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Bad Faith	By : Jad Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6104 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I

Sins of the Father

I've got no defence,

I've got no attack.

I can't leave, I can't stay,

And I've got no way back.

- Johnny Clegg

Woman Be My Country

: : :

It was a very dark and stormy night that Draco Malfoy surrendered himself to the Ministry.

He had apologised about the weather, because he was sincerely trying to make the whole situation as anticlimactic as possible.

Lucius Malfoy's body had been recovered only the day before. It hadn't been a very clean kill, if Harry remembered the details correctly, much nastier than the typical Killing Curse. And then Draco had appeared on the Ministry doorstep almost twelve hours later and was immediately arrested and detained by Aurors. Harry himself had not been present, but home and quite happily asleep. He came to work the following morning to find the office in an uproar.

It appeared that Draco wasn't just handing himself over for a life sentence in Azkaban. In fact, according to the memo Kingsley Shacklebolt had stapled to the walls of all the Auror cubicles, Draco had produced some very good lawyers and was determined to strike a deal trading information on the Dark Lord and his followers.

Unsurprisingly, the Minister was having a very hard time getting the office to quieten.

'This is outrageous,' Kingsley said to Harry as he took off his cloak. 'Robards hasn't let anyone in since Malfoy summoned his bloody attorneys.'

Harry craned his neck and managed a glance at the office containing Draco. The glass was frosted but he could make out several dark-coloured blobs behind the door. 'He can't honestly think we're going to let Malfoy off,' Harry said to Kingsley.

'I wouldn't bet on anything yet. Apparently Malfoy has some juicy information.'

'I bet.' Harry scowled and moved closer, squeezing his way past the mob of muttering Aurors.

Gawain Robards, current Head of office, and Arthur Weasley, now an Auror himself, were both whispering frantically in the Minister's ear. Harry remembered when Arthur had accepted his promotion, which he did only under the condition that he was in charge of all cases to do with the mistreatment of Muggles. With Voldemort on the loose, this ended up being quite a lot of cases, and Mr Weasley had quickly become one of the more important members of the Auror Squad.

Robards spotted Harry approaching and beckoned him forward, moving him and Arthur away from Scrimgeour. 'Potter! About bloody time. Here, have some coffee,' a Styrofoam cup was shoved into his hands. Robards looked around to make sure no one else was listening in, lowering his voice to the point that Harry had to strain to hear him. 'Malfoy has demanded to speak to you privately, before his attorneys will let him say another word.'

Harry stared at him. 'Well then I guess he's taken a vow of silence, because he can get stuffed.'

'Dammit, Potter.' Robards took Harry by the arm as he attempted to leave. 'He's unarmed and you'll have the entire Auror department outside the door. I know you two have some ugly history, but he's already turned over some valuable information and I would really like to hear the rest of it. Swallow your pride and find out what the hell he wants.'

Arthur seemed to decide it was appropriate to say something, and added, 'Harry, maybe you should just see what he has to say.' He topped it off with a sincerely sympathetic look.

Harry leaned back against the wall and let his head knock against it a few times. Robards had let his arm go, but wasn't through with him yet.

'Just ten minutes of your time, Potter, that's all I ask.'

'Five,' Harry said, removing his wand from the pocket of his robes to unlock the office door. 'But if he gives me any crap, I won't be using my wand to knock him out.'

: : :

Draco would not have killed Dumbledore.

- JKR, Leaky Cauldron 2005

: : :

'What if he doesn't talk to you?'

Ricardo Valestute was one of the Malfoy family's many attorneys, and one who had defended Lucius originally when he had been charged for helping the Dark Lord twenty years ago. Draco's mother had insisted on hiring him once more.

'Don't worry, he will.'

'From what I understand, he's never been very fond of you.'

'Feeling's mutual.'

'So how do you know that he'll speak with you?'

'Because he was a Gryffindor,' Draco said. 'Trust me.'

Draco winced when the door slammed open. Harry had his arms crossed and looked rather sour, and Robards gave him a sharp nudge from behind into the room.

'If the rest of you would come with me please.' Arthur motioned to the three lawyers Draco had with him. They all looked at their client, and Ricardo in particular looked as if he'd prefer to stay, but Draco waved them away. Arthur escorted them from the room quickly, leaving Harry alone with Draco Malfoy for the first time in four years.

Harry took a very long, hard look at the man before him. He had to admit, Draco was not what he had been expecting. Sure, he still looked like Malfoy; tall, blonde, nasty and sharp featured, but instead of smirking as Harry so often remembered him, he was frowning and avoiding Harry's eyes. His hair was longer than Harry remembered, too, and with his head tilted down it allowed his long fringe to brush the line of his jaw, shadowing his eyes from Harry's view. He was dressed in plain but elegant black robes with silver fastenings, and black polished boots were poking out from underneath his cloak. His skin was a more deathly pale than Harry could ever remember seeing, as if he had been kept out of the sunlight for far too long. Long-fingered hands gripped the edge of the table Draco was leaning against before he finally let go and stood up straight. Harry felt a small surge of indignation at the realisation that Draco had somehow managed to remain the exact same height as he had, even after all these years.

Having said that, the very last time he had seen Draco, he had been running across the grass outside Hogwarts with Snape, who had killed Dumbledore just a few minutes earlier. This did not help endear him to Harry, no matter how desperate the prick may have been looking.

'You have five minutes, Malfoy.'

'Then I'll get right to the point.' Draco finally looked up, and Harry's gaze was met with familiar, stormy-grey eyes. 'I want your help.'

Harry shook his head; he had just experienced an auditory hallucination. 'You what?'

'I want to join your fan club,' Draco said, rolling his eyes. 'I want your help, Potter.'

