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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's note:

The biggest thanks goes out to LILIA0, who was kind and sweet enough to first review and then Accept my request to beta for this story, After which i fussed around nervously only to find her going through it all sweetly. I promise it will get better Lilia! Thanks a lot.

Chapter 4 - Unavoidable Tempest

Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,

there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase 'each other' doesn't make any sense (Rumi)

At the time Draco Malfoy had thought that those were the most miserable days of his life. Trapped in Spinner's end, being summoned by the dark lord to be tortured by the Cruciatus and returning to Spinner's end only to relentlessly practice Occlumency and Legilimency. No rest, no reprieve, but that was not what was eating him alive. The boy was in despair. He knew that Potter had seen him raising his wand to kill Dumbledore. He did not know what was more horrifying, the fact that he was appointed to kill Dumbledore, or the fact that he was weak enough to fail in his task. Though his parents had been spared solely on the fact that he had been able to get death-eaters into Hogwarts which the Dark Lord himself hadn't been able to do. It still did nothing to cut down the humiliation that was brought to his name and family.

He was at the edge of losing his sanity and total collapse from exhaustion. He knew Severus was only trying to help him because of which he did not complain and then one day, during a particularly gruesome session of Occlumency, he broke through Severus' offensive barrier and leeched access into his God Father's mind.

He dove deep and fast, not knowing how long this could last. He did not know what he was looking for, only that he was looking for a solution. And it came to him. A memory placed in enough guards to attract him so he dove forwards.

He saw a child of not more than Seven walking with Severus, a much younger Severus. A child version of himself figured Draco. Latched on to Severus' hand, skipping along, because when it was just Severus and him, he could skip along as much he wanted. he could jump, roll around, run and try wind-milling as well. Severus allowed it always. Always smiling secretively at the child's antics yet always pretending to be irritated. Little Draco could read the man like an open book.

"Are you taking me to the Muggle park again Severus? I do fancy an Ice cream cone. Can I get a cone Severus?" asked the little Draco, making his best pleading face.

"Later Little Slytherin. First we have to do something important, and that something important is going to happen there." He points in a direction where the little boy could see nothing but some strange looking stones that stood up vertically in a haphazard way. Draco viewing the memory realized that he did not remember this ever happening, but it felt familiar.

"What is that?" asked the little Draco thoroughly curious.

"It's the Stonehenge" Answered Severus.

"Really? And what do you do with it?"

"Why little Slytherin, Magic of course." Severus answered sternly but amusement could be seen dancing in his eyes.

"Magic? We are going to do magic with the Stonehenge?" The child looks up with incredulity far more mature than the age. Something he picked from his God father along the way.

"No, you are going to do the magic with the Stonehenge." He answered smirking.

"I am going to do Magic? Do I get a Wand? Do I? I learned a brilliant spell just yesterday, but father won't allow me his wand." The boy was now literally jumping in excitement.

"No, no wands needed." said Severus sternly.

The bouncing child deflated a little chewing his lip and frowning like someone far older than a mere Seven year old.

"Wandless magic?" asked the child solemnly curious.

"You will just have to see when we get there"

The memory pushed forward and now the two people were standing on the edge of the haphazard stones.

"Do you feel something?" asked Severus. The little boy shook his head but looked a little paler than natural.

"We have to walk between the stones." Severus informed the little boy before taking a step towards the stones. Only to find the little boy pulling back.

"What is it Draco?"

"They are sleeping, we should not disturb them." whispered the little boy trying to pull the tall man back.

"Who is sleeping Draco, who should we not disturb?" Severus knelt in front of the struggling boy.

"The People in the stones, Can't you see them? the guard says I walk too loud and I can wake them up. Which will make them mad because they should not be woken up. He says I am still too little to wake them up." The little boy whimpered.

"It's all right Draco. We will not wake the people in the stones. We will just go and touch one of these stones and then we can go back and get that Ice cream you wanted." Severus picked up the Shivering boy in his arms and slowly walked towards the nearest stone.

