Fic...Issues, Chapter 6...Issues of Security...H/D
Title: Issues, Chapter 6...Issues of Security
Author: jamie2109
Rating: This Chapter PG-13 but will get to NC-17, eventually.
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: 4152
Summary: Post HBP, Post War. The war is won, Voldemort is dead and the Wizarding World must learn to live in peace. Harry has Draco in custody and wants some answers.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, although the situations are mine and the OC's are also mine.
A/N: Finally, I get this chapter finished. I actually like this one, a lot. Thanks to nocturnali and son_of_darkness for the beta work. I love you two to pieces. Any mistakes left are my own, as I usually make changes after they're done with it. D'oh.
Previous Chapters
Chapter 6.
“I know what Corpus Inflammare is.”
Harry’s finger gripped tighter into Malfoy’s shoulder when he heard those words and a frown of disbelief covered his face.
“What did you say?”
Malfoy sniffed and wiped his face, shaking the hair from his eyes as they once more captured Harry’s. “I said,” his voice was getting stronger now, “I know what Corpus Inflammare is. I know all about it, I helped discover it.”
Harry pulled back and tried to let go of Malfoy’s shoulder but Malfoy refused to let Harry’s hand go. Harry was in too much shock to pay it much attention, just stood there, processing what Malfoy had actually said.
Corpus Inflammare was the spell that Harry had used on Voldemort - or what was left of him - after they had destroyed all the Horcruxes. It was the spell that Snape had managed to sneak out to the Order, to Harry specifically. Harry had told no one except Hermione and Ron about the spell, how he had received it and from whom.
They, none of them, had even known what it was or how it worked. No matter how much Hermione had researched, how many books she had waded through, there was very little information on Horcruxes, let alone how to destroy someone once their Horcrux protection was gone. She had found nothing.
For almost a month they had tried to find out about the spell. They had tested it on inanimate objects expecting them to burn as Inflammare meant, ‘to burn’. Nothing. With Hermione gagging and wringing her hands and Harry’s wand hand shaking, they had even tested it on a mouse, thinking that perhaps the Corpus part of the spell indicated that it needed a body. Again, nothing. In the end they had decided that testing the spell on a person was too much and, if the time arose, they would just have to have faith that it worked.
And having that faith was not an easy task. The spell had come from a questionable source at best. How were they to believe that Snape was acting to their benefit? How could they have faith in a man that had killed their mentor?
The main reason was the attached note that came with the information.
Potter,
Dumbledore trusted me.
The note was in that same small cramped handwriting that he had seen in the potions book belonging to the Half Blood Prince. His initial reaction had been to scowl and disregard the spell, thinking, ‘Yeah, Dumbledore trusted you and you killed him!’ The more he had thought about it though, the more things just didn’t seem to fit. He knew Dumbledore was dying - he’d helped with that by forcing the poison down his throat. Also, Dumbledore would never beg for his life like that. No, something else had been going on and it was just another of the many questions he’d had about that night that no one seemed able to answer.
Malfoy’s voice bought him back from his thoughts. “Harry…?”
Harry blinked, turned towards the voice and realised he was still holding Malfoy’s hand and that he was being looked at in some concern. He extracted his hand from Malfoy’s and sat down, rubbing at his temple. “I think you’d better tell me what you know about that spell,” he said tiredly.
“I helped Snape find it,” Malfoy replied. When Harry looked up at him, he could see that Malfoy was more composed now and looking at him with a smug little smile.
“Why should I believe you, Malfoy?” Of course Harry was not going to just believe every word that came out of Malfoy’s mouth. He wanted to, which surprised him. Astounded him, actually. Why on earth did he want to believe Malfoy? If it were true and Malfoy did actually help find the spell that killed Voldemort for good, then that pretty much was his ticket out of Azkaban. In good conscience, Harry could not let him go there…if this were true.
Malfoy looked at him coolly, with a hint of irritation. “Did you ever find out what that spell does, exactly, Potter?”
“Well, obviously, Malfoy. It burned Voldemort.” Harry retorted. Malfoy waved at him impatiently.
“I assume you told the other two members of your little fan club, in which case I’m sure you had Granger test out the spell, do research, seeing as she is the brains of the Golden Trio,” he said crinkling his nose as if he’d said something unpleasant and, knowing Malfoy, he would be disgusted that he’d had to admit Hermione was clever. “What did she find? It didn’t work on anything else, did it?”
“No, it didn’t. Do you know why?”
Malfoy sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which was dirty and lank, though at this point, Harry saw that he hardly cared.
“Corpus Inflammare is a spell that was designed specifically to destroy, by fire, the body of a splintered soul. It was never going to work on anyone or anything else except Voldemort.”
Well, that would explain it, Harry thought, but it raised a lot of other questions. Nodding thoughtfully, Harry looked at Malfoy in a whole new light.
“Tell me,” he said, “Why were you helping Snape, then?”
“It’s along story, Harry, do you mind if I tell you tomorrow?” Malfoy was looking tired. Belly full of good food, but still weak and undernourished, the consequences of his recent beating were obviously telling on his body. Besides, he was still naked and Harry, whilst not uncomfortable with that, felt that it just didn’t seem right to leave him like that.
