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Ethereal Desire	By : Etherea Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
�I�m sorry, Mr

Author: Etherea.

Rating: M (Slight
Sexual connotations and Foul Language; nothing unbearable.)

Disclaimer: I certainly
don�t own anything related to the Harry Potter Universe. So please, don�t sue.

Author Note: Hello, you
guys! So here it is! After such a long wait, the fifth instalment
of Ethereal Desire is finally up. I�m so, so sorry for making you guys wait so
long; this is a very emotional, very complex chapter. It took forever to get
right, and still I don�t think it is as good as I would have liked! Oh, well :S Thanks to Enchant for Beta-ing this!

��

Ethereal Desire

Chapter Five

The Light Shines Through

It was as if
some Deity had suddenly stopped Time. Everybody was frozen in their spots, eyes
as wide as plates and mouths gaping like stranded fish, staring at the imposing
figure that had just appeared out of the blue in the courtroom as if the old
man were some sort of apparition; although, this reaction was seriously a small
wonder.

To the utmost
astonishment of all the souls crowding the tribunal, the ancient wizard started
walking towards the defendant in a regal, smooth pace; his long silver hair and
beard nearly sweeping the floor. Inside the courtroom, one could�ve heard a pin
drop; even the journalists seemed to have been hit by Petrificus Totalis, and some of them had even dropped their quills
and magical cameras in their surprise. What
is Albus Dumbledore doing here? was the thought on
everyone�s minds, but everybody was too shocked to voice it out loud. For the moment, anyway.

Dumbledore made
his confident way towards one quite-nonplussed Draco Malfoy; people parting
like the Red Sea to let him pass. He stopped
in front of the Malfoy Heir, who looked at him with complete disbelief etched
on his marred face; his stormy-grey eyes blinking repeatedly in his silent
bewilderment. The old wizard merely put both his hands on the blonde�s
shoulders and smiled a summer�s day smile at him.

�I�m very sorry
I�m late, my boy. Traffic was quite hectic,� he said in a conspiratorial voice
as he gave the stunned young wizard a playful wink. He then took out his wand
from his inner robe pocket and waved it casually in front of Draco, who winced
visibly as if expecting a jinx. Immediately, the shackles vanished with a
�puff� of golden smoke, right at the same time a tiny shriek escaped Draco�s
lips -which he hated himself horribly for-. The phoenix was still perched on
his shoulder, and to Draco�s continued incredulity, it started ruffling his
long, slick hair; releasing soft, soothing notes in his ear -as if trying to
reassure him that everything would be alright- that filled him with a wave of
renewed hope and strength. Draco found himself offering a tiny smile to the
magnificent bird, who he now guessed was no other than the legendary Fawkes.
Dumbledore for his part, noticing the small gesture, winked one more time at
Draco, which the blond responded to with a wary gaze as he rubbed the red marks
on his wrists.

�Er� I suppose
thanks are in order?� Draco said in a cautious tone; his eyes searching the old
wizard�s lined face intently for some clue as to what was happening. Dumbledore
chuckled softly.

�Not yet, my
boy,� he replied. �First, let�s do something about that petty rash on your
face, shall we?� he said, his amused tone never faltering. He waved his wand
once more, a blue-green mist coming out of its tip, and Draco could tell by the
cool, fresh tingle now spreading all over his face that the awful blisters were
gone. Out of its own volition, his hand flew towards his cheek, stroking the
once more soft, flawless skin. He let escape a sharp sigh of relief, pointedly
ignoring the old coot�s apparently perpetual genial grin.

�Wait a minute,
Dumbledore!� growled Luton, who had managed to
push and shoulder his way through the mass of catatonic people to where the
defendant and the Headmaster stood. �You can�t just waltz in here, flaunting your power, and freeing the prisoners as
if you were the Minister himself! Weasley, Finnegan, cast those bloody charms
again!� he said angrily, scowling at the two young Aurors who -to the
prosecutor�s wrath- didn�t move an inch, traumatized as they were by their
idol�s actions towards the insufferable git, Draco Malfoy.

�Ah, yes, yes,
Mr. Luton; you�re quite right,� Dumbledore said indulgently, turning to regard
the irate prosecutor with a content expression on his face, as if Luton
weren�t, in fact, glaring fiery darts in his direction. �I am not the Minister
nor am I allowed to free the �prisoners�, as you call them, but I am Chief
Warlock of this fine institution, and it is within my power and responsibility to appeal to any injustice as I see
fit; which I�m afraid, seems to be the case with young Mr. Malfoy here. I�m
sure Ignatius won�t mind hearing what I have to say this fine morning?� he
said, addressing his question to the old wizard at the presidium, his twinkling
blue eyes shining with amusement. Draco �not quite understanding Dumbledore�s
behaviour but still very grateful for his sudden appearance- glanced inconspicuously
at the spot Luton had occupied just moments ago, and saw the creepy creature
that was the Dementor hovering restlessly in the small hallway beyond the
special door. He hoped Dumbledore�s powers of persuasion would prove to be as
infallible as they were supposed to be.

�Not at all, Albus, not at all! I was
wondering if you would show up, to tell the truth,� the warlock said, smiling
back at Dumbledore with a knowing gleam in his eyes. �Now, come where I can hear
you properly; not all of us possess those youthful qualities of yours! Mr.
Malfoy, you too, please,� he added, waving aside the inaudible yet continuous
comments of the snotty witch sitting beside him as if she were a bothersome fly
invading his personal space. Dumbledore�s blue eyes twinkled
even more, if that was possible, and Draco couldn�t help but wonder if it was
because of the indignation clearly portrayed on the Pig�s face or because of
the offended �Hmph!� the old witch had just uttered, or both. Either way, his
appreciation for the old batty wizard increased somewhat, but �just for the
record- not much, just... enough.

Dumbledore gave
a tiny nod, and signalled for him to move along to the front of the court,
where the Wizengamot wizards were seated, once again submerged in their
argument -the old warlock he now assumed was �Ignatius� was visibly scolding
his colleagues for their remarks- at the presidential table.

The shock was
quickly starting to wear off all across the tribunal, and the flashes of
magical cameras, the scratches of quills, the whispers, and the murmurs started
all over again. The people who had stood up to leave had hurriedly taken their
seats once more, eager to know what was going to happen with this new �and
quite entertaining, no doubt- development. At the media box, the journalists
had resumed the live broadcasting; their frenzied muttering filling the
courtroom like the buzz made by hundreds of bees at work.

The Hogwarts�
Headmaster stopped just in front of the presidium, with Draco standing on his
right side.

�Ignatius, I
have in my possession two very important items that can validate Mr. Malfoy�s
innocence,� Dumbledore spoke affably but firmly. �The first is a memory of
mine; a memory of Narcissa Black, Mr. Malfoy�s late mother, giving a
declaration on her son�s special activities during the war, under Veritaserum,
a few months before her passing. The second is a memory she provided herself,
which I haven�t seen yet and which she said would help clarify a few things
should her declaration prove to be insufficient. It was her wish that I�d present such items
only if the need arose, which I regret to say, it has.�

The low murmur
filling the tribunal intensified, but nobody dared to raise their voice further
than a whisper. At Dumbledore�s side, Draco remained eerily quiet; his mercury
eyes purposely set somewhere over the old warlock�s shoulder.

�Mr. Fernin,
pardon my rudeness, but you are not seriously considering believing this
preposterous story? Draco Malfoy committed perjury before this court! That�s
enough reason to put him behind bars!� Luton
exclaimed, incensed, staring at the Wizengamot�s Chief Warlock with
wild-looking eyes. It seemed he didn�t like having his victory ripped away so
blatantly by someone who he obviously considered a meddlesome human relic.

�Young Malfoy
may have omitted some truths,
Ignatius, but I�m sure that if he did so, he had his own good reasons,�
Dumbledore replied, apparently oblivious to Luton�s
presence and his rather vicious scowl. �However, if you will be so kind as to
accept this small piece of evidence, I�m quite sure you won�t be disappointed,�
he added matter-of-factly.

�I�m afraid that
Mr. Luton is absolutely right, Dumbledore,� the snotty witch spoke for the
first time; her voice reminiscent of the screech made by corroded hinges.
�Perjury is a serious offence. Nobody has ever dared to lie inside this
tribunal since the end of the war. I personally think that Draco Malfoy has
proved his worth,� she finished, performing a dismissive gesture with her
wrinkled, bejewelled hand that indicated just how very keen she was to be
finished with this nonsense.

The audience
exploded in conflicting exclamations; there were some �That�s
right!�s� and some �Let Dumbledore speak!�s� amongst the more subdued whispers and murmurs.

�I agree with
Lucretia, Ignatius; Mr. Malfoy had his chance to speak and he lied, or... �omitted some truths�, as Dumbledore put it. If
this had been a trial, his sentence wouldn�t have been so kind, which I personally
think it is,� said the wizard sitting at the left end of the table in a deep,
gruff voice as he addressed the Wizengamot�s Chief Wizard; his thick cindery
moustache quivering comically with each word he said. He nudged the other
Wizengamot warlock sitting on his left side �a very old-looking man wearing a
maroon hat, who had remained strangely immobile throughout the hearing- with
his elbow, to which the old wizard reacted to by nodding his head and saying �I
second that!� in a raspy, startled tone. Apparently, the old man wasn�t dead,
like Draco had thought; he had just been sleeping with his eyes open the whole
time.

�My dear
colleagues, all I�m asking for is for you to examine these memories; in public,
if you so wish,� Dumbledore said calmly, his content expression never leaving
his face. �I give you my word that I won�t insist any further should you reach
the same conclusion after you do; which I must say, I highly doubt.�

�Well, Albus, if you believe that...�

�Mr. Fernin, the
sentence has already been passed! This hearing is officially over!� Luton exclaimed, interrupting the warlock�s sentence; his
shiny face turning an alarming shade of purple.

