Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes

- Harry Potter and the Redemption of Foes -

Chapter One

Change was part of life and the wizarding world was well-acquainted with the concept. In a matter of months they had been through so much change that most would agree that they had begun to expect the unexpected, and nothing was considered 'impossible' anymore.

The death of Albus Dumbledore hit everyone hard, and the people descended into a panicked chaos during the first few weeks of summer. Even the Ministry, which had often criticized the old man's views, seemed lost without his guidance. Voldemort had taken full advantage of this, relishing the taste of victory and launching the first of a deadly wave of attacks which left the wizarding world in devastation, grief and pain.

But his victory was short-lived. Perhaps it was miracle or perhaps, as some speculated, it was all part of some brilliant plan, but whatever the reason, no one would forget the day Albus Dumbledore walked into the middle of the Hall of Ministers during a strategy meeting and announced his presence to the world. The public rejoiced, but were kept in the dark about what was said during that meeting. Only a few trusted associates knew what Dumbledore had told the Ministers, and less than a day later, the charges against Severus Snape had been dropped.

The Daily Prophet was filled with speculation, but Dumbledore's presence overrode most suspicion, and only a few eyebrows were raised when Dumbledore disappeared and left to 'go on holiday'. This sudden departure, however, left a problem.

Who was to be Headmaster of Hogwarts until his return?

The answer stunned everyone, but no one more than the man who sat in the Headmaster's office, scowling down at a stack of papers, silently cursing providence and wishing that the Dark Lord had actually killed him. It would have been far kinder a fate.

Severus Snape tapped a quill on the antique oak desk, having never felt more inadequate in his life but refusing to admit it. He frowned down at the paperwork which seemed to be never-ending! When he had agreed to take this position (or rather, had been talked into taking it by Dumbledore), he had not understood the vast amount of work involved in running a school.

He had thought all it would involve was giving a start of the year speech (something which secretly struck terror into his shy, Slytherin heart), disciplining students and occasionally advising the staff.

Oh, how wrong he had been! Schedules, meetings, crisis! The elves in the kitchen were sick and apparently their illness was deadly to humans, so they had been quarantined and he had to coordinate the staff to help pick up slack and make the meals themselves! They needed new staff, some of the library books had been damaged in a fire and needed to be replaced, and he had to approve each and every lesson plan! Not only that but he had to consult with the Board of Governors! How he DETESTED those bureaucratic, stuck up, postulating bores! And he had a feeling they weren't too fond of him either.

School started tomorrow. The very idea of it sent a shiver of dread down his spine. He had been trying to write his speech, something which was as daunting a task to him as a one-legged man attempting to win an arse-kicking contest! He hadn't even gotten to his lesson plans and he'd not be able to touch the paperwork because of the multiple crises which he had had to handle.

Frustrated with himself and the blank piece of paper in front of him which had failed to yield inspiration, he stood up and paced, going over to a window and scowling darkly as he looked out across the grounds. He didn't belong in this office. He knew it. He could feel it! This wasn't his place and he had never wanted it to be.

Severus had an ego; he didn't deny it! He was ambitious and truth be told, he resented the fact that he'd never gone to medical school and been a world famous doctor or a research potions master who got to make the really big discoveries! But he'd long ago given up those fanciful dreams for something more practical, and while a part of him still longed for something great and ambitious, he knew this wasn't it. Oh no! Give him a drafty, cold dungeon and a few snivelling students any day.

He missed Dumbledore. He winced at the thought, hating himself for his own weakness. Affection wasn't something he allowed himself much of. He knew how dangerous was; how it could be used against you. If he cared for someone, he made sure to give the impression he didn't. It was safer for all concerned that way! But he did miss that old man who had risked so much just to clear his name!

And who had left him in charge of the school...

The paperwork was driving him mad! And having to curb his tongue was proving to be damn near impossible. And he had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

A sharp little knock announced the arrival of Professor McGonagall. Her lips were pursed and there was an air about her that suggested she would have rather been thrown to starving dragons than have to report to Snape.

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has not arrived," she announced in a clipped tone.

"What?!"

"You heard," Professor McGonagall answered. "There is no option but for one of the teaching staff to handle two subjects. I have asked Professor Sprout, but she claims lacking knowledge... You, Professor, have enough on your plate with Potions and the duties of Headmaster, so I was about to suggest myself for the time-being, until a suitable replacement may be acquired."

Severus paused, easily feeling the weight of her displeasure at the new configuration of staff, but he had as much right to be unhappy as she did. Starving dragons would also have been preferable to acting Headmaster...

"I suppose we have little choice," he agreed.

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed with insult.

"I mean, not that it's a bad choice!" Severus quickly added, and frowned in frustration, running a hand back through his dark hair. He cursed quietly (a few portraits covered their ears with astonished expressions), and slumped back into Dumbledore's chair.

"Is there anything else, Professor?" he inquired after a moment, holding back a humiliated scowl.

"No, Professor Snape...." It might have been his imagination, but Severus thought she sounded more understanding. "Oh, though there is one thing... Professor Flitwick says you plan to go to the Ministry today? Are you sure that's wise?" she asked curtly. "What is your purpose in going?"

Severus' eyes darkened oddly. "My purpose is a student," he said softly. "Draco Malfoy was captured a little over a week ago. He's being held for questioning. As he's seventeen, he can be tried as an adult as a conspirator, but I know for a fact that he is innocent. I am negotiating for his release."

McGonagall's lips went so thin they looked white. She was about to part them to speak, so Severus stood and pulled on his cloak. "-In fact, I'm late," he cut her off, leaving the office before she could splutter her objections, his thoughts troubled and dark.

***

The Ministry of Magic had changed since the Dark Lord had returned. Security was tight and Severus, after passing the lovely fountain and the initial security guard, was searched and poked and prodded with spells that only his personal physician had ever been allowed to try before! The prim, tight-lipped old lady in the security uniform kept looking at him as though he were the devil himself. Severus deliberately made things difficult for her.

