New JALS

[minervaalistor.livejournal.com]

Title: Just Another Love Story
Summary: Harry helps Draco with some issues...or does he?
Rating: NC-17
Where: skyehawke
livejournal
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“Mr. Malfoy,” a voice whispered. Draco turned on his side and slitted his eyes.
Through a crack in his bed hangings, he could see the glint of pale eyes behind half moon glasses.

He sat up on his elbows, eyes wide. It was Dumbledore. And if Dumbledore was back at Hogwarts, then so was Harry.

“Ah, you’re awake. Wonderful. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but I desperately need to speak with you. Also, there is someone in the infirmary who is rather anxious to see you.”

Draco blinked a few times then rubbed his eyes. Professor Dumbledore was still there, chuckling softly, holding out his dressing gown to him. The old wizard seemed real enough, but Draco hardly dared to hope that he wasn’t dreaming.

“I assure you that I am real, Mr. Malfoy. Do come along, won’t you?” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“Yes sir,” Draco whispered, taking his gown.

Draco knew that Dumbledore was an accomplished Legilimens and attempted to shut his mind as he slid out of bed and into his dressing gown. It was a little creepy that Dumbledore seemed to know what Draco was thinking. While it was obvious that Dumbledore knew something about him and Harry, he was unsure how much the Headmaster knew. Almost everyone believed that the two boys were working on DA skills, though it was true that Harry had told Professor Snape about their relationship.

“Is Harry all right?” Draco asked once they had cleared the dungeons.

“Harry is suffering from extreme fatigue at the moment. I would not have allowed you to visit him until much later in the day, except that he is refusing to sleep until he’s seen you. He is being rather difficult with Poppy.”

Draco said nothing, though he couldn’t suppress a small grin. He kept his head down and kept walking.

“I think it is wonderful that the two of you have finally overcome your differences. The staff had a running bet for years that the enmity between the two of you was more about repressed sexuality than anything else. I stand to win quite a few Galleons, while I’m afraid your Head of House will lose quite a few. How is your mother taking the news? I know that some of the older families do not condone the type of relationship you share with Harry.”

Draco goggled at the Headmaster for a moment before answering. Clearly, he knew everything. What was really bothering Draco was the fact that he and Harry had been the topic of staff betting. Draco was unsettled and a bit embarrassed at the thought.

“She doesn’t know yet,” he replied.

“Oh, of course. Perhaps it is better if I wait to claim my winnings then.”

“Um, yes, sir, that would be best. I am going to tell her. During hols. I already wrote her a letter, but it didn’t make it. I sent it the day we were put under lockdown by the Ministry. I think I should tell her in person anyway. She won’t take it well.”

“No, I suppose she won’t. But considering the Malfoy and Black family histories, she shouldn’t be surprised by a little rebellious behavior.”

Draco smirked. “I never really looked at it like that.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly at the Slytherin. “I suppose you might say that you’re only doing your family duty by breaking with tradition. Either way, if I can be of any assistance, please let me know.”

Draco felt oddly comforted by the Headmaster’s offer, though he could never imagine in a million years taking him up on it. He also doubted very seriously that his mother would take his news as just a little Malfoy-breaking-with-tradition. If there was one thing the current Malfoys did not approve of, despite their hell raising of their ancestors, it was breaking with tradition.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do. On a more serious note, Mr. Malfoy, I’m afraid I have some rather unsettling news about your father.”

“Yes?” Draco’s heart leapt to his throat.

“When the captured Death Eaters were taken to the Ministry, it was arranged that they be sent to trial at once in an attempt to keep public outrage to a minimum. There are going to be some rather high feelings once their plan to attack Hogwarts is revealed. Their cases will be heard en masse before the Wizengamot in a special court. The trials will start as soon as all of the prisoners are washed and fed. Your father has insisted on being tried with them.”

Draco stopped in his tracks.

“What? He’s been appealing his case for two years now!”

“Yes, I know. Everyone finds it quite strange. Lucius’ behavior is becoming more and more erratic as time goes on. No one is sure why. What we do know for sure is that your father is still getting highly classified information, despite his being imprisoned.”

