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Title: The Most Impossible Fic in the Universe (And I Wet Myself, but I Did It in Your Chair): Confessions of a Slytherpuff
Author: hecticity
Pairings/Characters: Draco/Hannah, Harry, Griselda Marchbanks, Hermione
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst, character death, a REALLY ODD PAIRING that only works from Hannah's POV.
Disclaimer: I am not JKR, I am not making any money off of this.
Summary: Draco is on trial for murder. Hannah is a witness (and a motive).
Author's note: Written for el_em_en_oh_pee, on her birfday! Credit for the title goes to free_the_goats, because she is AWESOME. Also thanks to pinkelephant42 for the quick critique :D
He’s sitting three feet away, and if I reached out I could touch his shoulder, even through the bars. But he’s so distant, he’s not really there.
“Draco,” I say, trying to keep the tears that are running down my face out of my voice. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t even move. “Talk to me,” I say, and I’m begging, but I can’t help it.
His head moves, just a little, hanging down towards his chest, and his words are so muffled I have to strain my ears to hear them. “You didn’t have to do it.”
~ ~ ~
Griselda Marchbanks, presiding over the Wizengamot in the place of Amelia Bones, looked sternly at Draco where he sat slumped between two Azkaban guards.
“I expected more from you, Mr. Malfoy,” she told him sternly. “We all did.” Draco didn’t move, didn’t react. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
If it hadn’t been for the slow movement of his chest, Draco might not have even been alive. Griselda sighed and shuffled the papers in front of her importantly.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she began, “I sentence you to-”
“Ms. Marchbanks, if I may,” came a clear voice from the small audience- only the people relevant to the case had been allowed, for Draco’s protection. “I would like to speak for him.”
Draco’s head shot up, then, causing the guards to tighten their holds on his arms, and he looked straight at the speaker.
“Ms. Abbott,” Griselda said, not even bothering to hide her surprise, “I suppose there is no harm in you trying, but I doubt whatever you have to say will help his case.”
“That’s quite alright, ma’am,” Hannah told her politely, “But I need to say it, all the same.”
Draco slumped back into his chair.
~ ~ ~
I had never known darkness quite so utterly complete until I was in the bowels of Malfoy Manor. It was cold there, too, and it smelled like death.
I was almost blinded when the door opened. “What are you doing here?” the figure whispers, and I can’t tell from the silhouette who it is. “How could you get caught like this? Don’t you realize what a situation you’ve put me in?”
Then I know. “I’m sorry,” I whisper back, and I mean it.
He sighs. “You realize I ought to kill you.”
I know that, too. It would be best, for Harry, for the Order, for the war. But I don’t want to die. “Please don’t.”
He stares at me for a moment, then walks away, closing the door behind him.
~ ~ ~
Draco stumbled through the door of Grimmauld Place, grey-faced and utterly exhausted. Harry caught him as he collapsed in the hallway, half-carrying him as silently as he could past Mrs. Black’s portrait and into the kitchen, where he poured a cup of Remus’s favorite tea and shoved it onto the table in front of him.
“Tell me,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Draco.
“No,” Draco said tiredly, “You tell me. What does Abbott know?”
Harry stared at him. “Why does it matter? She’s out on a mission; it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“But it does, Potter,” Draco told him, pushing the tea away. “She’s not on a mission. She’s hanging from my dungeon wall.”
~ ~ ~
Pain infuses my entire being, clogs my ears so that I can’t even tell whether I’m screaming or not.
“This can all be over,” Lucius says, though I can barely comprehend what he’s saying. “All you have to do is talk.”
I must have been released from the Curse, but it’s hard to tell. My vision has come back, though, or maybe that’s because he’s moved closer, stroking my cheek.
I want to bite his hand, but I don’t have the energy. “No,” I whisper, and I hear a sharp intake of breath from someone standing behind Lucius.
“Very well,” Lucius says coldly, taking a step back. “Then we will answer the ultimate question…how many Cruciatus Curses does it take before the Hufflepuff breaks?”
~ ~ ~
Draco looked at the shattered pieces of his cup on the floor instead of at Harry. “Everything,” he repeated quietly. “She knows everything.”
“You know what you have to do, don’t you?” Harry’s voice was dangerously cold, but it didn’t even touch Draco, who was already frozen.
“Yes, Potter, I do,” Draco told him, looking up and over at him across the upturned table. “I have to make sure she doesn’t talk.”
Something in his voice made Harry shudder. “Don’t you dare,” he said angrily, striding forward. “If you take the easy way out of this, I’ll kill you.”
