Draco By Trial

*

Never thought you'd make me perspire,

Never thought I'd do you the same.

Never thought I'd fill with desire,

Never thought I'd feel so ashamed.

Placebo - My Sweet Prince

*

Hermione was really listening now, but not to Malfoy's words, to his voice. His tone was careful, calculating, and she also saw how hard he was gripping the armrests of the chair he was confined to. His eyes barely flickered, sometimes looking at the people listening, but mostly he stared straight at Fudge, as though he had to concentrate on every word he said.

'There's more to this,' she thought. 'He's not telling us everything.'

There was something in the way that he was so alert that told her he was desperately trying to hide something; that he was looking for loop-holes in Fudge's questions. He'd barely lost control once, except when talking about Lucius, and that wasn't the Malfoy she knew and detested.

She'd almost felt sorry for him when he'd been talking about his father. She couldn't even begin to imagine the pressure he'd been under; maybe it wasn't so surprising that he'd cracked. She could see how that weakness in him had drawn Harry to him. He always was one for trying to save people. A hero complex that nearly always got him in trouble.

She allowed herself to think about Harry for a moment. She had been to see him nearly every day since it had happened, but he never responded. Shut away in his solitary room in St. Mungo's and locked inside his own head, she had sat and tried to talk to him; had tried not to despair. All he did was lie there, the only movement was his chest slowly rising and falling. She'd told him about the trial that was coming, about idle gossip from school and once, secretly, about her feelings for Ron; how much he irritated her, how he got under her skin, and how she thought that she might fall in love with him one day. But it was like talking to a statue. The doctors said there was nothing they could do; he was in a magic-induced coma, something to do with an overload of magic in his system. By all rights he should have been dead; Malfoy had cast the Avada Kedavra curse on him at point blank range, just before stabbing Pansy and beating Blaise's head in against a wall.

She shivered at the thought of it. Apparently Snape had found them in Malfoy's room afterwards. Malfoy had been sitting calmly by Harry's side, covered in Blaise's blood and with Harry's head in his lap, in an almost comatose state. Pansy had been lying nearby in a pool of her own blood with a knife in her stomach and Blaise had been slumped against a wall. She'd heard rumours that Malfoy had said nothing afterwards, except to ask how Harry was and to say that he was the one who'd killed Blaise and Pansy. At the time they had said it was shock.

Nobody had known what had prompted the attack, and there had been no witnesses. They had all been aware of how the Slytherins had been treating Malfoy, and that the ringleaders had appeared to be Pansy and Blaise, but nobody had expected such an outbreak of such brutal and unforgiving violence. Everybody had been sure of one thing though, that Draco Malfoy was an evil, callous, cold-blooded murderer, who had tried to kill their saviour. Questions had been asked why the son from such a family as the Malfoy's had been allowed to get so close to Harry, but Dumbledore had remained silent, only voicing his sadness and distress that such a thing could have happened. Sometimes Hermione thought that maybe he should have done something, and other times she blamed herself for letting Harry get so involved with Malfoy.

Interest in the trial had been huge, everybody wanted to hear the whole story; wanted to see their darkest suspicions about Malfoy vindicated. But now that she was there, Hermione wasn't completely sure that that was what they were getting.

"As I see it," Fudge said loudly, getting Hermione's attention, "you haven't told us anything yet as to your reasons for any of the crimes you have committed. You are aware that that is the reason you are here?" Hermione fixed her eyes on Malfoy, who looked as though he was trying not to lose his temper.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I was just trying to give you some background," he said icily.

"Your time is running out Mr Malfoy, get to the point." As Hermione watched, she saw his hands grip the armrests once more as he closed his eyes.

'What is he hiding?'

*

It had been over a week, and Harry was still refusing to speak to Draco. During the few lessons they had together, Draco would burn holes in the back of Harry's head with his eyes, willing him to turn around; to look him in the face like a man, but he never did. During meals Harry sat with his back to the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over, not talking any of the other Gryffindors. What was worse though, were the looks that Ginny Weasley kept giving him. At dinner she would sit facing him, giving him pleading looks as she kept glancing worriedly at Harry. Draco wasn't sure whether he was more embarrassed by this or frustrated. What exactly did she expect him to do? There was nothing that he could say to Harry that could possibly make any of this OK. At the same time though, he was infuriated by his reaction. This was Harry the Brave, Harry the Noble, and never in his life had he expected Harry to act like a coward. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Draco should be the one hiding away, disgusted and ashamed, and Harry should be the one to come after him and make some spectacular speech that would suddenly make everything alright again.