“Harry thinks someone at Azkaban is telling him things,” Draco said, voice strained and low. He had not wanted to believe that his father was still actively involved in Death Eater activity.

“That is the theory. But I wonder if Voldemort himself hasn’t developed the means to communicate with Lucius in some more nefarious way? Your father knew specific details about the battle that was happening long before they were published anywhere. He also told Ministry officials that he had sent you a warning about the battle, via your mother, several days before the attack. Is this true?”

“Not really. She said he kept going on about how I should always make sure my hair was visible since it was an immediately identifying feature. He didn’t say anything to her about an actual attack.” Draco paused for a moment. “Harry said that they are after me specifically. That they had a list with my name on it. Is that true?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “You do appear to be a target for the Death Eaters, though I’m not sure exactly why they are targeting you.”

“Harry thinks they want to kill me. But wouldn’t that mean that my father was trying to kill me, if he knew about the attack and wanted me to be identifiable?”

Dumbledore placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I’m not sure, Mr. Malfoy. Your father is only revealing information to us as he sees fit, in bits and pieces that I am sure are designed to confuse us. Considering the relationship between him and your mother since she has renounced the Dark Lord, there are several possible motivations why you might be targeted. The Death Eaters could be planning to kidnap you and bring you back into the fold, or kill you as punishment for your mother’s desertion. There is no accounting for what they might do.”

“What a lovely thought,” Draco drawled sarcastically. He unconsciously ran his hand over his left forearm, trying hard to put the news of his father out of his mind. He wanted to concentrate on Harry for the moment.

Dumbledore laughed heartily.

“You are a good match for Harry. Ah, here we are,” Dumbledore said, indicating the door to the infirmary. “Let’s see how he’s doing, shall we?”


**

Harry was sitting up in bed, resolutely refusing to take the Sleeping Potion that Madame Pomfrey was brandishing at him when Dumbledore and Draco arrived. Draco didn’t know what to expect upon seeing Harry again, but to his immense relief, the Gryffindor looked as he always did, albeit a little tired and thin. His eyes were blazing angrily at the nurse and his jaw was set in its usual stubborn line. He was protesting so vehemently that he did not even notice when Dumbledore and Draco entered the room.

“Oi, Potter, the next time you go on early holiday, you could at least let me know,” Draco said as he strode into the room.

Harry stopped arguing with Madame Pomfrey at once. He smiled shyly at Draco.

“Hi. I tried—AAAAHHHH” Harry started. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak to Draco, Madame Pomfrey forced the potion down.

“That’ll do it then. Good night, boy. You need your rest!” she snapped when Harry glowered at her.

Harry still sputtering and spitting, patted the bed next to him for Draco to sit down. Despite Harry’s reaction to the potion and Draco’s heavy thoughts, they locked eyes and smiled at one another. Draco reached out and pushed Harry’s fringe back. His scar shone in a ruddy, thick line.

“Why don’t we leave them alone for a bit, Poppy?” Dumbledore said with a laugh as he watched Harry wipe his mouth.

“But Headmaster!”

“They’ll be fine, dear. Mr. Malfoy, I don’t intend to resume classes until tomorrow, so you have plenty of time to visit Mr. Potter. At least until he falls asleep. Harry, get some rest. I’ll speak with you later. Good day. ”

“Yes, Headmaster,” both boys said. They watched as Dumbledore dragged a protesting Head Nurse from her infirmary.

“Alone at last,” Harry said.

Draco, who was overcome with relief, pulled Harry into a bear hug. Harry hissed and pulled away.

“You’ve got to be careful. I’ve got a cut,” he said, indicating his left ribcage.

Draco backed off. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

Harry pulled up his t-shirt, displaying a row of bandages that began at his armpit and disappeared into his pyjama bottoms. It was bled through in some spots. Draco gasped.

“Slashing Spell. Got me pretty good, but Pomfrey’s got it on the mend. You can still hug me, just don’t crush me.”

