Issues

It wad odd, Harry reflected, only now as he'd made a temporary truce with Scrimgeour and was thinking that eventually he'd make an efficient minister, had this supposedly damaging information come to light. He almost laughed at the irony and wondered if he'd be able to withhold the information and give Scrimgeour the chance to prove himself.

Then he cursed himself for his arrogance in thinking he had any right to judge anyone or the power to make some sort of decision over someone else's career and livelihood. He had to stop thinking he was in charge of anything. That way led to all sorts of power struggles and there was no way Harry wanted to go there. He'd just as soon slip away unobtrusively into the background and live his life in quiet peace.

Still, he'd asked Arthur to obtain the information, and having information always enabled you to operate from an empowered position if necessary.

"What have you managed to find out, Arthur?" Harry asked, sitting himself down on a chair around the table in the kitchen.

Arthur was just pouring himself a cup of tea and Harry indicated he'd like one also. Molly added another cup to the four at the table and Arthur poured as he spoke.

"I was having a pleasant discussion with Amelie, the Minister's secretary. I'd noticed that she'd been looking more and more stressed and anxious over the last few days and with what I'd told you about those Howlers, I thought to keep a closer eye on her."

Arthur paused and handed around the cups of tea to Ron and Hermione, Molly and himself, as they all nodded, remembering Arthur had spoken about mysterious Howlers before. "It seems to have worked because she confided in me today."

Harry put some milk and sugar in his tea and stirred, watching Arthur and waiting for the story to continue. Ron wasn't so patient.

"Dad, get to the story, will you?" he exclaimed.

"All right, all right, I will," Arthur replied, stirring his own tea. Harry saw Hermione's arm sneak out to rest on Ron's thigh. "It appears that our Minister Scrimgeour has been having an affair with Wilfreda Hemlock."

"Wait, the Wilfreda Hemlock? The one who is next in line to head the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked, shocked. Arthur nodded.

"More importantly," Arthur continued. "Amelie confided to me that Wilfreda has a distant cousin married to Theodore Nott Snr."

Harry took a deep breath. The Nott family association with the Dark was fairly well known. And while Theo had died in an ambush gone wrong several months before the end of the war, Theo Snr had been captured in the last battle and was now ensconced in Azkaban awaiting trial.

"I can see a potentially serious conflict of interests here," Harry said, frowning and not a little shocked by this new knowledge.

"Not with Scrimgeour," Hermione argued, "but with Wilfreda herself. She's going to have to be seen to be impartial and fair in the upcoming trials seeing she has connections to the Nott family. We can't be the only ones who know this. It's a wonder she's still seen as the second in line for the top job."

"I think that most families, pureblood families at least, could find someone in their family tree that went Dark," Molly countered.

"So, we don't think this will be a problem for Scrimgeour?" Ron asked, confused.

'If it becomes public knowledge that Scrimgeour is cheating on his wife with a family member of a known Dark family, then his credibility will be damaged," Harry said. "But, apart from that, I don't think it can do any real damage to his career, can it?" He looked to Arthur for an answer.

"It depends on how you look at the situation," Arthur replied. "These things are meant to remain discreet for a reason," he continued and Harry saw Molly nodding. "It's frowned upon; seen as weakening the moral fortitude of the wizarding world, especially among the pureblood families."

Hermione bristled, Harry could see it. "This isn't to do with maintaining blood supremacy is it? Not having children that weaken the blood line, introducing 'dirty blood' to the family tree?" He could hear the sarcasm in her voice and he didn't blame her. Molly was quick to reply.

"No, no, dear. Nothing like that at all. It's just exactly as Arthur said."

She looked mollified at that. Harry sighed and finished his tea. "Well, I don't think that the public need to know about this just yet. I can't see it having any influence over him doing his job and I'm not concerned with his private life. Yes, we could use it as leverage for some minor matter, but I hardly think it's going to work in making his have the laws on Veritaserum changed."

"I agree," Hermione added and Ron nodded as well. Molly huffed and looked cross.

"Is this the type of person we want running our Ministry?" she asked crossly. "The man has the morals of an alley cat. I'm not sure he is the best person to be Minister." She sat back and crossed her arms.

Harry wisely left it alone. There was nothing he could do about it in any case. Releasing the information to the press would only destabilise the Ministry more and make it even harder to achieve what they all wanted.

