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The Devil You Know	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2281 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 1-Taken
- 2-Hostage
- 3-Survival
- 4-Home
- 5-Aftermath
- 6-Suspicions
- 7-Confessions
- 8-Recovery
- 9-Verdict
- 8
- 9
A/N: I tried to keep the court hearings and things as realistic as possible, however I didn't have access to internet for long periods of time when I was writing this, and I couldn't research the UK legal system as much as I needed to, so this is more loosely based on the Canadian court system, rather than the British one where the canon isn't as clear as to what goes on. (I am Canadian, in case that wasn't obvious, haha) I apologize for the delay in posting this, but an impromptu pet emergency to the vet ate up a lot of my fanfic time recently.

There is a bit of a Canon Divergence towards the end of this chapter, which was deliberate.
Chapter Nine – Verdict

Draco did not look at his parents, nor those assembled as he stood on weak legs and stepped down the passageway and towards the doors. His solicitor continued to smile at him kindly, but it felt like empty sentiment to Draco as he continued to walk forward and struggled to brace himself to face Harry.

When he crossed into the courtroom, his eyes immediately zeroed in on Harry. He was seated off to one side, his wrists bound, and an Auror was seated next to him, likely to keep him from escaping. Draco's his vision began to swim as Harry smiled at him; it was a familiar, warm smile that Draco knew well, but this time, it did not reach his eyes.

A hand on Draco's shoulder caused him to jump, and he whirled around to see his solicitor standing at his side.

“Come along,” he whispered softly, “I know you're scared, but he can't hurt you in here. You're safe.”

Draco doubted how safe he actually was, but nodded nonetheless as he stepped towards the chair in the centre of the room.

The chains on the armrests clinked ominously when Draco sat down, but unlike when he'd been here for his Death Eater trial some years prior, they did not bind him. He looked up to the assembled Wizengamot, and realized with a start that he did not recognize any of the faces staring down at him. He relaxed a little; if it was people that he did not know, chances are that meant that they did not personally know Harry either, and they were more likely to get a fair trial.

“You are Draco Lucius Malfoy?” the Chief Warlock asked in a neutral as he looked down his nose at Draco.

“Yes, sir.”

“Resident of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you claim that on the twelfth of August, Mr Harry Potter kidnapped you with intent to harm.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied evenly, and there was a low murmur of dissent through the court. Draco gritted his teeth, but he did not rise to the disbelief of the court. They'd expected this, after all, and he needed to keep his head if they were to have any hope of coming out of this with Harry locked away.

“And what proof do you have of these allegations?”

“Mr Potter was questioned under Veritaserum and gave a full confession, as you know, Chief Warlock,” interrupted his solicitor, “he admitted to kidnapping Mr Malfoy with the intent to rape and murder, and further did attempt to rape him, and spent five days keeping Mr Malfoy trapped in that wood, with the intent to attempt to coerce him into having sex with him. The only reason that Mr Malfoy sits here before us now is due to his unwillingness to bend his beliefs for a pushy significant other.”

“Is this true, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco nodded.

“Please tell us in your exact words what occurred during your time in the forest, Mr Malfoy,” the Chief Warlock said, as though he was struggling to believe what Harry had admitted to was in any way true.

Draco immediately launched into his story, and made sure to include every tiny detail that he could. As he spoke, he could see the faces of the Wizengamot begin to darken, though it was difficult to tell if that was because of what he was saying, or if they didn't believe him. Draco kept his eyes on the Chief Warlock, and tried to ignore the way Harry's eyes seemed to burn into him.

“Tell me, Mr Malfoy,” a man said suddenly, and he stood up from where he'd been sitting, and Draco realized with a jolt that this was Harry's solicitor. He was certainly a Slytherin alumni, he practically exuded an air of cold cunning and ambition; however, Draco could not recall ever meeting someone formerly of his house that made his skin crawl like this. “You say that you practice the old ways, and Mr Potter has never been shy in his attitude towards dating and sexuality. Couldn't it be possible that you provoked him to do this?”

“Provoked?” Draco demanded, and clutched the armrests more tightly in an effort to keep himself calm, despite the rising anger that he felt creeping up his throat, and threatening to burst out. “I don't understand you.”