“She’s a liability!” Draco exclaimed. “How can you even think of saving her?”
“She would think of saving your sorry hide, were your positions reversed," Harry told him bitterly. "Even if you betrayed her."
Draco looked away, but not before Harry saw the guilt in his eyes.
~ ~ ~
When you think you’re going to die, you notice the oddest things. Like how the stones that make up the floor of the dungeon are purple at night, and grey during the day. Or how time never seems to move, anymore.
And Draco. The way he bites his lip when he talks to me, or the uneven rate of his breathing whenever his father’s around because he’s afraid I’m going to blow his cover.
It’ll be fine, I want to tell him. I won’t betray you. But then I wonder if I can really even trust myself to hold to that. I’m so weak now; I can’t even move my fingers.
“Abbott,” he asks, “Hannah. Are you alive?” I move my head, just barely, and I can feel the relief and fear coming off of him like tangible waves.
~ ~ ~
“Thank you, Ms. Abbott,” Griselda said when Hannah had finished her story. “Have a seat.”
Hannah sat, watching Draco. He met her eyes, once, saw the sympathy in her gaze, and nearly coughed up his empty stomach.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Griselda intoned, turning back to her notes. “Despite the new evidence, the Wizengamot finds you guilty of double homicide, even if it was in defense of an innocent.”
A gasp sounded from the audience, and then a muffled “WHAT?” as Hermione put a hand over Hannah’s mouth and dragged her back down into her seat.
“For the murders of Harry James Potter and Lucius Malfoy,” Griselda continued, “you will serve fifteen years in Azkaban.”
“But he saved my life,” Hannah exclaimed, breaking free of Hermione.
“Ms. Abbott, that is enough,” Griselda said, glaring at her. “Be grateful that he is not imprisoned for life, for which he has you to thank. Now sit down, before I have you thrown out.”
Hannah sat, and watched, wide-eyed, as the guards dragged Draco out of the room.
~ ~ ~
“Stay with me,” he whispers, touching my cheek, and it could be only because he wants to make sure I’m still alive, but I never knew Draco could be so compassionate. If we get out of this, if I can ever find the energy to talk again, I’ll thank him for it.
Suddenly my chains are gone. Draco probably intended to catch me, but just then the dungeon door opens, and I fall to the floor. I don’t even have the energy to lift my head, but I hear a surprised voice starting to say something and being cut off by the sounds of a scuffle and the sharp crack of something- probably bone- hitting the floor.
“Shit,” Draco breathes, “Oh, holy fuck, that’s…”
But he doesn’t finish his sentence, and suddenly his arms are around me, pulling me to my feet and draping me across his back. Jerkily we make our way to the door, and I find myself staring down at Harry, sprawled across the floor, surprise covering his face and blood pooling beneath his head. Then we’re out of the dungeon, and I tremble with the effort to keep my eyes closed so that I don’t go completely blind.
“Oh, god,” Draco whispers, and I’m being pressed between his back and a wall. I can feel the pain in his voice when he speaks again, whispers: “Avada Kedavra.”
And then everything goes black.
EPILOGUE
Eighteen years ago, Harry defeated Lord Voldemort, only to become entangled in the brutality of the Death Eater’s desperate attempts at revenge, led by Lucius Malfoy. Fifteen years ago, Draco killed his father and his last ally in an attempt to save my life.
Ever since, I’ve been plagued with guilt and something else, something I can’t even name. Guilt that he’s been serving time, because I was stupid enough to get caught. And that something…that unnamable emotion, something akin to pity, because I can still remember his breath of relief every time I made it through the pain without saying anything.
I still don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t actually been in the room at the time, a constant reminder of all that was at stake.
Now, I’m waiting at the gate that separates the condemned from the free, the only entrance into Azkaban. And I’m hoping, praying that Draco is still alive, that I will have a chance to make this up to him. The guards won’t (or can’t) tell me, they just smirk and confirm that if he is, he will be released today.
It’s almost three hours before I see any movement by the prisoner’s cells, but it feels like longer. And there he is, stepping out into the hallway with his head held high. I wonder if it’s possible that even Azkaban hasn’t managed to break his spirit, and it’s then that I know what that feeling is. I’ve fallen in love with him, with someone I barely even know.
I can feel his eyes on me as he walks toward the gate, and I move back so the guard can open it.
“Hi,” I say, almost shyly, and his eyebrow disappears under his hair, grown long with neglect.
The silence stretches between us, filled with everything that’s happened. Finally he sighs, and nods, and grudgingly follows me out into the courtyard.