"Who are you here to see?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It's my job to ask!"

"It's not my job to tell you," Severus retorted.

They continued in this circular questioning for a long time until the woman finally gave up and let him go on his way. He smiled thinly in amusement, knowing he would get no more while here, and headed for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

People were rushing back and forth, shouting to each other across cubicles. Owls flew in through the windows at incredible speed, almost hitting Severus several times as the Department was flooded by urgent messages for help. The aurors were obviously busier than ever! But Severus had expected nothing less and so he passed all the chaos and headed for the back offices, opening a wooden door labelled "Prisoner Relations" and found himself descending a familiar steep stairway that led into a restricted and hidden section of the Ministry.

Most prisoners were sent to Azkaban eventually, but those that were arrested and awaiting trial were kept in a dungeon-like facility located under the Ministry. Severus knew he wouldn't gain access to the dungeons directly, but he *did* have access to the detective handling Draco's case and he knew he would find him down here. There were several corridors that led into private officers and Severus didn't even knock as he entered the man's small office and closed the door behind him.

"Well?" he demanded tensely.

The detective glanced up, an older man with thinning grey hair and almost bored brown eyes that sharpened and tensed at the man's presence. Magnus Howard didn't trust Severus Snape. He'd been the one to capture and arrest the man and he'd been floored to discover his innocence in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. That catch could have made his career! But just because the man was innocent of that crime didn't mean he was innocent of others.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock, Mr. Snape?" the man snapped.

"I'm not interested in observing your meaningless pleasantries, Howard. I want to know about the boy. You spoke to the judge?" Severus inquired.

Howard smiled thinly, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigar, taking a full, deep breath.

Severus could have told him precisely what was happening to his lungs. He could have warned him that smoking those horrid things would shorten his life span by at least fifty years! He'd die young like some muggle. He'd be lucky if he made it to a hundred and thirty! But Severus didn't tell him that.

Yes, go ahead and fill your lungs with that dark, sickening crap, you vile tub of lard.

"I spoke to one of the judges," Howard assured and looked at Severus calmly, unaware of the man's thoughts, his chair creaking under his bulbous weight as he leaned back in it.

Severus gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides impatiently. "And?" he asked softly through his teeth.

Howard shrugged slightly. "And Draco Malfoy is facing many serious charges, Mr. Snape. Conspiring with the enemy, suspected of being a Death Eater, attempted murder..." he added pointedly. "Not to mention the fact that his father is still at large and we believe Mr. Malfoy might know where he is and could potentially be conspiring to harbour and protect a fugitive from the law. Serious charges. And while you may call him a 'boy', in the eyes of the law, he is a man."

"Ridiculous!" Severus exploded. "That boy knows *nothing* of Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts! Do you think that Lucius Malfoy is so stupid as to stay in the same place for any length of time?! And he is not a Death Eater! He failed in his task; the initiation was not complete! He *refused* to murder, you ignorant sop! Surely you can see he's still just a *child*?!"

"So you say," Howard said tensely and tapped off some ash into a tray and leaned forward. "But that 'child' is the son of one of the most influential and dangerous Death Eaters alive."

Severus looked at him scornfully. "Funny how your tune changes. Lucius used to have you and everyone else in his pocket! And *now* suddenly you decide to become dedicated to justice since he can no longer pay you and anyone else in this place to look the other way. You make me sick." he said in disgust and braced his arms on the desk. "I'm taking this to Galen," he threatened softly. "And when that boy is released to me, I better not find so much as a *scratch* on him or I will use any means at my disposal to make sure you are very sorry for it."

Howard stood up and braced himself on his desk as well, almost nose to nose and glaring at the vile man in front of him, enraged at his accusations (truthful as they may be) of bribery and wanting nothing more than to toss him in a cell with the other trash.

"Is that a THREAT, Snape?!" he demanded.

"No, Howard... it's a promise," Severus said softly, dark eyes glittering almost dangerously. "You may have forgotten that Lucius is not the *only* influential person. I know people who know people who could make your life a living hell. How would you like to be restricted to a chair for the rest of your life, your face so horribly deformed that women and children scream at the very sight of you, and live out your days as an object of pity as you're fed through a tube in your nose?!"

"I'll have you arrested for threatening an officer!!" the man snapped.

Severus pulled back and smiled thinly. "Your word against mine, Detective," he said softly. "And you've already proven to be mistaken once. Whom do you think they'll believe this time?" he asked wryly and turned to leave. "Not a *scratch*," he warned again.

The detective looked flushed, but despite himself, he nodded. He'd die before admitting to being afraid of that threat, but something in the man's eyes told him he was serious, and the vivid description had him more than a little unnerved.

Severus left the prison area, wishing they would just let him see Draco... just *once*! But it would take a lot more influence and bribery than he had at the moment to allow that. Visitors generally weren't allowed unless you were a 'somebody', so Severus made his way back to the main floor of the Department and headed for the officers of the judges.

Galen Maddox was one of the top Wizzengammot judges and in Severus' experience, he'd found the man to be quiet, logical and fair. It was the last attribute which Severus was hoping to appeal to, and having faced him during his own brief imprisonment here and having earned a little respect after Dumbledore had explained the situation, he felt he could go to him in this matter.

Severus *did* knock carefully this time and waited for the invitation before entering the man's office and cleared his throat. "Galen?" he asked, having come to address him by first name at the man's insistence.

Galen glanced up and smiled slightly. "Ahh... Severus Snape! How are things going at Hogwarts? I must say this is a bit of a surprise! I had thought, after your unpleasant stay here, you wouldn't be so eager to come back," he said pleasantly.

Severus shook his head. "Believe me, I'm not here for a social visit. I'm here to discuss with you a matter of some urgency actually."

"Mmm... yes. Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Galen asked, indicating for the man to take a seat. "I hope you realize how... delicate... that situation is," he said tactfully.