Besides, if he attached his name to any more 'leaks' to the press, it would appear as if he wanted to take over the Ministry and run the place himself. Which was so far from the truth it was laughable. Some things these people would have to do on their own. As soon as he managed to obtain Draco's release and the articles in the Prophet did their job to get the law repealed, then he was off and out of the spotlight for the rest of his life. He'd done enough, surely?

After bidding them all good night and making plans for the next day, Harry headed to bed feeling unaccountably lonely and wishing he could feel Draco's warm, solid body next to him. He wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to provide comfort and support to Draco, or the other way around.

***

The Daily Prophet, August 17^th, 1999.

Part Three of our expose into the mistreatment of suspects by Ministry personnel.

By Peter Sully.

This is the third article in the series about the poor victims of the Ministry of Magic's outdated and cruel law regarding the forced use of Veritaserum on suspected criminals. Today's story hits very close to home and will go a long way to explaining why I, along with many other decent, hardworking, ordinary wizards and witches, are dedicated to having this archaic and brutal law abolished.

Matthew is one of the many silent victims of the enforced use of Veritaserum; one of those you probably normally wouldn't read about because he died. He's a hidden victim; one that the Ministry can sweep under the rug, because he's not here to defend himself, nor is he physical proof of the dangers of this serum.

Matthew was a twenty-five year old wizard with a pureblood heritage. His family consists of three brothers, all older than himself and two sisters who are younger. The six siblings grew up in a modest but comfortable manor house in rural Norfolk with their parents, James, a chef running the family restaurant, and Mary who manages the gardens that produce the food for their restaurant.

When it was confirmed in 1996 that Voldemort had returned, several family members immediately signed up to help, ensuring that Mary and the sisters remained safely at home. Two of the brothers chose the Order of the Phoenix while Matthew and another brother offered their services to the Ministry's forces and were stationed in a secret location in London, under the South bank of the Thames.

After several months of inactivity, Matthew became bored with the semi military style life. Voldemort had all but disappeared and it seemed like the whole thing was as much a storm in a teacup as it was a declaration of war by the forces of the Dark. Unfortunately, the Ministry would not release Matthew and the rest of his team to return home and Matthew became sullen and rebellious, as sometimes happens to young people when forced into inactivity.

He began to regularly leave his post and associate with many undesirable elements, mostly criminals from the dark corners of Knockturn Alley. As a relief to the boredom he begun providing the rest of his section with illegally made potions, which drugged them and allowed them to forget the tedium their lives had become. Matthew and his bother tried to obtain leave to visit their family, but were refused.

It was the loss of a brother in the Order of the Phoenix ranks and the subsequent refusal by the Ministry to allow Matthew and his brother to attend the memorial service that pushed Matthew into becoming reckless with his safety.

When he was eventually caught and interrogated by the Ministry, he refused to give the names of those that had supplied the illegal potions, in fear of retribution. He was prepared to accept his punishment and incarceration, however, the Ministry decided to enforce the Veritaserum law and had several Aurors hold him down while they administered the truth serum and forced the names of the suppliers from him.

Matthew was fortunate in that he suffered no immediate side effects from the serum, although he feared for his life seeing as he'd had to give up all the information he had on the network of illegal potions suppliers.

Less than a week into his stay in Azkaban, he was found dead in his cell. He'd been strangled by someone with immense strength and huge hands. He'd fought as hard as he could; there was blood and skin under his fingernails, but he died just the same. His murderer has never been caught.

Muggles have some hard and fast civil rights when it comes to law. One of which is that everyone has the right to remain silent. The right to remain silent should be a basic human right. Matthew had admitted his guilt, was prepared to serve out his time in Azkaban for his crime, and the Ministry should not have violated this basic human right because they wanted an easy way around finding the evidence themselves.

Matthew died because of this law.

You may ask how I uncovered all this information on someone who is dead.

Matthew was my brother and I miss him like I'd miss a limb. My bother did not deserve to die because of Ministry incompetence.

If you'd like to see the abolition of this law, please owl the Ministry and voice your opinion. Nothing can change unless we, the people, demand it to change. If we sit by and watch as people die needlessly, or are incapacitated as in the previous stories in this series, then we are as guilty and as culpable as the Ministry.

In 1995, Harry Potter tried to tell us that Voldemort was back, but the Ministry didn't believe him and many, many people died as a result of their inactivity.

Will we sit by again and do nothing?

