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A More Worldly Man	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10960 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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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Chapter Twenty-One—Truth and Falsehood

            Watching the faces of the members of the Wizengamot made up for his own humiliating confession earlier, if only a little. Draco watched as person after person turned pale and shoved the Pensieve away when they’d finished looking at the memories of Diggory’s attack, as though merely having witnessed the recording would taint them. After looking at it, they avoided all eye contact with Diggory.

            They could have done that earlier, and it might actually have had some effect, Draco thought, looking at Diggory, because he often let his eyes rest on things no one else wanted to confront. The man had a permanent pallor to his face now that he seemed unable to shed, but he still turned his head with slow movements and watched everyone with bright, bored eyes, as if he had all the time in the world. He won’t admit defeat, and that could convince a few people he’s still in the right and they should follow him.

            Draco would not allow that to happen. If he had been forced to face his point of greatest weakness in the company of these people, with only the comfort of Harry’s grip on his hand, then Diggory should be forced to do the same.

            “Sirs and madams,” he said, when the Pensieve had reached Shacklebolt again and been passed with all due ceremony down to Granger, “you have seen Diggory’s nearly ungovernable enmity towards myself, simply because I had the courage to defy him, and because I was attached to Harry Potter, who also defied him. He tried to bribe me with a position in the Ministry. He spoke words that can easily be taken as threats to our sitting Minister. And then he attacked me with the guards that he could hardly have needed, if he were simply going out in public. He brought those guards to the shop with the intention of using them against me. Why? What on earth could I have done that would make him fear me so much? I am not politically connected. My name is rather more one in disgrace than otherwise. The Desire potion was a neutral factor introduced into play after Diggory had made his first overture to Harry, not before. Why was he so determined to stop me from brewing?”

            “That is a reasonable question,” said the woman with a voice like the peacock Patronus’s. “The attack I have just seen has shaken me, and inspired me with curiosity as to the source of Mr. Diggory’s loathing.”

            Draco concealed a smirk. If Diggory’s allies could use specious words to make themselves sound more emotionally affected than they really were, surely their own friends could do the same thing.

            “I am afraid that my arguments are too complex—“ Diggory began, sounding apologetic.

            “You have most of the finest political minds in wizarding Britain in the same room with you, sir,” Shacklebolt interrupted, the polite title full of venom. “If we cannot understand your arguments, then there is no one on this island who can.”

            Draco concealed a snort; it wouldn’t do to reveal what he thought of those “finest minds” too openly. But Diggory merely gave them all a polite bow and the same bright look as before.

            “Some of my arguments involve closely guarded details of my campaign strategy,” he said. “I think you’ll understand my reluctance to reveal them in front of my opponent.” He was looking directly at Shacklebolt now, with an expression of eloquent sorrow on his face, as though he regretted they should ever have been enemies. “They can have nothing directly to do with the crime under discussion, in any case. You seem to be on the brink of deciding that Mr. Potter has no magical creature blood after all, and that the charges were brought wrongly. If such is the case, I am content, and will not press such charges. But this is not a trial for me.”

            Draco snarled under his breath. He understood why Diggory refused to look disheartened now. He might have to give up his fight against Harry, Draco, and the Desire potion, but he still had what he really wanted: a shot at the Minister’s office. If word of his conduct here today didn’t escape the courtroom—and the Wizengamot didn’t, in general, discuss the details of such cases in closed trials—then the worst anyone would ever know was that he’d suffered a legal defeat. He could endure that and come out the other side with his reputation still whole, even strengthened by the impression that he wasn’t afraid to prosecute Britain’s greatest hero if the safety of Britain seemed to require it.

            “He’s right,” said the witch with a face like an apple who was one of Diggory’s decided allies. Draco thought that the other witch had called her Eleanor Williams. “He cannot be tried for any crime, as he did not succeed in hurting Mr. Malfoy, and this is not his trial. To question him now is inappropriate.”