Draco leaned over and kissed Harry’s temple instead. Harry pulled him into a hug.

“I said you could hug me. I want you to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “In fact, you could probably kiss me, too.”

They kissed deeply, then sat in silence for a moment with their heads leaned together, overwhelmed to be back together. Draco finally spoke, acknowledging the tension in the air.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Harry leaned back against the headboard and sighed. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Can you just get under here with me?” he asked, lifting the blankets.

Draco crawled in next to him. Harry snuggled down and settled into the crook of his arm.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” Draco said after Harry settled. He was taken slightly aback by Harry’s display of vulnerability.

“Draco, really, it’s too soon. I can’t talk about it. If I did, I’d just get angry, or fall apart. What’s been going on here?”

“We’ve been cut off from the world since you’ve been gone. The Ministry was blocking all communication from the school and no one was allowed to come or go. We only just starting getting post and news yesterday, after Professor Snape came back. I suppose you knew he was a spy?”

Harry yawned hugely. “Yeah, course I did. Sorry I couldn’t tell you. Did the git give you my message?”

“Yes, he did. You’re the git. I wrote my mum, about the wedding, but my owl was killed. She never got the letter.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Harry said. His voice was getting heavy and slow.

“Yes, me too. I’ve had him since I was small. I think I would have been a lot more upset had I not been so worried about you. I’ll show you where I buried him, if you want.” Draco felt his throat thickening at the thought of his dead owl. He quickly pushed on.

“Anyway, I am going to tell her Harry, but during break. In person. I think it’s best.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I was being an arse.”

Draco was stunned into silence. But in true Malfoy style, he recovered quickly.

“So, how does one go about becoming a spy?”

Harry’s head shot up.

“Don’t be daft, Malfoy. They’re after Snape’s head, they are. I don’t even want to think what they might do to you if they ever found out you were spying.”

“Well that is the point of a spy. That they not find out.”

“Yeah, well, they found out about Snape, didn’t they?” Harry settled back down. “Please, can we not talk about this right now? I’m fucking exhausted.”

Draco kissed Harry’s forehead and pulled him close, a wave of uncomfortable protectiveness washing over him. He had expected to feel relieved, not this strange sense of uneasiness when Harry returned.

“Sorry, sorry. Keep your pants on. I’m exhausted too.”

“I’d say take my pants off, but I think this potion is starting to work,” Harry muttered.

“You bloody perv,” Draco said affectionately.

“Stay,” Harry said, letting his head grow heavy against Draco’s chest.

“I will.”

Draco laced his fingers with Harry’s and let him fall asleep against him. He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the twitching of his nose and the fluttering of his eyelids. The heaviness that had become habit in the last week slowly evaporated as he watched Harry sleep. Sunlight filtered in through the tall windows of the infirmary, showing just how pale and drawn Harry really was. The eerie feeling to protect, to keep safe coursed through Draco’s veins. He and Harry had been dating for just over two months now, but as Draco fell asleep, he couldn’t help but think that he had actually loved Harry for much, much longer. It was not a thought that was particularly comforting to Draco, as it left him wondering how much else he had been lying to himself about over the years.

**

“Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Potter?” Madame Pomfrey said, voice a wavering with uncertainty.

Draco, always a light sleeper, peeked open his eyes. Nearly the entire right half of his torso was asleep, squashed under Harry’s leaden body. There was a large wet spot on the front of his shirt where Harry had drooled on him as he slept and he was covered in sweat caused by the sun that was now beaming through the windows. He and Harry’s fingers were still laced together. He couldn’t have been happier.

“Sorry?” he muttered. He was still not awake enough to realize what was happening.

“This is an unfortunate sight.”

Draco opened his eyes fully at that voice. It was his Head of House, the one and only Severus Snape, standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed so that they nearly met in the middle.

“Sir?” Draco mumbled, hoping against hope that this was a nightmare as he tried to squirm out from under Harry.

Harry chose at that moment to jerk awake, eyes squinted and owlish.

