Hard Time, Chapter 27
Title: Hard Time Ch. 27/?
Author: Juwel (juweldom@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Rating: Adult (NC-17)
Catetories: romance, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: SPOILERS for DH, compliant with DH except for the epilogue. Warnings for rape (early chapters), submission and domination, and suicidal tendencies.
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
Summary: The war is over, and the Death Eaters must do hard time in Azkaban. Draco must vanquish his worst enemy; his own fear.
Notes: Thanks to bdtinkerpot for the beta read! We're nearing the end of this monster fic--I'm thinking only about 3 or 4 more chapters to go.
4368 words this chapter
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26
******
The minute after they returned to the Manor, Harry was pulling Draco against him, needing to touch him, needing the taste of him, the smell, everything. Two weeks. It was too damned short, and it felt like time was slipping away from them, second by second. He closed his mouth over Draco's, sucking on Draco's lip, arms around him as the two of them backed towards the staircase, trying to make it to the bedroom.
Harry didn't want to wait that long.
Draco seemed just as desperate for touch; he was pulling at Harry's shirt, lifting it over Harry's head, undulating up against him as if he were on fire and Harry was cool water to quench him. They didn't need to talk about Hogwarts, not yet -- it had taken a toll on both of them to go there, and they both knew it. Draco had silently mourned Snape during the walk back, and Harry had shared in that mourning, and remembering all the others who had fallen in the conflict. Now Harry just wanted. Needed Draco.
Sucking at Harry's tongue, Draco moaned, hands working Harry's fly open. Harry shoved Draco back up against a wall near the staircase, his own hands busy trying to free Draco from his suit jacket, his shirt -- too many damned buttons. He growled in frustration. With a flick of his wrist, Draco had his wand in hand, and then the buttons were unbuttoning themselves, clothes neatly sliding off of him and folding themselves on the first step. Neat trick, Harry thought.
Meanwhile, Harry had manually shoved his own jeans down, so with Draco naked and him mostly so, Harry manoeuvred one of Draco's legs to rest on his hip, letting Draco's back lean against the wall. That way he could reach down behind Draco, parting his arsecheeks with his fingers to tease Draco's hole, rubbing around it in little circles as their tongues duelled for control of the kiss. "Want to fuck you . . . right here . . . against this wall," Harry said between kisses. Draco moaned and nodded, bucking back against his fingers.
Spit wasn't going to quite do it for this position, so Harry used his own wand to summon the lube, pouring just enough over his fingers to coat Draco's puckered entrance and Harry's cock. Then he let both wand and lube fall to the floor, using both hands to lift Draco up, legs draped around him, wall half supporting as Harry slid his cock in, letting Draco's weight take care of the rest. Draco cried out softly, muscles in his legs flexing hard, arse muscles clenching tight around Harry so that he had to stop for a moment, afraid to hurt Draco.
"Oh Merlin -- please! Yes!" Draco bit down on the side of Harry's neck, arms holding him tight, fingers clawing into his back. The movement caused Harry to slide a little further inside. He groaned, feeling his legs tremble, and thankful that Draco didn't weigh too much.
Harry ended up grasping Draco under each leg, lifting him so that he could thrust home again, and then they were fucking, Draco holding tight to him, crying out as Harry impaled him over and over. Harry's legs were quivering with the strain, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the feel of Draco pressed up tight against him, their mouths exchanging clumsy kisses.
Not surprising then, with their hands busy just holding their position, that Harry came first, shuddering as he spilled his come deep inside. His hands lost their grip and Draco slid down as Harry pulled out, holding onto Harry until his feet could find their balance on the floor. Draco looked content, even though he hadn't come yet.
Harry looked down at Draco's turgid cock and knew what he wanted next. He dropped to his knees, and the wall proved useful once again, as Draco braced himself against it, looking down at Harry with eyes stone grey with lust. Harry smiled, a wicked smile, giving Draco's cock a slow stroke with his hand. Draco's eyelashes fluttered.
"Please," Draco whispered, but didn't move, panting softly.
He could be cruel, Harry thought, since he'd already come; he could torment the living daylights out of Draco. With that thought in mind, he ran the tip of his tongue around the head of Draco's cock, swirling around, flicking, teasing him. Draco let out a strangled moan. "Please, oh Merlin's sake, Harry! Please more," Draco begged, pounding the palm of his hand against the wall in frustration.
God, the sight of him made Harry crazy. If he kept this up, he'd be hard enough to fuck Draco again before long. But he was tired; he knew Draco was also, even if he couldn't feel it at the moment. So Harry decided to be merciful, swallowing Draco down until he was just at the gag reflex, nose pressed almost to the blond curling hairs. Draco groaned, trembling. Harry held onto Draco's hips and sucked him for all his worth, taking him down over and over, until he felt the first spurt of come on the back of his throat, as Draco emitted a high-pitched whine. Harry drank his come eagerly, and then stood up to help support Draco, who looked ready to collapse.
"Can we just Apparate to the bedroom?" Draco asked breathlessly, clinging to Harry.
Harry chuckled. "Don’t' know if I have the mental strength for that right now. Come on--it's just up the stairs." He slid an arm around Draco's waist, and together they made their way up, Harry kicking his jeans off on the first step to leave them lying there. They collapsed into bed, and soon were fast asleep.
