Of Two Minds

"You came."

It was not a question; merely a calmly stated observation. Harry nodded his head in reply, flipping the wide arms of his robes out of his way so he could hug the young woman in front of him. Their embrace was short but fierce. Harry could feel where the weight had dropped off her already slight frame during the past few months. Her shoulder bones jutted sharply against the thin covering of black velvet.

"Hey Hermione," he whispered into her ear. He heard a suspicious sniffle but there was no trace of tears on her face when she pushed him back to get a good look at him.

"Hey yourself," she said. "How have you been?"

"I'm okay," he lied smoothly. "Things have quieted down considerably since...well, you know..."

"Liar," she teased, giving a lock of his dark hair a tweak. "You haven't been sleeping, have you? You've got bags the size of hippogriffs under your eyes."

Harry gave her a sheepish smile and poked his finger into her ribs, laughing as she twitched.

"And you," he grinned, "haven't been eating, so I guess we're even."

"Ron couldn't come," she said, adeptly changing the subject. "He's been pretty busy with his Auror Training. Besides which, I doubt he'd want to be here anyway. I have to be present for the Ministry but I didn't know for sure if you'd show up."

Harry's grin vanished and was replaced by a hardened expression. Something in the tightening of the mouth and narrowing of the eyes made him look much older then his eighteen years.

"I had to come," he said. "I'm the reason he's here in the first place. I owe it to him."

Hermione frowned as if she might argue with this, but only said, "I doubt he'll thank you for it."

"I don't expect him to."

After that statement, there seemed to be nothing more to say. Hermione motioned Harry to sit down in one of the chairs placed around the small wooden table, upon which sat the remains of afternoon tea. Harry glanced at the cup which Hermione placed in front of him and shook his head.

"I don't like it," he muttered. "We're here to witness an execution and they give us tea and crumpets like it's some kind of party."

Hermione shrugged and took a sip of her own tea. "Considering who we're executing, it probably seems like a party for some."

Harry shot a dark look at her, ready to snap back a harsh comment, but saw only a pained look of weariness on her face. 'She hates this as much as I do', he realized.

"Besides," she continued, "it's not really an execution. He'll still be alive, after all. Which is more then we can say for his victims."

There was a pause.

"You don't believe that."

"You're right. I don't."

"Then why did you say it?"

She flashed a small grin at him which didn't quite meet her eyes. "Come on Harry, surely you know how comforting fairy tales can be to a frightened child."

Harry got up from his chair to stand behind her, bending down to circle her shoulders with his arms once more. She let herself lean her cheek against his, wondering at the fact that even though Harry body was warm against her own, she felt nothing but cold.

It was in that position that Cornelius Fudge found them. The Minister of Magic cleared his throat, a scarlet flush lighting his face.

"If you are quite finished," Fudge sputtered, "perhaps we could get on with business?"

Harry stared stonily at the man and straightened. "Business..."

Fudge flinched at the tone but returned the glare with one of his own. "The execution," he clarified.

Hermione rose from her seat carefully, moving like a woman sixty years her senior. "Let's get this over with," she said quietly.

Harry nodded and followed her through the door, Fudge trailing behind them both. They walked through the darkened corridors swiftly. Hermione shivered at the icy cold of the air. Or maybe it was the faint screams and cries she could hear every so often that made her shudder violently. She couldn't tell.

They soon reached their destination: a small white room in which sat a single chair, chains hanging loosely across it. As soon as Fudge entered the room the door from which they entered faded into the smooth white wall, leaving no trace of its existence. A doorway on the opposite side of the room suddenly appeared and through it strode an entourage consisting of two Dementors and, sandwiched between them, the prisoner.

Instantly, a wailing began in Harry's head and the urge to cast a Patronus, to flee, to do something besides stand there, hit him. He curled his hand into a fist to keep from gripping his wand and waited for the wards Hermione was casting to take effect. Soon the wailing faded and Harry could see the ancient markings outlining the place where he, Hermione, and Fudge were standing, blaze with power.