The nearer they got, the more the boy shivered and shook. At last standing right in front of the stone Severus pulled a clenching fist away from the his collar gently but sternly and placed it on the stone after coaxing the curled fingers open. The boy stilled immediately and turned towards the stone. Severus watched in fascination as the surface of the stone where the hand of the little boy lay started to shimmer, The rough stone changing into a sheer glass, the surface so smooth and clear that Severus thought he could see his own reflection, but when he really looked it was not a reflection at all, something was looking through the glass the stone surface had turned into from the other side.

'Ah! It seems we have another Malfoy on our hands, this one is a little younger though isn't he?" Severus is startled when the little boy he is holding in his arms speaks abruptly in the voice of a man.

"Younger, seventh in line, and infinitely more powerful, Oh Chezarak! This is the one we have been waiting for, eons and eons! But still so young! So young." Says a shrill voice hardly passable as female with fervor, but the Malice and greed that drips from it chills Severus to his core.

"You are right Chezaree, but he will come to us, he will come to us with a plea, a bargain, the boy loves too much, and we will give him what he wants, we will, and then he will come into a terrible power that waits for him, the fate of the world in his fist. Oh Chezaree! How we have waited!"

"Take him away now Severus Snape, we know you will try to stop him, but he will come to us, You cannot change what the boy was born with, He will one day be the master of Death, make sure to teach him how to be the master of life Severus Snape, for none exists without the other."

Severus stumbled back from the stone as the boy went limp in his arm, and Severus ran. Severus ran as if the devil himself was on his heels. The limp boy pressed against his chest Severus ran until he was far out of the range of the damned place and then turned on his feet disapparating swiftly with an audible pop.

A second later he apparated in front of the entrance gate of the Malfoy Manor and rushed inside spitting at the house elf that was waiting to get Lucius and Narcissa immediately as he turned to a secluded part of the garden. Severus laid down the boy on the iron bench after casting a few cushioning and softening charms and swiftly cast the strongest privacy and silencing charm he could think of. Once he was done Lucius and Narcissa were already there. One look at Severus' face and Lucius stumbled in his stride as his face went the palest that Severus had ever seen. Narcissa took one look at her husband and her face turned to ashes as well. Her eye widened as they entered the privacy charm Severus had just erected. Looking at the little boy who was now in a deep slumber.

"Tell me Severus! Not my son! Please Severus tell me! My son is not it!" Lucius was holding Severus' collar in a vice-grip, the most wild and pleading Severus had ever seen him.

Severus just nodded at Lucius Malfoy, who looked as if someone had stabbed him in the heart and fell on his knees still holding lapels of Severus' robes.

"What is it Severus?" Narcissa's voice was a hoarse whisper as she moved closer to Severus. Severus gathered all his strength and courage to utter the words that needed to be said out loud, as whispering and imagining them or not would not change a thing.

"Your son will one day be the Master of Death Narcissa. He is a Necromancer and he will be the greatest of them all."

Narcissa Malfoy stood frozen in her place for a moment, before she too came down like a wall of ice.

I walk through the entrance of the Ceremonial Hall as if on a cue. My senses on full alert as I see rows and rows of people standing silently, waiting for me. I am prepared. I am prepared for the people, I am prepared to take my rightful place, I am prepared to say appropriate words and make appropriate gesture, I am prepared for everything. I am Lord Malfoy, Heir to the biggest Wizarding fortune in Europe and I never come unprepared.

The two hour meeting that I had with Montague earlier in the morning has prepared me for all the questions that will be asked. It has informed me about all the current major power players at the Ministry and the desperation of the Ministry in finding funds. It has informed me thoroughly of how the trials for my family went after I left. It also outlined for me how deeply Potter has been involved in securing feather weight sentence for my father, a full pardon, with necessary honors for my mother, and for me my name on the Martyr's memorial. Of course!

Bloody Gryffindor nobility!

I dare not ask farther than 'his' involvement in the rescue and favors for my family. If I could just slip in the questions that I really need to ask unnoticed. Is he married, does he have children? No, I vow to not let myself be diverted today. I have specific and dangerous reasons that have forced me to return, I will not ignore the bigger picture. He can go fly a Hippogriff.