“Where are we?” he mumbled.

“You’ve got spit on your face, you sod,” Draco said. He lifted the corner of his already soaked shirt and wiped Harry’s cheek with a scowl. “You drooled all over me, Potter.”

“You normally don’t mind,” Harry cheeked. He lay his head back down on Draco’s chest.

“Dear God. Shut it. Mr. Malfoy, you are needed in the dungeons to perform some Prefect duties. You do remember that you are the Slytherin Prefect and not some love struck Hufflepuff, yes? Good, because you and Ms. Parkinson have an entire house to inform and prepare for re-entry into classes. Do get yourself up.”

“And I need to attend to Mr. Potter’s injuries,” Madame Pomfrey squeaked.

Harry blinked slowly, studying Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey through unfocused eyes as Draco rose.

“Duty calls,” Draco said, leaning over and kissing Harry full on the lips.

“Honestly,” Professor Snape mumbled.

“Professor!” Madame Pomfrey chided. “I think it’s lovely you boys have come together at last. I suppose this one” she jerked a thumb at Professor Snape, “ is just angry because he’s going to lose some money. No come on, you. Don’t pout! He can come back later, Harry.”

“What’s that about?” Harry asked, referring to the money comment.

“I’ll tell you when I come back. Right after I’m done with duties, alright?”

“Think the returning war hero might get a blowjob then?” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear.

Draco smirked. “I didn’t think you’d want me to get that up close and personal with the Headmaster, but if you insist…”

“Cheeky,” Harry said. He pulled Draco down for another kiss.

“Honestly,” Professor Snape said again, stamping his foot on the ground for good measure.

“Bye. I’ll see you later,” Draco said, smiling broadly.

“You’d better.”

Draco followed Professor Snape as he swooped out of the infirmary. They passed Hermione and Ron as they were leaving.

“Hello, Mal-Draco,” Hermione offered.

Ron said nothing.

“Hello, Grang- Ermione. Hermione,” Draco returned.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Go see for yourself. We have business to attend to,” Snape snapped. Draco shrugged and followed once again.

The two men walked in silence to the doors of the Slytherin common room.

“This is where I leave you, Mr. Malfoy. Do try to do a thorough job with your housemates. Some of the first years are rather terrified.”

“I will, sir.”

“Be sure that you do. Don’t let your desire to rush back to the hospital wing to see Potter interfere.”

“I won’t, sir.”

Professor Snape looked Draco up and down.

“Well, alright then. Good day.”

Draco entered the dungeons with a smirk. Professor Snape must be losing a lot of Galleons, judging by how disgruntled he was.

**

Madame Pomfrey was carefully dabbing medicine on Harry’s wound when Ron and Hermione came in. Hermione hissed at once.

“Someone got you with a Slashing Spell,” she said, moving forward for a better look.

“Yeah. Crabbe, I think. Madame Pomfrey says I’m likely to have another scar.”

“I’m afraid so, dear,” the nurse agreed.

“Mine left a scar. It tickles when it rains or when I hear Beethoven,” Hermione supplied. She and Ron sat next to Harry’s bed and waited patiently until the nurse left.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“About half three. How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you? Ron?”

Ron shifted in his seat. “’M fine. You’re not seriously hurt, are you?”

“No. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Ron shifted again. “We saw Malfoy when we came in.”

“Yeah? He slept here with me for a while,” Harry said, the dig clear in his voice.

“He was really upset while you were away,” Hermione said, trying to make some peace between the two supposed friends. Ron was staring at Harry with open disgust.

“How do you know?” Harry asked.

“I went down to the dungeons to see him. I could tell from your map that he was still awake. I don’t think he slept much while you were gone. He was very….distant.”

“He always acts that way when something is bothering him. Look at his parents. Do they strike you as the type to encourage a free display of emotions?” Harry’s eyes were still on Ron.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Most Death Eaters aren’t really the emotional type,” Ron added, staring pointedly back at Harry. “I’m going to guess that the one that sent Bill to the hospital wasn’t that torn up about it.”

