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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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Thanks again for all the reviews!

Chapter Fifteen�The
Fourth Pensieve

�� Harry
walked into the fourth Pensieve room with Draco�s hand on his shoulder, now and
then flexing as if Draco were mimicking the motions he would have made with
longer fingers. Harry tolerated that for a time, then turned about and snapped,
�You were right, you know. It was a
stupid idea to run away from you into the Collecting Room and not pay attention
to your warnings. But we�re past that now. I won�t run away anymore.�

�� Draco
glanced at his hand on Harry�s shoulder, then at Harry, and raised his
eyebrows.

�� Yes, of
course you�re doing that because you think I�m about to run away.� Harry shook
his head, snorted, and rolled his eyes when Draco went on staring at him. �And
I�m telling you that I won�t.�

�� Draco�s
eyes widened humorously, but, of course, he said nothing. Harry was growing
irritated with himself for constantly expecting some audible response. Draco
dropped his hand from Harry�s shoulder, but strolled right beside him as they
went into the Pensieve room and towards the pillar made of rib-bone, which
Harry thought was nearly as annoying. He just wanted to get away from Draco and
have a little freedom to move.
Besides, that would be important, and not just for personal reasons, if it
turned out that there were traps or enemies in this room after all.

�� No traps,
no enemies. Only the familiar pillar, the Pensieve awaiting them on top of it,
and the sharp white light that made the doorway they had come through and the
far one both slots into darkness. Harry stooped to study the base of the
pillar, where the two letters waited like shadows. Em, this time.

�� Crepidinem? That sounded more like
Latin, but it wasn�t a word Harry had studied in Auror training or used in
incantations, and that automatically meant he didn�t know it. He gave a little
shrug and glanced at Draco. �Do you want to go with me into the memories this
time, or remain behind?�

�� Draco
studied him for long moments, as if the question were more absorbing than Harry
had meant it to be. Then he gave a decisive nod and stepped up beside Harry,
curling one hand around his arm.

�� All
right,� Harry murmured. He didn�t want to admit he was grateful for the
company, since the second Pensieve had shown him such horrific memories of
Draco getting his fingers bitten off, but he thought Draco could sense it
anyway, from the sheer trembling of his limbs. He cast the Sticking Charm on
his feet once more and stooped into the Pensieve.

�� Draco was
beside him when they fetched up in a large, rather cozy room, this one with a
central fireplace and tables radiating out from it. Harry glanced at the
tables, and then away again. They held glass jars of floating frog legs,
pickled brains, and less pleasant things. He didn�t do well with objects like
that even when they were absolutely necessary for Potions; he didn�t want to
imagine what the Unspeakables might have been doing with them.

�� But he
quickly had to pay attention to the figures in the center of the room, who were
laughing uproariously with one another in that way that signaled they were
pissed. Harry edged forwards, threading his way through the tables, with Draco
stubbornly close beside him. Harry told himself it was the atmosphere of the
place that made him so grateful not to be alone now.

�� One of the
figures was Draco, of course, but the other was the woman Pearl. She was pressing
a hand to her chest, hiccupping with the force of her own laughter. Draco
watched her with an expression Harry had never seen on his face: his eyebrows
slightly uplifted, his lips parted to show a dazzle of white, straight teeth.
His quick tongue darted along his lips to remove a trace of brilliantly-colored
liquid, perhaps Firewhiskey.

�� Harry
froze, shivering. The Draco beside him cast him a surprised glance. Harry shook
his head and murmured, �Nothing,� and then tried to focus on the conversation.

�� I�m not supposed to notice he�s attractive,
damn it. Thoughts like that are bad in and of themselves, and they�re worse
when they apply to a man as wounded and hurt as Draco is. Whatever he might
have looked like in the past, that�s come to an end.

�� A sly
thought that tried to whisper Draco wouldn�t always look like this darted across his mind. Harry shook his head
firmly and rejected it, which was made easier when Pearl began speaking again.

�� I never
would have expected�� She hiccupped and wiped her hand across her mouth. Harry
dismissed the suspicion that she�d munched on something out of the jars; it was
probably just more Firewhiskey. �I never would have expected that a dignified Malfoy such as yourself could succumb to
such childish impulses,� she finished, with tipsy dignity.