***
The next couple of days were spent in a flurry of activity, preparing for the meeting with Kingsley. Draco finished up his account of his time spent in Azkaban, and through an exchange of owls, Hermione agreed that she could testify towards Draco's changed behaviour at the trial. She also updated Harry about Ron and Ginny. Ron was confounded by the plan to help Draco, while Ginny had been strangely silent about it. Harry knew Ginny was a smart girl. He wondered if she'd figured things out.
Hermione warned Harry that he should expect either a visit or an owl from Ron soon.
For this appointment, Harry and Draco both wore robes, Draco's black but without a hood, and Harry's an olive green that went well with his eyes. Green would also serve to demonstrate that he didn't feel Slytherin was automatically evil, that therefore Draco was not inherently a criminal. It had been a long time since he'd worn robes like this, and Harry found himself scratching at his neck, where the woollen material itched.
They Flooed to the Minstry main entrance level. Harry was keeping Draco's wand this time in the pocket of his robes, because he couldn't run the risk of Kingsley finding out about Draco's access to magic. That could jeopardize everything. He also was holding Draco's arm, as if he were escorting a prisoner, which in the Ministry's mind was exactly what he was doing. Draco kept his head down as they exited the Floo station and headed for the lifts, but Harry kept his head held high, glaring at anyone who stopped to stare at them. It was as good a time as any to pretend that he was an Auror already, that this was just standard procedure. Nothing to see here, folks.
"Hello, Harry Potter," one woman, somebody Harry didn't even recognise, said as she passed by them, flashing Harry a brilliant smile; she was younger than a lot of the wizards and witches here, a secretary or personal assistant, perhaps. That seemed to open a floodgate; soon everyone was murmuring a greeting to him, giving him nods, smiles, even a thumbs up. Harry's cheeks burned. This was going to be the rest of his life, he reckoned, being a celebrity. He wondered if they would be so friendly once they found out what he was up to. Or the fact he was gay.
In the lift they were forced to stand next to a couple of Aurors, who blinked at Draco in surprise. The elder wizard, his long hair streaked with grey, glanced at Harry incredulously. "I thought that one was supposed to be in Azkaban."
Beside him, Harry felt Draco tensing up. He forced himself to remain calm. "Shacklebolt authorized me--we're trying an experimental new method for rehabilitation. We're heading to see him right now, in fact." It was the truth, for the most part. But Harry wondered what ripples in the department this would cause.
The wizard looked at him doubtfully, but then nodded as they reached the top floor. "I suppose it's one way to solve the overcrowding." They all exited the lift, and Harry pulled Draco towards Kingsley's office, feeling the weight of their stares all the way. That had been uncomfortably close. Draco's face was pale with fear, lips pressed tightly together, eyes down. He was standing so stooped, he looked like an old man.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief once they reached Kingsley's office, hurrying into the reception area and closing the door behind them. Percy Weasley was seated at a desk scribbling out inter-office memos which zoomed through the air ducts to deliver messages, his face a mask of concentration. When he spotted Harry, he frowned. "Ron's a bit pissed at you, Harry."
So Hermione had said. Harry gave a shrug, and tried not to let the idea of Ron being pissed at him sting. "Hermione told me. I gather he doesn't agree with what I'm doing here." He gave a nod in Draco's direction, afraid to glance at him.
Percy was staring at Draco, and Harry forced himself to look; Draco's eyes were still on the floor. Percy's voice was thin. "I don't agree either. I think he belongs in Azkaban." He stared a moment more, but Draco gave no sign of acknowledging him, or even moving. He scarcely seemed to breathe. Percy gave a shrug of his own. "Mr. Shacklebolt's expecting you. I'll let him know you're here." He stood and knocked on the back door leading to the Minister's office.
Harry held back from speaking to Percy further; even though Percy had finally joined the better side, there were still a lot of things they would never see eye to eye on. He followed Percy's lead, encouraging Draco to stay beside him, as they entered the plush office. Percy cleared his breath; Kingsley looked up from a letter he'd been writing and nodding, granting Harry a little smile. "Good to see you. Sit down, please, both of you." He nodded to Percy. "Make sure we're not disturbed." Percy quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
As they both took their seat, Harry could hear Draco making a small exhale of relief. They were here, at least. Draco nudged him, handing Harry his folder with a copy of his account of Azkaban. Harry stood to present it to Kingsley as the man came over to join them, sitting in a sturdy-looking Ottoman. "Draco's account of his time at Azkaban," Harry said by way of explanation.
Kingsley took the folder but did not open it, setting it on the small table in front of them. He studied Draco for a moment, frowning. "Head up, Draco Malfoy. You don't want to look guilty in front of the Wizengamot, or afraid. Put your shoulders back. Make eye contact."
Draco flushed, but obeyed, and the look he gave Kingsley was wary but respectful. There was still an air of defeat around Draco, Harry noticed, but at least he wasn't hiding now. He looked more ready to face whatever challenges came. "Better?" Draco only just managed to avoid sneering.
"Watch the tone. Yes, it's better." Kingsley steepled his fingers, regarding the two of them. "So? How has it been going, Harry? Do you think he's ready yet?"
Harry glanced over at Draco, thinking about their walk up here. "Not quite. But I think he will be in two weeks." He nodded to Kingsley. "With your help, of course."