Severus frowned darkly. "He's just a child, Galen. He's been manipulated and caught up in something he has had no control over."

"We all make our choices, Severus," Galen said softly. "He's seventeen now. He has the rights and privileges of an adult. That makes him accountable for his actions, and when he was captured, he was *with* a band of Death Eaters who were en route to a suspected raid."

Severus' frown deepened. "Galen, do you have any *idea* what it's like on that side?"

"No," Galen said softly. "But I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"Damn right I am! If you refuse to cooperate, you die! End of story! If you make so much as a single mistake, a wrong move, a bad decision, you're killed and questions are asked later. You may have found him en route to a raid, but I can promise you he would not have been an active and willing participant! I know this boy! I've known him since infancy!" Severus exclaimed.

"And I realize you care for him and want him safe. But surely you can see the Ministry's point? If Draco Malfoy knows anything about the whereabouts of his father, we have to know! And even if he doesn't, what would you have us do? Release him? Give him the full rights and privileges of our society? A society *he* has actively helped to destroy by going along with You-Know-Who's plans?" Galen asked reasonably.

"-There's no guarantee he'll not immediately return to the Death Eaters once he's released! And more than that, there are the practicalities. To whom should we release him? The boy has a sixth year education, but no job... no home! In the eyes of the law he's a man, but you and I both know he's not viable yet."

"I already told you I would take responsibility for him," Severus said softly.

"But he's not obligated to stay with you," Galen pointed out.

"So make him obligated, damn it!" Severus barked, pounding his fist on the desk in frustration and standing up to look at the man intently. "Restrict him to the castle! Revoke his adult rights! Do whatever you have to do! Just drop the bloody charges and let him go!" he said.

Galen looked consideringly at the man for a long moment, seeming to be in deep thought, before nodding slightly. "Alright," he said softly.

Severus blinked in surprise, honestly having not expected him to do it. "Alright? You mean... you'll let him go?"

"Yes, Severus... I'll have him released tomorrow afternoon," he said softly and shook his head. "This will not be an easy matter but I think I can convince the other judges to release him into your care. But there are conditions."

"Name them," Severus demanded.

Galen looked at him seriously. "He is under a kind of 'house arrest'. He will be restricted to the Hogwarts grounds unless he is accompanied by you or another guardian whom you have in writing authorized to watch him. And more than that, I am going to do as you suggested. His adult privileges are being suspended; he will not be licensed to apparate until he turns twenty. He may seek employment and pursue his education, but he may not live independently on his own until the age of twenty. You have three years, Severus. Three years to undo whatever damage you need to. He's in your custody and if he violates any of these conditions, he will be tried and sent to Azkaban, and as his legal guardian, you too could be held liable. Do we understand each other?"

Severus nodded seriously. "Yes, Galen. Perfectly."

Galen nodded. "Be here tomorrow at three to pick the boy up," he said softly. "And Severus?"

Severus turned at the doorway, having been on his way out. "Yes?"

Galen smiled slightly. "You might want to work on that temper of yours. Good parents don't generally break tables by pounding on them."

Severus actually flushed and nodded curtly, leaving the office in much better spirits, but knowing that the real trouble had only just begun.

~*~

It was... dank. It wasn't damp exactly.... and it wasn't completely dark.... It wasn't dusty, nor was it slimy.... But it was far from inviting.

Then again, he supposed cells weren't supposed to be luxury establishments. Even so... one could have at least hoped for some form of rudimentary light beyond the faint glow from the torches in the hall beyond the door...

Door seemed like an understatement. This 'door' was not very tall but oddly wide, and made with such thick, aged wood it would have probably been soundproof if not for the small gap near the top, punctuated by narrow metal bars.

Draco thought it was a cliché. It was so would-be 'dungeon'. He'd seen better..... much better, unfortunately.....

The tall, extremely slender blond was positioned on the grotty excuse for a cot to the left of the cell, sitting as straight as if someone had shoved a pole up his back. He never slouched, it was engrained. His shoulders, thin and delicate, with jutting bones and deep dips of white skin and tendon, looked almost too weak to support his head - which rested on a thin, swan-like neck.

A tray containing some rudimentary slop that was, he suspected, *supposed* to resemble food, had been left untouched just inside the door. The goblet of water he *had* taken advantage of, however, and lay empty on its side.... He'd die of starvation before eating that glop though. He had standards..... they were just severely strained at the moment.

Draco Malfoy had now been in Auror custody for a total of nine days. Nine long, boring days. The highlight of each was the interrogation at around midday.... Due to his extreme stubborn will to yield nothing, they had brought in some sort of psychiatrist.... one of the people who claimed they could read between the lines... and get to 'understand him'... Draco had folded the intelligence tests into origami...

Then threw the duck at the man placidly....

That had been day seven.

Draco folded his arms about his chest tautly. He rubbed an elbow absently for warmth, something that was distinctly lacking in this place. He should file a complaint.... but he'd already filed somewhere in the region of three hundred, and the guards had stopped humouring him now.... To earn the truth, he just needed to distract himself....

He was used to unfortunate situations... more used to them than he ought to have been.... but this was not the same. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.... This side of the coin was a side he, frankly, knew nothing about. They sang carols at Christmas, cooed at puppies, found some abstract meaning in life.... All things he was rather disconnected to. Carols held no purpose, puppies were not 'awww, adorable!'.... and he certainly hadn't found any real meaning in life so far....

In fact, for the seventeen years in which he had been unpleasantly alive, he'd found very little to promote the state of being whatsoever....

That said, Draco would have rather eaten that slop on the floor than let anyone have the satisfaction of his death.....

So cold.... so damn cold....

The blond closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the stone wall slightly, managing not to shiver with sheer will power alone. He wanted a decent blanket... a change of clothes... He had only changed clothes once since arriving, after the briefest of brief cold showers. He might as well have just rubbed ice all over his body...