�Once again,
you�re right, Mr. Luton. We must follow the procedures, Dumbledore. If you want
to appeal to our sentence, you must follow the regulations,� the snotty witch,
Lucretia, said sharply �looking pointedly at Ignatius Fernin- before she turned
again to sneer at the Headmaster. �Besides, you always seem so keen on helping
Death Eaters, Dumbledore. Isn�t this the same stunt you pulled at Severus
Snape�s trial?�

The audience
stirred once more and Draco felt his heart jump into his throat. Did that mean
that not even Dumbledore could save him now? Wasn�t he supposed to be� omnipotent or something? To their right,
Luton was smirking with grotesque delight, and
the blond felt another rush of hatred towards the disgusting man.

Pig.

�I�m not keen of
Death Eaters, Lucretia. I�m just keen of helping the innocent.� There was the
slightest hint of a threat in Albus� voice; which the old witch didn�t seem to
like one bit as her face turned into the same dramatic, offended expression she
had worn only moments earlier, when Ignatius had told her to �shut her old
trap�.

�With all due
respect, sirs, madam; I think you should oblige Dumbledore�s request. All that
matters in this room is justice, not procedures, after all. Isn�t this ideal of
equity what drives our world today?� somebody said loudly from somewhere behind
them. Draco couldn�t help but turn sharply towards the voice... just like every
other person in the tribunal.

Harry Potter was
standing amongst the audience near the prosecutor�s dock. His face was deadly
serious, almost stoical, and his posture was confident and powerful. He glanced
for the most fleeting of moments at Draco, his emerald eyes shining with
resolution behind those ridiculous glasses, and the Slytherin felt a long
shiver running up and down his spine before he realized the moment was gone.
�Please,� the raven-haired wizard added shortly; his voice not a demand, but
not a plea, either.

Some of the
attendees reacted loudly to the brazen interruption, and the reporters took
this newest intervention of Potter�s as their cue for more chartbuster
commentary. Practically oblivious to the bedlam started anew, Draco could only
stare at Harry, utterly baffled, and yes, somewhat... glad.

But also terribly, terribly preoccupied.

Besides �no,
scratch that; apart from- Severus
Snape �who, as a matter of fact, Draco hadn�t been able to find anywhere in the
courtroom as of yet - nobody had ever stood by him like this, and Draco was
finding himself quite puzzled by the raven-haired Auror�s actions. Draco couldn�t
understand Potter�s game. What was he playing at? Why was he acting so
sympathetic towards him all of the sudden? It wasn�t the first, or the second,
but the third time Potter had
defended him in the course of two hours -if he had listened correctly when
Potty and the Weasel were arguing moments ago, of course-. Why would Potter do
something like that, appealing for him, a �supposed� criminal, in front of a
tribunal full of his adoring fans, openly defying his superiors? Surely Potter
wouldn�t want them to brand him a traitor; now, would he?

Was it that
Potter really thought he was innocent, that Draco had never been a Death Eater?
Was it that Harry Potter actually believed
him?

No. It can�t be. You saw his face, Draco! He looked at
you with the same contempt as the others whilst he cast those binding charms.
He�s just playing with you. It�s all part of his game�

Unbidden,
memories came rushing to Draco�s mind as if his own thoughts had triggered
them; as if their only purpose was to contradict him. A memory of a soft,
worried voice that he had recognized in a split second as he laid sprawled,
suffering on a bathroom floor, asking if he was alright. A memory of honest
emerald eyes flashing with hurt when Draco snapped back at them as it was so
customary, so easy when it came down to him and Harry Potter. A memory of
Harry�s face, confused and offended, when he had accused him of hexing him�

No. Potter doesn�t�It�s all a trick. It�s all part of
his plan, getting me all worked-up like this. He�s just playing with me�

�Why would Harry Potter hex you, Draco?�
Severus� voice suddenly repeated inside his head.

Because� Because he hates me; because I hate him, replied Draco to the echo, trying to silence the disturbing
thoughts. This was pointless. Why was he even thinking about it?

�You are
not using that pretty head of yours��

I am
using my head! That�s why I can see how
completely insane this whole�mental monologue is! There�s nothing to dwell on; nothing
to render one ounce of my attention to! Potter is the least of my worries right
now!

Then again, as if mocking
him, another memory of Harry Potter crossed his mind: the Hero up against the
tiled wall of the bathroom; his cheeks flushed and his breathing ragged; his
jade eyes shining with challenge, and passion, and�

Just like in those
visions...

No! This is ridiculous! You�re not thinking about this! I forbid you! Get a grip, goddamn it! His
inner voice was starting to sound desperate.

�You�re not putting matters in perspective; you�re not looking from the
right angles...�

What other angles are there to look from?, snapped Draco at his
godfather�s voice; trying to ignore that, even inside his head, his voice was
faltering, sounding weak and uncertain. Unexpectedly, that red bulb started
blinking again somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, and suddenly, there
he was, Harry Potter, standing before his mind�s eye; his old school robes
flapping in the wind and his lips turned into a mischievous smile, telling him
the words Draco had once thrown at him, although not quite the same:

�Are you scared, Draco?�

What!? What�s the matter
with you, Potter? Why would I..?

But before Draco
could respond to Potter�s question in kind, the image vanished, just like the
others; leaving only uncertainty and that all too familiar feeling of wrongness
in its wake.

�Ahem,� Dumbledore coughed subtlety beside
him, nudging his elbow �accidentally� as he appeared to fumble for something
inside his robe pocket. Draco resurfaced into reality, realising just then that
he had been staring at Potter all this time. He turned swiftly to the front
again, inwardly mortified. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore
regarding him with a curious expression on his face, and Draco had the strange
feeling that the old coot knew exactly what he had been thinking about� not
that he believed in any of those pathetic stories about the Headmaster of
Hogwarts, mind you. Annoyed, he willed himself to the �here� and the �now� once
more, but to his further irritation, his mind was still resonating with
Potter�s words:

�Are you scared, Draco?�

And the thing was that he didn�t know anymore.

��

Severus Snape
made his way to the front of the courtroom as inconspicuously as he could
through one of the side aisles, which was proving to be rather difficult with
so many people on the look-out for new surprises. Damn the old man! He could
have shown up the moment Severus had triggered the signal -saving the three of
them not just a few inconveniences- but no; the great Albus Percival Dumbledore
had to create as much kerfuffle as he could; anything less would simply not be
�inspiring� enough. What was that the Headmaster always said? Oh, right: �One must always wait for the opportune
moment�. Well, if he had waited another five seconds for his bloody moment
the questionable Ralph Luton and a Dementor would now be escorting his godson
to Azkaban Prison. It wasn�t paranoia on his part that Barty Crouch Jr.�s
incident came to mind as a possibility.

Insufferable,
crazy wizard. No wonder he�s a Gryffindor!

The
Potions Master finally reached a part of the audience closer to the Presidium without
actually stepping beyond the balustrade and took the last vacant seat on that
side of the courtroom: one placed near the wall, from where it was practically
impossible to see what was going on at the front. He could see part of Albus�
unmistakable purple robes between the mass of people but not even a glimpse of
his godson, which he regretted; he wanted to be able to see Draco�s response to
everything that was going on. Once again, damn the old man! If he hadn�t sent
Severus to the Department of Magical Transport on the sixth level to get a
legal Portkey to the Headmaster�s office, he could have found himself a better
seat. It wasn�t as if the obnoxious wizard ever cared about breaking the rules
where Portkeys were concerned� Although, Severus suddenly thought, perhaps it
was best not to stretch their luck with angering the Ministry, taking the
current circumstances into consideration.

Severus
had known that the Headmaster would find some opposition from the most biased
members of the Wizengamot panel if �when,
Severus corrected himself grumpily- he made his petition for the acceptance of
the new evidence, but all-in-all, it seemed that Albus had everything under
control. In fact, Severus wasn�t the least worried about the Wizengamot�s
reaction; not with Ignatius Fernin, Dumbledore�s partner and
fellow-conspirator, sitting as Chief Warlock. Right now, he was worried about
Draco�s once the blond figured out what was going on; which, Severus knew,
wouldn�t take him long. Once again, the Potions Master cursed the old wizard
under his breath. Damn Albus and his machinations. Didn�t he tire of playing
Zeus with people�s lives?

Once more
-and this time against his wishes- Draco had found himself in the middle of a
game, and his godfather knew the blond would not like it one single bit. At
this moment, Severus was worried that Draco wouldn�t see the over all scenario
and would focus instead on the petty �Why�s and �How dare you�s. All that
remained to be seen now was if his godson would -eventually; Severus was sure of that- understand that all his
godfather and Dumbledore had in mind had been his well-being, no matter the
devious approach. But still, would he? Would Draco understand that it wasn�t a
matter of betrayal, but of using the means necessary to guarantee his safety?

All
things considered, Severus had to give it to him: the Headmaster understood the
world he lived in better than many, and knew how to play the cards to his
advantage. Were Dumbledore�s true intentions of a more �obscure� type, he certainly
would have been an unstoppable Dark Lord. Blasted old wizard.
The fact that Albus Dumbledore -who had never interacted with his godson in any
other way beyond the Headmaster-Pupil relationship- had known exactly how his
godson would react to this new threat even after Severus had �assured� him that
Draco would come around on his own terms, that they would not need to recur to
such schemes, said a lot about the old man�s immeasurable wisdom and grasp of
the most intrinsic aspects of the human nature. It had to be that, because the alternative �namely Severus being a
complete ignoramus where his godson was concerned- was a complete
disappointment to the very man that had tried to the extent of his capabilities
to be the father Draco had never had.

And -let�s face it, Severus- that stung like
Hell.

Yes;
Severus Snape had been completely certain that his �noncommittal� strategy
would be enough to push Draco against the wall and make him confess his
collaboration with the Order; but it seemed that the Headmaster hadn�t earned
his fame in vane and he did �know it all�; or knew �enough�, as the old coot
would say. The truth prevailed, though: Severus shouldn�t have underestimated
his godson�s obstinacy. The child was a Malfoy, after all.

Perhaps
Draco was right, and he was not only
getting senile, but he was also turning into an overly optimistic Hufflepuff in
the process. Or perhaps Dumbledore was just a sneaky bastard who was actually a
Slytherin in disguise. Thank Merlin the Potions Master had been cautious and
remembered to bring that blasted coin with him. That knowledge gave him some
semblance of control over the situation, but �he hated admitting it- he knew
that Albus would have showed up nevertheless; charmed coin or not.

