Issues

Well aware that he was indeed heading into the proverbial lion's den in going to bat for Malfoy, Harry also knew that he would need to bypass the Head of the Aurors, Gawain Robards. He had never met the man that had taken over from Scrimgeour when he had become Minister of Magic a couple of years ago. The fact that there was no love lost between Harry and the Ministry meant that he would be better off dealing with the devil he knew, than one of whom he had no knowledge.

As he ascended the lift to the Minister's office, he thought carefully about what to say, allowing that charging into the office with his temper flaring would earn him no respect, nor would it enable him to get what he wanted. He almost smiled at that; Hermione would be so pleased. She had always been the one who made him stop and think before getting himself into trouble by just acting first and damning the consequences. Maybe he was learning.

First and foremost was to get those two guards removed from their positions. Harry didn't particularly care what happened to them; sacked or suspended and charged, it made no difference, as long as they were unable to exercise their brutality on other poor prisoners.

Secondly, he wanted to keep Malfoy in the holding cell until his trial. He was certain that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not going to linger over trials for the captured Death Eaters. And although he still wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to keep Malfoy out of Azkaban for a while longer, something in him was telling him that he needed to. He supposed it was that he needed to hear from Malfoy himself that he had not been going to kill Dumbledore. To have his own judgement of what he had seen and heard that night confirmed.

Yes, Malfoy had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and yes, he had Voldemort's brand on his arm, but...he had his reasons and Harry understood the length people went to to protect their family. How could he judge Malfoy on that? Snape also had the Mark on his arm, had killed Dumbledore, but had proved by his later actions to have been working for the Light after all.

As he stepped from the lift, he saw Scrimgeour closing the door to his office as if to leave for the day. Harry hadn't realised it was quite so late in the afternoon. It was fortunate that he had arrived in time, then.

"Minister," Harry called out across the foyer. Scrimgeour looked up with a flash of annoyance, before it was masked with a smile of greeting.

"Harry, my boy. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He advanced towards Harry, switching his briefcase from his right hand to his left, and extending his hand to Harry in greeting. Harry took it reluctantly.

"This isn't a pleasurable visit, Minister, I'm sorry to say."

Scrimgeour stared at him, perplexed.

"No," Harry continued, not wanting to go through stupid small talk. "The two Aurors guarding Malfoy took it upon themselves to beat and torture him until he was unconscious and then left him without medical attention, food or water. I want them removed." Harry was very careful to keep his voice from displaying the kind of anger that was building once more as he recounted the incident.

The Minister's face almost relaxed and he smiled. "Not to worry, Harry, these things happen in a war. I'm sure no one will care about one prisoner, especially a Death Eater, being roughed up a little."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "I care." He frowned angrily. "And he was more than 'roughed up' a little."

"Whatever." The Minister waved his hand at Harry, reminiscent of the way Malfoy had done earlier. It only made Harry angrier being dismissed so lightly. "No one will believe what he has to say anyway, so why bother with him? He's going to Azkaban after his trial and that will be that. You won't have to think about him ever again. He'll never leave there."

"So, you'll do nothing? Is that it? You'll condone the same treatment Voldemort handed out to those who disobeyed him, or to Muggles, because he's a Death Eater?"

"Why not? Those people held our world in terror. The things..." The Minister stopped and took a deep breath. "Just let it go, Potter. Let us deal with things from now on. You run off and..."

"I will NOT run off and let you 'deal' with things!" Harry exploded. "Malfoy is in that cell because I asked for him to be separated from the others and--" Scrimgeour interrupted him.

"So, this is guilt talking, is it?" He looked condescendingly at Harry, which only made Harry angrier.

"No, it's bloody well not! Why should we lower our standards of behaviour to those of Voldemort? Isn't that what we were fighting against?"

"I'm not going to discuss philosophies of war with you, boy, now leave it alone!" The Minster was now as angry as Harry.

"No, I won't. I can't. It's wrong, and if you won't do something about it, I will force you to."

"That would be very unwise, Potter."

"You leave me no option, Minister. I've put up my own wards around Malfoy's cell. No one will be able to enter without my permission. I want him kept there and guarded by Aurors of my choosing until the time of his trial. When he is fairly tried, he can go to Azkaban if that is his sentence. Until then, I want access to him whenever I see fit and I want him treated decently."

Harry stood there with his arms folded, suddenly unsure if he had overplayed his hand. There was a barely audible exhalation of acquiescence from the Minister.

"What will you do if I don't agree to those terms?"

