At the end of the hall stood a set of double doors with the words Records and Registration emblazoned in gold across the fronts. Harry went to reach for the handle when they both noticed there wasn't any.
"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" he mumbled.
On the wall to the right of the door stood a large blue button. "Well . . . go on," Draco urged.
Harry jammed the button and stepped back. Green flames appeared in midair only inches from where they were standing and a male wizard with a bald head, large glasses and a long, pointy nose shot his head out from the flames.
"How can I help you?" His voice was high-pitched and squeaky.
"We need to have some records changed," Harry answered.
The man peered through his glasses at both men before disappearing. "Come on in." The flames evaporated and with a loud creak, the doors swung open.
The room was essentially a library. Shelves of file folders stood from ceiling to floor all around the edges of the room and in a row on each side down the center aisle. The windowless room would have been terribly dark if not for the bright blue balls of flame that hovered throughout.
"Come, come. No need to be shy."
They followed the voice down the center aisle to the back where three large tables sat in the only open space in the room. A short, squat man stood behind the center one, his wizard's cap tilted to the side over one ear. He closed the file before him and looked up.
"Philius Crenshaw at your service. What exactly is it that I can help you with?" He grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth.
"We need death records overturned."
"Name?"
"Draco Malfoy."
The wizard snapped his fingers and a loud rustling sound came from one of the shelves behind them. A thick file folder rushed toward them and both ducked to avoid being smacked with the speeding object. Philius caught it in his hand and carefully set it down on the table in front of him. He began flipping through the file, pulling out pictures and documents, statements and what Draco thought was his official death certificate. The blond leaned forward and snatched one of the pictures off the table.
He remembered that day clearly.
It was the summer before he had disappeared from Hogwarts. Mother had commissioned the annual family photo to be taken that week and while neither Draco nor Lucius were all that enthused, they complied. Each of his parents placed a hand on his shoulder and just as the photographer was ready to snap the picture, Draco blurted out the one thing that had been running through his mind all summer.
"I don't want to be a Death Eater."
Click.
Lucius' grip on his shoulder became unbearably tight. He heard his mother gasp and then her hand disappeared from its spot on his other shoulder.
Click.
"This shoot is over."
His father's tone left no room for argument. Draco watched numbly as the photographer packed up his things and disapparated. Lucius was pacing back and forth, muttering profusely under his breath. He turned to his mother for some sign of encouragement, but she refused to look at him, focusing instead on the line of trees on the horizon. Not knowing what to do, he turned back to the elder Malfoy.
"Father . . ."
The line of Lucius' body went rigid. He turned stiffly to his son and with an air of finality spoke the words Draco so dreaded.
"You have no choice, Draco. This is your path. It always has been and you will not back down now, do you understand? There is no way out, only death."
Only death. Draco nodded his understanding. There was no choice. There never had been.
"Please don't touch that." Philius snatched the picture out of Draco's hands and placed it back on the table. "Now," he started, reading off one of the documents. "Draco Malfoy . . . son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy . . . deceased- "
"He's alive."
Philius slowly put down the papers and turned to Harry. "And why do you say that?"
"Because he's standing right over there."
Two heads swivelled to look at Draco. Philius picked up the previous photo and studied it. He then grabbed Draco by the chin and pulled him close. With a large thumb, he traced the curve of his jaw, the line of his nose, the indent of his cheeks. Draco tried hard not to fidget under the intense scrutiny.
"Well, you certainly bear quite a resemblance to him. If you are indeed Mr. Malfoy-"
"- which I am," Draco cut in.
"- you will need to be tested . . . DNA and such." He walked over to the large fireplace set into the wall behind the tables and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. "Jonathan, you there?" he yelled.
"Aye, what is it, Philius?"
"I'm gonna be sending up a DNA sample in a few. I'll need you to match it for me."
"No problem."
The flames died down and Philius turned back to Harry and Draco.
"You'll need to fill this out." He waved his hand and a stack of papers three inches thick appeared in front of Draco. "Whoops, wrong papers." With another wave of his hand, the stack disappeared and a single sheet of paper appeared in its place. "That's the one. You'll need to fill this out before I can do anything. As soon as your identity is confirmed, someone from the Ministry will contact you to schedule a hearing."
