Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What Remains	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6084 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author's note: First of all, my apologies for the delay. I had wanted to post this sooner, but I only just finished it now *winces* This chapter was equally as hard to write as the previous ones.
Thanks to the following reviewers: ANON and ANON (Make-up would only be able to hide the scar on his right cheek, but not the ones on his forehead and left cheek. The magic in the potion causes the scars to be permanent, so Muggle tools wouldn't be of much help)
Warnings: angst; foul language; reference to torture; slight panic attack in the beginning
I hope you'll like it!
Part 5
"I'm going with you," Draco announced and his jaw was clenched as he glared at the short message.
Harry for his part remained frozen in front of the table, like he had been hit with the Body Bind Curse. Kingsley hadn't specified about whom he was talking about, but he could only mean one person when he had sent this particular message.
His attacker.
After nearly two months of no news they had managed to catch him. Had the man spontaneously surrendered or had they found a clue which led to the man in question? When Harry had left the office last Friday, he hadn't been informed about any progress in the case. Then again, it wasn't like many Aurors deigned to speak to him anymore.
He should be happy now. Or no, maybe not really happy, but at the very least relieved. Instead terror, unlike anything he had ever felt before, swept over him, taking residence inside him and he was only vaguely aware of how fast his breathing had become, how it was becoming harder to breathe, feeling like he would never get enough air and that only made the terror stronger; his vision narrowing as black spots started to dance in front of him.
"…ry. …rry. …arry! HARRY!"
Two strong hands were wrapped firmly around his biceps, squeezing him slightly, and he lurched forwards, gasping for air as if he had just been drowning.
"I've got you, you're okay, you're safe," Draco muttered; the tight grip around Harry's arms leaving him before arms cradled him closer and hands started rubbing his back soothingly. Blond hair and pale, smooth skin obscured his vision when Draco urged his face into the older man's neck. "Nothing's going to happen, I'm here. You're okay; everything is all right. You're safe."
Over and over Draco kept muttering words of reassurance in Harry's ear; strong hands never faltering in their journey over Harry's back. The low timbre of Draco's voice made him sink into a daze, his thoughts quietening for once, and his breathing slowed down, synching up with that of the blond man as his own fingers clutched into Draco's shirt, bunching up the cloth.
Eventually Draco's voice trailed off, leaving them in silence with only the ticking of the kitchen clock disturbing the peace.
With a start Harry realised this was the first time since the attack that they were touching each other so intimately again. He tensed at the knowledge that Draco could definitely feel his scars now and he made a move to remove himself out of Draco's arms.
"Don't." Draco's voice was quiet but firm and Harry stilled, keeping his face averted as he held his breath. Draco's sigh made his hair ruffle and arms tightened around him, one hand resting on the swell of his arse and the other on his lower back; heavy like a brand. "Just … don't. This is okay."
Harry remained silent, not sure whether he could trust his voice to work.
The hand on his lower back disappeared only to find purchase in his neck where a thumb started rubbing over his pulse. "Are you feeling up to going to the Ministry?" Draco inquired softly. "If you don't want to, you don't have to go. Everyone would understand."
Harry knew Kingsley wouldn't mind if he refused to go to the Ministry now. The interrogation would proceed without and later on his superior would brief him about it. All it would take would be Harry sending back a reply that he wasn't coming. And Merlin, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to be confronted by his attacker, didn't want to hear the reason why he had decided to throw that potion over his face. He had encouraged victims in his cases to confront their attacker, so that they could close off that painful part in their life, but he himself recoiled from the thought of coming face to face with his attacker.
He was afraid of what he would hear, of what he would see if he finally laid eyes upon his mysterious assailant. He wanted nothing to do with the bastard who had ruined his life.
Yet, he realised that if he wanted to have a chance at gaining some normalcy back he needed to be there during the interrogation. If he didn't go now, a part of him would always wonder why exactly he had been targeted and it would haunt him for the rest of his life.
If he didn't attend the interrogation would that make him a coward or a hypocrite? How could he tell victims that they needed to face their assaulter for their own good if he couldn't bring himself to do it?
"Harry?"
Draco's voice dragged him out the maelstrom that were his thoughts now and he started, becoming aware of the stinging pain in his hands. When he glanced down, he saw that his fingernails were pressing into the palms of his hands, leaving crescent moon shaped indents behind when he unfurled his fingers.
Grey eyes regarded him intently when he chanced a look. "You okay?"
A sigh left the dark haired man and when he took a step back this time Draco let him go. "Not really," Harry admitted with a grimace; his stomach cramping severely when his eyes landed on the message. "But – let's go."