I know, somehow, that my debt to him will never be repaid. But that won’t stop me from trying.
Author: hecticity
Pairings/Characters: Draco/Hannah, Harry, Griselda Marchbanks, Hermione
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst, character death, a REALLY ODD PAIRING that only works from Hannah's POV.
Disclaimer: I am not JKR, I am not making any money off of this.
Summary: Draco is on trial for murder. Hannah is a witness (and a motive).
Author's note: Written for el_em_en_oh_pee, on her birfday! Credit for the title goes to free_the_goats, because she is AWESOME. Also thanks to pinkelephant42 for the quick critique :D
He’s sitting three feet away, and if I reached out I could touch his shoulder, even through the bars. But he’s so distant, he’s not really there.
“Draco,” I say, trying to keep the tears that are running down my face out of my voice. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t even move. “Talk to me,” I say, and I’m begging, but I can’t help it.
His head moves, just a little, hanging down towards his chest, and his words are so muffled I have to strain my ears to hear them. “You didn’t have to do it.”
~ ~ ~
Griselda Marchbanks, presiding over the Wizengamot in the place of Amelia Bones, looked sternly at Draco where he sat slumped between two Azkaban guards.
“I expected more from you, Mr. Malfoy,” she told him sternly. “We all did.” Draco didn’t move, didn’t react. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
If it hadn’t been for the slow movement of his chest, Draco might not have even been alive. Griselda sighed and shuffled the papers in front of her importantly.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she began, “I sentence you to-”
“Ms. Marchbanks, if I may,” came a clear voice from the small audience- only the people relevant to the case had been allowed, for Draco’s protection. “I would like to speak for him.”
Draco’s head shot up, then, causing the guards to tighten their holds on his arms, and he looked straight at the speaker.
“Ms. Abbott,” Griselda said, not even bothering to hide her surprise, “I suppose there is no harm in you trying, but I doubt whatever you have to say will help his case.”
“That’s quite alright, ma’am,” Hannah told her politely, “But I need to say it, all the same.”
Draco slumped back into his chair.
~ ~ ~
I had never known darkness quite so utterly complete until I was in the bowels of Malfoy Manor. It was cold there, too, and it smelled like death.
I was almost blinded when the door opened. “What are you doing here?” the figure whispers, and I can’t tell from the silhouette who it is. “How could you get caught like this? Don’t you realize what a situation you’ve put me in?”
Then I know. “I’m sorry,” I whisper back, and I mean it.
He sighs. “You realize I ought to kill you.”
I know that, too. It would be best, for Harry, for the Order, for the war. But I don’t want to die. “Please don’t.”
He stares at me for a moment, then walks away, closing the door behind him.
~ ~ ~
Draco stumbled through the door of Grimmauld Place, grey-faced and utterly exhausted. Harry caught him as he collapsed in the hallway, half-carrying him as silently as he could past Mrs. Black’s portrait and into the kitchen, where he poured a cup of Remus’s favorite tea and shoved it onto the table in front of him.
“Tell me,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Draco.
“No,” Draco said tiredly, “You tell me. What does Abbott know?”
Harry stared at him. “Why does it matter? She’s out on a mission; it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“But it does, Potter,” Draco told him, pushing the tea away. “She’s not on a mission. She’s hanging from my dungeon wall.”
~ ~ ~
Pain infuses my entire being, clogs my ears so that I can’t even tell whether I’m screaming or not.
“This can all be over,” Lucius says, though I can barely comprehend what he’s saying. “All you have to do is talk.”
I must have been released from the Curse, but it’s hard to tell. My vision has come back, though, or maybe that’s because he’s moved closer, stroking my cheek.
I want to bite his hand, but I don’t have the energy. “No,” I whisper, and I hear a sharp intake of breath from someone standing behind Lucius.
“Very well,” Lucius says coldly, taking a step back. “Then we will answer the ultimate question…how many Cruciatus Curses does it take before the Hufflepuff breaks?”
~ ~ ~
Draco looked at the shattered pieces of his cup on the floor instead of at Harry. “Everything,” he repeated quietly. “She knows everything.”
“You know what you have to do, don’t you?” Harry’s voice was dangerously cold, but it didn’t even touch Draco, who was already frozen.
“Yes, Potter, I do,” Draco told him, looking up and over at him across the upturned table. “I have to make sure she doesn’t talk.”
Something in his voice made Harry shudder. “Don’t you dare,” he said angrily, striding forward. “If you take the easy way out of this, I’ll kill you.”
“She’s a liability!” Draco exclaimed. “How can you even think of saving her?”
