[Fic] Cold Case 1/2
Title: Cold Case
Author: dawnlett
Recipient: winterdaffodils
Pairing: Harry Potter/ Draco Malfoy
Wordcount: ~16k
Warnings: Uses of the Cruciatus Curse, heavy emotions
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, his world nor his husband belong to me.
Summary: Five years after the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been replaced as Minister for Magic by Minister Cyneric, who is set on re-opening every single closed Death Eater case. Unfortunately, Draco's name is amongst them, assessed with the highest danger rating possible. Not able to live with the sentence given to him, Draco will have to find a way out of the mess the Minister has created for him and Harry…alive.
AO3: COLD CASE
Author's notes: First and foremost, thank you 'T' for the extreme thorough beta and 'S' and 'S' for all the help! Without any of you this would not have been possible. Also thanks to the Mod for her everlasting patience and smarts.
Dear winterdaffodils, I had so much fun writing this, even when neither Harry nor Draco wanted to work with me. I hope you'll like it!
This piece was originally written for hpholiday's Christmas fest and originally posted HERE.
[Cold Case]
The room is a dark, almost mossy shade of green. Torches are lighting only part of the walls, hiding most faces of the attending Wizengamot members in shadows. One of them, an elderly wizard with a long black beard streaked with grey, nervously clears his throat, while a young blond woman on the other side of the room reshuffles a stack of papers for the second time.
"Reopening the case of Draco Abraxas Malfoy." The man sitting at the head of the table taps the file in front of him once with his wand. He is middle-aged, has dark, shoulder length hair tied in a short ponytail on his back and auburn robes. "Aged 22. Currently residing on 147 Chester Square, London with Mister H.J. Potter. Current case status: dismissed." He swishes his wand once to make the papers float into the middle of the room to stay and circle around each other. "Discussing the new evidence in case number 3094, Gylden Bungard has the floor."
The younger blond woman nervously looks around and swallows audibly in the eerie silence of the room. She picks up the stack of parchment in front of her, her hands shaking so badly she has to put it down for a minute to calm herself. "I don’t think we should do this," she tries, glancing at the Head Auror before trying to find the eyes of her fellow members. "I think we’re making a mistake." Her tone is urgent and serious, yet soft enough it could be considered a whisper.
The room stays silent, not one person present daring to voice their opinion openly with the Head Auror in the room. Orders were clear, orders were strict: every single war case would be reopened, starting with anybody suspected of having been fighting on the side of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"And why," the Head Auror starts in a bored tone, "would you think this is a mistake, Miss Bungard?" She can’t see it, but can almost hear the cocked eyebrow in his voice. She knows he thinks she is inexperienced, lucky to have got a job so many wanted, so many who, in his eyes, could’ve done a much better job than herself.
"We shouldn’t forget we’re not just dealing with Mister Malfoy," she says. Her hands start shaking again and she curls them into fists in an attempt to control her nerves. "It was Mister Potter himself who pleaded against the Ministry considering Mister Malfoy’s case." The Head Auror stays quiet, staring at her with what looks to her like a very unimpressed expression. When it seems like he is not going to answer her, she tries to continue, but is interrupted.
"The Ministry does not fear Mister Potter, nor his opinion of us," he says. "Do I make myself clear?" He doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues. "The evidence, Miss Bungard."
Gylden looks down at her papers, defeated, and nods once. "I sent each of you a file with the aforementioned evidence, which you have all read by now. The evidence, derived from sources of the Minister for Magic himself, are primary in source, secondary in documentation." She puts down the file she was holding and points her wand at the others still floating in mid-air. A quick flick of her wand has one of them floating above the others, rotating around its own axis. "As we can see in the first document-"
"We’ve all seen the evidence." The elderly man with the dark beard on the other side of the room stands as he speaks. "And I am sure we can all agree it is of the highest importance this case is handled immediately."
"Ezekiel is right," another man says. He is shorter and somewhat chubby with the nose of a pig. He speaks robustly, so much so that spit regularly flies out with every hard consonant. "The evidence, if in case, valid, is rather disturbing indeed."
A woman, probably around her forties, with long red curls, gets up. "Immediate action is required to ensure the safety of the Wizarding World," she says, her face stern.
"That is assuming the evidence that has been found is valid," Gylden says. "According to-"
"I thought we had established the evidence to be valid enough to be used in the Wizengamot trial of Mister Malfoy already?" Aldrin says sarcastically. "I think we are ready to assign a rating to Mister Malfoy." He looks around the room calmly, a determined look in his eyes.
"Anybody in favour of giving Draco Abraxas Malfoy a five-star rating raise your hands, please."
A set of 48 hands are raised, only Gylden’s and a woman’s she didn’t recognised stay down. Their eyes lock, Gylden’s confused, the woman’s sad.
"Adopted." Aldren’s voice rings through the room. "From this day on, Draco Abraxas Malfoy will be guilty of treason against the Ministry of Magic on the account of Death Eater practises and will from now on be guarded under the five-star danger rating." He swishes his wand, and as the papers rotating in the middle of the room come floating back to him he says: "Gentlemen." The Aurors at the door turn and salute. "Immediate repercussion shall be executed." He then looks around the room one last time. "You are dismissed."
As she leaves the room with the rest of the Wizengamot members, Gylden can’t shake off the feeling of having made a terrible mistake today. Something wasn’t right about all of this. Something was definitely not right.
*
The weather is cold and windy as Harry and Draco make their way over to the front door of their old English home. It’s a beautiful home, Harry has to agree, even though it might just be a little too pompous for him. However, his husband seems to love it and it isn’t the Manor, so Harry is okay with it. Not to mention that the view from their living- and bedroom is absolutely amazing.
As they enter they are greeted by their House Elf, Pip. Pip had joined them in their home roughly a year after Harry and Draco had begun living there. She had been fired by her last owner for being too peppy, which Draco had initially mistaken for the word ‘pippy’. This had resulted in the nickname ‘Pip’. It fit her well, and as she was now officially a ‘rescue elf’, Hermione didn’t seem to oppose, which was a good thing for the overall peace, too.
"Master Draco sir has company," she squeaks nervously as Harry puts his scarf and coat on the peg in their hallway. "They is being in the sitting room. Pip has already been giving them tea, sirs."
"Tell them we’ll be in shortly," Draco says and gives the tiny house-elf a quick pet before she walks back into their sitting room, her steps small and hasty.
Harry looks expectantly at Draco. "Were we expecting anybody?"
Draco shakes his head slowly. "Not that I know of," he says before looking back at Harry. "Did she seem extra nervous, somehow?" He hands Harry his coat and scarf which join Harry’s on the peg.
"Doesn’t she always?" Harry asks and smiles, throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulders. Draco has been a little paranoid ever since the war has ended, and uninvited strangers in their house is not a good sign in his book, Harry knows. "Everything will be fine," he says. He lets his arm fall from Draco’s shoulders and takes his hand. "Come on, let’s see who’s here for us."
As they enter their sitting room, Harry sees a group of roughly eight Aurors sitting and standing around. Harry recognises maybe a couple of them, but the rest look unfamiliar to him. "Can we help you, gentlemen?" he asks. Draco is partly hiding behind him, not so much that it’s noticeable but just enough for him to feel safe enough around a group of men he doesn’t know personally.
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy?" a larger man in dark red robes in the back of the room asks. His black hair is tied back in a short ponytail. Harry recognises him from pictures to be the current Head Auror, but knows nothing else about him.
"Yes?" Draco says insecurely. Harry feels him gripping his hand tighter and squeezes back in reassurance.
The Head Auror moves so swift and unexpected that neither Harry nor Draco have enough time to respond. Harry gets blasted against the far wall of their sitting room as two Aurors corner Draco. A quick spell from the third disarms Draco while a fourth casts a binding spell on Harry’s arms. He screams and a burst of his magic shatters the windows and every single other glass item present in the room. Two more Aurors grab him and hold him down as he watches the Head Auror cast a spell on Draco. A single silvery thread gets shot out of the tip of the Auror’s wand and wraps itself around Draco’s neck. As Draco scrunches his eyes shut tightly, twitching on the floor in pain, the black-haired man unrolls a scroll of parchment.
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy," he begins. "From this day forward you are officially convicted as a former Death Eater and direct threat to our Wizarding Society. Therefore you shall live on, banned from using magic. In case you breach your sentence and the rules which have been laid upon you, you shall be transported to Azkaban for life, immediately."
Harry struggles to get free of the two men still restraining him. "You can’t do this!" he screams. "He was cleared of all charges years ago, you have no right-"
"Spare me your assumptions and accusations," Aldrin says in a bored tone as he lets go of the end of the scroll, which rolls back up. He waves his hand once and the two Aurors let go of Harry’s arms as Aldrin casts a Finite Incantatem. Harry wastes no time, gets up and pulls out his wand. The Head Auror looks at him, annoyance clearly visible on his face.