Kingsley returned the nod, his manner serious, businesslike. He looked closely at Harry. "So has your conduct with each other been entirely professional?" There was a note to his voice that Harry didn't like. He felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise.
"What kind of question is that?" Harry answered, trying to keep his voice calm. Kingsley should know better than to ask personal things. He should know from their Order days how much Harry valued his privacy.
But Kingsley would not be deterred. "So is that a no? Where has Mr. Malfoy been sleeping?"
Though the question rankled Harry, it was actually Draco who lost his temper first. "That's nobody's business but my own!"
Kingsley half rose out of his chair, pinning Draco with a pointed finger and a flash of his dark brown eyes. "Ah, but you're wrong there, Mr. Malfoy. The Wizengamot is going to consider everything about you to be their business. Including where you sleep, and the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter. You can bet your bloody Mark on it. They'll go there. That's why I'm asking first--because if the two of you reply like that, then I might as well just take you back to Azkaban today." Kingsley's voice held no malice, no anger. But his gaze was sharp and calculating. Draco flushed and looked down again.
Sitting back down again, Kingsley sighed and looked back to Harry. "I warned you. I warned you to be careful of him." He rubbed the back of his head, looking suddenly weary. "McGonagall mentioned that the two of you visited her a few days ago. She said you'd grown quite close." He looked at the two of them, tapping the arms of his chair with his fingers. "So let me just cut straight to it. Are the two of you sleeping together?"
Harry glanced at Draco, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. But Harry knew they'd use Veritaserum on Draco, and probably on himself as well this time. He nodded to Kingsley. "We are. And actually I'd say it's been beneficial." For both of them, but he wasn't going to go into that.
He was not surprised to see that Kingsley did not look pleased at the answer. "You do realise this is going to jeopardize your credibility in this case. That was a stupid thing to do, Harry. I hope it doesn't cost you both dearly."
A horrible weight pressed down in Harry's gut, making him feel ill. He'd known it probably wasn't a good idea . . . but Draco had needed him. He'd needed Draco as well, when all things came down to it. And now they were going to be punished? For this?
He was trying to think of a response, when Draco began speaking. "Mr. Shacklebolt, Sir. I know the Healers at St. Mungo's and probably any adult I could have talked to wouldn't have begun to understand what I went through, and no amount of talking was going to help me. Believe me. What Harry offered--what I accepted--helped me more than any person in my life ever has. I asked for it. I asked to sleep with him for the physical comfort, and yes, I asked for the sex. Because I felt broken that way. And I don't feel broken any longer. So if that's not the correct thing to do and if we're going to be punished for it, then there's no justice at all in the Ministry and I was doomed from the start anyway. I'm not going to be sorry for it."
Harry blinked at the amount of emotion in Draco's voice, the anger, the hurt, and yet the total calm conviction. He sounded courageous. It was a speech on Harry's behalf, Harry realised, and Draco was actually trying to protect him, with no sign of self preservation, no cowardice, and no blame. Harry stared in Draco in rapt fascination. Draco really had changed. Hermione would die of shock if she'd heard him just now. I really do love you. And in that moment he knew it was all worth it, no matter what happened.
There was no way he could let Kingsley return an attack on Draco after saying like that, Harry decided. So he added, "If they don't like my methods and they think it invalidates everything, then they can just send me to Azkaban with him. Because I'm not letting him go back to that alone."
Kingsley stared at the two of them for a long moment, studying them. He gave a wry smile. "By Merlin, there may be hope for the two of you yet." He was silent a moment longer, glancing down at Draco's account, flipping briefly through it. He gave Draco another hard look. "Perhaps I can help you build something out of this. But I need to know everything. Everything you did for Voldemort, any crime you may have committed, any action which might come out in the Veritaserum. Tell me what you're guilty of."
"Everything I'm guilty of," Draco murmured back, in a sardonic tone, laced with pain. He gave a laugh that held no mirth at all. "Well let me see . . ." He smiled, but the smile was even more painful than the tone had been. He looked like he was ready to cry. "I'll have to fill another journal. But for now, I guess I should start with the time my father introduced me to V-Voldemort, and Voldemort gave me a job, one that I had to do, or he'd kill both my parents. I had to kill Dumbledore." He glanced at Kingsley. "I failed, obviously--I couldn't do it. Snape did it."
"And then we learned it was on Dumbledore's orders, because he was already dying," Kingsley said with a nod. "Go on."
Draco chewed his lip. "Well I made two attempts that year, which did almost kill two other people--Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. They weren't the targets, but they did suffer the consequence--a cursed necklace, and poison. And I fixed the old wardrobe in the Room of Requirement and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts."
"Those are more serious charges," Kingsley told him, which of course was not really news to either Harry or Draco.
"He was under coercion!" Harry broke in. "It may not be the Imperius, but threatening his parents? That's got to have some weight in any court."
Kingsley scratched at his head. "It'll have some weight, yes. But they're not going to be pleased about the fact Draco basically betrayed the entire school." He nodded at Draco. "Go on. So after that night?"