�� Draco�s
smile changed, becoming more reflective and private. Harry banished forming
images of stupid situations where Draco would smile at him like that. �Well, I
did. There was no limit to my awfulness when I was a child, really.� He
shrugged and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the stool in
front of him. �Luckily, I had people who could teach me better.�

�� You mentioned
Severus Snape.� Pearl sighed and collapsed into her own chair, tilting her head
back as if some soothing sunlight would bathe her face.

�� Yes,�
Draco acknowledged. �After I saw his heroism, clinging to my own ideals of
rightness and fairness�the ones that said I should always be privileged, always
treated as special�seemed petty. And there was the fact that I wasn�t around
Potter anymore, so I had no need to compete with him for prestige and
attention.�

�� Draco�s
nubby fingers dug into Harry�s arm. Harry glanced at him and managed a
half-smile, though he could feel the sweat prickling through the hair on the
nape of his neck. �Don�t worry,� he whispered. �I won�t hold your drunken
ramblings against you.�

�� Strangely,
Draco did not look reassured.

�� Harry shook
his head and turned back to the Draco in front of him, who had folded his hands
and was staring into the fireplace, absently playing with a fold of his robes.
Harry felt a sudden pang of pity. How long was this before he lost his fingers?
Did he have any idea how soon he would be disfigured, his engagement with the
Unspeakables turned from one of research into one of experimental subject?

�� And there
was someone else who taught me, too.� The historical Draco�s eyes were abruptly
alight, and he flung a sly glance at Pearl, who blinked and tried to sit up, as
if to prove that she was still paying attention. �Of course, I highly doubt I
should talk about him to you. He�s the source of stories that would offend your
virgin ears.�

�� If you think
I�m a virgin, Mr. Malfoy, then I haven�t done any job of educating you.� Pearl
snorted and lifted her cup in a toast to someone unseen.

�� Oh, but
there�s virgin and then there�s virgin.�
This Draco waved his hand airily. �I�m not sure I should tell you about him.�
He paused and pretended to consider while Pearl pouted at him. Harry was a
little startled at how well he could read the other man�s emotions; it seemed
that practicing on the Draco at his side could help even with a Draco who had
his voice and his whole body and his confidence. �On the other hand,� he went
on musingly, �I told you about Severus Snape, and this couldn�t be much worse
than that.�

�� No, of
course not,� Pearl said, so eagerly that Harry had to stifle a laugh. He
doubted the Draco watching stiffly at his side would think this scene at all
funny. �Did he kill anyone? Did he take you over his knee and spank you?�

�� The
historical Draco laughed and stretched his hands towards the fire. �Nothing
like that! On the other hand, he did�� He trailed off for a moment, and Harry,
staring at his face, glanced down at his hands almost too late. They were busy
making a series of explanatory, obscene gestures.

�� Pearl
stared at him for a moment, and then let her mouth fall open. �You�re gay?�

�� Harry
shivered, a strange coldness like a flying splinter of ice glimmering up from
the middle of his chest. He shook his head and very carefully didn�t glance at
the Draco beside him, who must be embarrassed at such a personal revelation.

�� Draco
nodded. �Yes. And Jason taught me, hmm, rather a lot.� He closed his eyes and
hummed beneath his breath. �He�s one of the reasons why I�m here. He let me
know my life hadn�t come to an end after the war. I could still study new
disciplines and make something of myself. But I wanted the Dark Mark gone. Add
that to the confidence Jason gave me, and, well, I followed up on Richard�s
call.� He leaned forwards coaxingly. �So, I told you something important about
me and the reasons why I�m interested in this research. You promised me you�d
tell me your motives. What were they?�

�� Pearl�s
face became solemn. Harry struggled to fix his full attention on it. He was
sure that this was the important part of the conversation, the one they�d come
here to hear. It didn�t matter how much Draco�s revelation had shocked him; he
had no reason to think about it before anything else.

�� Still, a
voice in the back of his mind continued to chirp over and over, Malfoy�s bent!

�� Well,�
said Pearl at last, �you�ve probably worked out by now that a good number of my
ancestors were Muggleborn.� She darted a glance at Draco to see if he would
explode.