“Draco’s not a Death Eater,” Harry answered, a warning in his voice.

“Not yet,” Ron murmured.

“Ronald! You said you wouldn’t! He’s not well, you know, he’s only just come back from –“

“No, Hermione, let him finish. I’m fine,” Harry interrupted.

Ron just sat, face twisted, and stared back at Harry. Then it all came out in a flood.

“You know, Harry, it’s bad enough that you’ve decided you like boys—“

“I didn’t decideanything!”

“But Malfoy! You can’t honestly believe that just because he’s been coming to DA that he and his mother have really changed. His father knew about that battle—“

“Who told you that? Hermione, did you tell him that?”

“ – and you want to try and tell me that Malfoy didn’t! You know his father tells him everything! I bet he’s laughing his arse off that my brother is hurt!”

“Draco’s father can’t even have visitors, much less send Draco letters full of Death Eater information, you stupid wanker!”

“Like Malfoy can’t find some other way to communicate with is evil spawn!”

“Draco is not evil! He doesn’t even know who your bloody brother is!”

“Why would he? What? A Malfoy condescend to actually find out about the people they hurt?”

“Stop it!” Hermione cried. “Stop it now! Both of you!”

The two boys fell silent, both breathing hard and glaring at one another.

“Look, Harry, a lot of people are depending on you to make things right. Maybe you shouldn’t trust your little boyfriend. That’s all I’m saying. It’s not like you haven’t been known to make bad decisions before.”

Harry took several deep breaths before answering through gritted teeth. Hermione was staring at Ron in total shock.

“I would trust Draco with my life, which is more than I can say for you at this point. Any other bad decisions that I’ve made in the past are mine alone, and I have to live with them every day. Not you, so you can keep your cheap comments to yourself.”

Harry took a deep breath.

“As for people looking up to me, I imagine you’re right. Some people will be put off by my liking boys, especially Draco, but that’s their problem. And your problem. You don’t give a rat’s arse about me, or Bill, or anything except that I’m not attracted to girls. And frankly, I’m sick of your homophobic bullshit. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep. Herimone, come back later if you want, but leave him in the Tower.”

Ron’s face was a dangerous, deep red. He stood so abruptly that his chair fell over onto the floor with a loud crack.

“Fine, Harry. But trust me, Malfoy will end up fucking you in the arse in more than one way when this is all said and done!”

“Ronald!” Hermione shrieked.

“Get out, Weasley!” Harry roared, reaching for his wand.

“Remember that, Potter! And don’t come crying to me when he does it either, you bloody pouf!” Ron yelled as he retreated.

Hermione watched him leave before rushing to Harry’s side.

“Harry, I’m so sorry! I had no idea he’d behave like that! He was worried sick about you, he was!”

“Hermione, I don’t really have the stomach for listening to what a saint Ron was while I was away.”

“I never said that! I just said he was worried, and he was. So was I. Everyone was.”

“Yeah, well, according to Ron, that’ll all change once they learn that I like dick.” Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “Hermione, please. I’m tired. I just need to be left alone for a while.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

Harry covered his face with his hands.

“Yes, please do. I’m sorry, Hermione, I am. Thanks for going to Draco for me, okay?”

“Sure. Get some rest.”

Harry sighed at the strained quality of Hermione’s voice.

“I will. See you later?”

“Sure. Bye.”

After Hermione left, Harry curled his hands into fists. He knew he should have been kinder to her, but he was so angry he could hardly breath. He ground his teeth together and pounded on the mattress before finally releasing a roar of “FUCK!” that brought Madame Pomfrey on the run.


**

Draco’s Prefect duties took much longer than anticipated, which always happens when one is trying desperately to be somewhere else. Many of the first years were terrified and needed serious Slytherin reorientation about how to behave in a crisis (stiff upper lip and no sniveling). The Black Slytherins decided to take Draco’s moment in the limelight as a time to question why he was the first one taken to see Harry upon his return (how that bit of news had already made the rounds Draco was unsure, but determined to find out). By the time everything was under control, it was time for dinner. Afterwards, Pansy required a full update on his visit with Harry, so by the time he made it back to the infirmary, it was nearly eight o’clock.