Draco swallowed. "V-Voldemort moved into the Manor, and held all his meetings there, and kept any prisoners he captured there as well. I h-had to do whatever he said; he was very displeased with me, my father, and my mother. He punished me with the Cruciatus in front of the other Death Eaters, for . . . a pretty long time. He punished my fathers, but not in front of me. I don't know how. I don't want to know how. He made me accompany the other Death Eaters on their raids of Muggle houses. I didn't actually do anything to them. But I watched. Any action against him or the other Death Eaters, and I know I would have been killed. I helped feed prisoners, fetched things, was asked for information--mostly about Harry, or Hogwarts. I gave as little as I dared get away with."
"And at Hogwarts this past year? While Death Eaters ruled the school?" Harry had to admit, Kingsley was ruthless in his pursuit of information.
"Did I case Unforgiveables as instructed by the Carrows? Yes, I did. Never the big one--never the death spell. But I knew how to cast the others, and several other spells that people would consider dark." Draco glared at Kingsley. "As could every other student in Slytherin and a fair number of Ravelclaws and Hufflepuffs. I think only the Gryffindors were stubborn and heroic enough to refuse. And then of course we were made to use the Cruciatus on them." That look of fear had returned to Draco's face, and Harry realised that even if he did return to Hogwarts, he would still have many enemies.
Kingsley nodded again--after all, this was probably again not news to him, because he had to have talked to McGonagall before about how the last school year had been like, what the Carrows had made their students do. And it wasn't like they were arresting Ravenclaw students for failing to stand up against very frightening Death Eaters. "Anything else? The last battle?"
Draco glanced at Harry. "The last battle, I just wanted to hide, and protect myself and my friends Goyle and Crabbe. I chose the Room of Requirement because I was familiar with it. I reckon I should have anticipated Harry using the room as well--but I thought he'd be out there, battling like the rest of them."
"Draco never attacked anyone in the last battle--and you can ask Ron and Hermione about that as well. In fact, he saved Ron's life, by knocking Crabbe's hand away when he was trying to kill Ron." When it came down to it, pretty much all of Draco's crimes had been coerced in some way--with the possible exception of the wardrobe. In the end, it might come down to a decreased sentence for that crime alone.
And even that small sentence could destroy Draco. Harry fought the urge to sit closer and touch him. Not without me, he thought with heated anxiety. Wherever Draco ended up, he was not going to be alone.
The questions had stopped, and so Harry reckoned that the grilling was over. Kingsley was writing a few notes on a pad of paper with his quill, studying the two of them. "This is going to be a very interesting, trial, I can just tell," he said, and Harry couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny, or if he just didn't know what to do with the two of them. Draco snorted, rubbing his face tiredly. Kingsley stood and crooked a finger at Harry. "I need a word with you. In private."
That didn't sound good. Harry glanced at Draco worriedly, but Draco was having a hard enough time of this, he could see; he was staring down at his hands, which were shaking. Harry sighed and followed Kingsley over to the far corner of the room. Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder, keeping his voice low. "Harry . . . I should have been more direct with you in my warnings about Draco, earlier. I know you wanted to rescue him. I know what you saw in the cell must have . . ." He shook his head. "It must have had a profound effect on you. I actually could see this coming--well to be truthful, Lupin did, some time ago. He worried about you, how much you denied yourself anything, how you seemed to latch onto fantasies . . . I just want you to be certain, this time, that it's not just a fantasy. You don't have to be a hero any longer. You don't have to be this personally involved. What you've done here has been wonderful. It truly has. But do you really want to be with . . ." Kingsley shook his head. "A Malfoy?"
Harry bit his cheek, because he knew that Kingsley was only trying to help him, and Kingsley was one of the good wizards, was going to help the wizarding world. But listening to him at the moment, he really wanted to scream. He said in a low growl, "Warning noted, Minister. But I was damned to go along with the persecution of the Muggle-born. Or the House elves. Or goblins, for that matter. And I'll be damned if I care what anybody thinks if I want to be friends with a pureblood, ex-Death Eater Malfoy." He spun on his heel and walked back over to Draco, certain that Draco had to have at least heard that last bit. He was furious.
Draco was looking down, his expression shuttered--that blank, defensive expression he'd worn at St. Mungo's, Harry realised with a pang. He was more than furious. He was livid. Kingsley had to see that; Harry could feel his blood pounding in his veins. But Kingsley had one last thing to say to them. "We'll meet again, before you go before the Wizengamot--I want to coach Draco a little on his mannerisms, how he should address the members. I also want him to write what he told me today, all crimes committed, in detail." He shook his head. "And both of you, think about what it will mean, the two of you being perceived as--as--as partners. Think about it; you're a hero, Harry; Draco's considered to be a villain. They're going to think he seduced you." Something about the way he said it implied that he thought it entirely likely himself. The pictures on the walls started to shake.
"Let's go," Draco said in a low voice, sensing Harry's fury, perhaps. Harry let himself be gently pulled towards the door, because hexing the Minister would probably not do their case a lot of good. When they passed by Percy, he threw such a smouldering glare that Percy turned white.
"I'll Owl you as to Mr. Shackbolt's availability next week," Percy said timidly.
Harry took the lead then, taking Draco by the arm and storming out, taking them both in a brisk walk back to the Floo stations without another by-your-leave. His glare apparently worked in keeping people back, as they were not accosted again, but given extra space.
"Malfoy--" Harry remembered just in time that the Floo Network address would have changed. Draco rubbed his arm. It settled the flames inside of him, just a little. "Potter Manor," he ground out.
Draco clung to him as they returned home.