Harry scowled. 'Why should I give a damn what you want?'

'Because I have something you want,' Draco said, putting his hands in his pockets. 'And we share priorities.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Do you know why my father's dead?'

'Don't care,' Harry said coolly.

'Of course you don't,' Draco said. 'My father died protecting my mother and me, as hard as it may be for you to believe. I'm surprised we managed to hide for as long as we did, and now I'm stuck between a Bludger and a hard place. Between going to you or You-Know-Who, I figured you, at least, would hear me out before hexing me into oblivion.'

'Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?'

'Not at all. I don't, however, intend to die anytime soon. Which is where you come in.'

'What does that have to do with me? I want to kill you as much as Voldemort does, trust me.'

Draco winced slightly at the name, but continued without losing a beat. 'You're only the most highly protected wizard of all time,' he proclaimed, rolling his eyes. 'Not to mention the only person alive that's seen, defied, escaped and defeated the Dark Lord—what? Four, or is it five times now?'

'I don't see your point.'

'How in hell did he ever pass his N.E.W.T.s?' Draco asked the ceiling, and then gave Harry an impatient sort of look. 'What I want from you is a covenant.'

Harry didn't even register the insult. Malfoy wanted a deal? With him?

'You've got some nerve,' Harry spat. He turned and started towards the door.

'I know where one of the Horcruxes is,' Draco said quietly.

Harry froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat. 'How—'

'Snape,' Draco answered simply, then continued quickly, getting it all out in a rush. 'I also know where a lot of his followers tend to congregate—their homes, safe houses, patterns, who's fucking who over and what for. Fuck's sake, Potter, I could even tell you the brands of robes he wears.'

Harry let go of the doorknob and turned back to face the blonde. 'Why me? There are plenty of other alternatives for Ministry protection. In case you forgot, I'm one of his prime targets. You'd be about as safe with me as you would be covered in sheep's blood in the Forbidden Forest.'

'Oh, don't worry, I know all about my alternatives,' Draco said bitterly, sitting on the edge of the table and putting his hands on his thighs. 'And I have no desire to sit in a cell, no matter what they want to call it.'

'You practically have for the past four years. Why the change in heart?'

'Because I can't help you kill that son of a bitch as a prisoner, idiot.'

Harry actually laughed. 'Sorry if I find that a little hard to believe, coming from the one who tried to kill Dumbledore.'

Draco recoiled at the use of the name again. 'Well, believe it. I loved my father, Potter,' he said seriously, his eyes narrowing. 'Just because you've never known the love of a parent doesn't excuse you from acknowledging some of us are capable of it.'

'Fuck you—'

'I did what I did because if I hadn't, he would have killed my parents. I can't imagine you know what that feels like, since yours were dead from the beginning. But what would you have done if it had been your precious Weasley and his lovebird Muggle on the table?'

'I would have fought!'

'Exactly!' Draco pushed himself off the table and closed the distance between them, and stuck his finger at Harry's chest. 'Because you could. Do you know what he would have done to me if I had refused him? To defy You-Know-Who would have been a death sentence to my entire family. Well fuck that, Potter. Nobody was worth that to me, not even Dumbledore.'

Harry stared at him for a long moment, and resisted with difficulty the urge to call him a coward. After all, some of it made sense. He just hadn't let himself think of it that way before. It had always been much easier on his mind to assume Malfoy was just, well, evil. He backed away from Draco, turning his face back towards the frosted glass of the door.

'If I agreed,' Harry said finally, 'what then?'

He heard Draco expel a breath. 'Well, first, I go on trial. If I get off—if being the key word, mind you—then I tell you whatever I can. And you get a Horcrux.'

'And if you don't get off?'

'Well, the plan is for that not to require an answer, you see,' Draco said.

'And what do you think they're going to do?' Harry demanded, wheeling around. 'Forgive you and say, "It's okay that you tried kill Dumbledore, why don't you hang out with Harry Potter, we don't think you're trying to do him in, or anything—'''

'No,' Draco said, interrupting him. He stared at Harry for a moment, looking rather hesitant. Then he looked at the floor again. 'Not unless you testify on my behalf.'

Harry stared at him. 'Testify. For you,' he spat. 'I take it back, you don't have nerve, you're insane. If you think for one minute that I'm going defend you after what you did—'

'And what, exactly, am I guilty of?' snarled Draco. 'Except trying to protect my family?'

'You let Death Eaters into a school!' shouted Harry, furious now. 'And a werewolf on top of that! Do you have any idea what happened that night? Who got hurt?' Images of seeing Bill Weasley, recently mauled by Greyback, sitting in the hospital wing flashed through his mind, and he shoved Draco backwards, hard. 'You destroyed people's lives that night! And for what? Because you were too much of a fucking coward to stand up for yourself!'

'I didn't know what else to do!' Draco had stumbled back against the table from the force of the shove, but he didn't retaliate. 'Tell me, oh Chosen One, what should I have done? What would the great Harry fucking Potter have done if he were me?'

'Anything!' snapped Harry. 'Anything but what you did! If the Order hadn't shown up do you have any idea what would have happened that night? Do you really think that the Death Eaters would have left after just killing Dumbledore? Do you really think Greyback would have distinguished between Slytherins and Gryffindors? You put everyone—even your friends, Malfoy—in danger that night! And for what?You? Your family? What about their families? Just because you're wealthy and fucking pure-blood doesn't make you worth more than anyone—not even the Weasleys!'

'Oh, that's rich coming from you!' Draco snapped back. 'If I recall, you got plenty of people hurt, running off after Black because you were stupid enough to fall for the trap! Or did you forget about that?' he added savagely, at the look of surprise appearing on Harry's face. 'You've made mistakes too, you fucking hypocrite! But when The Boy Who Fucked Up gets people hurt, he gets forgiven!'