Harry nodded. “Alright, I should go and let you sleep anyway. I’ll come back in the morning with some clothes for you. They won’t be what you are used to,” he smiled, “but you’ll at least be covered.”
Malfoy nodded his thanks, and perked up a bit to tease. “Seeing my naked body too much for you then, Potter?”
“Oh, yeah, Malfoy, I can hardly restrain myself from throwing you on the bed and shagging your brains out,” Harry drawled.
Funny, it didn’t sound so gross when he said it aloud.
“What’s stopping you, then?” Malfoy shot back lightly, a hint of hope in his voice.
Harry gave him a long stare before answering. “Beside the fact that you are thin as a rake and obviously not well and are still a Death Eater and my enemy until proven otherwise, you mean?” he asked with a smile on his face.
Malfoy merely raised his eyebrow and smirked. “I shall endeavour to recover extraordinarily quickly then, shall I? While you are doing your ‘Saviour’ thing and proving my innocence. Then you can shag me senseless any time you like.”
“Look, Malfoy, I don’t even know how to go about proving that you helped Snape find that spell. If I can’t then I don’t know what to do to save you from Azkaban,” Harry said, ignoring him.
Malfoy ran a tried hand over his eyes, nodding, deflated once more. “Why do you believe me then?”
“Because I know now how closely Snape must have kept his secret about his role as a spy. I know what he was like about his possessions and his work. His whole nature was secretive and unless you were helping him, there is no way that he would have let slip about his research or his findings.
“The problem is that no one believes he was still a spy for the Order. After he killed Dumbledore, the whole Wizarding world thought of him as a traitor. No one knew about the spell, apart from me and Hermione and Ron. I didn’t tell the Order and I can bet that my friends didn’t tell anyone either. Nor would Snape have told anyone. I need to find a way to prove him not a traitor before the fact that you helped him will make any difference.”
“Why can’t you tell them that he gave you the spell?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. He could tell the Ministry everything. About the Horcruxes and what they were. How Ron and Hermione and himself had been the ones to find and destroy them. But, there was no proof of that either. Even Hermione had agreed not to keep any notes, which was a hard decision for her to make, in case they fell into the hands of yet another power hungry psychotic. Dumbledore, Slughorn and Snape were all dead and they were the only ones Harry knew of that could confirm his story.
Logically, therefore, telling the Ministry that not only was Snape still a spy for the Order - an organisation the Ministry had little time for - but that he had provided the spell needed to kill Voldemort, and, to top that off, a Death Eater in custody had helped him? They’d never believe him. It was too slim a chance to take, unless he couldn’t come up with some proof. There was still time to find some.
“They wouldn’t believe me,” he finally said.
“I’m pretty well fucked then, aren’t I?” Malfoy seemed to shrink into himself.
Harry had to agree right now. It seemed so long ago that he had hated Malfoy, but in the space of a few hours, the hate had disappeared. Now, he wasn’t sure what he felt. There was pity there. He’d had his doubts confirmed, Malfoy wasn’t a killer, but now he was stuck in a situation that would have him branded one, or a traitor. Either way it didn’t matter, unless Harry found some way to prove what Malfoy had been doing during the war, then he was going to go to Azkaban.
He looked at Malfoy. “Don’t give up, I’ll think of something. You should get some sleep now, though.”
Malfoy nodded and stood wearily, heading back to the bed. Harry stood also, preparing to leave, but Malfoy grabbed his arm, turning him around to face him.
“Po- err, Harry, can I ask something of you?”
Harry looked into the dejected face and nodded. “Of course.”
“Would you mind terribly if I hugged you?” Their eyes met and Harry could see the pleading, lost lonely need of the young man who had cried for his mother. This wasn’t flirting; this was comfort, the solid comfort of another human body to reassure him that he was not alone.
In response, Harry held out his arms and nodded. When he felt Malfoy's thin arms wrap around his waist he closed his own awkwardly around his shoulders.
~~~~~~
“Mr. Potter…Harry, can you tell us how you killed he Who Must Not Be Named?”
“Harry, there are rumours that you have a Death Eater in the Ministry Building, can you…?”
“Mr. Potter, tell us what is next in the life of The Chosen One.”
The voices all seemed to come at once and blur into a babble of noise so that Harry could hardly think straight, let alone see for the flashing of the bulbs on the cameras that various reporters in the crowd were using.
It was Harry’s first official ‘meet the press’ function that he had promised Scrimgeour he would attend, and it was at the ungodly hour of 9am. Harry had donned clean, respectable trousers and a button down shirt, cleaned his glasses and even made an attempt to do something with his hair. Not that it made much difference and in reality he didn’t care all that much. His appearance was just a part of him and of little importance.
Still, he’d made the effort and Scrimgeour was sitting beside him, looking almost like a proud parent, which made Harry churn a little on the inside. He held up his hand to stop all the questioning.