Draco had tried talking to him in the corridor before Potions but even then, when he was standing right in front of him, Harry wouldn't look. He'd tried to speak.

"Harry, I-" He was going to say that he didn't mind, that it didn't have to matter, that he wouldn't make it matter if only Harry would look at him because he missed him and he was lonely and he didn't like being on his own again. He wanted to tell him that he was afraid to be alone, not only because of the threats from his former friends, but because he was afraid that that was how things would be for him for the rest of his life if he failed at being friends with Harry. He wanted to tell him that he cared for him, but he couldn't.

He'd stood there, mouth half open, with no words left to say. Harry had simply pushed past him and entered the classroom.

It was then that Draco realised that there was nothing he could say because he'd already said it in so many other ways; in the way he'd reacted, in the way he'd shouted and fought and run away, and in the way he'd sat up all night watching over Harry as he slept, simply because he'd asked.

Night after night, Draco found himself pacing his room, unable to work because he couldn't concentrate on anything except Harry. His essays made no sense and his Arithmancy calculations were always wrong, but he suddenly found that none of it really mattered at all. So he put away his pens and papers and unfinished sums, and went to find Harry. Nothing had changed for him; he had no new inspiration that would guide him, he just wanted to be able to be with him again. He didn't want to fail again and he didn't want to give up. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew for sure that this horrid silence between them; this uncomfortable ending, wasn't it. This wasn't what he wanted and he knew for certain that it wasn't what Harry needed.

He'd searched the castle in the vain hope that he would just run into Harry, until giving up and going outside. It was then that he'd realised that there was only one place that Harry would be; only one place where Harry could go that he could be sure no-one would find him.

The only source of light in the room was the fire which crackled quietly in the corner. The armchairs were empty, so Draco made his way towards the bed. A small figure lay there, cocooned in the thick covers and breathing steadily. Draco sat on the edge and waited for Harry to turn over and look at him.

"I didn't think you'd come," Harry said eventually, his voice muffled by his pillow. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"We need to talk," he said stiffly. Harry still didn't turn over, but seemed to burrow even deeper into the covers. "This isn't something you can avoid Harry," Draco snapped, feeling irritated.

"Just say what you have to say and leave." Draco sighed and stood up. He walked towards the fire and watched the flames gently licking at the wood. His mind wandered once more to that night in the greenhouse, and he wondered what it was he really wanted to say.

"You've been avoiding me." Harry made no response; didn't speak, didn't move. "I've missed you." Still no response, and Draco thought about just giving up; about just forgetting the whole thing. Then he thought about not seeing Harry anymore, and his stomach knotted itself so painfully he felt sick. "You know, I never really thought you'd become such a big part of my life. Not even when we started to become friends," Draco said quietly, speaking to the fire. "I always used to hate having to see you every day in lessons; the boy who was never confused, never alone, the boy who always won, the boy who was guaranteed a happy ending with a picture-perfect life to go with it. God you used to make me sick, with your sanctimonious airs and how you were always so dismissive of me, as though I only existed to annoy you. I don't suppose it was any secret that I resented every breath you took. I used to sit in my room and think up ways to get at you, just so you would know how much I hated you; hated that you could ignore me so easily. It's strange how things can change isn't it? I can't really say that I hate you anymore, and I don't think you find it so easy to ignore me. I still sit in my room thinking about you though." He was vaguely aware that Harry had finally sat up and was staring at him, but he didn't turn back.

"Draco, I'm-"

"Don't apologise," Draco said quickly.

"Then what do you want?" Harry's voice was quiet, steady, and Draco wondered just what kind of answer he wanted to hear.

"I don't...I don't want this to end," he whispered truthfully.

"Does it have to?" Draco spun round, intent on speaking his mind; intent on saying something poignant, meaningful, but again he found that he had nothing to say; nothing that could make a difference.

"I don't know," he whispered and dropped his shoulders in defeat. Harry rose from the bed and came to stand before him, so quietly that Draco barely noticed him until he was right there; in front of him. Harry hesitantly reached out his hand and, on impulse, Draco withdrew further away from him. Harry stared at him for a long time, before dropping his arm and closing his eyes. It was only then that Draco noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked so much more exposed without them; vulnerable.

