Draco By Trial

You get what you pay for

But I just had no

Intention of living this way

Counting Crows - Raining in Baltimore

It's a bittersweet symphony this life

The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony

*

"Grandfather!" Draco cried happily. "I've been looking for you." Magnus Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at his young grandson. "Are you hiding from mother again?" Draco asked, hesitating because his grandfather looked busy.

"Mmm, she has been nagging a lot," Magnus said, and beckoned Draco over. Draco stepped closer and climbed happily into Magnus' lap, inhaling the familiar scent.

"What're you reading about? Is that a book of spells?" Draco asked curiously, bending closer to look. Magnus reached over and snapped the book shut. Draco looked at him reproachfully, and Magnus smiled.

"That's not something you need to be reading," he said softly. "I think it may be a bit grown-up for you." Draco bristled and sat up straight.

"I'm eight years old thank you very much. Father says I'm almost a man." Magnus chuckled and Draco felt the sides of his own mouth pull into a smile.

"Well, well, I stand corrected." Draco nodded and turned his attention back to the book. He ran his hand softly over its frayed cover, and thought vaguely about his father.

"It looks very old," he commented absently. It was green and black with faded lettering on the front that he couldn't make out.

"It is," Magnus sighed. "I bought it a long time ago."

"It's yours? I thought you would've gotten it from here."

"Oh no, this is definitely mine. I don't think it's the kind of thing your father would find interesting."

"Why? Is he not grown-up enough either?" Draco asked with a small smile, but Magnus didn't return it this time.

"Oh I think he is, just about. It's just a very opinionated book. I think he either wouldn't agree, or maybe would agree too much." Draco turned to look at him properly, confused by the odd tone to his voice. There was a dark look on his old face that scared him.

"What's the book about grandfather?" Draco asked again, more insistently this time. Magnus smiled at him once more and shifted him into the chair next to him.

"It's about telling the truth."

"The truth?"

"Yes, Draco. There's a lot of power in truth, if you are the one that knows it." Draco was very confused. He didn't understand what was so special or strange about a book about telling the truth.

"I don't understand," he said. Magnus opened the book, flipped through to a particular passage and began to read.

"'Pragmatism is such a modern way of defining truth: we must be practical about things. Truth cannot be ascertained by consulting the relevant authorities, but is the product of inward meditation. By definition, we believe what we want to and only when it suits us. And we must remain simplistic, not get overly bogged-down by morals and should we; could we? There are so many different forms of the truth that it is so difficult to tell which is more important: the truths we should tell or the truths we should not. But surely protection from what is true; out of love and tolerance and need and desire and a wish to defend, is just as important, if not more, than anything that has come before? Is this where we find another form of truth? Or is it merely pragmatism in the extreme?'" Draco stared at his grandfather and thought very carefully before speaking.

"So it's alright to lie?" he asked tentatively.

"It means that sometimes the truth, or the whole truth, might not be completely necessary," Magnus clarified. Draco's brow furrowed as he thought that through.

"But what about when you can't lie? When you're not allowed?" Magnus closed the book and turned his craggy face towards Draco.

"It's time for dinner," he said, standing to leave. "Come." Draco followed Magnus from the library, noting that he had left his book behind.

*

Draco took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was standing just outside of the door to the courtroom with two guards on either side of him, waiting to be told to re-enter. His heart was pounding and he swallowed uncomfortably. He felt a dull sense of panic start to rise within him and his hands clenched into fists. 'I will do this,' he thought. 'I have to.' He patted his pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of his cigarettes and lighter, and now wished that he'd had one.

He couldn't stop thinking about Lucius. Snape had told him that his father had been helped to escape along with a large number of Voldemort's supporters who hadn't managed to escape during the last prison break nearly two years ago. Security had been tightened since then, but the loss of the Dementors meant that it was far too easy for the guard replacements to be over-powered. It had been rumoured that some of the Aurors had been recruited as a temporary solution, but nobody really knew what was going on.

His father was free, and thanks to Pansy and Blaise he knew everything, and Draco was afraid.

The door opened in front of him and he stepped out into the courtroom once more. His mouth went dry and his hands began to shake as everyone turned to look at him once more. 'I have to do this.' As he reached his chair he turned and stood looking at the crowd for a moment, before sedately taking his seat. The chains spread and he was confined once more. They felt tighter than before, as though they could sense his nervousness and the panic inside him that was telling him to try and run. He didn't move, just turned his face towards Fudge, who had stood and was pointlessly calling order into the silence. Draco smirked. After the truth serum had been re-administered, Fudge cleared his throat and addressed him.