"Now is not the time for heroes, Mister Potter," he says. "So if you know what’s good for you and your…" he shoots a glance at Draco, "husband," he spits the word out as if it’s something disgusting, "you’ll put your wand away."
Harry is breathing heavily. Anger is soaring through him and as he sees Draco’s unconscious body lying on the ground next to him he is torn between running over to him to make sure he’s okay and ripping out the Head Auror’s throat. He decides on the first, puts his wand away, shoots the Auror a look of pure hatred and rushes over to Draco’s side.
Aldrin chuckles. "See, now that’s a good boy." It comes out in a drawl and even though Harry isn’t looking, he can still hear the smugness present in the man’s voice. He turns to look Aldrin in the eye. "This is not the end of it," he threatens.
"Oh, I don’t doubt it is," Aldrin replies, eyebrow cocked and smug smile visible. He turns and leaves through the front door, the team of Aurors he brought with him following without sparing them as much as a second glance.
*
The Ministry is bustling with life when Harry Apparates inside. The wards crackle around him, protesting against the vile intrusion. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but speaking to the Minister for Magic and setting what has been done straight as soon as possible. People around him give surprised yelps as he so impudently appears in their midst. After all, Apparating within the Ministry or on-or-off Ministry ground has been impossible ever since the demise of Voldemort, and even before that only licenced people could do it.
Harry takes a quick look around, notes the surprised looks and starts walking towards security. The man behind the desk seems very young. His shoulders are hunched in what seems to be almost a permanent shrug, and when Harry approaches him he ducks his head. Harry shoots the lad a dangerous look when he is asked for the registration of his wand and stalks right past him.
When he reaches the lifts they are filled completely with people. However, Harry doesn’t feel like he has time to waste and pulls a man in dark purple robes out of one of them. The man starts to protest, but stops when he sees Harry’s scar.
"Mister Potter," he starts, surprise and shock evident in his voice. The rest of his sentence gets muffled as the doors of the lift violently close on them. An awkward silence hangs in the air as they slowly go down the shaft. Harry cocks his head sideways a couple of times and manages to crack his neck twice. He is angry.
As he stalks towards the Minister’s office a set of two Aurors try to stop him. One of them is older, probably mid thirties, and has an ashen kind of short, blond hair. His robes fit him well and his stance is secure, emitting an aura of authority. The other Auror is smaller, probably only a trainee, has dark brown curly hair and is wearing robes that are at least one size too big on him.
"Halt!" the older of the two calls out as Harry walks right past them. He doesn’t pay the two any attention until he hears the start of the chant for a stunning curse. Harry whirls around, wand at the ready, and blocks the curse without too much trouble.
"Expelliarmus!" he calls out and disarms both of the Aurors facing him at the same time. As he gives them a small salute with their wands, he turns back around and continues his way down to the Minister’s office.
When he enters the oval office the Minister is working at his desk. Harry moves towards it and angrily slams both his hands down onto it.
Unimpressed, the Minister looks Harry straight in the eye, causing Harry to have to swallow away the sudden unexplainable feeling of nausea. "And what can I do for you today, Mister Potter?" he asks.
Harry is fuming now. How dare the man be so calm! "I don’t know what you were thinking," he says, voice raised and nostrils flared, "but you undo what you did right now!"
"Take a seat." The Minister’s calm tone does nothing to ease Harry’s anger and so he refuses. Instead, he raises himself back up, back straight and eyes looking down at the man in front of him.
"If you think you can intimidate me, you are mistaken," the Minister says. "Now what exactly can I help you with?"
Harry gives the man another once over. Minister Cyneric had taken Kingsley’s place after the last elections. Harry has always thought of him as a somewhat peculiar man, and even now the presence of the man has small shivers run down his spine. There is just something off about him, something Harry can’t quite place. It’s almost as if he’d seen the man before somewhere.
"It’s about my husband," Harry says and, when Cyneric doesn’t respond, adds: "Draco Malfoy." Harry takes a deep breath to calm himself down just enough to speak to the Minister in a calm and clear tone. "He was cleared of all charges roughly five years ago. Today, a group of your Aurors came marching in our home with the news that he was once again convicted of Death Eater practices."
Cyneric nods but doesn’t say anything, so Harry continues. "I want this solved. I want the conviction reversed."
"Take a seat, Mister Potter," the Minister repeats while directing his hand at the chair on Harry’s side of the desk. This time Harry obeys, hoping it will at least favor him in getting this problem solved.
Now the Minister stands up and Harry curses inwardly, Auror lesson number one: never give your opponent the idea they are in a more powerful position than you. "You might not be aware," Cyneric starts, "but for the past year or so the Ministry has been going over so-called ‘cold cases’. Cases the last Minister deemed…" Cyneric pauses for a moment. "Unsolvable."
Harry cocks an eyebrow at the man. Draco’s case hadn’t been unsolvable, it had been dismissed.
"Ah," Cyneric continues. "I know what you’re thinking, Mister Potter. Mister Malfoy’s case was indeed not necessarily unsolvable. However..." Harry sees him look him up and down once, giving him the chills. There is just something about this man… "the only reason Mister Malfoy was cleared of all charges was because of lack of substantial proof. Proof that has now been found."
"Okay," Harry says, "then I’d like to see such proof."
"Ah, but here’s the problem with that." Cyneric smiles a toothy grin."You gave up that right when you resigned your position as an Auror, Mister Potter."
*
The house is warm and inviting when Harry comes home. The fires are lit, probably by Pip, and there’s a nice melody playing on the wireless. Harry steps out of the fireplace and makes his way through the sitting room area into the hallway. A soft humming in Latin can be heard from upstairs and Harry sighs in relief; at least the Healer is already working on Draco.
The first thing Harry had done when the Auror squad had left was Floo for Hermione. Draco had been unconscious and, unable to wake him up, Harry had panicked. Hermione had wasted no time and had come over straight away, promising Harry to get in touch with a Healer as fast as she could while Harry Apparated away loudly.
When Harry enters their bedroom the Healer looks up and puts his wand down on one of the bedside tables.
"And?" Harry asks worriedly as he shakes the Healer’s hand. He’s seen the man plenty of time before at St Mungo’s. He is a kind man, around his forties, with dark skin and even darker hair.
"He hasn’t shown any other signs of life yet," Healer August says. Harry chokes, his eyes darting from the limp body of his husband to the Healer and back. "Not to worry, Mister Potter," August smiles and reaches out for him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "His body is in shock. With time and rest he’ll be absolutely fine."
Harry nods. "And the spell?" he asks.
"Only time will tell what the exact effects are." August’s face is grim. Dropping his hand from Harry’s shoulder he picks up his wand and casts a nonverbal spell on Draco. Several areas on his body begin to glow instantly.
August hovers his hand over one of the brighter spots. "The magical currents within his body are moving and weak," he says, proceeding further down, "and they all seem to be aiming directly towards where Mister Malfoy was hit with the curse." He flicks his wand and lifts the spell, making the room dim down instantly. "There is really no telling what the end result will be, I’m afraid, Mister Potter.
As the Healer leaves Harry lets himself fall into the big and comfortable chair next to the bed. He closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing his hands over his tired face.
"Oh Draco…"
*
"How is he doing?" The words have left her mouth before she’s even properly stepped out of the fireplace. She dusts herself off gracefully and hands her cloak to Pip.
"Thank yous Mistress ma’am," Pip squeaks before running off to put the silky garment away.
Narcissa ignores the elf and stares at Harry, who notices for the first time how old she’s really started to look.
"We don’t know," he says and holds up his hand when he sees Narcissa is about to say something. "Let me finish, Mistress Malfoy." Staying calm is hard. Preferably Harry would be slamming a certain Minister and Head Auror against a few walls or more, but as that isn’t going to help his case any, he decided staying calm was the best way to go for both him and Draco. The one person who needs him most right now.
"Healer August was here yesterday and according to his findings, Draco will be fine. We just don’t know in what way yet."
Narcissa raises her chin defiantly, eyes blazing, reminding Harry that she is not only his husband’s caring mother, but also still a Black by blood and Malfoy by marriage. The one Malfoy who stood against Voldemort’s will and spilled his plans to another man, at that.
"And who exactly were the men who did this to my son?" She almost spits the words in disgust. "I have a right to know. Draco-"
"Needs us by his side," Harry interrupts. He sees Narcissa blink rapidly a couple of times, mouth set in a grim line, probably not used to people cutting her off like that. Sitting down in a huff, she crosses her legs ever so elegantly. "Then at least come to the Manor with me," she says, hands folded in her lap. "He’ll have more room there and infinite resources in potions and Healers. We only have the best of the best, of course."