Now, while still passable, Draco didn't think he could have attended any social functions; the grey short-sleeved t-shirt was loose (and a tad grimy from leaning against the wall) and the tight dark-blue jeans (jeans! He was reduced to wearing JEANS) were starting to look a bit scuffed too.... Ugh, this was barbaric.... *jeans* of all things....

Draco rubbed his arms slowly again, fingers practically numb... He opened his eyes again, the pupils completely dilated with the attempt to see more than shadows in the darkness, and stared across the expanse of dim cell... He moved only to breathe, conserving his energy as he did not sleep in this place, and only moved his gaze, at length, when he heard footsteps and saw the growing glow of torchlight.

Harry Potter had gone mad.

His parents' death hadn't managed it. Living around his aunt and uncle and his fat, tormenting cousin hadn't done it. Facing evil wizards, giant snakes, giant spiders, trolls, personal tragedy, death and worst of all... puberty.... hadn't done it either!

And yet here he was, following some fat guard down a cold, dark corridor towards a cell in this horrid place, and Harry had completely lost his mind. It was the only explanation for it!

Why else would he feel sorry for Draco Malfoy?

Harry winced as he heard distant cries, shouts and other horrible things echoing in the hall. This place wasn't fit for a rat to live in, then alone a boy of seventeen. He couldn't imagine Malfoy in a place like this! In a posh, upscale tearoom surrounded by ladies in their Sunday best? Yes, he could picture that. In a pristine museum surrounded by ancient and elegant works of art? Yes, he could most certainly picture that too! But in a dark, dank, dirty dungeon?

The idea was almost baffling.

But what was more baffling than that was the trouble he'd gone to in order to speak to Malfoy. Arthur Weasley had had to pull some strings, and even then Harry had had to personally agree to sign autographs for the all the guards' wives and children! For once, his fame worked in his favour and he unashamedly used it in order to get what he wanted, which was an audience with the Ministry's latest prisoner.

From what Harry had gathered, the boy had been captured along with a group of other Death Eaters shortly after Severus Snape had been cleared of all charges (Harry still reeled from the idea), and since then he'd been held for questioning.

But Harry had a few questions of his own that needed answering. Questions which had almost haunted him. Ron thought he was mad. Hermione thought he was coming down with something. Maybe he was! But he knew he wouldn't rest until he got some answers. But he wasn't naive enough to think he'd get them without some kind of payment in return.

So he'd come prepared with what little he was allowed to bring into the cells with him and waited outside patiently for the guard to unlock the door.

"Hey! You!" the fat guard practically grunted as his massive frame blocked Harry's view of the inside of the cell. "You've got a visitor."

"Oh happy day...." came the replying drawl awash with sarcasm, sounding more bored than anything.

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. Cell or no cell, filth or no filth, Draco Malfoy would always sound as though he were a king looking down his nose at the peasantry.

"Perhaps not..." Harry said, making his way around the fat guard with a backpack on his shoulder, all the items inside it having been thoroughly searched and scrutinized.

But any further comments were stricken from his mind as he took in the sight of his old nemesis. The blond was paler than death (or perhaps that was just the lighting? He didn't think so), and thinner than Harry had ever seen him. He was dressed in jeans, something which Harry had never thought to see in his life-time, and somehow his filthy attire made him look... human.

Harry had never thought of him as human before. Not really. To him, Malfoy was always larger than life! A paragon of wealth and arrogance, always strong and prideful but never vulnerable in any way. Morbidly, Harry had admired his confidence and had envied him for it at times. He felt disillusioned suddenly to see Malfoy sitting there in that cell, as human as he was.

The king had been dethroned, and Harry found he took no satisfaction in it as he had once thought he would.

Draco blinked a number of times, almost squinting, eyes unused to the light of even the rudimentary torch after so long in the darkness... But then he sat back hard against the wall behind him with an 'ugh' of eloquence.

Potter... wonderful... just what he needed...

"So they've decided to attempt *torture*... I have to hand it to them; they're extremely inventive. Good for them.... But I think, unpleasant as this may be, it would take more than your tedious company to loosen my tongue, Potter..." he drawled, voice fluid and composed as ever, despite his circumstances.

He was not unaware, however, of the Gryffindor's shock... It was painfully clear on his stupid, open features... Draco idly wondered if that unique openness was a rarity or if it was commonplace amongst people with more standard upbringings than his own.... but he dismissed the query quickly, and shifted at the staring, folding his arms over his chest as if to hide himself.

"What the hell are you staring at?!" he snapped, frowning.

Harry startled at the question, realizing he was staring rudely and shook his head. "Nothing... nothing!" he assured quickly and cleared his throat, looking at the guard. "Do you mind?"

The guard hesitated. "Was told not to leave you alone with him. Could be dangerous!"

Harry looked dry. "I think I'll brave it, thanks," he said sardonically.

The guard hesitated and nodded. "Fine then," he grunted. "Just call when you're ready to leave," he said and handed Harry the torch and left the small cell, closing the door behind him.

Harry bit a lip nervously for a moment, before putting the torch up on a wall-bracket and turning back to the blond, seeing him folding his arms over his chest almost defensively.

Harry felt a twinge of compassion which was both sudden and unexpected.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly. "Are they treating you well? Or... as well as can be expected?" he queried, hoping it wasn't the kind of place where they truly did use torture! He didn't think the Ministry was that brutal, but Harry had become a bit more cynical of late and didn't put it past anyone to resort to terrible methods of persuasion.

"As if you care," Draco said with little inflection, still squinting a little, though he managed to make it look like he was just suspicious rather than the truth - that his eyes were sore. "If you had *your* way I'd probably be bleeding to death again... Nice curse, that, by the way. Don't think I've seen it before..." he drawled, mock-conversationally.

Harry didn't flinch, but his eyes grew darker. "That was an accident, Malfoy," he said softly. "I had no idea what that curse was. Of course I don't want to see you bleeding to death."

"Funny sort of accident...." Draco murmured, but said nothing more on the topic, not particularly fond of the memory. He started to get used to the light level in the room, but his pupils were still very wide, dragging in all the light they could while they had the chance.