“One at a time, please. I’ll try and answer all your questions but I can’t if I can’t understand them,” he grinned, hoping to relieve some of his own nerves, by getting the reporters to act a little less like a mob. They, in turn, stepped back, no less eager than before, but mollified that Harry had said he would try to answer all questions.
“Thank you,” Harry said, pleased that at least Scrimgeour was letting him run this how he liked and had not taken control of the whole interview. He pointed to one young reporter, with a flashing nametag that read, ‘Janus Binkerton, Quibbler.’ “You first, you have a question?”
“Yes, Harry, Janus Binkerton, Quibbler. My readers would like to know what it was that you used to kill V-Voldemort,” the young man stuttered and sat down.
Harry smiled. “Unfortunately, that is something I cannot tell you, Janus. Not even the Minister here knows that. I’d like to keep that information to myself for the moment, if you don’t mind.”
Janus, as well as the rest of the reporters, looked disappointed but most of them clamoured to be the next one to ask a question. Harry pointed to another reporter, who looked suspiciously like Rita Skeeter, but whom Harry knew couldn’t be, as that particular bug had been sent off to America where her brand of reporting was much more… accepted.
“Harry, Mr. Potter,” the woman said. “About this Death Eater it is rumoured that you have in custody.”
“Yes…er sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Harry smiled tightly.
“Talulah Swirl for Witch Weekly, sorry. The question is, is there a Death Eater in the Ministry cells and if so, who and why is he there?”
Harry gave a glance towards Scrimgeour and they both shook their heads. They had both agreed before the media conference that they would not divulge Malfoy’s identity officially, although too many people knew about it for it not to leak to the media sooner or later.
Harry turned back to look at the reporters. “Yes, there is a Death Eater in the Ministry holding cells. He is helping us with our enquiries and unfortunately, I cannot tell you any more at this stage.”
“Does that mean that the Death Eater in question could have been a spy, Mr. Potter?” This and several other questions were all fired at him from several quarters and he held up his hand once more.
“No more about that, please. Until things are finalised there has to be some confidentiality kept. Next question?” Harry pointed out another wizard.
“Peter Sully, Freedom Press, “Could you, or the Minister tell us if the Death Eaters will be questioned using Veritaserum, and if so, what safeguards will be in place to protect the minds of those undergoing questioning that way?”
Harry felt Scrimgeour lean close and whisper in his ear. “The Freedom Press is an activist magazine campaigning for prisoner’s rights. Damn meddlesome and bloody interfering…” but Harry moved his head away and smiled. He’d have to get onto this Peter Sully and see what this magazine was all about. He was sure that Hermione would be interested, too. He turned back to Sully.
“Whilst this is hardly the place to be discussing civil rights, I will say this. In each case, The Ministry should be made to prove the guilt of the accused, rather than relying on archaic and often brutal methods of extracting information, and I will endeavour to ensure that this is the case.” He earned himself a black look from Scrimgeour for that statement, but Harry didn’t mind. “Next question?”
“Bessie Featherstone, Mr. Potter. Can you tell us what your plans are now for the future?”
Harry took a deep breath before he started on his planned answer. He and Scrimgeour has worked out this little speech after Harry had come back from leaving Malfoy some clothes and checking up on his injuries early this morning. He didn’t agree with a lot of it, but the pieces that Scrimgeour wanted included were the price he payed for getting what he wanted.
“Thanks, Bessie,” Harry started and looked around at the crowd, blinking a bit. He didn’t like being here, he really was uncomfortable being in such a limelight, but he had grown up enough to realise that it was part of his life and he could use it to make his and others’ lives easier.
“For now, I will be helping the Ministry bring to trial those Death Eaters we have in custody in Azkaban. The Minister and I want to ensure that those accused of being Death Eaters are in fact guilty of more than having a brand on their arm.”
He looked closely at all of them.
“Fear makes us all do things we would never dream of otherwise. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain and suffering, fear for the safety of our loved ones. We will be making sure that just punishments are handed down for all. Minister Scrimgeour and his staff are just as eager to have this finalised, as I’m sure we all are.
“But, let me assure you, that fear of the Death Eaters, or fear of another Dark Lord, does not justify behaving in a manner that brings us down to his level. We are finally free of the terror that he injected into all of us and are now at peace. We must learn to live in peace again.
“I want to impress upon you to take that into consideration. Think about it. Retaliation against the families of those held as Death Eaters and traitors, does no one any good. Revenge only leads to darkness and bitterness and makes us no better than Voldemort.
“We are free from that. We are at peace and the Ministry and I will be working hard to ensure that we are not like Voldemort, we do not need to live like him.”
He was a bit breathless when he was done, the nerves of saying such a long speech making his breathing slightly erratic. He knew his face had an impassioned look to it and he kept it there to show them how serious he was. It galled him that he had to align himself with the Ministry so obviously, but if Scrimgeour were serious when he said that he agreed with Harry that they had to learn to live in peace again, then it might be worth it.
