Minister Bones sat in the center of the first row, monocle in place. The rest of the Wizengamot sat on either side of and behind her. Draco didn't recognize anyone else and the rest were hidden in the shadows behind her.
"If you would please take a seat."
Bones indicated the large chair in the center of the room and Draco felt his stomach churn. Chains attached to the arms glistened ominously in the torchlight. He sat down and watched the chains shudder for a moment before settling down. Letting out a shaky breath, he turned his eyes to the court.
The Minister began with the formalities: date, reason for the hearing, interrogators, as the court scribe took notes. When she was done, she waved a hand in the air and a small door on the right side of the courtroom opened. Draco watched as a man entered and stopped a few feet away from him.
"Please state your name and office for the court."
"Philius Alan Crenshaw, Office of Records and Registration."
"Mr. Crenshaw, you administered a DNA test to the defendant, correct?"
"Yes," Philius answered.
"Could you tell the court the results of that test?"
"Yes. The DNA samples taken from his cheeks matched up with Draco Malfoy's DNA. He is Draco Malfoy."
Draco felt a slight chill creep up his spine at Philius' words. It was real. All the years of hoping, of dreaming what it would be like to come back to the wizarding world and it was finally here. He didn't know if he should be happy or worried that it happened the way it had.
"Thank you, Mr. Crenshaw," Minister Bones said from her seat in the stands. "You may go."
Philius nodded first at the Minister and then to Draco before leaving through the door he came in.
"Now that that is out of the way, let us address the other issue at hand." There was a shuffling of parchment from those seated in the shadows behind her as she spoke.
"Mr. Malfoy, on the 17th of November 1998, you disappeared from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Where is it that you went that night?"
"I apparated to this forest on the edge of Surrey. From there, I hitched a ride into London."
"And why were you headed here to London, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I had received an owl that night from my father calling me to join the Death Eaters. I knew if I refused, I'd be killed. So I chose to run instead."
"Why didn't you want to follow in your father's footsteps?"
"And follow Voldemort?" Draco saw some of the Wizengamot flinch at the name. "He was a madman. He didn't want to maintain the purity of our lines but to destroy Harry Potter. It was a fool's goal and I didn't want any part of it," Draco answered defensively. The thought of ever joining him . . . it made him sick. There was tense silence as the court absorbed his words.
"If you did not join the Dark Lord and came here to London, what is it that you have been doing these past ten years?"
He told them the same story he had told Harry: how he ended up on the streets, how he lived and how he had run into Potter and been given a place to crash.
The Wizengamot listened attentively as Draco spoke. When he was done, Minster Bones spoke again.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. If you would please step outside for a moment while the Wizengamot deliberates."
Draco stepped out into the hall and Harry sprang up from his spot on the floor.
"So?"
"They're deciding my fate as we speak," Draco answered half-heartedly, taking the same position against the wall as Harry.
"Oh." It was a bland sort of "oh," neither filled with hope nor despair.
They stood in silence as they waited and when the door opened again to let him in, neither of them said anything, though Draco could feel Harry's eyes following him. The Wizengamot sat stony-faced above him, giving him no sign of their decision. He once again sat down in the massive chair and unlike last time, the chains remained still.
"Mr. Malfoy," the Minster began, "your request to have your death certificate overturned has been granted. Tests have proven that you are indeed Draco Malfoy so there is no need to delay that process any longer. However, because of the mysterious nature of your disappearance and the unsolved case of whose body has been rotting away in your grave for the past 10 years, you will not be permitted a wand. You will also not be allowed to leave the city under any circumstances. Is that clear?"
Draco nodded. He hadn't expected anything more or less.
"Your grave will be dug up in order for the Ministry to uncover what was thought to be your body. Afterwards, you will be called back to the Ministry for a second hearing, understood?"
"Yes, Minister."
"It is then we will give you the final decision on your fate. As for now, Mr. Malfoy, you are a free man. You may go."
"Thank you." Draco started to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Minister?"
Minister Bones considered him for a moment, then her face softened. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Would it be possible . . . I mean can I – can I be there . . . at the grave?"
Her countenance changed and the serious Minister was back. "If you find it necessary to come, please do." She looked him over one more time, gave a slight nod and then disappeared through the side door the rest of the council had gone through.
"Draco?" He turned to find Harry staring at him from just inside the doorway. "I saw some of the Wizengamot getting on the lifts and I figured . . . well . . . I assume it went well?"
"I'm free to go, if that's what you mean." He stared at him, instantly struck by the absurdity of it all. He was living with Potter. He was sleeping with Potter. And he still hadn't told him the truth. Well, at least not all of it.
