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Let Me Be Your Voice	By : Queenie_Mab Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8661 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter, created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers: Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended

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“Draco Abraxas Malfoy,” Dawlish’s voice echoed through the dark courtroom, whistling slightly, making the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. “After careful deliberation following the testimony of Harry James Potter,” he read from a scroll which rested on the table before him, “the Wizengamot has agreed to uphold the last wishes of Albus Dumbledore and to see that you are given a second chance at becoming a qualified member of our wizarding society. You will be released into your mother’s care for the duration of the summer under the supervision of Dark Detectors placed upon your residence by the Ministry of Magic. You will be expected to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, equipped with a limited-use, Ministry-issued wand to re-take your final year of your magical education and to sit your NEWTs. After one year has passed, the Wizengamot will reconvene to make a final judgement as to your freedom.”

Dawlish pushed the scroll to the side, apparently not personally satisfied with the court’s decision. He furrowed his bushy grey eyebrows and looked at Malfoy down his long nose. “I think you must realise that you have been granted a great deal of leniency, Mr. Malfoy. I advise you to thank the Wizengamot for their generosity, and to prove yourself worthy of their grace. This is your only chance, and you must not mess it up.”

Malfoy stared coolly back into Dawlish’s eyes, his own face an unreadable mask. He gave a firm nod, and turned to the rows of benches where what was left of the Wizengamot sat looking down at him. He nodded towards them as well, and that was the extent of his response.

Harry wondered what was going through Malfoy’s head right then. Why wasn’t he speaking? He knew Malfoy had the ability to appeal to people with social grace, but the prat wasn’t even pretending at remorse or trying to suck up at all. It boggled Harry’s mind.

He watched as Malfoy returned to focusing on his knees, and then noticed Kingsley taking Dawlish’s gavel away from him out of the corner of his eye. Kingsley appeared to be livid at Dawlish’s impromptu advice.

“Let this signify the end of these court proceedings until one year’s time,” Kingsley’s deep voice rumbled through the room, reverberating off the stone walls. He brought the gavel down with a sharp crack against the wood, and the members of the Wizengamot rose, talking animatedly amongst themselves as they shuffled out of the room.

Narcissa Malfoy had been allowed to attend Draco’s sentencing. She sat, flanked on either side by a Ministry watch-wizard. The instant the gavel came down, she stood up, her tall figure glowing in her graceful pale blue robes illuminated by the torches.

Harry felt Mr. Weasley squeeze his shoulder from behind and got to his feet, finally tearing his eyes away from the centre platform. He looked up into Mr. Weasley’s smiling face.

“There you have it, Harry,” he said, giving Harry’s shoulder another squeeze. “You are affecting change already and I want you to know I am proud of you. Your parents would be very proud of you.”

Harry got to his feet, aware of the stiffness in his joints from sitting in tension for too long a period. “Thanks, Mr. Weasley,” he said.

“I think it would be prudent for you to give Mrs. Malfoy the opportunity to express her gratitude,” Mr. Weasley suggested. “I’ll wait for you in the hall outside, shall I?”

Harry agreed, though all he really wanted was to leave so he could gather his things at the Burrow and make the move to Grimmauld Place.

He approached the platform, where Narcissa Malfoy watched an Auror release Malfoy from his chair. She looked at Harry as he drew near.

Her expression was hidden behind the aristocratic poise she always displayed in public, though Harry could see the thankfulness in her eyes.

“Mr. Potter,” she addressed him, extending a graceful hand.

Harry took it, rather unsure whether he was expected to kiss it or shake it, but she spared him the confusion by gripping his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

“I want to thank you for your kindness in speaking up on mine and my son’s behalf. We wouldn’t have the liberties we do if it wasn’t for your testimony. I am eternally grateful.”

She released his hand, and pulled Malfoy to stand beside her. “Draco,” she said to her son. “Please show Mr. Potter your thanks.”

Malfoy’s eyes appeared tired, their grey colour subdued by the dark circles underlining them. He held himself stiffly, still proud as he extended a hand to Harry.

Harry looked at it, and hesitated, wondering if Malfoy felt the same significance in the gesture as he did. He took Malfoy’s hand and shook, feeling Malfoy’s cool dry palm against his own send a sensation of rightness flooding through his system, though Malfoy’s ring was so cold, it made Harry shiver. He felt like perhaps they were rewriting history and this was their starting point.

