Part one is completed. We now enter...
PART TWO
of
No Church in the Wild
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Prisoner
SIX YEARS LATER
Fog.
A heavy mist filled Harry's brain and he couldn't think.
A shadowed face appeared, not completely formed, hovering above. Made of clouds? he wondered with mild confusion. They spoke soft words
stay calm
everything will be okay
it's time to wake up.
A vague pain in his head. The clouds scattered and became the mist, and he slept.
His dreams were the sky, unending, empty. A wide expanse of nothingness.
Fog.
Thunderstorms gathered again. And, eventually, that unknown shape spoke again. Their queries like heavy rain on a window, insistent. Pitter-patter against his blank thoughts. Teasing sometimes, concerned at others. Never angry. Are you going to wake up? It's time to wake up okay?
I know you hear me…
Hey, wake up now!
The dark sky opened again, rain pounding down on his head. You ready?
Yeah, he sighed, finally answering.
The voice gave a cheerful Yay!
The mist broke apart, a storm that had overstayed its welcome, clearing to show a beautiful night sky. Stars lit across his consciousness, moonlight poured down into his soul, his being, and not long after…
Harry opened his eyes.
Draco yawned, scratching idly at the stubble on his cheek. He passed through one of the halls that a Norwegian Ridgeback had destroyed, leaving it completely open to the elements, his house slippers kicking up leaves and dirt as he shuffled by with his dumb, limpy gait. His slippered foot smearing bird shit he'd stepped in accidentally, across the tiles. A cold wind suddenly blew through and he hunched his shoulders, wrapping the robe tighter around his middle.
"Why don't you get any of this fixed?" the woman next to him questioned, zipping up her leather jacket.
Draco didn't even look in her direction, asking flatly, "You plan to give me the Galleons needed for that little project?"
She suddenly dug into her purse, and for a wild second Draco really thought the crazy bitch was going to give him money, but a moment later her hand reappeared with only a small comb. She ran it through her hair as they walked, unmindful of the loose strands falling in his family's once magnificent hallways as she groomed. "But I read in the papers that you still have all your fortune. They did like an… expose article on ya'."
She had pronounced exposé wrong. He was still drunk enough that he found it cute instead of profoundly idiotic. "The Ministry deems what I'm allowed to spend that fortune on," Draco answered, nonetheless.
"Ooh…" She shoved the comb back in her purse. Her hand reappeared holding lipstick. As she popped off the lid to apply it, her eyebrows suddenly drew together in confusion, and she paused, asking, "But… don't they think that you should be able to fix your house?"
They had reached the grand foyer and Draco began the process of unlocking the numerous security precautions, both muggle-type locks and counter-curses, before he answered her. He was still drunk, otherwise he never would've tolerated her prying. "Funnily enough, if people believe you murdered Harry Potter, they don't care if your manor is in shambles."
Morning sunlight streamed in as he pulled the heavy doors open, lighting the faded, marble floors and dust particles. Draco leaned against the frame, in the shadow of the door, looking back. He waved impatiently for her to get moving.
She stared at him now though, eyes suddenly piercing as she ran the lipstick over her pouting lips. Expertly, without a mirror. She had clearly waited for his attention to be on her before doing so, and he had to admit, it was a little impressive. "Did you? I mean…" She lowered her voice suddenly, sounding almost lustful. "Did you… kill him?"
Draco was still drunk, so he didn't mind her asking that question. "Nope. Now I already paid you, so get the fuck out."
He slammed the door behind her, redoing all the locks. Casting all the spells. He stood alone, listening to the silence… and the bird calls that he shouldn't be able to hear so clearly - wouldn't be able to hear if all the walls on his manor were properly constructed, anyway.
Draco suddenly felt he wasn't drunk enough. He limped off to find more fire whiskey.
What was going on?
Harry's heart pounded madly. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath.
Why… why was he seeing this? Why did Malfoy look older all of a sudden? What was happening? Harry glanced down at his hands, again, for the thousandth time already, finding them perfectly normal.
So why couldn't Malfoy see him? Had some healing spell gone horribly wrong after Bellatrix stabbed him? But that still didn't explain why Malfoy looked older…
Ghost? So maybe he was a ghost? If he was a ghost why couldn't Malfoy see him? Wizards were supposed to be able to see ghosts. He felt his heart might break through his rib cage with how hard it was pounding. He glanced back up towards Malfoy, who appeared to be busy taking apart a suit of armor. He watched as Draco took the armor's left boot, turning it upside down and dumping out its contents into his waiting hand. A bottle of fire whiskey.