***
Chapter Twenty-Eight
***
Author: Juwel (juweldom@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Rating: Adult (NC-17)
Catetories: romance, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: SPOILERS for DH, compliant with DH except for the epilogue. Warnings for rape (early chapters), submission and domination, and suicidal tendencies.
Archive: just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
Summary: The war is over, and the Death Eaters must do hard time in Azkaban. Draco must vanquish his worst enemy; his own fear.
Notes: Thanks to bdtinkerpot for the beta read! We're nearing the end of this monster fic--I'm thinking only about 3 or 4 more chapters to go.
4368 words this chapter
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26
******
The minute after they returned to the Manor, Harry was pulling Draco against him, needing to touch him, needing the taste of him, the smell, everything. Two weeks. It was too damned short, and it felt like time was slipping away from them, second by second. He closed his mouth over Draco's, sucking on Draco's lip, arms around him as the two of them backed towards the staircase, trying to make it to the bedroom.
Harry didn't want to wait that long.
Draco seemed just as desperate for touch; he was pulling at Harry's shirt, lifting it over Harry's head, undulating up against him as if he were on fire and Harry was cool water to quench him. They didn't need to talk about Hogwarts, not yet -- it had taken a toll on both of them to go there, and they both knew it. Draco had silently mourned Snape during the walk back, and Harry had shared in that mourning, and remembering all the others who had fallen in the conflict. Now Harry just wanted. Needed Draco.
Sucking at Harry's tongue, Draco moaned, hands working Harry's fly open. Harry shoved Draco back up against a wall near the staircase, his own hands busy trying to free Draco from his suit jacket, his shirt -- too many damned buttons. He growled in frustration. With a flick of his wrist, Draco had his wand in hand, and then the buttons were unbuttoning themselves, clothes neatly sliding off of him and folding themselves on the first step. Neat trick, Harry thought.
Meanwhile, Harry had manually shoved his own jeans down, so with Draco naked and him mostly so, Harry manoeuvred one of Draco's legs to rest on his hip, letting Draco's back lean against the wall. That way he could reach down behind Draco, parting his arsecheeks with his fingers to tease Draco's hole, rubbing around it in little circles as their tongues duelled for control of the kiss. "Want to fuck you . . . right here . . . against this wall," Harry said between kisses. Draco moaned and nodded, bucking back against his fingers.
Spit wasn't going to quite do it for this position, so Harry used his own wand to summon the lube, pouring just enough over his fingers to coat Draco's puckered entrance and Harry's cock. Then he let both wand and lube fall to the floor, using both hands to lift Draco up, legs draped around him, wall half supporting as Harry slid his cock in, letting Draco's weight take care of the rest. Draco cried out softly, muscles in his legs flexing hard, arse muscles clenching tight around Harry so that he had to stop for a moment, afraid to hurt Draco.
"Oh Merlin -- please! Yes!" Draco bit down on the side of Harry's neck, arms holding him tight, fingers clawing into his back. The movement caused Harry to slide a little further inside. He groaned, feeling his legs tremble, and thankful that Draco didn't weigh too much.
Harry ended up grasping Draco under each leg, lifting him so that he could thrust home again, and then they were fucking, Draco holding tight to him, crying out as Harry impaled him over and over. Harry's legs were quivering with the strain, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the feel of Draco pressed up tight against him, their mouths exchanging clumsy kisses.
Not surprising then, with their hands busy just holding their position, that Harry came first, shuddering as he spilled his come deep inside. His hands lost their grip and Draco slid down as Harry pulled out, holding onto Harry until his feet could find their balance on the floor. Draco looked content, even though he hadn't come yet.
Harry looked down at Draco's turgid cock and knew what he wanted next. He dropped to his knees, and the wall proved useful once again, as Draco braced himself against it, looking down at Harry with eyes stone grey with lust. Harry smiled, a wicked smile, giving Draco's cock a slow stroke with his hand. Draco's eyelashes fluttered.
"Please," Draco whispered, but didn't move, panting softly.
He could be cruel, Harry thought, since he'd already come; he could torment the living daylights out of Draco. With that thought in mind, he ran the tip of his tongue around the head of Draco's cock, swirling around, flicking, teasing him. Draco let out a strangled moan. "Please, oh Merlin's sake, Harry! Please more," Draco begged, pounding the palm of his hand against the wall in frustration.
God, the sight of him made Harry crazy. If he kept this up, he'd be hard enough to fuck Draco again before long. But he was tired; he knew Draco was also, even if he couldn't feel it at the moment. So Harry decided to be merciful, swallowing Draco down until he was just at the gag reflex, nose pressed almost to the blond curling hairs. Draco groaned, trembling. Harry held onto Draco's hips and sucked him for all his worth, taking him down over and over, until he felt the first spurt of come on the back of his throat, as Draco emitted a high-pitched whine. Harry drank his come eagerly, and then stood up to help support Draco, who looked ready to collapse.
"Can we just Apparate to the bedroom?" Draco asked breathlessly, clinging to Harry.
Harry chuckled. "Don’t' know if I have the mental strength for that right now. Come on--it's just up the stairs." He slid an arm around Draco's waist, and together they made their way up, Harry kicking his jeans off on the first step to leave them lying there. They collapsed into bed, and soon were fast asleep.