He moved a hand up to rest at the base of his neck on his upper-chest where the t-shirt collar was too loose to keep it warm. He looked almost weary. "What do you want, Potter? I'm very busy being imprisoned at the moment...." he said flatly.

Harry's eyes fell to the base of his neck, the skin whiter than snow and Harry wondered if it was as cold as snowflakes too. He shook his head, dismissing the idea from his mind and folded his arms, leaning back up against the cold wall.

"I wanted to see you," he said softly. "And... to talk to you about a few things," he confessed. "I was worried about you," he added at the end, and felt foolish for admitting it. It wouldn't matter to Draco! He'd no doubt laugh at the thought. Harry Potter worried about Draco Malfoy! Ha! Yes, it was very funny. It was no wonder Ron thought him mad...

Draco stared silently at Harry for a couple of drawn-out seconds, then managed a ghost of a smirk... a faint echo of his former self... "Worried about me," he repeated.

He didn't say any of the things that teetered on the tip of his tongue, for which he was very proud of himself... and his restraint. Instead, he quirked an almost-amused pale eyebrow and said, "You have my undivided, incredulous attention, Potter. I suggest you address what you mean to discuss."

Well... at least he didn't laugh, Harry consoled himself. He shifted slightly, trying to figure out how to put this. "Right... well..." he paused and cleared his throat, straightening slightly. "Best out with it then, I suppose. Umm... well, it's like this! You see I--" he cut off.

How did he explain? How could he possibly give voice to the obsessive thoughts which had taken him over last year and had resulted in him practically stalking the blond in order to prove he was guilty? How did Harry confess his guilt? How he'd been eaten up with it soon after that incident in the bathroom and even more so after Draco had fled, leaving Harry confused and feeling as though the world itself had turned on end?

Harry nodded slightly. "I - that is to say... I had a couple of questions for you. But first I - I feel I owe you an apology!" he said quickly in a rush, ignoring his stinging pride which screamed at him to stop and the little Ron voice in his head which was always with him, asking "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"

Draco blinked his eyes once... then raised a hand (which shook barely perceptively) to brush some platinum blond hair behind an ear. "An apology?" he drawled, slowly animating himself to uncross his legs and stand up.

He was thinner in appearance once actually standing, shirt hanging loosely, all limbs diminished to bone and muscle. But his thin, stark-pale features were poised with elegance and, at present, a notable smirk. "*You*... owe *me*... an apology?"

This was some kind of joke... possibly something Weasley had set him up for.... And yet the look on his face suggested there was no 'plan' here.

Severus had taught him the intricacies of the mind from a young age... Where he had failed teaching Potter, Draco had long since made progress, almost to the point where he surpassed Snape, though not quite.... Draco detected nothing of conceit... Only shock, and ambivalence... confusion.... It was inconclusive, but did prove this wasn't some planned deceit...

Draco looked amused as he circled the brunette once, as if *he* were the odder sight of the two of them in the room. He kept a wary distance of a few feet, but it was still probably the closest they'd ever been to each other without violent intent...

"Are you ill, Potter?" he inquired, completely earnestly. "Or maybe you've caught some exotic disease... and you're going to slowly die in agony and want to clear your conscience first.... Am I right? Please say 'yes'," he drawled wryly.

Harry couldn't help a small smile at Draco's censure, folding his arms, feeling scrutinized and oddly vulnerable as the blond circled him, almost like he was being dissected or stripped naked by his eyes alone.

"That's what Hermione suggested," Harry admitted softly, tensing and trying not to shift, feeling the blond's closeness and getting Goosebumps for it. He dismissed it as the cold.

"But no... I'm perfectly healthy, thank you," he assured and frowned slightly. "And yes, an apology. Don't rub it in, Malfoy! This is hard enough for me as it is without you gloating and preening!" he snapped.

Draco stopped circling, standing still in front of him, and lifted his bone-thin shoulders in a gentle, eloquent shrug. "You can't expect me to do without them... This is a fundamental gloating moment... I don't think I'll have any qualms about using precious energy to preen over this sudden insanity of yours..."

Harry hummed slightly and sighed defeatedly. "Well... I guess in this place, you could use all the enjoyment you can get so... in the interests of fairness I'll ignore your gloating," he said softly and looked at the blond intently, not failing to notice how thin he was, which just made him look all the more vulnerable.

"Despite what you or anyone else may think, I don't consider myself the smartest person on this planet. In fact..." he trailed, biting a lip hard for a moment in thought. "In fact, there are times when I can be downright thick," he admitted softly and sighed heavily.

"I may be slow to figure things out at times, Malfoy... but when I do... and my ignorance has caused someone else pain... I'm quick to atone for it. And I believe I may have... misjudged you and - and unfairly caused you additional suffering. So... for that you have my deepest regrets and apology," he said seriously.

Draco looked tense. He hadn't enjoyed that very much at all.... It was too - honest. He hadn't expected him to mean it....

"I see," he said shortly, at length, somewhat at a loss. He thought quickly, trying to think of anything to use as a retort but - there was nothing to retort to... "Fine," he added, almost snappily. Ugh! No... not fine... any other word but fine!

Harry blinked in surprise. "Fine?" he asked softly, as surprised as Draco was. "I mean... well, no! It's - it's not fine. I realize a simple apology isn't enough. In fact, no doubt to you it's downright insulting and so - I suppose I should apologize for insulting you with an apology! But... I really mean it," he said seriously, seeing he'd made the blond uncomfortable, but Harry had no choice in the matter. His guilt ran too deep.

Draco rolled his eyes slightly, and took a step back. "I said fine, Potter! Will you stop talking now? Is that it? Are you done?" he said, uneasy now and tense. Typical... he couldn't even get enjoyment out of Potter being ridiculous anymore....

"No..." Harry said softly. "I mean, yes! As far as the apology is concerned, I am. I still have a couple of questions to ask you."