No, I just need to tie lose ends and this is why this event holds so much importance. I would have the surprise element on my side which would fend off the suspicion for long enough that I would be able to plant necessary foundations to my claims and my story. Not to mention how advantageous the groundwork of goodwill Potter has already laid down for my family will be in my success in this endeavor. I will be damned if I do not utilize it all to my utmost advantage.

Because, no one can ever know the truth. This world does not appreciate what they don't understand.

And I am something they will never understand.

So spread silly stories with conviction enough and they will suck it up.

They better.

I am prepared for the people alright. I am brand new. I am shiny and I am rich and don't sport a Dark Mark anymore. They are bound to believe.

The truth can't be farther than that. They don't need the truth, only I in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind will know the truth, but that truth is not for today.

I have dressed meticulously in most exquisite robes that belonged to my Great-grandfather. It is tradition, One should never wear anything new to the wake of a family member. After a few alterations by the House-elves the robe fits me perfectly like a second skin. The dragon-hide boots are my father's, and the cane once belonged to my grandfather. I changed it a little, so that now in place of the Three-headed rune spoor is the head of a Norman Silverback. One of the most magnificent dragons I have ever laid eyes on, next to the one and only that I stare in the mirror at. Vanity, how I have missed you.

I am dressed to the nines in Wizarding robes again after seven years and it is like I never stopped wearing these. I look down at myself one final time and find everything in place as I climb down the two steps that lead on to the center aisle. I feel like Moses standing on the edge of a parted red sea about to cross over to the other side.

I take sure and confident steps and focus on the black casket that stands in the direction of my nose. My magic is rigidly coiled inside me. All under control, and it is going to stay that way. Whatever may my misgivings be, I will charm the crowd today. I am the son of Narcissa Malfoy. Who even Voldemort could not get through to whilst residing in her own house, so magnificent was her façade. My mother, my beautiful mother, lending me her strength even after death. Just like she lent me her wand when I lost mine…

'To him.'

Suddenly the warmth starts building up in my chest again, just like last night, only stronger.

Potter is here. He is very close by. I curse myself silently as I refuse to let my step falter or stop altogether and run back out of the Hall. I will have to face him eventually, the sooner the better.

'Disgusting!' I tell myself. 'You are pathetic!' says the Malfoy part of me, as my eyes start to search the crowd I can see without turning head, 'just a glimpse, a little one… Just to see how he looks now, just to see if his eyes are still green enough, just to see his face in astonishment and wonder to see you back from the death.' the little Draco part of me says. The part I never want to obey. For the things it asks, can never be. I had hoped that they would be gone by now. I haven't felt the both parts of me for at least five years. When I trained and labored to reach my goal. When I forgot even my own name. When I forgot my home. And now I return and I am what I wanted to be, but I am still me. Now that I am back. I am also me, the Malfoy, the little Draco. The Malfoy that can never be satisfied with anything and urges to be cold and aloof, the little Draco, that wants and needs and begs and pleads. There used to be a Little Slytherin in here somewhere also. Who was curious, warm, happy and belonged to the Big Slytherin. The Big Slytherin whose empty home at Spinner's end was my first stop when I came back. More than my mother, I mourn him.

I am almost half way towards my destination when the warmth increases exponentially finally supported by the visual evidence a split second later as my eyes close in on that black hair on the head facing away from me. So dark in their color that they almost have a blue sheen to them in the light of the ceremonial hall. So close, why is he so close? I need my composure right now. I have to fight this.

And why is he standing in the last row's first seat on the right side? In the place I specified especially for the 'Lord Black' when the House elf had told me about the Lord Black coming every fortnight to see my mother. This must be some kind of mistake. I tell myself. A mistake someone will pay dearly for.