            “I don’t find it inappropriate to ask why a man running for Minister would resort to bribery, threats, and physical force,” said Shacklebolt. “Understand, I do not take the threats against myself very seriously.” Diggory lifted his face then, and Draco thought he saw the impression of harsh hatred carved on it. Shacklebolt went on with a faint smile. He’d probably only wanted a reaction from Diggory to his pronouncement, any reaction. “But I would be interested in the answer to the question nonetheless.”

            Diggory appeared to be having a leisurely debate within himself as to whether he should answer. Draco concealed another snarl. They would not put him under Veritaserum, of course. He was going to recover from what Draco had hoped would be his ultimate fall. Just when it should have been overwhelming, the worst effects from his obsession with condemning Harry and Draco had been turned aside. He—

            Harry squeezed his hand. Draco looked down at him in surprise, thinking he might, himself, have been squeezing Harry’s wrist too hard. But Harry shook his head and grinned at him narrowly, and then tilted his head as if he wanted Draco to scratch the back of his neck.

            A brilliant gleam shone just under his hair, as if he were wearing jewelry from an admirer. Draco concealed his jealousy, and leaned over to look. The gleam turned, and he realized it was a beetle crouching there.

            A beetle with spectacle markings around the antennae, a beetle he had once cupped in his hands and whispered secrets to.

            Savage joy nearly lifted Draco from his feet. He squeezed Harry’s hand in response and motioned for him to lean his head back, so there was no chance of anyone catching a glimpse of Skeeter. He smiled at Diggory, trying to give the impression that the smile hid anger. It didn’t matter if the bastard got away with denying their accusations inside the courtroom. He would fall, and the tumble might be the more devastating for his believing, for a day, he’d got away with everything.

            But Draco had forgotten there was another person in the courtroom with them, one who didn’t know of Skeeter’s presence and who didn’t have Shacklebolt’s sense of fairness and restored confidence in his own political prowess. Someone who might not have been content to wait even if she had known all those things.

            Granger’s wand moved in a tiny motion, up and down, then out to both sides. Her lips didn’t release any words, but her eyes burned with the force of will Draco was accustomed to seeing applied to nonverbal magic. She had twisted her lips into a bitter grimace as if to keep from biting on them. Any stranger looking at her would probably think she beheld Diggory’s escape and couldn’t make her peace with it.

            A wiser one would have recognized that expression from when she stood above the helpless Theodore Nott and spoke of downing him with a unique curse.

            And Draco revised his assumptions again. Of course, if we can destroy Diggory going and coming, that will be even better.

*

            Harry looked straight at Diggory after he showed Skeeter’s presence to Draco, and never looked away. He really didn’t care if the man spun some pretty story to account for his enmity now that the Wizengamot would have to accept. He didn’t care if Diggory managed to speak without Veritaserum, though he knew Draco might feel differently. They would win in the end. Skeeter would tear Diggory to pieces without lifting a hand against him.

            There was a sublime elegance about that solution. Harry wondered idly if various Slytherins of his acquaintance would approve of it.

            Thus he saw the sudden, odd change in the man’s face. He put a hand up to his brow and swallowed once, as though he had a headache. When he dropped the hand, he was flushed and beginning to sweat.

            “Need we call off this confession on account of illness?” Williams offered at once.

            “I agree,” said Prunella. “Mr. Diggory is looking rather ill. Perhaps we should convene at a later time—or Mr. Diggory can explain in private to Minister Shacklebolt, since his words appear to concern him alone.”

            “I’m fine,” Diggory said in a loud, hoarse voice, and took a step forwards. Harry was reminded forcibly of how Cedric had looked when he heard about the First Task being dragons. Diggory had the same fixed stare and slapped expression. “I have much to say, and now may be the only chance I have to say it.”

            “Then, by all means, speak,” said Kingsley. He sounded doubtful. Harry gave him a curious glance, wondering if he knew what had happened to Diggory, but Kingsley caught his eye and shook his head minutely.

            Diggory swung towards Harry. Harry blinked in surprise when he suddenly lifted an arm and pointed his finger straight at him. This was definitely uncharacteristic behavior. He felt the light tickle as Skeeter edged out from under his hair to see, and Draco’s hand tightened on his shoulder as if he thought to haul Harry out of danger.

