Rating:
15
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Slash
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 10/22/2006
Updated: 01/26/2009
Words: 143,258
Chapters: 29
Hits: 81,858

Black Sheep

Jackie Stevens

Story Summary:
"Black sheep is a derogatory colloquialism in the English language meaning an outsider or one who is different in a way which others disapprove of. This can be someone who has been shunned by others, or one who has chosen to be an outsider, due to actions and aims that separate them from the rest of the people or 'flock.'"

Chapter 26 - In Which There Is Pain

Chapter Summary:
Oh! Malfoy's back! Wahey!
Posted:
10/22/2008
Hits:
1,708

Standing quite literally knee deep in letters, Harry said doubtfully, "You know I'm not sure this is what McGonagall had in mind."

The headmistress had of course asked Filch to sort through all of Harry and Draco's incoming owls when they'd first arrived, but the surly caretaker seemed to have taken that to mean throwing every last letter in a disused closet near the Owlery. There were fragments of exploded Howlers covering the pile like a dusting of red confetti.

Harry and Hermione had come to check on the owls they'd seen approaching the castle and had found the debris of the past two weeks. Having nothing else to do but wait anxiously for an owl from the Ministry or Neville, they had begun to pick through the pile half-heartedly.

"Here's a nice one," Hermione told Harry, waving a letter at him from where she was sitting among the rustling mass. "'My name is Doris... may not mean much to you, but I was so happy to read in the Prophet that you seem to be well and living your own life... we're all so glad... hope you can find as much joy in your own life as you have brought to ours...'" She shot a hopeful smile in Harry's direction, but he wasn't looking at her. He was reading through letters with a furrowed brow and she could guess that they were not nice ones. Most all of the insulting letter were directed at Malfoy, not him, but Hermione was sure that made little difference to Harry right now.

She rustled unhappily through the top layer of letters, seeing if she could find any reactions to the morning's paper, such as they'd seen approaching earlier. She found a very strongly worded letter from a widow who wanted to let Harry know just what she thought of his defending a Death Eater, and she quickly shoved it deep down into the pile where Harry wouldn't see it. After several more letters, she finally found another one from that morning. She read through it and bit her lip, then passed it to Harry, not wanting to read it aloud.

Harry scanned the lines from an elderly wizard who told of how he'd lost his best friend in the war against Grindelwald. His darting eyes gradually slowed and he began to read the letter seriously.

I don't know you and I don't know what you or Malfoy had to do in the war. But I remember when we were on those front lines and it became hard to say which side was good and which side was bad. In the frenzy of it all, my friend and I found ourselves doing horrible things - just as horrible as the things we were supposed to be trying to stop - and justifying them because we were 'right.' It's something that people who have never been in war can never understand.

They may laud you as a hero, they may welcome you back, and then they forget you and return to their own small, peaceful lives - but they never understand the guilt and the knowledge that you carry within you. The things that you see on a battlefield and the things that you do to other human beings, these are never even dreamed of by the people who you save, and you begin to realise that these experiences have changed you into someone different from everyone around you.

Sometimes the only people who can understand that and give you some peace are those who lived through it with you, who are just as affected as you. Having a friend who understands you is the most precious gift you will ever find in this life, even if you live as long as I have. I had such a friend once and I lost him in that terrible war and I've never forgotten him. But even more so than the whole of my experiences in the war, he is the one loss that I cannot talk to other people about. I suppose I just miss my friend. I felt compelled to tell you about him, however. It's just the ramblings of a strange old man, but I feel as if you might understand.

My friend was not perfect. He was never going to save the world. The world may not miss him - but I miss him and my life will never be the same because he is gone. I'm sorry to be so presumptuous but I suspect you are the same. I don't know what exactly I hoped to express to you in writing this letter, but I don't want you to give up. My friend died, but your friend is still alive. There is still hope for you. Hold onto it.

