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Shots in the Dark	By : squirrelchaser Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1772 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
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Professor
Flitwick, perched precariously atop the thick copies of Introduction to Toadstools and Dispelling
Muggle Prejudices, sat on Draco�s right hand side. Hagrid�s shadow loomed
over him, from his seat a few spaces down at the end. At least they were
consistent since his school days.

Fleur
Delacore, now really Fleur Weasley though Draco strongly preferred her former
surname, sat next to Flitwick as the new potions master. Remus Lupin sat at the
far end opposite Hagrid as a returning Defense Against
the Dark Arts teacher. His hire had been very controversial, but Professor
McGonagall had seen it as an important step toward acceptance of Werewolves in
society.

Sitting
at the staff table at all had taken a great deal of getting used to in its self,
after over coming the initial shock of Professor
McGonagall offering him a teaching position.

�You
can teach the lower level classes, until you passed your N.E.W.T.S and can
handle the upper levels,� she had said briskly. �I need someone to help with my
teaching load; I can�t do it all along with my duties as Headmistress, and I
already have to sort through the mess of finding two other capable bodies for
Potions and Defense by next fall.� She finished with a look on her face that
suggested that there weren�t any such capable, able bodied people in all of England.

Draco
hesitated; he couldn�t help but feel that she was taking pity on him. He didn�t
want pity, or hand outs.

�Or,�
Professor McGonagall continued, �You could stay in Godric�s Hollow, or what
remains of your home in Wiltshire, and mope into your fire whiskey.�

�No
thanks; I prefer something a little stronger.�

�Don�t
be ridiculous!�

Begrudgingly,
Draco had accepted, and came to Hogwarts instead to mope. He didn�t dislike
teaching, but he didn�t particularly like it either.

He
ran one damp fingertip along the edge of his cup until it rang shrilly and
looked at the food on his plate. Steak, he decided, would choke him. That and any other food at the moment.

It
seemed like eons ago when he had been a student, seated at the Slytherin table
between Nott and Goyle, usually across from Pansy Parkinson, and usually
devising some way to make Potter�s existence a little more miserable. But
really, that had only been about a year and a half ago.

From
his view from the staff table, Draco looked out over the four long rows of
students chattering happily over their plates. On either side of him, he could
the murmur of conversation, Flitwick�s shrill analysis
of the effectiveness of a veela hair core in a wand when performing charms, and
on the other side Professor Vector was doing his best to discredit the latest
Daily Prophet headlines:

�Really,
the idea that the Ministry was responsible for You-Know-Who�s defeat is utterly
preposterous-�

It
really was, Draco thought to himself. He had an overwhelming urge to shut his
ears, marveling at how it was possible to feel so alone in such a vast sea of
chattering people.

�Did
you hear about Severus?�

�Terrible happenings. Do you really think-?�

�We�ll
find out tomorrow, won�t we?�

With
an enormous huff, Draco pushed back his chair and rose from the staff table. He
had to get away.

A
group of second years giggled as Draco brushed past them.

�Hi Professor!� One of them called, and the rest giggled,
huddled together and whispering loudly as Draco stalked to his office in the
dungeons.

Draco
still maintained the strong opinion that girls, especially the younger they
were, remained stupid, tittering, twits. The exception was Hermione Granger,
who was now technically Hermione Weasley (Draco much preferred the surname
Granger to Weasley). Granger, in his eyes, was too practical to be a twit, too
know-it-all to be stupid, and to busy proving that she was a know-it-all to
have time to twitter. Draco had developed a marginal amount of respect for her
since their school days, especially now that she was in her first year of
training as a Healer at St. Mungo�s. Especially after all they had gone through
last year.

His
hangover headache had faded around noon, but he could feel another one beginning to
eat away at the edges of his eyes.

It
was all the remembering! At this time, last year, Harry had told him he was
leaving him the cottage in Godric�s Hollow. It was this time when, for the
first time, Harry had pulled out his the photo album of parents� wedding,
clearly one of his most prized possessions.

�They
would have wanted to have met you,� Harry had said.

Draco
wandered over to the familiar liquor cabinet, one hand lingering on the handle
as he told himself he didn�t need it. He looked at the clock.

8:00 pm, November 1^st.

It
was this time, exactly one year ago, when Harry had rose from their nest of
blankets on the floor and looked out the window.

�It�s
time,� he�d said. They�d stared at each other for the longest time, and Draco
knew what was going through both their minds: We can run, we can hide.

But
instead he�d kissed Draco good-bye.

I
don�t need it, Draco said to himself, swinging one of the doors open and taking
down a bottle of gin. But I want it.

In
a few hours it would be exactly a year ago when he�d woken up and Harry Potter
had been dead. In a few hours it would be a year from when he�d steeled
himself, gripping his wand as he stood alone over Harry�s grave, and renewed
his promise.

Draco
sat on the floor in front of the fire, watching the flames lick around the log
in the grate, eyes slowly glassing over from the alcohol.