Damn the old man for being so infuriatingly
right all the time,
Severus scowled to himself. Again.

A small
commotion started several seats to his right, just before a loud, firm voice
resonated across the tribunal. Severus craned his neck to see what was going
on, and noticed a dark-haired man in Auror robes standing amongst the audience.

Potter.

Why didn�t that surprise him?

Now, this whole
situation between Potter and Draco was quite confusing, to say the least.
Apparently, neither one of the two young wizards had the tiniest clue as to
what was going on between them, which ultimately wasn�t too surprising, knowing
who the parties involved are. Nevertheless, when he had reached that bathroom
he had been expecting to find a very... let�s say �compromising� scene; so it was
quite shocking to see the two brats at each other�s throats instead. Thank
Merlin he had gotten there in time; the Gods only knew what the consequences
would have been if they had indeed attacked each other...

In all his life,
Severus had never felt such a powerful bond. The magical energy was exuding
from the two men in waves; it had made him feel quite light-headed, to tell the
truth. He hadn�t needed to cast Revelo
Animus to know their two magical fields were intertwined, feeding on each other,
vibrating to each other�s rhythms. Animus Salutor was working its magic to
bring them together� which was a
thought Severus was still too perplexed to contemplate fully. Still, how could
they be bonded and be so unaware of the fact at the same time? Were they truly oblivious to their condition?
Draco had admitted to the symptoms, even if he hadn�t put two and two together
as of yet �either that or he didn�t want
to-. Hopefully, Severus had given him some things to think about. Potter� Well,
Potter was Potter, an enigma of megalomaniacal proportions, but it was obvious
that he wasn�t acting as he was �supposed� to towards Draco. And there was the
issue of the visions Draco had mentioned; that was an interesting development
altogether. All the same, things were moving too fast, and if his conclusions
were correct, Severus knew he had to get to the bottom of it soon, for his
godson�s sake, and yes, for Potter�s as well.

This was as good
an opportunity as any, so the Potions Master stood up from his seat and moved
amongst the audience to where Potter was, eliciting a few upset remarks from
the people in his vicinity. He reached the row behind Potter�s seat, where a
few girls were giggling behind their hands and staring adoringly at their hero,
obviously paying little to no attention to the procedures. Severus moved
further along the row, and stopped when he had reached the desired spot. He
stood before the group of girls, his dark-cloaked figure towering menacingly
over one of them -a skinny young witch with dirty-blond hair that was sitting
right behind Potter- with his nastiest look plastered on his face. The girl,
who was about to say something rude to the person clouding her view, looked
completely terrified the second she recognized who was standing before her. The
wizard mouthed the word �Move!� at her, and with a mighty squeak, she stood up
and went to share a seat with one of her friends, not waiting to be told twice;
all the while sending furtive, nervous looks in the Potions Master�s direction.

Satisfied with
his small victory, he took the seat behind the Golden Boy, who didn�t seem to
register anything going on around him except for the sight before the
Presidium. Severus leaned a bit in his newly claimed chair to get closer to
Harry, and cleared his throat before speaking to make his presence known.

�Always the
goody-two-shoes, Potter, or is this just a publicity trick?� he sneered quietly
in the young wizard�s direction. As expected, Potter turned sharply and
narrowed his green eyes when he saw who it was talking to him.

�I won�t dignify
that with an answer, Snape,� he hissed in the same low tone before returning to
his former position, his eyes focused on the scene before him, where the
Wizengamot judges were now submerged in another one of their arguments.
Severus, on the other hand, didn�t need to be a Seer to know that Potter was
not looking raptly at the judges� table, but at his godson, who most probably
would be developing acute torticollis
by the end of the hearing as he didn�t appear to be able to take his eyes off
of the obnoxious Gryffindor; but that didn�t surprise Severus, either.

�It seems that
the great Harry Potter does live up
to his fame... Although, I guess I should be grateful. Your words seem to have
persuaded the Wizengamot in Draco�s favour, after all,� the Potions Master
added; the sly smirk still plastered on his face.

�Yes, that�s
right; unlike some people�s,� Harry
retorted tartly, this time not even caring to turn in the pale man�s direction.
The Potions Master smirked even more at the opening the Auror had just given
him and leaned closer towards the chair in front of him; his thin mouth very
near the younger wizard�s ear.

�Touch�,
Potter... But tell me, why do you care what happens to Draco Malfoy, of all
people? I am quite intrigued, to tell the truth. Why did you go looking for him
this morning? Why would you speak in his name before the tribunal?� Noticing
the Auror�s suddenly stiff muscles, he moved to give the final blow, his voice
like icy velvet. �Why are you so interested
in my godson all of the sudden, Potter? And don�t lie to me; you know that
doesn�t... work very well,� he added slowly, revelling in the green-eyed
wizard�s obvious discomfort -which was enough evidence altogether, in Severus�
opinion-. However, the Boy Who Lived was saved from answering right at the last
second, as Ignatius Fernin suddenly hit the gavel and bellowed to the court:

�The Wizengamot has agreed to accept the evidence.�

The audience
exploded in murmurs one more time. In front of him, Potter leaned avidly
forward in his chair, happy to ignore Severus Snape and his rather sagacious
questions in favour of this unexpected �but still very relieving- turn of
events. Bugger, the Potions Master
thought at the sudden interruption; but he had to admit, this was more
important than getting Harry Potter all worked-up. So he leaned back in his
chair; his pitch-black eyes set on the raven-haired man in front of him.

�Doesn�t matter,
Potter; I�ll deal with you later,� Severus drawled under his breath. �Right now, the show must go on.�

And sure
enough, it did.

��

Fifteen minutes
later, three guards were placing the largest,
strangest-looking Pensieve Harry had ever seen onto a special dais right at the
front of the court. It had the same shape regular Pensieves have, decorated
with more or less the same runic symbols, but it had some sort of upturned
funnel attached at the top, like a stopper, and this funnel had a small tube
sticking out from one of its sides. Harry guessed that this small tube was
where one poured the memories into the Pensieve, but he couldn�t be sure.

The whole tribunal
was bubbling with anticipation: people were whispering animatedly to each other
-no doubt speculating about what those memories of Dumbledore�s would contain-
or staring shamelessly at the defendant, who seemed to have every God in the
heavens vouching for him. This turn of events, having the Wizengamot change a
passed sentence in favour of the accused, was certainly a first-time event in
the history of Magical Justice; Hermione would be very disappointed to know she
had missed it; a thought that made Harry suddenly wish his best friend were
right there with him. He surely needed some moral support.

At the Media
Box, the reporters hadn�t stopped their broadcast for one second, and their
continuous babble had become some sort of anaesthetized buzz in the background.
It was well past noon, thus a special permission had been granted by the Chief
Warlock to let some food vendors and their trolleys into the courtroom, so now the once glamorous tribunal looked like
some kind of indoors fair. In fact, the overall scene -the strange Pensieve at
the front, the people munching their Fairy Cakes and sipping their Butterbeers,
the magically-dimmed lights- reminded him of regular Muggle cinemas� except, of
course, that in those cinemas there weren�t Aurors guarding every entrance and
there wasn�t a photographer popping out of nowhere every two seconds to snap a
picture of some of the attendees; him included.

Nevertheless,
the whole irony of the situation was not lost on the Golden Boy of the
Wizarding World.

Harry could feel
Severus Snape�s intense gaze on the back of his neck, and it was certainly
upsetting him. He was sure that the sneaky Potions Master knew more than he was
letting on; those questions of his had been quite devious indeed. Still, the
raven-haired wizard wondered to himself, how could he have answered those
questions �in the remote assumption that he�d have wanted to answer them- when
he himself didn�t know why? Why had he run after Malfoy? Why had he been so
worried about him? Why had he defended him? Why was he feeling such strong
emotions for the haughty Slytherin? Why had he so fervently wished for a
miracle that could save him? And why, for Merlin�s beard, did he believe so
vehemently in his innocence?

Seeing the word
�Perjurer� appear on Draco�s face had been a mighty
blow for him; it had felt even worse than that time he had watched Snape�s
memories of his father. It had been the utmost disappointment mixed with pure
incredulity. For a feeble moment, Harry had toyed with the possibility that the
spell had gone wrong somehow, that it was all a mistake, but he knew the truth:
there was no way anybody could have tampered with that charm. Draco had lied,
just like Luton and every single person in
that tribunal had expected, which meant that he and his instincts had been
wrong all along. Or fooled. Or
tampered with since the beginning.

That alone had hurt more than anything.

But then, he had
seen Draco�s eyes, right when he was casting the Binding Charm on the blond. He
had looked into Draco�s piercing, grey irises -even when he had purposely told
himself not to- and he had seen something that had triggered a rush of
electricity to run through him: Draco had been� pleading, with his eyes. There
had been so many emotions reflected in those orbs in that single instant that
Harry hadn�t been able �or hadn�t wanted, he wouldn�t know now- to decipher
them. And then the blond had spoken, said only a few words, and Harry had had
to look away because he knew he couldn�t stand watching such intensity, such
desperation in those eyes of molten steel. In that moment, he had gotten so
angry with himself for being so weak; for being so na�ve, as Ginny had so
deliberately put it; for being so stupid, as Ron had so obviously suggested. He
should have known that the blond would try anything
to get out of it. He shouldn�t have looked into Malfoy�s eyes. And yet, he had;
and he had suddenly become aware, once more, that Draco�s eyes were definitely
his damnation, for in that exact moment he knew it: he simply knew that Draco was innocent. Even if
the blond had lied, or cheated, or tried to play the whole world -and Harry,
for that matter- for a fool, Draco was
innocent.

And that was all Harry Potter needed to know.

Of course, two
seconds after this revelation had taken place and before he could act on it,
Dumbledore had appeared out of nowhere, impersonating the miracle Harry had
been secretly waiting for all morning. And just as if Fawkes� beautiful trills
had washed it away, all of his anger, all of his doubts were put to rest in
favour of the most unlikely emotion he could have ever felt: complete and total
relief.