Hermione noticed the silence stretching on for far longer than it should take to read a single letter and she looked at Harry from the corner of her eye. He was still staring at the letter, though obviously not reading. She chose not to say anything and continued sorting through the letters, placing the ones she thought worth keeping into one of the bags she'd conjured up and putting the rest of them into the other, much larger, bag she'd created.

She continued to sort silently for over ten minutes, the only sound in the small room the rustling of parchment letters, and a handful more owls dropped in before one of the ministry's sharp-looking black owls swooped in through the window self-importantly. The bird flapped its wings powerfully in Harry's face, driving his hair back and making him look up in surprise as the old man's letter was blown from his hands. Moving as if in a daze, he held out his forearm for the owl to perch on and when it did so, he gently tugged the letter free from its feathered leg. With a shrill cry, the ministry's owl leapt away, leaving Harry with a set of red scratches on one arm and an envelope addressed to him in his other hand.

Hermione moved closer, watching impatiently as Harry continued to stare at the thick black lettering on the outside of the envelope. Finally she said softly, "Go on, Harry!"

He opened his mouth but said nothing. He moved as if to hold the letter out to her, but then he pulled it back towards himself and, lips pressed together tightly, he hooked one finger under the envelope's flap and tore it open. The shaking in his hands was almost imperceptible as he unfolded the letter and read it aloud to Hermione.

"'Dear Mr Potter,'" he said in a strained voice, swallowing hard before he continued. "'You are hereby summoned to appear for questioning regarding your connection to Mr Draco Malfoy and your involvement in his recent actions. Your presence is requested at the Ministry of Magic immediately.'" He looked up at Hermione. "That's all it says."

Fighting not to show any alarm on her face, Hermione said as briskly as she could manage, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

"You're coming with me?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Of course!" Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him, just as she had when they were mere teenagers. "You don't think I'd let you walk into that mess alone!"

A hint of a smile crept across his face and he started wading through the letters towards the door. "Let's go then."



They Flooed to the Ministry this time; though Harry hated to travel by Floo, it was the quickest route and he wanted to find out what was going on as quickly as possible. As soon as they stepped from one of the many, many large fireplaces that lined the Ministry's atrium, a number of Aurors rushed to meet them. They'd been scattered about the hall, watching the Floo grates closely. They seemed unsure what to do about Hermione, but two of them flanked Harry on either side, slapping firm hands onto his shoulders, while another searched his pockets and drew out his wand.

Luckily, Neville was not far behind the unknown Aurors. Unluckily, Dean was not far behind him. Harry looked from Neville's cloudy expression to Dean, standing behind him with unreadable eyes. He decided to direct his question to the whole group of tense Aurors in general. "What exactly is going on here?"

Dean spoke up, still apparently in charge of things. "Thanks to the spectacle you've made, we're having to wrap this mess up as quickly and quietly as possible. We'll be questioning both you and Malfoy today before deciding whether to take you both before the Wizengamot."

"Both..." Harry dared to look at Neville. "Does that mean Malfoy is here?"

Neville didn't give any signs of even understanding Harry's question, but Dean gave him an answer which sent his stomach plummeting. "Oh, he's here. At least, physically."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked angrily, trying to swallow the sick feeling in his throat. "Just what the hell do you mean by that?"

Dean only turned away, flicking his hand to gesture that his Aurors should follow him, and Harry was propelled deeper into the Ministry, Hermione walking stiffly next to him.

They arrived in a different area than any Harry had ever been in before. He gave no attention to where they were, though, and he simply let the Aurors push him along in whatever direction they chose, still wandless and powerless to fight them. He was somewhere else entirely; his heart was racing and every inch of skin on his body seemed to be prickling when he thought that Draco might be around any one of these corners - but his mind was furiously combating the possibilities that Dean's statement had given birth to.

Dean opened a door off of a hallway that looked like every other hallway to Harry, and the cadre of Aurors filed in, Harry and Hermione swept up with them. It was another hallway, with several doors leading off on each side. They were herded into one of these rooms and inside they found a nervous-looking young man. He exclaimed when he saw Dean. "Mr Thomas, sir! I've been sent from Superintendent Hornblower and he requests your presence immediately. There's a breaking case that he wants you in on."