'I never asked forgiveness for that! I didn't mean for anyone—'

'Neither did I!' Draco's voice had gotten raw from all of the yelling, and he cleared his throat several times before his breathing stabilised. He looked severely shaken, still supporting himself with table. Harry was shocked to see his eyes watering, and he suddenly had a feeling of déjà vu as he remembered walking in on him back in sixth year, crying in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle. The blonde had the same look on his face—only this time instead of sobbing, he still looked extremely ill, to the point that he might vomit.

Harry had taken several deep breaths before he asked abruptly, 'You're on Veritaserum?'

Draco glared at him, his cloudy eyes darkening. 'Of course I'm on fucking Veritaserum.'

Harry took a moment to organise his thoughts—he'd been trained in basic interrogation, and knew how to ask most questions so that someone on Veritaserum couldn't find a loophole.

'Would you have killed Dumbledore? If the Death Eaters hadn't shown up, I mean—would you have killed him yourself?'

'No,' Draco said without hesitation.

'Why not?'

'I….' Draco stopped and thought about it for a moment before the Veritaserum forced him to finish. 'I didn't want to. I didn't want to kill anybody. And I believed him.'

'About protecting you?'

Draco took another few moments to think before answering. 'All of it,' he said.

'Are you working for Voldemort?'

'No,' Draco hissed, wincing. 'Will you stop using his name?'

Harry ignored him. 'Are you working with any of the Death Eaters?'

'No.'

'Have you been in contact with Snape in the last four years?'

'No.'

'Do you know where Snape is?'

'No,' Draco said again. 'How about you ask all these at the same time, so I only have to answer "no" once?'

'Are you planning to kill me?'

'Very possibly if you keep on with the stupid questions,' Draco growled.

'Are you planning at any time in the future on returning to Voldemort or his supporters with any information you've learned?'

Draco flinched again. 'For fuck's sake, no. I want to watch the bastard burn for what he did to my father.'

'Your father deserved it,' Harry said truthfully.

Draco glared at him furiously. 'But do I deserve it? Unless you want to take another look at the mob outside this room waiting to mount my head on a stick to remind yourself, you are the only thing between me and Azkaban, Potter. My lawyers can talk and debate until they're blue in the face about all the technicalities and loopholes they can find, but when it comes down to it, I'm still the son of a Death Eater. All they see is this–' he pointed at himself, '–same hair, same eyes, same face—which just makes me my father as far they're concerned.'

Harry was doing some very hard thinking. He really wanted the Malfoys to pay for what happened—but Lucius was already dead, and he was having a hard time finding a reason to blame Draco for his father's actions. And as much as Harry hated to admit it, a lot of the things Malfoy had said to him had struck home, and it bothered him deeply. But what about all of the people he had hurt? Malfoy had been horrible at Hogwarts—kids or not, he had taken advantage of every situation he could in order to hurt people. Tormenting Harry at every opportunity, always calling Hermione Mudblood, constantly insulting the Weasleys… the list went on and on. He'd nearly killed Katie Bell with that cursed necklace, and then Ron again with the poison. If Harry hadn't been there, Ron would be….

Harry sat down on the table next to Draco, his head feeling very heavy all of a sudden. He had put most of these things behind him, filed them away in the furthest corners of memory, because he had more important things to think about nowadays. Having Draco here was bringing it all back to the surface, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to condemn him for the stupid little things. And after listening, he wasn't so sure about the big things anymore.

Draco ran his hand through his hair, looking nervous now that Harry was silent. Taking a long, slow breath, he looked down at his feet. 'Look, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'For all of it. Everything—and I don't expect to be forgiven for any of it, I don't even deserve it. And of all people, the last person I ever wanted to ask for a favour was you. But I need this. If not for me, at least—my mum—' His voice broke on the word and he stopped. After a pause, he added, 'Please.'

Harry was floored. Malfoy had just apologised to him—and on Veritaserum at that.

Standing up, Harry pocketed his wand. 'You're asking for an awful lot.'

'I know.'

'You don't deserve it,' Harry told him. 'I don't owe you anything.'

'I know.'

Harry made towards the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. 'Just one more thing.'

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'I want to know what happened that night. The night Snape took you from Hogwarts.'

Draco suddenly looked uncomfortable, but began to open his mouth.

'Not now,' Harry finished. 'Later. But I want to know.'

Draco closed his mouth, nodded, and Harry left the room.

: : :

When Harry came out of the office, several people crowded into his field of vision at once.

'Harry! Are you okay?'

'We heard shouting—'

'—Arthur wouldn't let us in—'

'—thought he attacked you—'

'—what did he want?'

Harry ducked away from them, moving as quickly as he could towards Mr Weasley, and told him that they needed to talk—right now.

'I'll be back in a minute,' he snapped at Robards. Any other time, he may have thought twice about snapping at his boss, but none of that mattered at the moment. They could all wait; he had to talk with someone in the Order, and soon.

'What is it?' Arthur asked, jogging to keep up with Harry as he headed for the lift.

'We need to go somewhere… safe,' Harry told him. 'I need to talk to McGonagall.'

Arthur checked his watch. 'Well, if we hurry, we could be in and out of Hogwarts before the lunch rush.' Harry nodded and closed the lift doors behind him.

Once in the entrance hall, they booked a fireplace to Floo directly to Hogwarts, sending a magically delivered post ahead to alert McGonagall to their imminent arrival. She was just folding up the note as Harry arrived in her fireplace, coughing and wiping his glasses clean. Ever since his first experience with the Floo Network and landing in Knockturn Alley, it had remained his least favourite way to travel.

