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Forgive Those Who Trespass	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20650 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Forgive Those Who Trespass

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these characters. I am
writing this for fun and not profit.

Pairing: Future Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione.

Rating: R/M.

Warnings: DH SPOILERS (but ignores epilogue), violence,
gore, torture, profanity. Mostly, this is preslash.

Summary: HPDM preslash. Harry was convinced he had an
ordinary, if inconvenient, life. Then Ron and Hermione vanished into the
Department of Mysteries. And it seems the only person who might know where they
are is a mute Draco Malfoy. Featuring Pensieves, mutilation, torture,
orientation denial, and other fun things.

Author�s Notes: The title, of course, comes from the
Lord�s Prayer. This is another WiP, and promises to be fairly lengthy. It�s
also not really a nice story; the genre is more Horror than anything else.

Forgive Those Who Trespass

Chapter One�What Heroes Do

�� You
understand, don�t you, mate?� Ron�s eyes were anxious, and he was hovering. He
might not call it hovering, but Harry knew that was what it was. Already,
Ron had knocked several quills, one inkwell, and the latest �practice report�
off Harry�s desk as he fidgeted about.

�� I do,�
Harry said. He smiled, hoping that would reassure Ron. Ron only looked more
nervous. Harry finally snorted and shook his head. �It�s not as though it�s a
hard concept, Ron. You�re bored with Auror training. The Department of
Mysteries sounds more interesting and pays more. And Hermione�s going there.�
He winked at his friend.

�� Ron
flushed. �That had nothing to do with it.�

�� Harry
rolled his eyes. Ron had made many strides in his relationship with Hermione,
except what should have been the most obvious one: admitting it existed. �Of
course it didn�t,� he said. �Really, Ron, I�ll be all right. I�m staying
in Auror training because what Hermione described doesn�t sound interesting to
me. But we�ll still work together in the Ministry, and I�ll see you from time
to time. Why should this have any effect on our friendship?�

�� Well. Er.�
Ron scratched the back of his neck. �Unspeakables aren�t allowed to talk about
what they do��

�� That�s why
they call them Unspeakables, I know.� Harry had become tired of that joke the
first day in Auror training, during the introductory lectures, but he managed
to sound gently teasing instead of exasperated now. He raised an eyebrow at
Ron. �Do what you need to do. I�ll be right here whenever you deign to notice
me, a lowly Auror slobbering over the chance to talk to a mighty Unspeakable.�

�� I didn�t mean
it like that��

�� Harry
stepped around the desk and clasped Ron�s shoulders. He and Ron had avoided
touching as much as they might have lately; the revelation of Harry�s sexual
orientation had unsettled everyone in the Weasley family at first, and Ron
still sometimes looked doubtfully at Harry, as if he expected him to show an
uncontrollable desire to hump Ron�s leg. It was the only way to get the truth
through that thick skull in this case, though. �Ron. I�ll be fine. I
promise. Will I be lonely? Yes. Do I think you�re mad for starting another
course of training when you�ve already spent a year in the Auror program? Yes.
Will there be barriers between us? Undoubtedly. But it�s nothing our friendship
can�t survive. We�ve faced evil lockets together, Ron. How many other friends
can say that?�

�� That
worked, at least. By the end of Harry�s speech, Ron�s face had lost its tight
lines, and he was grinning. He slapped Harry on the back. �How could I have
forgotten?� he said. �Whatever Hermione and I deal with in the Department of
Mysteries, it couldn�t compare to evil lockets.� He paused reflectively.
�Certain you won�t come yourself?�

�� Harry
laughed. �Certain.� The Department of Mysteries, which had been reserved enough
to suffer the least infiltration during Voldemort�s control of the Ministry,
had still lost some of its members to the trials that followed Shacklebolt�s
election as Minister, and was advertising for new Unspeakable trainees. They
tried to make it sound exciting, but as far as Harry could tell, it was still
three-quarters sitting behind a desk to one-quarter being out in the field
examining dangerous magical objects. And he had to have excitement in
his life. The promise he had made to himself after repairing his wand to stay
out of trouble turned out to be strictly temporary.

�� Ron nodded.
�Then I reckon we�ll see you around.� He hesitated. Harry blinked, wondering
what was happening behind his friend�s clenched jaw and rapidly fluttering
eyelids.