Cursing under his breath, Dean shoved back past Harry and the others, and he followed the young man back out of the room, unable to ignore the summons from a higher-ranked officer. That left Neville as the most senior person in the room and he wasted no time at all. "Right then. Lovejoy, Singh, I'd like the two of you to patrol the exterior hall; no one comes near this wing but us. We can't afford any more cock-ups or leaks on this one, lads. Kirk, check on Malfoy and see that he's ready for questioning, then go down to headquarters and report that we have Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy all assembled, and that Ms Granger is here as well. Cannon, Lee, and Thewles, go after Inspector Thomas and see if there's anything you can do to help with that new case. And Kennedy, I'll ask you to fetch some tea. No reason we can't be civil about this whole thing."

As the lower Aurors filed reluctantly out of the room, Harry looked at Neville expectantly, but his friend's kind eyes were dark with warning. Only after the door closed after the last of his juniors did he start speaking, and then he spoke quickly and quietly.

"Hornblower is doing me, and you, a big favour by pulling Dean off for as long as he can. There's no case, but he's going to create as much confusion as he can. Lovely fellow. I'm relieved that they brought Malfoy out, but I know Dean wouldn't even let you near him, so this is the least I could do." He walked to the door and peeked out into the hall. Once he was sure all of Dean's Aurors had gone, he waved to Harry. "Come on!"

Harry followed immediately, rushing after Neville as the bulky Auror hurried down the hall. They ended up in front of another door that was indistinguishable from the one they'd come from and every other door they'd passed on the way, but Neville seemed to know just which one it was. He nodded towards Harry expectantly and Harry froze.

What was waiting on the other side of that door? Malfoy was right there, mere feet separating them, but was he same Malfoy who Harry had been so captivated by the past several weeks? Had Dean only been taunting Harry or had he been telling the truth? And even if Draco were somehow all right - would he forgive Harry for letting him be taken away, for leaving him in Azkaban?

Harry was more afraid of opening that door than he had been of facing Voldemort. Once he opened it, he would know if it was even possible for Draco to come back to him or if he was already too late. As long as he didn't open it, as long as he didn't know for sure, there was hope.

But Neville was standing there, risking punishment to give Harry this chance, this poisonous gift of knowledge, and so Harry had no choice but to reach out, turn the doorknob, and slip into the bare room where Malfoy was being held.

He pulled the door shut behind him and leaned against it, not daring to step further into the room. It was small and white and bare; there was a single white-topped table in the middle, with several metal chairs around it. In one of those chairs, wearing what looked like a set of white pyjamas, was Draco Malfoy, limp and staring blankly forward. His eyes slid to Harry but he showed no reaction. His lips were dry and bloodless and he looked as if he'd lost a stone in the past week, though that shouldn't have been possible. He blinked, purplish bruised-looking lids hiding his red-rimmed eyes for a moment, and then he said softly, "I know my excuse for looking like shit, but what on God's green earth is yours?"

Harry sagged against the door and, as his knees gave out, he slid to the floor. Hysteria was bubbling up inside of him at the sound of Malfoy's low voice. It was Malfoy. This was the voice he'd missed in his ear. This was the presence that had left his life lacking.

"Seriously, Potter." The voice came again, and Harry closed his eyes, savouring every tone and imagining that he was listening to that bewitching voice anywhere other than here. "If you're supposed to be here to fucking save me, you're not making a very good show of it." Malfoy's tone was sharp, but Harry felt sure that he knew what Draco was really feeling at that moment: relief, hope, fear - and probably a bit of smug pride, knowing him, because of how obviously miserable Harry was without him.

Harry looked up at him, his burning green eyes boring into Draco's grey, and he didn't know who moved but suddenly Malfoy's chair had been overturned, the distance between them was gone, and they were falling together, clutching each other desperately as they hit the ground. They fell into a kiss that felt like cool water after being lost in a desert and their hands roved over each other, as if to confirm that everything was still right and as they remembered. They gripped each other so tightly there would be marks for days.