"You're sure you want to go?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not convinced. "You can still - "
"No, I – I need to do this." Harry licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair; agitation warring with fear. "I – let's just get this over with, okay?"
"Okay," Draco said soothingly and his hand enveloped Harry's; their fingers entwining. "I'll be with you the entire time, all right?"
Harry's nod was rather jerky and his legs felt like rubber when they made their way to the fireplace. Draco took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the flames, which flared up wildly and turned a poisonous green. Somehow they managed to step into the hearth at the same time and Draco called out firmly, "Phoenix Office!"
Green filled Harry's vision, various rooms spinning past, but he only focused on the hand around his own, which currently felt like the only thing keeping him grounded. Draco's hand was also the one thing keeping him upright when he stumbled out of the fireplace, stubbing his toe against the slightly raised stone in front of the hearth. One would think he would remember that particular stone after Flooing into his office many times already; he would never become a pro at Flooing it seemed.
"Harry!" Ron appeared in the doorway, looking both surprised and concerned. He was only wearing an old sweater and trousers, proving that he had only just arrived. "I got Kingsley's message," he continued, casting a quick glance at Draco, who studiously ignored him.
"Did – did they start the interrogation?" Harry questioned, brushing some soot of his trousers in an attempt to keep his one hand busy. Draco refused to let go of him, but for once he didn't mind.
"No, he was waiting for your reply." A frown marred Ron's face. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"No, but I have to," Harry answered honestly and his stomach flipflopped; nerves quickly assaulting him once more. He just hoped he wouldn't start throwing up.
Ron nodded, comprehension flashing across his face before he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Let's go then. Kingsley is waiting. Anna-Beth and Nicolas are going to interrogate him, but we can listen in the next room."
"I'll be with you the whole time," Draco murmured reassuringly and squeezed Harry's hand softly.
The dark haired man nodded and silently followed Ron out of the office, Draco following closely behind him. It being Sunday, there were only a couple of other Aurors present on the floor and none of them looked up when the three men passed their offices, too wrapped up in their own work. Harry was grateful for that; he wasn't in the mood to fend off any questions.
There were three interrogation rooms on this floor and five others below it, but Ron didn't open the door to go downstairs, so they had kept his attacker on the same floor as their offices.
Ron halted before the last interrogation room which had two doors: one leading to the actual room where they questioned suspects and witnesses and the second one opening to a small room adjacent to the first one. This small room was meant for listening in on the conversations going on in the interrogation room. People in the first room couldn't look into the small room, but the people in the latter one could watch the proceedings in the first one through a one way glass. Sometimes the small room was also used for victims to point out their attacker if the Aurors had to round up some potential suspects. The one way glass offered a form of protection for the victim, ensuring that their attacker couldn't reach them because they didn't know their victim was in the other room.
Ron opened the door of the small room and gestured that Harry had to go inside first. Draco slipped in behind him and Ron entered the room as last, closing the door behind him.
Kingsley was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Harry," he greeted and spared a small smile. "I'm glad you came."
Harry exhaled slowly and forced himself to approach the glass. "Did they start already?" When he looked through the glass, however, he saw nothing but an empty room; a table and three chairs the only things filling the space.
"No, I told them to start at five thirty to give you some time to get here," Kingsley replied and nodded to Draco and Ron. "Good evening."
"Is it okay if Draco stays here?" Harry inquired and unwillingly he squeezed Draco's hand tighter; trepidation filling him. Ron wouldn't be a problem, considering Kingsley had messaged him as well, but he probably hadn't expected Draco to join them.
"That's not a problem," Kingsley answered calmly.
"Not like I would have left you even if it had been a problem," Draco muttered underneath his breath. Only the close proximity between the two of them had allowed Harry to hear that remark and he shot the blond a weak smile.
Ron suddenly straightened and came to linger in front of the glass next to Draco. "They're bringing him in," he announced abruptly and Harry's heart skipped a beat.
His heartbeat loud in his ears, Harry stared through the glass and watched how the door of the interrogation room swung open, revealing Nicolas entering first. His ash-blond hair glinted in the light and a frown marred his forehead when he turned around and impatiently beckoned the next person inside; his wand clearly visible and trained on the other one. The next person to enter the room was –
His attacker.
White noise filled his ears as he stared at the man who had ruined his face for the rest of his life. The man wasn't anything remarkable; he had short, dark brown hair parted in the middle and light brown eyes which were slightly narrowed at Nicolas. He was wearing a simple white shirt and black trousers and his hands were bound together with magic supressing handcuffs. He shuffled to the table and sank down on the chair, scowling at the floor.