Harry was not there. His bed was empty and neatly made, though his things were still on the nightstand. Draco growled in frustration and went to look for Madame Pomfrey.
He found her in her office, radio tuned to the WWN.

“Madame Pomfrey?” he said into the door.

The nurse jumped in her seat. She paled visibly when she saw Draco.

“Oh! Mr. Malfoy. I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Why? You should have known I’d be back to see Harry.”

She quickly turned the volume on the radio down.

“He’s in a meeting with Professors McGonagall and Snape. There has been quite a bit of news this evening.”

“What sort of news?” Draco asked, moving into the nurse’s office a few steps.

She looked utterly terrified.

“I’m sure that Professor Snape will find you when he knows something definite. If you’d like to wait for Harry, you can do so by his bed. I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

Draco took several more steps forward.

“If you know something I should know, I think you should tell me.” Draco loomed over the nurse, staring down at her with hard eyes.

Madame Pomfrey’s lips started to tremble. She looked back at her radio.

“I don’t know anything. You’ll have to speak to either Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall. They should have heard something from the Wizengamot by now.”

What little color Draco had drained totally from his face. It finally dawned on him. Pomfrey had been listening to news about the trials.

“Where are they?”

“In the Headmaster’s office.”

Draco turned and ran.

**

“Open the fucking door!” Draco shrieked, pounding against the wall with his fists. He had no idea what the password to the Headmaster’s office was.

To his surprise, the door slid open. To his further surprise, Professor Snape was standing in the doorway, Harry behind him.

“What’s going on?” he shouted.

Harry moved forward at once and kissed Draco’s face several times.

“Mr. Potter, perhaps you should return to the infirmary,” Snape said. Draco thought his voice sounded very, very strange.

“Draco, just remember, I love you, alright? I love you and I’ll do whatever I can for you. Come and see me after if you’d like.”

Draco looked to Harry, eyes wide with fear.

“What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry gave his hands a quick squeeze. “Just go with Professor Snape. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Draco watched, feeling that the pounding footsteps of doom were closing in on him, as Harry walked away. He turned to Professor Snape.

“Come Draco,” the Potions master said. He held out his arm to Draco, motioning him onto the spiral staircase. Draco stepped forward.

**

Professor Snape settled across from Draco, who was sitting stock straight and still in a chair in the conference room of Dumbledore’s office. Professor McGonagall quietly excused herself.

“Would you like some tea, Draco?”

“I’d like to know what’s going on.”

Professor Snape sat back in his chair.

“Alright then. We’ve been receiving regular updates from Headmaster Dumbledore all evening concerning the trials at the Ministry. As you know, they are trying all of the Death Eaters that were captured in the recent battle in Hogsmeade.”

“Yes.”

“Your father was the first to be tried tonight since he was not involved in the fight. They heard his case while the others were being attended to.”

Draco gritted his teeth together but said nothing.

“They are making rather short work of things. So far all of the cases have been open and shut as either the Death Eaters confessed or there was such damning evidence against them that there was nothing more to say about the matter.”

Draco continued to stare at Professor Snape in stony silence.

“Your father confessed to being an active Death Eater and supporter of Lord Voldemort. He confessed to having knowledge of the battle before it happened. He confessed to all of the crimes he was accused of two years ago. The Wizengamot heard his confession and sentenced him to life in Azkaban.”

Draco’s head started to spin.

“You’re lying,” he spat.

Professor Snape laid his hand on Draco’s knee.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not. What can I do for you, Draco?”

Draco’s breath started coming in short, hard bursts.

“This can’t be happening. We’re bloody Malfoys! He can’t spend his life in prison, he’ll go mad. He just, he can’t!”

Professor Snape patted his knee.