"A hearing?"
"The circumstances surrounding your death, Mr. Malfoy, and the death of your parents are very suspicious. There will of course be a formal investigation into the fire that destroyed Malfoy Manor-"
"Fire?"
There was nothing Draco could say. His parents were dead. His childhood home, destroyed. If this was what coming back to the wizarding world would be like, he didn't know if he wanted to come back at all. It was better to be ignorant of it all, to think his parents were sitting in father's study in front of the fire sipping their afternoon tea, happy and alive than to know they were six feet underground.
"Just give us a moment, will you?" Harry waited until Philius was out of earshot. "Malfoy, I-"
"Just say it. Just get it over with and tell me."
He wanted, no, needed to know what had happened. Did Voldemort kill them? Because of his own actions? Was he the cause of his parents' deaths?
Harry took a deep breath.
"It was about a week after you had disappeared from Hogwarts. They had questioned your parents as to your whereabouts, but no one knew where you were. The official story was that you had been kidnaped. After all, your parents were well known. It was an entirely plausible story.
"At school, though, it was different. Rumors were flying around saying you had refused the mark and had gone into hiding. No one knew what to believe. Then at breakfast one morning, Dumbledore called for silence in the Great Hall. I knew something was wrong. Most of Slytherin just sat and stared at their plates.
"'There was a fire at Malfoy Manor overnight,' he started. Your father had died in the fire and your mother was in St. Mungo's with severe burns. And then he said the thing that shocked us all." Harry stopped for a minute and ran a hand through his hair. Draco could see the pain in his face. "Your body had been found next to your father's. I think no one moved. Despite what everyone thought about you, Malfoy, you were still one of us and it was horrible.
"They tried to question your mother but . . . she died a day later. Nobody knew why or how it happened. Some thought it was Voldemort but because of your father's connection to him, they ruled it out. To this day, they still don't know what happened."
"Before . . . that night we met in the church . . . you said something about a funeral?" If Potter was going to tell him all this, he figured he might as well get the full story now.
"They held your funeral at Hogwarts three days after we were told. All of Slytherin house was there and a few students from the other houses. Hermione went with me. It was nice. Well, as nice as a funeral can be. Dumbledore presided over most of it and Snape . . . he gave this amazing eulogy. He really cared about you, you know? I don't think I've ever seen him so vulnerable before. I developed a new respect for him after that."
"Is he still alive?"
"Yeah, he's still at Hogwarts teaching Potions. Dumbledore offered him the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after the war but he refused. And you know how much he used to want it."
Draco nodded. Of course he knew. Everyone knew. To think he passed it up . . .
"And Dumbledore?"
"He retired. Last I heard, he was in Spain. McGonagall took over after he left."
"You've been back?"
"Not since the war. Hermione's been keeping me updated. She goes back there all the time. She actually taught Defense for a year."
"They still can't find a permanent teacher?"
"They've found one-Neville Longbottom."
"Longbottom's teaching Defense?"
"He's a great teacher. Snape was the one who recommended him for the job, believe it or not."
Snape recommending Longbottom? Did the whole of the wizarding world go completely off its rocker after the war? It seemed like it. Draco vaguely wondered why it didn't surprise him in the least.
"So I guess I should fill out that form now," he said when neither of them could think of anything else.
"Yeah." Harry turned around to call Philius and found him already on his way back. Both men had the sneaking suspicion that he had been listening in the whole time.
"Quill?" He said as he slid the orange feather over to Draco. A small smile graced each of their lips as their suspicions were confirmed.
Draco dipped the quill into the small bottle of ink and began filling out the form. Harry helped him as best he could, offering up his address and phone number. When he was done, he handed the form back to Philius.
"Now, I'll just need a DNA sample."
Philius uncorked two large glass vials. Cotton swabs came shooting out of each of them toward Draco, who quickly clamped his mouth shut. They hovered in the air before his lips, patiently waiting for him to open up, but he kept them adamantly shut.