He looked so normal. Someone you could pass by on the street and never look twice at him; someone who could be that neighbour you exchange greetings with but aren't close to. There wasn't anything remarkable or special about him.
Harry didn't know what he had expected to see. He had never spent much time trying to imagine how his attacker looked like. During the attack he hadn't seen his face and afterwards he had tried to avoid remembering that evening.
Yet, he hadn't expected the other wizard to appear so normal and that normalcy threw him off guard, struck him in a way he hadn't anticipated. Had he expected his attacker to look more like some of the Death Eaters he had rounded up, like Fenrir? People who instantly gave off the vibe that they couldn't be trusted, that they were supporters of the dark side? Perhaps. Having his attacker look so normal, like any other person walking on the streets …
It unsettled him deeply.
When he forced himself to focus back on the scene unfolding in the other room, he noticed that Anna-Beth had joined the two men in the room; her dark blonde hair tied together in a high ponytail swinging back and forth when she sat down next to Nicolas.
"You have two options," Nicolas started flatly. "Either you cooperate and answer our questions truthfully or we will give you Veritaserum. Do you understand?"
The man nodded surly.
"Good. Is your name Francis Greenling?" Anna-Beth inquired politely.
"Yes," the man, Francis, replied shortly.
"Are you the one who attacked Auror Harry Potter with the Acidus Perpetuus potion on Friday evening the twentieth of January?" she questioned, her light blue eyes regarding Francis sharply.
Francis didn't answer and instead looked away.
"Answer the question!" Nicolas barked and his wand sparked green.
Eyeing the wand warily, Francis answered with a sneer, "Why ask me when you're already sure I did it?"
Anna-Beth leant forwards; her eyes narrowing dangerously. "We can do it the easy or the hard way, Francis, it's your choice. Are you going to answer the question or not?"
"Yes, I did it, okay?!" Francis snapped and an ugly flush spread out over his cheeks and nose.
"Care to explain why you did it?" Nicolas questioned coolly; his wand idly tapping against the edge of the table.
Francis clenched his jaw and the glare he threw the two Aurors could have set the table on fire.
Nicolas let out a soft sigh, leaning back in his chair. "You know, it's not like we really need your confession," he started conversationally. "We have three witnesses willing to testify that they saw you buy the ingredients and another witness stating that they heard you ranting about Harry Potter, proclaiming you wanted to take revenge. We also found the flask you poured the potion in and it contained enough residue for our Potion Masters to declare which potion was in it. Your alibi of that time also doesn't match the one your wife gave us. All in all, we have enough evidence to bring you before the judge."
"Judges tend to be more favourably inclined towards people who confess willingly, though," Anna-Beth took over; her smile as sharp as that of a shark. "So really you would be mostly helping yourself out if you confess everything now."
"As if the judge will let me off easily," Francis sneered. "Everyone is fucking biased when it comes to Potter!"
"That's your opinion." Nicolas shrugged. "We figured you wanted your story out in the open. Here's your chance. Aren't you dying to tell us how you managed to attack Auror Potter?"
"I guess not, Nicolas," Anna-Beth snorted, idly twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. "I mean, wanting to take revenge on Potter isn't that special, you know? Not even original, considering Potter deals with - "
"He fucking deserved it!" Francis shouted and slammed his hands down on the table.
Anna-Beth and Nicolas quietened, eyeing the heavily breathing man warily.
"And why did he deserve it?" Nicolas asked softly, leaning forwards. "Hm? What did he do to you that he deserved to be attacked with that potion?"
Francis laughed harshly. "It wasn't about what he did to me! I did it for my sister!"
"Your sister?" Anna-Beth raised an eyebrow.
"My sister was only eighteen years old when Death Eaters came to her house," Francis hissed and his eyes were ablaze with old pain and fury. "They knew she specialised in developing spells and they wanted to use her to create new curses for the war. My sister refused of course and fought with them. But she was alone and they were with five." He made a choking sound and tears started brimming in his eyes. "They – they tortured her. F-for hours. They left her there to die. My mum was the one who found her! If she – if she had been even a minute later, my little sister would have been dead!"