There was a few minutes' silence while all the reporters digested this information. Then, their questions seemed to all come at once. Harry let Scrimgeour deal with them. He’d done his part as agreed, and now the ones dealing officially with the recovery could take over. Instead, his mind began to list all the things he would have to do. He still hadn’t found time to listen to Malfoy’s story since he left Hogwarts, or go and see Dean. Both of which he’d have to do today. And he needed to bring Ron and Hermione up to date on what he’d found out. If anyone could come up with a solution, then Hermione could.
He felt a little guilty at having to ask Hermione to help out. She deserved a break. She and Ron had borne the brunt of Harry’s tempers and doubts and frustrations in the search for the Horcruxes and now it seemed that he would need to call on them both again. He was unsure if Ron would even help, seeing as it was for Malfoy, and no matter how innocent Malfoy was, Ron hated him and would baulk at helping.
His attention was called back to the reporters when he heard his name called by one of them, attached to a very personal question.
“Mr. Potter, what association do you have with a Mr. Draco Malfoy?” was the question and it had come from a balding middle-aged man that Harry had not noticed before. He looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place him. For a moment, Harry did not reply, his mind was running at a hundred miles an hour. Why would someone ask him about Malfoy? As far as anyone except a few people knew, the last time Harry had seen Malfoy was in the battle at Hogwarts when Dumbledore had died.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand the question,” Harry replied warily.
“There are rumours that your relationship with Draco Malfoy is, shall we say, close,” the man smiled maliciously.
There was a leak somewhere. Perhaps too many people knew that Malfoy was the Death Eater being held in the Ministry. Harry was sure that none of the Weasley’s would tell the press anything. They were more than aware of Harry’s disregard for them. Someone in the Ministry then? Scrimgeour had promised him that all staff were under confidentiality agreements and no one in the Ministry Building would be able to release any information to the Press.
Harry stopped. Coghill. That’s who it must have been. The Auror that had been transferred to another job detail outside the Ministry for beating up Malfoy. He’d made accusations like that to Harry when Harry had first visited Malfoy. He was the only one it could be. He had a motive to discredit Harry and he’d threatened to make Harry sorry.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, sir,” Harry replied tightly, only minute traces of sarcasm on the ‘sir’. “Draco Malfoy and I have a history of hostility towards each other. Nothing has changed. That will be all.”
Harry had had enough for the day. He didn’t have to sit there and listen to that type of slander. He rose and left the room, not even noticing Fred and George by the door, handing out leaflets about their shop to anyone entering or leaving, until they fell in step beside him and walked with him to the Apparition point.
“That was a pretty low blow in there, Harry,” Fred frowned, serious for once.
Harry rubbed his scar, frowning. “Yeah, but I expected some questions about my private life…just not that sort. Listen,” he stopped and turned to them both, “could you two do me a favour and find out who he is? Someone is leaking information to the Press and I’d like to be able to put a stop to it.”
“’Course,” said George.
“It’s our new profession, Harry,” Fred smiled, now.
“Investigations?”
“We’re perfect for it,” George winked.
“No one takes us seriously at all,” Fred joked.
“I wonder why,” grinned Harry.
“And, it helps us come up with new lines for the shop.” George pulled out a round, smooth object from his pocket, about the size of Harry’s smallest fingernail.
“That,” said Fred, pointing to it, “is the Weasley’s Wizard Wheel. Designed to be slipped into someone’s pocket unobtrusively, or left somewhere out of sight,”
“And record everything they say,” finished George. “Muggles have extremely interesting spy equipment, but we’ve enhanced this with good old fashioned Wizarding know how.”
“Normally, a Muggle listening device needs a transmitter to send the recording to whoever planted it.”
George continued. “And once it is in place, it has to stay there until physically removed.”
“But we can direct this one to remove itself,” Fred said sagely. Then he broke into a grin. “It just rolls away and disappears, poof, into thin air.”
“Hence the name,” George also grinned. “It also has a security device as well. If the person it is planted on becomes aware of what they think is a stone in their pocket, it will also disappear. That’s why we couldn’t let you try it out the other day. If you know about it, it won’t work.”
“That’s ingenious, guys,” Harry said, impressed. “I suppose it’s an updated version of the Extendable ears, then?”
“Yes, mum soon cottoned on to the fact that we were always listening where we shouldn’t and confiscated them all, even after we made new ones,” Fred confirmed. “So, we can slip this into that fellow’s pocket and listen to who he contacts and report back to you.”
George nodded in agreement. “The reason we were actually here, today, is that we were hoping to get to talk to Robards. We thought the Ministry might be interested in some of our products.”
“I’m sure they will be,” Harry smiled, grateful more than words could say that these two were in his life. They were cheeky and irreverent, but they were also amazingly practical. “You’ll let me know, when you hear anything, right?”
“Of course we will, Harry,” George said, rolling his eyes.
“Trust us,” Fred said.
Harry gave them both a quick pat on the shoulder. “Thanks. I have to go and see Dean, now. I hope that that lot in there don’t take it into their head to follow me,” he said.
The twins locked arms and stood between Harry and the door to the Press room. “We’ll protect you, oh Saviour,” the both asserted in gruff, burly voices.
