Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Stream of Consciousness	By : AngelNarcissa90 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Neither do I profit from the pleasurable experience of writing. Warning: Rape and Abuse Featured.

Chapter List
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Enjoy the ride...
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Chapter 4: Judge, Jury and Executioner
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Harry leaned back against Luna’s knees. She was sitting in the armchair. He on the floor in front of her. He’d been hiding away at Luna’s for over a week and he still hadn’t overstayed his welcome. The warmth that radiated off of her almost peaked Harry’s interest. He’d been avoiding Ginny since he’d returned to the Burrow. She had chosen to give him some space and went to stay with her brother Bill and sister-in-law Fleur at Shell Cottage. For some reason, Harry was sure that Ginny understood his need for time apart. This was the first time in his in a long time that Harry had the power to decide what he wanted to do with his free time. The last thing Harry wanted was a relationship to cloud his mind and his judgment.
“Have you thought about going upstairs? I know there aren’t any narggles up there.”
Harry closed his eyes and turned the book he’d been browsing through upside down on his lap. “I don’t know what those are Luna, but I believe you. And I’m not going upstairs to find out. How would you know that anyway?”
Harry felt Luna’s body move behind him. The way her knees bounced and her toes bent into his bum let Harry know that she wasn't interested in answering.
“I think I’d rather risk the basement,” Harry suggested. He figured that Snape’s potions lab would be down there. It was just as intimate a space as the bedroom, but at least there was no bed there. The lab represented Snape’s ability and strength, his bedroom represented his failure. As far as Harry knew Snape had no love outside of Lily Potter, Harry’s mum. And with her being a Potter and not a Snape, her surname said it all.
“Alright,” Luna quipped and Harry felt a brush of a chaste kiss on his forehead before being gently nudged away from the armchair. Harry scuttled forward before raising himself up on his knees and paused before standing. “A hand please, I’m an old man you know.”
Chuckling, Luna grasped his outstretched hand and pulled lightly, “That’s why you should invent a potion that stops aging. Then you wouldn’t be such an old man.”
Harry nodded enthusiastically playing along as he stood to follow her to the door nearest to the fireplace. It wasn’t noticeable unless one stood exactly in front of it and thought of something related to potions. Harry had discovered it by accident a day ago when he’d been taking turns about the room with one of Snape’s potions’ manuals in hand.
From Harry’s vantage point, he could not see the door, but he remembered to keep the ingredients for the sleeping draught in mind as he followed Luna seemingly into the wall.
Once beyond the threshold, Harry ducked his head and made his way down the old winding staircase. There were three trick steps. One was like a hidden staircase in Hogwarts with a squeaky stair at the top to alert whoever was in the lab of another’s entrance. Harry had tried to step over it, but he couldn’t. The second was something of an honesty step. Luna told him as she stepped over it and shivered that it could tell if one had dishonest intent. Whether or not it would relay that information to the potions’ master downstairs and how was another story. Harry too shivered as he stepped on it and made his way to the last step which was missing yet visibly there at the bottom nearly causing him to fall on his bum.
Harry shook his head slightly amused, just getting to the lab was a kind of adventure. There was an open space before him and it seemed larger than the room above was. Harry figured the lab must span the length and width of the house as he turned to look around the staircase that seemed to float in midair. Rows of hearths were on either side of the expansive space. Harry figured that was how Snape was able to brew so much. He could have gone into business and supported himself after the war.
Harry felt the weight he’d been trying to ignore slam him in the gut forcing him to the lone desk and chair near a dimly glowing lamp. He sat heavily feeling an age he had not yet physically reached overcome him. This was Snape’s sanctuary and here he was polluting it with his presence. He hadn’t freed Draco; he hadn’t convinced anyone of Draco’s innocence or at the least the fact that he wasn’t a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater’s son, but not one himself. Harry hoped that that fact would save Draco from Azkaban.
“Wouldn’t it be fun,” Luna said airily "if you made this place your own?”
Harry glanced at her as she twirled in the center of the room, lost in tune to music Harry was unable to hear. “Yeah, I can imagine trying to fit a Quidditch pitch down here. Seems pretty difficult, I’ll need to work on my charms extra hard,” Harry meant to sound as sarcastic as he could.
Luna appeared not to notice or perhaps she didn’t care, “Yes, you will. When school starts back up and we finish our final year, I have a feeling you’ll be needing this place.”
Harry nodded in agreement, “You’re absolutely right. As soon as Draco finds out about us sharing all this, I’ll come down here to hide and that third step with stop him from killing me.”