Draco was safe.

Now, �and we go
back to the main issue, here- why would he feel so relieved about that? What
was it about Malfoy that made him so� vulnerable, so weak? Why was he feeling
this way all of the sudden? Why now?

Why Malfoy, of all people!?

�Ladies and
gentlemen; please remain silent and put during the disclosure of the memories.
Remember that the charm won�t allow for any sudden movements during the
examination; so find the most comfortable position in your seat before we
start, and just relax. Any disturbance and the examination will be made
private. Thank you.�

The Wizengamot
Guard�s grave tone shook him out of his reveries, and Harry asked himself what
the hell the man had been talking about. Sure, he had been an Auror for over
two years now, but he had never been present for a �public memory examination�
before. In fact, he was sure that not many of the attendees had had that chance,
either. Nevertheless, the Guard�s warning didn�t make it sound that appealing
to begin with.

Harry chanced a
glance around the courtroom, and found himself wondering if he had been
Portkey-ed without his knowledge to another place.

Everybody was utterly
quiet. There wasn�t the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; there was no
whispering, no murmuring, no gossiping, no munching of
food. Everyone was sitting properly in their chairs, and every single pair of
eyes was set on the weird Pensieve at the front of the courtroom. Even the
Aurors had abandoned their posts and rushed forward to find a seat of their
own. Several seats to his right were Ron, Angelina, and Seamus, wearing the
same frustrated -maybe even resigned- expressions on their faces, although they
weren�t saying a word to each other. At the defendant dock, Malfoy and
Dumbledore had taken their seats once more �the Headmaster was now sitting in
the chair Snape had occupied before- and Harry could tell that they too were
concentrating on the Pensieve before them.

The lights
dimmed even more. Harry looked up at the strange contraption not really sure of
what to expect when he noticed a weird, greenish mist coming out of the
funnel�s end. It swirled and turned upwards, growing bigger and bigger, until
it covered most of the courtroom�s ceiling like a huge cloud and Harry had to
crane his neck to be able to see it. All of the sudden, his seat reclined
itself with a whoosh, and he found himself staring at the foggy ceiling, laying
on his back, just as he would if he were lying on a grassy hill, looking up at
a starry night. His chair and everyone else�s had transfigured themselves into
some sort of divan.

And then, it all
started. Just as if it were a huge screen, the mist up above started glowing
before an image took shape. It was the image of a circular room. There were
countless numbers of strange gadgets and artefacts sitting on golden shelves,
ticking and emitting white puffs of smoke at different intervals. Several
portraits hung on the stone walls, mostly of people, but there were a few
depicting mythical animals and fantastic places. There was a great oak desk
near the centre of the room, complemented by two equally ornate chairs on each
side.

It was Dumbledore�s office.

The Headmaster
appeared behind the desk, old and wise and twinkly as always. It was then that
Harry noticed the woman sitting in the chair opposite him; maybe because of the
shocking contrast she made beside him. She had long hair that ran down her
back, and it looked like it had once been the purest of gold, but it was now a
limp mane of dead, matt straw. She was sitting with the air of someone of the
noblest lineage, but the slight curve of her back and the quickened rise and
fall of her chest betrayed how weary, how tired she truly was, but also how
much she was trying to hide it. Her translucent, almost skeletal hands were
shaking as she held a tiny blue flask, which she had been staring at the whole
time.

�I�m doing this
for the good of my son,� she broke the silence, and her voice sounded as if it
was meant to be superior and firm but had come out breathy and ragged instead;
as if it had taken her a great effort to say that much.

�I know that,
Narcissa. I know that you love your son very, very much,� Dumbledore said
softly; his eyes never leaving the broken figure before him. Mrs. Malfoy
suddenly looked up. The woman�s face was unearthly pale, and countless lines
had obscured her undeniably beautiful features, which �Harry noticed with a
gasp- were so much like Draco�s. There were ominous, dark rings under her
glassy blue eyes, and Harry could see the purple spots on her neck and the part
of her shoulders the rich burgundy robes didn�t conceal. She looked very, very ill, and Harry found himself
thinking that he didn�t want to know what was going through Draco�s mind right
now. Surely, this wasn�t the Narcissa Malfoy the blond remembered.

�You must
promise me you will help him. You must swear to me he won�t face any harm!� she
said fiercely, her eyes shining like those of a lioness protecting her cubs,
just before she went into a horrible coughing fit. Dumbledore stood up swiftly,
no doubt to offer her some help, but she made a gesture with her free hand
indicating for him to sit back down, and the old man reluctantly complied. He
conjured a glass of water and placed it before her on the desk. The witch
waited until the coughing subsided, and breathing heavily, she took the glass
and downed its entire contents in no more than three gulps. Dumbledore sighed
deeply, looking intently into the woman�s eyes.

�You have my
honest word, Narcissa. I will do anything within my power to help Draco, but
it�s you who has to give me the means to do it,� the old wizard replied firmly,
but Harry noticed the concern behind his words.

Narcissa
produced her wand from her robes and she tapped the empty glass with it; the
glass refilled itself in a split second. She took a shallow breath, and opening
the blue flask with some difficulty, she poured some of the clear liquid into it.
�I presume that will be more than enough,� she said sharply, her voice rusty
and sore. She then took several swigs of the concoction. Almost instantly, her
face became expressionless and her eyes didn�t seem to be focused on anything
anymore, which made her look like she was� dead.

Harry felt a
strong, icy hand grab his heart and squeeze it. This woman, he realised, wasn�t
the Narcissa Malfoy he had met at the
Quidditch World Cup. That woman had been so cold, so arrogant, so vain he had thought her incapable of having real feelings
for anyone but herself. That woman had looked to him like a porcelain doll;
extremely beautiful on the exterior but inexorably empty inside, with eyes that
didn�t reflect the tenderness in her soul but the way she saw the world
surrounding her: meaningless, one-dimensional, worthless. This Narcissa Malfoy was completely different from that
woman, and Harry knew it had nothing to do with how pale she looked or how
obviously sick she was. This woman was exhausted, and yet, her eyes held a
gleam of determination that told anyone who cared to see that she would stop at
nothing to help her son. This Narcissa Malfoy was clearly dying, and yet she was taking whatever desperate measures she
needed to take to insure her only child�s protection, because she knew she
would not be there to protect him herself.

This woman,
Harry suddenly realised, was as courageous and resolute as his own mother had
been, a long time ago.

�Ask your questions, Dumbledore,� she said in a distant, almost resigned
tone.

The Headmaster
stared at her for a few seconds before he sat up, resting his folded hands on
the desk. His blue eyes were no longer twinkling.

�Very well,� he said softly. �Why did Draco run away, Narcissa?�

�Because I told him
to,� she answered slowly. �I didn�t want them to find him; they would have
killed him if they did. I wasn�t going to allow that. They would not harm my
only son.� In the semidarkness of the courtroom, Harry�s heart started beating
extremely fast when he heard those words.

�Who wanted to
kill Draco, Narcissa? Why would they want to do that?� Dumbledore asked, but
his tone hinted that he already knew the answer. Harry grabbed the edge of his
chair-turned-divan tightly as he felt shivers of anticipation running up and
down his spine. Somehow, he knew the answer to that question as well, and he
knew �he simply knew- that he was
right. This was all they needed to hear, and Draco would be free.

�Rogue Death
Eaters,� Narcissa said in the same distant, breathy, mechanical tone, and Harry
nearly cried out loud. His heart felt as if it was going to explode.

�They knew there
had been somebody thwarting their schemes, and they suspected that it was Draco
because he had refused to take the Mark, but they hadn�t been able to figure
out how he had been getting such relevant intelligence when he wasn�t in the
Circle. They had almost given up, thinking that the leak was from somewhere
else, when they found out about Blaise Zabini. The boy told them everything,
thinking that his confession would save him. They tortured him to death, and
not only because his ineptitude was the cause of the Dark Lord�s defeat. They
branded the words �Filthy Poofter� on his chest...� Narcissa trailed off for a
second, apparently lost in her own secret fears. Unexpectedly, Harry�s heart
�which had been hammering like crazy when the words he had so desperately
wanted to hear were said- skipped a beat. His eyes were fixed on the magical
screen; his mind working at a thousand miles per second to comprehend
everything the woman was saying.

�With Zabini�s
confession, things fell into place. It had been Draco who had found the weak
link in their network and had used it to help the enemy. It had been he who had
been feeding information to the Order the whole time. He was a pureblood, a
Malfoy, and yet he had betrayed their Cause, which was supposed to be his Cause in the first place. But no;
Draco had allied himself to Potter, so he was to die as the blood traitor he
was,� the witch finished coolly, her eyes not blinking once.

There was a
collective gasp in the courtroom, followed by the expected exclamations,
comments, and whispers that all rolled around like thunder. Harry didn�t pay
attention to any of it. There were so many emotions rushing through him right
now that he felt as if he had stepped into some sort of parallel universe. The
gravity of the situation was so much greater than he had ever imagined; it
surpassed his wildest dreams, his most crackpot suppositions. It wasn�t that
Draco hadn�t been a Death Eater. It was that Draco had been helping them all
along and they never knew it; in fact, they didn�t even consider it, because,
let�s face it, who would have thought that
of a Malfoy? They hadn�t clapped Draco in irons after that sentence was passed;
this whole world had clapped him in irons the day he was born!

Harry�s mind was
swirling with thoughts. He felt guilty, angry, proud, and astonished all at the
same time, and all he wanted to do in that moment was to find him; to find
Draco, grab him by the shoulders, force him to look him in the eyes, and tell
him� Just tell him that�

Tell him what, exactly? Tell him that he had believed him all along?
Tell him that he was sorry Draco had had to go through this mess? Tell him that
he, Harry, should have acted sooner; that he should have been braver? Tell him
something like �Hey, let�s just forgive and forget�? Tell him that he wanted to
be his friend?

Right in that
moment, Harry understood why Draco hadn�t said anything about his true role in
the war. The answer was quite simple, really, and Harry saw himself reflected
in the same mirror:

Why would you believe me?