“It’s not as bad as it used to be now that the Dementors are gone. He’ll have some privileges—“

“Privileges?” Draco shouted. “Are you out of your bloody mind? He is Lucius Malfoy! There’s no way he can be expected to—“

Draco was cut off by a soft rap on the door. Professor McGonagall poked her head in. The old witch looked pale and drawn.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m sorry to say that we’ve just received more bad news. Will you please come with me?”

Draco stared at her gape mouthed. He felt as if he were stuck in the middle of a very realistic, horrific nightmare from which he could not wake.

He stood slowly and followed Professor McGonagall to the inner sanctum of Dumbledore’s office. On any other occasion, he would have been fascinated by the whizzing and whirring objects on the Headmaster’s desk, but now, he didn’t even notice them.

His mother was sitting on the divan in front of the Headmaster’s desk. Her eyes, much like Draco’s, were wide and wild.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Draco my love,” she said quietly. Behind them, Professor McGonagall closed the door.

Draco raced to his mother’s side. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her and took her hands.

“Mother, what is happening? This can’t be real, they can’t put him in prison forever. Why did he do this? Doesn’t he know what this is going to do to him, to us? To our name?”

Narcissa pulled Draco’s hands to her lips and kissed them. Despite a valiant effort, tears started to course down her cheeks.

“Oh, Draco. I don’t know what to do. I feel guilty. I feel I may have pushed him in this direction by renouncing the Dark Lord. But what could I do? I couldn’t give you to them, I just couldn’t. They turned your father into a servant, a once brilliant and proud man into nothing more than a common slave. He won’t win, Draco, I know that. And knowing that, how could I give you to them?”

Draco reached out and wiped away his mother’s tears. Her crying alarmed him more than anything, but it gave him strength as well. His father was indisposed. He was head of the Malfoy family now.

“Mother, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to get a solicitor. We’ll find a way. We’ll say that he’s under some sort of horrible curse, that they’ve put him under Imperio. We’ll fix it, I promise. Don’t cry, please Mum, stop.”

Draco’s words had only made Narcissa cry harder. Her face was buried in her hands, Draco’s one hand pressed to her cheek. At long last, she looked up and met her son’s eyes.

“Draco, my love, my little dragon, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay. Lucius is dead. He killed himself when they took him back to his cell after the trial.”

Draco fell backward onto his heels. He blinked stupidly at his mother as she stroked his face and cried.

“Is this real?” he whispered.

Narcissa pulled him to her.

At that moment, Dumbledore burst into the room.

“Narcissa, Draco, you have my deepest sympathies. I came as quickly as I could,” he said, sweeping towards them.

Narcissa offered her hand to the Headmaster. He kissed the back of it.

“Thank you,” she said, her tears quickly drying up in the presence of an outsider. “Draco, get up. Sit by me,” she directed, patting the seat next to her.

Dumbledore sat down next to them. He leaned forward and took one of Narcissa’s hands.

“I want you to know that I personally went to Lucius’ cell to look for any signs of foul play. To say that the atmosphere at the Ministry is hostile at this time would be a gross understatement. I performed every sort of Revealing Charm I could think of and no one seems to have been in Lucius’ cell except for him after he returned. They’ve taken the body to St. Mungo’s for an autopsy, but all of the indicators point to poisoning.”

“Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. With your permission, I would like to take Draco home with me. We have a lot to do in the next few days with the arrangements for his father’s burial. I am sure he wants to be involved. Don’t you, dear?”

Draco nodded his head. He was staring straight ahead at nothing. He felt like he was underwater. As most teenagers do, Draco had stopped thinking of his father as anything but the annoying person who ordered him about, threatened him with cutting off his allowance, and chastised him when he didn’t do his best in school. But now all Draco could think of was the first time he ever rode a broom, and how his father had held the tail of it and steadied him with a charm, grinning broadly and encouraging him the while. About how Lucius’ large hand had closed over his own small one the first time he had taught Draco to cast a spell. How proudly Lucius had smiled at him when he had received his letter from Hogwarts, as if there had been any doubt that Draco would be accepted. How uncomfortable his father had been the night he had taken Draco into his study, given him a scotch, two ice cubes, and tried to tell him about sex without dying of embarrassment. Images like these flowed through his head at the speed of light.