Closer and closer I get, the more tight my coil is, like a serpent on the seething edge, irritated and upset by its inability to find something to sink its poison into. I am losing control. How I hate him at the moment. How I want to rip him or myself into pieces. How I loathe him for causing this unbearable warm ache in my chest when I need cool precision to make my way and protect myself. But it's not his fault is it? No this is my doing and I shall bear it alone.

I shroud myself in calculation then. He is taller than the last time I had seen him. Much taller. His robe is formal, expensive. His broad shoulders look rigid. Strong and muscled. Telling of physical labor. I snap myself out of it as I reach closer yet. As I pass him finally, feeling on a precipice. Praying and pleading that he would look at me and would not look at me at the same time.

He bends his head down.

Something shatters inside me.

I am grateful and murderous at the same time. I know how I sound.

I kneel down in front of my mother's casket without thinking about it. The warmth is now dancing from chest and spreading through my shoulders, arm, wrists and then hands. The cold of the marble against my warming skin is a soothing reminder.

'Focus Draco. You need to Focus.' My mind says in a voice eerily similar to my Mother's.

I pay my respects.

And now comes the hard part. Facing the congregation. Facing the crowd that is eerily quite.

The wake has so far gone off without a single glitch. It will remain that way. I pray that the shock gets the best of them until the ceremony is done. I will honor my Mother's last wishes to the dot.

I heave myself up as gracefully as I can from my kneeling position and walk over to take my place now between the statue of Athena and the viewing pedestal. Gesturing to the Ceremony performer to start with the ritual. I am thankful that I have been able to do as much as I look straight back at the crowd that is now staring at me and my eyes inadvertently are drawn to the right side.

Its him. His eyes are looking at me but not seeing me, no, his eyes are fixed on my hands. No judgment in those eyes, no reaction, only observation. Some things never change. He always looked at me but never saw me. He always reacted to my provocation, never to me.

I feel the stab of his indifference. Is my face not worthy enough to be bestowed a look upon? I can feel my soul shrinking and shriveling up. What is anything worth? What is all my suffering worth? Was it all worth it? As if answering my silent questions he looks up straight into my eyes.

Green. So green. The green of Poison and Paradise. Frozen.

I see the lines of observation and indifference erase themselves off his face and be replaced by the blankness of shock. He blinks.

Some reprieve at last. So it wasn't indifference, he had been slow enough to look at my face last in the order of things.

No, some things never change. Same goes for Gryffindor perplexity. I am amused, but at the same time I am outraged by my reaction as well.

It's easy to scold and hate myself now isn't it when his stare is fixed on me, knowing that I have his undivided attention.

'Pathetic Draco. You are absolutely pathetic!'

I stare right back.

Golden skin stretched perfectly on that aristocratic nose and jaw that would look too imposing on a face with any less broader cheeks. Lips that give away too much information just by their small purses and pouts. A perfect symmetry between polished and ruggedness. The thick but soft and curved eyebrows that encase the most beautiful green eyes known to me, eyes that are not hiding behind those ugly glasses anymore. Eyes that are like a rainfall down a scorched soul. He would look the perfect aristocrat were it not for that absolutely indomitable hair, so black in color that it gives off a blue sheen.

I hate the way he looks beautiful to me. I hate it. I now remember why I did not want to come back. How could I be foolish enough to think that I would look upon him and remain unaffected?

He has an excuse to stare at me. I am supposed to be dead and now I stand right here very much alive. What excuse do I have to stare at him.

I HATE HIM!

The expression on his face starts to change then. Blankness of shock turns to confusion and then question. So his mind is finally catching up. I am tempted to read his mind. I remember how poor an occlumens he is. I resist. Not out of honor. I assure you. No, out of fear mostly. Being back in the shoes of the Slytherin I was, is still too new for me to appreciate sadism which is so characteristic of us. I am too vulnerable, my walls too weak to enjoy Potter's hatred. There will be time to indulge in future. I am sure of it.

And now there is anger. Sheer, raw anger. Arousing a familiar feeling in my abdomen. You don't feel that much anger for someone who does not matter. I am tempted again to take a look into his mind but finally he averts his eyes. And the whole world just comes back into focus again. I feel desolate. I look down at the gaunt and thin figure of my mother.