***
The next couple of days were spent in a flurry of activity, preparing for the meeting with Kingsley. Draco finished up his account of his time spent in Azkaban, and through an exchange of owls, Hermione agreed that she could testify towards Draco's changed behaviour at the trial. She also updated Harry about Ron and Ginny. Ron was confounded by the plan to help Draco, while Ginny had been strangely silent about it. Harry knew Ginny was a smart girl. He wondered if she'd figured things out.
Hermione warned Harry that he should expect either a visit or an owl from Ron soon.
For this appointment, Harry and Draco both wore robes, Draco's black but without a hood, and Harry's an olive green that went well with his eyes. Green would also serve to demonstrate that he didn't feel Slytherin was automatically evil, that therefore Draco was not inherently a criminal. It had been a long time since he'd worn robes like this, and Harry found himself scratching at his neck, where the woollen material itched.
They Flooed to the Minstry main entrance level. Harry was keeping Draco's wand this time in the pocket of his robes, because he couldn't run the risk of Kingsley finding out about Draco's access to magic. That could jeopardize everything. He also was holding Draco's arm, as if he were escorting a prisoner, which in the Ministry's mind was exactly what he was doing. Draco kept his head down as they exited the Floo station and headed for the lifts, but Harry kept his head held high, glaring at anyone who stopped to stare at them. It was as good a time as any to pretend that he was an Auror already, that this was just standard procedure. Nothing to see here, folks.
"Hello, Harry Potter," one woman, somebody Harry didn't even recognise, said as she passed by them, flashing Harry a brilliant smile; she was younger than a lot of the wizards and witches here, a secretary or personal assistant, perhaps. That seemed to open a floodgate; soon everyone was murmuring a greeting to him, giving him nods, smiles, even a thumbs up. Harry's cheeks burned. This was going to be the rest of his life, he reckoned, being a celebrity. He wondered if they would be so friendly once they found out what he was up to. Or the fact he was gay.
In the lift they were forced to stand next to a couple of Aurors, who blinked at Draco in surprise. The elder wizard, his long hair streaked with grey, glanced at Harry incredulously. "I thought that one was supposed to be in Azkaban."
Beside him, Harry felt Draco tensing up. He forced himself to remain calm. "Shacklebolt authorized me--we're trying an experimental new method for rehabilitation. We're heading to see him right now, in fact." It was the truth, for the most part. But Harry wondered what ripples in the department this would cause.
The wizard looked at him doubtfully, but then nodded as they reached the top floor. "I suppose it's one way to solve the overcrowding." They all exited the lift, and Harry pulled Draco towards Kingsley's office, feeling the weight of their stares all the way. That had been uncomfortably close. Draco's face was pale with fear, lips pressed tightly together, eyes down. He was standing so stooped, he looked like an old man.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief once they reached Kingsley's office, hurrying into the reception area and closing the door behind them. Percy Weasley was seated at a desk scribbling out inter-office memos which zoomed through the air ducts to deliver messages, his face a mask of concentration. When he spotted Harry, he frowned. "Ron's a bit pissed at you, Harry."
So Hermione had said. Harry gave a shrug, and tried not to let the idea of Ron being pissed at him sting. "Hermione told me. I gather he doesn't agree with what I'm doing here." He gave a nod in Draco's direction, afraid to glance at him.
Percy was staring at Draco, and Harry forced himself to look; Draco's eyes were still on the floor. Percy's voice was thin. "I don't agree either. I think he belongs in Azkaban." He stared a moment more, but Draco gave no sign of acknowledging him, or even moving. He scarcely seemed to breathe. Percy gave a shrug of his own. "Mr. Shacklebolt's expecting you. I'll let him know you're here." He stood and knocked on the back door leading to the Minister's office.
Harry held back from speaking to Percy further; even though Percy had finally joined the better side, there were still a lot of things they would never see eye to eye on. He followed Percy's lead, encouraging Draco to stay beside him, as they entered the plush office. Percy cleared his breath; Kingsley looked up from a letter he'd been writing and nodding, granting Harry a little smile. "Good to see you. Sit down, please, both of you." He nodded to Percy. "Make sure we're not disturbed." Percy quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
As they both took their seat, Harry could hear Draco making a small exhale of relief. They were here, at least. Draco nudged him, handing Harry his folder with a copy of his account of Azkaban. Harry stood to present it to Kingsley as the man came over to join them, sitting in a sturdy-looking Ottoman. "Draco's account of his time at Azkaban," Harry said by way of explanation.
Kingsley took the folder but did not open it, setting it on the small table in front of them. He studied Draco for a moment, frowning. "Head up, Draco Malfoy. You don't want to look guilty in front of the Wizengamot, or afraid. Put your shoulders back. Make eye contact."
Draco flushed, but obeyed, and the look he gave Kingsley was wary but respectful. There was still an air of defeat around Draco, Harry noticed, but at least he wasn't hiding now. He looked more ready to face whatever challenges came. "Better?" Draco only just managed to avoid sneering.
"Watch the tone. Yes, it's better." Kingsley steepled his fingers, regarding the two of them. "So? How has it been going, Harry? Do you think he's ready yet?"
Harry glanced over at Draco, thinking about their walk up here. "Not quite. But I think he will be in two weeks." He nodded to Kingsley. "With your help, of course."