Draco had not heard anything that either his mother or Headmaster Dumbledore had said. He only snapped out of his trance when his mother stood up at his side.

“Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I’ll leave the two of you alone then,” she was saying.

“Mother?” Draco said, standing as well. He was suddenly terrified that she was going to leave him.

“I’m just going into the waiting area, dear. Let the Headmaster talk to you for a moment.”

Draco obediently sat back down. When Narcissa left the room, Dumbledore reached into his pocket. He held out a letter to Draco. On the front, in his father’s perfect calligraphy, was Draco’s name.

“I found this in your father’s cell. I was able to take it without anyone knowing. I think it may contain information that your mother is unaware of at present.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked. He felt nauseated. He felt like the Headmaster was standing on the other side of a large chasm. Without even knowing he was doing it, his finger was tracing his name, written by his father.

“One of the guards asked me if you were homosexual.”

There was a loud roaring in Draco’s ears and the room seemed very bright. He wanted to say something, anything, to Headmaster Dumbledore, but found that he couldn’t. There was a loud crash, then everything went black.


**
“Draco! Draco!”

It was Professor Snape, yelling at him from far, far away. A horrible, sharp smell drifted up his nose and he gagged. He shook his head, trying to get away from that odor, but it was persistent. He sat up, lurched forward, and dry heaved.

“You startled me, young man,” Snape said.

His mother took Professor Snape’s place in his line of vision.

“Darling, are you alright? Sweetie, please say something!”

Draco blinked at his mother. He sat up and was surprised to see Professor Snape on his knees, robes fanned around him like tail feathers. He held a small vial of smelling salts in his hand. Headmaster Dumbledore was perched on the edge of his desk.

“What happened?” Draco asked, voice trembling.

“You fainted. I suspect you need to see Madame Pomfrey. You’ve been under tremendous stress these past several days” Headmaster Dumbledore said.

Draco thought of Harry at once. He stood, stumbled slightly, then caught himself on the divan he had been sitting on before he fainted. He couldn’t see Harry. Not now.

“No. No, thank you, I’m fine. I would just like to go back to my room and get my things. My mother and I need to get home.”

The adults eyed him warily.

“Draco, are you sure? You don’t look well,” Headmaster Dumbledore asked.

Draco smoothed his robes, he smoothed his long hair. He attempted a small smile.

“No, really, I’m fine. I’m just tired and a bit shocked. Really, I’m fine. I just need to get my things.”

Narcissa titled his chin up and looked into his eyes.

“Are you sure? I can wait until you’re checked by the school nurse.”

Thinking of Harry again, Draco fought not to panic. He smiled at his mother.

“No, Mother, really. I’m fine. I feel much better now. I just need to get my things and get some rest. At home.”

Narcissa turned to the others. “Alright then. If it’s alright with you, Headmaster, that is.”

“Yes, yes, of course. If there is anything I can do for you, Narcissa, do not hesitate to ask. I will have Professor Snape forward all of Draco’s lessons to him. Draco, let me walk you to the corridor.”

Draco hugged his mother and left with the Headmaster.

“I tucked that letter into your inside pocket, Mr. Malfoy. I told the guard at Azkaban in unequivocal terms that your sexuality was not in question. No one knows about you and Harry as far as I am aware. You are safe to handle the situation as you see fit.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.”

“Are you going to see Harry before you leave?”

Draco looked at his shoes as the spiral staircase descended.

“I don’t think so. There’s no time and I don’t know how I would explain it to my mother.”

Dumbledore patted his back. “Not to worry. I will tell Harry what has happened. I’m sure he will understand.”

They reached the door.

“I truly meant what I said, Draco. If there is anything that I can do for you or your mother in the coming days, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. For everything.”

“I’ll see you back here in a moment, Draco. Just leave your trunks once you’ve packed them. I’ll have a house elf deliver them tomorrow.”

Draco nodded at the Headmaster and headed towards the dungeons.






Enjoy!