"So Mr Malfoy," he said briskly. "We have a friendship, a series of arguments, numerous threats from your housemates, and a kiss. Are you ever going to tell us what happened on the day you decided to go on a killing spree?" Draco grimaced at Fudge's choice of words, but tried to ignore it.

"Yes, I suppose that's all there's left to tell really," he said quietly. Fudge looked immensely relieved at his answer. "Urm, could I have a glass of water first please?" he asked politely. Fudge rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the chains which held Draco's wrists and ankles.

"How exactly do you propose to drink it?" he asked. Draco fidgeted, but managed to look simply frustrated.

"It's not as though I'm going to go anywhere," he snapped, indicating the guards on either side of him. "You'll get your answers." Fudge glared at him for a moment, before signally to one of the guards behind Draco. A glass of water was produced and the chains were removed from Draco's wrists, but not ankles. Draco rubbed at the red marks they had left, before accepting the water. He took a sip, then looked back up at Fudge.

"Thank you," he said. Fudge signalled curtly for him to carry on speaking. Draco paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and letting the coolness of the water soothe his nerves. "Harry shouldn't have been there that night. I don't think they'd planned on it, but I suppose it just made it better for them. They knew about us."

"Who are 'they'?"

"Pansy and Blaise. They came to my room, but Harry was already there. He'd come to talk to me."

"What about?"

"What do you think?" Draco snapped irritably.

*

Draco took a long pull from the bottle, feeling the liquid burn the back of his throat and all the way down into his stomach. He let the feeling settle, fade, before taking another pull. Lying back on his bed, Draco let his eyes droop closed and watched the shapes shift behind his eyelids. The bed felt unsteady, as though it were swaying; as though he was no longer in his cold, empty dungeon room but out sailing on some forgotten piece of water. The sea was rocking him to sleep as the sun warmed him from the outside in. He took another drink, and the boat tilted dangerously. A wave of nausea hit him and his eyes snapped open. He sat up and the sickness faded quickly; its departure left him back in his room.

"That's the last time I drink lying down," he muttered grumpily to himself, putting the bottle down and moving across his room to splash some water on his face.

He studied himself in the mirror, and saw a face he felt no real affection for. It was aesthetically beautiful and he had spent many hours admiring it, but there were too many sharp angles and the hair was too blond. It reminded him of his father. He clenched his fist; the cuts from the window he had broken had all but healed, but they still itched sometimes.

He made his way back to the bed and picked up the bottle again. He'd barely touched the alcohol, but he'd felt the need for it that night. It felt as though he'd done nothing for weeks. He'd moped around his room claiming to be ill, while all the time trying to rid himself of the image of those eyes staring at him filled with so much hurt and rejection. He'd tried to work, tried to sleep, tried to play Quidditch, but all he could do was wonder how he had let any of this happen.

Now, he couldn't even get drunk properly.

There was a loud knocking on his door. He jerked at the sound, and made his way slowly towards the door. He opened it hesitantly, only to find no-one there. He stepped outside to peer around the corner, but there was no-one.

"Fucking morons," he muttered to himself. He turned to go back into his room and froze in the doorway.

"Hi," Harry said, dropping his invisibility cloak to the floor. "Close the door would you?" Draco stepped slowly back into his room, closing the door behind him. Harry stood casually in front of him, the knife Draco had given him for Christmas hanging loosely from his hand. He numbly watched the snakes on the handle writhe, moving faster than they had before. Harry's knuckles were white.

Draco took a deep steadying breath and walked calmly past Harry to his bedside table. He picked up the bottle again, took a deep drink, and then replaced the cap. He set it down with a bang and turned back to face Harry, willing himself to remain calm. When Draco didn't say anything Harry sighed heavily.

"So, how've you been? Haven't seen you in a while." Draco continued to stare.

"I'm OK," he said shortly, feeling as though this was all slightly surreal. "How're you?"

"Well to be honest, not so good."

"Really?" Draco asked weakly. "Why's that then?" Harry took a step forwards and Draco had to fight the urge to move forwards too.

"I had this friend," Harry began softly, "and I really liked him. Everything was going really well, but something happened. And now he can't even look at me." Draco raised his eyes reluctantly to Harry's.

"What are you doing Harry? You shouldn't be here." Harry tilted his head, as though thinking, before straightening up and saying briskly:

"I came to give this back." He held out the knife towards Draco. Draco looked at it, then back at Harry, whose face was plastered with a brittle smile.

