Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Black Me Out	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13003 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Warning this chapter contains scenes of violence, implied sexual assault, and gender dysphoria triggers. This is the first sequence of events in this chapter, and if you'd rather not read it, scroll to the first page break to skip it.
Chapter Eight – Dead Friend
Harry took a nervous step back; the sight of Ron and Seamus filled him with such acute fear that he was in very real danger of drowning in it. Draco took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“What do you want Ron?” Harry asked, his free hand slipping into his pocket to grab hold of his wand, while he kept his eyes fixed on the pair.

“How about a recompense for utterly fucking up my life?” Ron snarled as he took a step forward. “Do you know that Hermione dumped me, and I'm not even allowed to take my N.E.W.T.s, thanks to you! Any potential job I want, I need to take the equivalents at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons if I want to be considered for any of the programs here! Do I look like I know how to talk French or German?”

“I don't recall forcing you to beat the crap out of me,” Harry growled, falling into a tone so similar to Draco's usual drawl that he saw the disgust upon Ron's face intensify. “You have no one to blame for your expulsion or Hermione dumping you but you. You were the one who was a complete and utter bigot. Not me, not Hermione, you.”

Ron's lip curled into a sneer, and Harry braced himself when he saw Ron's arm muscles tense, his fist clenching around his wand.

“You're disgusting, you know that? A deluded mental case who should be locked up, not permitted to wander about, spreading your disease!”

“My disease?” Harry sputtered, but he couldn't say anything further before Ron was off again.

“I was doing Gryffindor a favour, getting rid of you. You may have taken down You Know Who, but you're still a freak. A sick, disgusting freak.” Ron brandished his wand, and Harry lifted his, but he was too slow to cast a protection charm as Ron's hex came flying at him, and he hissed as he fell to the ground, the curse slicing through his robes and leaving a shallow cut across his abdomen.

“Harry!” Draco rushed towards him, but Seamus used a tripping charm on him, and hurried forward to pin his arms at his back. Harry tried to sit up, but groaned as another slicing hex hit him before he could move very far, cutting a very neat X into his abdomen. In spite of the pain, Harry swallowed his cries, refusing to give Ron the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

“Watch, Malfoy,” Ron sneered as he stepped forward, flicking his wand again and again, reducing Harry's chest and abdomen to bloody ribbons. Harry soon lost the will to hide the pain, and it escaped him as shuddering gasps while he tried to deflect them, but in his shock and reluctance to actually hurt Ron, his spells were far from effective. “You'll be thanking me for this later. I know you're a ruddy shirt-lifter like my brother, so I will prove to you that you're dating a girl, not a boy.”

“Harry is a boy—a man,” Draco snarled at him angrily, his usual Malfoy dignity crumbling in an instant. “More of a man than you'll ever be, Weasley. Leave him alone!” Draco struggled against the hold, but Seamus didn't let up. Ron scoffed at Draco's defence of him, but something else was more concerning to Harry—how could Ron discuss it so openly, without the curse punishing him? The idea that the curse was losing its effectiveness was more terrifying than Ron bearing down on him, wand pointed at his chest.

“Harry is no man. It is a gross he-she, who mutilated its body to play make-believe! Watch!”

Harry had no chance to defend himself, his mind stuck in blind panic while he lifted his arms in an effort to try and protect himself. Ron brought down his wand in a great sweeping arc, and Harry screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for pain, while Draco screamed.

Instead of the pain Harry had been expecting, Harry felt a rush of cool wind brush across his skin. Harry's eyes flew open in alarm, certain that he was mistaken, and the sight he was presented with made him feel sick.

Harry scrambled to try and cover his naked body, opting to curl himself into a ball in an effort to hide himself from Ron, and in his panic, hand lost track of where his wand had gone. He was sure it had been in his hand. Where was it? He looked around for it as much as he dared, while making sure to keep Ron in his line of sight. His position made his bleeding chest ache, but the physical pain was better than crumbling into an emotional meltdown from allowing the others to see his body.