Arthur soon followed him, wiping ashes out of his eyes. 'Good morning, Minerva.'

The portraits above her stirred, looking at the visitors with interest, and Albus Dumbledore's painting winked down at Harry. McGonagall peered at them both over her square spectacles and folded her hands on the desk. 'This is quite the unexpected visit,' she said curtly. 'I take it that it's urgent?'

Arthur looked at Harry, who had begun pacing. Even though he was no longer her student, he still had trouble holding McGonagall's gaze. The woman had a way of making him nervous without even trying. Taking a deep breath, he explained to the both of them everything Malfoy had said.

When he was finished, McGonagall took a moment to digest the information. 'That's quite a demand.'

'Pretty much the same thing he told me the other night,' Arthur said.

Harry and McGonagall both stared at him.

'Oh,' he said, looking as if he had just remembered something. 'Malfoy showed up at Headquarters last night.'

'What?' said Harry, his mouth hanging open.

'Why weren't any of us notified?' McGonagall demanded, standing up.

'How does he know where—' Harry began, but Arthur put up a hand to interrupt him.

'Lupin was there. He heard Malfoy out, and summoned me there. Malfoy claims he got the location from Severus years ago.'

'Severus?' exclaimed McGonagall, looking cross.

'Would that even work?' Harry asked. 'I mean, wouldn't Dumbledore have had to tell him directly?'

'Well, not exactly. Do you recall how you learned the location?' asked Arthur.

Harry thought about it. 'Yeah… it was on a piece of parchment. Moody—'

'Exactly,' said Arthur. 'As long as the note written by the Secret-Keeper, and intended for you, given to you from someone who already knows the information—'

'—then it works,' McGonagall finished for him. 'But the biggest question is why Dumbledore would do it, and without telling anyone.'

'Well, he obviously told Snape,' growled Harry. 'But still—Malfoy—he would have had to have kept it all this time!'

'Well, that's entirely possible,' Arthur told him. 'And Lupin said that when he showed up, he was looking for you. And now we know why. He wants you to get him off the hook.'

In a flush of green flames, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the fireplace, dusting off his robes. 'Sorry I'm late, I had to lose Robards—what's the emergency?'

'It appears that Mr Malfoy is seeking sanctuary in Potter,' McGonagall told him, folding her arms.

Kingsley raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle.

Harry sat down in one of the chairs by McGonagall's desk, feeling incredibly dizzy. 'This is insane. Why does he think I can help him? Or that I'd even want to?'

McGonagall, Kingsley, and Arthur exchanged significant looks, making Harry narrow his eyes. 'What?'

'Well,' said Kingsley.

'You are Harry Potter,' Arthur pointed out.

'Oh, am I?' Harry said sarcastically. 'That would explain all the funny looks I get. What's your point?'

McGonagall took her seat again and gave him a meaningful look. 'Potter, it makes sense—if anyone can help him, it would be you.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'I just don't know what to do about the whole thing. I mean, yeah we were just kids, but he could have come forward before—and he still did what he did, I don't care what his excuses are.'

'Personally, I wouldn't let him off, I don't care what he says,' Kingsley said. 'That little prick is just like his father, and the last thing we need is another Malfoy.'

But when it comes down to it, I'm still the son of a Death Eater.

Harry frowned. 'He says he knows where a Horcrux is.'

Arthur's eyes widened slightly and McGonagall's eyebrows flew up into her witch's cap.

'Now that,' McGonagall said, 'would be worthy of further investigation.'

Harry sighed. Since Hogwarts, he had had no luck in locating any more of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Spending every free moment of his seventh-year researching, digging and scouring, he had only managed to find more hints and clues and was no closer to knowing who R. A. B. was than he was to mastering Occulmency. The Order was so desperate for any trace of a Horcrux that if Malfoy had any information pertaining to them, he was well worth investigating.

'Is it worth trusting him?' Kingsley asked. 'Letting him get close to Harry is a big risk.'

Arthur hesitated, looking at Harry with apprehension.

'I'm not a kid anymore,' Harry snapped. 'I'm not afraid of him.'

'The fact remains it's still a risk,' McGonagall said. 'And if Severus has been helping him… there's plenty of ways around truth serums, and if he's at all skilled in Legilimency—'

'—then he can lie to our faces even under the strongest dose of Veritaserum,' finished Kingsley. 'We'd need another experienced Legilimens to look at him, and last I checked Snape's the best we had.'

'There's another way,' Harry said quietly, but no one seemed to have heard.

'What about Flunscer?' Arthur asked. 'He's no Snape but he might be able to tell if Malfoy's hiding anything.'

Kingsley shook his head. 'Out of the country on Ministry business, he won't be back for a month at least.'

McGonagall was tapping the desk with her wand. 'Dumbledore instructed me with the basics, but if he's learned from Severus directly then I wouldn't be able to tell if he's hiding anything or not, he was too talented—'

Slam.

All three abruptly stopped talking as Harry dropped Dumbledore's old Pensieve down on the desk. 'I said there's another way.'

: : :

Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight?

Why am I trying to see, when there's nothing in sight?

Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try?

Why am I dying to live, if I'm just living to die?

- 2 Pac, Dying to Live

: : :

'So, who's going again?'

Harry looked up—had he been asleep? He had spent the weekend at Grimmauld Place, running the events of the past two days through his mind, trying to make sense of it all. Now Arthur and Lupin were looking at him with concern, and McGonagall was hovering close by, her eyes so narrowed that the frames of her glasses were cutting into her skin.

'Er, what?' he offered.