At
least he didn�t have lessons tomorrow; they were canceled in lieu of his
summons to the Ministry.

The
Ministry building smelled new. The carpets were just a little bit too pristine,
the marble flooring of the lobby was just a little too shiny and a lot too
slick.

Lifting
his rain sodden hood from his head Draco picked his way over to the elevator,
Professor McGonagall trailing in his wake.

�Minerva!�
one of the fellow occupants of the elevator called out, his round cheeks
obscuring his eyes as he grinned broadly. �It�s been awhile since I�ve seen you
in these parts,�

Draco
shrank back against the wall, concentrating hard on the golden, pointy arrow as
it ticked off floors. The air seemed very close all of a sudden.

�Horace,�
Professor McGonagall said stiffly, with a curt nod of her head.

�How
goes it at dear old Hogwarts? Pity I couldn�t return; age catching up you
know��

�Pity
indeed,� Professor McGonagall replied.

�But
there�s just so much to be done at the Ministry,� Horace Slughorn continued
cheerfully from beneath his great mustache. �We�ve just finished rebuilding
from the War you know; best of everything � spared no expense.�

�You
don�t say,�

�I�d
rallied to have benches put in these confounded elevators. They get so crowded
and busy and a body sometimes must take a load off � ah! Here we are!�

The
elevator doors opened to reveal a waiting area with fat, overstuffed arm chairs.

�This
is my stop!� Slughorn gave a wave. �Good day, Minerva!�

Professor
McGonagall gave a nod as the elevator doors slid shut again, and the two were
silent as the elevator finally came to a stop, delivering them into the bowels
of the Ministry of Magic.

The
walls were smooth stone, lit dimly with torches that flickered and danced, as
if they were not sure they really wanted to keep on burning.

Draco
filed into the room at the very end of the hall, walking past the chair with
chains laced around the arms and legs. Before and to either side of the chair
the floor of the room rose up on a slant, with benches in tiers up to where the
floor met the curving stone ceiling.

The
room began to fill slowly, voices mingling into a gentle buzz that hovered over
the crowd.

Draco
continued to sit in silence, until a door opposite the one he and Professor
McGonagall had come in swung open and the room went silent.

Two
dementors glided in on either side of Severus Snape, their clammy, rotting
hands clutching at his arms. The trio reached the chair and Snape shook the
Dementors off, dropping into the chair with ill grace. The chains glowed and
slithered over his wrists and ankles. Snape was trapped.

His
face was thinner and his skin had taken a grayish tinge but his eyes were still
as bright and hard as ever. He searched the crowd, and seeing Draco one lip
turned up in an almost imperceptible sneer.

�Severus
Snape,�

A
tall red haired figure with horn rimmed glass stood from his seat in the first
row, before the chair.

A
Weasley, Draco thought at once. The know-it-all
Weasley�Percy?

�You
are on trial for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, and
for suspicion of acting in legion with You-Know-Who,� Percy Weasley said
crisply, shuffling the papers before him importantly. �A crime which you do not
contest, is that right?�

Snape
squared his shoulders, eyes impassive. �The first crime, no,
the second, yes.�

Beside
Draco, Professor McGonagall was pale. �We never got on well, but he�s going to
get life in Azkaban,� she whispered hoarsely. �There�s not a jury that wouldn�t
convict him.�

�Good,�
spat Draco. �It�s more than he ever deserves.�

�There
have been reports that you were acting in accordance with Dumbledore himself,
that you �� Percy�s tone turned dubious, almost
mocking. �Were acting according to his wishes?�

�That
is correct,� Snape said coolly.

Percy
Weasley raised his eyebrows. �You mean to say that Albus Dumbledore wished himself to be murdered by you?�

�Albus
Dumbledore desired the protection of his students more than any thing else,�
Snape said as the room broke into murmurs. �In this case he felt it necessary
to protect a student.�

�And
this student would be?� Percy Weasley prodded,
skepticism evident on his face.

�Draco
Malfoy.�

The
room broke into murmurs again, and the hair on the back of Draco�s neck
prickled as he felt several pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.

�And
how did murdering Albus Dumbledore serve to protect Draco Malfoy?�

�As
a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy had been given the tall order of murdering Dumbledore
himself.�

There
were a number of astonished gasps from the crowd, and Draco had the strong urge
to slide beneath the bench he was sitting on.

�I
fail to see how your doing the deed would serve to help Draco Malfoy,� Percy
was disdainful.