"It's okay. It won't hurt you."
Draco eyed Philius for a moment, then tentatively opened his mouth. The cotton swabs glided smoothly against the inside of his cheeks. When they were done taking the samples, they returned themselves to the glass vials and Philius sealed them. He threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and called for Jonathan again.
"Just send it over." Philius dropped the vial in and a second later Jonathan's voice sounded again before the flames died down a second time. "Got it." He turned back to them.
"Well, you two are free to go. The Ministry will give you a call in the next day or so, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco nodded and the three men bid each other good day. As they made their way back onto the lift, Draco's thoughts went back to his parents. It was all too much to fully comprehend. How could this happen? How could any of this have happened?
"Draco? Hey, are you okay? You look like you're gonna to be sick."
They were walking past the security desk when Harry said the words and placed a hand on Draco's back. Justin glared at the two of them and Draco, tired of all of it muttered "prick" under his breath as they walked by.
"Can we just go back to the apartment?" he said as they exited the Ministry. "I think I just want to lie down."
"I'm sorry, you know. I really am. I know that Lucius and I didn't exactly get along-"
"Isn't that the understatement of the year," Draco said icily.
"But he's still your father and I know what it's like, not having parents and all."
Draco said nothing, only watched as Harry hailed a cab to take them back home.
~*~
Draco lay flat on his back staring at the blinding white of the ceiling. He wondered if that was what the light at the end of the tunnel looked like when people died and went to heaven. Not that he would ever find out. He knew he was going straight to hell.
The muffled sounds of the shower running down the hall and Potter humming some tune came drifting toward him. He closed his eyes and focused on the colors dancing beneath his eyelids, trying to tune it all out.
I'm proud of you, Draco.
His father's voice came unbidden to him. The last words he ever heard him say, would ever hear him say. And it was his fault. It was always his fault.
"Hey."
Draco slowly opened his eyes and sat up to find Harry standing in the doorway, towel around his waist, barefoot and hair dripping. He watched a particularly fat droplet of water fall from one of the strands, roll across his collarbone and down the scar across his chest.
"How did you get that scar?"
His voice sounded choked, gravelly, as if he hadn't spoken in years. Harry came and sat next to him on the bed. He could see the muscles in his chest twitching. He sighed and turned to look directly at Draco.
"Do you really want to know?"
There was such intensity in his eyes that Draco knew that this was it. No more skirting around the issue, no more cryptic phrases and subject changes. Harry was ready to tell him the truth.
"Yes."
Harry stared into Draco's eyes a moment longer and then looked away. It seemed as if a shadow passed over his face and that haunted look was back.
"Seventh year was very stressful. Not only did we have N.E.W.T.s and careers to think about, there was also Voldemort, or rather, killing Voldemort. I thought I could handle it all. I really did. And then something happened . . . someone died."
There was something in Harry's voice, something that told him Potter was talking about him.
"I couldn't handle it and one day I just broke down. I locked myself up in the boy's dorm for two days using the strongest and most obscure locking spell I could find. No one could get in, not even Hermione, though I'm sure Dumbledore could have taken it down in a second. But he didn't. I guess he knew I needed the time.
"Anyway, at the end of that second day, Hermione sat outside the door and begged for me to let her in. She must have been there for hours, just pleading with me to come out. And then she burst into tears and . . . I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to let her in. I had to." He buried his face in his hands. "I had made my best friend cry, you know? How could I do that? I felt so horrible. So I opened the door and the first thing she did was give me a hug. That's all it took. I spilled everything to her, told her I was afraid, that I couldn't kill Voldemort. I didn't want to die. And you know what she did? She held me.
"I had never had anyone do that for me, not even after Sirius died. And it felt so good. I looked up at her and I just wanted it all to go away, all the pain, everything. So I kissed her. I don't know why, but I thought it would make me forget.
"The rest of the house was in class. So when she came in, neither one of us ever worried about re-locking the door. Stupid really. Ron was downstairs and I guess when he didn't hear Hermione anymore, he came up.