Harry laughed and waved them off, in a much better frame of mind than he had been a few minutes previously.
Chapter 7
Author: jamie2109
Rating: This Chapter PG-13 but will get to NC-17, eventually.
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: 4152
Summary: Post HBP, Post War. The war is won, Voldemort is dead and the Wizarding World must learn to live in peace. Harry has Draco in custody and wants some answers.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, although the situations are mine and the OC's are also mine.
A/N: Finally, I get this chapter finished. I actually like this one, a lot. Thanks to nocturnali and son_of_darkness for the beta work. I love you two to pieces. Any mistakes left are my own, as I usually make changes after they're done with it. D'oh.
Previous Chapters
Chapter 6.
“I know what Corpus Inflammare is.”
Harry’s finger gripped tighter into Malfoy’s shoulder when he heard those words and a frown of disbelief covered his face.
“What did you say?”
Malfoy sniffed and wiped his face, shaking the hair from his eyes as they once more captured Harry’s. “I said,” his voice was getting stronger now, “I know what Corpus Inflammare is. I know all about it, I helped discover it.”
Harry pulled back and tried to let go of Malfoy’s shoulder but Malfoy refused to let Harry’s hand go. Harry was in too much shock to pay it much attention, just stood there, processing what Malfoy had actually said.
Corpus Inflammare was the spell that Harry had used on Voldemort - or what was left of him - after they had destroyed all the Horcruxes. It was the spell that Snape had managed to sneak out to the Order, to Harry specifically. Harry had told no one except Hermione and Ron about the spell, how he had received it and from whom.
They, none of them, had even known what it was or how it worked. No matter how much Hermione had researched, how many books she had waded through, there was very little information on Horcruxes, let alone how to destroy someone once their Horcrux protection was gone. She had found nothing.
For almost a month they had tried to find out about the spell. They had tested it on inanimate objects expecting them to burn as Inflammare meant, ‘to burn’. Nothing. With Hermione gagging and wringing her hands and Harry’s wand hand shaking, they had even tested it on a mouse, thinking that perhaps the Corpus part of the spell indicated that it needed a body. Again, nothing. In the end they had decided that testing the spell on a person was too much and, if the time arose, they would just have to have faith that it worked.
And having that faith was not an easy task. The spell had come from a questionable source at best. How were they to believe that Snape was acting to their benefit? How could they have faith in a man that had killed their mentor?
The main reason was the attached note that came with the information.
Potter,
Dumbledore trusted me.
The note was in that same small cramped handwriting that he had seen in the potions book belonging to the Half Blood Prince. His initial reaction had been to scowl and disregard the spell, thinking, ‘Yeah, Dumbledore trusted you and you killed him!’ The more he had thought about it though, the more things just didn’t seem to fit. He knew Dumbledore was dying - he’d helped with that by forcing the poison down his throat. Also, Dumbledore would never beg for his life like that. No, something else had been going on and it was just another of the many questions he’d had about that night that no one seemed able to answer.
Malfoy’s voice bought him back from his thoughts. “Harry…?”
Harry blinked, turned towards the voice and realised he was still holding Malfoy’s hand and that he was being looked at in some concern. He extracted his hand from Malfoy’s and sat down, rubbing at his temple. “I think you’d better tell me what you know about that spell,” he said tiredly.
“I helped Snape find it,” Malfoy replied. When Harry looked up at him, he could see that Malfoy was more composed now and looking at him with a smug little smile.
“Why should I believe you, Malfoy?” Of course Harry was not going to just believe every word that came out of Malfoy’s mouth. He wanted to, which surprised him. Astounded him, actually. Why on earth did he want to believe Malfoy? If it were true and Malfoy did actually help find the spell that killed Voldemort for good, then that pretty much was his ticket out of Azkaban. In good conscience, Harry could not let him go there…if this were true.
Malfoy looked at him coolly, with a hint of irritation. “Did you ever find out what that spell does, exactly, Potter?”
“Well, obviously, Malfoy. It burned Voldemort.” Harry retorted. Malfoy waved at him impatiently.
“I assume you told the other two members of your little fan club, in which case I’m sure you had Granger test out the spell, do research, seeing as she is the brains of the Golden Trio,” he said crinkling his nose as if he’d said something unpleasant and, knowing Malfoy, he would be disgusted that he’d had to admit Hermione was clever. “What did she find? It didn’t work on anything else, did it?”
“No, it didn’t. Do you know why?”
Malfoy sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which was dirty and lank, though at this point, Harry saw that he hardly cared.
“Corpus Inflammare is a spell that was designed specifically to destroy, by fire, the body of a splintered soul. It was never going to work on anyone or anything else except Voldemort.”
Well, that would explain it, Harry thought, but it raised a lot of other questions. Nodding thoughtfully, Harry looked at Malfoy in a whole new light.
“Tell me,” he said, “Why were you helping Snape, then?”
“It’s along story, Harry, do you mind if I tell you tomorrow?” Malfoy was looking tired. Belly full of good food, but still weak and undernourished, the consequences of his recent beating were obviously telling on his body. Besides, he was still naked and Harry, whilst not uncomfortable with that, felt that it just didn’t seem right to leave him like that.