Ron strode towards him with purpose, Harry could see Draco still straining against Seamus, and he watched his partner scream obscenities at Ron, though it washed over Harry like a dull roar, and he was unable to work out exactly what Draco was saying. His focus stayed on his former best friend, and as Harry opened his mouth to try and reason with him, he yelped as with another short flick of Ron's wand Harry was dragged to his feet and pinned spread-eagle against the cold glass window of the abandoned storefront at his back.

Harry strained against the hex that held him there, his dizzying agony caused by his gender dysphoria so intense that his vision seemed to bend, and his utter shame at the realization that Draco could see all of him set in, making it difficult to tell whether it was more likely that he would faint or vomit first..

“Some man,” Ron sneered, and he grabbed at Harry roughly. Harry attempted to jerk away from the unwanted touch, but the hex held him fast, and tears sprung to the corners of his eyes before he could stop them and Ron laughed nastily. “Look at that Harry, you're crying. Come on, take it like a man!”

“Stop, Ron, please, stop it!” Harry's voice cracked in his desperation, but no matter how much he struggled, he could not move. Behind Ron, Harry could see tears streaking Draco's cheeks, and he too, had not stopped fighting his captor.

“I think I'll fuck you, Harry,” Ron said in such a calm, matter-of-fact tone that Harry felt the bile rise in his throat. “I'll need to Scourgify my cock afterwards, but it'll prove to you that you're really a girl. A whiny, pathetic little girl.”

“I never knew you had so much rage in you,” Harry replied, his voice shaking as he stared back at the ginger, struggling to keep calm through his near-blinding panic. If Ron's threats were any indication, it was but a taste of what was to come, and he needed to get a handle on his emotions if he had any chance of trying to think of a way out of this mess.

Harry's head snapped to the side and he saw stars, his glasses flying to the ground and shattering from the force of Ron's punch.

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, Harry,” He growled, “If you weren't so fucking deluded, you'd see that. But, I think I've talked enough. Let's get started...”

The implication behind his words made Harry feel sick, and he stared at his former friend, eyes wide as he heard the telltale zip of him undoing his trousers. He struggled harder, no longer caring that he was crying openly, no longer caring if he appeared weak, or helpless. Harry didn't care about anything but stopping what Ron was getting ready to do.

“Ron,” Harry pleaded between choked sobs, “No...no...please don't do this...”

Harry felt Ron's hot breath on his face, and then he felt nothing at all. A blinding white light enveloped his vision, and the whole world seemed to fall away.

~*~

Cold.

Harry was aware first that he was cold. Freezing, in fact, despite the fact that distantly he knew it was still summertime.

Something soft had been wrapped around him, and a pair of arms were holding him tightly. A warm hand brushed his cheek, and a warm wet raindrop dripped onto his cheek.

No, not a raindrop, Harry realized.

A tear.

Harry opened his eyes, and came to find that he could see. His glasses had been repaired, and a blanket had been tightly wound around him. Draco's anguished expression lit up as Harry focused on him.

“Draco?” Harry croaked, trying to sit up, but too late remembering his catalogue of injuries, and fell back with a pained gasp. “What happened?” Harry asked, but Draco's answer was to brush his cheek with a soft thumb, and press a kiss to his forehead.

“You're safe. Sirius is on his way, and we'll have Madam Pomfrey see to you.”

“But...what about Ron and Seamus?” Harry asked, “what happened?”

“You don't need to worry about them any more.”

The non-answer was frustrating, and Harry opened his mouth to ask again, but was cut off by the sudden appearance of his godfather.

“Harry!” He cried, and Draco got out of the way to look at him. He pressed a hand to his forehead, and looked him over with wide, worried eyes, and then turned to Draco. “What happened? Where are his clothes?”

“I don't know,” Draco answered. “Weasley banished them and then he tried to...” Draco trailed off. “I don't know what happened. One moment I was trying to get away from Finnegan and to help Harry and the next...I felt like my head was going to explode, and suddenly Weasley and Finnegan were unconscious. They're over there.” Harry assumed that Draco had pointed, as from his position he could not see their attackers.