“Oh, Harry…” Luna smiled as she continued her spinning about the room. She pulled out her wand and moved it in tune with her private beat. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, grasping and yanked fist fulls of it. Harry searched the large room with his eyes. There were six hearths on each side, twelve in all. Harry could see a door on the side of the staircase and he thought it was a storeroom. He got up to investigate.
The door did lead to another room; it was a storeroom with all kinds of ingredients. Harry sighed to himself. He hoped to find something different. Maybe even another hidden room. He was disappointed to find nothing of the sort.
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Ron pushed his way into the kitchen of the Burrow. He hadn’t known that he would be spending two weeks in Australia. Hermione’s parents had turned out to be brilliant. They decided to stay for a few more days and enjoy Queensland more before returning to their ordinary life. Witnessing the gratitude on Hermione’s face had been worth the whole trip. He absolutely adored the way her brown eyes seemed to melt with love and generosity as she explained to them why she’d chosen to protect them in that manner.
Courageous, headstrong, determined, beautiful and strategic were the words that immediately came to mind when he thought of his girlfriend. Ruffling his hair, Ron pulled out his wand as he was alerted out of his musings, by the sight of the foreign wizard in front of him. He had dark, messy hair, deep set dark green eyes that were narrowed at him. Looking around at the table where he was seated, Ron met his sister's gaze.
“Will you put that thing down?” She sounded embarrassed as she should be bringing a strange wizard into their home.
“Are you dating him? Met him up at Bill’s place eh? I don’t like him.” Ron nodded at his sister while still keeping his gaze on the intruder.
“Oh, honestly Ronald, it’s Harry.” A voice said behind him, Ron was sure that it was his mother, but his mind was racing how could this foreigner be Harry?
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Harry enjoyed the shocked look on Ron’s face. Ron hadn’t lowered his wand for a good two minutes before a threat sent his way made him comply. Now he was sitting in his best mate’s room on the floor. Ron was sitting across from him staring at Harry intently.
“You’re off your rocker.”
Harry nodded, “You’ve been saying that for a while now. Can’t you think of something a bit more informative to say? I’m getting nackered.”
Ron closed his mouth after working it silently to no avail.
“I’ll say this one more time. I was just trying out a potion—a relatively safe one—that involved hair growth and this is what happened. My glasses have been growing hair as well. I must have added something wrong somewhere, but every time I try to cut it, it just grows right back.” Harry watched Ron raise a hand to his forehead. Harry honestly thought that maybe Ron would be laughing at him, not angry with him. Something had gone right with the potion because his hair did not grow further than his shoulders.
“Since when do you practice potions? You’re turning into him. I mean you can’t really want to study potions. We were horrid at it during school and you haven’t even taken your N.E.W.T.S.”
“Ron,” Harry began seeing that Ron’s prejudiced logic was ruling his perception of reality, “I know that but neither did anyone else because of the final battle. I’ll have a second chance when I go back.”
Ron looked shocked again, his eyebrows raising to his red hairline. “Going back! Well, I’m not, I going to train as should you. We made plans Harry, plans. You’re not going to break them now.”
Harry frowned at the definite tone in Ron’s voice. He sounded as if Harry didn’t have a choice and that was just not the case. There was always a choice. He’d done well under Snape’s tutelage with the late man’s Half-Blood Prince notes and suggestions. If only Snape had been like that during Harry’s formative years. He may not have been such shit at it. Besides his hair was not permanent, once he figured out what went wrong with the potion, he’d be back to normal in no time. He'd even be wearing his glasses. Although the charmed contact lenses he was wearing worked like a beautifully. Luna had conjured them out of the glass of his spectacles after Harry explained to her what seeing impaired muggles wore when not wearing glasses. Harry thought they would hurt but they fit comfortably.
“I know that Ron, but things change. I’ve changed.” Harry shook his head and stood up. There was no way he was going to get through Ron’s thick skull tonight. “Even if you don’t, I’m going back. I’m passing my N.E.W.T.S and then I’m going to become a potions’ master’s apprentice. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me and I am not going to spend it chasing more death and destruction that’s been my life since before I can remember.”
Harry left the room and descended the steep staircase, George wouldn’t mind if he slept in his old room. George and Percy had finally returned to their own prospective homes. When Harry had stepped through the door, a few days before with Luna on his heels, he’d ran into Lee Jordan who was going with George back to his place. Apparently, he was going to help sort through Fred’s things with George and try to make the process a bit smoother than it had been before the grieving process began.