'Well, you're going, of course,' Arthur said, as if that explained everything. 'But someone should accompany you – and as only two people can go, we need to decide who that will be.'

Now it made sense: he was talking about the trip into Draco's memories. Harry had not put the proposition to Draco himself; Kingsley had laid it by his attorneys, who had passed it on. They couldn't let the Ministry know what they were doing, of course; it was illegal to force someone to reveal their memories, even in court. Though technically, they weren't forcing Malfoy—and if he wanted help, they needed to be sure.

'Professor? What about you?' Harry asked McGonagall, yawning.

'I have no desire to see them,' she replied curtly. Whenever someone brought up Dumbledore or Snape, McGonagall tended to be rather snappier than usual.

'I'll go,' Lupin offered. 'I need to confirm that Malfoy's memory matches up with his story anyway.'

Arthur nodded. 'Right, as soon as they're finished we'll get started then.'

They were all sitting in the drawing room, waiting for Kingsley to return with the Pensieve. He had taken it with him to the Ministry to retrieve the memory, since they could not take Draco out. They did not have to wait long—the Pensieve appeared with a swoosh of air on the table, followed by a note that stated that Draco had complied and deposited the memory they had requested. The four of them stared at the Pensieve apprehensively, as if afraid to investigate further.

'Well,' said Lupin, breaking the silence. 'Let's get this over with.'

Harry stood up, withdrawing his wand and following Lupin to the large stone bowl. The bright, silvery substance inside the basin was moving in ceaseless spirals. In the centre of the spiral, as his wand probed the surface, a small picture was forming—a large room with stone walls that looked unnervingly familiar….

Suddenly he was diving headfirst towards the picture, which seemed to speed up, images flashing before his eyes as he caught glimpses whilst he fell.

He landed and looked around. The place was familiar; the deserted ramparts, the door leading to the spiral staircase, and the Dark Mark glittering above their heads—the Astronomy Tower. Draco Malfoy, four years younger, was standing with his wand pointed at Dumbledore. Harry watched the scene from Malfoy's point of view, his own sixteen-year-old self invisible under the cloak, hiding against the wall. As vividly as he remembered this night, it was much harder to watch it this way, to be in the room again and to know what was coming….

Beside him, Lupin watched, fully absorbed. It suddenly occurred to Harry why; of course, Lupin had never seen this before. All anyone had ever had was Harry's word. As if reading Harry's mind, Lupin spared him a glance. 'Are you okay, Harry?'

'Yes,' he lied.

Harry's blood boiled and he closed his eyes when Snape came into the room—he had no desire to watch the murder again, he had seen it plenty of times in his dreams. When he opened them again they were moving, following Draco as Snape dragged him from the room, down the stairs, out of the castle… they passed bodies on the way, Snape yelling at the other Death Eaters that they were finished, that it was time to go…. Harry saw himself running after Snape, looking more furious then he could ever remembered being, throwing curses and hexes after him. Snape blocked them with ease and pushed Draco ahead, staying back to hold Harry up….

'Go!' he told Draco. 'Go and wait for me!'

Draco kept running. He pulled out his wand and shouted, 'Accio Nimbus!' Seconds later, the black broomstick came flying up behind him and he mounted it at a run, speeding away from Hogwarts. Harry cursed himself for not thinking of that—that night, if he had called his Firebolt, he could have gone after them—stopped them….

Draco was airborne for what seemed like ages. What was going on inside his head, Harry and Lupin could only speculate. Being in the air seemed to have relaxed him however, enough that he no longer looked terrified, just confused. Harry's stomach did a back flip as Draco suddenly went into a steep dive, plummeting almost vertical to the ground, pulling up shortly before he breached the forest below. He looped the same area several times, eyes searching the canopy as if looking for the Snitch. After several long minutes, he seemed to have found what he was looking for, and glided beneath the trees.

Snape had his back to them, facing a small, blue fire he'd created next to a fallen log. He turned slowly to face Draco, and Harry was surprised to see him looking—there was no other word for it—relieved. Draco hopped off the broom and for a fleeting moment, Harry was expecting Snape to hug him. Then the blonde threw his broomstick on the ground and verbally assaulted Snape with a ferocity that shocked Harry.

'What the hell did you do that for?' Draco was screaming, gesturing wildly with his hands, and was almost tall enough to look Snape in the eye. 'I told you I didn't want your help! Now you've—'

Harry winced at the force with which Snape's hand hit Draco, backhanding him harshly across the face and effectively silencing him. Draco staggered backwards, bewildered. Snape loomed over him, emitting the same aura of powerful rage he had in Dumbledore's office. And as that had caused even Greyback to cower from the man, Draco looked rightfully shaken, and he shrank away from Snape like a wounded animal, rubbing his cheek.

'Do not delude yourself, foolish boy!'

Harry was stunned. He had never seen Snape treat Malfoy with anything except tolerance and on many occasions, inimitable favouritism. Draco looked as shocked as Harry felt.

Snape didn't pursue physical abuse, but there was a fire in his eyes Harry had only witnessed once before, when he had been caught snooping in Snape's memories during fifth year. His anger seemed even to surpass what it had been then. He stared long and hard at Draco and then, as if growing exasperated, cursed and turned away. Draco stood up straight and approached him warily, as though frightened that Snape would lash out again.

'All year!' Snape hissed. 'All year long I offer you assistance, all year you push me away—and for what? Because you think I'm trying to steal your glory?' He turned around, effectively stopping Draco in his tracks. 'Let me educate you, Draco; there is nothing glorious about the life you have chosen to follow; only suffering and servitude!'