I am alone in the world now. Literally.

I have been alone for a while now, but the knowledge that she lived and breathed somewhere still was enough for me to trundle through the murkiest of waters. Now that comfort is no more mine. It is my destiny. A Slytherin is ambitious, clever, deceptive, manipulative, sadistic and devoted, but most of all, he is alone. Salazar was alone, Voldemort was alone, Severus was alone…

I have always been alone.

I feel his piercing gaze on me again and I can't help but look back up.

There is an acceptance in those green eyes. As if he is trying to tell me that he understands, but he doesn't, he has Granger and Weasley and most probably a lover, wife or girlfriend to share with and be with. I have nothing, and I gave up the chance of having anything seven years ago.

I have nothing, only this volatile, string of actions and reactions with him. An unavoidable tempest that I share with him.

How desperate was I that I sold a piece of my soul for that tempest?

Because to imagine it being any more than that is as foolish as spitting towards the sky.

"Rest in peace." I hear the crowd say with their wands drawn up and the casket of my mother starts to lower into the sarcophagus, which later in the day will be moved to the Underground resting chambers. My thoughts have lingered too far from what I am here for today. It is time to make the speech and say the final farewell.

I recite my mother's favorite poem, surprisingly by a muggle poetess that went by the name of 'Sarah Teasdale'. I remember her singing this poem in her beautiful voice when she tended to her gardens in misty summer mornings. It is a fitting farewell I suppose.

"This is a most unprecedented surprise Mr. Malfoy. Please accept my condolences for the loss of your mother." Says the Minister of magic as he nothing short of accosts me as soon as the ceremony is over.

I feel Montague by my side. "Kingsley Shacklebolt; Minister of Magic" he murmurs into my ear. It is surprise that I hear him at all.

The whole Ceremonial Hall seems to be soaked in gasping chatters.

"Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt." I shake the dark hand the man is offering me. He looks the part. Though there is a strange dullness in his eyes, which is enough to send a warning coldness through me. I remember Montague telling me just a few hours ago about how the Ministry was looking forward to ransacking my estate. I feel like sneering, but I keep myself in check.

"Now, I think it will make the most interesting tea time conversation, this whole matter of your return from the dead…" He presses my hand warningly and I understand that this is not a request. I smile internally as I envision his outrage and fear and disgust if I ever sit down and tell him what I have done and what I am. Tea time conversation? Oh he doesn't know the half of it. I press his hand back leaning closer.

"Then I will make sure to make it good for you Minister." If that is not an offer for a payoff, then I don't know what is. Apparently he gets the picture. I half expect him to be offended being from the order and all. I expect wrong as he shrewdly considers me for a minute before inclining his head in agreement as a calculated smile graces his dark face. I have succeeded. This is the most important person to bribe and make believe, rest of the world will follow.

"Tomorrow afternoon then. My assistant bakes a wicked batch of butter scones which I am sure you will enjoy." I shoot a glance at Montague who dips his head slightly signaling me that I will have to agree and that it will be enough time for us to discuss all corners.

"I am sure I will Minister Shacklebolt. I would have invited you to the manor tomorrow but I still need time to settle down the household." I smile at him.

"Not to worry Lord Malfoy, it is totally understandable." He says as he looks around.

"I wonder where Harry has gone off to." Says the Minister trying to look over the crowd that is now teeming around the raised Platform to offer formal condolences. I notice for the first time the receding of the warmth that was almost over-whelming me until a few minutes ago. My eyes find him immediately. He is walking away towards the door, in a swift and lithe gait. Dodging people gracefully. So I guess it's Auror Potter after all.

"Ronald!" Calls Shacklebolt and I turn to see Weasley making way towards us. He has filled out over the years but has no grace like Potter. He looks tough though where Potter looks swift. I see Granger by his side Along with most of the Weasley brood in the background.

"Minister." Weasley nods and then turns towards me. I just raise a characteristic eyebrow. The blankness on the freckled face is enough to perplex me. He is wearing standard black robes that are surprisingly well fit. He looks and feels like a father would.