�� Draco waved
a hand and snorted elegantly. �Yes, I got that, Pearl. I got it the moment I
realized I don�t recognize your last name. What I want to know is why that
would inspire you to do this research.� This time, his hand-wave encompassed
all the jars sitting on tables. Harry shifted his weight, surprised at how
grateful he was to realize this was Pearl�s research and not Draco�s. �Are you
looking for a way to become pure-blooded?�

�� If it were
that simple,� Pearl muttered, �I would never have got involved with looking
into immortality. No.� She sighed, and remained still for so long that Harry
had to resist the impulse to step forwards and shake her. At last she said,
�Many members of my family have died from Muggle diseases that wizards don�t
often get. Cancer, especially. I�m here to find a way to combat those diseases,
and create treatments that work better than either Muggle medicine or healing
spells.�

�� Hm.� The
historical Draco leaned his head against his chair and stared with fascination
at the ceiling. �I can see that, I suppose. And of course it would benefit your
relatives as well as you.� He nodded firmly, even though he hadn�t looked at
Pearl to see her own nod. �That�s good. Family�s important.� He hiccupped.

�� After I
watched my sister die of breast cancer,� Pearl said, �I promised that I
wouldn�t let anything stand in the way of my research. Not other people�s
objections. Not moral objections to Dark magic. Not silly laws.� She paused,
and her voice, gentle as it was, held a warning when it spoke next, a warning
Harry doubted the Draco of the past heard. �Not even friendships.�

�� Understandable,�
Draco muttered, and then his chin fell on his chest and he let out a deep
snore.

�� Pearl rose
and arranged several cushions behind his head. Harry could see her gaze linger
on Draco�s face for a moment, as if she were attempting to memorize the way it
looked, whole and unhurt. Then she turned to prod the fire, and in a whirl of
sparks, the memory dissolved and left them in front of another one.

�� Harry
blinked. This was yet another torture chamber, with a human-shaped metal frame
set in the stone floor. The frame was arranged as if to hold someone tied
spread-eagled, but there was additional space on the sides of the flanks Harry
didn�t understand. Was it meant to accommodate an obese wizard?

�� A scream
resounded from the other side of the room.

�� Harry
turned sharply, barely feeling Draco lean against him as if he had suddenly
lost his balance. He saw the past Draco, his eyes wide and his face full of
terror, briefly tear free from two Unspeakables who held him and try to spring
out the door he�d just come in by. The door slammed as he reached it, and Draco
clawed at it with nubby fingers, still screaming.

�� Harry
shivered. They took his voice after his
fingers, then. Is that what we�ve come here in order to watch?

��

�� But when
the Unspeakables had strapped Draco down to the metal frame in the middle of
the floor and lifted their wands, he knew it wasn�t.

�� Harry
recognized one word in the Latin incantation the hooded Unspeakables used, cut, and thought about closing his eyes.
But if he would have felt cowardly closing his eyes when he was by himself in
the Pensieve, and no one could tell whether he was witnessing the crimes against
Draco or not, how much worse would he feel with the companion at his side?

�� He kept
watching, and did not turn away when the spell sliced straight down the middle
of Draco�s chest and opened the flaps of skin along the sides like a door.
Those flaps rested on the flat part of the metal frame that had so puzzled
Harry. Somehow, the revelation that the Unspeakables had known exactly what
they would be doing and constructed this frame ahead of time was as disgusting
as what they were doing; Harry had to swallow again and again.

�� Against
him, Draco shivered. Harry, thinking they might both get through this better if
he showed that he could still protect someone, wrapped his arm around Draco�s
shoulders.

�� The past
Draco was screaming, struggling, and straining, but the chains on his limbs
didn�t allow him to rise very far, and he had no movement in his torso at all.
Whether that was the result of a chain or another spell, Harry didn�t know.
Somehow, he managed to continue watching as the nearest Unspeakable, face
completely covered, laid his wand against the flap of skin on the right side
and began to sever Draco�s rib bones from it.

�� The past
Draco was cursing now, a steady stream that dissolved at the end into broken
whimpers and moans. Harry�s Draco continued to lean against him, trembling like
a rabbit. Harry was impressed he was keeping his feet, and stroked the other
man�s neck and hair as soothingly as he could.

�� The ribs
came away, leaving holes in the canopy of flesh and skin. The Unspeakables
carefully stacked the bloody bones beside them, with more care than they showed
for the living person. Then they touched their wands to the chest flaps and
cast another series of spells that made Harry want to flinch. Whether he could
recognize the Latin or not, he knew hostile intent when he saw it.

