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Building With Worn-Out Tools	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 54266 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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.

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Chapter Nine—The Rebuttal

            Harry shook his head and blinked for a moment as he watched Malfoy move to confront Zabini and Ginny. He had never heard a speech that seemed to convey so much truth.

            Then he reminded himself that, of course, he was thinking that because the speech applied to him and reflected what he most believed was true, and he would like anything that discredited Ginny right now. He couldn’t really trust Malfoy’s words. He had a purpose in producing them, and that purpose was one that Harry might or might not agree with.

            But the mere fact that Malfoy could speak words like those was a sign of power.

            Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as Malfoy inclined his head politely, probably in a sign for Zabini and Ginny to begin the questioning. He was grateful to Malfoy. Malfoy had handed him back permission to be angry, and he was extremely unlikely to lose this case.

            It was only wise to be wary around Malfoy, of course.

            For the first time, Harry felt that those things about Malfoy he should beware of were rather more interesting than before.

*

            Draco felt Blaise’s eyes on him from the front and Potter’s eyes on him from the back as he stood there and waited for the first round of questions. Weasley had turned her head into Blaise’s shoulder, as if, by ignoring him, she could make him go away.

            Draco was still trying to decide which man he liked having look at him more—Blaise’s eyes held outraged indignation and deadly intent, Potter’s respect and new calculation—when the questions began.

            “You gave a very convincing speech on the merits of Mrs. Potter,” said Blaise, in a tone whose sarcasm was not even subtle. Draco privately marked him down for it and nodded a bit. “What makes you think, however, that Potter didn’t conspire just as much to destroy their marriage? What makes him the saint you claim him to be? We have only your word, after all, and his.”

            “You misunderstood me,” said Draco, quietly. One of the most effective techniques he had discovered in the courtroom was to keep his voice soft while his opponent shouted or tried to intimidate him by raising his volume. His father had once used that tactic too, in his prime, and so had Snape. “Potter isn’t a saint. He’s a man. That’s what Mrs. Potter couldn’t deal with. She wanted a hero.”

            “It’s still only your word against ours,” Blaise insisted.

            “There is a newspaper article printed last week in the Daily Prophet that would argue otherwise.” Draco took a quick glance at Weasley, but she still hid her face. Draco wondered if she was crying. He hoped so. “Mrs. Potter has been planning her conquest of Mr. Potter for most of her life. Such a shame that that conquest didn’t go the way she expected.”

            “What proof do you have?” Blaise asked.

            Draco laughed. “More than you’ve provided,” he said. “The article plus the claims that Potter made, and the information he gave me about his married life. Why don’t you present your side of the case, Mr. Zabini? I welcome it. I am curious how Mrs. Potter views her married life.”

            Blaise’s mouth opened, and then snapped shut, and he glared furiously. Draco smiled at him, almost delighted that he’d seen through the trap. If Blaise had accepted the invitation to present his side of the case, he couldn’t have asked Draco any further questions. He had read up on divorce law in the week since Draco had seen him last.

            Not enough to defeat me, of course.

            “I’ll stick to questions for now, thank you,” Blaise said, the steel behind his words shining openly. “Tell me, are you convinced, from what Potter’s told you, that he was totally and completely faithful to his wife?”

            “I am. He was too tired to have the energy for affairs.”

            Blaise put an arm around Weasley. “That’s not what Ginny told me.”

            “Of course it’s not.” Draco yawned in his face. “But, again, you need to provide a bit more proof, Mr. Zabini. If all we have is our word, that is also all you have. Present me with some evidence, and I might believe you.”

            “I have photographs,” said Blaise.

            Draco nodded, wondering which photographer Blaise had visited to have the pictures altered. He did not believe for one moment they were real. Since Blaise must know that they couldn’t hope to win against Draco within the realm of case law, their best course would be to work in the newspapers outside the courtroom. They would have published the photographs, and the wizarding world would have shrieked in glee as it turned against Harry Potter, again.

            Draco was well-aware of how dangerous Potter’s publicity could be. But he also knew the way Blaise’s mind worked, and he would have pursued that course of action if it was at all feasible, which meant it wasn’t.