"All of a sudden, I hear this strangled sort of noise. We both pulled back to find him staring at us, this look of complete and utter disappointment on his face. It was strange. He wasn't even angry and you know how his temper was."
Draco did remember it all too clearly. Weasley had the tendency to go off at the drop of a dime.
"None of us knew what to say or do so we just stared at each other. Hermione was the first to regain her senses. 'Ron,' she said, and that was about as far as she got before he bolted out of the room. We didn't see him the rest of the day and he wasn't in his bed that night. It wasn't until Potions class two days later that I saw him again, but he was sitting on the Slytherin side of the classroom where you had always sat. Of course this didn't go over with Pansy too well. She went off on him, started screaming and all. It would have been amusing if we weren't so worried. He just sat there and took it and when she was done, all he said was 'Good morning.'
"Her mouth, and I think everyone else's including Snape's, dropped open. She sat down next to him and ignored him, she was so in shock. For the next two weeks it was the same thing and then one day she said hi back. It was strange watching that. Next thing you know, they were everywhere together. Ron even sat at the Slytherin table during mealtimes. They had to move him out of the Gryffindor dorms and into private ones because of the hostility he had created in the house.
"Then one night, I was half-asleep and out of nowhere this invisible hand clamps down over my mouth. With all that had been going on, I hadn't noticed my invisibility cloak had gone missing. I tried to scream but someone muttered a silencing spell and I couldn't say anything. When I tried to move, I realized there were ropes all across my body binding me to the bed. All of a sudden, Ron's leaning over me with this huge knife, grinning. I was so scared. He tied a gag over my mouth and then brought the knife up to my neck.
"He opened his mouth to talk, but something stopped him. For a second, I thought he would change his mind. He would have already had his revenge and untie me and we'd be friends again. I was so naive. As fast as that moment came, it had gone and instead of untying me, he was digging the knife into my throat. I could feel it breaking the flesh and muscle, could feel the blood oozing out of me."
As he said the words, Harry's hand traced over the scar.
"I watched Ron take my wand off the night stand and snap it in half. Then he carefully draped the invisibility cloak over me and left. I thought I was dying, that no one would find me until morning and I'd be dead. But Neville had gone to the bathroom or something and when he came back, he just happened to glance at my bed. I had managed to knock part of the cloak off my feet and he saw it. I remember seeing his eyes go wide and him rushing toward me right before I passed out."
"Did you ever see Weasley again?"
"On the battlefield. Hermione had killed Pansy. There was this manic look on her face; she was smiling. It was scary to see her like that. And then Ron came out of nowhere and raised his wand. He was so angry. I think by that time he had really begun to care for Pansy, you know? I knew he would have killed Hermione if he had the chance, but he didn't. I killed him first."
An eerie silence hung over the room. Draco watched Harry out of the corner of his eye. He looked exhausted.
"I had to."
That haunted look resurfaced, stronger this time. But now, Draco understood. Sometimes there was no choice, just the one that meant hurting someone. After that came the hollowness, the wanting to shut it out so badly, to fill that empty void with anything and everything you possibly could. That familiar longing called out to him from emerald eyes.
And before he knew it, he was moving forward, inching closer and closer to someone who shared his pain. The kiss was soft, almost too soft that if he hadn't had his eyes open and seen the surprise in Harry's, he would have thought it was just a dream. It was only a delicate brushing of lips, but when he pulled away, Harry didn't move, just sat there staring at him.
"I didn't mean to . . ."
Draco jumped up from the bed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Christ, what was he doing? This was Potter of all people. He had just told him he had killed his best friend. And what did he do? Kiss him. Draco headed toward the door, wanting desperately to get away from there, to disappear for a couple of hours and come back and forget any of it had happened. He didn't even look at Harry as he left, walking as quickly as he could to the living room. Just as he was opening the door, it slammed shut with a loud bang. He stared at the tanned muscular arm pressed against the door beside him.
"Don't," Harry whispered against his nape, breath tickling the blond hair. "Don't leave, Draco."