'I didn't choose anything!' Draco snapped. 'You act like I asked for this—like I wanted this—he was going to kill me— '

'And you chose to live!' said Snape. 'That was your choice, Draco! You do not have to defend the sins of your father, but you must answer for your own!'

'How would you know anything about it? It's not that simple! I'm a Malfoy—'

'Then act like one!'

Draco looked very much as if Snape had slapped him again. He sat down hard on the small log beside the fire, white-blonde head dropping into his hands. Snape regarded him in silence for a long minute before joining him, head bowed low—it suddenly dawned on Harry and Lupin that Draco was talking, and they had to move closer and strain to hear him.

'—turn out like this,' Harry heard Draco saying. His voice was struggling; it sounded as if it was stretching out further and further as he spoke. 'I thought it was what he wanted for me, and if I did it, he'd be forgiven, and then everything would be all right again.'

'Listen to me, Draco. The Dark Lord will ask you to do this again… and again… and I won't be there every time.'

Draco sagged sideways against the older man. 'I don't want to do this.'

'The punishment for failure will be death, you know that.'

'I don't care!' Draco snapped, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs.

'Yes, you do,' Snape said gently. 'There are no more chances, no room for second thoughts with this decision. Be sure it's what you truly want.'

'I want is to live,' Draco said quietly.

Snape paused again, and Harry used the silence to voice an important question to Lupin. 'But Snape's a Death Eater,' he whispered. 'If Malfoy tried to pull out, shouldn't he have killed him?'

'One would think so,' Lupin said quietly.

Then they both fell silent, because at that moment Snape stood up. 'Then we must move quickly. The Dark Lord will be expecting us both; we do not have much time.' Snape reached into his robes and retrieved what looked like a small, leather envelope. He handed it to Draco, who looked up at him quizzically. 'Keep this; do not lose it. When the time comes, use it to find your allies.'

'But who—' Draco started.

Snape silenced him by holding up a hand. 'Upon reaching the Manor you are to follow your father's instructions until he can no longer shelter you. Then use the information sealed inside that letter to seek sanctuary. It will not be easy, but if you wish to live, it is the best option for you.'

Draco nodded weakly and put the letter inside of his robes. 'What about you? Won't he be angry—'

'Do not worry about what happens to me,' Snape said. 'You must promise me that you will not use the information I gave you until the time comes, and you are out of options.'

'But—'

'Swear to me, Draco.'

Draco sighed and nodded. 'I swear.'

'Good.' He Summoned Draco's broom to them with a quick flick of his wand, and handed it to the blonde. 'Are you well enough to Apparate?'

'Yes.' Draco tucked his broom under his arm. 'Where are we going?'

'The Manor,' Snape said, and he then hesitated. 'One more thing,' he added finally. 'When you return, the public will reject you. To them you are, and always will be, another Malfoy—something to be hated and feared in these times. They will hold it against you and use it to discredit you. You must seek help if you intend to be of any use.'

'Help?' Draco said incredulously. 'From who?'

Snape looked down at him with slight concern. 'Very few will be willing, and even fewer will be able to, even if you do manage to win their good graces.'

Draco looked at his feet. Snape put a hand on his shoulder, making him look back up. 'There is someone,' Snape said finally. 'You will not like—'

Snape stopped talking with a sharp hiss, the hand he had on Draco's shoulder moving to pull back the sleeve of his left arm. The Dark Mark blazed red and black on his skin, pulsing as if it was a hot coal.

'We're out of time, he is calling for us,' Snape said urgently. 'Listen carefully. When the time comes, you must go to Potter.'

'Potter?' Draco exclaimed, stepping back and staring at him in disbelief. 'Are you insane? He would kill me before he did anything to help me! There has to be—'

'Nobody else!' Snape seized Draco by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. 'You are in no position to be picky about your allies, Draco! When it is time, you have to go to Potter.'

Draco looked on the verge of panicking while Snape put out the small fire with his wand. 'But—wait—what if I need to contact you? How do I find you?'

Snape put his wand away, and his dark eyes turned to look Draco. 'Don't,' he said.

The forest around them blurred and faded to white, and the memory was over. Several seconds later, Harry was standing back inside the drawing room, breathing very heavily.

Lupin was beside him and rubbing his eyes with his hands. 'Well,' he said, blinking, 'at least now we know why Draco came to you.'

: : :

When a coward is doing something he is ashamed of,

he always declares that it is his duty.

- George Bernard Shaw

: : :

Draco had never been to Level Ten in the Ministry of Magic before, and was therefore very surprised when he was escorted down a dreary staircase into a dungeon-like corridor. The intimidating wizard escorting him had wiry, grey hair took him roughly by the arm and pulled him forward. Draco had a mind to tell him that he could sue for excessive manhandling, but his thoughts were cut short by their arrival at courtroom eight, and he was shoved brusquely inside.

They built this place to make you feel guilty, he thought gloomily, and vividly remembered the basement beneath his father's drawing room floor. The room was vast and incredibly dark, and he could just make out the outline of the Wizengamot by the light of the torches. Draco was dumped unceremoniously in the chair below them, and he recoiled as the chains attached to the chair clinked threateningly.

His attorney was already there, sitting in a straight-backed chair just to his right. On his left, by the edge of the Wizengamot benches, his mother sat beside Lupin, Potter, and Madam Rosmerta, flanked by Arthur Weasley and the Auror that had dragged Draco into the courtroom. He recognised several of the Wizengamot, many of them his father's old Ministry associates, and sitting far to the right was none other than McGonagall. She hasn't changed at all in the last four years, he thought, as she fixed him with her hawk-like stare.

'Thank you, Dawlish,' said the wizard who was seated at the front centre of the court. He looked like a very severe vicar, with high, well-defined cheekbones. He was balding, but what hair he did have was dark grey and looked well-groomed. On his left sat the Minister, and on his right, a young-looking man with large eyebrows and dark brown hair.