Up above, the
memory kept playing its course, oblivious to the attendees� reactions below.
The Headmaster in the screen appeared to be lost in his own thoughts for a few
minutes, until he sighed tiredly. �So many young ones lost in the war. So many
of them forced into such difficult choices, into such hard sacrifices. Yet, I
wonder why I didn�t see it then...� the old wizard trailed off, and Harry
noticed a flicker of some unreadable emotion flashing in his eyes before he
cleared his throat and his gaze turned to Narcissa once more.

�It was Draco
who sent me that message the day of the Final Battle, wasn�t it? He was the one
who warned us about the ambush that Lord Voldemort had planned to kill Harry?�
he asked, and the aforementioned wizard suddenly felt out of breath.

Surely Dumbledore wasn�t referring to..?

Narcissa Malfoy smiled
softly, almost timidly in her far-away state, as if she had just seen something
beautiful and precious in her mind�s eye; something not even Veritaserum had
been able to wipe away from her thoughts. And somehow, Harry was certain that
that something beautiful had been her son. His heart leapt with some
indescribable emotion, and she hadn�t uttered a word yet.

�Yes, it was him,� she answered simply, firmly.

Irrevocably.

�I should have
known as much,� Dumbledore said with a tiny smile of his own, although his own
eyes hadn�t yet recovered the soft glimmer they were so famous for. �Your son
is very brave, Narcissa. I am so sorry that I didn�t realise all of this a long
time ago; it would have made things quite� different��

Dumbledore�s
words resonated with a dry echo for a couple of seconds before the Headmaster,
Mrs. Malfoy, and the round office with all its curious gadgets and portraits
disappeared in a whirlpool of green mist and colour. Before Harry could recover
his wits or even start putting them into some semblance of order, the strange
fog covering the ceiling glimmered and twirled once more, and it was when
fragments of another image started to condense in the magical cloud that he
realised that the last and probably most important memory, Mrs. Malfoy�s, was
about to start. His hands tightened their hold on the divan until he felt his
fingers go numb.

Swiftly, another
room materialized before his eyes. It was a drawing room. Several armchairs,
low tables, and cupboards made of the finest fabrics and woods were scattered
around the room in an orderly fashion. There was a soft, amber light bathing
the comfortable space, and a soothing crackle came from the fireplace at the
far wall. A woman wearing a beautiful blue robe was sitting in one of the
armchairs. There was a tray with delicate tea assortments on the table by her
side and a book on her silk-clad lap, and she kept twirling one of her
immaculate golden curls around her finger as she read peacefully. This time,
Harry didn�t have much trouble recognising her. It was Narcissa Malfoy; the one
he remembered.

There was a soft
knock before the sound of a door being opened was heard and the woman looked
up, closing her book, her face set in a cold mask. Said mask vanished after a
second and her features broke into an honest, candid smile; one Harry would
have never imagined seeing on that woman�s face.

�My little Dragon is home!�

�I�ve got an
Apparition Licence, Mother. You can stop calling me that, did you know?� an all
too familiar voice drawled from somewhere in the room, and Harry felt a bolt of
lightning flashing through his insides. Draco, the arrogant boy he had always
known, the Slytherin Prince, the bane of his school existence, made his way
towards his mother and kneeled before her, taking her in an embrace that
surprised the raven-haired wizard with its tenderness. His pale, juvenile face
was set in his trademark smirk, but there was a warm glow in his grey eyes that
made them shine like molten silver instead of the frozen mercury Harry was so
used to. Narcissa laughed soundly; a pristine, crystalline sound; and leaned
back to look into her child�s face, cupping his cheeks with her hands.

�I�ll call you
whatever I want. Mother�s privileges,� she said, ignoring her son�s scowl. �So,
tell me everything. How was the ride home?� Draco blushed slightly -a gesture
that the Harry in the courtroom found incredibly endearing for some reason-
before he cleared his throat and his face was once again the mask of easy
indifference he always wore.

�It was alright. It rained a little, though.�

Narcissa arched
a pale eyebrow. �That�s it? No spectacular mischievous accomplishment? No
creating mass hysteria? No terrorizing the trolley lady? My. Are you felling
ill, my darling? Otherwise I might think you�re growing up!� Draco adopted an
affronted expression, his scowl deepening.

�I resent
that,� he said with his nose in the air, crossing his arms over his chest.
Narcissa smiled once again, and he returned the gesture promptly, although
making it look like it took him a great effort.

�Seriously, my Dragon. We haven�t
talked much these past couple of weeks. How was the Leaving Feast?� she asked,
taking her son�s hands in hers. The blond boy shrugged.

�It was� ok, I guess.
Slytherin lost both cups again this year,� he said grumpily, and Harry was
somewhat perplexed to realise that there hadn�t been any real malice behind his
words, just annoyance. His mother gave him a knowing look.

�Well, I�m sure
it wasn�t because you didn�t try your best, darling; especially with that
Potter boy being��

�It didn�t have
anything to do with Ha� Potter, Mother,� Draco cut in quickly; his eyes
narrowing slightly. Narcissa looked quite baffled for a second; her blue eyes
looking intently at her son. Oblivious to the now incessant murmur going on in
the courtroom, Harry frowned in his own puzzlement; his eyes glued to the
screen over his head. Had he heard correctly? Had Malfoy almost said..?

�Anyway; there�s
something important I must talk to you about,� Draco said, standing up to take
the armchair besides his mother�s. Narcissa�s eyes followed her son�s
movements, and Harry was taken aback when he noticed that her expression had
turned once again cold and detached in a matter of seconds; she now looked
downright intimidating. It was as if the content, loving Narcissa Malfoy had
never existed. Malfoy was now seated, and his face too had changed into an
unreadable mask. It seemed to Harry as if an invisible breeze had come in
through the windows and had turned the once comfortable room into a chilly,
grey place.

�Very well. Speak your mind, my son,�
Mrs. Malfoy said stiffly after she had put her book next to the tea tray on the
small table. Her back was straight and her long neck extended; her hands were
elegantly placed, folded, on her lap. Draco fumbled with a silver band on his
right hand�s ring finger for a few moments, staring at it, before he cleared
his throat and looked up at his mother�s face; his expression serious and
remarkably� mature, Harry thought.

�Mother, I�ve decided to��

�That ring has
been passed on for generation to generation in your family; did you know that,
my son? It belonged to your grandfather and his father, it belonged to Lucius,
and now it belongs to you. I hope you understand the meaning of it,� Narcissa
cut in sternly, without remorse, her blue eyes weighing on her son. �Have you
forgotten your duties, your responsibilities as the last Malfoy Heir?�

�I�ve not
forgotten who or what I am, Mother; you and Father made it certain that I
remember that for the rest of my life,� Draco nearly hissed, his eyes like
frozen quicksilver. �As you�ve just made it easier, I wanted to tell you that
I�ve decided that it�s time I started making my own duties, my own responsibilities�
my own choices,� he finished somewhat
cautiously.

�If this is
about that ridiculous idea of yours Severus told me about, then rest assured,
Draco, that I won�t allow you to�� Draco stood up swiftly, interrupting his
mother so rudely with such an uncharacteristic action that she looked for the
most fleeting of moments as if she had just been slapped.

�I don�t need
nor am I asking for your permission. I�m going to do it, whether you want it,
like it, or not, Mother,� he said firmly. Narcissa didn�t even flinch. In fact,
she looked colder than ever, but there was something about the way she was
holding her freshly-served cup of tea -white-knuckled- that made Harry think it
was just a fa�ade. Not that he blamed her; Draco was on the verge of mutiny.

�Well, Draco,
darling; then that means that you�re not going back to Hogwarts next year.� Her
tone was dry, hinting the end of the conversation. The blond boy merely laughed
sardonically in response as he paced the room. The raven-haired Auror was completely
taken aback by this show of disrespect.

�Do you really
think that me not going back to Hogwarts will change
something; that it will actually stop me? This world is at war, Mother. It
doesn�t matter how much you try to hide; it will find you sooner or later. And
I, for the first time in my life, won�t hide; don�t want to hide. Father wanted me to become a Death Eater. I certainly
don�t see where the big difference lies,� he drawled, stopping to look out the
large window, his rigid back facing his mother.

�All your father
wanted was for you to become the great wizard you were born to be, Draco; the Malfoy you have to be,� Narcissa said in
a controlled tone as she put her cup of tea down a little more roughly than she
probably intended. The fine piece of china clattered on its saucer.

�The Malfoy I
have to be?!� Draco spat, turning from his spot by the window. �Let me tell
you what being a �Malfoy� really means, Mother.� He took off his ring hastily and
held it in front of him for his mother to see. �For the last hundred years this
family has been carrying a burden that has never been ours to begin with. We�ve
followed the orders of whatever madman that comes into existence like lapdogs,
be it Grindelwald, Voldemort, or whoever strikes our fancy; deluding ourselves
with prospects of power and gold, just because we seem incapable of thinking
with our own heads, of making our own rules. And look where that has taken us!�
the blond said loudly, making a sweeping gesture with his arms. �My
grandfather�s body was found in a swamp. My father is rotting in prison. All of
our money, all of our so-called prestige, all of our power� it�s gone, Mother!
We are nothing! The Malfoy name means nothing!
We�re living off of charity, for Salazar�s beard! And all of
that in the name of what, exactly? In the name of
�pure� blood? Well, all of our blasted pure blood and our ideals of
superiority won�t keep us alive; did you know that?! But I suppose that dying with a Dark Mark stamped on your
arm makes it all worthwhile!�

Mrs. Malfoy
stared at her soon with wide eyes and her face was paler than ever. She looked
very much like Harry�s aunt Petunia used to when she had spotted some
particularly nasty water stain on her silverware. Mrs. Malfoy stood up in a
swift motion, losing all pretences of glamour and self-control.

�How dare you
speak to me like this!? How dare you say those things about
your family!?� Narcissa said fiercely, taking a step towards Draco. Her
blue eyes were as cold and ominous as her son�s.