Harry sighs inwardly, he’d been expecting this request. "I’d rather have him stay here with me," he says and quickly adds: "At least for now. But I’ll ask him what he prefers when he wakes."
"If he wakes," Narcissa says quietly.
"When he wakes. I have the fullest confidence in Healer August," Harry answers.
They sit in absolute silence for a while, the only sound the flames crackling in the big, white marble fireplace. Harry tries to imagine how hard it must be for her - husband in Azkaban for life, her son’s life uncertain and her own future unclear - but fails. The only thing he is capable of feeling right now is his worry for Draco and his anger towards the Ministry.
In the end, it is Harry who breaks the quiet. "Have you heard anything from the Ministry yet?" he asks.
Narcissa shakes her head calmly, eyes on an invisible spot on the far end wall, before looking over at Harry. "No. But neither you nor my son had any warning beforehand either, had you?"
Harry doesn’t say anything as the answer to her question is obvious.
"In any way, it would be unnecessary," she continues. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, I’m safely in my family’s chateau in France." A small smile plays on her lips. "I am safe. For now."
Harry nods, but before he can say any more the fireplace starts blazing again and Hermione steps through. At first she sees only Harry and is about the speak until her eyes find Narcissa’s.
Both women stare at each other for a moment, neither party unwilling to break contact before the other one does. Hermione looks pale, fists clenched tightly. It might’ve been years, but she still can’t be in the same room as Narcissa Malfoy, memories of the war and the Manor still fresh on her mind. Narcissa on the other hand looks rather calm, and a bit solemn.
"I should leave," she says as she gets up. Pip immediately comes running in with Narcissa’s cloak. Again not acknowledging the tiny creature, she puts it on and walks towards the fireplace. "Thank you for your time, Harry," she says before disappearing in the flames. "Take good care of my son."
Hermione opens the bag she’s carrying right away, taking out a set of ten books or so. "I’ve been going over and through every document and book I could find considering Wizarding Law," she says. "But there’s nothing we can do to the Ministry. They have every right to go over these so-called ‘cold cases’."
Harry rakes a hand through his hair, making it stand up in some places before shaking his head. "They can’t do this," he protests. "They can’t just re-open old cases because they’re not agreeing with the old Wizagamot’s verdict!"
"And that’s exactly the problem," she says. "Draco was never cleared, nor voted an innocent man. His case was dismissed due to lack of substantial proof from either side." She pauses to let this information sink in. "Harry, his case was never closed."
*
The big clock above the mantelpiece chimes eleven times as Healer August arrives through the Floo. He dusts off his cloak a bit before taking it off and handing it to Pip. Harry closes one of the many Wizarding Law books he has open on the table and sighs.
"Anything so far?" the Healer asks him. By now they’ve turned into questions of formality, as they both know Harry is unable to find anything and probably never will.
Harry shakes his head. "It all seems perfectly legal what they’re doing, Emanuel."
The Healer nods solemnly. "It is what I feared," he says and walks towards the hallway to go up and see Draco. As he passes Harry he stops and softly lays his big hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing once. "It’ll be okay, son."
When Emanuel has left the room Harry sits back down heavily in his chair. It is time to hire somebody with a little more knowledge. Maybe that’ll get them somewhere.
*
"Draco!" Harry jumps up out of his chair as his husband walks, somewhat shakily, into the kitchen. Draco’s hair is a mess and he’s as pale as a ghost but he’s awake and walking - a huge relief to Harry who’d started to fear he might never wake up. Harry walks around the table and engulfs Draco in one of the tightest hugs he’s ever got.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asks after he’s finally let go of Draco.
Draco blinks first a couple of times before swallowing hard and smiling a weak smile with empty, watery eyes. "‘m fine," he says.
Harry’s heart breaks, but as Draco obviously doesn’t want to talk about it now he lets it go. "Can I get Pip to get you anything?" he asks instead, but Draco just shakes his head and sits down at the table, giving the man already sitting there an odd look over.
"Let me introduce myself," the man says as Harry sits back down opposite of him. "My name’s Godwin, attorney Godwin, but you may call me Gregory." He holds out his hand for Draco to shake but when Draco doesn’t move, slides his index finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging nervously at it, before continuing awkwardly. "I have been going over your case for the past few days with Harry here and-"
"Oh," Draco says. "Harry, is it?" He raises his eyebrows curiously at his husband.
Harry bites his tongue and closes his eyes for a second to keep himself calm. Draco’s jealous streak has always been something he finds hard to deal with, but just like Draco’s earlier comment he lets it slide for now.
"And Gregory here thinks we best take another close look at the new evidence the Ministry has suddenly found against you," Harry says.
"Exactly," Gregory adds. "The only way to reverse what has been done is to see if it is indeed valid evidence or not. I heard you were not present at the trial itself?"
Draco shakes his head calmly, still staring the man down.
"Right." Godwin clears his throat. "And were you notified such a trial was in progress at the time?"
Once again Draco doesn’t answer and only raises a single eyebrow.
The attorney looks from Harry to Draco and back before quickly writing something down on the parchment in front of him. "Interesting," he mumbles, mostly to himself, and stares at the wall for a while, lost in thought.
"So, I am assuming here neither of you saw any of the newly found evidence?"
Harry sees Draco roll his eyes, a snide comment probably already on his lips, and cuts in. "We haven’t. We wouldn’t even know what it is they’ve found."
Gregory nods. "Very promising," he says. "You see, if we can somehow prove that the evidence is, in fact, not valid, then they’ll once again have to dismiss the case."
"Ending us right back where we started," Draco says now, leaning in and letting his arms rest on the table in front of him. "We got in this mess in the first place because my case was, apparently..." He glances at Harry, "dismissed. They’ll just reopen it again."
"And that is where you are wrong," Godwin says with a smug smile. "Not only can evidence never be re-used after falsification, the Wizengamot will have to come up with proof for themselves as to not only get Draco’s case dismissed, but to prevent him from being cleared of all charges. Standard procedure." He leans back in his chair.
"All charges?" Draco says, leaning in, interest piqued.
"All charges," Godwin answers.
*
Harry comes walking down the stairs when he hears a loud crash in the sitting room area.
"Draco!" he calls out as he rushes down the stairs, jumps off the the last couple of steps and sprints into the room.
Entering, he finds Draco frozen and dumbfoundedly staring at the remains of a mug of tea on their hard wooden floor.
"What happened?" Harry asks as he walks over to his husband, whips out his wand and vanishes the shards and cold liquid away.
"I just wanted to make it hover," Draco says, voice small, "while grabbing a book." He holds out the book as if to show him he isn’t lying. "And it just fell." He looks back up at Harry now, eyes big and eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "It just fell," he repeats. "Just… fell."
Draco’s breathing quickens as panic rises in his throat. He closes his eyes and Harry sees he is trying to calm himself down but losing the battle with what he imagines must be the memories of what happened with the Aurors. Harry steps closer and wraps his arms around his husband. "It’ll be alright," he chants. "Everything will be alright."
As they sit down for tea later that day, a big tawny owl taps its beak against the window impatiently. Harry sees Draco get up, but stops him with a hand on his arm. "I’ll get it," he says. "It’s probably a letter from Gregory." He opens the windows and a cold breeze comes in, making him shiver. "He told me he would get in touch the moment he’d find something," he says and gives the owl a small treat before quickly closing the window again. "I guess he did." He waves the envelope a couple of times before sitting back down and opening it.
The letter is short and simple, written on a ripped off piece of paper rather than official letter parchment, the handwriting hasty and almost illegible.
"He says there’s something majorly wrong with the evidence," Harry says. "He went to investigate, but ensures us it’s great news and will stop by tomorrow afternoon."
"That’s all?" Draco says, copying Harry’s confusion.
Harry nods and folds the bit of parchment back up. "I guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow."
*
Harry scrunches his brow as he stares at an invisible spot on the wall, fork in mid-air and mashed potatoes slowly falling off it.
"Care to share?" Draco says and puts a forkful of his own mashed potatoes in his mouth.
Harry hums under his breath once before tearing his gaze away from the wall and shaking his head a couple of times. "Just wondering what he could’ve found, ‘s’all," he says while putting his fork back down for a new bite. He pokes away at his vegetables before looking back up at Draco. "Are you sure you don’t have any idea?"
To his amazement Draco slams his fork down on the table, throws the napkin from his lap on his plate and gets up. "I’m done here," he says before storming off.