“She would think of saving your sorry hide, were your positions reversed," Harry told him bitterly. "Even if you betrayed her."
Draco looked away, but not before Harry saw the guilt in his eyes.
~ ~ ~
When you think you’re going to die, you notice the oddest things. Like how the stones that make up the floor of the dungeon are purple at night, and grey during the day. Or how time never seems to move, anymore.
And Draco. The way he bites his lip when he talks to me, or the uneven rate of his breathing whenever his father’s around because he’s afraid I’m going to blow his cover.
It’ll be fine, I want to tell him. I won’t betray you. But then I wonder if I can really even trust myself to hold to that. I’m so weak now; I can’t even move my fingers.
“Abbott,” he asks, “Hannah. Are you alive?” I move my head, just barely, and I can feel the relief and fear coming off of him like tangible waves.
~ ~ ~
“Thank you, Ms. Abbott,” Griselda said when Hannah had finished her story. “Have a seat.”
Hannah sat, watching Draco. He met her eyes, once, saw the sympathy in her gaze, and nearly coughed up his empty stomach.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Griselda intoned, turning back to her notes. “Despite the new evidence, the Wizengamot finds you guilty of double homicide, even if it was in defense of an innocent.”
A gasp sounded from the audience, and then a muffled “WHAT?” as Hermione put a hand over Hannah’s mouth and dragged her back down into her seat.
“For the murders of Harry James Potter and Lucius Malfoy,” Griselda continued, “you will serve fifteen years in Azkaban.”
“But he saved my life,” Hannah exclaimed, breaking free of Hermione.
“Ms. Abbott, that is enough,” Griselda said, glaring at her. “Be grateful that he is not imprisoned for life, for which he has you to thank. Now sit down, before I have you thrown out.”
Hannah sat, and watched, wide-eyed, as the guards dragged Draco out of the room.
~ ~ ~
“Stay with me,” he whispers, touching my cheek, and it could be only because he wants to make sure I’m still alive, but I never knew Draco could be so compassionate. If we get out of this, if I can ever find the energy to talk again, I’ll thank him for it.
Suddenly my chains are gone. Draco probably intended to catch me, but just then the dungeon door opens, and I fall to the floor. I don’t even have the energy to lift my head, but I hear a surprised voice starting to say something and being cut off by the sounds of a scuffle and the sharp crack of something- probably bone- hitting the floor.
“Shit,” Draco breathes, “Oh, holy fuck, that’s…”
But he doesn’t finish his sentence, and suddenly his arms are around me, pulling me to my feet and draping me across his back. Jerkily we make our way to the door, and I find myself staring down at Harry, sprawled across the floor, surprise covering his face and blood pooling beneath his head. Then we’re out of the dungeon, and I tremble with the effort to keep my eyes closed so that I don’t go completely blind.
“Oh, god,” Draco whispers, and I’m being pressed between his back and a wall. I can feel the pain in his voice when he speaks again, whispers: “Avada Kedavra.”
And then everything goes black.
EPILOGUE
Eighteen years ago, Harry defeated Lord Voldemort, only to become entangled in the brutality of the Death Eater’s desperate attempts at revenge, led by Lucius Malfoy. Fifteen years ago, Draco killed his father and his last ally in an attempt to save my life.
Ever since, I’ve been plagued with guilt and something else, something I can’t even name. Guilt that he’s been serving time, because I was stupid enough to get caught. And that something…that unnamable emotion, something akin to pity, because I can still remember his breath of relief every time I made it through the pain without saying anything.
I still don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t actually been in the room at the time, a constant reminder of all that was at stake.
Now, I’m waiting at the gate that separates the condemned from the free, the only entrance into Azkaban. And I’m hoping, praying that Draco is still alive, that I will have a chance to make this up to him. The guards won’t (or can’t) tell me, they just smirk and confirm that if he is, he will be released today.
It’s almost three hours before I see any movement by the prisoner’s cells, but it feels like longer. And there he is, stepping out into the hallway with his head held high. I wonder if it’s possible that even Azkaban hasn’t managed to break his spirit, and it’s then that I know what that feeling is. I’ve fallen in love with him, with someone I barely even know.
I can feel his eyes on me as he walks toward the gate, and I move back so the guard can open it.
“Hi,” I say, almost shyly, and his eyebrow disappears under his hair, grown long with neglect.
The silence stretches between us, filled with everything that’s happened. Finally he sighs, and nods, and grudgingly follows me out into the courtyard.
I know, somehow, that my debt to him will never be repaid. But that won’t stop me from trying.