Harry's lips were hot on the back of his neck. A hand slipped around his waist and he could feel Harry's chest pressing against him. It felt so good. There were just lips and hands and skin and nothing else. No outside world, no hearings, no dead parents. Just Harry touching him here and kissing him there. All he wanted was to feel more.
Draco turned around, back against the door and ripped off the towel around Potter's waist. Harry stopped and watched Draco's movement. When he looked back up, the lust was more than evident in his eyes. He slammed the blond back against the door and began attacking him with his mouth. This was how Draco wanted it: hard, rough and so intense that he wouldn't even remember his own name by the end of it.
"Fuck me, Potter. Fuck me hard." He knew he would hate himself in the morning for the words, for the pleading note in his voice, but it didn't matter now. "Please, Harry. Make me forget."
Harry smirked as he ripped open Draco's shirt, tongue leaving wet trails down Draco's torso as he made his way past the blond's navel. Within seconds, pants and boxers were around ankles. Then Harry's hands were on him and then his mouth and Draco shamelessly let out a moan. He didn't want it to stop, ever. But even as he thought it, he came, shuddering, moaning Harry's name like a heathen in the night.
~*~
Draco didn't want to wake up, but the sun was shining directly on him. He rolled over, back to the window and slowly opened his eyes. He knew right away that he wasn't in his room and suddenly all the previous night's events came rushing back to him. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow, wanting it instead to be some perverted dream. A crackling noise under his arm startled him and he sat up again. A note lay on Harry's pillow, it's untidy scrawl glaring up at him.
Went shopping. Back around noon.
Draco crumpled the paper up and hurled it across the room. The clock on the bedside table read 12:15. Harry would be home any minute now.
Not seeing any of his clothes, Draco slid out from beneath the covers and left the room. He spotted his clothes draped over the back of the couch as he passed the living room and stopped to get them, thinking that if he left them there, they would only serve as a reminder of what had transpired the night before. It was bad enough without his ripped clothes staring the two of them in the face. He took them back to his room, grabbed some fresh clothes and headed to the shower.
Draco let the water soak into him, the heat scalding his skin. What have I done? he thought bitterly. If Harry ever found out . . . He didn't want to think of that right now. And his parents . . . he would never watch mother straighten father's tie, the way he looked at her when he thought no one was looking, the way she'd smooth down his robes . . .
Unwittingly, the tears came, slow at first, then in a rushing torrent down his cheeks. Draco slid down the wall to the tile floor. If he hadn't of left that night, hadn't refused . . . He began to sob, great big heaving sobs that burned his lungs and made his chest ache. It was all his fault. He had killed them. He had killed all of them. The sobs became gasps for air but he didn't care. Let me suffocate, he thought. It's a better death than I deserve.
"Draco?" Harry knocked on the door. "Draco, are you all right?"
When he didn't receive an answer, the bathroom door was thrown open. Harry ran over to the shower the second he spotted him.
"Shit. Malfoy, are you okay?" He shut the water off but Draco was still gasping. "You need to calm down."
"It's all . . . my . . . fault," he choked out, tears still streaming down his face.
"What's your fault?" Harry grabbed a towel off the rack and began to wrap it around the smaller man.
"They died . . . because . . . of me. I killed them." He began sobbing again.
"Can you walk?" Draco nodded. Harry placed an arm around his waist, lifted him off the floor and led him back to the guest room.
Using the towel he had wrapped around Draco, he carefully dried the man off then helped him into a pair of pajamas. Once he was in bed with the covers up around him, Harry sat down next to him. The sobbing had stopped but the tears still slid silently down his cheeks.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked softly.
He didn't want to talk about it. Not now and maybe not ever.
"Draco?"
"I just want to be alone."
"If you need anything . . . "
The only thing he needed right now was his parents and no one could give him that.
"Just leave me alone."
He could see Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye. When the other man realized there would be no more from him, he got up and left. Draco rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, wishing it could all just be some bad dream.