"Draco!" Harry calls out after him, hastily putting his own napkin down as well and following his husband’s footsteps up into the bedroom. Draco is pacing, hands clenched tightly into fists and face dark.
Harry hovers in the doorway for a while, waiting for Draco to spot him, but is ignored.
"Draco- "
"No," Draco interrupts, turning towards Harry. "You think you’re helping, but you’re really not, you know that?"
Harry opens his mouth to respond but Draco cuts him off before he’s even had the chance to start talking.
"Do you think I know what he possibly could’ve found as evidence against me? Because if I do I might as well confess to the whole thing right now!" he says, angrily throwing his arms up in the air and raking his hands through his hair.
"Draco I wasn’t -" Harry starts.
"YES YOU WERE!" Draco screams. "It’s been like this all day and yesterday since that bloody letter arrived." He huffs disdainfully. "Draco, do you know what this could be? Draco, do you have any idea? Draco, think, what could he have found? Well, I don’t know what it could’ve been, Harry, but obviously you think I do!"
He spreads his arms as if to make a point, knocking over a vase filled with flowers from the dresser in the process. Before either of them can react it has fallen onto the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Draco curses, holds out his hand and falls completely still.
Harry, wand already in hand to fix the vase, realises only a second too late what it was that his husband was trying to do. He walks over to Draco and softly puts his hand on his back. Draco looks pale, almost sickly so, mouth set into a firm grim. Harry opens his mouth to say something and sees Draco clench his open hand back into a fist, turning his head away from him. After giving Draco a reassuring pat on the back, Harry nods once and leaves the room.
As he gets back into the kitchen Pip hurriedly comes up to him. "Is Master Draco sir going to bees okay, sir?" she asks, concern clear in her voice, eyes big and round as she stares up at Harry.
Harry kneels down and pats her on the head. "He’ll be okay," he says as he ruffles her ears. She scrunches up her eyes and lets out a soft giggle. "And Mister Harry Potter sir? Can Pip do anything to makes him feels better?"
"No, that’s quite alright, Pip," Harry says and stands back up. Before he’s out of the room he turns back around. "On second thought," he says and sees Pip already starting to nod, making him smile. The eager house-elf she is, she’s always trying to find ways to make her owners feel at home. Or well, employers, that should be, as Pip is always wearing clothes of the most expensive brands and highest couture, Draco would see to that. Right now she’s wearing a soft yellow and white ruffled dress with a big bow around her neck, tied in front. Harry had laughed the first time Draco had showed it to him, convinced he’d just robbed a doll shop from the eighteen hundreds, but Pip had fallen in love with it at first sight. This meant that, technically, she was a free elf, even when she wasn’t accepting any payment other than pretty dresses, ruffled socks and shoes so polished Harry could almost use them as a mirror.
"I’ll do the dishes tonight." He sees her look at him in confusion. "It’ll give me something to keep me distracted with for now."
*
Harry jumps as the clock strikes midnight. After the dishes he’d laid down on the big sofa in the library and had closed his eyes for just a minute, which had turned out to be closer to a few hours. He blinks and stretches, looking around for Pip or Draco. When neither of them seem to be around he calls for the house-elf.
"Did anybody Floo in while I was sleeping?" he asks her when she pops into the room.
Pip shakes her head, making her ears flop around. "No. Was sir expecting somebody?"
Harry looks back at the clock, checking the time again. It really is midnight. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, trying to think. "I," he starts but pauses and looks back at the elf. "Yes, but it’s okay." He smiles at her. "I’ll be going to bed now, Pip, can you take care of the candles?"
"Of course, Mister Harry Potter sir!" she happily squeaks. "Good night!"
"Good night, Pip."
When Harry enters the bedroom Draco is already in bed with the lights turned off. When he carefully lifts the covers and gets, into the bed Harry feels Draco’s body stiffen next to him. He waits for him to turn and say something, but when nothing happens, Harry decides to leave him be for now.
He places a soft kiss on Draco’s shoulder as he lies down and closes his eyes, deciding he’ll Floo Godwin in the morning.
*
When Harry opens his eyes the next morning he notices that the other half of the bed is already empty. He stretches, tiredly rubs his hands over his face and gets out of bed. Tying his dressing gown on the way down, he hears somebody rummage in the library. He takes a few steps towards the sound before he hears Draco curse loudly. That convinces him it’s probably a better idea to leave the library alone right now and turns to go make them a nice cup of hot tea before trying.
Entering the library, now with a tray containing a big teapot filled with cinnamon-apple tea and two cups, he notices Draco propped up against one of the many bookshelves, reading a big, dusty, leather-bound book. As the light of the morning sun comes in through one of the bigger windows it hits Draco, revealing the odd shimmer that is the spell. Harry notes to himself that, however ironic it might be, it looks rather beautiful.
"Hey," he says as he sits down in front of Draco and hands him one of the cups.
Draco looks up at him and gives Harry a small smile as he accepts the tea. "Hi."
"Wait," Harry says as he sees Draco carefully raise the cup to his lips. Taking out his wand, he casts a soft cooling charm on it, just enough to make it drinkable, getting a soft ‘thank you’ from Draco.
"So what are you reading?" Harry tries, happy that Draco has apparently calmed down enough to not feel the urge to start yelling at him again.
Draco shrugs. "Just some magic things," he says as he pushes the book away from Harry, who reaches over and grabs it anyway. Draco lets his head fall back against the bookcase and closes his eyes with a sigh.
"You make it very hard for me not to strangle you," he mumbles, and Harry laughs softly in response.
However, that laugh quickly disappears as he looks down at the title and reads Squibs and Magic: How, What and Why? by Elina Burstrow. Harry swallows audibly and puts the book back where Draco had pushed it to.
"It’ll be alright," he says softly, and for a moment he isn’t sure if he’s talking to Draco or himself.
Draco doesn’t seem to notice and opens his eyes again. "You think?" he asks and, not waiting for an answer, continues, "I don’t exactly have a lot of faith in your Godwin friend."
Harry takes a sip from his tea before answering. "You just don’t like him," he says. "And you’re not exactly keeping an open mind towards him."
"It’s not him, Harry," Draco says. "Well, maybe a bit." Harry smiles into his cup. "But let’s face it: I might be Harry Potter’s husband, but above anything else I am and will always be a Malfoy in the eyes of the Ministry."
"Draco," Harry begins but hesitates, not sure what to say.
"Let’s not argue. At least not for today," Draco says and Harry nods. "What did he say?"
"He didn’t show," Harry says and, when Draco cocks an eyebrow at him quickly adds, "I was on my way to Floo him when I heard you in here."
"I wonder what kind of excuse he’ll have," Draco muses as he picks his book back up.
"I’m not sure," Harry says and puts his hand on the book’s cover, preventing Draco from opening it. "But I’m sure it’ll be valid." He pushes his hand down firmer when he feels Draco trying to open it anyway. "I trust him Draco," he continues. "And I suggest you try to do the same. Now, don’t read things you shouldn’t be reading and I’ll be right back."
"Hmf," is the only response Harry gets as he gives him a quick kiss on the forehead before getting up and leaving the room.
Roughly ten minutes later, Harry sits back on his heels and closes the Floo with a swish of his hand. As the green flames turn back into their red and orangy state he sighs, letting his head hang for a while. Neither Godwin nor his house-elf are answering his calls. Worry is slowly creeping up on him; what could’ve caused his sudden absence?
"He didn’t answer," he says as he sees Draco look up hopefully when he re-enters the library. He closes the double doors behind him softly as Draco rakes a hand through his hair, and then another, turning towards the window. Immediately the curse around his neck starts to shimmer again. Harry walks towards him and, kneeling down, softly strokes the line with his fingers.
"It really is quite beautiful, you know," he says, giving his husband a small smile.
"Beautiful?!" Draco says. "Well, lucky me, then. I might not have my magic anymore, but at least I’m beautiful. Thank you Harry." He closes his book and Harry notices the tremor in his hands.
"Since when are you hands shaking?" Harry asks and drops his own.
"Huh?" Draco says before looking down. "Oh." He shakes his head quickly. "It’s nothing, they’ve been like that for a couple of days now. Probably just the stress."
Harry scowls but says nothing.
"I’m going to see Hermione for a bit, care to join me?" he asks after a while.
"No, thanks," Draco answers, clenching his hands in a futile attempt to make the shaking appear a little less.
"You’ll be okay on your own then?"
Draco nods and stares out of the window again, avoiding Harry’s eyes.
"Okay then," Harry says and after softly squeezing Draco’s shoulder, gets up and leaves.
When he closes the library doors behind him once more, he pretends he doesn’t hear a heavy book being slammed against one of the bookshelves.