�� And then
Ron grabbed him in a rough hug, the only time he had done something like that
for months now. Harry sighed and returned it, feeling a tension he hadn�t known
he still carried relax.

�� The door to
his office opened, and Hermione popped her head in. She only sniffed when she
saw them hugging and muttered something that sounded like, �About time.� Then
she looked at Harry. �We�re going to a pub to celebrate tonight, Harry. Want to
come?�

�� I�d love
to,� Harry said. �But there�s that theoretical exam in Tracking and Stealth
tomorrow�you know, the one you lucky bastards are walking away from�and I have
to study for it.� Gently, he let Ron go.

�� Hermione
huffed and crossed her arms. �You do realize that you�re unlikely to
meet people unless you go out, right?�

�� I don�t
want to �meet people.�� Harry stared back at her.

�� Harry, if
you would just��

�� Leave
it, Hermione.�

�� Yeah,
leave it,� said Ron, strolling over to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek.
Behind her back, he directed a look of pity at Harry, and then started to pull
his fianc�e out the door. �If a bloke doesn�t want to go out, then he doesn�t
have to go out.�

�� Ron, I
just think��

�� But the
door shut behind them then, and Harry was free to squash the thoughts that
tried to rise to the surface of his mind. He really did have an exam
tomorrow, and Auror Gillyflower aspired to follow in Snape�s boots by showing
that she was unimpressed with Harry�s name. Harry knew he would get the
hardest questions. He didn�t know the material that well.

�� He dived
into reading the book, and the thoughts were successfully squashed.

*

�� Of course,
when he got home to his flat that evening, they were waiting for him. Harry
still wasn�t used to walking into a room without the sound of someone else
moving around, without a warm scent that decorated the chairs and the pillows,
and without a voice that responded to his arrival.

�� Maybe I
should get a Crup,� he muttered.

�� His flat
was a pleasant enough place, with a drawing room that Hermione had helped him
decorate in Gryffindor colors, a kitchen big enough to prepare indifferent
meals, a loo that Harry kept clean because he didn�t have enough else to do,
and a single bedroom. But it was nothing compared to the flat he�d shared with
Ginny, which had had two bedrooms, an extra room to entertain company, and�that
indefinable something else that came from someone else living there.

�� Harry
fetched a bottle of butterbeer from the enchanted icebox and wandered into the
drawing room. Its two couches and two chairs faced inward to a broad oak table,
on which his books were piled. He could have got a wizarding telly that would
work even in the midst of all the magic, but he had found himself more inclined
to stare into space than pay attention to any diversion.

�� He sat down
in the most comfortable chair now and did it some more.

�� Hermione
just didn�t understand. Harry didn�t want to be gay. He had admitted it
because he didn�t want to lie, either. Pretending to Ginny that they could have
a future as a couple when he didn�t love her sexually would have been cruel.

�� On the
other hand, he wasn�t proud of it, and he resented Hermione�s constant
suggestions that he should be. Who would actually choose to be bent, if
it was a choice? No one, that�s who.

�� Harry took
a moody sip of his butterbeer and closed his eyes.

�� There were
other reasons he didn�t want to go out and please Hermione by chatting up
blokes. Not many people knew about his orientation right now. The moment they
did, he would have to deal with constant unwanted advances and the papers
speculating why this had happened.

�� And he
still hoped�

�� Hermione
would scold me so much if she knew about this�

�� He still
hoped that, if he didn�t have sex with other men, he wasn�t actually
gay. People who were bent slept with other people of the same sex, didn�t they?
At least, every definition Harry could find said so. So there was always the
chance that, if he could just refrain long enough, he would start finding women
attractive again. It hadn�t happened so far, but it was only a few months since
he broke up with Ginny. Give it time. He hadn�t thought Ron would hug him again
so soon, either.

�� Hermione
didn�t understand his attitude. Well. Let her not understand, then. Harry would
almost have liked to see her suddenly decide she liked girls and deal with that,
except that he wouldn�t wish this misery on anyone.

�� He finished
the butterbeer and resisted the temptation to get another. He wanted to look
over the exam material one more time. No one could say that he wasn�t being
responsible and steady now. Discovering he was gay hadn�t turned him into a
voracious sexual appetite on two legs, constantly flitting from one man to
another.

�� It never
will, he promised himself, and then flicked his wand to Summon the book
from the satchel he�d carried home from work.