"I suppose it does," Harry said, before turning back towards the bed.

"Wait," Draco said quickly, reaching out to grab Harry's arm before he knew what he was doing. And there was that warmth under his skin again; that heat that was uniquely Harry that made him want to shiver even though it warmed him from within. Harry didn't move and Draco slowly released his grip. "What...what do you want from me?"

"Nothing Draco. I never wanted anything from you. I just wanted to be near you."

"From the beginning? Was this all it was about?"

"No! It was never...I never..." Harry's voice trailed off as he stared at Draco with a shocked expression.

"Then what?"

"I don't know!" Harry cried, obviously frustrated.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Well trust me, so am I," Harry muttered.

"It didn't...I mean, that night, it wasn't what I expected." Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked at his feet.

"Yeah, well I got that far."

"It made me really angry you know? It made me think that this whole thing; this whole friendship, was just some twisted lie you'd thought up."

"No! It wasn't! I never meant for any of this to happen!"

"Oh please, what the hell is going on then? Was any of this real?"

"Yes, all of it was!" Harry shouted. "I don't know what's going on! I don't know!" He ran a hand through his hair roughly and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Draco frowned, for some reason that was the last thing he wanted to hear; it made him feel even angrier.

"Don't do that! You can't take it back, you can't apologise!"

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't make any difference! Are you really sorry anyway?" Harry looked at him for a long time, opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Draco's breathing quickened, he felt the blood begin to pound in his ears. "Harry?"

"No, I'm not," he whispered. Draco gaped at him, rocked by the truth of it; shocked that this boy, Harry Potter, had never been the person he'd thought he was.

"You're not?" he choked out.

"No, because I think it was the truth, and it was always there. Underneath everything. I've been thinking a lot about this, can't stop really, and it was the truth. For me anyway." Harry looked at his shoes, refusing to meet Draco's shocked gaze. Draco stood with his head cocked to one side, unable to take his eyes off of Harry; unable to process what he'd just said. They stood like that for a long time, too cowardly to look at the other or just not brave enough to leave; until Harry finally managed to raise his head. "Have I ruined everything Draco?" he asked, in such a plaintive, begging voice that Draco felt his heart lurch. He looked at him for a moment and felt...confused. He wanted to reach out, reassure, be comforted, to just touch, but at the same time he wanted to run away; far, far away from all of this to where he could breathe again and he didn't feel as though life was trying to suffocate him until he gave in and stopped fighting.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "You're not who I thought you were." He turned to leave and felt a hand on his arm. This time, he didn't flinch away.

"Where are you going?" A quiet question, one which held a thousand others that could never be answered.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he said. "Not to us."

"But it did," Harry answered earnestly.

"I have to go." His hand was on the door-knob, and he was out of the door and away before he let himself think again.

*

It was raining when he got back outside. He looked back briefly at the Whomping Willow, feeling that nothing had been resolved and that he'd possibly just made things worse, before heading quickly towards the castle. A roll of thunder sounded far off and he quickened his step.

"Draco! Wait!" He turned quickly to see Harry running after him, slipping and sliding on the wet grass. He came to a stop in front of Draco, breathing hard. "There's something I need you to tell me first."

"What?"

"Why did you stay with me that night? What do you want from me?" Draco stared at Harry, watching the rain trickle down his chin and neck before entering the collar of his school shirt. He watched the Gryffindor badge on his cloak darken as the water hit it, until it looked almost black. He noticed Harry's hair, wet and plastered to his head, for once not sticking up at all angles. Harry stood brazenly before him, his chest heaving, his hands clenched, but his eyes never wavering, and Draco honestly didn't know what to think.

"I stayed because you asked me to; because it felt right even after... I want this to never have happened Harry. I want things to go back to the way they were because then it was so easy. I don't want to lose you, but I don't know how to get past this. I want to stay close to you, but don't know if I can. I want everything Harry. I always do." He turned away again, and this time Harry didn't follow.

*

"It started getting really serious when they started threatening Harry. They saw how close we were and guessed that he was my only weakness."

"Your only weakness? What do you mean?"

"He was the only person at Hogwarts that I didn't want to see get hurt."

"Because he was your friend," Fudge said slowly.

"Yes."

"You know, that doesn't make a lot of sense, since you later cast the Avada Kedavra curse on him." Draco took a deep breath and fought to not let the words '...it was because I was in love with him...' come out of his mouth.