“Often, Mr Potter has proclaimed that you are a—in his words—tease. You would lead him on, then not continue things, using your intent to remain celibate until marriage to stave him off. In addition, as I understand it, he has proposed to you on a number of occasions, only to have you reject him each time.”

“That—I—that is—that's ridiculous,” Draco sputtered, and cut himself off to breathe before he dared speak again. “Potter initially approached me when we began to see one another, not the other way round. Secondly, beyond a few kisses, I never did anything with him—I didn't want to overexcite either one of us, and doing so would only lead to frustration, nothing more. In regards to these so-called marriage proposals, he was using it as another attempt to have sex with me, not from some heartfelt gesture of his feelings. The only times he ever proposed was when he would become extra pushy with wanting sex, I would protest, and he would say something to the effect of, I'll marry you right now, I don't care.”

Another low murmur ran through the Wizengamot, but Draco's entire focus was on the defence solicitor. He glanced back at his client, then back at Draco.

“No further questions.”

Not too long after his third-degree from the solicitor, Draco was allowed to step down from the ominous-looking chair. He sat on the opposite side of the courtroom from Harry, and the two solicitors began to call witnesses. Draco strove to keep his eyes focused on the court proceedings, but he could feel Harry's eyes boring into him from across the room, and it made his skin crawl.

Witness after witness stepped up to the chair and gave their testimony. All of them offered similar stories, which did nothing but heighten Draco's unease. It was becoming more and more clear that Draco had not been involved with a man—he'd been seeing a monster.

Granger spoke of how Harry would constantly complain about what a tease he was, and how he asked her for tips on how to get him into bed.

All the Weasleys bore similar stories, and Ginevra reluctantly told the court of how Harry would demand strange sex acts from her, though she refused to go into detail as to what these acts pertained to.

The former sex partners shared similar stories—Harry was apparently terribly cold with them after they'd had sex, and would drop them with no remorse. Draco felt his insides squirm uncomfortably at that, and when he glanced over at Harry, he saw him smirking.

The last people to testify were his own parents, but their testimonies were centred around the threatening letter they'd received following his disappearance, and how they'd thought an extremist group had kidnapped their son—that is, until they'd heard Harry call him his pretty blond.

Draco shivered.

“Thank you all for taking the time today to testify on this matter,” the Chief Warlock said as he addressed Draco and all the other witnesses who had spoken that day. “I am certain that both the Defence and Prosecution appreciate your frank approach to this matter, and we will not leave you to wait any longer...”

The Chief Warlock paused, and his gaze fell to Harry, who was bound in the chair before them all. All the former witnesses had been called back into the room to hear the verdict, and Harry met the Chief Warlock's eyes with a deadened stare. He only managed to hold Harry's gaze for a few seconds before he looked away and refocused his attention on the assembled court.

“All those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?”

Draco held his breath.

Harry's dead, blank expression shifted to a dark scowl—Draco counted four hands that lifted into the air. His heart lifted.

“And all those in favour of conviction?”

Hands lifted into the air from every direction. Draco's eyes darted across the court to make sure that he wasn't seeing things, but it was true: every single member of the Wizengamot—save four—were willing to convict Harry. Draco drew in a sharp breath of relief as his gaze shifted back to the Chief Warlock, but his expression was unreadable.

“Very well,” he said, again his tone of voice blank and emotionless. “Harry James Potter, on the grounds of kidnapping, attempted rape, withholding a wand, unlawful captivity and the intent to murder, I sentence you to a life term in Azkaban Prison of forty years. You may not appeal this sentence.”

His gavel sounded terribly loud in the dead silence of the courtroom.

Draco felt as though all of the bones in his body had melted, and he fell into his mother's embrace as he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods,” Narcissa whispered, “you're safe, Draco, he's going away for a very long time.”

Draco glanced up long enough to see Harry being led out of the courtroom by the same two Aurors as earlier. He turned his gaze to Draco, and his glasses glimmered in the low light cast by the torches. The irises behind the frames flared red for the briefest of seconds, but an instant later it was gone, and Harry's eyes returned to their usual green.

Draco blinked hard, and watched as Harry was led the rest of the way out of the courtroom. Had he been seeing things?

Draco shook his head, and his mother regarded him oddly.

“Draco? Are you all right?”

“Fine, Mother,” he replied at once while he regarded Harry's retreating back, “I'm—I'm fine.”