“I'm taking these two straight to the Aurors,” Sirius said in a low growl, completely ignoring Harry's feeble protests. “I want you to take Harry back to the flat, get him some clothes, and call Madam Pomfrey with the Floo, it'll be faster than by owl.”

“Shouldn't he go to St. Mungo's?”

“No,” Sirius said at once, much to Harry's relief. “Emergency rooms for people with Harry's condition can get complicated, I'll explain later. Just go. I will be there soon.”

Harry listened to the conversation, but despite his attempts to protest, especially to Sirius's intent to take Ron and Seamus to the Aurors, his mouth refused to work properly, and instead he felt Draco pull him close and drag him into Side-Along Apparition.

They reappeared at home, in the sitting room. Harry's knees buckled as Draco tried to help him stand, and wrapped an arm around his waist as he helped Harry to his room. He was shaking, and he was grateful for the blanket around him.

Draco eased him down onto the bed, but Harry remained sitting up as he watched Draco putter around in his wardrobe, and pulled out a T-shirt, pyjama bottoms, and socks for him. Harry looked on with a daze, the entire situation felt strangely surreal. Ron and Seamus attacking them, Draco taking care of him...Harry shook his head minutely, but the information refused to sink in.

Draco dropped to his knees in front of Harry, and began to pull away the blanket. Harry's hands tensed around it, and Draco frowned.

“Harry,” he said softly, “please, let me help you.” Harry didn't answer, but looked away from the blond. How could Draco even look at him after that? He hissed a curse as his eyes stung, and he clenched them shut as he tried to calm down.

A pair of lips caressed his own, so gently that it was barely counted as a genuine kiss. Draco's hand cupped his cheek, and his thumb brushed across his skin lightly.

“You are a man to me. No matter what your body looks like, you will always be male in my eyes,” Draco said in a soft but firm tone of voice. “Nothing, and I mean nothing could change that.”

Harry finally looked up to him, and he found himself mildly startled by the firm, determined look in his eyes. Too tired to put up much of a fight, he loosed his hold on the blanket, and Draco pulled it down to pool at his hips while he helped him into the T-shirt, and after a moment's hesitation on Harry's part, he allowed Draco to help him with the bottom garment as well. His expression never changed, and he looked upon Harry as he always had. This did not stop Harry from feeling infantile and emasculated, but he could see Draco trying his best to not let Harry feel weak and helpless.

The T-shirt appeared to be a bad idea, as the hexes that had hit him was still bleeding, and it stained the light blue a deep red. Harry eased back onto his pillows, as covertly as he could draped an arm across his chest, and Draco leant in to kiss him once more.

“I'll be back in a moment,” he said softly, “I just need to call for Madam Pomfrey, all right?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded silently. Draco watched him for a moment longer, then swept from the room.

His bedroom was silent, and distantly Harry could hear the low murmur of Draco speaking, presumably talking to Pomfrey, and again he felt a wave of shame and misery wash over him. How could he have let this happen? Harry turned his head to the side and buried his face in his pillow, his tears staining the fabric. He breathed deeply, but it did not help in ridding him of this fresh wave of anguish. Despite the dull ache that consumed his chest, Harry was still so tired from everything that had happened in such short a time, and before he knew what was happening, he fell asleep.

When Harry next woke, he was acutely aware of several things all at once.

The first was someone had removed his glasses.

The second was Draco, sitting in a chair next to his bed and bowed forward to rest his upper arms on the mattress, and his head was pillowed against them, one of his hands a hairsbreadth from Harry's, positioned in such a way that he was left feeling quite certain that he'd fallen asleep holding Harry's hand.

The final thing was the lack of pain in his chest and stomach, and he looked down and tugged up his shirt to see that the cuts had been mended, and nothing but a pearlescent scars remained.

Something must have alerted Draco to his waking as he stirred, and his eyes flicked open. Harry dropped the hem of his shirt and instinctively draped an arm across his chest to hide the distinct curve.