"Go to the press. At this stage there may not be too many who care about the treatment of prisoners, but there will be enough backlash to make the Ministry look bad. To make your Ministry look bad."

"And in return, I get your cooperation...unlike earlier today?"

Harry sighed. Bloody hell, he had been trying to avoid this ever since sixth year. Fuck you, Malfoy, you had better have some bloody good explanations for me to make this worth it.

He nodded.

~~~~~~

An hour later he Floo'ed into the Burrow, a heap of files from the Ministry under his arm. When he arrived he was greeted with exclamations from everyone, claps on the back and the biggest bear hug he had ever received from Molly Weasley, who had tears in her eyes.

"Harry, we are so glad to see you, dear."

"Thanks, Molly," he replied, having given up calling them 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' after Dumbledore died and he'd basically been left carrying The Order.

He hugged her back one handed for a moment and then extracted himself and took the chance to look around at all these people that he loved. He was pleased to see Hermione there standing close to Ron, their arms linked, and he gave them a grin.

"Come through and have some dinner. We were just about to start. George, set another place," directed Molly and she was off into the kitchen to see about serving up dinner.

Everyone moved towards the table, Harry placing his files on a table for later.

"What do you have there, Harry?" Hermione enquired.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Only my social calendar for the next month."

At their questioning looks, he added, "Long story, I'll tell you all when we're sitting down."

"Our Harry has bowed to the pressure of celebrity," quipped Fred as George came back with a plate for Harry. They all took their places at the table and George pulled Harry's chair out with a flourish and a mock salute. Harry just rolled his eyes and sat down.

Most of the Weasley family was present. Ron told Harry that Ginny was still at the hospital with Dean and that Bill and Fleur had also opted to sit with Dean and hopefully help him adjust to the horrific scars and the changes that he would be faced with. Percy had been reconciled with his parents but did not live at home.

As Molly approached the table and began dishing out some delicious stew, Harry thought that he might as well tell the story of his day, now.

"I saw Malfoy today," he began. He heard Ron snort but Hermione elbowed him. He continued, telling them the extent of injuries that he had found on Malfoy's body and that it had been those set to guard him that had perpetrated this cruel act.

He looked around the table intently as he said this, gauging what sort of support he would have. There were shocked gasps from Hermione and Molly. The twins merely looked interested and Ron was shrugging.

"Harry, that's terrible." Hermione gasped.

"Oh, come on Hermione," Ron countered. "That git deserved anything he got."

"Ron! Don't be so ridiculous!" she almost shrieked, hitting his arm. "He was a prisoner, and even Wizarding Laws have rules on the treatment of prisoners."

Ah, Hermione, Harry smiled. He should have known, really. Of course she would know all about it. He made a mental note to ask her about them at some stage.

"And why should we care about that?" Ron shouted back. "I lost my brother to those scum, why in hell should I care what happens to Malfoy?"

Hermione's mouth opened to respond, her eyes filled with anguish and Harry could see that she was torn between allowing that Ron was still grieving for his brother, and upholding the Wizarding Law, so Harry quietly responded for her.

"Because if we don't treat people right, Ron, regardless of what they may or may not have done, then we are no better than Voldemort and this whole war has been for nothing."

"But..." started Ron.

"No, Ron." Harry forestalled him. "You know better than anyone how I grieved when Charlie was killed, he was like my brother too, but if we learn nothing from this war, then his death was wasted. His life fighting against Voldemort was wasted, as was every other death in this war."

There was quiet around the table at Harry's emphatic statement, and so he continued. "Until he has been proven guilty and sentenced to Azkaban, as far as I am concerned then he is entitled to be protected while he is in custody."

"Harry is quite right." Arthur spoke up. "I remember old Mr. Bicklemouth. He'd been held in Azkaban on suspicion of hexing Muggle cars to run themselves into trees at high speed and kill the occupants. He'd been denied medical treatment for an illness he claimed he had and he died in prison. It was found later that he had been innocent of all charges and his family sued the Ministry for many hundreds of thousands of Galleons. Remember, Molly? That was back when we were at Hogwarts, wasn't it? We had classes with his grandson Andrew."

Molly nodded, but this provoked a fresh outburst from Ron.

"Of course he's guilty, Harry. He's a fucking Death Eater!"

"Ronald Weasley! I will not have language like that at my dinner table, thank you, young man," Molly admonished, looking cross.

"We don't know that he's guilty," Harry said, smiling thanks at Molly as she passed him a plate of stew. He took a roll from the dish in the middle of the table and began to eat, the others following suit.

For a few moments there was quiet except for the clicking of cutlery against the dishes and Ron's very muted mutterings, but no one paid him too much attention.

"That's doesn't explain your social calendar, Harry," George reminded him, a mouthful of stew rendering his words a bit of a mumble and earning himself a glare from his mother.

Harry nodded and put his fork down.

"I had a bit of a run-in with Scrimgeour over Malfoy. I went to complain about his treatment and to get those guards disciplined, and he wanted to sweep it all under the rug. I think if I hadn't made a fuss those two might have got away with it."

"And so they should." Ron snorted.