PART 2
Author: dawnlett
Recipient: winterdaffodils
Pairing: Harry Potter/ Draco Malfoy
Wordcount: ~16k
Warnings: Uses of the Cruciatus Curse, heavy emotions
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, his world nor his husband belong to me.
Summary: Five years after the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been replaced as Minister for Magic by Minister Cyneric, who is set on re-opening every single closed Death Eater case. Unfortunately, Draco's name is amongst them, assessed with the highest danger rating possible. Not able to live with the sentence given to him, Draco will have to find a way out of the mess the Minister has created for him and Harry…alive.
AO3: COLD CASE
Author's notes: First and foremost, thank you 'T' for the extreme thorough beta and 'S' and 'S' for all the help! Without any of you this would not have been possible. Also thanks to the Mod for her everlasting patience and smarts.
Dear winterdaffodils, I had so much fun writing this, even when neither Harry nor Draco wanted to work with me. I hope you'll like it!
This piece was originally written for hpholiday's Christmas fest and originally posted HERE.
[Cold Case]
The room is a dark, almost mossy shade of green. Torches are lighting only part of the walls, hiding most faces of the attending Wizengamot members in shadows. One of them, an elderly wizard with a long black beard streaked with grey, nervously clears his throat, while a young blond woman on the other side of the room reshuffles a stack of papers for the second time.
"Reopening the case of Draco Abraxas Malfoy." The man sitting at the head of the table taps the file in front of him once with his wand. He is middle-aged, has dark, shoulder length hair tied in a short ponytail on his back and auburn robes. "Aged 22. Currently residing on 147 Chester Square, London with Mister H.J. Potter. Current case status: dismissed." He swishes his wand once to make the papers float into the middle of the room to stay and circle around each other. "Discussing the new evidence in case number 3094, Gylden Bungard has the floor."
The younger blond woman nervously looks around and swallows audibly in the eerie silence of the room. She picks up the stack of parchment in front of her, her hands shaking so badly she has to put it down for a minute to calm herself. "I don’t think we should do this," she tries, glancing at the Head Auror before trying to find the eyes of her fellow members. "I think we’re making a mistake." Her tone is urgent and serious, yet soft enough it could be considered a whisper.
The room stays silent, not one person present daring to voice their opinion openly with the Head Auror in the room. Orders were clear, orders were strict: every single war case would be reopened, starting with anybody suspected of having been fighting on the side of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"And why," the Head Auror starts in a bored tone, "would you think this is a mistake, Miss Bungard?" She can’t see it, but can almost hear the cocked eyebrow in his voice. She knows he thinks she is inexperienced, lucky to have got a job so many wanted, so many who, in his eyes, could’ve done a much better job than herself.
"We shouldn’t forget we’re not just dealing with Mister Malfoy," she says. Her hands start shaking again and she curls them into fists in an attempt to control her nerves. "It was Mister Potter himself who pleaded against the Ministry considering Mister Malfoy’s case." The Head Auror stays quiet, staring at her with what looks to her like a very unimpressed expression. When it seems like he is not going to answer her, she tries to continue, but is interrupted.
"The Ministry does not fear Mister Potter, nor his opinion of us," he says. "Do I make myself clear?" He doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues. "The evidence, Miss Bungard."
Gylden looks down at her papers, defeated, and nods once. "I sent each of you a file with the aforementioned evidence, which you have all read by now. The evidence, derived from sources of the Minister for Magic himself, are primary in source, secondary in documentation." She puts down the file she was holding and points her wand at the others still floating in mid-air. A quick flick of her wand has one of them floating above the others, rotating around its own axis. "As we can see in the first document-"
"We’ve all seen the evidence." The elderly man with the dark beard on the other side of the room stands as he speaks. "And I am sure we can all agree it is of the highest importance this case is handled immediately."
"Ezekiel is right," another man says. He is shorter and somewhat chubby with the nose of a pig. He speaks robustly, so much so that spit regularly flies out with every hard consonant. "The evidence, if in case, valid, is rather disturbing indeed."
A woman, probably around her forties, with long red curls, gets up. "Immediate action is required to ensure the safety of the Wizarding World," she says, her face stern.
"That is assuming the evidence that has been found is valid," Gylden says. "According to-"
"I thought we had established the evidence to be valid enough to be used in the Wizengamot trial of Mister Malfoy already?" Aldrin says sarcastically. "I think we are ready to assign a rating to Mister Malfoy." He looks around the room calmly, a determined look in his eyes.
"Anybody in favour of giving Draco Abraxas Malfoy a five-star rating raise your hands, please."
A set of 48 hands are raised, only Gylden’s and a woman’s she didn’t recognised stay down. Their eyes lock, Gylden’s confused, the woman’s sad.
"Adopted." Aldren’s voice rings through the room. "From this day on, Draco Abraxas Malfoy will be guilty of treason against the Ministry of Magic on the account of Death Eater practises and will from now on be guarded under the five-star danger rating." He swishes his wand, and as the papers rotating in the middle of the room come floating back to him he says: "Gentlemen." The Aurors at the door turn and salute. "Immediate repercussion shall be executed." He then looks around the room one last time. "You are dismissed."
As she leaves the room with the rest of the Wizengamot members, Gylden can’t shake off the feeling of having made a terrible mistake today. Something wasn’t right about all of this. Something was definitely not right.
*
The weather is cold and windy as Harry and Draco make their way over to the front door of their old English home. It’s a beautiful home, Harry has to agree, even though it might just be a little too pompous for him. However, his husband seems to love it and it isn’t the Manor, so Harry is okay with it. Not to mention that the view from their living- and bedroom is absolutely amazing.
As they enter they are greeted by their House Elf, Pip. Pip had joined them in their home roughly a year after Harry and Draco had begun living there. She had been fired by her last owner for being too peppy, which Draco had initially mistaken for the word ‘pippy’. This had resulted in the nickname ‘Pip’. It fit her well, and as she was now officially a ‘rescue elf’, Hermione didn’t seem to oppose, which was a good thing for the overall peace, too.
"Master Draco sir has company," she squeaks nervously as Harry puts his scarf and coat on the peg in their hallway. "They is being in the sitting room. Pip has already been giving them tea, sirs."
"Tell them we’ll be in shortly," Draco says and gives the tiny house-elf a quick pet before she walks back into their sitting room, her steps small and hasty.
Harry looks expectantly at Draco. "Were we expecting anybody?"
Draco shakes his head slowly. "Not that I know of," he says before looking back at Harry. "Did she seem extra nervous, somehow?" He hands Harry his coat and scarf which join Harry’s on the peg.
"Doesn’t she always?" Harry asks and smiles, throwing his arm around Draco’s shoulders. Draco has been a little paranoid ever since the war has ended, and uninvited strangers in their house is not a good sign in his book, Harry knows. "Everything will be fine," he says. He lets his arm fall from Draco’s shoulders and takes his hand. "Come on, let’s see who’s here for us."
As they enter their sitting room, Harry sees a group of roughly eight Aurors sitting and standing around. Harry recognises maybe a couple of them, but the rest look unfamiliar to him. "Can we help you, gentlemen?" he asks. Draco is partly hiding behind him, not so much that it’s noticeable but just enough for him to feel safe enough around a group of men he doesn’t know personally.
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy?" a larger man in dark red robes in the back of the room asks. His black hair is tied back in a short ponytail. Harry recognises him from pictures to be the current Head Auror, but knows nothing else about him.
"Yes?" Draco says insecurely. Harry feels him gripping his hand tighter and squeezes back in reassurance.
The Head Auror moves so swift and unexpected that neither Harry nor Draco have enough time to respond. Harry gets blasted against the far wall of their sitting room as two Aurors corner Draco. A quick spell from the third disarms Draco while a fourth casts a binding spell on Harry’s arms. He screams and a burst of his magic shatters the windows and every single other glass item present in the room. Two more Aurors grab him and hold him down as he watches the Head Auror cast a spell on Draco. A single silvery thread gets shot out of the tip of the Auror’s wand and wraps itself around Draco’s neck. As Draco scrunches his eyes shut tightly, twitching on the floor in pain, the black-haired man unrolls a scroll of parchment.
"Draco Abraxas Malfoy," he begins. "From this day forward you are officially convicted as a former Death Eater and direct threat to our Wizarding Society. Therefore you shall live on, banned from using magic. In case you breach your sentence and the rules which have been laid upon you, you shall be transported to Azkaban for life, immediately."
Harry struggles to get free of the two men still restraining him. "You can’t do this!" he screams. "He was cleared of all charges years ago, you have no right-"
"Spare me your assumptions and accusations," Aldrin says in a bored tone as he lets go of the end of the scroll, which rolls back up. He waves his hand once and the two Aurors let go of Harry’s arms as Aldrin casts a Finite Incantatem. Harry wastes no time, gets up and pulls out his wand. The Head Auror looks at him, annoyance clearly visible on his face.