“Hey,” Draco said a little groggily as he woke, “how are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess,” Harry said, sitting up slowly. “Where's my...?” he trailed off, and Draco handed him the chest binder. He accepted it with a weak smile, and Draco turned around as Harry pulled off the T-shirt and pulled it on, then layered the shirt over it. He immediately felt ten times calmer. Draco turned back around and shifted from the chair to the bed, and cradled Harry's cheek while he leaned in to kiss him.

“What happened?” Harry asked when Draco pulled back and pressed his glasses into his hands. Harry pulled them on and reached for Draco's hands to keep him from going too far. “I mean, one second Ron was about to—then, I don't remember.”

Draco didn't answer straightaway, his gaze dropping to their linked hands. It was only then that Harry was able to have a good look at him. He did not look nearly as put-together as usual, his hair was slightly mussed and there were dark circles under his eyes. His skin had taken on a sallow tint, and though he had been sleeping when Harry woke, he still looked exhausted.

“It was...me, I think,” Draco said, his voice soft. “I saw what Weasley was about to do and I...I snapped. It was like a switch was flicked in my mind, and I screamed, and then I just...saw white. When my vision cleared Weasley and Finnegan were unconscious, and you were in a heap and still bleeding...I conjured a blanket for you and called Sirius.”

“You did accidental magic?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded, looking troubled. “You never have before, have you?”

“I've...heard about it, but even when I was young I was taught to channel my magic, I've never lost control before, not like that. It sort of, came out all at once, Madam Pomfrey gave me some potions for exhaustion, but...” Draco cut himself off with a shake, still looking troubled.

Harry didn't quite understand Draco's unnerved reaction to performing accidental magic for the first time, though he supposed it likely had something to do with the power behind it. In an effort to calm him down, or distract him, Harry wasn't fussed with which, he leant forward and kissed him.

“No matter what the cause or the...spark, you saved me,” Harry murmured softly, “thank you.”

Draco stretched out next to him, and Harry curled up into his embrace, pressing his cheek against Draco's firm chest.

“Why did Sirius not want you to go to St. Mungo's?” Draco asked, and Harry looked up at him, silent for a moment while he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Going into an emergency room—it doesn't matter if it's magical or muggle—when you're like me can be complex,” Harry began, frowning as he tried to work out how to best explain it. “There have been a handful of times I've needed to be rushed to an emergency room, and I've been refused treatment because the doctors or nurses claim that they have no idea how to treat someone like me. They won't even touch at me, like I have spattergroit or something. I mean, it doesn't happen every time, but enough that Sirius won't take me to a Healer unless I'm like...dying.”

“Every time I think I've heard the worst of this, You tell me something that makes me detest the human race all the more,” Draco murmured, tightening his hold on Harry slightly. “Maybe I should just hex the entirety of London, just to be safe.”

“Wouldn't it just be easier to hex the offending party instead?” Harry asked with a small smile, and Draco chuckled softly.

“Tell me what's happening with...Ron and Seamus,” Harry prompted, in an effort to steer the conversation back to more pressing matters. Despite his efforts to sound nonchalant, his voice dropped to a level just barely above a whisper. Draco's hand moved to caress Harry's hair, and Harry leant into the touch.

“Sirius is pressing charges on the grounds of magical and sexual assault, harassment, and hate crimes. There's enough evidence that we don't need to bring your status into it, unless you want to,” Draco said, his voice edged with anger. “They're in holding cells at Azkaban until their trials, and Sirius wanted to go over everything with you before he made a decision on what to do.”

“Hang on,” Harry said, sitting up a little, “at—I mean, when Ron and Seamus came after us, they were able to talk about it, my being trans, I mean. Did you talk about that with Sirius?”

“I did,” Draco said with a nod. “He said it was a magical loophole with the curse. Since everyone present knew about you, the curse did not see the need to tie their tongues.”

“Oh.” Harry eased back down, and stared past Draco as he went over what he'd been told. He'd like to adjust the curse, knowing that, but Harry worried that it would hinder Hermione or Draco's ability to discuss it with him. He didn't want that. Harry knew now that there were some times when it was all right to acknowledge his transness, and to accept it, rather than pretend it didn't exist. He shifted closer to Draco, just as someone tapped on his door.