Harry nodded. “Alright, I should go and let you sleep anyway. I’ll come back in the morning with some clothes for you. They won’t be what you are used to,” he smiled, “but you’ll at least be covered.”
Malfoy nodded his thanks, and perked up a bit to tease. “Seeing my naked body too much for you then, Potter?”
“Oh, yeah, Malfoy, I can hardly restrain myself from throwing you on the bed and shagging your brains out,” Harry drawled.
Funny, it didn’t sound so gross when he said it aloud.
“What’s stopping you, then?” Malfoy shot back lightly, a hint of hope in his voice.
Harry gave him a long stare before answering. “Beside the fact that you are thin as a rake and obviously not well and are still a Death Eater and my enemy until proven otherwise, you mean?” he asked with a smile on his face.
Malfoy merely raised his eyebrow and smirked. “I shall endeavour to recover extraordinarily quickly then, shall I? While you are doing your ‘Saviour’ thing and proving my innocence. Then you can shag me senseless any time you like.”
“Look, Malfoy, I don’t even know how to go about proving that you helped Snape find that spell. If I can’t then I don’t know what to do to save you from Azkaban,” Harry said, ignoring him.
Malfoy ran a tried hand over his eyes, nodding, deflated once more. “Why do you believe me then?”
“Because I know now how closely Snape must have kept his secret about his role as a spy. I know what he was like about his possessions and his work. His whole nature was secretive and unless you were helping him, there is no way that he would have let slip about his research or his findings.
“The problem is that no one believes he was still a spy for the Order. After he killed Dumbledore, the whole Wizarding world thought of him as a traitor. No one knew about the spell, apart from me and Hermione and Ron. I didn’t tell the Order and I can bet that my friends didn’t tell anyone either. Nor would Snape have told anyone. I need to find a way to prove him not a traitor before the fact that you helped him will make any difference.”
“Why can’t you tell them that he gave you the spell?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. He could tell the Ministry everything. About the Horcruxes and what they were. How Ron and Hermione and himself had been the ones to find and destroy them. But, there was no proof of that either. Even Hermione had agreed not to keep any notes, which was a hard decision for her to make, in case they fell into the hands of yet another power hungry psychotic. Dumbledore, Slughorn and Snape were all dead and they were the only ones Harry knew of that could confirm his story.
Logically, therefore, telling the Ministry that not only was Snape still a spy for the Order - an organisation the Ministry had little time for - but that he had provided the spell needed to kill Voldemort, and, to top that off, a Death Eater in custody had helped him? They’d never believe him. It was too slim a chance to take, unless he couldn’t come up with some proof. There was still time to find some.
“They wouldn’t believe me,” he finally said.
“I’m pretty well fucked then, aren’t I?” Malfoy seemed to shrink into himself.
Harry had to agree right now. It seemed so long ago that he had hated Malfoy, but in the space of a few hours, the hate had disappeared. Now, he wasn’t sure what he felt. There was pity there. He’d had his doubts confirmed, Malfoy wasn’t a killer, but now he was stuck in a situation that would have him branded one, or a traitor. Either way it didn’t matter, unless Harry found some way to prove what Malfoy had been doing during the war, then he was going to go to Azkaban.
He looked at Malfoy. “Don’t give up, I’ll think of something. You should get some sleep now, though.”
Malfoy nodded and stood wearily, heading back to the bed. Harry stood also, preparing to leave, but Malfoy grabbed his arm, turning him around to face him.
“Po- err, Harry, can I ask something of you?”
Harry looked into the dejected face and nodded. “Of course.”
“Would you mind terribly if I hugged you?” Their eyes met and Harry could see the pleading, lost lonely need of the young man who had cried for his mother. This wasn’t flirting; this was comfort, the solid comfort of another human body to reassure him that he was not alone.
In response, Harry held out his arms and nodded. When he felt Malfoy's thin arms wrap around his waist he closed his own awkwardly around his shoulders.
~~~~~~
“Mr. Potter…Harry, can you tell us how you killed he Who Must Not Be Named?”
“Harry, there are rumours that you have a Death Eater in the Ministry Building, can you…?”
“Mr. Potter, tell us what is next in the life of The Chosen One.”
The voices all seemed to come at once and blur into a babble of noise so that Harry could hardly think straight, let alone see for the flashing of the bulbs on the cameras that various reporters in the crowd were using.
It was Harry’s first official ‘meet the press’ function that he had promised Scrimgeour he would attend, and it was at the ungodly hour of 9am. Harry had donned clean, respectable trousers and a button down shirt, cleaned his glasses and even made an attempt to do something with his hair. Not that it made much difference and in reality he didn’t care all that much. His appearance was just a part of him and of little importance.
Still, he’d made the effort and Scrimgeour was sitting beside him, looking almost like a proud parent, which made Harry churn a little on the inside. He held up his hand to stop all the questioning.