"Fuck!" Malfoy growled angrily. He shook the nearly empty bottle in frustration.
But Harry didn't really care about anything Malfoy was doing. Harry was becoming frantic. He ran over to Malfoy, trying to put a hand on his arm to get his attention. He watched in horror as his hand went right through.
Had he been transported into a Pensieve? That's kind of what he felt like. But. But... It still didn't explain why Draco was older. It kept coming back to that sticking point. How?
Malfoy had unstopped the bottle, pouring what was left straight down his throat.
Harry turned his back on the whole pathetic scene, running full tilt at the front door. He wanted out of here. Out of this Pensieve, out of whatever was happening. He slipped right through the walls, stumbling down the stairs in his panic, catching himself at the bottom before bolting down the drive.
He was about halfway through the yard before he felt a sudden coldness rush through him. Immediately after that, he blinked back to existence directly in front of Malfoy, who was currently making his way up the staircase, leaning heavily on the banister to compensate for his limp.
He passed directly through Harry's figure.
"What?" Harry breathed, spinning, staring at Draco's back as he continued, undaunted. "What is going on?!
No answers came to him. Harry tried to run away again and again, and he kept appearing next to Malfoy, who continued making his way around the Manor. Kitchen. Breakfast. Toast and spiked coffee. Malfoy took the breakfast to a sitting room. He chewed slowly. He pulled out a fresh bottle of fire whiskey from a hidden nook behind a still portrait. He did not notice Harry's panicked figure reappearing in front of him again and again.
Defeated, Harry finally collapsed in an empty chair at the opposite end of the room from Malfoy, who'd sat himself behind a dusty mahogany desk that could use a good wiping down.
Harry let his head fall in his hands, completely out of ideas. Malfoy couldn't see him, couldn't feel him, and Harry couldn't get away from him. Why was this happening? If Bellatrix had successfully murdered him, why wasn't he in heaven or whatever? Why on earth was Harry seemingly stuck with Draco Malfoy of all people?
He badly wished Ron and Hermione were here to help him.
A sudden, incessant pecking sound on the window next to him eventually pulled Harry from his thoughts.
Malfoy stood, shuffling across the room in his dirty slippers to pull the window open to reveal a very large barn owl. The owl proudly presented her foot, a Daily Prophet attached. Malfoy fed her what was left of his toast, going to untie the bundle. The owl hooted in satisfaction, chomping away, waiting patiently for the grumbling Malfoy, who was having trouble getting the rope undone.
As the owl waited, her giant, unblinking eyes settled on Harry. She made a curious trill sound.
Harry sat up, heart skipping a beat. "Can- Can you see me?"
The owl's head twisted obscenely to the side as owls do, pupils still locked on Harry's. She hooted again.
Malfoy finally got the paper. "There you go," he mumbled to the owl, who finally pulled her eyes away from Harry. She nibbled gently on Malfoy's hand before pushing back from the window sill, her silent expansive wings taking flight.
Harry watched the bird disappear into the blue sky, joining other owls on their daily routes. He felt his heart flying along with them. The recognition of his existence had been badly needed and a calmness settled in his chest. He would get through this. Like he always did.
Panicking certainly wasn't helping anyway.
It was time to start thinking about this like a puzzle. Obviously, he was missing something. He glanced over at Malfoy, who was slowly unrolling the paper on his desk. With a heavy sigh, Harry sidled up behind him, deciding to take part.
"Oh no. No. No, no, no." Malfoy suddenly moaned, the glass he'd been sipping from clanking hard to the desk surface as it slipped through his fingers. Brow furrowed, Harry leaned closer over his shoulder to get a better look at whatever could be causing such a reaction.
Bold, large text splayed directly above a full-page photo that read SHAMEFUL AND OBSCENE! HERO HARRY POTTER GRAVE-SITE DESECRATED, BODY MISSING!
Shocked, Harry's eyes scanned to the moving picture. It showed what could only be a cemetery, surrounded by grim faced Ministry agents apparently doing their best to hide the scene, using their own bodies and spread out arms and even some umbrellas. They weren't doing a great job though, you could easily see an unearthed and empty casket behind them. One of the wizards was making furious gestures at whoever had taken the photo.