He saw Malfoy’s eyes widen a fraction of a second, before he released Harry’s hand.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you at school,” Harry said, feeling out of place before the haughty figures of the Malfoys.

Malfoy acknowledged him with a quick nod, and then allowed his mother and the watch-wizards to lead him out of the courtroom.

~x~

Walking side by side with Mr. Weasley through the city streets of Muggle London, Harry’s thoughts were occupied with how he was going to tell the Weasleys that he would be leaving.

Mr. Weasley kept darting nervous glances at him, making him think the silence that hung between them was making Mr. Weasley uncomfortable.

“Ah,” Mr. Weasley said at last. “The Leaky Cauldron is right up ahead. I thought we’d stop and pick up George before we apparate home. Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said absently.

“Harry, I’m no Albus Dumbledore, but even I can see that something is troubling you. Would you care to talk about it? We could grab a butterbeer or something and have a chat.”

Harry looked up from watching his feet mindlessly moving forwards on the pavement. Mr. Weasley waited for his answer expectantly.

“Yeah,” he said, deciding that this might be his best opportunity to share his plans. And it would be easier if he didn’t have to do it in front of the entire family, fighting off their protests. “I could do with a drink.”

They made their way into the dingy pub and took a seat at a table by the window. Once they had their drinks in hand, Mr. Weasley gave Harry a smile and a wink.

“You look like you could use some cheering up, and I think I have just the thing,” Mr. Weasley said, suddenly boisterous. “I had planned to let you find out with the rest of the family at dinner tonight, but I can’t keep it a secret any longer.”

Harry’s interest was piqued. “What is it?” he asked, feeling warmed by the excitement rolling off Mr. Weasley.

“Molly is going to be receiving an Order of Merlin, First Class,” Mr. Weasley said proudly. “For her defeat of Bellatrix Lestrange during the battle. You know as well as I do that if anybody deserves a bit of recognition, my wife is at the top of the list.”

Harry smiled despite his melancholy. “That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Really brilliant! It’s about time the Ministry put itself to doing some good.”

Mr. Weasley nodded, still beaming. “Yes, I have to agree. With Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge I expect to see great changes begin to happen for everyone.”

Harry took a sip from his butterbeer and decided that it was now or never. He set the bottle on the table and met Mr. Weasley’s eyes. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, watching as Mr. Weasley grew more subdued, his brow creasing in concern.

“I’m going to be moving into Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer,” Harry explained. He saw Mr. Weasley prepare to protest, but held up his hand and went on, refusing to be put off until he’d said what he needed to. “I’m grateful to you and your family for everything, but what I really need is some space to… sort of get my head on straight. I’m planning on leaving tonight.”

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, pausing a moment to make sure Harry wasn’t going to interrupt. “I know things have been iffy between you and Ron with all of this Malfoy business, but, speaking as a father of many sons, disagreements are a part of life and running away from them never solved anything.”

Harry was confused. He raised an eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with Ron,” he said. “Ron has every right to feel as he does about Malfoy. I understand that and I don’t have a problem with it. We’ve sort of agreed to not talk about it. I’m pretty sure Ron understands why I felt the need to testify even if he doesn’t agree with me.”

“Oh?” Mr. Weasley said, puzzled. “Is it something to do with Ginny then? You know, your parents didn’t get on at all until their final year at Hogwarts. Little spats and arguments are perfectly normal in the …’

“No,” Harry interrupted. He really didn’t want to be reminded of how the Weasleys seemed to think he and Ginny were carbon copies of his parents. “I’m not my parents, and this doesn’t have anything to do with Ginny either,” he said, not entirely truthfully. “I need some time away from everybody else, to come to terms with what’s happened in my life so far. I won’t be alone; Kreacher will be there with me and I’ll welcome visitors. I plan on being present for the Hogwarts restoration, so it’s not like I’m cutting myself off entirely. You can understand, can’t you, that after all that has happened, I just need some space?”

Mr. Weasley’s expression, while not pleased, was at least not offended either. “Well, yes. I can see your point.” He rubbed his bald patch on his head absently. “I suppose I can respect your decision. You are of age, after all. But I want to really make it clear to you that we consider you part of the family, Harry. The last thing I want is to lose you to the world. You’re always welcome in our house.”

Harry smiled gratefully. It cheered him immensely to hear what he’d always dreamed of as a child: that he was accepted and wanted, rather than shunned and ignored.