"Now is not the time for heroes, Mister Potter," he says. "So if you know what’s good for you and your…" he shoots a glance at Draco, "husband," he spits the word out as if it’s something disgusting, "you’ll put your wand away."
Harry is breathing heavily. Anger is soaring through him and as he sees Draco’s unconscious body lying on the ground next to him he is torn between running over to him to make sure he’s okay and ripping out the Head Auror’s throat. He decides on the first, puts his wand away, shoots the Auror a look of pure hatred and rushes over to Draco’s side.
Aldrin chuckles. "See, now that’s a good boy." It comes out in a drawl and even though Harry isn’t looking, he can still hear the smugness present in the man’s voice. He turns to look Aldrin in the eye. "This is not the end of it," he threatens.
"Oh, I don’t doubt it is," Aldrin replies, eyebrow cocked and smug smile visible. He turns and leaves through the front door, the team of Aurors he brought with him following without sparing them as much as a second glance.
*
The Ministry is bustling with life when Harry Apparates inside. The wards crackle around him, protesting against the vile intrusion. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but speaking to the Minister for Magic and setting what has been done straight as soon as possible. People around him give surprised yelps as he so impudently appears in their midst. After all, Apparating within the Ministry or on-or-off Ministry ground has been impossible ever since the demise of Voldemort, and even before that only licenced people could do it.
Harry takes a quick look around, notes the surprised looks and starts walking towards security. The man behind the desk seems very young. His shoulders are hunched in what seems to be almost a permanent shrug, and when Harry approaches him he ducks his head. Harry shoots the lad a dangerous look when he is asked for the registration of his wand and stalks right past him.
When he reaches the lifts they are filled completely with people. However, Harry doesn’t feel like he has time to waste and pulls a man in dark purple robes out of one of them. The man starts to protest, but stops when he sees Harry’s scar.
"Mister Potter," he starts, surprise and shock evident in his voice. The rest of his sentence gets muffled as the doors of the lift violently close on them. An awkward silence hangs in the air as they slowly go down the shaft. Harry cocks his head sideways a couple of times and manages to crack his neck twice. He is angry.
As he stalks towards the Minister’s office a set of two Aurors try to stop him. One of them is older, probably mid thirties, and has an ashen kind of short, blond hair. His robes fit him well and his stance is secure, emitting an aura of authority. The other Auror is smaller, probably only a trainee, has dark brown curly hair and is wearing robes that are at least one size too big on him.
"Halt!" the older of the two calls out as Harry walks right past them. He doesn’t pay the two any attention until he hears the start of the chant for a stunning curse. Harry whirls around, wand at the ready, and blocks the curse without too much trouble.
"Expelliarmus!" he calls out and disarms both of the Aurors facing him at the same time. As he gives them a small salute with their wands, he turns back around and continues his way down to the Minister’s office.
When he enters the oval office the Minister is working at his desk. Harry moves towards it and angrily slams both his hands down onto it.
Unimpressed, the Minister looks Harry straight in the eye, causing Harry to have to swallow away the sudden unexplainable feeling of nausea. "And what can I do for you today, Mister Potter?" he asks.
Harry is fuming now. How dare the man be so calm! "I don’t know what you were thinking," he says, voice raised and nostrils flared, "but you undo what you did right now!"
"Take a seat." The Minister’s calm tone does nothing to ease Harry’s anger and so he refuses. Instead, he raises himself back up, back straight and eyes looking down at the man in front of him.
"If you think you can intimidate me, you are mistaken," the Minister says. "Now what exactly can I help you with?"
Harry gives the man another once over. Minister Cyneric had taken Kingsley’s place after the last elections. Harry has always thought of him as a somewhat peculiar man, and even now the presence of the man has small shivers run down his spine. There is just something off about him, something Harry can’t quite place. It’s almost as if he’d seen the man before somewhere.
"It’s about my husband," Harry says and, when Cyneric doesn’t respond, adds: "Draco Malfoy." Harry takes a deep breath to calm himself down just enough to speak to the Minister in a calm and clear tone. "He was cleared of all charges roughly five years ago. Today, a group of your Aurors came marching in our home with the news that he was once again convicted of Death Eater practices."
Cyneric nods but doesn’t say anything, so Harry continues. "I want this solved. I want the conviction reversed."
"Take a seat, Mister Potter," the Minister repeats while directing his hand at the chair on Harry’s side of the desk. This time Harry obeys, hoping it will at least favor him in getting this problem solved.
Now the Minister stands up and Harry curses inwardly, Auror lesson number one: never give your opponent the idea they are in a more powerful position than you. "You might not be aware," Cyneric starts, "but for the past year or so the Ministry has been going over so-called ‘cold cases’. Cases the last Minister deemed…" Cyneric pauses for a moment. "Unsolvable."
Harry cocks an eyebrow at the man. Draco’s case hadn’t been unsolvable, it had been dismissed.
"Ah," Cyneric continues. "I know what you’re thinking, Mister Potter. Mister Malfoy’s case was indeed not necessarily unsolvable. However..." Harry sees him look him up and down once, giving him the chills. There is just something about this man… "the only reason Mister Malfoy was cleared of all charges was because of lack of substantial proof. Proof that has now been found."
"Okay," Harry says, "then I’d like to see such proof."
"Ah, but here’s the problem with that." Cyneric smiles a toothy grin."You gave up that right when you resigned your position as an Auror, Mister Potter."
*
The house is warm and inviting when Harry comes home. The fires are lit, probably by Pip, and there’s a nice melody playing on the wireless. Harry steps out of the fireplace and makes his way through the sitting room area into the hallway. A soft humming in Latin can be heard from upstairs and Harry sighs in relief; at least the Healer is already working on Draco.
The first thing Harry had done when the Auror squad had left was Floo for Hermione. Draco had been unconscious and, unable to wake him up, Harry had panicked. Hermione had wasted no time and had come over straight away, promising Harry to get in touch with a Healer as fast as she could while Harry Apparated away loudly.
When Harry enters their bedroom the Healer looks up and puts his wand down on one of the bedside tables.
"And?" Harry asks worriedly as he shakes the Healer’s hand. He’s seen the man plenty of time before at St Mungo’s. He is a kind man, around his forties, with dark skin and even darker hair.
"He hasn’t shown any other signs of life yet," Healer August says. Harry chokes, his eyes darting from the limp body of his husband to the Healer and back. "Not to worry, Mister Potter," August smiles and reaches out for him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "His body is in shock. With time and rest he’ll be absolutely fine."
Harry nods. "And the spell?" he asks.
"Only time will tell what the exact effects are." August’s face is grim. Dropping his hand from Harry’s shoulder he picks up his wand and casts a nonverbal spell on Draco. Several areas on his body begin to glow instantly.
August hovers his hand over one of the brighter spots. "The magical currents within his body are moving and weak," he says, proceeding further down, "and they all seem to be aiming directly towards where Mister Malfoy was hit with the curse." He flicks his wand and lifts the spell, making the room dim down instantly. "There is really no telling what the end result will be, I’m afraid, Mister Potter.
As the Healer leaves Harry lets himself fall into the big and comfortable chair next to the bed. He closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing his hands over his tired face.
"Oh Draco…"
*
"How is he doing?" The words have left her mouth before she’s even properly stepped out of the fireplace. She dusts herself off gracefully and hands her cloak to Pip.
"Thank yous Mistress ma’am," Pip squeaks before running off to put the silky garment away.
Narcissa ignores the elf and stares at Harry, who notices for the first time how old she’s really started to look.
"We don’t know," he says and holds up his hand when he sees Narcissa is about to say something. "Let me finish, Mistress Malfoy." Staying calm is hard. Preferably Harry would be slamming a certain Minister and Head Auror against a few walls or more, but as that isn’t going to help his case any, he decided staying calm was the best way to go for both him and Draco. The one person who needs him most right now.
"Healer August was here yesterday and according to his findings, Draco will be fine. We just don’t know in what way yet."
Narcissa raises her chin defiantly, eyes blazing, reminding Harry that she is not only his husband’s caring mother, but also still a Black by blood and Malfoy by marriage. The one Malfoy who stood against Voldemort’s will and spilled his plans to another man, at that.
"And who exactly were the men who did this to my son?" She almost spits the words in disgust. "I have a right to know. Draco-"
"Needs us by his side," Harry interrupts. He sees Narcissa blink rapidly a couple of times, mouth set in a grim line, probably not used to people cutting her off like that. Sitting down in a huff, she crosses her legs ever so elegantly. "Then at least come to the Manor with me," she says, hands folded in her lap. "He’ll have more room there and infinite resources in potions and Healers. We only have the best of the best, of course."