~*~
It was two days later when Draco finally mustered enough energy to get out of bed. The apartment was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the bedside table. He made his way slowly down the hall, stifling a yawn. As he passed the glass doors leading out to the balcony, he caught his reflection and grimaced. His hair stuck out at odd angles. When he ran a hand through it, he could feel the unwashed greasiness. One sniff of his shirt told him there was nothing he needed more right now than a shower. He was halfway to the bathroom when a high-pitched voice called out.
"I'm looking for a Mr. Draco Malfoy?"
Draco spun around and saw the blond curly head of a young witch staring out from the fireplace.
"Oh, hello there," she said when she had spotted him. "Are you Mr. Malfoy?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but two days of silence left him unable to emit nothing but a squeak. He cleared his throat.
"Um . . . yes, I'm-I'm Draco Malfoy."
"Melanie Watts, Office of the Minister of Magic. I am to inform you that there has been a hearing scheduled for you tomorrow at 9am in courtroom six. You are asked to bring your wand with you and check it at the security desk-"
"I don't have a wand."
"Oh, well please come prepared and on time. Have a pleasant day." And with that she was gone.
Draco plopped down on the couch. Tomorrow morning? He could feel the anxiety creeping up on him already. He wasn't ready to talk about it; he didn't know if he ever would be.
Mentally and physically exhausted, he slumped off to the shower. When every inch of the grime had been scrubbed away and his hair washed three times, he dressed and headed to the kitchen for some lunch.
"Glad to see you're up, Malfoy," Harry greeted from the balcony. He leaned back against the railing and took a long drag from his cigarette. "Feeling better?"
"The Ministry called. The hearing is tomorrow morning at nine," he said brusquely, trying to change the subject. He didn't even want to think about the other night. To have acted that way in front of Potter . . . it was embarrassing.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry chucked the cigarette over the railing and walked back inside, closing the glass door behind him. "I don't mind at all."
Draco thought for a moment. Did he really want Potter to come? He nodded. It would be nice to have some moral support for a while before the damn burst and the real truth came flooding out. Because when that happened, he doubted even Harry would be there to save him.
~*~
"I don't know if I can do this," Draco mumbled the next morning as he leaned against the wall across from the door leading into courtroom six.
Eyes downcast, he watched Harry's shoes coming toward him until they stopped just in front of his own. One look up and he felt a rush of guilt. If Harry knew what he had done, what a horrible person he was, he wouldn't be standing there looking at him like he was deserving of such sympathy.
"The Draco Malfoy I know would never say that."
The blond looked off to the side. "That Draco Malfoy doesn't exist anymore." Thank God, he thought. That Draco was a monster, a murderer.
"It'll be fine." Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against Draco's. "I'll be right here."
Potter kissed him again, so passionately this time, Draco was almost sure his knees would give way. He slipped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close. As soon as their lips parted, he buried his face in Harry's neck, breathing in the scent. One last chance, he thought sadly, before all hell breaks loose.
The ding of the lift sounded, followed by the scrape of the grate. Draco pushed Harry back and felt a another pang of guilt at the look of hurt that passed quickly over the other man's face.
A woman came striding toward them, her black heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. A monocle swung from a pocket on the front of her robes. She tucked it in and then extended a large hand to Harry and smiled.
"Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to the Ministry? Business?" The two shook hands firmly.
"No business this time, Amelia. I'm just here supporting a friend."
It was then she turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I presume?"
"Yes."
"I forgot you two had been at school together." She eyed him for a moment. "Give is a few minutes. I'll send someone out to let you know we're ready for you." Draco nodded and she turned back to Harry. "I hope to see you again, Harry. It's always a pleasure."
She patted Harry's shoulder and smiled kindly at Draco before slipping through the door.
"Don't worry." Harry must have seen the nervousness in his face because he was once again right in front of him. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Amelia Bones is a fair Minister, unlike Fudge." Harry grimaced, the bitterness etched plainly across his face. "You'll be fine."
Before Draco could say anything in response, a young wizard poked his head out the door.
"Mr. Malfoy, the council is ready for you."
Draco took one last deep breath and moved to the door. "Thank you," he mouthed to Harry before stepping into the courtroom, heart beating frantically against his chest.