"Malfoy, Accept my condolences, it's a tragic loss." He says in a sincere enough tone as he puts forward his hand for me to shake. I am now covertly astonished. Though I make sure that it does not show on my face as I accept the handshake.

"Ronald, where has Harry gone off to?" asks the Minister.

"He had to leave Minister, he had something important come up." Lies Ronald Weasley as he shoots a glance at me.

"Hello Draco. I am sorry for your loss. Your mother was a heroine." I look down at the Muggle born witch who gave me such a hard time at Hogwarts. She looks radiant. Her Brown bush of a hair is tied back and her robes are immaculate. She grabs hold of Weasleys arm.

"Thank you for your kind words Mrs… Weasley I suppose?" I smile at her. If I know Granger right, she would have made a good place in the wizarding world. I will be damned if I don't make nice with her. which I would. She is a Gryffindor and as such, compassion is a done deal with her. It works.

She beams at me.

"You suppose right. I am so glad Draco that you are alive. Whatever our differences have been in the past, I just want to say Welcome back."

I am stumped by her sincerity. What are these people made of? What changed? What gives? How can they be so quick to forgive?

After that it's a flood. I accept condolences, Shake hands, make meaningless conversation and all through the gruesome process the only highlight is My aunt, Andromeda Tonks.

She tells me that though she and my mother never reconciled, she still considers me family and should I ever need anything her home is open to me.

I look deep in her deep sky blue eyes which are the exact color and shape of my mothers and see a profound sadness in there. She lost everything to the war and prejudice. Her only reason to live is the little bouncy Metamorphmagus on her side. Little Teddy Lupin. Child of my cousin Nymphadora and the were-wolf Remus Lupin who both died in the final battle.

"Hello little Lupin. I am Draco." I feel compelled towards the child. As he sports the Greenest eyes rivaled only by Potter's

"Hello." He smiles brightly showing off a missing tooth and then abruptly asks.

"Are you a friend of Harry's?" I look up to see Andromeda deep in conversation with Minister Shacklebolt.

"I wanted to be, but he didn't." I say smiling sadly. His green eyes are now shining like emeralds. But he looks puzzled.

"Why?" he is searching my face thoroughly.

"I don't know, maybe I said something silly." I shrug.

"But you are sad. Everyone says silly things when they are sad."

Yes they do little Lupin, everyone says silly things when they are Sad and feel rejected. To think I just exchanged almost sincere, in strained pleasantries with the reason Potter can't stand me long enough to grant me false condolences. It's ironic.

"It's okay Little Lupin. I have plenty of other friends." I assure the child who is now looking at me even more intently.

"Then why are you sad?" he insists

"Because my mother died and I couldn't be there." I answer simply.

"Oh, My mother also died when I was a baby, I couldn't be there either. I don't remember her but I have pictures of her. Would you like to see them? you can show me yours too." He looks hopeful and I realize that I have never talked to a child for so long.

"Sure, little Lupin." I smile at his excitement.

I tell Aunt Andromeda that she is welcome at the Manor always along with Teddy. I assure her that I have every intention of mending the fences. I signal the House-elves to start serving the refreshments that are arranged in the back yard of the Ceremonial hall which faces a beautiful artificial Lake my ancestors made. I take my leave as graciously as I can.

"I have spoken with the Daily Prophet correspondent and also the Wizardly Wireless. They requested an interview as soon as possible, I have given them the day after tomorrow. Is that acceptable Lord Malfoy?" Montague is most satisfactorily studious. I watch the crowd being led by the house elves towards served refreshment.

"Yes Solicitor Montague, I believe the sooner we deal with it all, the better. I would like to see you at supper so we can discuss what I am going to be saying to the Minister tomorrow." I find myself telling him as I make my way out of the Ceremonial Hall. The whole event has taxed on my nerves. Perhaps it is the fact that I am not used to sport attention of so many people all at once anymore. Also it has been a while since I have suppressed my magic for a while.