'Let us begin,' Scrimgeour said solemnly.

The centremost wizard tapped a long piece of parchment on the bench. 'Reprisal Hearing of the eleventh of July, into offences committed against numerous Ministry Magical Decrees, including but not limited to the performance of Unforgivable Curses, by Draco Abraxas Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.' The full list of charges was harsh; sabotage, infiltration, espionage, terrorism, attempted murder—each of which on their own was worth a life sentence in Azkaban.

'Interrogators: Marius Estelle Constantine, Chief Warlock for the Wizengamot; Fabian Argun, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic; Ignacio Luigi, Undersecretary to the Minister. Court scribe, Cyntheria Amy Enkittle…. Witnesses for the defence: Narcissa Black Malfoy, Rosmerta Esmeralda Rae, Remus John Lupin, Arthur Weasley, and Harry James Potter.' At the mention of Harry's name, numerous whispers arose from the Wizengamot.

Constantine cleared his throat and looked up from the sheet of parchment. 'You are Draco Abraxas Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire?'

'I am,' Draco replied as angelically as he could.

'Do you understand the charges brought against you?'

'Yes.'

'Do you admit to committing the charges as stated, Mr Malfoy?'

As stated. It was times like this one had to love the loopholes provided by jargon. 'No.'

The Wizengamot broke into mutterings again until Constantine cleared his throat once more. He addressed Ricardo this time. 'Will Mr Malfoy be speaking on his own behalf?'

Ricardo looked over, and Draco knew what he was thinking—his lawyer had the philosophy that he who spoke in his own defence condemned himself to conviction, but in this particular case, Draco needed the appeal. He nodded, and Ricardo frowned before answering the question. 'My client will defend himself unless otherwise noted.'

'Very well,' Constantine said, turning his gaze back to Draco. 'What have you to say for yourself, Mr Malfoy?'

Draco explained, very concisely, the truth. He was sixteen. His father was a Death Eater, but he was still his father, which had put him in an unavoidable and compromising situation. That he had done what he had to, because his only other choice was execution, and that he hardly considered it as being 'of his own free will' with that sort of alternative; and as far as he was concerned, the only thing he was guilty of was being used as a puppet by the Dark Lord.

Scrimgeour would have gotten along well with his father, Draco thought miserably, as the Minister didn't seem to think cowardice was an acceptable excuse, and said so.

Ignoring the glare from Ricardo, Draco said, 'Minister, with all due respect, what would you have done?'

'The Ministry has a number of solutions to protect individuals and their families if there is any reason to believe they are in danger. If you had simply come to us—'

'Then I wouldn't be here today to bother you,' Draco supplied for him, 'because I find it very hard to believe that anyone in the Ministry would have granted protection to the son of a Death Eater they had locked in Azkaban.'

Constantine raised his eyebrows, and Fabian leaned over to whisper something in Scrimgeour's ear.

'Regardless, the fact remains that Mr Malfoy indirectly admitted to several of the charges placed against him, whether he committed them willingly or not,' Scrimgeour said loudly, quieting the whispers in the room. 'We will now hear from witnesses for the defence.'

Both Lupin and Arthur had to give a testimony of the night Draco arrived on Lupin's doorstep, although they were careful not to mention the exact place. Arthur did most of the talking, and described in detail all that Draco had told him, and Draco was pleased to find that not only was this particular Weasley completely honest about the entire thing, he even sounded as if he were strongly convinced it was an acceptable excuse.

Next they called Madam Rosmerta who confirmed that indeed, Draco had not put her under the Imperius Curse—that it had, in fact, been Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco didn't add that his aunt had performed the curse for his own benefit. Following her to the stand was his mother, chin held high.

She told them very plainly that his father was, despite the small detail of being a servant of the Dark Lord, a loving husband and father. That he had kept his work with Death Eaters well separated from home, up until the point that he was imprisoned in Azkaban. This, she stated, was when the Dark Lord came to her son with a task, the successful completion of which would redeem his father—or the alternative, execution; and that, for the past four years, they had been in hiding not in fear of the Ministry, but of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Draco was impressed with her performance, though he supposed he should have expected it, as his mother had stood by his father and his crimes for years without losing neutral standing.

Constantine seemed satisfied with her testimony and dismissed her, then called Harry Potter to stand witness.

'If Potter decides to pull out, would it be okay to mention that the whole "arch-nemesis" thing makes him biased?' Draco whispered to his lawyer hopefully. Ricardo said usually, yes, but in this case, no, because this was Harry Potter and the whole world loved Harry Potter and would believe him no matter what.

Typical, Draco thought.

'Mr Potter,' Constantine began, 'we understand that you were in the same year as Mr Malfoy at Hogwarts, is this correct?'

'Yes,' said The Boy Who Could Lie Through His Teeth And Get Away With It.

'And as a result,' the wizard continued, 'we assume you have a good understanding of his character?'

'Very good,' said Potter, with feeling.

'So, in your own words, how would you describe what Mr Malfoy was like while he was at Hogwarts?'

Innocent! Draco thought desperately at Harry's head. Brilliant! Admirable! Honest and loving and full of animal magnetism!

Harry looked over at Draco briefly and then back up at the Wizengamot.

'He was a prat.'

Draco's head dropped into his hands in dismay.

Argun and Constantine raised their eyebrows, and Scrimgeour let out a subtle cough. 'Could you be a little more specific, please?' Constantine pressed.

The Boy Who Meant To Condemn Him sighed. 'He wasn't very nice. Well, not to me anyway.'