“One at a time, please. I’ll try and answer all your questions but I can’t if I can’t understand them,” he grinned, hoping to relieve some of his own nerves, by getting the reporters to act a little less like a mob. They, in turn, stepped back, no less eager than before, but mollified that Harry had said he would try to answer all questions.
“Thank you,” Harry said, pleased that at least Scrimgeour was letting him run this how he liked and had not taken control of the whole interview. He pointed to one young reporter, with a flashing nametag that read, ‘Janus Binkerton, Quibbler.’ “You first, you have a question?”
“Yes, Harry, Janus Binkerton, Quibbler. My readers would like to know what it was that you used to kill V-Voldemort,” the young man stuttered and sat down.
Harry smiled. “Unfortunately, that is something I cannot tell you, Janus. Not even the Minister here knows that. I’d like to keep that information to myself for the moment, if you don’t mind.”
Janus, as well as the rest of the reporters, looked disappointed but most of them clamoured to be the next one to ask a question. Harry pointed to another reporter, who looked suspiciously like Rita Skeeter, but whom Harry knew couldn’t be, as that particular bug had been sent off to America where her brand of reporting was much more… accepted.
“Harry, Mr. Potter,” the woman said. “About this Death Eater it is rumoured that you have in custody.”
“Yes…er sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Harry smiled tightly.
“Talulah Swirl for Witch Weekly, sorry. The question is, is there a Death Eater in the Ministry cells and if so, who and why is he there?”
Harry gave a glance towards Scrimgeour and they both shook their heads. They had both agreed before the media conference that they would not divulge Malfoy’s identity officially, although too many people knew about it for it not to leak to the media sooner or later.
Harry turned back to look at the reporters. “Yes, there is a Death Eater in the Ministry holding cells. He is helping us with our enquiries and unfortunately, I cannot tell you any more at this stage.”
“Does that mean that the Death Eater in question could have been a spy, Mr. Potter?” This and several other questions were all fired at him from several quarters and he held up his hand once more.
“No more about that, please. Until things are finalised there has to be some confidentiality kept. Next question?” Harry pointed out another wizard.
“Peter Sully, Freedom Press, “Could you, or the Minister tell us if the Death Eaters will be questioned using Veritaserum, and if so, what safeguards will be in place to protect the minds of those undergoing questioning that way?”
Harry felt Scrimgeour lean close and whisper in his ear. “The Freedom Press is an activist magazine campaigning for prisoner’s rights. Damn meddlesome and bloody interfering…” but Harry moved his head away and smiled. He’d have to get onto this Peter Sully and see what this magazine was all about. He was sure that Hermione would be interested, too. He turned back to Sully.
“Whilst this is hardly the place to be discussing civil rights, I will say this. In each case, The Ministry should be made to prove the guilt of the accused, rather than relying on archaic and often brutal methods of extracting information, and I will endeavour to ensure that this is the case.” He earned himself a black look from Scrimgeour for that statement, but Harry didn’t mind. “Next question?”
“Bessie Featherstone, Mr. Potter. Can you tell us what your plans are now for the future?”
Harry took a deep breath before he started on his planned answer. He and Scrimgeour has worked out this little speech after Harry had come back from leaving Malfoy some clothes and checking up on his injuries early this morning. He didn’t agree with a lot of it, but the pieces that Scrimgeour wanted included were the price he payed for getting what he wanted.
“Thanks, Bessie,” Harry started and looked around at the crowd, blinking a bit. He didn’t like being here, he really was uncomfortable being in such a limelight, but he had grown up enough to realise that it was part of his life and he could use it to make his and others’ lives easier.
“For now, I will be helping the Ministry bring to trial those Death Eaters we have in custody in Azkaban. The Minister and I want to ensure that those accused of being Death Eaters are in fact guilty of more than having a brand on their arm.”
He looked closely at all of them.
“Fear makes us all do things we would never dream of otherwise. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain and suffering, fear for the safety of our loved ones. We will be making sure that just punishments are handed down for all. Minister Scrimgeour and his staff are just as eager to have this finalised, as I’m sure we all are.
“But, let me assure you, that fear of the Death Eaters, or fear of another Dark Lord, does not justify behaving in a manner that brings us down to his level. We are finally free of the terror that he injected into all of us and are now at peace. We must learn to live in peace again.
“I want to impress upon you to take that into consideration. Think about it. Retaliation against the families of those held as Death Eaters and traitors, does no one any good. Revenge only leads to darkness and bitterness and makes us no better than Voldemort.
“We are free from that. We are at peace and the Ministry and I will be working hard to ensure that we are not like Voldemort, we do not need to live like him.”
He was a bit breathless when he was done, the nerves of saying such a long speech making his breathing slightly erratic. He knew his face had an impassioned look to it and he kept it there to show them how serious he was. It galled him that he had to align himself with the Ministry so obviously, but if Scrimgeour were serious when he said that he agreed with Harry that they had to learn to live in peace again, then it might be worth it.