The Dementors herded their charge into the center of the room. A dirty mop of blonde hair obscured the face but as the figure was pushed into the chair and the rattle of chains was heard the chin suddenly shot up in defiance, the grey eyes cold and furious.

"I refuse to be chained like an animal," he hissed.

"Well now, Mr. Malfoy, we can't exactly trust you to hold still for this," Fudge chortled. "The chains stay."

The body of the young man quivered with rage but submitted to the binding of his hands and feet to the chair. Once he was secured in place, the Dementors moved off to the side and Harry could see him clearly.

Draco Malfoy looked, for lack of a better word, horrible. He had always been thin but the sleek muscle of a Seeker's body had melted away into sharp bone hiding behind a thin layer of pale skin. His once richly golden hair had turned grey and brittle, and the tips fell half-way to his shoulders in a messy tangle. He looked so much smaller somehow, wearing the white cotton robes they had dressed him in, instead of the imposing Death Eater's robes he had been captured with. Harry looked down at his own black silk robes and Hermione's sombre dress and his lips twisted into a bitter smile.

'We're the ones that look like Death Eater's now.'

Malfoy caught his smile. "So you think this is funny, do you Potter?" he spat. "Care to share the joke? I could use a good laugh before you murder me."

"Hardly murder, Mr. Malfoy," Fudge interjected. "This is merely an execution of a dangerous criminal. In fact, we could call it pre-emptive self-defence."

Malfoy drew himself up as high as he could while chained to a chair. "You have a man chained in place, wandless, weaponless, and you are going to allow Dementors to suck his soul from his chest. That is not what I would call self-defence."

Fudge ignored this and motioned Hermione forward. She stepped closer, stopping just before the wards, and pulled a scroll from her sleeve.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she read, "you have been convicted of the following crimes: illegal use of the dark arts, illegal use of the unforgivable curses, conspiracy against the Ministry, kidnapping, and 3 counts of murder."

"Why is it," Malfoy asked, "that the killing of three Aurors who are throwing hexes and curses at you is murder but the killing of an unarmed man chained to a chair is self-defence?"

Hermione paused but did not acknowledge the comment. "For these crimes you have been found guilty on all counts. Your sentence, as issued by a jury of your peers--"

"Peers?" Malfoy snorted. "You've already killed all my peers, or have you forgotten? You would rather forget, wouldn't you Potter? Forget about Pansy and Vincent and Blaise and all the other classmates you ripped through into order to get to the Dark Lord. I hope it was worth it Potter. I hope it was worth all that blood on your hands to--"

"Mr. Malfoy," Fudge snapped, "must we gag you as well as chain you?"

The blonde quieted. His eyes bored steadily into Harry's until he could not take that steely grey look of reproach, of...betrayal? Harry looked away.

"Continue, Miss Granger," Fudge ordered.

Hermione's hands shook as she held the parchment but her voice did not waver in the slightest. "Your sentence, as issued by a jury of your peers, is death by use of The Kiss."

Malfoy did not so much a flinch at the words, though the Dementors at his side rustled impatiently at their mention.

"Thank you Miss Granger," Fudge said, stepping forward. A very pale Hermione stepped back and leaned gratefully against Harry's shoulder.

"Who witnesses this execution?"

"I do," Harry said.

"I do," whispered Hermione.

"Who carries out this execution?"

The Dementors rustled once more, announcing their presence, as if anyone in the room could forget they were there.

Cornelius Fudge nodded and clasped his hands. "Well everything seems to be in order. Any last requests Mr. Malfoy? Besides being released, that is."

Malfoy smiled coldly. "Actually I do have one request."

"And what is that?"

"A kiss."

Fudge laughed. "My dear boy, you already are getting The Kiss. Perhaps the anticipation is making you delusional?"