Peter Sully

Guest Correspondent

Harry skipped the grainy pictures of a young Matthew Sully, put down the paper and sipped thoughtfully at his coffee for several moments. Being reminded of what things were like during the non-war as he'd termed it always made him feel vaguely unsettled. The familiar slide of guilt through his mind annoyed him; rationally he knew he couldn't have done anything any faster or better or quicker. His emotional side, though, still felt regret and sorrow for each death he'd been unable to prevent.

Sully's story about his brother came at a perfect time, Harry thought. This was a story about a young man who had died as a direct result of this law and it might touch a few more people; make them feel this was too much. There was only two clear days left before Draco's trial. Time enough still to have the law changed. He sighed and reminded himself to never give up hope, no matter how dim it appeared. There was still time for everything and he couldn't give up now. If worst came to worst then he'd offer his own memories for Draco's trial and although that would only go so far in having an ameliorating effect on Draco's sentence, it was better than nothing.

Perhaps the fact that Draco had been beaten while in custody might also help. Harry hated feeling useless and frustrated, and hanging around here casually nibbling his breakfast while he drank coffee and read the paper wasn't helping Draco at all. Sighing, he stood and dropped his cup into the sink for washing. It was too early for anyone else to be up and they all had their own tasks for the day, so there was nothing for it but to get on with his own.

***

The melancholy feeling from the night before was still with him for some reason and when he entered Draco's cell to find the blond still lying on the bed asleep, he smiled softly and remembered how he'd wanted Draco's solid presence beside him. He looked so young lying there asleep. The way his lashes tenderly rested on his cheeks and the way the worry lines around his eyes and mouth - which an eighteen-year-old shouldn't even have - softened and virtually disappeared, all made Draco look like a boy. There was no trace of the experience of fear in grey eyes that had seen way too much heartache and pain and terror. It was all hidden behind startlingly innocent looking eyelids.

Mindful of how afraid Draco had been last time he'd woken him suddenly, Harry took care in waking him. Draco for his part stretched as if unaware he was not alone, then suddenly becoming aware of it, snapped his eyes open. He immediately relaxed when he saw it was Harry and he smiled and held up his arms.

"If you're going to wake me from my sleep, the least you can do is give me a hug good morning," Draco said, voice husky from sleep.

Harry smiled back and slid onto the bed beside Draco, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling beside him and wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder as he snuggled close.

"Who'd have ever thought a few weeks ago we'd be like this," Harry mused, comfortable and warm with Draco snuggled up to his side.

"I'd hoped," Draco admitted. "It was the only thing kept me going at times, the hope that one day you might see me for something more than a worthless Death Eater."

"I'm glad I do."

"Me, too. Short lived though this will be."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to face it, Harry, we're not going to find that diary. Snape hid it too well and we're running out of time. I'm resigned to the fact that I probably only have a few days left and then it will either be The Kiss for me or Azkaban. And we both know what will happen to me in there."

Harry's arm tightened around Draco's shoulder. "I don't want to hear you speaking like that, hear me? We still have time and I will not let you go to Azkaban. Bloody hell, Draco, don't give up on me now!"

"It's really all right, Harry. I'm better off being resigned to it. It...doesn't hurt so much this way."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, rolling over and lying on top of Draco, pinning him to the bed. "Don't you dare do this! We still have two whole days and I'll not spend them trying to get you to hope again. That is wasting time. Time we could be spending looking through Snape's place finding that diary!"

Harry was completely aware of Draco's still thin body under his and how warm and good it felt. He was also aware of Draco's past and how this might be very threatening for him. He looked into Draco's eyes and saw only resignation and blank acceptance. Damn. That was worse than seeing the fear. It meant Draco had already retreated behind that mask he'd had to perfect while being held by Voldemort.

"Harry, let me go," Draco whispered quietly.

"No." Harry wasn't sure of Draco meant physically or not but he wasn't about to do either of them. Part of him wanted to see that fear in Draco again, just to know that he hadn't completely lost himself.

"It won't make any difference, Harry, we both know that in the end I'll get what's coming to me. I'm a whore of a Death Eater and I don't deserve anything else."

Harry braced himself on his elbows, using his hands to cradle Draco's face. He was worried; he'd not seen Draco this despondent since, well, he'd not seen Draco this bad, ever, and he wondered what on earth he was supposed to do to snap him out of it.

"Draco, please, don't do this to me," he whispered, placing kisses on the corners of his mouth. "I've just found you, don't leave me now." He didn't even care how much he sounded like he was pleading.

"I-I don't want to," Draco replied, closing his eyes at the assault by Harry's lips. "But isn't it better to accept it now than be wrenched even worse when it happens?"