“Am I interrupting?” Sirius asked as he poked his head in, grinning at the pair. Harry felt himself flush, and he chuckled softly. “There's a young lady here who is quite beside herself, and threatening to hex me if she can't see with her own two eyes that you two are alive.”

“You mean Hermione, right?” Harry asked uncertainly, and Sirius chuckled, then nodded. “Okay, let her in.”

Sirius looked at them once more, then opened the door wider to show Hermione, her face tear-stained as she rushed in and dragged Harry into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hermione—” Harry choked, “Can't—breathe—”

“Oh, Harry, I'm sorry,” she released him quickly and sat at the end of the bed, while Sirius left them to it. “I was just so worried, after I heard what happened. Oh, it's probably a good thing Ron's being held by the Aurors, because I would have hunted him down and killed him.”

Harry smiled weakly, though it shifted to genuine amusement when he turned and saw the look of bewilderment on Draco's face while he tried to work out whether or not she was joking. “Are you two okay though? Have you decided what you're going to do about the trial?”

“I'm all right,” Harry said, and paused when Draco nodded his agreement to her question, “the trial...honestly, I have no idea. I mean, I can't ignore Ron's antics anymore, but I don't know if I could face him again...”

“You don't have to,” Hermione said at once, “you're a trauma victim, they wouldn't force you to be there when they tried them. You can give your side of the story privately, and we provide evidence to back up that they've been at this for months, and then they'll be tried based on what we present. I've been reading about it, ever since Sirius handed them over to the Aurors.”

“Hermione, it's been like two days, have you even slept?” Harry asked, and she smiled, shrugging her shoulders vaguely.

Harry shook his head with a faint smile, unsurprised that like so many times in their youth, Hermione seemed to have absorbed everything that she could on the topic. Grateful that he was for it, it never ceased to amuse him.

With Draco's arms still around him, they fell into casual conversation, steering clear of the topic of what had happened, the impending trial, and everything else. For the moment, the allowed themselves to be teenagers, and Harry had never been more grateful for Hermione reigning her curiosity in.

~*~

The day Harry was to be questioned, he was quite certain he was going to puke on the questioner. His stomach was tied up in knots, and the only thing that kept him from bolting in the opposite direction was Draco's hand in his, and Sirius at his back. He caught a few people staring as he passed, and the hissing whisper that followed. He guessed it was in relation to him holding hands with Draco Malfoy but he couldn't care less what they thought. Harry had the feeling it was getting to Draco however, and he offered the slightly clammy in his hand a small squeeze, which Draco was quick to return.

They passed through the Atrium in silence and took the lift down to the Auror Offices. It was busy, with men and women in dusky blue robes sweeping past them with barely a second glance. They stopped before a nondescript wooden door with the words, Auror S. Ambergris and Auror T. Newcastle(Trainee) upon it. Sirius lifted his fist to the door, and knocked twice.

The door swung open at once, revealing an older woman, her grey curls pulled back into a low ponytail, and though she looked to be in her sixties, her bright hazel eyes were still alight with youthful energy.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, Mr Black,” she greeted with a soft smile, “so good of you to come. I'm Auror Sophie Ambergris, and I will be conducting the questioning pertaining to your case. If you would come in,” she stepped aside and let the three men in, closing the door firmly behind her, then flicked her wand at it, while she muttered under her breath.

Three chairs had been set up before one of the desks that occupied the office, and Harry sat upon the centre one, Draco and Sirius sitting on either side of him. He felt warm and safe, bracketed by his boyfriend and his godfather, despite the questioning he'd have to endure. Sirius gave his upper arm a reassuring squeeze as the Auror sat down, and Draco took his hand.

“All right Mr Potter, what do you say we start at the beginning?” Auror Ambergris prompted with a kind smile. She took out a scroll of parchment and an electric blue quill, which balanced perfectly upon the parchment, waiting for them to speak. Harry eyed it dubiously, and when he did not offer up any information willingly, she tried again. “What can you tell me about the first attack?”