�Voldemort
was not known for his benevolence and mercy,� Snape said icily, as if he could
not fathom why he would have to explain such matters. �Dumbledore hoped that
his death would appease Voldemort enough to let Malfoy and his family stay alive. He knew that Draco wouldn�t be able to do
it, and so he ordered me to see the deed through.�

�And
was Draco Malfoy unable-�

�Obviously,�
Snape cut him off with a sneer, �It is I who is on trial and not Draco, is it not?�

Percy
flushed red. �There is no evidence that there was any sort of agreement between
you and Albus Dumbledore-�

�Weasley,�
Professor McGonagall bolted up, holding a tiny glass bottle filled with pearly,
swirling mist. �I have evidence from Professor Dumbledore himself, a memory
from his Pensieve-�

�You
will notice, Minerva,� Percy snapped and Draco saw Professor McGonagall flush
with annoyance. �That Wizarding Rules and Regulations explicitly states that
memories from a pensive presented in a trial are considered insubstantial
evidence due to the ease at which they can be fabricated.�

�Weasley,
you�re making a mistake!�

�Unless
you have any credible evidence to offer the jury, I shall have to ask you to
sit down, Minerva McGonagall, or I shall have you removed from these
proceedings!�

Professor
McGonagall glared at Percy before sinking slowly to the bench. �He�s telling
the truth,� Professor McGonagall seethed, glancing sharply at Draco.
�Dumbledore left me the memory of their agreement in the Pensieve, but that
won�t matter to the Ministry.�

The
idea that Snape had willingly given up his freedom and reputation � tarnished
though it may be � for him made Draco feel ill inside.

Percy
tried another approach. �Is there any tangible evidence that Draco Malfoy was
indeed an active Death Eater, and would therefore be commissioned for such an
act in the first place?�

There
was dead stillness and entire room seemed to turn and stare at Draco.

�Go
on,� hissed Professor McGonagall. �It�s not you who�s on trial after all, and
if they try they won�t get very far given where you are now.�

Draco
stood, opening and closing his mouth several times meaning to shatter the
waiting silence with, �I was a Death Eater, but I couldn�t kill Albus
Dumbledore,� but the words just seemed to refuse to surface.

�Well?�
barked Percy.

From
his place in the center of the room, Snape made eye contact with Draco and gave
the slightest, most imperceptible shake of his head.

Lifting
his sleeve, Draco held his left arm up before the jurors� eyes.

�No
Dark Mark,� Percy said with a hint of satisfaction. He looked back at Snape.

Draco
returned to his seat, rubbing his arm. He could still feel the hardened flesh,
the scar tissue, from where Voldemort had burned his brand into his skin, but
after Voldemort had been killed the black faded until there was nothing left to
see.

Snape
had been his professor, his mentor, the head of his
house. Dumbledore had vouched for Snape, Draco�s
father himself said that Snape was a traitor to the Dark Lord. Yet Draco
couldn�t forget the finality in Snape�s voice and the look on his face when he
uttered the two final words that had sent Dumbledore plummeting from the top of
the tower�

Dumbledore
couldn�t have told Snape to kill him.
He couldn�t have; who would have done that? Snape had to be lying�he had
to�Draco pondered over and over as Percy deliberated, growing smugger and
smugger with each answer.

Suddenly
Draco was aware of Percy was saying, �All those in favor of life imprisonment
for the murder of Albus Dumbledore with malicious intent shall raise their
hands.�

Every
member of the jury�s hand was lifted into the air.

Professor
McGonagall let out a long, angry hiss, like a cat.

�Very
well,� Percy shuffled the papers before him noisily, and there was a collective
shudder as two Dementors returned to the room to seize Snape by either arm.

Snape
looked neither defeated nor upset at news of his conviction. His eyes glittered
as they lingered on Draco, and Draco was glad when he was led away out of
sight.

Professor
McGonagall was visibly agitated as she left the Ministry of Magic. �Of all the insolent-!� Her cheeks were blotchy pink. �I�m
going to have a word with his mother about�!� Her voice trailed off and Draco
was startled to see that there were tears in here eyes.

�You�you
believe him?� Draco said softly.

�I
believe Dumbledore,� Professor McGonagall said. �It is something he would have
done for you, for any of his pupils. I never would have thought Severus�!�
Taking out a tartan edge handkerchief she blew her nose and said thickly, �Do
you realize what has just happened, Draco?�

Draco�s
head felt thick, as if his brain were made of sponge.

�Severus
went to Azkaban so you could live free.�

Once
back at Hogwarts, Draco shut and locked his office door, darted to the
bathroom, and threw up.

Crossing
the room to a cabinet, he opened it and pulled down a black, worn leather photo
album. Draco stood before the cabinet, paging slowly through the pictures, the
figures inside waving at him cheerfully.

Draco
had never met most of the people in the pictures. James and Lily Potter had
been dead before he could really talk, and the social circles of the first
Order of the Phoenix and his parents� had been widely different.
Yet Draco was still intimately connected to them. He turned to the last page, and a photo that had not been bound fluttered to the
floor.

He
stooped to retrieve it, looking at it long and hard and smoothing the tip of
his index finger over the surface.

In
the picture, the dark haired figure with glasses cocked his head, smiling
contentedly as the pale, white haired boy leaned against him and closed his
eyes, head fitting into the curve of his neck. The two put their arms around
each other.

Draco
carefully placed the photo back into the album, placed the album back on the
shelf, and closed the cabinet door.

TBC
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- 4
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Shots in the Dark