"No!" Harry fairly shouted. "You didn't see him, Ron. I thought he was dead when I first entered that cell, and they just left him with no food or water or medical attention what so ever. He could have died!"

"And why would I care if he died? For that matter, why would you care?" Ron was yelling now too and he thumped his hand on the table in emphasis.

"Because, Ron, it's the right thing to do. Forget for a moment that this is Malfoy we're talking about. How is it right to do that to anyone and then leave them to die? You explain that to me!"

"Because he's as guilty as fu-hell!" Ron yelled back.

God, he didn't want to argue with Ron. He knew the red head could be as stubborn as a rock in some areas and dealing with the loss of Charlie gave him some justification for his bitterness. Harry felt it too. He was glad Voldemort was dead and he did not regret the deaths of those he had killed in the War, but it had to stop, or they would just find themselves in a never-ending war. Then the horror would never cease. Not for anyone.

Then Hermione jumped in and settled the subject.

"We thought Snape was guilty too, Ron." She paused to let her words sink in and watch Ron's anger subside. "Harry's right, we need to stop this or it will become a culture of hate and revenge and...I don't think I can live with that. Can you? What happens the next time you lose a family member? Go out and kill some more people? Come on, Ron...think about it."

There was silence at the table; everyone had stopped eating, for Hermione was right. She always was, and Harry loved her for it. All eyes were on Ron, waiting for his reaction. Ron for his part was obviously warring with himself, but with a great sigh he looked up at her and nodded.

"Okay, I get the point."

It seemed to relax the tense atmosphere and the noises of eating began once more.

"So, Harry, finish your story about why you now have a social calendar," Fred said.

"Yes, and tell us how we can crash the party and cash in on all the pretty women that will throw themselves at you," George added.

"Not to mention and whole new way to advertise our new products," Fred mused, a scheming look upon his face.

"Not to mention..." laughed George, somehow reading Fred's mind as it made no sense to Harry. How were they planning to do that?

"Go on, Harry," Arthur interrupted.

"Well," began Harry, a little unsure how what he was about to say would be received. "When the Minister refused to do anything about it, I threatened to go public. We made a deal. The guards are to be dismissed, Malfoy gets to stay where he is in a Ministry cell until his trial and in return, I get a social calendar for a month." He shrugged. "In the end, I figured that the press would be hounding me anyway, I may as well do it in some logical manner and get it over with. Plus it keeps the Ministry off my back, and the public on my side as a useful tool if I need it."

Hermione positively beamed. "Harry when did you grow up and learn to use your head?"

Harry laughed. "It might be a bit arrogant, but I had no choice. I had to throw my weight around a bit. It's about time I used some of this clout I supposedly have."

"Prepare to be crushed by the weight!" George clowned around holding his chest, and everyone laughed. Harry was pleased that the atmosphere had become relaxed once more and dinner finished with much laughter.

When they had all eaten their fill, Harry stood to help clear the dishes and cornered Molly in the kitchen.

"Molly, I was wondering if you could do me a favour," he asked.

"Certainly, Harry, dear, what is it?"

"Malfoy has been left in that cell for a couple of days now with no food or water and I know of no one who cooks better than you. I was hoping you'd make me up a few things I could take in to him when I go back shortly. Some of that stew would be wonderful." Harry smiled at her and watched her frown for a moment before a look of concern crossed her face.

"Of course, Harry, that poor boy. Fancy not even feeding him! I'll do it right away."

"Thank you, Molly, I knew I could count on you," Harry said as he hugged her. She pulled back and patted his cheek, a little flustered at the attention.

"You're family, Harry."

As she set to making up a basket, Harry went out to the living room and sat next to a quiet Ron.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry about before, I just..."

"I know, and I understand, really." Harry clapped him on the back.

"I hope you know what you're doing though. With Malfoy I mean. You know how I feel about him."

"Yes, but Ron, I have his Ministry file over in that pile and nowhere in there is any record of any Death Eater activity. There is mention that he received the Mark and I've seen that he has it, but he's not been implicated in any of the atrocities that have happened. None. Does that not surprise you?"

Ron's eyes widened, and then lowered to look at his feet. "I'm sure that he's just good at getting out of things. Doesn't change the fact that he is a Death Eater."

"Granted," Harry allowed, lapsing back into silence. Malfoy really was becoming an enigma of sorts. What was his story? If he had the Mark, but had not been involved in any Death Eater activity, what had he been doing all year?

Molly chose this time to come into the living room carrying what looked like to be a heavy basket. She placed it on Harry's knee, with a sigh of relief. It was very heavy indeed. "I've put a big dish of the stew in and it's charmed to stay hot. There's also some pumpkin juice and glasses, fruit and a large fruit cake. I think that will fill the poor boy up."

Harry moved the basket to the floor and stood, smiling at her in thanks.

"I'll also pop over to your flat and get out some decent clothes for you. You can't attend all those functions in your ragged old jeans and jumpers."

"What would I do without you, Molly?" Harry grinned, and she waved him off with a beaming smile.

He said goodnight to everyone, picked up the basket and tucked his files into the top. A handful of Floo powder tossed into the fireplace and he was back in the Ministry.