            “No matter what you wish to accomplish in the politics of wizarding Britain,” Diggory snarled, his voice sounding as if it were dragged out of his throat on fishhooks, “you can’t do it without reference to the name of Harry Potter. The first thing everyone began asking me when I decided to run for Minister was if I had your support. It was known you were close friends with Shacklebolt, and that’s already been enough to keep him in office through one election. You would not believe how many cowards I met who were unwilling to support me because they thought you’d only need to appear in public at one Ministry function and all the votes would swing to Shacklebolt in any case.” He laughed, a noise like a mouse skittering across glass.

            From the way Prunella and Williams flushed, Harry thought he could reckon who some of the “cowards” were.

            “And so I studied him, and then tried to court him.” Diggory came another step closer to Harry. This time, Draco definitely tensed as if he would step between them, but didn’t, to Harry’s gratitude. He was fascinated, and wanted the strange confession to play out to its end. “That was a mistake. It was only too obvious that he wasn’t used to being courted. He’d show up in public for one day when his friends wanted him to, and that was the extent of his experience. Everyone told me that he remained in reserve like a powerful weapon. But that’s not true! He remains in reserve because he has no ambition, no desire, no reason to be a public man.” He sneered. “The Harry Potter I met was different from the one my friends had portrayed to me with such fear. I would have done better to give up then and there.”

            “Yes,” Draco whispered so that his words just stirred Harry’s hair, “he would have.”

            “But he was so naïve. He actually thought I would go away when he didn’t surrender to my first plea! I believed I might be able to mold him, carve him, bear him along in the current. If he really didn’t know anything about politics, he wouldn’t recognize the ends to which I was trying to bend him, either.”

            Prunella and Williams shuffled their chairs discreetly away from the railing of the gallery.

            “I continued to think that, even when I had evidence otherwise,” Diggory continued, voice so full of spite that Harry was surprised it didn’t cling to his lips in brown flecks. “And there were other reasons to court him, namely the temptation represented by his Muggleborn friend, widely accounted clever and a war heroine. If she would serve my campaign, I would have broad appeal on both sides of the blood divide. When I found out Draco Malfoy was working with Potter to produce a potion that could affect the desires and personalities of the drinkers, I thought my life complete. Only make them come to my side, and I would win the election easily.

            “But they showed no inclination to attend me.” Diggory spat on the floor of the courtroom. A silence that sounded like that right before a clap of thunder descended over the Wizengamot. Harry thought later that might have been the very point when Diggory tilted too far and lost any chance of recovering from his fall. “And then I began to realize what a potent combination they might be if they, annoyed at me, threw all their weight behind the re-election of Shacklebolt. I could not let that happen. I had to destroy them if at all possible.

            “And yet, no matter what I did, they stood up under it and returned. Like bloody cockroaches.” Harry felt Skeeter stir on the back of his neck, and wondered if Diggory would be castigated for using “insulting language” in the article she would write tomorrow. “I grew more and more determined to destroy them, because their very tenacity would make them more dangerous to me and more helpful to Shacklebolt. Some of the words Potter spoke even made me think he might be running for Minister himself. Of course the mind-altering potion they produced would be helpful in that.”

            “I never desired to be Minister,” Harry said, startled into speech. “And the Desire potion works by the wishes of those who drink it. I can’t control what happens when they swallow it, and nor can Draco. We can’t even sense if they’ve drunk it—“

            “It’s what anyone would do, Potter,” Diggory cut him off impatiently, and then laughed. “Of course, I forgot how politically ignorant you are. Advantages that anyone else would use, you allow to pass you by, because you can’t comprehend the good of them.

            “Well, I can! And it became more and more evident that I couldn’t allow this potentially powerful combination of political forces to exist, not when it could be used against me.