"Not The Kiss," Malfoy said, "a kiss. A real kiss. I've never had one and I don't fancy my first being from a Dementor."

Fudge did not look like he believed Malfoy's claim at such purity. For that matter, neither did anyone else in the room.

"You've never been kissed?" Fudge drawled. "How precious. Well I certainly don't want to do the honours and I very much doubt Miss Granger will want to, seeing as how you almost hexed the legs off her fiancé..."

"I don't want to kiss the little mudblood," Malfoy sneered. "I want to go to my death without puking all over myself, thank you very much. No, I want Potter."

Harry's mouth dropped open in amazement. If there were three words he was forced to bet on Draco Malfoy ever saying, "I want Potter" would be it.

'I want Potter dead, yes. I want Potter, no.'

The rattle of Malfoy's chains shook Harry from his thoughts. "Are you listening Potter?" Malfoy demanded as imperiously as one could when chained to a chair awaiting his own execution. "I said I want you to give me a kiss."

Harry frowned. "Why me, Malfoy? You hate me."

"Yes. I do."

"Then why?"

Malfoy seemed to slump in his chair. "It doesn't matter why," he muttered. "I'm going to die, my friends and family are already dead, I've never been kissed and I'm going to die and you-owe-me-Potter. Don't ask why."

"He's obviously gone insane," Fudge declared. "Let's get on with the execution--"

"Wait. He's right."

"Harry!" Hermione gave a worried tug on his sleeve. He shook her off impatiently.

"He's right. I owe him this one thing. Then it will be over. Just let me do this and it will all be over, okay?"

Fudge glared and pouted over being forced to stall the execution a bit longer, but he motioned the Dementors over into a contained space and Hermione released the wards so Harry could walk over to where Draco sat. The blonde had a slightly mystified look on his face, like he hadn't actually expected Harry to agree to this, but as Harry approached him he smirked.

"So Potter," he murmured, "I hope you know what an honour I'm giving you right now, stealing my first kiss."

"Shut up Malfoy," Harry growled. "You're the one asking me to do it."

"That's right. If I'm going to go down, I'll at least go down humiliating the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry rolled his eyes, bent over and quickly pressed his lips to Draco's, only catching the very corner of the blonde's mouth before pulling back. Draco stared up at him blankly.

"You call that a kiss, Potter? I may not be experienced in these things, but I know there's got to be more to kissing then that."

Harry scowled and then knelt down before Draco's chair so he wouldn't have to stoop over him. He had at least two inches of height over Draco, even while kneeling by his chair, so the position wasn't at all awkward when he leaned over once again to cover the boy's mouth with his own. He stayed longer this time, feeling how dry and chapped Draco's lips were underneath his own. Still, the mouth beneath his parted easily and Harry discovered that Draco tasted vaguely of pears and clover, dark but sweet. Draco's tongue pushed its way past Harry's lips and he suddenly felt dizzy and had to grip the arms of Draco's chair to keep himself from falling onto the other boy's chest. A strange buzzing started to sound in Harry's head and the warmth pulsing from Draco's mouth into his was frightening. Gasping, Harry tore his lips away from Draco's and staggered back to the safety of Hermione's wards.

"Are you okay?" Hermione looked so worried that even though the buzzing in Harry's head had increased, he felt like laughing.

"It was only a kiss," he said. "Even if it was from a Malfoy. It won't kill me."

Her frown did not lessen, but she stopped staring at him and focused on the blonde in the middle of the room who was now slumped in his chair, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the world.

"Well now that's over with," Fudge said. "We can start."

As the Dementors converged on the blonde, Harry shut his eyes, unable to watch. Hermione shuddered at his side, her nails digging into his arm. It was over very quickly.

Later that night, when Harry had stripped off his robes and climbed into bed, he was sure he could hear Draco's accusing voice in his ears.

'You've stolen everything from me Potter. I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life you bastard.'

It was a very long time before Harry could fall asleep.