~~~~

He was relieved to see the two new Aurors he had requested on duty as he approached the cell block where Malfoy was being kept. He greeted them, signed in and headed to Malfoy's cell to take down the wards.

Once completed, he entered the cell and placed the basket on the table, noticing that Malfoy had not eaten the emergency rations he'd left earlier. A quick glance at the young man showed that Malfoy had probably not even woken since he'd fallen asleep due to the potion. He was still naked as he had been asleep by the time Harry had finished applying the creams and he had not the heart to wake him.

After removing the food from the basket, he went and knelt by the narrow bed, scrutinising the face that was almost buried into the flat pillow beneath it. The features were relaxed, but even in this state the face was angular and thin. His eyes traveled the length of Malfoy's back, down over his arse, Harry had to admit, it really was a nice arse, and seeing the faint traces of the scars from the burns, he once more noted how thin Malfoy was. Too thin to be healthy. "Where have you been all year, Malfoy," he whispered to himself, "to get yourself in a state like this?"

Shaking his head to clear the odd thought that he was actually feeling sorry for Malfoy from his brain, he gently shook his shoulder to wake him. He fell back on his arse on the floor when Malfoy suddenly shot up at the touch, gathered himself into the corner of the bed and looked around with wide, frightened eyes, trembling.

From the floor, Harry, held up his hand. "Malfoy, it's alright, it's only me," he said softly, reassuringly.

For a few moments more, the blond looked around the room before fixing his scared grey eyes on Harry's intently. They held gazes for what seemed like an age before Malfoy finally relaxed and the mask of his cool exterior shuttered his eyes once more.

"Damn, Potter, don't do that to me. I thought they'd come back to finish me off." Malfoy was still breathing slightly faster than normal but he moved back onto the middle of the bed, sitting with his legs over the side.

"Sorry, next time I'll wake you with a kiss like Sleeping Beauty shall I?" Harry laughed from the floor, still. Quickly he stood, genuinely sorry he had scared him.

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"Muggle fairy tale," Harry said in explanation, but in answer to Malfoy's questioning look, added, "A wicked Queen cursed a beautiful princess and put her to sleep for a hundred years until her Prince Charming came and kissed her awake." An odd blush had begun to settle on his cheeks as he realised the implications.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, and surprisingly his lips were curled into a smile and not a sneer. "Oh? I'm the beautiful princess and you're Prince Charming, I assume? That would be acceptable then," Malfoy teased once more holding Harry's eyes captive in an intense look that Harry was not quite sure how to read.

Harry blinked, not unaware of the charged atmosphere. "How are you feeling?"

Without removing his eyes from Harry, Malfoy stretched out his arms above his head, twisting and turning to see if there was any pain. There was none by the look in his eyes, Harry saw.

"I seem to be as good as new, Potter. You must have magic hands."

Malfoy's voice had become lower and was almost seductive and Harry reluctantly dragged his eyes from his stare and lowered them to his chest and lower, before blinking at what he was doing, blushing and looking away. Damn him.

"Lucky for you then, right?" he grinned, aware that it was forced. "Put your pants on and come eat. I've bought you some food."