Harry stared down at the photo for what felt like a long time, feeling a strange mixture of wonder and disbelief at the white marble tombstone bearing his name. A simple yet beautiful etching of a golden snitch directly over his name.
HARRY JAMES POTTER.
HERO.
He was really dead. He wasn't trapped in a Pensieve. He wasn't having a bizarre dream. He. Was. Dead.
As Harry struggled to come to grips with this news, Draco seemed to be having a fit himself. He'd dropped the paper, letting it scatter on the floor while he snatched up his half-finished fire whiskey bottle and shoved it deep into a bottom drawer of the desk. In his rush he'd knocked over his plate and glass, and he cursed, crouching down to get them. It was a struggle, his leg looked stiff and was clearly giving him trouble.
Harry didn't pay him too much attention though, he'd instead gone back to the paper, he wanted to read the article, but the way the pages had fallen, it was mostly obscured. Harry reached out to move them aside, knowing his hand would go through it, but trying anyway out of instinct. Still felt disheartened as he watched his fingers disappear through the papers just as he'd expected.
CRACK
Harry jerked up in surprise as a pair of wizards appeared in the room. No, a wizard and a witch, and oddly enough, they wore muggle business suits rather than customary robes, the woman in corduroy, the man in black. Both with sour expressions.
"Malfoy," the woman addressed him.
Malfoy glowered, leaning just slightly on the desk behind him for balance as he gave up on his efforts to collect the fallen dishware, standing straight. "You people are not supposed to Apparate directly into my home."
"Unless we have good reason to," the man in the black suit returned sharply, his eyes scanning the fallen and scattered pages of the Daily Prophet around Malfoy's desk, "… and I'd say we have a damn good reason to, wouldn't you?"
"Are you accusing me of something Blakely?" Malfoy returned immediately, venom in his tone.
"Maybe."
"Well then my solicitor should be present for this!"
The witch spoke up, voice calmer than the two men, "Nobody's accusing you of anything. Yet. Just want to ask a few questions." She reached into her vest, pulling out a small notepad and a quill. "Mind telling us your whereabouts yesterday?"
Malfoy swallowed nervously, eyeing the quill which had already started moving of its own accord when he hadn't even said anything yet. Harry knew that feeling well.
"Start from the moment you woke up Malfoy," the man, Blakely, added, going to the very chair Harry had abandoned and settling himself in. Legs crossed, he leaned back. "Don't leave anything out."
After a long pause looking between the two, Malfoy finally broke the silence. "I-I woke up and went to work. After work I stopped by Diagon Alley. Met up with an acquaintance, we both came back to my home, and that's it."
...Work? Malfoy? Harry thought in wonder.
"Who exactly was this acquaintance?" the woman asked. The quill continued to fly across the notepad at high speed despite Draco not saying much.
A light smattering of color appeared on Draco's cheeks. "Just… just a woman."
Blakely laughed harshly. "Another one of your two-bit whores, huh Malfoy?"
"We need her name, so we can verify your story."
Malfoy, teeth clenched, pushed off the desk, stumbling slightly, limping round to the back of it. Behind him, Harry watched the detectives?- the Aurors?- share a look. He couldn't quite decipher what the look meant though.
Malfoy pulled open the drawers, fishing around inside. He withdrew a small sliver of paper. "Here it is-" he held it up close to his face. "Uh, Candy-" he coughed slightly, setting the paper back on the table, sliding it towards the woman. "Candy Sweets."
The woman nodded, expression neutral. Blakely, though, let out another guffaw. "Wow, you couldn't remember that one?"
Malfoy slammed the draw shut. "Forgive me, I didn't know I was going to have two pervy Aurors coming over to quiz me on my nightly conquests!"
Blakely's expression darkened and he suddenly rose to his feet. "Y'know what- step back from the desk. I'm going to conduct a search for contraband."
Malfoy's face paled. "You can't do that without a Ministry Writ! I'm allowed to have representation present-!"
Out of habit Harry stepped back to allow room for Blakely to pass him.
Malfoy looked angrily towards the woman Auror, as Blakely started pulling all the drawers open one by one. "Clark, you know this is illegal!"
She shook her head. "That's only if we were to conduct a full search of your premises. Due to your probationary status we are well within our rights to conduct a search to a specific site if we have valid suspicion."