"I read your journal." The words slipped from between his lips almost unconsciously.
"What?" Harry's face was a mask of confusion.
"Your journal . . . from Hogwarts. I found it. Actually, I found your trunk in the closet and . . . " he trailed off, watching Harry's face for any sign of what he was thinking. The other man just stared at him for a moment before turning his back and reaching for the door. "You aren't going to say anything?" Draco called out desperately. Anger, he could handle. Screaming, yelling, breaking things were more preferable to this. But not silence. He hated silence.
"What do you want me to say?" Harry's voice was tight, matching the line of his body. He didn't turn around, just stood facing the door.
"That you hate me. That you're angry. Something!" He was losing his patience. Little did he know that Harry was too.
"Do I hate you? No. But I'm pretty damn close to it right now." He slammed the door shut and rounded on Draco. "What gave you the right to go through my stuff? I let you into my home and you think that gives you the right to invade my privacy?" He advanced on Draco, fists clenched at his sides. "Did you enjoy it, Malfoy? Did you like reading every sordid detail? Did you enjoy every word about you?"
"No," Draco mumbled as he inched backward away from Harry.
"Really? I was sure you'd be dancing with excitement at the chance to use it all against me. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Isn't it?!"
"NO!"
The force of Draco's voice shocked them both and they each took a step back.
"Why did you do it?" That desperation was back in Harry's voice again.
"I needed to know what had happened, why everyone had changed." And he didn't. Instead, he had found out something he didn't even think it was possible. "Why didn't you tell me?"
At first, Harry looked confused, but then a quiet sort of sadness settled over his features.
"Would it have made a difference?"
Draco went to open his mouth and abruptly closed it. Would it have really made a difference? He knew it wouldn't have. The old Draco would have scoffed at Potter, done everything in his power to embarrass and humiliate him, used it to his advantage and Potter's own demise.
"No," he answered truthfully.
"And that's why I didn't tell you."Harry's gaze was intense, pupils so large only a thin band of green shone around the edges.
"I'm sorry."
Harry nodded his acceptance of the apology and turned back to the door. Draco followed quietly behind him, not knowing what to say or do. They proceeded to the lifts in the same manner. Once the silence had become too much, Draco spoke.
"They're going to dig up the grave." Harry turned to face him, but didn't say a word. The blond kept his eyes on the golden grille before him. "I told them I wanted to be there." He looked at Harry. "I have to be there. I need to be there." He turned back to the front of the lift and out of the corner of his eye, saw Harry do the same.
The tenseness of the day kept through to the night. Draco lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of his own breathing. Harry hadn't spoken to a word to him all through dinner or after. He deserved it of course; he couldn't deny that. But the thought that he had hurt Harry in any way made him feel even worse.
There was a soft knock on the door and before Draco could say anything, Harry had inched it open. Light from the hallway spilled over the bed and Draco threw a hand up to cover his eyes. Harry slipped through the opening and quickly shut the door behind him. Both men waited for their eyes to adjust to the light, silent and unmoving. Then Harry moved, crawling under the covers next to Draco.
The blond turned onto his side and felt Harry press his chest up against his back. A hand slid around his waist. Draco entwined his fingers with Harry's and smiled to himself. He waited until Harry's breathing slowed and his soft snores filled the air before falling asleep himself.
Thursday dawned with grey skies and drizzling rain. A phone call from the Minister's secretary the previous night informed Draco of their plans and kept him awake even as the sky lightened and the rain began to fall. Now, he stood between two graves, eyes bleary and body exhausted. Narcissa's lay on the left, Lucius' on the right, a small serpent carved into each, slithering its way around the edges of the large slabs of black marble. They moved in complete unison, as if even in death, his parents were still together.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
He turned to find Minister Bones staring at him. Her dark green robes fluttered in the breeze as a maroon umbrella hovered over her, protecting her from the rain. He pushed his own dripping locks out of his eyes and walked over to where she stood. Some of the members of the Wizengamot he had seen at the hearing stood around his grave talking in hushed whispers. Two other men Draco had never seen before stood nonchalantly by the grave, black hoods covering their faces. They held shovels in front of them and their stance made Draco shiver as he thought back to Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
"Shall we start?"
The Minster's voice cut through the air and into Draco's thoughts. It was then he took the first real look at his grave.
The same slab of black marble was at the head with only his name and the date of his birth and "death." No serpents, no fancy inscriptions, just a plain headstone.
The soft thud of shovel sinking into earth brought Draco's eyes back to the dried patch of grass in front of him. The hooded wizards dug into the earth three times before letting the shovels go. They commenced digging on their own as everyone stood back and watched.