"Then ask away..." Draco drawled, waving a hand imperiously.

Harry bit a lip almost hesitantly, before nodding. "Alright," he said softly and took in and let out a deep breath, bracing himself and looked at the blond seriously.

"Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?" she asked softly.

Draco scoffed quietly, though his frame tensed a little further as he paced slowly. "Why, indeed... I didn't have enough time? Snape did it first....?" he reeled, and shrugged, before looking over his shoulder at the brunette with a thin, sardonic smile. "Or perhaps... I'm not cut out to be a killer... Oh, please, come and redeem me, oh-gracious Potter?" he said with ample mocking sarcasm. "Sorry to disappoint you, Potter. I had every intention of committing murder. Circumstances just wouldn't allow it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're lying," he said softly and frowned, folding his arms and looking at the blond shrewdly. "And you did it so well too!" he complimented. "If I didn't already know the truth you might have convinced me. Do you do that all the time?"

Draco turned to face him, looking stoic and wary. "Do what?"

"Lie through your perfect white teeth."

"Do you always do *that*?"

"Do what?" Harry asked blankly.

"Stick your nose in where it doesn't belong..." Draco retorted. "Frankly, Potter, I don't see what bearing any of this has on you... And I don't have to answer your questions, there's certainly nothing in it for me besides the pain of your company..."

Harry smiled slightly. "Au contraire..." he drawled, taking out his backpack and opening it, pulling out a warm blanket and some packets of edible food. "I figured this wouldn't be as grand as a hotel. So I brought you a few... shall we say... survival essentials?" he asked and held them out to him. "You get the entire contents of this backpack if you answer my questions," he informed.

Actually, Harry felt so bad for him that he'd give it to him even if he refused, but he wasn't about to tell him that... yet.

Draco stood still for a moment, looking at the contents with an odd mixture of disdain and desperation in his eyes.... He finally rolled them and paced away again. "Charity..." he scoffed sardonically. "From you, of all people. I'd rather get pneumonia, thank you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Charity?" he asked and scoffed, as though scornful. "Don't be insulting! This isn't charity! It's good old-fashioned bribery!"

"Well, I do not concede to briber--" Draco snapped for retort, but abruptly wavered and had to throw out an arm to grasp the nearest wall for support. The cell went swirly for a moment with dizziness....

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, dropping the backpack and rushing to him, reaching out a hand to grasp his shoulder in worry. "Are you okay?! What's wrong?!"

Draco flinched violently, the touch alarming him ten times more than the dizzy wave ever could. He drew back hastily, almost staggering as the cell was still moving of its own accord... and seemed tenser than ever, not to mention a lot paler.

"Don't touch me!! Nothing is wrong! Go away, Potter...." he demanded breathily.

Harry frowned. "Draco... calm down..." he said softly, his voice gentling abruptly in a soothing way, using the boy's first name without thinking as he tried to calm him, looking worried at his violent reaction to the touch and holding up his hands. "Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you! Why don't you sit down on that cot, okay?" he suggested softly.

Draco didn't have time to reply as dizziness compounded his weakness of body to the point where he silently collapsed in a dead faint on the floor. He lay still on his side, pale as death, a tangle of fragile limbs and loose clothes... not moving but for the noticeable rapid flutter of a neck pulse and to shallowly breathe through his sudden bout of unconsciousness.

Harry's day just got worse.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, the word introduced to him by Ron and one he rarely allowed himself, simply because he feared Hermione's wrath. It was reserved for moments like this, when Harry was caught between the real and the surreal. He didn't allow himself any time to think as he reached for the blond on the floor, silently shocked by his faint, and lifted his surprisingly fragile, light frame onto the cot.

Harry wasn't a doctor by any means. He knew next to nothing about medicine except the basics of first-aid, so he checked to make sure Draco was breathing and placed his hand over the bony chest, which moved almost imperceptivity with every shallow breath. He could feel Draco's heart pounding beneath his hand and since it was obvious he had crumpled in some kind of faint, Harry assumed he was either sick or his body was exhausted and strained in some manner. Either way, this dungeon wasn't going to help his situation!

But Harry didn't have to be a doctor to feel the ice of Draco's skin under his t-shirt. He reached for the warm blanket he'd brought, putting it over him worriedly and found himself hesitating, before reaching over to soothe back silken strands of blond hair away from his face, surprised by the feel of it, having always assumed it was rather stiff and held into place by a million cans of hairspray!

Apparently not.

He let out a shaky sigh, not quite sure what to do for him. He reached into the backpack and took out a strengthening potion. He'd included several in the bag, including a day-dreaming potion in case Draco grew bored with the books he'd bought. But he felt at the very least the strengthening potion should help!

So Harry uncorked it and placed the glass of the bottle to Draco's parted lips, slanting it so the potion fell in his mouth and tilting his head back so it would pour into the back of his throat, making him cough and swallow automatically.

"There now..." Harry soothed softly, wondering what Ron would say if he saw him now, tending to Draco Malfoy after he'd passed out! But the fact that he'd passed out just furthered Harry's growing compassion for the blond... not to mention his confusion.

But he figured that could be resolved later, and continued to make the blond drink the potion carefully in hopes of rousing him and helping him recover.

Draco woke up coughing.... not a common occurrence.... Coughing was actually a little tame; it felt more like choking, and prompted him to turn onto his side automatically as a result, hacking to clear his airways. Disorientation set in.... quickly followed by some vague acknowledgment of pain.... rapidly followed by alarm. What the fuck?!

The blond sat up quickly, sensing a presence too close to him for comfort, almost wavered again, and turned wincingly to gaze at Potter, still holding the strengthening potion he had obviously been in the middle of administering. Draco's bony frame tensed to a point where he'd have made drawn sling-shots look lax.

"Careful!" Harry exclaimed, gently but firmly reaching over to place hands on his bony shoulders and push him back down. "Don't move so fast, okay? You passed out and hit your head pretty hard on the floor! I don't want you fainting again. I just gave you a strengthening potion. I'm not sure what's wrong with you; you could be sick! I should probably call for the guard to get someone. I'm sure they have a physician on staff."