*

�� Harry took
a deep breath as he stepped out of the room set aside for the theoretical
exams. Another nervous bunch of trainees, participating in an exam on Potions
from the notes Harry glimpsed, promptly began to shuffle past him. He let them
go, relieved to no longer be in their place.

�� He�d
survived. And he had no doubt that he was going to get passing marks. He�d
finally divined the often twisty way that Auror Gillyflower�s mind worked.
Every question he�d studied for, including uncommon twists to common
situations, was on the exam. Harry had still been the last to finish, but he
had finished with a slight, confident smile.

�� Gillyflower
stepped past him now, giving him a narrow-eyed look of dislike. Harry raised an
eyebrow at her. She huffed and pushed her way irritably up the corridor,
visible at once from a distance by the pinned-together sleeve that covered the
remains of her right arm. She�d lost it fighting the Carrows in a battle that
occurred before they were assigned to be �professors� at Hogwarts.

�� Harry
shuddered as his own memories of Amycus and Alecto Carrow came back to him.
Then he shook his head briskly. He was an Auror now, and Aurors were only
expected to save individual people, not the world.

�� He did
wonder who he would be partnered with when he finished the exams. He, Ron, and
Hermione had always planned to show how well they functioned together as a
triad unit, and demand to be assigned together. But the answer to that question
was still two years away. No one, not even Shacklebolt, had argued that the
training should be sped up simply because Harry was the Chosen One.

�� Harry
wandered back towards his office, yawning now and then; he really had stayed up
later than he should have last night studying for that exam. On the other hand,
now he could relax and go home if he wanted. There were no other exams he had
to participate in today.

�� He met Mr.
Weasley just as he reached his office. Harry smiled. Mr. Weasley had been the
one to accept Harry�s changed sexual orientation the most easily; it seemed he
had never really entertained his wife�s hopes that Harry would become part of
the Weasley family by marrying Ginny.

�� Arthur.�
Harry still stumbled on the name sometimes, but Arthur had insisted that, with
so many grown sons, he couldn�t be �Mr. Weasley� in public any longer, as no
one would know who the name meant. �What can I do for you?� Perhaps it was
another invitation to dinner at the Burrow. Harry accepted those happily, even
though it meant making uncomfortable eye contact with Ginny across the table.
Mrs. Weasley�s cooking remained superb, and Harry knew it gave her comfort to
have as many chairs filled as possible, so she didn�t have to notice the one
seat that always remained empty.

�� Harry.�
Mr. Weasley�s voice was so sharp that Harry lost his smile immediately. �No
one�s told you about Ron and Hermione?� He nodded at the door to his office, to
signify that Harry should open it.

�� Harry
swallowed, and wished that would actually cure a dry mouth and a throat
suddenly tight with fear. �No,� he said, tapping his wand to remove the wards.
Mr. Weasley followed right on his heels, relieving Harry of the need to give an
invitation. He took the sole chair without seeming to notice what he was doing,
leaving Harry to sit on the desk. �What happened?� Any number of horrible
scenarios raced through his head, from a magical accident in the Department of
Mysteries to sudden imprisonment in Azkaban for using illegal spells during the
war.

�� They�ve�gone.�
Mr. Weasley was twisting his hands and staring at the floor. The sight gave
Harry the strength to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

�� If
someone else is hurting, it�s up to me to do something about it.

�� What do
you mean, gone?� he asked quietly. He wouldn�t have thought that he could be
this calm, since he might be receiving news of his friends� deaths, but his
mind had put up a barrier against the thought of it being actual death.
Somehow, he couldn�t comprehend that.

�� They
joined the Department of Mysteries yesterday,� Mr. Weasley said. A desperate
sob worked its way up his throat. Harry shifted closer, so that he was holding
both the man�s shoulders. �There was a mandatory meeting last night for all the
new recruits. And the Unspeakables have been recruiting heavily in other
Departments, so there were quite a few people there. And then��

�� Something
happened?� Harry whispered, the visions of magical accidents returning to him.