�No, Mother. How
dare you try to follow Lucius� steps
and control my life after everything that�s happened? I thought that all the
things we�ve been through since Father�s imprisonment had taught you
something!� Draco replied harshly, his grey eyes flaring and his whole posture
tall and imposing as he stepped towards his mother; stopping when he was
standing right before her. Narcissa gaped at him, seemingly at a loss for
words, for an indeterminable amount of time.

�It�s you who hasn�t learned anything!� the
woman suddenly cried. Her features were now strained with fear. There was a
telltale glimmer in her eyes. She grabbed her son by the arms and shook him
roughly as she looked up at him. She was practically shaking herself. It was
obvious that she had reached the breaking point of her endurance, and Harry
understood that all of that coldness and arrogance were just the defence
mechanisms of an extremely fragile, helpless woman.

�Do you know
what will happen to you if you�re caught? Do you realise what he�ll do to you
if he finds out you denied him and turned to the other side? I can�t let you
endanger your life like this, Draco! You�re my only son! I won�t send you to
your death!�

�If I die, so be
it! At least that means that I was doing something!�
Draco jerked himself free of his mother�s hold. �Don�t you see, Mother? This
year has taught me that I�ve always taken things for granted; that my whole
life had revolved around things that didn�t matter! And do you know what the
worst of everything was? Realising that I was nothing without Father�s power;
that I was nothing without our money, simply because I hadn�t done anything, anything to earn something for myself!
Well, now I have something to fight for, something to care for! And I intend to
hold on to it for as long as I can, even if it means having to go against a
thousand Dark Lords!�

�Child, you
don�t know what you�re talking about! See yourself in your father�s mirror, for
Salazar�s name!� Narcissa looked desperate. Tears were cascading freely down
her cheeks now. If anything, Draco appeared even more determined. His fists
were closed at his sides and his face was a mask of iron.

�I�ve been
seeing myself in my Father�s mirror for far too long. Is that what you want? Do
you want me to end up like him? Well, I�m sorry to say this, Mother, but that�s
not going to happen. I refuse to be my father!� Draco roared, and Narcissa
appeared to have lost it completely with that statement, because she flung
herself to her son�s feet; grabbing the folds of his robes as if they were a
lifeline; looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

�My son, Draco, I beg you! Don�t do this! Please, don�t do this!�

Draco looked
surprised for a moment before he crouched on the floor, taking his mother�s
hands from his clothes. His face was now a mix of disgust and irritation. �Stop
it, Mother!� he said, but the woman didn�t hear him. She was just crying and
sobbing; muttering the same pleas over and over again; her eyes lost and her face
contorted with dread.

�Mother, control
yourself!� he said fiercely, grabbing her by the forearms. Narcissa stopped her
diatribe and stared at her only child, aghast. It was as if she had stopped
breathing.

�I� I lost
Lucius� I couldn�t bear losing you as well!� Her tone was desolate, nearly a
howl of pain. Draco appeared indolent to his mother�s words and tears.

�I�m going to do it, Mother, and I won�t let you stop me.�

The resolution in
that sentence sent a cold shiver down Harry�s spine, making the little hairs on
the back his neck stand up. He couldn�t hear anything past Draco�s voice. He
couldn�t focus on anything that wasn�t Draco�s face in the memory before him:
passionate, determined, bold. It was as if it was only
him in that courtroom� him and a Draco Malfoy he thought he had all figured
out, and who Harry now realised he had never known at all. He had stopped
trying to analyze all he was witnessing a long time ago. Right in that moment,
Harry was just letting these revelations wash over him, overwhelming him,
numbing him, tearing him apart; demolishing all of the preconceived notions he
had had of that complete stranger that was Draco Lucius Malfoy; his childhood
archenemy, his school rival, his unlikely comrade.

His secret guardian.

�Why, Draco? Why?� Narcissa breathed, cupping her
son�s face in her hands; her own face red and puffy with tears. Draco looked
intently into his mother�s watery eyes for a few moments, and suddenly, his
face softened ever so slightly, and his lips turned into a saddened smile.

Mrs. Malfoy
stared at him, mouth agape, as if those irises of molten silver had just let
her see something nobody else could understand.

Draco nodded
softly to some unspoken question; his joyless smile turning a bit more
pronounced, his hand going up to tilt his mother�s
chin up with such gentleness and care it took Harry�s breath away.

�Because I have to, Mother. Because I couldn�t bear losing him...�

Before the raven-haired
Auror could understand, could even begin
to rationalize what the Draco in the memory had just said, the drawing room and
its occupants, the green mist, the semidarkness� it all disappeared in the
blink of an eye.

��

�Draco? We can go now, my boy.�

The blond wizard looked up.

Dumbledore was
standing right beside him with his godfather; both men looking satisfied to
different degrees. The old wizard gestured around with a soft smile on his
face, indicating that, indeed, the hearing was over and it was time to go. The last group of attendees was leaving the
courtroom animatedly, some of them still drinking their Butterbeers, discussing
and recounting the events as they exited. There were Ministry Officers taking
care of the cleaning and readjusting of seats with their wands, and several
Aurors were standing post at the doors, ensuring everyone�s orderly departure.
The presidential table was now deserted and the Pensieve had been removed from
the premises. On the other side of the courtroom, Luton
and his assistant were roughly putting parchments, quills, and folders away
with incredibly sour expressions on their faces. With two identical murderous
glares in their direction, the two officers left the courtroom through the side
door in haste; no doubt not wanting to come across any journalists in their
flight.

�I know. Let�s
go,� Draco said coldly as he stood up, stone-faced, from his chair at the
defendant dock. Dumbledore simply eyed his Potions Master briefly before the
three men started leaving through the centre aisle. Severus was about to turn
in the direction of the side door when the Headmaster halted his progress.

�Right this way,
Severus,� the old man said indicating the now closed oak doors at the end of
the courtroom. �Mr. Malfoy is leaving this tribunal as an innocent man, thus he
will exit it through the main gates, like everybody else.�

The Potions
Master glanced at Dumbledore with an obvious urge to roll his eyes. �Do you
know what is waiting for Draco on the other side?� The Headmaster�s smile grew
wider, if that was possible.

�Why, Severus.
The world as he never knew it,� he said, blue eyes twinkling, as he placed a
kind hand on Draco�s shoulder, ignoring the hard grey eyes and the tight jaw
�politely� requesting the immediate removal of the extremity. �Now, let�s
hurry. Fawkes is getting a bit restless.� As if on cue, the phoenix perched on
the ancient wizard�s shoulder gave a loud trill and batted its beautiful wings,
conveying his agreement.

They reached the
main doors and two Aurors nodded reverently to the Headmaster before opening
them. As expected, thousands of flashes blinded their sight the moment the
wizards stepped outside the courtroom. Just like before, two Ministry Officers
joined them to flank their way to the lifts; this time showing much more
courtesy towards the young Malfoy.

There was a mass
of people conglomerated in the great hall, all of them wanting a closer look at
the newly-proclaimed �war hero� of the Wizarding Wold. Reporters were asking
their highly irrelevant questions, mostly associated to Mr. Malfoy�s romantic
life and what he was planning to do now that he was once again the richest
bachelor in Wizarding Britain
�not to mention a possible candidate for the Order of Merlin-. Regular
onlookers and former attendees were shouting watchwords and other
unintelligible declarations of diverse kinds; some of the most frenzied �mostly
female, but there were some wizards bubbling in the lot as well- were even
asking for autographs and shouting outrageous requests and proposals, which
were not all as innocent as the �I love you!� and the �Marry me!� types. All
things considered, the harassed group was more or less acceptably responsive�
if the couple selected words from the Headmaster, the loud, irritated thrills
from Fawkes at so much unwanted petting, and the two snappy expressions on the
two former Slytherins� faces were anything to go by, of course.

Finally, and not
with small struggle, they got into one of the magical elevators at the end of
the hall, and Severus hurriedly pushed one of the buttons. The doors closed
swiftly, as if understanding the need for a quick escape, and with a soft
�clink� the apparatus started its smooth way upwards. In the relative privacy
of the elevator, the three men let out a relieved sigh. Even the mythical bird
seemed quite happy to be able to spread its wings and tail without the threat
of somebody wanting to pluck one of its valuable feathers.

�Well, that was
not so hard,� Dumbledore said, eyeing his younger companion with curiosity and
hidden concern. The young Malfoy had been utterly quiet since the disclosure of
the memories; his face set in an expressionless mask, but the Headmaster knew
it was just a well-practised act to conceal the simmering emotions beneath.
Today had been quite the splinching episode for the boy, even if Draco was
still standing right next to him in one piece. The old man held the tired sigh
that threatened to escape his lips. The easy part was conquered; the real test
was merely beginning.

�Lemon Sherbet,
anyone?� he asked affably, taking out a small package from his robes, but both
Severus and Draco refused; one with a somewhat annoyed �No, thanks�, the other
with stubborn indifference. The tension was exuding from the blond wizard in
waves; the storm was right there, building up, waiting for the perfect moment
to break loose. This had to be managed with the utmost subtlety. Dumbledore wondered
if he could send his dear Potions Master on a Skrewt hunt once they reached
Hogwarts, but he doubted Severus would find that amusing.

The Weird
Sisters were playing one of their hits around them; their melancholic tune
quite depressing background music, in Dumbledore�s opinion. He certainly would
have preferred one of Celestina Warbeck�s more cheery songs, but maybe the
Fates were already conspiring and the mood was being set up for what was to
come. Again, he held back another tired sigh. It seemed there was never peace
for a brilliant mind. Of course, only Time would tell whose particular mind was
being discussed. Hopefully �even if it sounded completely inconsiderate- it
wasn�t his own.

A couple of
seconds later, there was a delicate ring and a loud �clank�, and the elevator
doors opened effortlessly. The ancient wizard wasn�t surprised to find an
empty, softly lit hallway as their greeting instead of the busy, noisy,
crammed-full Main Hall of the Ministry of Magic. That�s the way it is with
magical buildings: they seem to react and somehow accommodate to its
inhabitants needs; a property that was certainly appreciated in times like
these. Stepping out and not pausing to verify that his companions were
following, he sprinted forward in the narrow passageway, star-splashed purple
robes billowing behind him, under the questioning glances of the portraits
hanging on both stone walls until he reached a small wooden door with a sign
that read �Nowhere�s End� in bold, golden letters at the end of the hallway.
After a few taps with his wand, the small door flung open, revealing a small
street that looked very much like a side alley; scattered rubbish cans, stray
dogs, hideous smells and all.