Kingsley returned the nod, his manner serious, businesslike. He looked closely at Harry. "So has your conduct with each other been entirely professional?" There was a note to his voice that Harry didn't like. He felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise.
"What kind of question is that?" Harry answered, trying to keep his voice calm. Kingsley should know better than to ask personal things. He should know from their Order days how much Harry valued his privacy.
But Kingsley would not be deterred. "So is that a no? Where has Mr. Malfoy been sleeping?"
Though the question rankled Harry, it was actually Draco who lost his temper first. "That's nobody's business but my own!"
Kingsley half rose out of his chair, pinning Draco with a pointed finger and a flash of his dark brown eyes. "Ah, but you're wrong there, Mr. Malfoy. The Wizengamot is going to consider everything about you to be their business. Including where you sleep, and the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter. You can bet your bloody Mark on it. They'll go there. That's why I'm asking first--because if the two of you reply like that, then I might as well just take you back to Azkaban today." Kingsley's voice held no malice, no anger. But his gaze was sharp and calculating. Draco flushed and looked down again.
Sitting back down again, Kingsley sighed and looked back to Harry. "I warned you. I warned you to be careful of him." He rubbed the back of his head, looking suddenly weary. "McGonagall mentioned that the two of you visited her a few days ago. She said you'd grown quite close." He looked at the two of them, tapping the arms of his chair with his fingers. "So let me just cut straight to it. Are the two of you sleeping together?"
Harry glanced at Draco, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. But Harry knew they'd use Veritaserum on Draco, and probably on himself as well this time. He nodded to Kingsley. "We are. And actually I'd say it's been beneficial." For both of them, but he wasn't going to go into that.
He was not surprised to see that Kingsley did not look pleased at the answer. "You do realise this is going to jeopardize your credibility in this case. That was a stupid thing to do, Harry. I hope it doesn't cost you both dearly."
A horrible weight pressed down in Harry's gut, making him feel ill. He'd known it probably wasn't a good idea . . . but Draco had needed him. He'd needed Draco as well, when all things came down to it. And now they were going to be punished? For this?
He was trying to think of a response, when Draco began speaking. "Mr. Shacklebolt, Sir. I know the Healers at St. Mungo's and probably any adult I could have talked to wouldn't have begun to understand what I went through, and no amount of talking was going to help me. Believe me. What Harry offered--what I accepted--helped me more than any person in my life ever has. I asked for it. I asked to sleep with him for the physical comfort, and yes, I asked for the sex. Because I felt broken that way. And I don't feel broken any longer. So if that's not the correct thing to do and if we're going to be punished for it, then there's no justice at all in the Ministry and I was doomed from the start anyway. I'm not going to be sorry for it."
Harry blinked at the amount of emotion in Draco's voice, the anger, the hurt, and yet the total calm conviction. He sounded courageous. It was a speech on Harry's behalf, Harry realised, and Draco was actually trying to protect him, with no sign of self preservation, no cowardice, and no blame. Harry stared in Draco in rapt fascination. Draco really had changed. Hermione would die of shock if she'd heard him just now. I really do love you. And in that moment he knew it was all worth it, no matter what happened.
There was no way he could let Kingsley return an attack on Draco after saying like that, Harry decided. So he added, "If they don't like my methods and they think it invalidates everything, then they can just send me to Azkaban with him. Because I'm not letting him go back to that alone."
Kingsley stared at the two of them for a long moment, studying them. He gave a wry smile. "By Merlin, there may be hope for the two of you yet." He was silent a moment longer, glancing down at Draco's account, flipping briefly through it. He gave Draco another hard look. "Perhaps I can help you build something out of this. But I need to know everything. Everything you did for Voldemort, any crime you may have committed, any action which might come out in the Veritaserum. Tell me what you're guilty of."
"Everything I'm guilty of," Draco murmured back, in a sardonic tone, laced with pain. He gave a laugh that held no mirth at all. "Well let me see . . ." He smiled, but the smile was even more painful than the tone had been. He looked like he was ready to cry. "I'll have to fill another journal. But for now, I guess I should start with the time my father introduced me to V-Voldemort, and Voldemort gave me a job, one that I had to do, or he'd kill both my parents. I had to kill Dumbledore." He glanced at Kingsley. "I failed, obviously--I couldn't do it. Snape did it."
"And then we learned it was on Dumbledore's orders, because he was already dying," Kingsley said with a nod. "Go on."
Draco chewed his lip. "Well I made two attempts that year, which did almost kill two other people--Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. They weren't the targets, but they did suffer the consequence--a cursed necklace, and poison. And I fixed the old wardrobe in the Room of Requirement and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts."
"Those are more serious charges," Kingsley told him, which of course was not really news to either Harry or Draco.
"He was under coercion!" Harry broke in. "It may not be the Imperius, but threatening his parents? That's got to have some weight in any court."
Kingsley scratched at his head. "It'll have some weight, yes. But they're not going to be pleased about the fact Draco basically betrayed the entire school." He nodded at Draco. "Go on. So after that night?"
Draco swallowed. "V-Voldemort moved into the Manor, and held all his meetings there, and kept any prisoners he captured there as well. I h-had to do whatever he said; he was very displeased with me, my father, and my mother. He punished me with the Cruciatus in front of the other Death Eaters, for . . . a pretty long time. He punished my fathers, but not in front of me. I don't know how. I don't want to know how. He made me accompany the other Death Eaters on their raids of Muggle houses. I didn't actually do anything to them. But I watched. Any action against him or the other Death Eaters, and I know I would have been killed. I helped feed prisoners, fetched things, was asked for information--mostly about Harry, or Hogwarts. I gave as little as I dared get away with."