I have to admit that the whole thing has gone better than I was expecting and I grudgingly have Weasley and Granger to thank for that. Apparently who ever the Golden couple accepts the general crowd accepts too. Their welcoming smiles and friendly gestures set the tone for the rest of the crowd. A suggestive charm might have also had something to do with it, with a simple command to not ask questions I felt compelled not to answer. So whilst people offered condolences and respects and expected shock at my return, no one outright ask me the obvious questions.

Where have you been Malfoy? Why did you lead everyone to believe that you were dead? Why weren't you here for your father's death? What did you have to do with Fenrir Greyback? Why has your Dark Mark not killed you yet?

I walk uphill swiftly. I can simply apparate inside the manor, but something compels me to take a walk. For the first time I feel my formal robes confining me. Questions, questions…

'When?' they will ask and I would answer 'An hour from sunset, on the eve of the final battle."

'Why?' They will ask me and I would answer 'I was taken by Greyback by force and had no choice. Greyback always had his eye on me, and caught me in the first wave of the attack.'

'How?' They will ask me how I escaped and I would answer 'Greyback's ritual was cut short when Voldemort died finally, I myself was severely hit by the magical backlash, so as soon as Greyback fell, I in my scrambled mind apparated away accidentally and ended up in another country with no memories.'

Yes, that will do perfectly and if they decide to investigate they would find evidence supporting my story.

But the real answers to these questions?

I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I walk towards the wrought-iron gate. Trying to relax. Uncoil.

I should have been more careful, I think a moment later as I feel the point of a wand poking my throat stopping me in my tracks effectively.

"What was the spell I attacked you with in the Sixth year in the Boy's bathroom?" Asks a stern and angry enough voice. I open my eyes to find myself dangerously close to green ones.

"Sectumsempra and it was in the Girl's lavatory on the second floor." I simply answer before sneering.

I think it's my sneer, more than my answer that convinces him, but still some shadow of suspicion remains in those brilliant eyes. The warmth is over-whelming me.

"Where did we meet for the first time Malfoy?" he spits out the name as if it has a foul taste. Well, I can give as good as I get.

"At Madame Malkin's Potter!" I spit back at him. "Now I should have known that you will still be stupid enough to ignore the fact that the Blood wards of the Manor would not allow in an imposter, even a Polyjuiced one in, but as it is, I will make sure I remedy my misinformation." I loom over him trying to emphasize on the inch i have on him in height, as his wand is still poking the side of my throat. I expect him to hex me any moment. Instead those eyes start to smile, before the whole face morphs to lines of amusement and he starts chuckling.

"It really is you." he says, his face becoming somber again as he steps away from me and brings down his wand. I am too mesmerized to say anything in words so I just nod.

"I am sorry for your loss." He says quietly, but there is now something else burning in those eyes.

"Thankyou." I answer solemnly. I notice that he doesn't try to put his hand forward for a shake.

"Real or no Malfoy, remember this…" he steps closer again. I wish he would stop doing that.

"I don't trust you, I can't be bribed and I still hate you. So I will be watching you. Very closely. I had no reservations in defending you when I thought you were dead, as it is, you were not, what you were in fact is what you have always been, a coward, who ran away from the war when the going got tough. And above everything, I hate cowards. One step out of line and I swear you will regret the day you decided to come back."

While his words slash and cut through me somewhere deep inside, I am numb to the pain. Oh I will feel it later, when I will replay this moment a hundred times in my head, but right now he is too close. He smells of honey almonds and cinnamon. I can feel his breath on my face with every sharp, dagger-like word that comes out of his mouth. I remain in a trance until he steps away again and something on the lapel of his robes catch my eye. He is wearing an onyx and silver brooch, with a skull a wand and three ravens. A crest I would recognize anywhere. Black family crest. Potter is Lord Black?

"Have a good day Malfoy." He says as he steps further away and into the apparition point where he turns gracefully on his feet and disapparates into the sunlight and with him takes all the warmth that is necessary for a living being.

I tremble, feeling quite dead.

Bloody Potter!

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The Principle of Sympathy