            Glaring harder than ever, as if he could make Draco reconsider his decision about which client to fight for, Blaise pulled out a thick envelope and tossed it to him. Draco slit the envelope open with a quick charm and let the glossy pictures inside spill out into his hand.

            One look and he rolled his eyes. Blaise had hoped to gain ground not with an obvious forgery but with obscurity. The pictures showed only a dark-haired wizard ducking into a doorway, and a mostly naked witch leaning out the window above the door and grinning in anticipation. The wizard roughly fit Potter’s height and hair coloring, but so did a quarter of the young man their age in Britain. Draco looked up, only to shake his head when he found Blaise watching him.

            “Shall I take these to Madam Witherbone?” he asked.

            Blaise nodded and sat back with a slight smile. He knew he hadn’t convinced Draco, but doubtless he hoped that the Judge was more susceptible of persuasion.

            Draco carried the pictures ceremoniously to her, and she spent a long time examining them. While watching her with one eye, Draco caught sight of a motion in his peripheral vision, and looked that way to see Potter leaning forwards in his chair, visibly anxious.

            Draco didn’t have to turn his head again to know that Blaise would be watching Potter keenly, judging the effect of this revelation on him.

            Idiot. Potter would have done better to ride this out in cool indifference, since he knew he hadn’t cheated and therefore there was no possible way for Blaise to have real pictures of him doing so.

            And in the thunderclap that always struck Draco when he figured out an opponent, he knew what the cornerstone of Blaise’s strategy would be. He and Weasley would attack Potter, not Draco, rightly assuming Draco was immune to all but the most sophisticated manipulation. If they could make Potter weaken and crack, it would not really matter whether Draco and the judge believed them or not. Potter had never dealt well with public attention in the past and he wouldn’t deal well with it now.

            Draco blinked a bit. He would talk with Potter again this evening about composing himself in public and remembering that he was the aggrieved party in this trial, not his wife. It wouldn’t cure the idiot’s nerves, but it might help to settle them a bit.

            “Insufficient evidence,” said Judge Witherbone at last, looking up and tossing the pictures down to Draco. Her voice was bored. “Once again, Mrs. Potter claims that it was Mr. Potter entering this house, and of course Mr. Potter claims that he has not cheated, is that correct?” She looked towards their side of the courtroom.

            At least Potter’s nod was cool, sober, and controlled, Draco thought. He would have to remember to compliment him for that later.

            “Insufficient evidence,” Judge Witherbone repeated. “Do you have more questions, Mr. Zabini?”

            Blaise shook his head. He looked more composed than he had a few moments ago, too, Draco thought. Doubtless he thought that since his first tactic had indeed shaken Potter, future ones would work just as well.

            “Then you must present your rebuttal of Mr. Malfoy’s claims,” said Witherbone.

            Draco hid a grin. She sounded bored. Of course, that could change in a moment, but it was an excellent sign both as an indicator of her own mood and what the wider wizarding world was feeling about the trial at this moment.

            Oddly enough, Weasley rose to her feet alone to present the rebuttal. Her face was pale, but not as tear-streaked as Draco had imagined it would be. As he carried the pictures back to Blaise, he had the chance to study her closely. She gave him a look of controlled hatred.

            They’ve had time to plan. And though they might not have enough power to win right now, they’re planning to put that power to good use.

            In fact, that was probably why Weasley was speaking first, Draco thought. She knew that she could more effectively target Potter than Blaise could.

            Draco walked in a leisurely fashion back towards Potter, making sure to send as many warnings as he could with his eyes. Potter, of course, just looked confused. Draco rolled his eyes, sat down, and leaned quickly across to breathe into his ear, noting absently that the git shivered when he did so.

            “Don’t let her get to you.”

            “That might be impossible,” said Potter, with a wry tone in his voice that Draco couldn’t remember hearing from him before.

            “Just do the best you can,” he murmured, annoyed, and then turned to see what Weasley would do.