            “Do you wonder why I was so determined to destroy you, Potter? Because you could have changed the balance of the election simply by sitting at home. Sympathy was growing for you when you began to distribute the Desire potion. People thought you were doing a good deed. Some of them talked of voting for you even if you wouldn’t run in the election. I’ve never had that kind of popular support. My appeal is to the more erudite.”

            His voice grew so bitter on the last word that Harry could no longer doubt what drove him. “Jealous?” he breathed. “You were jealous of me?”

            “Of what you have without being conscious of it,” Diggory snapped at him, leaning far enough towards him that Harry felt spittle fleck his face. Skeeter scurried around the other side of his head to be out of range. “Of the power that you command without making a motion. Of the fame that was piled on you—“

            “I never asked for it!” Harry snapped. “And I’ve tried to explain that my mother deserves the credit for her sacrifice that protected me from the Killing Curse, but—“

            “That makes it worse!” Diggory roared, and Harry had never known he had veins in the side of his head that could stand out so far. “It makes it worse that you didn’t want it, never worked for it, and would hide modestly away in your flat for the rest of your life rather than face it! You don’t have the power to give it away, and it clings to you like a shining halo! Everyone will be dealing with the legacy of your actions long after you’re dead, and your name will be in the history books, and they’ll name buildings after you, and claim that Harry Potter visited a certain place on such and such a date, and—“ He was shaking, his jaw clenched, his hands opening and closing as if he wanted to torture Harry but didn’t know whether to go for his shirt or his throat first.

            “You’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered. “To leave an indelible mark on the world. To do it so young, and without the help of your parents. To be able to say honestly that you’ve never taken presents from anyone to serve their ends. You have what I want, and I can’t have it, and I hate you.”

            Harry leaned back in his chair, staring. If he’d had the presence of mind to do so, he might have laughed, really. Diggory sounded like an overgrown schoolboy version of Draco, who had craved what Harry had—though in his case it was because his parents had impressed him with that deep pride and steadfast belief in himself, and he was half-crazed to find that Harry challenged his beliefs so easily.

            On the other hand, he couldn’t laugh when this man had nearly taken away his freedom, nearly destroyed Draco’s business, and contributed to attacks on Draco’s sanity and life. Level-voiced, Harry said, “Listen to yourself, Diggory. Does one thing you’re saying sound like an excuse?”

            “It’s not an excuse,” Diggory snapped back. “What excuse can there be for an obsession, especially in politics? And when I started losing, that only made it grow worse. I hated Desire without ever having tasted it, because you brewed it. I hated Draco Malfoy because your effortless and incredible luck touched him as well.” His eyes flickered at Draco in a way that made Harry’s hand long to reach for the wand that wasn’t there. “I hated Granger because you gave her the kind of support that I could have used in my campaign And I hated Shacklebolt the worse because I knew you would act for him without thought. How could you do that?” he demanded suddenly, widening his eyes at Harry and giving him a look that was almost plaintive. “You haven’t seen how much of a coward your friend has become in the past few years—how he’s almost run the wizarding world into the ground—“

            “I didn’t really notice,” Harry said coolly. “As you put it yourself so eloquently, I’ve lived rather retired from politics.”

            “But you could have supported me, and not him,” Diggory said. “You would have, if you knew what you were doing. If you had any concern for the future of the wizarding world as it is now, and not the way you think it should be just because he’s your friend.”

            Harry raised an eyebrow. “You never explained it to me. You never approached me like this, with legitimate concerns about Shacklebolt’s Ministry. You tried to court me, and even when you saw that it didn’t work, you couldn’t give it up.”

            “It’s the way politics is played,” Diggory said, with vast weariness. “It’s the way things have to work. The way I was trained in, and the only way I can play it without going back to the beginning and learning all over again.”

            “You sound quite self-aware now,” Harry couldn’t resist telling him. “What’s changed? Did you finally realize you weren’t going to win anyway, so you decided to confess?”

            And Diggory’s face changed back.

            He staggered away from Harry, one hand over his mouth, as though he were about to vomit. Then he turned and scanned the gallery frantically. He was looking for friends, Harry thought, but all he found were carefully averted eyes.