Before Harry could do anything more than mumble Draco's name incoherently, he felt those thin hands fumbling against him and heard the unmistakable clattering of a belt being undone. Using whatever strength he had left in those wiry arms, Draco flipped Harry over, tugging at his pants. For the briefest moment, the thought of just what they were doing, and where, crossed Harry's mind. But as soon as it had crossed, it was gone. Who cared where they were? They both understood that this could possibly be the last time they'd ever see each other, the last chance they would ever have to be together like this. More than that, they both simply needed it at that moment. It was hard and rushed and painful and they both came in just minutes, unable to hold onto their control any longer.

Afterwards, breathing hard, Harry managed to gasp out, "'ope 's a siln' s'arm."

Draco laughed for the first time in a week as he asked, "What was that?"

Harry lifted his face from the cold floor and said more clearly, "I hope there's a silencing charm."

Hugging Harry to him tightly, Draco spoke softly into his ear, "I should think so. They wouldn't want anything that goes on in these rooms to get out." He nibbled gently at Harry's ear. "I'd be more worried about someone watching if I were you, though. They always have observation rooms for these cells. Haven't you ever watched a Hollywood movie? Wonky mirrors and all that."

Grinning against the tile, Harry felt for a moment like everything was right in the world when Draco was trying to get a rise out of him. All he said was, "I hope they enjoyed the show." He rolled over, feeling Draco slip out of him, so that he could look up into that face and record every moment of this into his mind forever.

Draco still looked like he'd been through hell, but Harry suspected he didn't look much better himself. He watched as Draco drank in the sight of him just as desperately as he was doing, and he sighed as the blond put a shaking hand on his cheek. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to do this again," Draco said softly, in that voice of his that seem so devoid of emotion only when he was feeling too much to bear. He tried to smile again. "I hear you went to the press for me?" He searched Harry's eyes. "You must have hated that."

Harry reached up and dug his fingers into that silky blond hair that he loved so much. Cradling Draco's head in his hands, he admitted, "I did. I hated having to talk about my personal experiences to someone I didn't know, and knowing that my words would be printed for every stranger in the Wizarding world to read and judge. But," he paused, straining up to plant a kiss on Draco's aristocratic nose. "But I didn't hate talking about you. I didn't hate remembering everything we'd been through, even if it was painful to think that..."

"That we might not ever get that back?" Draco finished for him softly. "We're not out of the woods yet, Potter."

Harry flinched as Draco reminded him of the reality that waited for them just outside the door. "I don't care," he said stubbornly. "If this doesn't work, then I will tear down every brick of Azkaban until I find you again." Now that he was face to face with Draco and looking down at the dark prospect of losing him again, Harry knew that he would do it. "We'll change our names, our faces, we'll go live in the wilds of bloody Siberia if we have to."

Draco tried to grin, but he failed. "You think I'd live in bloody Siberia just to be with you?"

"Yes," Harry said with absolute conviction. He pulled Draco down until his lips brushed the other man's and all he could see in front of him were those grey eyes, and he whispered into Draco's mouth, "We're going to make it through this, Draco Malfoy."

Relaxing just enough to sink into that kiss, Draco drank in the strength of Harry's resolve. He knew that believing it now would only make it worse when he went back to Azkaban, as he didn't doubt he would. But for this moment at least he wanted to turn off his cold logic, forget every tortuous, soul-rotting second of the past six days, and believe that Harry could save him.

Then came an urgent knock on the door and they both flinched. The real world was approaching and quickly. Harry scrambled to his feet, pulling Draco up as well. Cursing under his breath, he pulled up his jumper and grabbed onto the shirt he was wearing beneath it, tearing off a large piece of fabric with frantic strength. He did his best to clean up the mess they'd created, wiping himself and Draco clean before doing what he could for the floor. Then he tugged his jeans back up and quickly did his belt with badly shaking hands. He stuffed the damp piece of shirt in his back pocket, tugging his jumper down to cover the bulge and feeling an odd breeziness where his stomach was now bare beneath the jumper. Finally Harry looked Draco in the face.