It wasn't long before they finally heard the clunk of metal hitting metal. The shovels froze mid-dig, forcing the two wizards to jump down and resume digging manually. Once they had cleared away the majority of the dirt, Draco could see the grey casket clearly beneath their feet. The two men climbed out, extracted their wands and within seconds, the casket was levitating out of the grave. It hovered over the hole for a moment before it was placed down beside it. Draco followed the Minister over to the casket, heart pounding furiously.
This is just a dream. This is just a dream, Draco repeated mentally as he walked. But the pinch he gave himself on the arm displaced that theory. Instead, he found himself biting down on his lip to stifle a cry. It was real. It was all real and any moment now that casket would open and he would finally see the body of the person who had died in his place.
With a wave of her hand, Bones sent the lid flying open with a loud crack. Draco threw a hand up to cover his nose, the stench of death, unbearable. He had never smelled anything so foul, except for that one and only visit he had taken to Azkaban to visit his father right after fifth year. He shoved the memory to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on the scene before him.
The Wizengamot was huddled off to the side, giving Draco a clear view of the coffin. As soon as the dust cleared, he took his first steps forward, eyes looking straight ahead. Feet only inches from the coffin, he stopped and looked down, instantly regretting it.
The corpse was almost completely fleshless. Tattered threads of a black suit clung to it, making the body seem even more real.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
The Minster's voice barely registered in his mind. He couldn't look away no matter how hard he tried. Who are you? Draco asked silently. A large hand came down softly on his shoulder, but he ignored its owner. Who was this rotted corpse? Was it a wizard? A muggle? Someone he had known? There were too many unanswered questions, too many thoughts swirling round his mind.
"I have to go," he mumbled as he broke free from the morbid site before him. Vaguely, he heard the Minister calling his name as he walked away. He couldn't do this, couldn't go back there. He picked up his pace and before he knew it, he was running across the cemetery toward the street.
The apartment was quiet and empty when Draco returned. He collapsed on the couch with a feeling of defeat. He should have left it all alone, walked away from Harry the second he spotted him in that church. But you'd probably be dead, a voice inside him said.
"Good! I'd rather be dead!" he yelled out to the empty apartment. An innocent had died because of him. An innocent. He closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.
"So where exactly are we?" Draco glanced around the dingy alleyway, exotic smells invading his nostrils. Harry had insisted on taking him out when he returned home and as much as Draco had wanted to refuse, the other man wouldn't let him. "You really like popping up in grimy alleys, don't you?"
"Only with you."
Draco couldn't help but smile at the silliness of it all. Harry led them out of the alley and up the street to a small Chinese restaurant. They were seated almost instantly. Within ten minutes, plates of steaming hot food were sitting in front of them.
They dug heartily into their food, forgetting conversation for a while as they savored the rich cuisine before them. It was through a mouthful of pork fried rice that Draco brought up the subject of Crabbe and Lavendar.
"I wasn't around when it started," Harry said between bites of his eggroll, "but I've heard the story plenty of times to be able to tell it. Apparently, it all started in the infirmary after Vince had been injured.
"Lav worked in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey during the war. Quite good at it, too. When Vince came in that day, he was in pretty bad shape. One of the Death Eaters had nearly blown off his right leg. Knocked unconscious, he was. To tell you the truth, we all thought he was dead.
"Anyway, he had regained consciousness sometime during the night. Madam Pomfrey had gone down to the triage unit they had set up in the Great Hall. The patients in the infirmary were the ones who were really bad. So Lav was the only one around that night. She headed over to him and he whispered that he needed some water. Well, she gave it to him and then sat with him the rest of the night. He had to be kept awake, so she ran out to the library and brought back some books and read to him all night. She did that every night up until the war ended.
"After the war, Vince was stuck in a wheelchair. He had wanted to approach Lavendar and tell her how he felt, but he thought she wouldn't want him like that. So he said nothing. And then one day, she showed up on his doorstep, soaking wet, in the pouring rain and asked him to marry her."
Draco stopped chewing and stared at Harry.
"True, I tell you," he answered Draco's unspoken question. The blond swallowed his food.
"And she said yes? Just like that?"
"Yup. Got married two months later. Sweet little ceremony, too."
They lapsed into comfortable silence as they finished their meal. When they were done, Draco slipped outside as Harry paid the bill. Just as he stepped out the door and onto the pavement, he collided shoulder first with a large, bulky man. Draco looked up and froze.
Who are you? Get out of my house this instant! I say–what are you–no! Please, no! We'll give you anything you want. Anything.
"Watch it," the man grumbled and pushed past him. But just as Draco was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he heard the man speak again.
"Potter?"