Harry sighs inwardly, he’d been expecting this request. "I’d rather have him stay here with me," he says and quickly adds: "At least for now. But I’ll ask him what he prefers when he wakes."
"If he wakes," Narcissa says quietly.
"When he wakes. I have the fullest confidence in Healer August," Harry answers.
They sit in absolute silence for a while, the only sound the flames crackling in the big, white marble fireplace. Harry tries to imagine how hard it must be for her - husband in Azkaban for life, her son’s life uncertain and her own future unclear - but fails. The only thing he is capable of feeling right now is his worry for Draco and his anger towards the Ministry.
In the end, it is Harry who breaks the quiet. "Have you heard anything from the Ministry yet?" he asks.
Narcissa shakes her head calmly, eyes on an invisible spot on the far end wall, before looking over at Harry. "No. But neither you nor my son had any warning beforehand either, had you?"
Harry doesn’t say anything as the answer to her question is obvious.
"In any way, it would be unnecessary," she continues. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, I’m safely in my family’s chateau in France." A small smile plays on her lips. "I am safe. For now."
Harry nods, but before he can say any more the fireplace starts blazing again and Hermione steps through. At first she sees only Harry and is about the speak until her eyes find Narcissa’s.
Both women stare at each other for a moment, neither party unwilling to break contact before the other one does. Hermione looks pale, fists clenched tightly. It might’ve been years, but she still can’t be in the same room as Narcissa Malfoy, memories of the war and the Manor still fresh on her mind. Narcissa on the other hand looks rather calm, and a bit solemn.
"I should leave," she says as she gets up. Pip immediately comes running in with Narcissa’s cloak. Again not acknowledging the tiny creature, she puts it on and walks towards the fireplace. "Thank you for your time, Harry," she says before disappearing in the flames. "Take good care of my son."
Hermione opens the bag she’s carrying right away, taking out a set of ten books or so. "I’ve been going over and through every document and book I could find considering Wizarding Law," she says. "But there’s nothing we can do to the Ministry. They have every right to go over these so-called ‘cold cases’."
Harry rakes a hand through his hair, making it stand up in some places before shaking his head. "They can’t do this," he protests. "They can’t just re-open old cases because they’re not agreeing with the old Wizagamot’s verdict!"
"And that’s exactly the problem," she says. "Draco was never cleared, nor voted an innocent man. His case was dismissed due to lack of substantial proof from either side." She pauses to let this information sink in. "Harry, his case was never closed."
*
The big clock above the mantelpiece chimes eleven times as Healer August arrives through the Floo. He dusts off his cloak a bit before taking it off and handing it to Pip. Harry closes one of the many Wizarding Law books he has open on the table and sighs.
"Anything so far?" the Healer asks him. By now they’ve turned into questions of formality, as they both know Harry is unable to find anything and probably never will.
Harry shakes his head. "It all seems perfectly legal what they’re doing, Emanuel."
The Healer nods solemnly. "It is what I feared," he says and walks towards the hallway to go up and see Draco. As he passes Harry he stops and softly lays his big hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing once. "It’ll be okay, son."
When Emanuel has left the room Harry sits back down heavily in his chair. It is time to hire somebody with a little more knowledge. Maybe that’ll get them somewhere.
*
"Draco!" Harry jumps up out of his chair as his husband walks, somewhat shakily, into the kitchen. Draco’s hair is a mess and he’s as pale as a ghost but he’s awake and walking - a huge relief to Harry who’d started to fear he might never wake up. Harry walks around the table and engulfs Draco in one of the tightest hugs he’s ever got.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asks after he’s finally let go of Draco.
Draco blinks first a couple of times before swallowing hard and smiling a weak smile with empty, watery eyes. "‘m fine," he says.
Harry’s heart breaks, but as Draco obviously doesn’t want to talk about it now he lets it go. "Can I get Pip to get you anything?" he asks instead, but Draco just shakes his head and sits down at the table, giving the man already sitting there an odd look over.
"Let me introduce myself," the man says as Harry sits back down opposite of him. "My name’s Godwin, attorney Godwin, but you may call me Gregory." He holds out his hand for Draco to shake but when Draco doesn’t move, slides his index finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging nervously at it, before continuing awkwardly. "I have been going over your case for the past few days with Harry here and-"
"Oh," Draco says. "Harry, is it?" He raises his eyebrows curiously at his husband.
Harry bites his tongue and closes his eyes for a second to keep himself calm. Draco’s jealous streak has always been something he finds hard to deal with, but just like Draco’s earlier comment he lets it slide for now.
"And Gregory here thinks we best take another close look at the new evidence the Ministry has suddenly found against you," Harry says.
"Exactly," Gregory adds. "The only way to reverse what has been done is to see if it is indeed valid evidence or not. I heard you were not present at the trial itself?"
Draco shakes his head calmly, still staring the man down.
"Right." Godwin clears his throat. "And were you notified such a trial was in progress at the time?"
Once again Draco doesn’t answer and only raises a single eyebrow.
The attorney looks from Harry to Draco and back before quickly writing something down on the parchment in front of him. "Interesting," he mumbles, mostly to himself, and stares at the wall for a while, lost in thought.
"So, I am assuming here neither of you saw any of the newly found evidence?"
Harry sees Draco roll his eyes, a snide comment probably already on his lips, and cuts in. "We haven’t. We wouldn’t even know what it is they’ve found."
Gregory nods. "Very promising," he says. "You see, if we can somehow prove that the evidence is, in fact, not valid, then they’ll once again have to dismiss the case."
"Ending us right back where we started," Draco says now, leaning in and letting his arms rest on the table in front of him. "We got in this mess in the first place because my case was, apparently..." He glances at Harry, "dismissed. They’ll just reopen it again."
"And that is where you are wrong," Godwin says with a smug smile. "Not only can evidence never be re-used after falsification, the Wizengamot will have to come up with proof for themselves as to not only get Draco’s case dismissed, but to prevent him from being cleared of all charges. Standard procedure." He leans back in his chair.
"All charges?" Draco says, leaning in, interest piqued.
"All charges," Godwin answers.
*
Harry comes walking down the stairs when he hears a loud crash in the sitting room area.
"Draco!" he calls out as he rushes down the stairs, jumps off the the last couple of steps and sprints into the room.
Entering, he finds Draco frozen and dumbfoundedly staring at the remains of a mug of tea on their hard wooden floor.
"What happened?" Harry asks as he walks over to his husband, whips out his wand and vanishes the shards and cold liquid away.
"I just wanted to make it hover," Draco says, voice small, "while grabbing a book." He holds out the book as if to show him he isn’t lying. "And it just fell." He looks back up at Harry now, eyes big and eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "It just fell," he repeats. "Just… fell."
Draco’s breathing quickens as panic rises in his throat. He closes his eyes and Harry sees he is trying to calm himself down but losing the battle with what he imagines must be the memories of what happened with the Aurors. Harry steps closer and wraps his arms around his husband. "It’ll be alright," he chants. "Everything will be alright."
As they sit down for tea later that day, a big tawny owl taps its beak against the window impatiently. Harry sees Draco get up, but stops him with a hand on his arm. "I’ll get it," he says. "It’s probably a letter from Gregory." He opens the windows and a cold breeze comes in, making him shiver. "He told me he would get in touch the moment he’d find something," he says and gives the owl a small treat before quickly closing the window again. "I guess he did." He waves the envelope a couple of times before sitting back down and opening it.
The letter is short and simple, written on a ripped off piece of paper rather than official letter parchment, the handwriting hasty and almost illegible.
"He says there’s something majorly wrong with the evidence," Harry says. "He went to investigate, but ensures us it’s great news and will stop by tomorrow afternoon."
"That’s all?" Draco says, copying Harry’s confusion.
Harry nods and folds the bit of parchment back up. "I guess we’ll have to wait for tomorrow."
*
Harry scrunches his brow as he stares at an invisible spot on the wall, fork in mid-air and mashed potatoes slowly falling off it.
"Care to share?" Draco says and puts a forkful of his own mashed potatoes in his mouth.
Harry hums under his breath once before tearing his gaze away from the wall and shaking his head a couple of times. "Just wondering what he could’ve found, ‘s’all," he says while putting his fork back down for a new bite. He pokes away at his vegetables before looking back up at Draco. "Are you sure you don’t have any idea?"
To his amazement Draco slams his fork down on the table, throws the napkin from his lap on his plate and gets up. "I’m done here," he says before storming off.