His eyes petrified, Draco pointed out weakly, "That was my shirt that you just destroyed, you know."

Harry grabbed him again and in between kisses, he whispered, "I can't..."

The door banged open and Draco slid instantly out of his hold, until there was a foot of space between them and they were left grasping each other's forearms with white fingers.

Dean stood in the doorway and looked over them suspiciously. Neville was right behind him, saying matter-of-factly, "I don't see what the harm is in letting them talk for a moment. Neither has a wand and I was outside the door the whole time." He followed Dean into the room, looking about it surreptitiously, and he continued, "Besides which, your Aurors were patrolling the hall. There's no way they could have done anything."

Hermione leaned across the open doorway and raised a knowing eyebrow at the men's dishevelled state. She said mildly, "Everything seems in order, Dean. All right, Malfoy?"

The blond summoned a weak smirk for her, knowing that she still didn't like him all that much but that she was willing to put on a show of a united front for the Aurors.

Dean waved his Aurors in and they grabbed Harry and pulled him, protesting violently, away from Malfoy. "What are you doing? Let go of me!" He managed to shrug off one of the Aurors, who seemed a bit uncomfortable about manhandling Harry Potter, and with one arm free he took a swing at the Auror holding onto his other arm.

"Potter!" Draco's warning came but it was too late. Dean had drawn his wand and he immobilized Harry, leaving him unable to fight or speak or even turn for one last look at Draco's face before the Aurors hauled him back out of the room. Draco watched silently as he was dragged away.

Dean closed the door firmly, leaving only himself, Neville, and Draco in the quiet room. "Now," he said in an unfriendly tone, "I think it's time you answered some questions, murderer."

Sighing silently, Neville took a seat at the table.



In the other room, Hermione and Harry were sitting at an identical table, staring at a pot of tea. The Aurors had allowed Hermione to unfreeze her friend, but they had kept their own wands fixed on the two of them ever since. Hermione didn't doubt that her wand would soon be confiscated as well. Still she tried to be the calm one as she told a tense Harry, "They're just questioning him, Harry. It's perfectly normal and exactly what we wanted. Besides, Neville's in there; he'll make sure things are done properly."

Harry continued to wordlessly clench and unclench his fists as he eyed the Aurors hatefully and they returned the favour. Hermione sighed unhappily.



In Draco's room, Dean had thrown down a copy of the Daily Prophet on the white table. He leaned in close to Malfoy's face and said softly, "So, you're just 'a bit soft' and you didn't want to hurt anyone - is that right? That's the story your little boyfriend is telling everyone."

This was hardly the insult that Dean thought it was and Draco ignored him, his eyes scanning across the interview Harry had given. It spoke of painful things - painful for both of them - but Draco smiled a bit to see how Harry spoke of him.

"Are you happy to be described as a snivelling coward?" Dean asked cruelly when he saw Draco's lips had twitched into a smirk. "You couldn't help yourself - you couldn't even help your mother." Draco stiffened and the smile disappeared from his mouth, but he still didn't say anything to Dean's baiting him. "I heard," Dean said softly, coming around to speak into Draco's ear, "that they raped her in front of you, before they killed her." He came over to whisper in the other ear: "I hear they raped you, too, after you were captured. Sweaty old Death Eater after Death Eater, shoving their cocks up your arse and down your throat until you bled out of every hole."

Neville cleared his throat, looking meaningfully towards the quill that was automatically scribbling down every word they said and every move they made. Of course, what Dean had said hadn't yet been enough to warrant any sort of discipline - not when it was directed at a Death Eater. But it was the most Neville could do; that and hope that Dean cared more about his career than torturing Malfoy.