"Food? Great, but I'm not letting those pants touch my skin, Potter. They're covered with blood if you didn't see that before and just...no." Malfoy stood up and walked unselfconsciously to the table to take a seat, and Harry was aware that his eyes were on him and following the graceful walk the whole time. "You'll just have to put up with me naked until you bring me some clean clothes, preferably some decent ones, or else I'll start to think you like seeing me naked," Malfoy quipped lightly, but a glance into his eyes, told Harry a different story. The comment was loaded with innuendo, just as the others had been.

"I've seen too many naked people to be overly concerned about whether or not your bony arse is naked, Malfoy."

The blond opened his mouth as if to make a smart retort, but closed it again and looked longingly at the dishes of food.

"Eat, Malfoy, and then we talk," Harry said as she sat opposite and poured them both some pumpkin juice and cut himself a piece of the fruit cake. Malfoy picked up a spoon and took the cover from the dish of stew and dug in, looking like he hadn't seen a decent meal in months.

From the sinfully appreciative groans that were coming from his mouth, Harry had to wonder if Malfoy was appreciating the food or flirting again. He ignored it, and the tight feeling it gave him in his chest, because it was obviously a game in which Malfoy thought that he might gain something from - his freedom perhaps. Not likely, not unless there was a bloody good reason.

Finally, after Malfoy had eaten more food than Harry thought could possibly fit in that thin frame and polished off the rest of the pumpkin juice, he leant back in the chair and sighed. "That was the best thing I think I've ever eaten."

Harry laughed. "I'll tell Molly Weasley that," he said. Oh the irony. Malfoy would hate that. He'd always hated the Weasleys with as much passion as he'd hated Harry.

But then Malfoy surprised him again, by opening his mouth to say something and then closing it with a shake of his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," Malfoy shook his head. "Though, I think...will you thank her for the food for me?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Okay, who are you and where is the real Draco Malfoy?"

The blond just smiled sadly. "I've always been here, just, most people didn't care to look past the obvious."

"Past what obvious?"

"The name, the expectations...I never really understood how much we had in common before...V-Voldemort threatened my family."

Harry nodded slowly, not sure if he agreed with him, as he had never thought about it, but allowed that he might have a point. Harry had wrangled with everything that came with his name and the expectations of him, too.

"You don't sound surprised that he threatened my family."

Harry shook his head. "I was there, that night. I saw what happened with you and Dumbledore."

Malfoy's eyes widened for a moment before he resignedly shook his head and looked away. "I should have known. The second broom, right? Why did you do nothing?"

"I couldn't do anything. Dumbledore used the split second he had to disarm you, to immobilise me instead. I was under my dad's Invisibility Cloak. He knew he was dying, Malfoy, but he didn't want you to be the one to kill him."

"Snape told me later," Malfoy confirmed. He looked up at Harry. "Did you trust him? Dumbledore, I mean."

"Yes, I did. We'd had differences in the past, but by then, he'd told me what I had to do and I did." Harry felt all this was very strange, sitting here with Malfoy who was naked, having a civilized conversation with him. It wasn't...bad...just strange.

"You wouldn't have killed him, would you?" Harry asked. This was one of the most important questions Harry needed answers to, but Harry thought that he already knew the answer to that one.

Malfoy looked back at Harry for a long time, then gave another small smile and shook his head. "I couldn't. All that year, I thought I could...to save my family, I knew I had to, but in the end I couldn't." Malfoy folded his arms on the table and rested his head upon them. "I really wanted to believe him...that he'd help them. And then, after, I was stuck with Snape. He took me back to Voldemort, I took my punishment and he let me live."

Silence fell then, Harry quietly relieved that he had been right in the end. After a few moments, Harry noticed that Malfoy's shoulders were shaking and he realised that the young man was crying. He was just about to say something, when Malfoy began talking again in a much more strained voice.

"But he killed mother anyway. Father, he said was too valuable to him and so he kept him alive. He used me as bait for my father as well. Not that father had ever had any qualms about killing and torturing Muggles, but he said that it never hurt to have some insurance."

A stifled sniff came from the bowed head, and Harry finally got up from his chair and walked around the table to the still sniffing Malfoy. Uncomfortably, he placed his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. He wasn't good at comfort, he never knew just exactly what to do, but he knew that losing ones mother was traumatic no matter who you were.

Harry was surprised however, when he felt one of Malfoy's hands reach up and grip his and hold onto it. He left his where it was, offering silent comfort as he cried, and after a while, a tear-streaked face looked up at him and whispered, "I know about Corpus Inflammare."