Harry sighed heavily as he sat down on his bed for the night. Ron was acting like an oaf. Why couldn’t he see that Harry needed something that involved stability in his life? He didn’t want to be like a muggle police officer. Danger appearing around every corner. He almost wished Luna were there for him to lean back into her embrace or to rest his head on her lap. He was starting to feel very lonely and the Malfoy trials were going to begin soon. He’d already received his summons to appear as a witness for all of the Malfoys and Harry had already decided that he was going to be their closest ally.
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“Right, right you are. Ah! Harry my boy! Good to see you, good to see you,” Cornelius Fudge exclaimed as he stood up from behind his big expansive desk. Harry was sure that his eyebrows couldn’t get any higher from his surprise. What the hell was this twat doing here?
Harry sat where Fudge gestured, a seat next to Kingsley who was dressed sharply in a tailored suit. It was fitting for the newly elected Minster for Magic. The seat was plush and striped and Harry was surprised it wasn’t as greasy as Fudge made him feel. He’d been escorted by Aurors much to Ron’s delight to the Ministry of Magic. It seemed that Fudge wanted to discuss something with him.
“Kingsley and I have been talking. You’ve decided to act as key witness in not only Narcissa Malfoy’s trial, but also Draco and Lucius Malfoy as well?” Fudge appeared dismayed. For such an unpopular political figure, Harry still wasn’t sure why Fudge was here. The look on Harry's face must have said as much because Kingsley jumped into the conversation.
“Harry,” he began in his deep baritone voice, “Narcissa and even Draco are understandable, but Lucius is a confirmed and active Death Eater. Case closed, he should go to Azkaban.”
“I know that,” Harry snapped impatiently, resisting the urge to pull on the ponytail gathered at the base of his neck as was his current habit when annoyed. “I do think he shouldn’t be sentenced, just not for life. He did come to our side at the end, before the Battle of Hogwarts. He didn’t even participate and he was being held captive at Malfoy Manor when Ron, Hermione and I were taken hostage. I think those are sufficient reasons for his sentenced to be reduced.”
Fudge snorted and leaned back into his leather chair, “And what, pray tell, do you think that sentencing should be?”
Harry shrugged, “Time served.”
“What?!” Fudge and Kingsley simultaneous shouted.
“I’m sure that you’re aware that in some muggle courts time served is used on offenders who’ve demonstrated remorse, guilt and have already spent a significant amount of time imprisoned. Obviously, all the Malfoy’s have done this seeing as how they’ve been in the holding cells since the war ended. And if you think about it, they were imprisoned by Voldemort even before I left on my mission to destroy him. Lucius fell out of favor at least two years ago."
“You mean you would let him walk free?” Kingsley asked ignoring Harry’s implicit accusation of injustice to the Malfoy’s being held without being charged or tried in a timely fashion.
“No,” Harry shook his head, “I mean yes, in a way, he would be guilty, but he wouldn’t go to Azkaban.”
“Yes, I don’t see the Wizengamot agreeing with you.” Fudge said at last, a smug expression etched into his face. Harry would have loved to imprint his fist on the man’s cheek, but Kingsley’s thoughtful expression intrigued him. Perhaps, he had gotten through to someone.
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“You’re up, Malfoy.” Draco felt the tingling sensation of the scourgify spell over his body before he was pulled away from Zabini’s warm embrace. Forced to stand on wobbly legs, Draco leaned heavily onto his warder. He smelled like the man that had been forcing himself on him every other night. Cringing, Draco allowed himself to be roughly clothed. The silky smooth fabric of his long forgotten button up shirt was refreshing and warm. It was followed by a navy blue blazer and warm trousers. There was no attempt to replace his underwear.
Shivering, Draco fell forward the moment he was released from the strong grasp of his guard. Magic was the only thing holding him as he was lead out of the cell. Draco’s half-hooded eyes squeezed shut at the sharpness of the light around him. Even if it was only dim candle lighting from a few feet above his head. His vision had become somewhat better.
“Hurry ‘em up, there’s a crowd out there; expecting a hanging they are.” A gruff illiterate voice said as Draco passed by his feet levitating off the ground. A dull thud in his abdomen kept him from having a completely clear head. Draco’s vision swam when he opened his eyes fully and was lowered onto his feet which had been clothed in warm socks and shoes. These garments he hadn’t seen in a long time almost made him tear up with emotion at the privilege of wearing them once more. He didn’t want to go to Azkaban.
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Draco didn’t know where he was as he stood in front of large wooden doors surrounded by cold stone walls that were gray and lifeless. His personal guard had been flanked by Aurors once he ascended two levels above the cell he had been stationed in. A stray thought enlightened him to the possibility of him being tried and this being his trial. He could go free after this and the many humiliations he suffered would be nothing more than a memory.