Dean seated himself in the chair opposite Draco and asked conversationally, "Is that why Potter seems so eager to get you out of here? Are you his plaything now, instead of the Death Eaters'? Do you take his big Golden Boy cock up the arse?" Draco's eye twitched and Dean watched closely. "Is he such a hopeless fuck that his only pleasure in life is shagging the only person more pathetic than him? Is that the 'help' you gave him during the war?"

Draco leapt to his feet, his chair crashing to the ground. "Don't you say a word about Potter in front of me, you ungrateful, weak, whiny little shit. You're trying to be the big hero now, eh? Big bad Auror, hauling in a magicless squib!" He laughed in Dean's face, his eyes cold. "Fuck you. You don't know the first thing about the war. You spent it hiding in a fucking castle. You don't even deserve to talk to Harry. You don't even deserve to talk to me."

When would silly lions ever learn to stop poking at snakes?

Draco spoke in as silky and dangerous a tone as Severus Snape had ever wielded as he told Dean, "Thank God your parents aren't around to see what a pathetic piece of trash you've turned out to be. It almost makes me glad I killed them."

Dean launched himself across the table and Neville followed with a shout. He tried to stop Dean as his fellow Auror attempted to beat the living hell out of their charge and he found himself no match for the other man's mindless rage. He rushed to the door and threw it open, bellowing for help from the other Aurors. The two who were on guard with Harry and Hermione rushed out immediately, eager to do anything that might be more exciting than glaring at Harry Potter, especially if it might involve reprimanding the last free Death Eater. What a story to tell the crowds at the Leaky Cauldron!

Hermione didn't even have a chance to catch Harry's eye before he was off after them. He heard the sound of a struggle coming from the open door down the hall and he blew past the Aurors, arriving to see Neville struggling with Dean, who was kicking wildly at Draco despite the headlock that was turning his face an angry purple. Harry dove into the mess, dragging Malfoy beyond Dean's reach and then putting himself in Dean's face.

"If you ever touch him again," he spat furiously, "I will end you." He let Dean see the full extent of his seriousness and bore into him with merciless green eyes, until the Auror felt as if he were staring down the Killing Curse itself. Harry threatened him softly, "And believe me when I say that killing you would be like swatting a fly compared to Voldemort."

Everyone in the room expected Dean, so famous for his temper ever since his Muggle parents had been killed by Death Eaters, to get even more inflamed and attack Harry next. In fact, all of the Aurors were edging nearer and reaching out to grab whatever bit of him they could to restrain him. To their shock, though, Dean had gone wan because of whatever he had seen in Harry's eyes. He stopped struggling against Neville and said stiffly, "Watch yourself, Potter. You haven't officially been charged with anything yet, but threatening an Auror will find you a cell of your own if you aren't careful."

The two men watched each other warily, both coming to realize that they didn't know each other at all, if they ever had. Looking over Harry's shoulder at Malfoy, who was trying to stop the blood oozing from his nose and split lip with the thin sleeve of his white suit, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black key. He threw it at Malfoy, who reached out and caught it, just as Harry would have, just as any former Seeker would have. He disappeared immediately, undoubtedly back to Azkaban.

"No!" Harry howled, slamming his fist into the table with an audible crack that everyone in the room winced at. Ignoring the pain in his probably broken hand, he screamed at the room in general, "No! What is ever enough for you people?! I saved your fucking lives, I saved the whole fucking world that you live in! What more do I have to fucking do before I get to be happy for once?!"

Dean managed to keep his control in the face of Harry's pain and he said in a clipped tone, "Malfoy has been sent back to Azkaban. Tomorrow, the three of you - that's right, Hermione, I want to know more about your part in all of this as well - will report back here and be questioned under Veritaserum. If you refuse, so help me, I will have every one of you stashed away in Azkaban before we get this mess of yours cleaned up." He stepped closer to Harry and said in a low tone, "Be careful, Potter, or I will be the one to end things."


I missed Malfoy. Did you miss Malfoy? God, I love 'im. Harry's just useless without him around.