"I know. None of it makes sense. Except the fact that I was afraid." That was definitely true; he'd been terrified.

"Of the Slytherins."

"Of what they could do."

"To both of you."

"Yes." Draco was having to take deep breaths now just to stay calm. He was mentally pleading with Fudge to move on.

"Was Mr Potter aware that they were threatening him?"

"Yes, he...overheard." Draco slouched in his seat and prayed that Fudge wouldn't make this any harder than it already was, he could already feel his self-control slipping. One wrong word, one strangely phrased question from Fudge, and it would all come out. He was also mildly disturbed by the way Granger was looking at him, as though she was staring right inside his head and trying to figure out was really going on.

*

Draco was walking blind, not noticing where he was going or that he was wet through and shivering. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, and he was alone for the first time in months.

A hand grabbed the back of his collar and he was pulled forcefully backwards. He slammed into the wall and, with the wind knocked out of him, slid ungracefully to the floor. He blinked up, momentarily confused, into the faces of six Slytherins who were peering down at him with mixed expressions, varying from hatred to disgust. He gulped, audibly.

"Have a nice night Draco?" Blaise asked silkily with a smile, Draco didn't bother answering. "We saw you outside with Potter. Lovers tiff?" Draco pulled himself slowly to his feet.

"Fuck off," he said, enunciating each word. Blaise's smile widened, he put his hand on the centre of Draco's chest and pushed hard. Draco lost his balance and fell to the floor again. He looked up to find a wand pointed between his eyes.

"Watch your language. There's a lady present," Blaise snapped, jerking his head towards Pansy who was hovering in the background. Draco snorted and glared upwards.

"What do you want this time?"

"We've been watching you Draco." Draco recognised the speaker as Tristan and he smirked.

"I noticed. You really aren't the most subtle of stalkers Tristan. You sound like a herd of elephants whenever you move, did you know that?" Tristan made to move forwards, his fists clenched, but Blaise stopped him with a raised arm.

"Leave it for later," he said curtly. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well Blaise, I never saw you as the controlling type. Didn't think you had it in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me. In fact, there's a lot you don't know full stop."

"Oh please," Draco sneered, finally pulling himself upright again and looking Blaise in the eye. "If you've just come to threaten me with your new 'training' again, I'm not really interested." Blaise grinned again and was about to speak when Pansy stepped forwards. She reached out her hand silently and ran the palm down Draco's cheek and the side of his neck. Draco fought not to flinch away.

"We have been watching," she said quietly. "And we've seen more than you know. Very fond of Potter aren't you?" Draco flinched quickly away and caught her wrist, bending it backwards until she winced.

"He's my friend," he hissed. "Touch him and I'll kill you." She looked straight into his eyes, and smiled.

"Just your friend?" she asked innocently. Draco paled and dropped her wrist suddenly. He looked around at those surrounding him and saw grinning faces everywhere. He started to feel sick. "Didn't think so."

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"Well, to be honest, the boys here wanted to just shove you around a bit, give you a few bruises to remember us by, that kind of thing, but I said no. No, that won't work on Draco Malfoy, not Lucius Malfoy's son. He's stronger than that. Bruises and broken bones will only make him stronger." She leant forwards and placed a hand under Draco's chin, forcing him to look at her again. "It's in your head where you're weakest. You depend on people too much Draco. You depended on your father and look where that got you! All alone now aren't you? Except for Potter of course." She let her words hang in the air, more effective than a punch or a scream. She stepped back and looked shrewdly at him. "We've been speaking to your father as well," she said quietly. "Told him all about what his son's been saying. He wasn't very happy." Draco's eyes widened and he stared disbelieving at her.

"What?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

"Oh Draco, I thought you weren't afraid of anything anymore." He stared into her eyes and felt the bottom drop out of his world.

"We'll be seeing you Draco. Look after that, ahem, 'friend' of yours," Blaise jeered.

They left Draco slumped against the wall, his breath hitching in his chest as he fought against tears and pain; fought against the urge to merely stop breathing. He could still hear their laughter echoing off of the walls; could still feel their touch, and he was back in the shadows again wondering what they'd do next and hating himself because he was so afraid.

A sound made him stiffen straight away; a slight shuffle and rustle that sounded exactly like...

That damned invisibility cloak.