Draco's expression turned to shock - and then to annoyance, brows drawing together for a frown and lips pursing as he stared malevolently up at the brunette. "Don't touch me," he repeated himself quietly, raising a pale hand to brush off those on his shoulders. He didn't sit up again immediately, simply because he was still trying to take stock of his situation.... and because the ceiling was moving, which it oughtn't be doing.... Stupid ceiling....

"I'm fine... I don't need a bloody physician. And unless I wish to demote my IQ a few points, I have no need for that guard either.... I didn't faint; I lost concentration -- it happens."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean you faint *often*?!" he asked incredulously, handing the blond some fresh bottled water to wash the taste of the potion out of his mouth.

Draco warily took the bottle, then slowly sat up and turned around so his back was to the wall and Harry was to his left -- at a safe distance of a few feet. He looked sour, "I do not *faint*!" he repeated waspishly.

Harry laughed in amusement. "Well... you certainly did a very good impression of it just now!" he quipped.

"Shut up, Potter!"

Harry grinned when he saw him take a sip of the water and shrugged, leaning back up against the wall as well. "I suppose I should be thankful you fainted. It's put you in a very precarious situation. Now you'll *have* to answer my questions!"

"I did not FAINT!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "My apologies, oh prideful one; 'lost concentration by falling unconscious'."

Draco rolled his eyes, tilting his head back for another careful sip of water, before he neatly twisted the cap closed on the bottle. "Yes, quite.... But my loses of concentration are none of your business.... and I still see no reason to answer your questions."

Harry smiled slightly. "Oh no?" he asked and shrugged. "I suppose... if you don't mind accepting *charity*... you could refuse to answer them."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry smirked. "That's my water you're drinking. And unless I'm mistaken, that's also my blanket you're snuggled up in so comfortably. Now... I could just *give* them to you I suppose and not ask for anything in return. But then you'd consider that charity. *If*, however, you were to answer my questions, you could accept them instead as a bribe or... an exchange of goods," he said innocently.

Draco was silent for a moment, tensely regarding the blanket still over his lap, and the bottle in his hand....

If Harry had been a mind-reader, the thoughts he'd have picked up would have made his ears burn....

"Bastard," he muttered stoically, as his pride and distrust fought. Pride won out... though distrust and annoyance were still notably present. "Fine... I'll answer your fucking questions."

"Truthfully," Harry added.

"You didn't specify truthfully..." Draco drawled insolently.

"I am now," Harry said and shrugged, making to get up. "But I suppose I could just leave and let you get some rest!"

"I don't need rest!" Draco argued, glaring for the insinuation of weakness. "Fine! I'll inject some truth... but you are trying my patience, Potter! If you want to know anything at all, I suggest you start asking questions!"

"I already did and you lied," Harry replied. "I want the truth, Malfoy. Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?"

Draco pursed his lips tautly. He stared at the bottle in his hands on his lap... but saw instead the night weeks ago. It seemed like an age had passed between then and now...

The torch on the wall flickered as if a breeze was disturbing it....

Finally, Draco stoically shrugged a shoulder. "I couldn't. Just couldn't..."

Harry bit a lip thoughtfully, watching him carefully, almost shrewdly. He nodded eventually and managed a small smile. "I thought so," he said softly and sighed heavily, resting his head up against the wall and closing his eyes.

This... changed things.

Draco turned his head and regarded the Gryffindor silently while he wasn't looking back. Perceptive grey eyes picked out details many would have simply not seen.... There were faint lines of stress at the corners of the green eyes, nearly hidden by the glasses frames...

There was a slight greyness beneath the lids that told of - what? A lack of sleep? No, disturbed sleep. Yes.. nightmares.... Draco knew a thing or two about nightmares. That was why he'd given up sleeping, pretty much...

Despite what he saw and what his gut instinct was telling him, however, Draco wasn't one to trust even himself and refused to be swayed. One of the only things that made sense in his life anymore was that Potter was annoying. He hated Potter.... Potter bad.

"You don't know me," he drawled quietly, tone devoid of emotion. "Whatever you're thinking... you're wrong about me."

Harry laughed abruptly in amusement. "Probably..." he admitted and opened bright green eyes to regard the blond seriously. "Unlike you, I don't pretend to be more than I am. I'm not going to sit here and say I know you. I don't. Your answer only confirmed that. But..." he trailed, biting a lip.

"It does tell me *something* about you. Something I've been wondering about for a while now, ever since I saw you on that tower, trying desperately to be something you're not and lowering your wand," he said softly and bit a lip. "You have a conscience," he said softly and frowned slightly. "That changes things."

Draco scoffed quietly and looked distasteful. "Saw me on the tower? You couldn't possibly have-" he cut off, and his grey eyes glimmered with rapid thought for a moment, before he hummed. "I see... yes... No doubt another amazing feat of invisibility... not unlike those you miraculously managed to perform in Hogsmeade."

Harry smirked slightly and shrugged a shoulder. "Possibly..." he said noncommittally. "But that's not the point," he said seriously. "The point is... I no longer have license to hate you. So..." he trailed and took and let out a deep breath, nodding. "I've decided to forgive you."

Draco had been unwisely sipping water again.... He spat some of it out and choked on the rest as he scoffed and laughed out his incredulity. He coughed a few times and held a hand to his chest as he regained his breath with noted effort.

Finally under control again, he looked at Harry with mock-sincerity. "Oh, Merlin! You *forgive* me? Well then, this is the highlight of my captivity! I daresay I can die happy now, Potter.... Oh, thank you - *thank* you for relieving me of my burden! I have so suffered with the guilt over all the pain I've caused you..."