“Um...” Harry felt his breath catch, and Draco gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Ron and Seamus discovered something personal about me, it's private,” he added quickly when it looked like she was going to ask him what. “And I don't think it's really important what it is, just that, well, they didn't agree with it, so much so that they felt like they had to try pushing me out of Gryffindor. They attacked me in Hogsmeade over it, then after I went to the Matron to get myself cleaned up, they'd gone after my belongings and destroyed everything except for the stuff I'd hidden.”

“Did it not occur to you to contact the authorities? I'm sure you realize that that qualifies as a hate crime and harassment,” Ambergris interjected gently, and Harry looked from her to the quill, which was whizzing across the parchment, writing down every word they'd said so far.

“I went to the Headmistress,” Harry said, defensively, “she suggested it, so did practically everyone else, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Were you perhaps concerned that the blame for the attack would be laid upon you?”

“I—how did you know that?” Harry asked as he stared at her, and she smiled faintly.

“Victim-blaming, as I understand it, is rife throughout the muggle legal system, but it is not a practice we wizards engage in,” she said simply. “What happened after that?”

“Well, I went to the Headmistress, like I said, and she expelled them. After that not much happened for a while. I mean, Ron sent me a couple cursed letters, trying to force me to come clean about—about my secret, but my friend Hermione Granger had picked up on the fact that they were cursed, and I would just burn them instead of touching them or anything. Then when I went to Diagon Alley with Draco and some others, we were ambushed by them when we were alone.”

Harry paused, his voice momentarily failing as images of the attack surfaced into his mind. Draco's hand in his kept him from falling back into his memories, and he took a shuddering breath as he strove to continue.

“Seamus restrained Draco and Ron went after me. He cursed me a few times with slicing hexes, then he stripped me and pinned me to a wall and threatened to—to—” Harry choked, and his eyes stung.

“Weasley was prepared to assault him, and made a lot of crude remarks relating to his intentions,” Draco filled in, “I lost control of my magic, and stunned them both, I am uncertain how, or what I did. After that I tended to Harry as best I could and called Sirius.”

The quill tumbled down onto the parchment, and Auror Ambergris observed them with keen, searching eyes. Harry shifted his gaze to his lap.

“I can proceed with the information you have given me, sexual assault, even attempted sexual assault carries a heavy prison sentence. But it would help in keeping them behind bars longer if I were to know the motive behind the attacks upon your person,” the Auror said gently, but Harry couldn't fathom letting anyone else in.

Harry shook his head mutely.

“Harry,” Sirius said gently, “you can tell her. Whatever you say in here will not leave this room.”

“He is correct Mr Potter,” she added with a kind smile, “I would not betray your trust. Whatever it is, knowing it would only strengthen your case.”

Harry clenched his hands into fists, but didn't look up.

“Harry,” Draco murmured, “where is that vaunted Gryffindor courage of yours? The curse is still in place, and you know it is safe to tell her.”

Harry looked up at last, feeling less protected now by Draco and Sirius's presence, and cornered instead. He looked back to the woman, and he knew that they were all right, it was safe to tell her, but what if she reacted like Ron or Seamus had? At the thought of Ron and Seamus, receiving a shorter sentence because he was too afraid to be honest bolstered him however, and he pushed forward.

“Um, I'm a female-to-male transsexual,” Harry mumbled without looking up. “They didn't exactly agree with that.”

In the silence that followed, Harry chanced a careful glance up, and though she appeared surprised, there was amusement in her eyes. How on earth could she find amusement in any of this?

“Oh my dear, you absolutely can trust that I will not even try to divulge your secret,” she said with a smile. She cast a quick look to Sirius and Draco, then refocused her attention upon Harry. “You see...I was born under a different name...Stanley Ambergris.”

Harry's mouth dropped open.

“I trust that you will not divulge my biological history, and in turn I will not divulge yours,” she continued, smiling warmly at him. “We are everywhere, Mr Potter, and I understand very well your desire to be left in peace and to not be regarded like...a freak.” She winced at her word choice, but Harry nodded fervently. This person, this adult grew up like he did. Harry didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the coincidence.