            She stood alone in the middle of the courtroom for a moment, her head lifted, as if she were beautiful and knew it, and wanted to give a much vaster audience, rather than one besotted person, one confused one, and two currently hostile ones, a chance to admire her. Draco studied her as objectively as he could, and then shook his head. He didn’t think she was beautiful. Maybe it was just the Weasley red hair, against which he had numerous prejudices, but he thought it was more likely the way she carried herself. She had the air of someone who would stand up in the face of everything that came her way, not bowing even when it could earn her more favor later or when the person facing her deserved her respect and gratitude. There was far too much of the spoiled child in her.

            Of course, I should recognize that, Draco thought. Until sixth year in Hogwarts, there had still been far too much of the spoiled child in him.

            Weasley turned so that she was gazing at Potter, and stayed gazing at him as she began to speak. That reassured Draco his guess had been right, at least. Blaise was someone whose mind could challenge Draco’s own when he remembered to exercise it; Weasley wasn’t subtle. If their strategy had been to influence the judge instead, she would have looked in that direction. If they had done the impossible and gone up against the fortress of calm that was Draco’s own personality, she would have faced him and made her eyes even more doe-like.

            “My life with Harry was never to my liking,” Weasley said softly. “I thought it would be. I dreamed of it for so long. And sometimes there were flashes of the man I knew I was destined for. In my first year at Hogwarts when he rescued me, for example, or in my fifth year, when he made it clear that he loved me and wanted to keep me out of the battle only to keep me safe.”

            Draco resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. If Potter had really loved and trusted her, he would have taken Weasley into battle alongside him, and protected her that way. Their marriage had never been destined to work. That, Weasley was right about.

            “And then he returned, and refused to do anything.” Annoyance sharpened Weasley’s voice, and Draco gave his head a tiny shake. If this was typical of the complaints she had given Potter over the years, Blaise was stupid to let her argue on her own. Potter would be inured to these by now. “He said he’d had enough of fighting in the war and was too wounded to play Quidditch.

            “I knew those for what they were. Excuses.

            “He’d received a curse from You-Know-Who—“

            Draco felt Potter tense beside him, and guessed he was resisting the temptation to shout out that she should just speak the Dark Lord’s name. He put a hand on the other man’s arm, to ensure it remained a temptation. Potter shifted, his muscles rippling, and then let his breath out soundlessly.

            “—that made him lose control of his magic when he got angry. He couldn’t comprehend getting past that and trying to find work anyway, or trying to find work that wouldn’t lose him his temper. He simply lay around the house all day. Is that any way for a hero to act?” Weasley paused dramatically. Then she finished with a flourish, “And he put my life in danger every time he lost his temper.”

            Potter stiffened with shock beside him, and Draco guessed that was new. He pressed his hand down harder. Potter only glanced at him, nodded a little, and then looked back at Weasley.

            She’s trying to play on your guilt complex, Draco thought at him, as hard as he could. Don’t fall for it.

            “I never knew when a painting would fall from the walls, or a vase would fly across the room, or the windows would slam open,” Weasley continued, her voice swelling. “I woke up sometimes and was startled to find myself still alive, since I thought he might kill me in one of his nightmares. Too many times I had to keep myself calm and meek around him, suppressing my own desires and instincts, because he would hurt me otherwise.”

            Potter’s breathing was fast and stifled. Draco touched a hand to the nape of his neck out of sight, hoping that would help calm him.

            “If we’d had our child, I would have been constantly afraid for the baby’s safety, too.” Weasley put a hand on her belly, all the while looking steadily at Potter. “And that’s the reason I didn’t tell him that I had begun to fancy Blaise when I first did. He would have flown apart at me, and I was afraid.

            “I want this divorce to be out of the house, to be safe from him. He’s a failure, but I could have lived with that. I couldn’t live with both the dissolution of my dreams about him and the dissolution of my hopes for a safe marriage if not a happy one all at once.” She glanced at Judge Witherbone for the first time. “Do feel free to laugh at me as a little girl who dreamed of things she shouldn’t have. But I think the constant fear in which I lived is punishment enough.”