"Valid suspicion of what!" Malfoy sputtered, watching Blakely tear carelessly through his papers and letters.
Blakely finally reached the bottom drawer. "Knew it." With a satisfied smirk he pulled out Malfoy's bottle of whiskey, setting it on the desk top. "This."
"I didn't know that was there." Malfoy returned immediately. Too quick.
"Doesn't matter. You know full well you're not allowed to have this on your premises. And with you stumbling around and stinking of the stuff, we had valid suspicion that you were hiding some." Blakely reached into his suit jacket, pulling out his wand. "Turn around. We're taking you in."
Malfoy's formerly haughty expression crumpled. "Wait-wait, please, no I'll lose my job if I don't show up for work-"
"Not our problem-"
"Please, I need the money-"
"Turn around!"
"Hold on Blakely," Clark broke in, coolly. "Let's go ahead and give him a warning on this one."
Her partner, who had already put a hand on Draco's shoulder and was about to manhandle him face first into the wall, looked disappointed. "But Julie-"
She tucked her notepad back into her vest pocket followed by her quill. "We're giving you a break here, Draco. We have more important issues than minor probation violations to attend to today… as you know. Though I'd suggest you keep your nose very clean for the foreseeable future."
Blakely shoved Malfoy hard as he released him. Draco stumbled, catching himself on the desk. "Your lucky day I guess. And I'd suggest staying away from any Wizarding events or gatherings for the foreseeable future as well. Most people won't take kindly to seeing your face at the moment."
"Like I'm not aware," Malfoy growled back, rubbing at his shoulder.
"Where would we be most likely to find this… 'Candy Sweets'?"
"Knockturn Alley, usually at the White Wyvern pub," Malfoy answered evenly.
"Oh, and one more question-"
Malfoy interrupted, "No, I have not seen, heard from, or attempted to make any contact with Severus Snape." He recited this as if he'd said that very sentence many, many times in the past.
Clark watched him silently for a long moment. Finally she gave a nod. "Okay. We're going to take the long way out, do you mind escorting us?"
"Do I have a choice?" Draco grumbled. Probably only loud enough that Harry heard. He limped to the doorway, and down the hall to the staircase. The two Aurors followed at a slow pace and Harry hung back with them to listen in on their hushed conversation.
"Why didn't you want to take him in?" Blakely asked Clark, voice low.
"If he has any idea about what happened with Potter's body it's better to have him here, where we have all his communications monitored and can get to him anytime we want, anyway. And the fact that we just caught him with this," she held up the bottle of whiskey, shaking it, "actually makes me think he might have nothing to do with it. He would have been sure to get rid of it- he would have known we were coming."
"Could have done that to throw us off," Blakely countered.
"True. Can't discount that idea." She gazed forward, watching Malfoy hold tightly to the banister as he carefully stepped downward. "My gut says otherwise though."
Blakely followed her look. His mouth twisted into a frown. "You feeling bad for this guy or something, Clark?"
"Bad? No, not exactly."
"Good. Because I was starting to think you'd forgotten that this bastard more likely than not murdered Harry Potter!"
Harry could only shake his head in disbelief at this. How had his murder been pinned on Malfoy of all people? Was… was this why he was back? To tell people of Malfoy's innocence? Had Malfoy somehow managed to bring him back to do this? His mind was whirring with all the possibilities.
"If you want to be technical, he was never convicted of it," Clark said.
Blakely rolled his eyes. "Well how about this- he's the number one reason Voldemort is still alive today."
Harry was floored. He stumbled a few steps forward, loosing his footing in his shock. What? Voldemort was dead. Harry had killed him himself!
Clark's expression had darkened. "You're right on that one."
Harry could only wonder how they'd gotten things so wrong.
They had reached the foyer. Malfoy held the front doors open for the pair, waving an impatient hand towards the open door. The same way he'd done for "Candy" just an hour ago. "Thanks for stopping by," he said sarcastically as they passed.
"We'll see you very… very soon." Blakely returned, heading down the steps.
Clark stopped, turning back before Malfoy could shut the door completely.
"In all seriousness Malfoy, for your own safety, you really should stay away from any Wizarding events, or areas... pubs included. For a while, at least."
Malfoy's face was expressionless. "Noted."
He shut the door with finality.
this chapter is named after a song by Stumfol