“Your attackers are being tried in seclusion as it is,” she continued, “there is absolutely no risk that any of this will hit the papers.”

“I—thank you,” Harry said, “looking back, I kind of wish I'd thought to do all this sooner.”

“You are now,” she replied with another smile, “and that is what counts, don't you agree?”

They spent another hour with Auror Ambergris, then she pressed a small piece of parchment into his hand, with a knowing look in her eye. Harry waited until he got home and was alone to read it.

Always keep fighting, Harry.
Send me an owl if you ever wish to talk with someone who's been right where you are.
-Sophie

Harry was glad that he was alone, and he let the tears flow.

~*~

In the weeks to come, Harry had no idea how he managed to get from one day to the next. Hermione had put off her trip until Ron and Seamus's trials were concluded, and when Harry wasn't glued at the hip to Draco, he was with her. He couldn't help the ever-present worry that somehow they would get off and come looking for payback.

“Harry, stop worrying,” she said gently but firmly as she dumped a styrofoam container of muggle takeaway in his lap and sat across from him on the carpet of his room. “You gave the Aurors more than enough to put them away for a long time. There's no way they'll get off.”

“With that, you've probably just jinxed it,” Harry replied sourly as he popped open the container and pulled out the foil-wrapped gyro.

“I am not,” she said while she glared at him and opened her own container while she picked up a fork. “You have nothing to worry about.”

They ate in silence, Harry devouring the wrap a little too fast, and got tzatziki all down his front, which he spelled clean before Hermione could comment on it.

A soft tapping on his door interrupted the peaceful quiet, and Harry looked up as Sirius opened the door to look in on them.

“You two busy? A very pompous-looking owl just delivered a letter for you,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows significantly. Harry's breath hitched, stood up too quickly, and his head spun. Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him, then they followed Sirius out to the sitting room, where Draco was already waiting. Harry guessed that Sirius had called him before knocking on his door.

Draco went to him immediately and kissed him hard, his fingers lacing with Harry's free hand, and Harry staggered back a little in surprise at the force of it. Hermione let him go and flushing a deep scarlet, he turned to Sirius, who was smiling at the pair warmly. Draco held onto him securely as Sirius handed over the small scroll, and Harry broke the seal while Hermione and Sirius crowded him to read over his shoulder.

23^rd July, 1999
Wizengamot Trials #203354

Dear Mr Potter,

This letter is to inform you of the verdicts for the trials of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Seamus Finnegan.

On the charges of physical assault, magical assault, harassment, verbal harassment, attempted cursing, and attempted sexual assault, Ronald Bilius Weasley is to serve twenty-seven years at Azkaban Prison, with possibility for parole after fifteen, unless you wish to contest it at that time.

On the charges of physical assault, harassment, and aiding and abetting, Seamus Finnegan is to serve fifteen years at Azkaban Prison, with possibility for parole after eight. Once more, you may contest it when the time comes if you so wish.

Regards,

Percy Weasley
Junior Minister for Magic, sixth seat at the Wizengamot

The following cheers were so loud that they barely heard the thumping sound of a broom on Mrs Downstairs's ceiling over it. Harry threw himself at Draco in a bone crushing hug, and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Hermione threw herself over the two, and Sirius completed the group hug. All thought of dignity forgotten, Draco accepted it, tears of joy streaking his cheeks as he drew Harry in for a kiss.

“This calls for a celebration!” Sirius cried as he let them go. Harry broke the kiss to look up at his godfather, who was brandishing his wand, and with a few flicks the flat was adorned with streamers and shining baubles, and a spread of food winked into existence upon the dining room table, complete with more than enough malt beverage to keep them going for a while.

Though Harry had just eaten, he had no objections to more food in light of the good news, and they loaded their plates, filled their glasses, and Harry stood at the head of the table, glass high as he looked over all the people who meant the most to him in the world.

“To the quiet life,” Harry said, “finally.”
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Black Me Out