Lucius and Narcissa bracketed their son as they left their seats and made for the exit. Around him, he could hear the titters of Harry's ex-lovers as they left.

“So scary, can you believe it?”

“Oh, it could have been me! Thank goodness I know when to put out.”

“It could have been any of us! Thank the Gods that the Malfoys got him put away, maybe we should send them a fruit basket...”

“I dunno, I feel like we're all going to miss out, now...Potter, for all his faults, was amazing in bed...”

The three other men let out eerily synchronized moans of longing.

“Can we please go?” Draco hissed, and Narcissa immediately took to the task of steering Draco and her husband away from the group, and towards the exits.

~*~

“We should celebrate this,” Narcissa announced the moment they crossed into their parlour, while Draco and Lucius siphoned ash off their robes with their wands. “Draco, we could invite Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini, and we could have your favourite, lobster souff—”

“—as much as I appreciate the offer, Mother,” Draco interrupted quickly, “all of this has been terribly exhausting. I would much rather go and sleep, and forget that this ever happened.”

And forget that I ever heard the name, Harry Potter, Draco thought miserably.

“Son, you haven't eaten all day,” Narcissa protested gently, “certainly you would want something small before—”

“—let him go, Narcissa,” Lucius cut in smoothly, “it has been a trying day for all of us, none moreso than Draco. Let him rest. He knows where the kitchens are if he gets hungry.”

Draco nodded his thanks to his father, paused long enough to embrace his mother, then slipped off to the front hall and hurried up the stairs.

It was not yet late afternoon, but Draco felt as though he had been up all night. Without even bothering to shed his clothes, he climbed into bed, and was asleep almost instantly.

When Draco next woke, his windows were black, and there was a soft tapping of a beak sounding from one of the panes.

With a groan he got up and shuffled over to the window. He rubbed his eyes in an effort to wake himself up, but it didn't seem to be doing much good. After everything, he felt as though he'd need to sleep for a hundred years before he felt anything like his former self again.

Once he'd made it to the window, Draco found a small tawny owl perched on the sill, an oversized violet double sash crossing its little breast, and the Ministry of Magic symbol was affixed to the centre. Draco opened the window, and the owl held out its leg to him; tied there was a tightly wound scroll of parchment, sealed with wax.

Draco accepted the scroll, thanked the owl with a treat, and immediately it flew off into the night. He shifted his attention to the scroll, and leant against the frame of the open window to see what this was about. He broke the seal, and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he read the two simple sentences scrawled neatly across the centre of the parchment.

An Azkaban inmate is trying to contact you.
Do you wish to accept this letter?
Y/N

It did not take a genius to work out who would be trying to contact him, and despite his burning desire to simply discard the letter without seeing what Harry had to say, his curiosity won out. Draco moved away from the window to grab the quill from the ink pot on his writing desk, and he nervously circled the Y.

In an instant, a short letter in an elegant, flowing script that was not Harry's handwriting filled the scroll.

Draco read it over once.

His skin drained of colour, turning the same shade as ash.

Draco dropped the letter to the floor, and just barely made it to the toilet before he began to dry heave.

The letter curled into ash and the evidence of its existence disappeared, but the words would forever be seared into Draco's mind like a white-hot brand.

Draco,

You lose.

I would have made it so good for you, but you chose ridiculous custom over what we could have had. You'll never have it as good as me, not again.

You'll have plenty of time to reflect on what you've lost by your choice to betray me, and in turn, I'll have plenty of time to watch my revenge unfold—you'll never be happy, and you'll never find love, not without me.

I do have to wonder, though...do you think they'll notice?

You didn't, but do you think they will? Are Azkaban guards more observant than pretty blond boys?

In ten, twenty, and thirty years when I am still here, the years will pass, and none of it will show on my face.

Horcruxes don't age, after all.

Dumbledore always said that after Voldemort and Harry Potter faced each other on that fateful day, there now was only one soul occupying this body.

Too bad he never realized which one.

-Fin
A/N: Thank you guys for reading! For my first mystery, I don't think I did too badly, but I'm pretty sure I'm no Agatha Christie, heh. Please let me know what you guys think, I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope you guys enjoyed the ride. I'm not entirely sure if enjoyed is the right term for this sort of fic, but I think you guys get what I mean.

Until next time!
xox
James
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The Devil You Know