            Harry had no doubt then that his confession had been the result of magic. He’d once heard of a spell that would remove the inhibitions a wizard might experience and cause him to pour forth his frustrations and difficulties to the person he most wanted to hear about them—until that person pointed out he was doing so. It wasn’t as good as a truth potion like Veritaserum, but very nearly as good.

            His eyes narrowed suddenly. Hermione had been the one to tell him about that spell. If she hadn’t actually invented it.

            He would have turned to look at her, but Diggory was saying in a strong, carrying voice, “Minister, I would beg to be excused everything I have said in the last ten minutes. I was not myself, and if you check me and the other wands in the room, I’m sure you’ll find the lingering presence of hostile magic.”

            Harry waited in silent tension as Shacklebolt obliged him, casting Prior Incantato on the wands of the Wizengamot, and then having Firstfruits do it to his wand. That done, he came to the floor and tested Hermione’s and Draco’s wands. Both of them showed the same results: the Summoning Charm, used to keep the heavy Pensieve from slipping.

            Hermione, of course, would have had the chance to cast that spell to cover the results of whatever incantation she’d used on Diggory. Everyone had been staring, or trying not to stare, at Diggory; no one had been paying attention to her.

            Harry narrowed his eyes at her the moment he got the chance. She returned an innocent look. Harry half-growled under his breath. He supposed it was his fault for not showing Skeeter to her, and since this was not Diggory’s trial, the confession could have no legal consequences for him. It would only have social ones.

            Hermione slipped him a quick wink and smile, then went absolutely blank again as Diggory suddenly shouted, “It was Potter and his wandless magic! It must have been.”

*

            Draco was tired of this.

            Diggory, from what he understood, had made some ridiculous claims about incubus blood in Harry’s family. He had also made that confession, but Draco had found most of it tedious. The vices of small minds always were. He deserved more than Granger’s spell for what he had done. On the other hand, the public embarrassment in the newspapers tomorrow might be enough revenge.

            “Minister,” he said impatiently, “from what I understand Diggory has claimed, Harry is able to use his wandless magic because of incubus blood. But are there implements of lust here? Was Harry enraged? The answer to both questions is no. What will he claim now, his new truth or his old one?”

            Diggory stared at him, teeth and eyes aglitter with hatred. Draco looked back, unimpressed. We’ve drawn your real fangs, old lion, and we drew the first when Harry and Hermione got rid of Cordelia Nott.

            “Mr. Diggory?” Shacklebolt asked politely.

            Diggory said nothing, but turned away.

            Shacklebolt faced the Wizengamot and called for a vote. Numerous hands rose to claim Harry as not guilty. Standing so close, Draco felt Harry slump briefly to the side and then straighten with a grim smile on his face.

            Draco snatched him out of the chair and kissed him. Harry wrapped his arms around him in response and moaned freely, letting Draco know what was going to happen as soon as they got back to Harry’s flat.

            Diggory said something about lust being in the air now, but no one paid attention.

*

            Dezram: Well, Diggory does explain his motivations here. They still aren’t sufficiently good to excuse anything he’s done, of course.

            Christabell: Hee! Glad you feel that way about the “team.”

            Mangacat: Most of Diggory’s enmity came from the off-stage appeals of others, and politics that neither Draco nor Harry saw.

            Purple-er, thrnbrooke, SP777: Thanks for reviewing!

            Dragons Breath: The absolute last nail will probably come from Rita.

            Yume111: Draco’s feelings are so overwhelming to him that they’re changing his behavior—and that does include making him put Harry first.

            Hermione is laughing to disconcert Diggory.

            Lucius, I think, believes that most emotions such as love are weaknesses because they might cause you to abandon your pride or change your beliefs. And that would never do.

            One of the Aurors let the knowledge about Ginny slip. This is revealed later.

            I’m not sure what will happen to Willowberry.

            nomdeplume: Thank you! I think Draco’s confession was also made under horrible circumstances as well, and I felt for him for having to go through it.

            Diggory was using the incubus theory to try and panic other people.
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A More Worldly Man