Draco stared, disbelieving, at where Harry stood. For a moment neither of them moved, until Draco pushed himself off the wall, turned on his heel with an angry snarl and walked away. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to leave; couldn't bear looking into those eyes only to see something he wasn't sure was there.

He was walking quickly, almost blind with anger and fear until he couldn't think anymore and just started to run.

*

"I didn't know that he'd followed me. We'd had an argument you see, that was why I was on my own. He saw it all and he came after me, I was so embarrassed! I think the fact that he'd seen bothered me more than anything they could ever have said or done to me."

"Why? Why was that so important?"

"I didn't want him to see me like that. I didn't want him to know how afraid I was. And I was so angry at the whole stupid situation, and I aimed it all at him." Draco hung his head, hating himself for feeling the way he did; for being so weak. He couldn't stop talking, simply couldn't stop himself and they were all going to know, the one thing he'd tried so hard to hide.

"What did he do Mr Malfoy?" Fudge asked sharply, sealing Draco's fate.

'Oh God.'

*

There was Harry's face, half in shadow, half in light, staring back at him with horrified eyes. The moonlight hitting his face made him look paler than normal; somehow he didn't look quite right. He stared at Draco, a puzzled, shocked look on his face and concern for him in his eyes. That wasn't something Draco wanted to see. He pushed himself off the desk he'd been sitting on and turned his back, he didn't want to look at him anymore.

"Draco?"

"Look, I really don't need this now."

"Draco, I-" He could hear the worry in Harry's voice, and he hated it.

"Don't you dare," Draco whispered. "Don't you dare fucking pity me. I don't need that from you." Harry was quiet for a moment, and Draco raised his eyes to look out of the window he was facing. All he could see was the reflection of Harry's pale face in it. He stared at him, and Harry looked deep into his eyes.

"It's not pity that I'm feeling," Harry whispered, so quietly Draco wasn't sure whether he'd heard him say the words or read them on his lips. Harry raised his hand to touch Draco's shoulder, but Draco flinched away and the arm fell back to his side. Draco took his eyes off of Harry's face and watched the rain trail tracks down the outside of the window.

"I know," he said sadly.

It was dark and windy outside, he couldn't see more than a few feet but he was mesmerised by the water, streaking down and thrashing the ground with its fury. It was somehow apt that the weather was echoing his deepest thoughts; as though, suddenly, everything had fallen into place. Everything was so clear to him now. It was too fucking dark, and so quiet that Draco could hear Harry's breathing, slow and steady as though his mouth was right next to his ear. He wanted to stop it right there; to put his fingers over Harry's windpipe and stop that sour breath, just to erase that look in his eyes because he didn't want pity, or sympathy, or empathy, or whatever he wanted to call it. He didn't want him to feel anything.

He looked at Harry's reflection once more, then put his fist through the glass where his face was.

The rain came in through the window and washed away the blood that gathered by his knuckles. He looked at them for a while, wondering why it didn't hurt more. He turned, looking at Harry, who hadn't moved; hadn't flinched. He could see the shadows of the rain-tracks on the other windows reflected onto Harry's face, adding an eerie effect to the already present strangeness in the pallor of his skin. He shook off the feeling and made to walk past him. Harry grabbed his arm, refusing to let him leave.

"You're staying right here, and I'm going to make you face this," he said, sounding more determined than Draco had ever heard him. It made him angry beyond belief. He shrugged off Harry's hand and stepped closer to him.

"Leave me alone. What makes you think this has anything to do with you? You weren't so ready to face anything before," he hissed in Harry's face, but he didn't try to leave again. Instead, he returned to the desk and sat, looking downwards, willing himself to calm down.

"I'm here because I care Draco, and it has everything to do with me. Everything that affects you, affects me."

"I know," Draco said softly.

"I really don't understand any of this. All I know, is that I care." Harry repeated the words.

"Something happen in the last half an hour? You weren't so sure of that before."

"Yes, I was." Draco said nothing, just continued to look downwards at his shoes.