            She bowed her head to indicate she’d finished.

            Judge Witherbone looked at them, and Draco knew he could begin his rebuttal. He opened his mouth to ask a question.

            Potter got there first.

            “If you were that afraid, Gin,” he said, his voice roughened, “why didn’t you ever tell me? I would have tried even harder to find a cure for my magic.”

            Weasley sighed. “Can you ask, Harry?” She put out one hand as if she were about to clasp his, and then drew it back and laid it on her belly instead. “I was afraid that you would be angry that I was afraid.”

            “I would not have,” Potter said.

            “How could I know that, when you lost your temper over relatively minor things all the time?”

            Potter opened his mouth again, and Draco tightened the hold on his arm once more. This time, Potter sat back and let Draco lean forwards. “If you were that afraid, Mrs. Potter,” he asked, remembering her married name just in time, “why did you tell my client about your affair the way you did? You could easily have been killed when he found out you had cheated on him.”

            “Blaise had advised me to leave at once after I told him,” said Weasley. “I wasn’t in that much danger.”

            “But a letter would have accomplished the same mission,” Draco said. “Why didn’t you use that instead?”

            “It had to be face-to-face.” Weasley lowered her eyelashes in a gesture of false humility that was never going to work on Draco. “I had that much loyalty, as a wife speaking to her husband.”

            “If you were in fear for your life, and the life of your new child, and had already cheated on your husband for months?” Draco looked at her squarely and made his tone calm and patient. “I find that hard to believe.”

            Weasley’s face flushed. “I chose to act as I did, Malfoy, for motivations that you cannot possibly comprehend. Romantic love and love of family, among others.”

            Draco smiled, reassured. If Potter was the weak point of his own case, Weasley was the weak chink in Blaise’s armor. He was already clenching his hands now, as if he would like to prevent the continuation of the questioning but knew he couldn’t.

            Draco really had only one more question that he wanted to ask, however.

            “No need to become personal, Mrs. Potter,” he said. “I asked a rational question about your safety. I didn’t insult you.” He paused thoughtfully. “Tell me, do you think that keeping secrets from your husband, the way you did for most of your life together, qualifies your marriage as a healthy one?”

            “It was never healthy, because of his temper,” Weasley replied quickly.



            “But did your secrets help?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I am merely trying to find out how committed you were to making your marriage thrive. You have admitted that your husband disappointed and frightened you. And yet, you stayed with him for five years, and now you seek divorce from him, in a situation that will surely raise his temper and force his hand, instead of separating as quietly as possible. Does that sound like someone committed to a marriage to you? If you heard this story from a stranger, what would you think of it?”

            “I do not need to answer that,” said Weasley.

            Draco just smiled at her, and then up at Judge Witherbone. “No more questions,” he said.

            “Then I dismiss you all until three days hence,” said Witherbone, with a stoic expression on her face, and she rose and exited the courtroom.

            Draco took Potter’s arm and escorted him out of there. He could see Blaise doing the same thing with Weasley. His face was shadowed, and his eyes bored into Draco when they met.

            Draco gave him a little smile and a bow. He was sure Blaise would focus on strengthening Weasley for their next round as well as attacking Potter.

            He, of course, would focus on Potter and seek to weaken Weasley. But he had other tactics up his sleeve as well.

            And he was sure he could do the task of strengthening better than Blaise. After all, he had superior materials to work with.

*

            Smokey: I started posting the story later on FanfictionNet, so I’m also updating there more slowly.

            Maizeysugah: Some of what Ginny and Blaise plan is revealed in this chapter. I already know what the ultimate denouement of the story is going to be, but they’ll do plenty of smaller things in the meantime.

            Soria: I am writing this many stories at once because the characters don’t shut up until I write them. The stress is actually greater when I have ideas and don’t work on them.

            Yukiko_Angel: You can certainly be on alert, but I didn’t see an e-mail address for you.

            777: You can also be on alert, but I also don’t know your e-mail address.
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Building With Worn-Out Tools

Chapter Nine—The Rebuttal