"And at Hogwarts this past year? While Death Eaters ruled the school?" Harry had to admit, Kingsley was ruthless in his pursuit of information.
"Did I case Unforgiveables as instructed by the Carrows? Yes, I did. Never the big one--never the death spell. But I knew how to cast the others, and several other spells that people would consider dark." Draco glared at Kingsley. "As could every other student in Slytherin and a fair number of Ravelclaws and Hufflepuffs. I think only the Gryffindors were stubborn and heroic enough to refuse. And then of course we were made to use the Cruciatus on them." That look of fear had returned to Draco's face, and Harry realised that even if he did return to Hogwarts, he would still have many enemies.
Kingsley nodded again--after all, this was probably again not news to him, because he had to have talked to McGonagall before about how the last school year had been like, what the Carrows had made their students do. And it wasn't like they were arresting Ravenclaw students for failing to stand up against very frightening Death Eaters. "Anything else? The last battle?"
Draco glanced at Harry. "The last battle, I just wanted to hide, and protect myself and my friends Goyle and Crabbe. I chose the Room of Requirement because I was familiar with it. I reckon I should have anticipated Harry using the room as well--but I thought he'd be out there, battling like the rest of them."
"Draco never attacked anyone in the last battle--and you can ask Ron and Hermione about that as well. In fact, he saved Ron's life, by knocking Crabbe's hand away when he was trying to kill Ron." When it came down to it, pretty much all of Draco's crimes had been coerced in some way--with the possible exception of the wardrobe. In the end, it might come down to a decreased sentence for that crime alone.
And even that small sentence could destroy Draco. Harry fought the urge to sit closer and touch him. Not without me, he thought with heated anxiety. Wherever Draco ended up, he was not going to be alone.
The questions had stopped, and so Harry reckoned that the grilling was over. Kingsley was writing a few notes on a pad of paper with his quill, studying the two of them. "This is going to be a very interesting, trial, I can just tell," he said, and Harry couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny, or if he just didn't know what to do with the two of them. Draco snorted, rubbing his face tiredly. Kingsley stood and crooked a finger at Harry. "I need a word with you. In private."
That didn't sound good. Harry glanced at Draco worriedly, but Draco was having a hard enough time of this, he could see; he was staring down at his hands, which were shaking. Harry sighed and followed Kingsley over to the far corner of the room. Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder, keeping his voice low. "Harry . . . I should have been more direct with you in my warnings about Draco, earlier. I know you wanted to rescue him. I know what you saw in the cell must have . . ." He shook his head. "It must have had a profound effect on you. I actually could see this coming--well to be truthful, Lupin did, some time ago. He worried about you, how much you denied yourself anything, how you seemed to latch onto fantasies . . . I just want you to be certain, this time, that it's not just a fantasy. You don't have to be a hero any longer. You don't have to be this personally involved. What you've done here has been wonderful. It truly has. But do you really want to be with . . ." Kingsley shook his head. "A Malfoy?"
Harry bit his cheek, because he knew that Kingsley was only trying to help him, and Kingsley was one of the good wizards, was going to help the wizarding world. But listening to him at the moment, he really wanted to scream. He said in a low growl, "Warning noted, Minister. But I was damned to go along with the persecution of the Muggle-born. Or the House elves. Or goblins, for that matter. And I'll be damned if I care what anybody thinks if I want to be friends with a pureblood, ex-Death Eater Malfoy." He spun on his heel and walked back over to Draco, certain that Draco had to have at least heard that last bit. He was furious.
Draco was looking down, his expression shuttered--that blank, defensive expression he'd worn at St. Mungo's, Harry realised with a pang. He was more than furious. He was livid. Kingsley had to see that; Harry could feel his blood pounding in his veins. But Kingsley had one last thing to say to them. "We'll meet again, before you go before the Wizengamot--I want to coach Draco a little on his mannerisms, how he should address the members. I also want him to write what he told me today, all crimes committed, in detail." He shook his head. "And both of you, think about what it will mean, the two of you being perceived as--as--as partners. Think about it; you're a hero, Harry; Draco's considered to be a villain. They're going to think he seduced you." Something about the way he said it implied that he thought it entirely likely himself. The pictures on the walls started to shake.
"Let's go," Draco said in a low voice, sensing Harry's fury, perhaps. Harry let himself be gently pulled towards the door, because hexing the Minister would probably not do their case a lot of good. When they passed by Percy, he threw such a smouldering glare that Percy turned white.
"I'll Owl you as to Mr. Shackbolt's availability next week," Percy said timidly.
Harry took the lead then, taking Draco by the arm and storming out, taking them both in a brisk walk back to the Floo stations without another by-your-leave. His glare apparently worked in keeping people back, as they were not accosted again, but given extra space.
"Malfoy--" Harry remembered just in time that the Floo Network address would have changed. Draco rubbed his arm. It settled the flames inside of him, just a little. "Potter Manor," he ground out.
Draco clung to him as they returned home.
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Chapter Twenty-Eight
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