A hand touched the back of his neck, slowly caressing in an act of supreme comfort, but he still refused to look up. He was suddenly intensely interested in studying his shoes; examining in huge detail each scuff mark and wondering where they all came from. There was dirt on them and he had absolutely no idea where he could have picked it up from. He'd wandered so far that night. The hand moved to his hair, rubbing in small circles; feathering through the soft, fine strands. This was more than a subtle, soothing gesture and he knew it; this was more like exploring. He hunched his shoulders over slightly and his eyes shifted to exploring the dusty floor of the room. They drifted over each cracked, grey flagstone in turn, and he wondered over the origin of each break. What harsh treatment had resulted in them? He was finding the movements of that hand intensely distracting. He wanted to shake it off; to just get up and leave and escape the confusion it was causing within him. But at the same time, he never wanted it to stop; his body refused to move and his mind point blank rejected the idea of even contemplating the loss of this strangely intimate touch.

The hand moved back down to his neck and then ran around to his cheek as Harry moved to stand in front of him. Draco's skin tingled everywhere those fingertips had touched him. Another pair of shoes had now entered his eye-line; they were equally scuffed and dirty. 'Must have happened somewhere I was with him then,' he thought dully. He didn't want to think about those shoes, or that hand, or what any of it meant. He wanted to sit, forever if need be, staring at the dust and simply not thinking. He wanted to avoid all of this.

"I care," Harry whispered again, more as an exhaled breath than actual words.

The hand moved under his chin and gently tilted his head upwards. Draco closed his eyes to avoid the contact, but not before he saw legs, a delicate waist, a stomach, slender fingers hanging relaxed by a thigh. He became aware once more of the sound of Harry's steady breath, calmly going in and out, and he fancied he could feel it dance across his lips with every exhalation. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast under his ribs and he was suddenly extremely glad that he didn't have to speak anymore, his throat had constricted and he didn't think he'd be able to form the words.

Fingers and palm moved to cup his cheek and the warmth emanating from them made him shiver. They moved slightly, but didn't go so far as to actually stroke. A small part of him was screaming for them to do it. He heard shoes shuffle on the flagstones and knew Harry had moved closer. He was afraid; he didn't understand. This was far more than he had ever expected; it was more than he'd known he wanted. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter.

He could hear and feel the breath more clearly now; could feel a warmth on his skin that had nothing to do with his own body. An excited dread filled him as he waited for what must surely now be inevitable. Then, all movement ceased. There was nothing but that soft breath hitting his lips; feather-light but feeling like blows from a sledgehammer. He felt as though something had been cruelly wrenched from him at the final second. The burgeoning dawn had retreated back into desolate night as though it had been frightened away by his lack of response to it. He was left gasping for air and light with no means of sustenance. A need had been awakened, and he opened his lips. Taking in the sacred air from that mouth that blessed his lips with promises, as though it was a lifeline; the only thing keeping him here, awake and breathing.

Permission; Harry was waiting for permission. A realisation that somewhat shocked Draco. Why was Harry waiting for something he must surely realise he already had?

His eyes relaxed, his shoulders straightened and his own hand rose, unbidden, to cover Harry's. He felt the imperceptible sigh as their hands fell away from his cheek and fingers laced. His hand was cold and shaking, but he gripped tightly onto Harry's, which was soft but just as insistent. He squeezed. Keeping his eyes shut, he rose from the desk as Harry's other hand came to rest on his shoulder, gradually tracing its way down to settle on his waist. Slowly, tentatively, Draco trailed his fingers up an arm, over a shoulder, up the side of a neck, to cup a cheek. Mimicking the actions of the other. He felt hot sparks spike his fingers. He let himself be drawn into the confines of Harry's body and felt once more that glorious breath on his face. If possible, it felt even closer than before.

When lips touched his, he began to drink. He remembered this; remembered the feel of Harry's lips on his, the tenderness, the pure and simple rightness of this. Warmth of a sublime nature began to fill him, and he never wanted to let go; he never wanted to forget. His fingers tightened convulsively, gripping too tightly to the skin beneath them, but he was too afraid to let go. Light kisses drifted over his face, like raindrops hitting his lips, cheeks, eyes, forehead, jaw. He tilted his head to drink more of it. The slightest of moans left his lips, and they were immediately recaptured. This time with hungrier, more insistent kisses. But it wasn't enough, he needed more. They delved deeper, trying to say what their voices never could; that this was real, this was the truth, cold and bare and brutally honest as it was.

Draco pressed closer into Harry's embrace, wanting only more of him. Harry pushed them backwards slightly, and Draco felt the backs of his legs hit the desk, which shifted under his weight. He explored Harry's mouth fully, feeling that there was a kind of salvation there; something that might save him from everything he had done. Maybe this was what he had been waiting for all along, this bliss that was the feeling of Harry's tongue in his mouth and Harry's body pressed so intimately against his own. He felt the familiar hardness that was echoed in his own body, and only pressed closer. He wasn't afraid anymore, only desperate.