There was a few minutes' silence while all the reporters digested this information. Then, their questions seemed to all come at once. Harry let Scrimgeour deal with them. He’d done his part as agreed, and now the ones dealing officially with the recovery could take over. Instead, his mind began to list all the things he would have to do. He still hadn’t found time to listen to Malfoy’s story since he left Hogwarts, or go and see Dean. Both of which he’d have to do today. And he needed to bring Ron and Hermione up to date on what he’d found out. If anyone could come up with a solution, then Hermione could.
He felt a little guilty at having to ask Hermione to help out. She deserved a break. She and Ron had borne the brunt of Harry’s tempers and doubts and frustrations in the search for the Horcruxes and now it seemed that he would need to call on them both again. He was unsure if Ron would even help, seeing as it was for Malfoy, and no matter how innocent Malfoy was, Ron hated him and would baulk at helping.
His attention was called back to the reporters when he heard his name called by one of them, attached to a very personal question.
“Mr. Potter, what association do you have with a Mr. Draco Malfoy?” was the question and it had come from a balding middle-aged man that Harry had not noticed before. He looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place him. For a moment, Harry did not reply, his mind was running at a hundred miles an hour. Why would someone ask him about Malfoy? As far as anyone except a few people knew, the last time Harry had seen Malfoy was in the battle at Hogwarts when Dumbledore had died.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand the question,” Harry replied warily.
“There are rumours that your relationship with Draco Malfoy is, shall we say, close,” the man smiled maliciously.
There was a leak somewhere. Perhaps too many people knew that Malfoy was the Death Eater being held in the Ministry. Harry was sure that none of the Weasley’s would tell the press anything. They were more than aware of Harry’s disregard for them. Someone in the Ministry then? Scrimgeour had promised him that all staff were under confidentiality agreements and no one in the Ministry Building would be able to release any information to the Press.
Harry stopped. Coghill. That’s who it must have been. The Auror that had been transferred to another job detail outside the Ministry for beating up Malfoy. He’d made accusations like that to Harry when Harry had first visited Malfoy. He was the only one it could be. He had a motive to discredit Harry and he’d threatened to make Harry sorry.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, sir,” Harry replied tightly, only minute traces of sarcasm on the ‘sir’. “Draco Malfoy and I have a history of hostility towards each other. Nothing has changed. That will be all.”
Harry had had enough for the day. He didn’t have to sit there and listen to that type of slander. He rose and left the room, not even noticing Fred and George by the door, handing out leaflets about their shop to anyone entering or leaving, until they fell in step beside him and walked with him to the Apparition point.
“That was a pretty low blow in there, Harry,” Fred frowned, serious for once.
Harry rubbed his scar, frowning. “Yeah, but I expected some questions about my private life…just not that sort. Listen,” he stopped and turned to them both, “could you two do me a favour and find out who he is? Someone is leaking information to the Press and I’d like to be able to put a stop to it.”
“’Course,” said George.
“It’s our new profession, Harry,” Fred smiled, now.
“Investigations?”
“We’re perfect for it,” George winked.
“No one takes us seriously at all,” Fred joked.
“I wonder why,” grinned Harry.
“And, it helps us come up with new lines for the shop.” George pulled out a round, smooth object from his pocket, about the size of Harry’s smallest fingernail.
“That,” said Fred, pointing to it, “is the Weasley’s Wizard Wheel. Designed to be slipped into someone’s pocket unobtrusively, or left somewhere out of sight,”
“And record everything they say,” finished George. “Muggles have extremely interesting spy equipment, but we’ve enhanced this with good old fashioned Wizarding know how.”
“Normally, a Muggle listening device needs a transmitter to send the recording to whoever planted it.”
George continued. “And once it is in place, it has to stay there until physically removed.”
“But we can direct this one to remove itself,” Fred said sagely. Then he broke into a grin. “It just rolls away and disappears, poof, into thin air.”
“Hence the name,” George also grinned. “It also has a security device as well. If the person it is planted on becomes aware of what they think is a stone in their pocket, it will also disappear. That’s why we couldn’t let you try it out the other day. If you know about it, it won’t work.”
“That’s ingenious, guys,” Harry said, impressed. “I suppose it’s an updated version of the Extendable ears, then?”
“Yes, mum soon cottoned on to the fact that we were always listening where we shouldn’t and confiscated them all, even after we made new ones,” Fred confirmed. “So, we can slip this into that fellow’s pocket and listen to who he contacts and report back to you.”
George nodded in agreement. “The reason we were actually here, today, is that we were hoping to get to talk to Robards. We thought the Ministry might be interested in some of our products.”
“I’m sure they will be,” Harry smiled, grateful more than words could say that these two were in his life. They were cheeky and irreverent, but they were also amazingly practical. “You’ll let me know, when you hear anything, right?”
“Of course we will, Harry,” George said, rolling his eyes.
“Trust us,” Fred said.
Harry gave them both a quick pat on the shoulder. “Thanks. I have to go and see Dean, now. I hope that that lot in there don’t take it into their head to follow me,” he said.
The twins locked arms and stood between Harry and the door to the Press room. “We’ll protect you, oh Saviour,” the both asserted in gruff, burly voices.
Harry laughed and waved them off, in a much better frame of mind than he had been a few minutes previously.
Chapter 7