"Draco!" Harry calls out after him, hastily putting his own napkin down as well and following his husband’s footsteps up into the bedroom. Draco is pacing, hands clenched tightly into fists and face dark.
Harry hovers in the doorway for a while, waiting for Draco to spot him, but is ignored.
"Draco- "
"No," Draco interrupts, turning towards Harry. "You think you’re helping, but you’re really not, you know that?"
Harry opens his mouth to respond but Draco cuts him off before he’s even had the chance to start talking.
"Do you think I know what he possibly could’ve found as evidence against me? Because if I do I might as well confess to the whole thing right now!" he says, angrily throwing his arms up in the air and raking his hands through his hair.
"Draco I wasn’t -" Harry starts.
"YES YOU WERE!" Draco screams. "It’s been like this all day and yesterday since that bloody letter arrived." He huffs disdainfully. "Draco, do you know what this could be? Draco, do you have any idea? Draco, think, what could he have found? Well, I don’t know what it could’ve been, Harry, but obviously you think I do!"
He spreads his arms as if to make a point, knocking over a vase filled with flowers from the dresser in the process. Before either of them can react it has fallen onto the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Draco curses, holds out his hand and falls completely still.
Harry, wand already in hand to fix the vase, realises only a second too late what it was that his husband was trying to do. He walks over to Draco and softly puts his hand on his back. Draco looks pale, almost sickly so, mouth set into a firm grim. Harry opens his mouth to say something and sees Draco clench his open hand back into a fist, turning his head away from him. After giving Draco a reassuring pat on the back, Harry nods once and leaves the room.
As he gets back into the kitchen Pip hurriedly comes up to him. "Is Master Draco sir going to bees okay, sir?" she asks, concern clear in her voice, eyes big and round as she stares up at Harry.
Harry kneels down and pats her on the head. "He’ll be okay," he says as he ruffles her ears. She scrunches up her eyes and lets out a soft giggle. "And Mister Harry Potter sir? Can Pip do anything to makes him feels better?"
"No, that’s quite alright, Pip," Harry says and stands back up. Before he’s out of the room he turns back around. "On second thought," he says and sees Pip already starting to nod, making him smile. The eager house-elf she is, she’s always trying to find ways to make her owners feel at home. Or well, employers, that should be, as Pip is always wearing clothes of the most expensive brands and highest couture, Draco would see to that. Right now she’s wearing a soft yellow and white ruffled dress with a big bow around her neck, tied in front. Harry had laughed the first time Draco had showed it to him, convinced he’d just robbed a doll shop from the eighteen hundreds, but Pip had fallen in love with it at first sight. This meant that, technically, she was a free elf, even when she wasn’t accepting any payment other than pretty dresses, ruffled socks and shoes so polished Harry could almost use them as a mirror.
"I’ll do the dishes tonight." He sees her look at him in confusion. "It’ll give me something to keep me distracted with for now."
*
Harry jumps as the clock strikes midnight. After the dishes he’d laid down on the big sofa in the library and had closed his eyes for just a minute, which had turned out to be closer to a few hours. He blinks and stretches, looking around for Pip or Draco. When neither of them seem to be around he calls for the house-elf.
"Did anybody Floo in while I was sleeping?" he asks her when she pops into the room.
Pip shakes her head, making her ears flop around. "No. Was sir expecting somebody?"
Harry looks back at the clock, checking the time again. It really is midnight. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, trying to think. "I," he starts but pauses and looks back at the elf. "Yes, but it’s okay." He smiles at her. "I’ll be going to bed now, Pip, can you take care of the candles?"
"Of course, Mister Harry Potter sir!" she happily squeaks. "Good night!"
"Good night, Pip."
When Harry enters the bedroom Draco is already in bed with the lights turned off. When he carefully lifts the covers and gets, into the bed Harry feels Draco’s body stiffen next to him. He waits for him to turn and say something, but when nothing happens, Harry decides to leave him be for now.
He places a soft kiss on Draco’s shoulder as he lies down and closes his eyes, deciding he’ll Floo Godwin in the morning.
*
When Harry opens his eyes the next morning he notices that the other half of the bed is already empty. He stretches, tiredly rubs his hands over his face and gets out of bed. Tying his dressing gown on the way down, he hears somebody rummage in the library. He takes a few steps towards the sound before he hears Draco curse loudly. That convinces him it’s probably a better idea to leave the library alone right now and turns to go make them a nice cup of hot tea before trying.
Entering the library, now with a tray containing a big teapot filled with cinnamon-apple tea and two cups, he notices Draco propped up against one of the many bookshelves, reading a big, dusty, leather-bound book. As the light of the morning sun comes in through one of the bigger windows it hits Draco, revealing the odd shimmer that is the spell. Harry notes to himself that, however ironic it might be, it looks rather beautiful.
"Hey," he says as he sits down in front of Draco and hands him one of the cups.
Draco looks up at him and gives Harry a small smile as he accepts the tea. "Hi."
"Wait," Harry says as he sees Draco carefully raise the cup to his lips. Taking out his wand, he casts a soft cooling charm on it, just enough to make it drinkable, getting a soft ‘thank you’ from Draco.
"So what are you reading?" Harry tries, happy that Draco has apparently calmed down enough to not feel the urge to start yelling at him again.
Draco shrugs. "Just some magic things," he says as he pushes the book away from Harry, who reaches over and grabs it anyway. Draco lets his head fall back against the bookcase and closes his eyes with a sigh.
"You make it very hard for me not to strangle you," he mumbles, and Harry laughs softly in response.
However, that laugh quickly disappears as he looks down at the title and reads Squibs and Magic: How, What and Why? by Elina Burstrow. Harry swallows audibly and puts the book back where Draco had pushed it to.
"It’ll be alright," he says softly, and for a moment he isn’t sure if he’s talking to Draco or himself.
Draco doesn’t seem to notice and opens his eyes again. "You think?" he asks and, not waiting for an answer, continues, "I don’t exactly have a lot of faith in your Godwin friend."
Harry takes a sip from his tea before answering. "You just don’t like him," he says. "And you’re not exactly keeping an open mind towards him."
"It’s not him, Harry," Draco says. "Well, maybe a bit." Harry smiles into his cup. "But let’s face it: I might be Harry Potter’s husband, but above anything else I am and will always be a Malfoy in the eyes of the Ministry."
"Draco," Harry begins but hesitates, not sure what to say.
"Let’s not argue. At least not for today," Draco says and Harry nods. "What did he say?"
"He didn’t show," Harry says and, when Draco cocks an eyebrow at him quickly adds, "I was on my way to Floo him when I heard you in here."
"I wonder what kind of excuse he’ll have," Draco muses as he picks his book back up.
"I’m not sure," Harry says and puts his hand on the book’s cover, preventing Draco from opening it. "But I’m sure it’ll be valid." He pushes his hand down firmer when he feels Draco trying to open it anyway. "I trust him Draco," he continues. "And I suggest you try to do the same. Now, don’t read things you shouldn’t be reading and I’ll be right back."
"Hmf," is the only response Harry gets as he gives him a quick kiss on the forehead before getting up and leaving the room.
Roughly ten minutes later, Harry sits back on his heels and closes the Floo with a swish of his hand. As the green flames turn back into their red and orangy state he sighs, letting his head hang for a while. Neither Godwin nor his house-elf are answering his calls. Worry is slowly creeping up on him; what could’ve caused his sudden absence?
"He didn’t answer," he says as he sees Draco look up hopefully when he re-enters the library. He closes the double doors behind him softly as Draco rakes a hand through his hair, and then another, turning towards the window. Immediately the curse around his neck starts to shimmer again. Harry walks towards him and, kneeling down, softly strokes the line with his fingers.
"It really is quite beautiful, you know," he says, giving his husband a small smile.
"Beautiful?!" Draco says. "Well, lucky me, then. I might not have my magic anymore, but at least I’m beautiful. Thank you Harry." He closes his book and Harry notices the tremor in his hands.
"Since when are you hands shaking?" Harry asks and drops his own.
"Huh?" Draco says before looking down. "Oh." He shakes his head quickly. "It’s nothing, they’ve been like that for a couple of days now. Probably just the stress."
Harry scowls but says nothing.
"I’m going to see Hermione for a bit, care to join me?" he asks after a while.
"No, thanks," Draco answers, clenching his hands in a futile attempt to make the shaking appear a little less.
"You’ll be okay on your own then?"
Draco nods and stares out of the window again, avoiding Harry’s eyes.
"Okay then," Harry says and after softly squeezing Draco’s shoulder, gets up and leaves.
When he closes the library doors behind him once more, he pretends he doesn’t hear a heavy book being slammed against one of the bookshelves.
PART 2