The chains that had been placed over his hands were heavy and forced him to hunch slightly. He still did not know if his parents had already been tried and whether or not they had been released or imprisoned. He knew nothing of their whereabouts.
The doors opened before him with a loud ominous sound. Draco was shuffled forward by a guard. It was hard to move his legs with the shackles around his ankles, clasped over his pants. It had been easier when he was being levitated. The guard from his cell was still practically carrying him to the chair that he knew, as a defendant, he would be occupying. The walk was longer than he thought to the middle of the courtroom to the chair that would chain him in place while he was being questioned. He didn’t need to see it with perfect vision to know that it was there and when he was shoved into it, he bit back a groan.
Unable to sit comfortably with the new leather straps that held him replacing the chains on his ankles and wrists. Draco was left to squint in the uncomfortable bright light. He knew that the Minister for Magic, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic were situated above him in high seats. The crowd of spectators and reporters would be gathered in seats higher, above him watching. It was strange that Draco didn't hear anything of the chatter that was sure to be going on upon the sight of him. Draco was much too tired to struggle, sneer or even grimace at his current predicament. He heard the bang of the gavel and knew that the trial was underway.
“Draco Malfoy,” a deep masculine voice began, “you have been charged with the high crime of aiding the sworn enemy of all the Wizarding and Muggle world alike: Tom Riddle also known as Lord Voldemort. You, as a misguided youth followed in the footsteps of your father, a known Death Eater, in the hopes of thwarting our Savior: Harry James Potter. Many of your peers have been tried in this very court and sentenced. Many of your peers, as misguided as you have died as a result of their adherence to this failed Dark Lord as you and your lot called him.
What have you to say in your defense as a follower of Tom Riddle? Bear in mind that you are an adult wizard and this council will treat you as such.”
Another voice interrupted, “First, administer the veritaserum. We want only the truth from this misguided youth.”
Draco watched bleary eyed as the proctor tipped his head backwards with little effort and he opened his mouth to comply. Three drops were given and instantly, Draco felt lightheaded. He was so at peace that he continued to lean backwards and closed his eyes. His breathing evened. He felt so light, so at peace that even breathing seemed like too much effort. Without another thought Draco Malfoy ceased being and died. He could feel his heartbeat growing distant and in the distance he felt something outside of his mind begging him to cling to life.
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Harry was among the few in the crowd who stood trying to see past the magically placed veil that hovered between those watching the court proceedings and Draco. Kingsley, along with Fudge and two other witches had gone behind the veil. The proceedings had stopped dead when Draco had stopped breathing. Some witches and wizards in the audience had shouted obscenities at Draco only to be silenced.
Harry’s heart thudded heavily in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to rush down there and see what was happening and if Draco would pull through. The pale face of his ex-enemy had been paler and gaunt looking. His clothes seemed old and threadbare even though they were obviously made of expensive fabric. He had moved with a stiffness that made Harry’s heart ache upon seeing him. Harry was surprised at the effort of the Auror walking next to Draco to help him walk in some kind of dignified manner. There was no confidence and hardly any life in his face or his eyes. Draco’s eyes had been open in the beginning, but within a few minutes of Kingsley’s speech, they had closed.
Stealing a glance at Hermione and Ron, Harry could see their concern. None of them had known the conditions in which Draco had been kept. Both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had appeared tired and worn, but much better than Draco. Their clothes didn’t look so dirty and his skin, when Harry had squinted it appeared to have been cleaned with a meager scourgify charm. How could they have let him decay so visibly? Harry shuddered to think about the physical abuse that was hidden under Draco’s unsightly clothing.
Molly Weasley had her hand covering her mouth as she watched in anticipation. “I never knew, Arthur, did you?”
Harry watched as Arthur Weasley shook his head silently.
“The trial will not be commencing any further. I beg of you all to go home. Deputy Ministers will be waiting at the way out to make sure that you all leave orderly. There will be no more trials held until further notice.” Harry knew the voice belonged to Percy who had resumed his duties shortly after Harry left the Burrow for a timeout at Luna’s home.
“I’m sure Perce will tell us what’s going on.” Ron nodded assuredly. He stood up and tugged on Hermione’s hand. Ron still refused to acknowledge Harry's presence since the talk they’d had. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look over her shoulder. They still hadn’t had a private conversation. He opened a piece of paper that Hermione had slipped inside his pocket during the brief trial and they were due for a secret meeting when Ron was too preoccupied to notice. Harry tucked it back into his pocket and slowly followed Arthur out of the courtroom.
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R&R. Life or Death or Life after death? A new Draco? What do you think?
All chapters that have been updated have horizontal lines as breaks in between scenes. Thanks for reading.
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