“Thanks, honestly, Mr. Weasley,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

“You know you can call me Arthur,” Mr. Weasley said, after a moment’s pause. “Let’s go and fetch George now. I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to help you move your things after dinner. Oh … You are planning to stay for dinner? Molly’s going to share the news with everyone and it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t there.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll stay for dinner.”

~x~

The atmosphere at the Burrow was filled with jubilation at Mrs. Weasley’s announcement.

Harry grinned happily, chatting with Ron and George while she prodded them all to take a third helping. Ginny was the only one in the room that seemed to not be enjoying herself.

Harry tried not to notice her avoidance of him as she deliberately interacted with her parents so as not to have to talk to him. She was also keen to help with the dishes, and tidy up afterwards, which was unusual for her. He felt the loss of her presence in the game of gobstones he was enjoying with Ron and George astutely, but made an effort to appear to be enjoying himself.

“What’s got into Gin?” George whispered suddenly over the gameboard so only Harry and Ron could hear him. “She’s acting odd tonight.”

Ron shrugged, popping a biscuit into his mouth as he tallied his score. “Dunno,” he said, crumbs littering his crossed legs. “Looks like I’m one up. One more round and I’ll have you beat!” he said, swallowing at last.

Harry found it harder to pretend to be happy now that more people were aware of the coldness Ginny was displaying.

The final round of the game ended as four tawny barn owls flew through the open kitchen window and landed on the back of the sofa in the sitting room.

The Weasleys were just as surprised as Harry to be receiving owls at such a late hour. “Oh, they’re from Hogwarts,” Mr. Weasley announced, untying the letter from one of the owls’ legs. “This one is for Harry.” He handed Harry the letter, and set about to passing the rest to Ron and Ginny. When he untied the fourth letter, however, he looked confusedly at the name on the envelope. “Molly?” he called up the stairs, as Mrs. Weasley had taken a load of washing up to the tub.

She came down shortly, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“You have a letter from Hogwarts,” Mr. Weasley told her, passing it over.

Harry hadn’t opened his letter, as he was planning to leave in a few minutes, but Ron and Ginny had opened theirs and Ron was moaning about why it was necessary for him to have to go back to school now that he was of age.

“What’s it say, Mum?” George quipped, ignoring Ron.

Harry watched her break the seal, smiling amusedly. “Well there’s only one way to find out. I wonder if …”

She trailed off as she read the letter, then looked up at Mr. Weasley, slightly troubled. “Arthur, I’d like a word in private, please,” she said, then turned, smiling at the rest of them. “It’s nothing concerning you lot,” she said, pleasantly. “Personal matters,” she said with a wink, making Ron groan. Then she turned to Harry.

“Harry,” she said, holding him close to her bosom in a hug. “You take care now. Remember that if you want to come back, even for a night or two, our house is open to you. And take care that you feed yourself on a regular basis. I don’t want to find you’ve gone and wasted away because I took my eyes off you.”

Harry smiled, hugging her back. The scent of her perfume and the weight of her arms around him made him feel as wanted and loved as if he were one of her own. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll take care of myself.”

She smiled at him once more and turned to her children. “George, you help Harry get his things moved, and Ron and Ginny, I expect the noise level to drop in an hour, understand?”

They nodded, muttering about her habit of directing their lives as if they were chessmen under their breaths, but she didn’t seem to hear as she followed Mr. Weasley up the stairs.

Harry grabbed his rucksack and the replacement Firebolt he’d bought himself in Diagon Alley the previous weekend. “I’ve really got it all, George,” he said. “I tend to travel light.”

“Don’t even think about it, mate,” George said, an eyebrow cocked. “You think I’m going to chance getting in a row with her,” he said, jerking his head towards the stairs, “if she finds out I didn’t come along to make sure you made in one piece?”

Harry laughed. “Right. How stupid of me. Come and see me at Grimmauld, Ron,” Harry said, grinning. “I’ll have Kreacher clear out the spiders and things.”

Ron smiled widely. “Count on it.” He put his letter on the table. “Hey where’d Ginny get off to?”

Harry shrugged. He had seen her slip through the kitchen door the moment her mother had left the room, but he hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to it.

“Well, it’s all right,” Harry said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure I’ll catch up with her at the restoration. It’s not like I’m moving to Bulgaria or anything.”

He and George made their way through the gnome-infested garden, George pausing to toss one of the little potato-shaped creatures over a hedge when it tried to bite his ankle. They reached the edge of the property and turned on the spot, disapparating with two small pops.
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Let Me Be Your Voice