�Good, good,�
Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, as he stood in the doorway, inspecting both sides
of the alley for witnesses. �I imagined no-one would think of this exit,� he
said in explanation to the somewhat disgusted expressions on Severus� and
Draco�s faces. The older wizard suddenly rummaged for something inside his
robes before he produced what looked alarmingly close to a cuckoo clock. He
eyed it airily, smiling softly to himself, before putting it in one of his
pockets once again. His two companions glanced at each other questioningly
before shrugging the strange behaviour off as one of the man�s many
eccentricities. Stepping outside into the empty side street, Dumbledore
beckoned the other two to follow. Once the three wizards were outside in the
Muggle Sector of the city, the wooden door closed automatically and a brick
wall now stretched, unperturbed, on both sides of the abandoned warehouse they
had just left.

�Albus, I
thought you wanted a more� public departure. Surely we could have Portkey-ed
from the main hall?� Severus asked obfuscated, glancing around the dirty alley
to convey his point.

�Ah, Severus,
sometimes a small glimpse is just enough,� Dumbledore said cryptically, blue
eyes twinkling madly. �Now, do you have that Portkey? We only have fourteen
more minutes, if I�m not mistaken.� The Potions Master nodded, producing a
bended spoon from his robes inner pocket and handing it to his employer with no
slight annoyance etched on his pale face.

�Are we going to
stay here until the bloody Portkey activates? Couldn�t we just wait inside,
where it�s warm?� Draco asked snappishly, tugging at his robes. Severus and the
Headmaster exchanged significant looks, although neither of the two men was
exactly sure of the extent of the other wizard�s knowledge. Before any one of
them could elaborate, however, there was a loud �clang� and the sound of
hurried footsteps running towards them.

�Wait!� The
three wizards swiftly turned in the direction the voice had come from to find a
very flustered Harry Potter on the corner of the street, just a dozen meters
away from them. �Professor Dumbledore, sir, I thought you�d left,� the man
gasped, his raven-black hair wild and his glasses askew, bent at the waist and
hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. Fawkes took flight and went to sit
on Harry�s shoulder, trilling enthusiastically as it nibbled at jet strands.

�Oh, Harry, my boy! So nice of you to
see us off,� Dumbledore beamed, gesturing for the Auror to come closer to where
they stood. The nearly panicked expression that crossed the blond wizard�s face
didn�t escape the Headmaster�s all knowing eyes, though, and his lips turned up
in a discrete, tender smile as he watched both young men. Harry Potter grinned
as he walked towards the group, petting Fawkes� magnificent plumage.

�The Ministry is
in complete mayhem. Everybody�s wondering how you escaped without them
noticing. I remembered this exit and thought you�d use it as a quiet way out,�
Harry said as his eyes glanced at the visibly irritated blond man standing a
few feet away from him, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

�As much as I�d
love to think you came here looking for me to say hello, Harry, I know there
must be something else. What is it, my boy?� The Headmaster smiled as Harry
suddenly turned wide, green eyes in his direction.

�I� I wanted to
have a word with Malfoy, sir,� he said firmly -never mind the initial
hesitation- as he looked openly at the aforementioned blond wizard.

Draco eyes
snapped up in Potter�s direction. He appeared at a loss for actions as he
glanced from one older wizard to the other, but neither of them seemed willing
to provide any ideas; even his godfather appeared to be enjoying this little
show, if his raised eyebrow really meant amusement, as he suspected. Scowling
deeply and ignoring the quickened rhythm of his heart, the blond settled for
that same old, well-known script.

�Are you keeping
up the harassment, Potter? Didn�t you get enough entertainment for one day?� he
spat, fully aware that his swelling anger was not entirely directed at the annoying hero in that particular
moment -and certainly not willing to acknowledge the other
infinitely more disturbing emotions the mere sight of this imbecile provoked in
him- but being unable to react in any other way nevertheless. This was
customary; this was expected from both of them. This was� safe. He needed
�safe� right now.

�Now now, Draco;
I�m sure Harry didn�t come all the way here to pick a fight with you. Why don�t
you hear what he has to say?� Dumbledore chuckled softly. Harry looked a bit
put out.

�No� It�s ok, Professor. I�m really sorry.
I better��

�Mr. Malfoy
might growl quite a bit, Harry, but I don�t think he bites; not hard, anyway,�
Dumbledore interrupted him, pointedly ignoring the various reactions his casual
comment elicited in the three men in his company. The Headmaster then glanced
in the blonde�s direction, offering him one of his infuriatingly innocent
smiles as if he had no idea whatsoever of the thousand different meanings the
words he had just said could have.

Draco stared at
him, mouth gaping and reaching boiling point. Knowing that his control was
wearing thin, he swallowed hard a couple of times and turned to look at the sky
above, inhaling deeply, before the thought of doing something incredibly stupid
became much more appealing.

The brat�s voice snatched his attention from the waltzing clouds.

�Well, I just� I
needed to tell Malfoy that I� that I�� the Gryffindor stuttered, looking up at
the bird perched on his shoulder as if asking for assistance. Fawkes didn�t
seem inclined to help him, though, for he gave another loud trill and flew back
to his rightful owner, leaving Harry feeling incredibly exposed, for some
reason.

�You�re wasting
your time, Potter. I�m not interested in anything you could say.� Draco�s arms
were tightly crossed over his chest, as if he was really cold, and his eyes
were resolutely set on everything but the man in front of him. Severus did roll
his eyes this time.

�What nonsense!�
the Potions Master snapped. �Speak your mind now, Potter. We have a Portkey to
catch in approximately�� he took out a chain watch and inspected it, �six
minutes, and as amusing as I used to find this childish vendetta of yours, it�s
starting to grate on my nerves.�

The acidic tone of
his godfather made Draco look �albeit reluctantly- at the intended. Harry
appeared as if he had just realised what a moronic thing he had done by coming
there. The blond could actually see the twist of emotions playing on his face;
from annoyance, to anger, to finally red-cheeked embarrassment. Draco felt that
strange, pixie-eaten-alive type of fluttery sensation in his stomach again,
which only added to his galloping aggravation and not only because he had the
sudden impulse to smack his godfather for speaking so harshly to Potter. Still,
it was right there, urging him to do something.
There was no way out of it.

Oh, Hell! Oh, fuck, fuck,
fuck!

With a mighty,
long-suffering exhalation he walked cautiously towards Harry. The Auror
appeared surprised to see him approaching him, and that gave Draco some amount
of resolve. He stopped when he was right in front of the infuriating man and
out of ear shot from the others.

�Look, Potter, I��

�Malfoy, I wanted to say that��

Realising that
they were interrupting each other�s sentences, an awkward silence sprang
between them until it became almost unbearable. Steel grey eyes were locked
intensely with forest green, just as it had happened hours ago, but it felt
different this time. They stood there for a couple of minutes, saying nothing,
just staring at each other, weighing each other�s reactions, assessing each
other�s gestures.

�Thank you.�

Just as the
words tumbled out of their mouths, they understood that it hadn�t been some
sort of echo around them, but the other saying the very same thing he just had,
at the very same time. The realisation was nearly a tangible push backwards; it
sent both their hearts beating at incredibly high rates and a sense of d�j� vu
through their systems.

�Draco, we need
to go,� Severus informed warily from somewhere behind them. Both men ignored
him, so caught up as they were in their shocked silence.

The blond was
the first to recover, though. He cleared his throat curtly, but Harry could see
the puzzlement, the uneasiness in his eyes and in the way he clenched his jaw
and pressed his arms tightly over his chest. He could see it because he felt
it, too, but it didn�t mean he understood what was going on. Draco looked at
him meaningfully, as if he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking about, and
sighed heavily.

�Look, Potter.
Thank you for what you did today. You didn�t have to� vouch for me like that.
There. That�s all I needed to say,� he finished stiffly, quite aware of the two
pairs of eyes watching his and Harry�s every move and feeling quite desperate
to end this� whatever it was as soon as possible; to leave this utterly
upsetting man�s presence as fast as he could. Harry Potter was unbalancing him
in ways he never thought possible, and yes, no matter how much he�d hate
himself for admitting it, he was scared. He didn�t want to deal with the
implications. He didn�t want to think about what all of this could mean; not
right now. There were just too many thoughts running around in his head; to
many things to figure out, to analyse, to understand.
There were too many weird emotions on the loose already. This was not the
moment to wonder why Harry bloody Potter affected him as much as he did; that
was one inner dilemma he was planning to stall for as long as he could.

Draco turned to
leave, but a hand grabbed him swiftly by the forearm, sending an electrical
shock through his arm to the rest of his body. He winced visibly at the
unexpected sensation �which only accomplished pushing him more towards the edge
of losing it completely- and glared at Potter with what he hoped looked like
irritation. Harry had the nerve to look sheepish for a second, but then his
face broke into a soft smile. His emerald eyes were glowing with hope, and
Draco was finding it very hard to breathe properly. He needed to get out of
there, and fast, but Potter didn�t seem to be willing to let go any time soon.

�Draco�� Severus
repeated, this time a bit more exasperated. Harry glanced in the sour man�s
direction before turning back to look him in the eye.

�Listen to me,
please! It�s me who should thank you,� the raven-haired wizard said hastily. �I
didn�t� I never knew� about the ambush,
about your help� I thought it had been Snape that� You saved my life, Draco. If
it hadn�t been for those memories, for your mother�s, I would have never
guessed��

Harry had a
thousand things more to say, but all of his words were caught in his throat.
Draco�s face suddenly turned into the same mask of iron Harry had seen in that memory.
His eyes were narrowed into slits of frozen mercury and he could actually feel
the chill radiating from him. It made him release the slender man�s arm and
take a small step backwards.

�Don�t��

The command was
as cold and unforgiving as those eyes. Harry felt suddenly bereft and confused.
What had he done wrong now? What..?