"I'm sorry for what your sister has been through," Anna-Beth said softly and there was a hint of sympathy in her voice. "Nobody deserves to go through that. But I can't comprehend what all this has to do with Auror Potter. He wasn't the one who tortured your sister. In face it's thanks to him that - "
"My sister relives that fucking day over and over again!" Francis snarled and his eyes were nearly bugging out; his entire face a deep red. "She doesn't dare to go outside anymore; she hasn't left her house since she came back from the hospital. She barely sleeps anymore, barely eats! She isn't the sister anymore that I grew up with! She's just a fucking shell. If Potter had been faster, if he had ended the war sooner than he did, my sister would have been fine! It's all thanks to that son of a bitch that my sister doesn't even want to be around us anymore! It's all his fucking fault! And while my sister is stuck in her house, he gets to prance around in public, acting like nothing happened?! Why does he get to be happy when my sister won't ever feel like that again? So yeah, I made that potion and threw it on him! I wanted to make him suffer, make him pay! I fucking hope he's miserable for the rest of his fucking life!"
Harry didn't hear what was said after that. Maybe Nicolas was asking more questions; maybe Anna-Beth was. It didn't matter. He knew who his attacker was now and he knew the reason why he had done it.
He felt empty.
It always came back to that goddamn war. He should have been quicker, should have been smarter, should have figured out a way to stop Voldemort sooner …
They were all quick to judge him, to tell him he should have been faster, should have been stronger, but were they the ones who had fought in the war? Were they the ones who had sacrificed their lives just so the rest of the world could live in peace? Were they the ones who had had to face death, who had to walk up to Voldemort with the knowledge that they were going to die?
He had been merely seventeen, still a teenager, and yet he had been expected to save the entire world. Everyone had looked to him to stop the war and yet they hadn't stopped to think what it would do to him to have to live with the knowledge that every day he didn't stop Voldemort was a day more where lives could be lost.
He wished he had been able to stop the war sooner. If he had, maybe then Remus would still be alive. If he had been faster, Teddy wouldn't have to grow up without his parents. If he had been quicker, people wouldn't have had to mourn their loved ones.
But he hadn't been. He had tried the best he could, but it would never be enough for some people.
There would always be ones who thought he could have been quicker, who were sure he could have done something to end the war sooner. There would always be people who blamed him for things he had no control over.
Now he was blamed for something Death Eaters had done. He would have to live the rest of his life with a disfigured face, just because one man had thought it was his fault that Death Eaters had attacked his sister.
He hadn't imprisoned anyone of this man's family; hadn't injured or killed anyone he loved during the battle. His only mistake had been to not have killed Voldemort sooner, to not have been some kind of superhero who could have ended the war with one snap of his fingers.
His only mistake was being human.
He couldn't remember leaving the room and going back to his office to Floo home. He must have done so, though, because when he became aware of his surroundings again he was standing in the living room of the house he shared with Draco, staring out of the window.
He released a broken chuckle.
"Harry?" Draco spoke softly, somewhere behind him.
"I figured it had to be someone who carried a personal grudge against me, you know?" Harry began, voice muffled as he pressed a hand against his mouth. Tears were stinging behind his eyes, but he was refusing to let them fall. "Maybe someone I had arrested before or someone whose family I had put in Azkaban or maybe even killed. But no. It's simply someone who blames me because his sister was attacked by Death Eaters." His voice gained a hysterical edge near the end of his sentence. "My face is fucked up because someone was mad I couldn't stop the war sooner!"
"Your face isn't fucked up, Harry," Draco refuted strongly and he strode towards the dark haired man, appearing in his line of sight. "They are scars; your face is not fucked up."
Harry stared at him in disbelief, lowering his hand. "Draco, my entire face is messed up! Look at me! There's nothing left of m- "
"I'm looking at you," Draco interrupted him and his voice was soft but steadfast and Harry shut up. "And you know what I see? I see someone who managed to live through a horrible attack. Someone who despite what life throws at him keeps going, keeps fighting and refuses to give up. I see a stubborn, beautiful man who I lost my heart to years ago. Someone who gave me a second chance despite the shit I put him through."
He stepped closer until there was only a few inches left between them and framed Harry's cheeks lovingly, carefully. His thumbs caressed Harry's cheekbones as he lowered his face until Harry could do nothing but look straight into loving, soft grey eyes. "I look at you and I see the man I love," Draco murmured and then for the first time in nearly two months, their lips found each other again, pressing softly against each other.
A kiss full of tenderness, full of love and longing.
Green eyes closed and despite the hint of salt as tears wettened his cheeks, Harry didn't think he had ever tasted a kiss this sweet.
AN2: I'll be honest, guys: I don't feel very confident about the last scene. My main concern is that I went too fast, which I hope I didn't, but well, I guess I'll let you be the judge of that *winces*
That being said, this last scene doesn't mean that everything is perfect now. I guess you could say this is sort of a reprieve before it becomes difficult again. But once more: this story will have a happy ending. We just have to go through the dark parts to reach it.
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I see you all in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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What Remains