"I don't think you know me very well," Harry said with a soft laugh. "I never give up, Draco, if I had then Voldemort would still be alive. Even when he had me in a no win situation, I still fought." As Harry spoke his voice became stronger and more determined. "Aren't you worth fighting for? Aren't I?"

Draco blinked under him, then and looked up into Harry's eyes. Harry pressed further; there was doubt in Draco's eyes now. "I wouldn't be doing all this if I didn't think you were worth fighting for. I want you free and I want you with me. Isn't that worth fighting for until there's no breath left to fight with?"

"I-I'm not sure..."

"Draco, please. I want you. I never thought I'd ever say that, but, god, these last few weeks have turned my life upside down and I do. Want. You. Don't give up on us, please?"

Draco's bottom lip was trembling and Harry could see the break in his eyes. "Harry," he breathed shakily. 'I'm not sure if I'm strong enough. I'm weak and a coward."

"You're not weak and you're not a coward. You survived Voldemort, didn't you? That took enormous courage, and you emerged relatively sane. I'd have gone completely crazy." Harry smiled and kissed the trembling lips again. "You can do this, just don't leave me before you have to. Please?"

Under him, Harry could feel Draco's whole body shaking. His arms came up and wrapped themselves around Harry clinging to him like a lifeline and he sobbed into Harry's shoulder. Harry just held him while he cried, relieved that he'd dragged his Draco back from the brink. If he were honest with himself, he could understand why Draco slipped into giving up; it was desperately hard to keep optimistic when nothing seemed to be going right. To have escaped from one hell, been given a glimpse of hope, only to have it dashed again every minute they didn't find the diary.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, Draco stopped crying. At least Harry assumed he did because he'd stopped shaking. Draco's long fingers snuck under his shirt and spread themselves over as much of Harry's skin as they could.

"Is this all right?" Draco asked, voice still thick with tears.

"Yes, but why-?"

"Testing out the goods." There was a self-conscious wry humour about Draco's tone. "Have to make sure that what I'm fighting for is in good working order."

"You don't have to do th- Oh." A hand slid under the waist band of his jeans and there was fingers playing with the coarse hair sitting above the elastic of his boxers. "Draco, isn't this moving too fast?"

"I might not have much longer, Harry. If the worst happens, you'd send me off to meet my maker without having had one shining, pleasurable intimate memory?"

The fingers slipped under the elastic and Harry realised he was hard as Draco's fingers wrapped themselves around his length.

"God."

Draco chuckled. "No, just Draco."

The awareness that any lingering doubts about his sexuality were now completely blown away, settled Harry and he gave himself over to Draco's experienced hands. He'd not think too closely at just where Draco received his experience, but rather be thankful that this was given willingly from someone who had no reason to give him anything.

It felt wonderful having Draco's hand on him; different than his own and different than any of the others that had done this. Not that there were many and none of them had been male. So this hand knew what to do with a ...oh god, there was that little twist at the end of a stroke that always made Harry feel like he was going to explode embarrassingly.

He groaned and flexed his hips, bringing himself into contact with Draco's body and an equally hard erection if that was what he thought it was. For a moment he thought he should slide his hand between them and reciprocate, but Draco shook his head. "No, don't. Not this time."

"You think I want to send you off to your maker without leaving the imprint of my touch on you?" he said, knowing that he would move heaven and earth to make sure Draco survived this trial, but was not above using Draco's own words against him.

Draco's delightful blush made Harry smile and roll them over so they were lying on their sides, face to face. Harry's hand copied what Draco's had done, though he found Draco without underwear. His raised eyebrow earnt him a kiss and a look that warned him not to mention it. But then his hand was full of hard heat, not all that different from his own, though it felt thinner and longer than his.

They held each other's eyes as they stroked, occasionally fluttering shut as the arousal built between them, often biting their lips or leaning in to kiss. Even though Draco's eyes were puffy and his face streaked with tears, he still looked beautiful to Harry. It wasn't until Draco gasped and claimed Harry's lips in a bruising kiss, that Harry felt him spasm in his hand. Watching, feeling Draco was enough to send Harry silently into the best orgasm he'd ever experienced.

"Now," Harry breathed. "Isn't that worth fighting for?"

"You're right," Draco replied, sounding a hundred times better than he had earlier. "I'm not giving up until my last breath."

"That's better," Harry said, relieved beyond all measure.

***

Despite the increased sense of optimism they felt from the stimulating hand jobs, their day of searching Snape's house was as fruitless as it had ever been.