Draco briefly entertained the thought that Snape had sent him to Potter as some sick, twisted, very-delayed way of punishing him. He had tried being nice to Harry their first year, but the bastard blew him off for that stupid weasel! Of course he'd been nasty after that!

'As I understand it, Mr Potter, on the night Albus Dumbledore was murdered, you were present to witness; is this correct?'

'Yes.'

'Would you please state for the court what happened that night?'

Taking a slow, hesitant breath, Harry began to explain, sounding like he had repeated these words too many times before: that they had returned to find the Dark Mark over the school, and after reaching the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore had ordered Harry under his Invisibility Cloak before performing a Freezing Charm on him just as Malfoy burst in the room, and how Malfoy had used this second of distraction to disarm Dumbledore. Then Harry said something Draco was sure he had imagined purely from wishful thinking.

Apparently, his wishful thinking had invaded the mind of the interrogator, too. 'I'm sorry, could you repeat that?'

'I said Malfoy wasn't going to kill Dumbledore, sir.'

Draco could have kissed him.

Scrimgeour's eyes were very narrow, and he looked very much like an angry lion when he spoke. 'And how you know this, Potter? As I understand it, you are—excuse me for saying so—rather poor at Legilimency.'

'Because I know Malfoy,' Harry snapped, glaring at the Minister. 'Ask him yourself, he'll tell you the same thing. And even though I couldn't move, I could hear every word they said.'

And then it hit Draco. These two did not like each other very much. What in the hell was Harry's problem, with all of the Ministers hating him? Then again, none of the Ministers liked Dumbledore very much either. Birds of a feather, he presumed.

'They?' Scrimgeour demanded.

'Yes.' Harry looked impatient. 'Dumbledore said he had known all along what Malfoy had been up to, and he didn't stop him because he didn't want to get him or his family hurt.'

The courtroom was very quiet, and Draco wished they would start muttering again.

'And then?' asked Constantine.

'Malfoy lowered his wand,' Harry said simply. 'And then Snape and the other Death Eaters came in.'

Draco's brain was so entirely relieved at this turn of events that he nearly missed what Constantine said next.

'Mr Malfoy, the Wizengamot requests that you present your left forearm to the court.'

'What?' Draco asked, genuinely bewildered by the request.

'Your left forearm,' Constantine repeated. 'Pull back your sleeve, and show it to the Wizengamot.'

Draco thought this was very unfair and had a mind to show them his middle finger instead. He raised his left arm, wrist back, and let the sleeve of his robe drop, displaying flawless skin from wrist to elbow. 'Satisfied?'

He could have sworn both Harry and Lupin exhaled identical breaths, and Scrimgeour frowned at him.

'Thank you,' Constantine said, dismissing Harry. 'Draco Malfoy, the Wizengamot will now request that you willingly submit to a series of questions under Veritaserum. Compliance is highly advised, and your responses may have a direct influence upon our final decision. This is not a mandatory procedure, however, and you may decline.'

Draco looked at Ricardo, who nodded. Standing up, he approached the bench, where the warlock gave a vial to Dawlish, who shoved it at Draco. 'Drink,' he said sharply.

Draco swallowed it easily, and tossed the vial back at Dawlish.

Constantine waited several moments to allow the serum to take effect before beginning. 'Mr Malfoy, I want you to tell the Wizengamot once again if you feel you are guilty of the charges placed against you.'

'No,' Draco said. 'I don't.'

'Are you working as a spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Are you in any way affiliated with any of his supporters? Are you involved in any illegal activities at this point in time?'

'No, no, and no.' Draco was getting very tired of these questions.

'Mr Malfoy, I want you to tell the court if you, on the night Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts School, would have murdered Albus Dumbledore.'

'No, I wouldn't have killed Dumbledore,' Draco said, growing exasperated. 'I didn't want to kill anybody.'

Looking satisfied, Constantine nodded. 'That will be all. Please take your seat, Mr Malfoy.'

Draco took his seat again, making the chains shudder once more.

Constantine called Harry forward again. 'Mr Potter, you have heard the terms of the agreement that Mr Malfoy has made. If the Wizengamot agrees to grant such a settlement, it greatly depends on your concurrence on the matter. Are you in agreement with the terms?'

Only with the briefest moment of hesitation, Harry nodded and said, 'I am.'

Surveying the room, it suddenly occurred to Draco why Lupin had really come to the hearing. He seemed to be hanging off every response Harry made, much like Draco was. It seemed there were alternative forces besides the Malfoy Charm working Potter, and he made a mental note to send Lupin some new robes.

'We will take a moment to weigh our decision,' Constantine announced.

Dawlish cast a Deafening Charm on Draco, preventing him from hearing the discussion of the Wizengamot. It wasn't easy watching the lot of them huddle together, making exaggerated hand movements and in some cases, shouting. McGonagall seemed to have seized Constantine's attention, and was talking quickly and intently to him; Scrimgeour was shaking his head at Argun, casting nasty looks down at Draco; a large group of witches and wizards at the back seemed to have already formed their opinions, for they were talking very little and tapping the bench impatiently. Many of them kept looking down at him, and for that he was very glad because he was putting on the most innocuous expression he could muster.

After what seemed like at least half an hour, Dawlish removed the charm, and Draco rubbed his ears as the noise came back to them.

'All of those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?'

His eyes scanned the Wizengamot—Constantine, Argun, McGonagall and many others had their hands raised. He smirked. It seemed Snape knew what he was talking about after all.

'All of those in favour of conviction?'

Scrimgeour was first with his hand in the air, followed by the Undersecretary and several other members, but they were certainly the minority. Draco let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

'Very well,' Constantine said. 'Cleared of all charges.'

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