�Draco, I��

�This conversation is over. And it�s �Malfoy� to you, Potter. Don�t
ever forget that.�

Draco felt a
pang of guilt shoot across his chest as he said those harsh words and watched
the hurt in Harry�s eyes -just as he had seen back in that restroom- but he
swallowed it back to wherever it had come from. Turning swiftly on his heels,
he walked towards the two wizards now staring at him with inquiring expressions
on their faces; pain and anger making it easy for him to ignore the feeling of
bewildered eyes on the back of his neck.

�Malfoy, wait!�
Harry cried, but even when he wanted to run after the blond, he couldn�t move
from where he was. It was as if his feet were cemented to the pavement. A few
meters away from him, Draco was yanking the sparkling blue Portkey from his
godfather�s hands, ignoring both his and Dumbledore�s questions and shaking
with rage. �Let�s go!� the blond spat,
and the visibly flabbergasted wizards had only a couple of seconds to
take hold of the activating Portkey before a beam of blue light engulfed them
in a cocoon, and with a loud �crack�, they were gone.

Harry Potter
stood there in the deserted street for what seemed like a long time, staring at
the empty spot the others had occupied moments ago; his heart aching and his
mind going wild. He didn�t understand anything that had just happened, from his
almost manic desire to see Draco after the hearing had ended, to their strange
conversation, to the way the blond had snapped for no apparent reason. His
whole being felt overwhelmed with emotions, and there was this urgent need
inside him to make sure that Draco was ok, that he knew that Harry believed he
was a good man; that he knew that Harry was� sorry, for everything and for
nothing at all. No matter if the blond pushed him away or told him to go to
Hell or even tried to kill him for that matter, Harry had to let him know; he needed
Draco to know he cared.

Although,
exactly why he cared so much in the first place� that was something the
raven-haired man didn�t know himself.

��

There was a
whirl of wind and colour, accompanied by the most uncomfortable �tugging�
behind his navel, but once the world righted itself under his feet again, his
anger and the desire to hit something hadn�t diminished a single fraction.

He opened his
eyes and he found himself in a round, lighted room. The furniture looked
ancient but well kept, and there was a soft, lingering sweetness in the air
-like the smell of small children, or maybe candy- that was surprisingly
soothing, but not soothing enough to settle his flying temper. He had never
stepped foot in this office, but he knew where he was, because of those damn
memories. He remained immobile for a short while, staring at the floor and
breathing heavily, trying to cling to the remaining bits of self-control he
knew he didn�t have.

�Draco, my boy, take
a seat, please.� The patronizing tone used in that simple sentence was the last
straw. He turned in the direction of the voice, fists closed and grey eyes
smoking. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, totally calm, looking at him
with the most annoying, understanding expression on his face. His godfather was
standing by the large windows, arms crossed over his chest, appraising him with
those calculating, obsidian eyes of his. He felt as if he was being examined,
and that alone fuelled his already flaring anger.

�Don�t you dare
tell me what to do!� Draco roared, blowing a chair out
of his way with his bare hands. �Don�t you think you�ve done enough already!?�
The old man didn�t even blink.

�What do you
think I�ve done, my boy?� Again, that soft, indulgent tone.
Draco felt a rumbling, overwhelming wave of iridescent ire surging upwards from
the pit of his stomach, every single cell in his being burned in its wake,
placing crimson lenses before his eyes.

�What do I think
you�ve done? What do I think...? You
goddamned son of a bitch!� Draco yelled, launching himself against the
desk. Slender �albeit unthinkably strong- arms caught him before he reached his
objective, though, and he felt his body arching and twisting to free itself
from its restrains. It was as if he wasn�t part of his own skin anymore, as if
his brain had shut down and his body was being commandeered by an animalistic
entity. He was blinded by the need to cause pain, to destroy; to hurt as much
as he was hurting. His angered cries and growls were making his throat sore,
but he didn�t care. For once in his life, he just didn�t give a damn about
losing it completely. Sometimes, enough was simply enough.

�Draco, calm
down!� his godfather demanded. The words only made him angrier, more frustrated,
and even harder to contain.

�Let me go! God
damn it, let me go!� His whole face felt like it was on fire. His arms and legs
kept flailing and thrashing around, wanting to hit something, and his jaw ached
from the pressure his clenched teeth were causing. But he welcomed it; he
embraced the pain in his strained joints and muscles, in his throat that was
screamed raw, in the pounding of his head; anything to forget the aching
emptiness in his heart.

�Severus,
release him. He needs to vent his grief,� Dumbledore said softly; his
expression sad and his face looking older than ever. With an inquiring, almost
sceptical look in the old wizard�s direction, the Potions Master let go of his
godson.

It was
immediate. With a mighty roar, the blond wizard grabbed hold of the first thing
he found in his way and threw it as hard as he could over his head. The
delicate glass sphere smashed loudly against the stone wall, splinters flying
everywhere, but even though the shattering sound made him feel good, it wasn�t
enough to placate the beast inside. The shelves and the weird artefacts sitting
on top of the desk were next; they all tumbled to the ground with a loud crash,
puffing smoke and screeching in pain, but it wasn�t enough. The tapestries, the
portraits, the porcelain figurines on the mantel above the fireplace� they all
fell victims to the young wizard�s wrath, and still it wasn�t enough. Draco
screamed and yelled and shouted, hit himself on the head, pulled at his hair,
but it wasn�t enough. The whole world would never be enough.

He collapsed in
a broken heap on the floor. One by one, the sobs rocked his body, breaking the
last walls of the dam, opening the floodgates of his sorrow. Utterly exhausted
and with nothing else to lose, he allowed himself to be weak, to admit defeat,
for the very first time in his life. He cried.

Suddenly, a pair
of gentle, tentative hands held his shoulders, but he didn�t have the spirit to
push them away. Albus Dumbledore was crouching next to him; his blue eyes open,
concerned. Behind Dumbledore, Severus remained alert, although his pale, always
impassive face showed his own apprehension.

�Why?� Draco�s
voice was rusty from so much screaming. �Why did you do it? Why did you use her
like that?�

�I did what she
told me to do, my boy; what was needed to help you. I�m sorry if it hurt you,
but it needed to be done,� the Headmaster answered softly.

�Rubbish! I
didn�t ask for your help!� Draco felt his anger returning at those meagre
words. He stood up with sheer stubbornness as his drive, staring at the
Headmaster with hatred in his eyes. The ancient wizard looked up at him for a
short while before standing up himself with a long sigh and going to sit behind
his desk once more, which was � amazingly - the only thing in his office that
remained unscathed.

�That is enough,
Draco,� Severus warned. Draco turned to look at him with the same contempt on
his face.

�You!� His stormy grey eyes narrowed.
�You knew about this the whole time! You let him do it! How could you!?�

�Like Dumbledore
said, it had to be done, Draco. Narcissa wanted it, and it was your only way
out,� Severus replied firmly, almost harshly. Draco snorted.

�Fucking liar,�
he spat, and his godfather looked completely bewildered by the statement.
�Everything is a fucking lie! I wouldn�t mind being in Azkaban right now if I
knew what you were willing to do to �help me out�!�

�You�re out of
line, young man,� Severus seethed, not understanding his godson�s accusations
but not willing to let him get the upper hand, either. It had been a trying day
for the blond, granted, but some things were unacceptable no matter the
circumstances.

�Severus, let Draco speak,� Albus said calmly; his blue eyes set on
the blond wizard.

�You were the
mastermind behind it all, weren�t you?� Draco snapped at Dumbledore. �Wasn�t
enough showing her broken and ill to the world!? No, of course not! You had to
make her beg in front of them all, didn�t you? My father might be a Dark Wizard
and a Death Eater, but he certainly was right about you. You are a
manipulative, sick bastard!�

�Draco, enough! What the hell is the matter with you!?� the Potions Master roared,
crossing the small distance that separated him from his godson, wanting to grab
the wizard and shake some sense into him. �You will apologize to Albus this
instant! The man saved your life, for Salazar�s name!� Draco ignored him; he
just kept his eyes trained on the old wizard before him. �Tell me why you did
it. Tell me why you forged that memory!!� Dumbledore�s face became puzzled for
a split second before something akin to comprehension settled in his eyes and
regret marred his aging features. Severus looked from one wizard to the other,
flummoxed.

�What do you
mean, he forged the memory? Narcissa herself provided it! Dumbledore, what is
Draco talking about?� The Potions Master�s tone was anxious, nearly alarmed.
The Headmaster remained silent; blue eyes betraying raucous thinking.

�I�m just saying
that he lied,� Draco stated simply, still staring at Dumbledore with frozen eyes.
�The memory wasn�t my mother�s. That memory was fake,�
he hissed as he placed his hand on the Headmaster�s desk, looking rather
intimidating. The old wizard looked as if he hadn�t even noticed the sudden
invasion of his personal space. There was a pensive expression on his face, and
he kept muttering under his breath, as if he were running equations over in his
mind

�Draco, explain yourself, for Merlin�s beard!� Severus was feeling the
telltale throbbing of a migraine in the back of his head. His godson regarded
him with a devious smirk.

�What part don�t
you understand!? The memory is a phoney, fake; it�s not real. And it�s not real
because��

�You don�t
remember it ever happening,� Dumbledore said slowly, as if he had just
discovered the thirteenth use of dragon�s blood, or found the final piece of a
puzzle which had been lost for a very long time. His tone made Draco turn
swiftly in his direction. Somehow, it didn�t make him feel as victorious as it
should have; instead, it sent a bolt of cold lightning across his chest.

�Can somebody
explain to me what�s going on!?� Severus barked out after he noticed the odd
looks going back and forth between the two wizards. Dumbledore sighed, but
there was a satisfied �albeit small- smile on his
face. He took out his wand, and with a gentle flick, the two chairs that had
been knocked over during Draco�s breakdown were set neatly before the desk.

�Severus, Draco; please, take a seat. I�m afraid this is going to be
a long talk.�

��

TBC�

Author Notes: Oh
My! The plot thickens! Liked it? Hated it? You know what to do: Feed the
starving writer!
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Ethereal Desire