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling slightly in amusement. "Well... I hardly expected you to give a damn," he admitted and looked at him seriously. "But... let's see... you *have* tormented me every year since we were eleven, and you almost killed my best friend," he said softly and his eyes glittered dangerously for a moment. "Intentional or not, your actions had consequences. But as I almost killed you accidentally in return, I figure that makes us even," he said softly.

"So yes, whether you care or not, I forgive you. I'm not sure what you're about, Malfoy," he said softly, cocking his head and looking at the blond curiously. "You confuse me, to be quite honest. I find I'm having a hard time separating truth from fiction where you're concerned. But either way, I don't hate you now. I hated who I thought you were. But now..." he trailed, biting a lip. "Now I'm not sure if I or anyone knows who you really are."

Draco looked nonplussed, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow... how exceedingly deep of you," he said, with obvious deadpan sarcasm. "Is that all? Can I rot in peace now?"

Harry sighed heavily. "No... I mean, yes! I could ask you the other questions, but... that was the most important one. And frankly, the others are none of my business," he murmured softly.

"What others?" Draco murmured.

Harry shifted slightly, folding his arms and looking uncomfortable. "Well.... you know.. just... stuff," he said awkwardly, sorry he'd even brought it up.

Truth was that he'd been doing a lot of thinking since Draco had fled. A lot of thinking and reviewing every second of every encounter and all the information he knew about Draco Malfoy. "Just... just a few... inconsistencies... that sort of confused me is all."

"Oh, I see. Stuff, inconsistencies. Well, that's illuminating."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine!" he exclaimed and turned to look at Draco intently with a frown. "Just who the fuck are you?"

Draco looked bland, and blinked once, before quirking an eyebrow. "You should listen to Granger, Potter... Also, whatever you have might be catching and I like my memory undamaged, so perhaps you ought to go before whatever it is that has made you forget my name spreads."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your name! I'm talking about the fact that you're a liar.... and apparently a damn good one too!" he exclaimed. "How come you always seemed so spoiled, as if you were always getting your way, your father conceding to your every wish, and yet he's supposed to be a Death Eater?! From what I've gathered, they don't care about anyone, least of all their families! And how can you act so spoiled and mean and yet I caught you crying in the bathroom over what you were being forced to do?! I didn't know at the time what you were crying over! And who bullies you?! Moaning Myrtle mentioned you were being bullied! And yet you're the most popular boy in school! No one would *dare* bully you! So who is it? And why haven't you been broken out of this prison by the Death Eaters yet? Shouldn't your father be concerned about you?!"

Draco moved surprisingly fast for someone who had passed out not half an hour ago... and his punch was strong enough to knock Harry off one side of the cot.

With glaring grey eyes, Draco then pinned him down by his shoulders, pale and tense and almost too angry to think straight... But suppressing emotion was an art form he'd taken very seriously, so he never got *too* angry.... It would be bad if he got too angry....

"I was NOT crying! Malfoys don't faint and Malfoys don't CRY! And Moaning Myrtle wouldn't know her arse from her ghostly elbow so I'd disregard anything she says! I'm not bullied, quite right! No one would dare.... And if you had any sense you'd stop right here, Potter! I don't have a wand but a powerful enough wizard doesn't NEED a wand! Do we understand each other?" he hissed waspishly.

Harry held his hurting cheek, staring up at the blond incredulously for a moment as he listened to his prideful, angry tirade.

Eventually, Harry's green eyes sharpened and then softened in amusement and what could have been sympathy. "Yes..." he said softly. "I understand perfectly."

Draco narrowed his eyes, distinctly taken aback by the odd look he was now being given.... and drew away rather swiftly, kneeling on the floor next to the brunette awkwardly instead. "Good," he muttered, finally.

Harry sat up and turned to face the blond, looking at him intently, before reaching up to rub at his own sore cheek.

"That's a mean right hook," he said softly. "You must be a good fighter."

"Not especially," Draco drawled stoically. "It depends."

"On what?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco looked sardonic, "Stuff... inconsistencies..." he quipped.

"You don't like to fight," Harry decided softly. "It's too... undignified."

Draco punched Harry again, and rubbed his wrist idly. "Oh... I don't know... it grows on you," he drawled.

"Fuck! Would you STOP that?!" Harry demanded, frowning. "Your knuckles are sharper than tacks! Don't they feed you here?!" he demanded, frowning as he felt blood on his lip and licked at it.

Draco frowned a little at the slight, still rubbing his hand. "If you can call what they offer food," he retorted.

Harry hummed. "Well... any skinnier and we can hang hats on you! There's some food in that backpack you can have," he said softly, rubbing at his sore lip mutinously and stood up. "I should... probably get going," he said softly.

Draco stood up as well, though he seemed oddly careful about doing so. "Yes..." he agreed whole-heartedly.

Harry smiled slightly. "Are they going to let you out of here any time soon?"

"Unlikely."

Harry frowned. "Why the hell not?! You haven't done anything wrong!" he exclaimed almost vehemently.

"Besides being a Death Eater..." Draco retorted, and wandered to the door and gave it a knock. "Guard - I think my visitor's ready to leave," he drawled.

The guard approached the door and opened it, keeping his wand trained on the blond.

Harry hesitated, before looking at Draco seriously. "I'll come back," he said softly. "And... I'll bring more things to bribe you with too," he said with a small smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Potter...."

Harry chuckled softly. "I can see we have a lot of work to do," he said softly and headed out the door, watching as the guard locked it behind him and then frowned at the boy in front of him.

"What happened to your face?" the guard asked, seeing the red mark where Draco had punched him. "Did he hit you?!"

"Yup," Harry drawled, pocketing his hands as he walked down the corridor with the guard.

"I shouldn't have left you alone with him! I thought you were just gonna ask some questions. You should have called and told me to come and get you if he's hitting you!"

Harry shook his head, his green eyes thoughtful. "Oh no..." he said softly. "No, he answered all my questions. I learned more from that punch than I ever could have without it," he said cryptically.

The guard mentally agreed with everyone else.

Harry Potter had gone slightly mad.