�� We don�t know
what happened.� Mr. Weasley produced a handkerchief and blew his nose. �We only
know that no one can reach the Department of Mysteries now. Any lift we try to
take won�t go lower than the eighth floor. A few people have tried the
staircases, and the steps simply cease to exist below the Atrium.�

�� Harry
narrowed his eyes. �What about sending a Patronus to someone in the Department
of Mysteries? Or an owl?�

�� Both of
them return baffled.� Mr. Weasley shook his head. �There have been numerous
other spells tried: Summoning Charms directed at people who were there, any
number of unlocking spells, Finite Incantatem, and the use of a few
artifacts which are supposed to dispel magic that goes wrong. Nothing works. I
don�t know what�s happened to my son or Hermione, and I�� He reached up and
clasped one of Harry�s hands. �I thought you would want to know as soon as
possible, since you were in an exam when it was discovered.�

�� Harry
nodded. He was responding both to Mr. Weasley�s words and the unspoken plea he
could hear hidden behind them. Please save Ron and Hermione if you can. And
of course Harry could do no less. What was a hero for, if he couldn�t save his
best friends from a mysterious curse?

�� I�ll do
what I can,� he said. �And I�ll go to Minister Shacklebolt for help, instead of
jumping blindly into this.� There were times it paid to have known the current
Minister as a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

*

�� It didn�t
take Harry long to learn that the Ministry planned to do exactly nothing.

�� Possible
reports that could have made it to the Daily Prophet were suppressed.
Most members of other Departments refused to talk about the situation when
Harry asked them. Overnight, the maps throughout the Ministry that directed
visitors were redone, so that now the Department of Mysteries and, indeed,
anything lower than the eighth floor appeared never to have existed.

�� Harry grew
first incredulous, then angry, then enraged. When he finally managed to send an
owl to Shacklebolt, demanding an explanation, he received a terse letter in
return.

�� Dear
Harry:

�� I�m
sorry, but nothing can be done. If the public knew about the situation, there
would undoubtedly be a panic. And after the mess that Fudge and Scrimgeour left
the Ministry in, the last thing we need is the inference that we can�t control
our own Departments. I plan to resolve this as swiftly as possible. Rest
assured, I�m working around the clock with experts on all sorts of magical
disasters. But nothing can be done for right now.

�� Minister
Shacklebolt.

�� About that
time was when Harry decided that heroes also didn�t sit around waiting for
other people to rescue their friends.

*

�� Harry
patted the satchel slung on his left shoulder. He�d never been so grateful that
he�d made Hermione teach him that spell she�d used during the year of the war,
the one that could enlarge the inside of a bag until it contained an unlimited
number of supplies. He had a good store of food�he wouldn�t trust anything he
found to eat in the Department of Mysteries�several changes of clothes, a
Foe-Glass, a Sneakoscope, a notebook containing the most useful practical
suggestions he�d picked up during Auror training, several photographs of Ron
and Hermione that he could use in tracking spells, an owl feather he could
Transfigure into an owl during an emergency, a series of blankets to cushion
his sleep, cooking pots, a few stones to construct temporary hearths, his
Invisibility Cloak, and a few other magical artifacts he�d acquired during the
last year that might prove useful.

�� He�d
thought about bringing the Elder Wand. Could he really hold back on anything
that would allow him to rescue his friends? And then he�d thought of what might
happen if someone in the Department of Mysteries overcame him and stole the
Elder Wand.

�� No. He had
his wand of holly and phoenix feather tucked in his belt, and that would have
to do.

�� He stood,
now, at the top of the last flight of stairs leading down to the Department of
Mysteries. He hadn�t bothered with the lifts; he was certain that they bore
spells to tell the Minister and any of his interfering busybodies if someone
tried to access the ninth floor.

�� Only a few
more steps into the unknown.

�� Harry took
a deep breath and fixed Ron and Hermione�s faces in the forefront of his mind.
He was doing this for them. If he didn�t go after them, who would? And maybe
the Minister would find a solution in time, but maybe he wouldn�t. Harry
couldn�t trust to authority. If he had, he would never have made many of his
most important discoveries, and would certainly not have won the war. People
like McGonagall and the adults in the Order had done their best to keep him out
of things for as long as they could. It only resulted in disaster.

�� He took the
few steps down.

�� At once the
air in front of him turned thick and misty. Harry found it hard to breathe, as
if he stood in the presence of Dementors.

�� He wondered
for a moment if Dementors really could have taken over the Department,
but then, the Patronuses people in the upper floors kept trying to use would
have had some effect. Besides, this mist was warm, like steam in a
tropical jungle, not the deadly cold Harry associated with Dementors.