�� Small buds
formed on the flaps of skin, and the past Draco screamed again. Harry frowned
and took a step forwards, leaving his own Draco behind for a moment. He had to see what was going on. He didn�t
think he would have the strength to watch this again, and once the memories
were back in his own head, Draco might or might not be inclined to talk about
them.

�� The buds,
Harry realized with a jolt, were new ribs. They lengthened into knobs of bone
as he watched, and then the Unspeakables folded Draco�s chest back together
like a cloth tent and cast rough healing spells, stealing the sight from him.

�� Harry
closed his eyes. They only took Draco�s
fingers once, but they took his ribs again and again. No wonder they had enough
bones to make the Pensieve bases.

�� How many times was that done? How many times
was he made to suffer that torment, to go through his own pain, and know each
time that it would only happen again, and again, and again? That they would
never let him die?

�� Harry could
not conceive of giving up, but he could see, now, how death might be a mercy
and a kindness, not just a means to save other people from a fate even more
horrible.

�� The
Unspeakables rose and unhooked Draco from the metal frame as the healing spells
settled and the red lines on his chest became white scars. He had stopped
screaming some time since. His eyes were dead, and his head hung in a way that
made Harry ache to hold him.

�� His own
Draco, however, wanted holding, if the way he had pressed himself against
Harry�s side like an abused puppy was any indication. Harry turned and buried
his face in Draco�s hair, telling himself he wasn�t seeking illegitimate
comfort, and that he wasn�t missing anything. The Pensieve had gone briefly
dark around them, the way it did when moving from one memory to another. There
would be nothing to see for a few
more seconds, and Harry was confident that they could understand the next
memory even if they missed some of the introduction.

�� Draco
shook, and shook, and shook. Harry stroked his hair as often as the tremors
raced through his body, wishing helplessly that there was something more to be done.

�� There is, he thought suddenly. I can�t change the past, but I can change
the future. That especially holds true if Ron and Hermione are already dead. I
can�t help the pain Draco�s suffered, but I can carry out my plan to free him,
as soon as I have the means.

�� His
breathing steadied, as his resolve steadied him.
He felt able to turn around and face the next scene with confidence.

�� This was a cell.
No question about that, Harry thought, staring at the pallet Draco sat on, and
the chains extending from the wall, though at the moment they weren�t being
used. The Draco of the memory leaned his head on the wall and panted. Harry
wasn�t sure why, but from the sweat on his face and the scratches on the backs
of his hands, he thought Draco might have been pounding on the door, trying to
open it. The only light came from sconces along the walls, carefully placed
above any height Draco could reach.

�� Harry
cocked his head, and nodded grimly when he saw that Draco�s fingers were gone and
that the skin around his chest sagged. This must be a fairly late memory, after
they had begun to use Draco as their tool for the maze.

�� Then he
remembered the last image, of the ribs regrowing, and shuddered. Who knew how
long they had actually tormented Draco before they had felt ready to cast the
spell and make him the foundation of their schemes? Six months? Nine months?
Most of the year he had been missing?

�� He glanced
to the side to see how his Draco was taking this. He saw him standing grimly straight,
staring at his past self. Harry hesitated, then held out an arm, wondering if
Draco would take the support now.

�� He walked
over without a pause and stood under the circle of Harry�s arm, but the
expression on his face and the angle of his gaze didn�t alter.

�� The door
unlocked itself with a suddenness and a rasping of wood and iron that made
Harry jump. The Draco under his arm simply stood as if nothing could disturb
him. The past Draco whirled around and brought his hands up in front of his
face with a pathetic defensive helplessness.

�� Richard
stepped into the cell and eyed Draco critically for a moment. Harry bit his lip
to keep from shouting in rage when he realized Richard was looking at Draco the
way Harry had seen Muggles study dogs they were breeding.

�� You should
know,� Richard said, without changing his tone at all or giving any inflection
to the words, �that your mother is dead, thanks to your disobedience.�

�� The past
Draco made a sound like a cat being dissected. The Draco under Harry�s arm
trembled like a leaf. Harry found himself stroking the other man�s hair again,
whispering, �No. No. That�s not true. It was never true.�

�� Richard
shot his wand out and chanted a soft spell beneath his breath that Harry couldn�t
make out. A silver stream of thought immediately uncurled from the trapped
Draco�s temple and into a vial he held ready. Richard corked the vial and held
it up to study, turning it from side to side, as if different light on it would
really show him differences in the composition.