Then, he woke up; he saw that he really didn't understand this, that this could never be right, that Harry was his friend and that should mean more than all of this; because this was so fleeting, so inconsistent, so unnecessary. It shouldn't matter how much he wanted it, because it would ruin everything.

Overwhelmed, he gently prised his lips away, and opened his eyes.

Shattered jade crystals gazed back at him, and the shards pierced him; cutting him down where he stood. The world blossomed around him, and the infinitely delicate moment crumbled away to nothing. He saw Harry's lips form a single word, Draco, but he couldn't hear it; all he could hear was the rain coming in through the broken window, pattering gently on the broken flagstones. He sat back down on the desk and resumed looking at his shoes, mussed blond hair falling into his eyes. There was nothing he could say; no acknowledgement that could be made.

He felt Harry withdraw tentatively and was too much of a coward to meet his eyes again. He didn't understand what had just happened, but somehow, he knew, it was an ending as opposed to a beginning.

He didn't try to stop Harry as he heard him leave.

'What have I done?'

*

A solitary tear teetered on the edge of Draco's eye, hardly daring to fall.

"He kissed me. He kissed me like I was the only person in the world to him; like I was the only person that mattered...and it meant everything," he whispered. The already silent room seemed to become even quieter as this was absorbed.

"Why are you crying?" Fudge asked, almost breathlessly.

"Because I know what happens next," Draco replied softly, unable to look Fudge in the eye.

"It was you wasn't it? You he developed feelings for? You he fell in love with?"

"Yes," Draco whispered, longing for this just to be over with.

Then, sounding like a whip-crack in the quiet, a chair fell backwards as someone hastily got to their feet.

"No!" Weasley cried, with Granger tugging frantically at his arm. "Get off Hermione! You're lying Malfoy! Harry would never...he'd never touch you like that!" He was screaming, his voice at breaking point. Fudge was hammering his gavel, asking for calm, and a hundred voices broke the silence and shocked whispering broke out around the courtroom.

"Believe what you like Weasley. It happened and there's nothing you, or I, or anyone else in this room can do to change it!" Draco shouted back, suddenly incensed that this boy, this idiot, would try to deny what had been going on between him and Harry. "Ask your sister! She knew, she could see it!" That shut him up, and he fell bonelessly back into his seat, his head in his hands.

"I think it's time we took another break," Fudge said quietly, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

*

"Come in," Draco said, so quietly that Snape jerked. He entered the room, looking embarrassed that he'd been caught lurking by the door.

"How are you?" he asked tentatively, looking as though he were about to bolt at the first sign of any tears. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine. It's alright, it's safe, I'm not going to break down and try to cry on your shoulder," he said sarcastically. Snape visibly relaxed, before straightening his features into their usual half-scowl.

"Yes, well, I have some news for you," he said stiffly. Draco perked up at this.

"Yes?" he asked eagerly.

"I've managed to arrange for you to visit Mr Potter before you are returned to Azkaban. Under my supervision of course. Mind you, after the announcement you made I'm not so sure it's wise. I mean, Potter?" Snape made a face so comical that Draco almost laughed. He dismissed his teacher's words with a wave of his hand and began to pace the room, feeling his spirits begin to rise. 'One last time,' he thought. 'That's all I need.'

"I still don't see the point though," Snape continued.

"Not even after what I just said in there?" Draco asked. Snape appeared to consider this, before nodding slightly.

"Love is a strange thing." Draco stopped pacing and faced his teacher.

"Whoever said anything about love?" he snapped.

"Draco, the only reason you're in this mess is because of love," Snape snapped.

"You don't know that," Draco muttered. "Nobody knows that." He started to pace again, his palms tapping restlessly against his thighs. He felt skittish, restless, he reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it and, instead, his left hand made its inevitable journey to stroke the two raised lines on his cheek. He used to be so vain about his appearance that such a disfiguration would have traumatised him for life, he'd had to quickly change his priorities now.

"There's something else you should know," Snape said quietly. Draco turned to face him and felt his heart sink at the look on his teacher's face.

"What?" Snape looked distinctly unhappy.

"It's Lucius, we found out just now, he's escaped from Azkaban."

*