�� He cast a
Bubble-Head Charm on himself and forged forwards. The steps beneath his feet
became progressively harder, and then impossible, to see. At last, his feeling
foot found nothing but empty space. Harry cursed softly and paused for a
moment.

�� Nothing
for it.

�� He cast a
Feather-Light Charm on himself and leaped.

�� For long
moments, he drifted downwards, past snaking tendrils of what he could only hope
was mist and not some kind of grasping vine. He could hear his own breath
coming in hoarse, panicked near-shrieks. He had never realized how hard it
would be to simply fall, without a broom beneath him and with dozens of
possibilities as to how the fall might end.

�� And then,
before he was ready for it, a floor crunched under his feet. Harry dropped into
a crouch; old, dimly-remembered advice told him that trying to lock his knees
and land upright was a good recipe for shattering his legs. Pain ricocheted
through his body, quickly turning into numbness, but at least nothing seemed
broken.

�� Harry still
kept quiet, breathing, for long moments before he looked up.

�� Above him
was a vast, empty void of space, as black as the ceiling of a cavern. Harry
couldn�t see a sign of the stairs. He cast a Lumos Charm, then a
stronger spell that Aurors used to scout crime scenes at night, which cast a
floating ball of light in front of him. Still nothing looked back from the
frozen night above. Harry frowned and turned to regard the vista in front of
him.

�� A vast,
broad corridor, paved in gray stone and with sturdy rock walls that could put
some of Hogwarts� to shame, led away to the east. Small, spinning blue flames
rose from cracks between the stones here and there. They dissipated quickly,
but Harry didn�t like the look of them anyway. Visible tendrils of mist swayed
back and forth above head-height. At the far end of the corridor was a curve,
with a blaze of white light beyond it.

�� When in
doubt, go forwards.

�� He did,
leaping now and then to avoid the silent flames. They never touched him, and he
wanted to keep it that way. The corridor was even broader than he�d thought,
big enough for the dragon they�d ridden out of Gringotts to pass through
without ducking. Harry rubbed his arms and tried to convince himself that there
was a chill to the air after all, and that he wasn�t getting gooseflesh
out of fear.

�� The blaze
of white light grew steadily brighter as Harry neared, but in the end it was no
worse than a sunny day outside; only the blue-lit darkness of the tunnel made
it seem so radiant by contrast, Harry thought. He squinted cautiously through
the open door for a moment.

�� He thought
he made out the silhouette of a human figure sitting with its knees drawn up
and its head bowed over them.

�� Harry
licked his lips and tried to recall all the theoretical expertise on Tracking
and Stealth he�d just gained. Or would practical advice be more feasible, at
this point? Any way you sliced it, he knew he wasn�t supposed to simply charge
in�hard though that was when he thought this person might be Ron, Hermione, or
one of the enemies responsible for their disappearance.

�� He cast a
few charms, one that would dull the sound of his feet and one to lessen the
feeling of contact if he accidentally brushed against the person. Then he
lowered his satchel, fumbled for a moment, and pulled out his Invisibility
Cloak. Arranged carefully, it would just about cover him and his baggage.

�� He edged in
cautiously nevertheless, trying not to disturb the dust scattered on the floor
of the room too obviously. The figure never looked up, but Harry still paused a
good ten feet away from it and cast several detection spells to reveal traps.
There were none to be found.

�� That didn�t
reassure him.

�� He still
couldn�t make out the source of the light, except that it seemed to come from
somewhere further away in the roughly triangular room, and higher up the wall.
As long as it hadn�t made him miss something in the floor or air, Harry decided
he wouldn�t care about its origin for right now.

�� Closer, and
closer. He could make out the emaciated state of the figure, and the fact that
the hair spilling over its hunched shoulders and bowed face was pale. Naturally
blond? Or had it gone white with whatever tortures he�d been forced to endure?
Having seen the enormous chain that was locked around one leg, Harry was less
inclined to the view that he�d been someone performing those tortures.

�� He went too
fast in his eagerness, and his foot scuffed sharply. With a gasp, the prisoner
flung up his head and stared wildly around the room.

�� Harry�s
stomach dropped.

�� What the
fuck was Draco Malfoy doing here?
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Forgive Those Who Trespass

Forgive Those Who Trespass

Chapter One�What Heroes Do