�� Why did
you do that?� whispered the past Draco. His voice was thick with horror and
exhaustion. A voice, Harry thought, as he held his Draco tighter, that had been
ruined by months of screaming.

�� The memories
that will become the foundation for part of the maze must be exact, of course,�
Richard said absently. �Memories of pain and suffering, or memories that lead
to pain and suffering. We missed that essential truth for a long time, but we
know it now.� He swirled the vial once more, then left, adding over his
shoulder, �Your mother is still alive, of course. But we had to see what the
jolt of pain would do to a captured memory.�

�� The Draco
in the cell slumped and put his hands over his eyes. Harry could still see the
gleam of tears, since his shortened fingers didn�t cover them completely. For a
moment, the memory paused, as though debating showing them something else, and
then Harry found himself blinking his own eyes and stepping back from the
Pensieve.

�� He glanced
to the side at once. Draco had his mouth slightly open and his eyes tightly
shut, as if that would make what he had seen in the Pensieve easier to bear.
For all Harry knew, it would. He held Draco without speaking, letting his hand
cup the other man�s jaw or travel through his hair when he thought it would
help.

�� His mind
was on the two most important pieces of information he had learned in the
Pensieve. First, that the memories placed in the maze had to be memories of
pain and suffering.

�� That doesn�t make my plan to free Draco
impossible, but it does make things more complicated. I�ll have to be very careful.

�� The second
was the fact that Draco was bent, and even as Harry berated himself for
considering that important, as compared to the anguish Draco had experienced,
his mind ran about and played excitedly with the information.

�� Does that mean that�?

�� But Harry
knew the answer to his own question.

�� No. One of three things is going to happen.
One, you�ll both die here, in which case it can�t matter. Second, you�ll find Ron and Hermione and free them, and free
Draco, but he�ll still be wounded physically and mentally, and he�ll need lots
of recovery time in St. Mungo�s. Nothing he would like less than someone
fawning around him and thinking that he might be attractive. Third, you�ll carry through your plan and free Draco
from the maze, in which case no attraction will be important to you ever again.

�� Harry
snorted to himself. That�s one way of
solving the crisis of my sexual orientation.

�� Then he
grabbed his stupid thoughts and made himself confront the truth. You won�t be gay, and there�s no guarantee
that Draco would ever find you remotely attractive. Not all straight men and
straight women date each other. Why should two men date just because they might
share the same preferences? No, there�s no question of this, and you can�t
allow this to change how you treat him.

�� He felt the
motion in his arms and looked down to see Draco staring at him with solemn,
open eyes. Harry smiled, and made sure to keep the smile purely detached and
sympathetic, with no hint of the stupid things it might have become. �Hey,� he said quietly. �Ready to take your
memories back?�

�� Draco took
a breath that seemed to go on forever, and then nodded.

�� Good,�
Harry said, and extended his wand towards the Pensieve, while his admiration
for Draco threatened to burst through his chest.

�� See? That would be a more valid reason to be
interested in him than just because he�s bent. And you won�t be interested in
him, because you can�t be. End of story.

*

�� SoftObsidian74:
Oh, I think Harry�s reaction in the last chapter was perfectly understandable.
Just hasty. ;) And thanks, I�ll add you to the update list.

�� Mangacat: I�m
afraid I don�t know half the sources of the ideas for this story anymore.

�� QueenBoadicea:
You�re right about how obsession blinds.

�� WeasleyWench:
I didn�t get the e-mail�send it again?

�� I don�t
generally work with a beta as most betas can�t keep up with my speed of
writing! Also, I�ve had some bad experiences in the past with people who said
they would get back to me and never did.

�� Oh, Richard
does know the maze is a failure (or the other Unspeakables still alive do). But
that doesn�t mean there�s been a halt in their plans�

�� Lilith:
Yes, sorry. I can�t answer those questions yet.

�� Off_the_deep_end:
I�ve added you to the update list.

�� Evalhanne:
Thanks! The center is the climax of the story, I promise you that.
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Forgive Those Who Trespass