"It's yours. I gave it to you."

"And I don't want it," Harry snapped.

"Why not?" Harry took another step forwards and pressed it into Draco's hand.

"Because it reminds me too much of you." Draco felt the coldness in Harry's grip around the knife and his hand; saw the hardness in his eyes, and tried not to flinch. He didn't deserve this.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered. Harry pulled his hand away and Draco felt the weight of the knife in his hand. Harry leant forwards towards him, then past as he reached behind Draco, who shivered when he felt hot breath on his neck. Harry pulled back with the bottle in his hand.

"Mind if I have some?" Draco didn't say anything so Harry shrugged and took a drink. Draco folded his arms protectively over his chest in an effort to somehow distance himself from Harry.

"What do you want?" he asked again.

"I want you to stop hiding from me."

"I'm not hiding," Draco said, too quickly. "I've been ill." Harry tilted his head and smiled lopsidedly.

"Of course you have." They stared at each other and Draco felt the silence build like pressure behind his temples until he thought his head might explode.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing, I just...I can't...I've forgotten what I was going to say," Harry stammered, suddenly seeming unsure of himself. "You make it difficult for me to think properly."

He leant forwards again and gently pressed his lips against Draco's, who didn't stop him; who couldn't even if he'd wanted to. He grabbed onto Harry's forearms, gripping tightly for support because suddenly he didn't feel very secure on his feet. Harry pulled away again and Draco found he couldn't look him in the face.

"What's wrong?"

"This is," Draco said softly. Harry jerked away quickly, as though slapped.

"What?"

"You think you can just talk me round with pretty words and gentle touches? It doesn't work that way Harry." Harry's face darkened and Draco took a deep breath, waiting for him to walk away.

"Why are you so bitter? What did I ever do to you?"

"What did you do?" Draco shouted incredulously, suddenly extremely frustrated; as though he was constantly repeating himself. "You lied to me! About everything! Just like he did."

"Who?"

"My father."

"Lucius? You're comparing me to Lucius?"

"It's the same thing isn't it? You pretend, you lie, all just to get what you want!" And now he knew what was wrong; it was his father's voice inside his head telling him that he was sick, that this was evil and would only end badly because you should never allow yourself to lose control and you should never voluntarily open yourself up to vulnerability because it was too easy to be controlled that way. It was a weakness; what he felt was a weakness.

"I never lied to you. And what I want is you! I'm not going to leave like he did Draco." Harry reached out a hand but Draco flinched away, still overwhelmed by thoughts of his father.

"And how am I supposed to know that?" he almost wailed, as though begging for an answer that would convince him, because he wanted to be convinced; talked round. He wanted Harry to keep trying. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I love you!" Harry shouted. Draco turned slowly to stare at him, all thoughts of his father banished. Harry bit his lip and blushed.

"What?" Draco asked faintly. Harry looked down and shuffled his feet.

"I love you," he muttered. Draco continued to stare at him, stunned, until Harry had obviously had enough. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Oh for God's sake Draco! Just say something."

"What is there to say?" And he didn't know how to carry on because this was all too much, and all too truthful.

"You've got no idea have you?" Harry shouted, his face pushed close to Draco's. "I've risked my closest friendships just to be near you! Half of my house think I'm a traitor and the other think I'm insane! I've been threatened by Slytherins and half the time you've refused to talk to me because you thought I was being thoughtless. All I ever do is think about you, and you have no idea the crap I've had to put up with because of you. Isn't that enough?"

"Well I'm sorry that being my friend is such a hassle," Draco snapped.

"That's not what I was trying to say and you know it Draco."

"So you think you've earned this? You think you should be allowed to touch just because you've made a couple of sacrifices?" They were his father's words and he knew it, but they were so much at the core of him that he couldn't help it. With desperation he realised he didn't know the difference between himself and Lucius anymore. Harry turned away, a disgusted look on his face.

"No! I just think I might have earned your trust," he said sadly, and Draco immediately began to regret his words. He took a deep breath.

"Harry I...look, we can't OK?"

"I love you Draco. Do you know what that means?"

"No." No because he'd never felt it before, no because he'd never been told anything except love hurt and love was a weakness and love doesn't really exist because all it is, is lust and it never lasts. And he didn't want that to happen to him and Harry.

"Then will you let me show you?" Harry put his hands either side of Draco's face and Draco thought he was going to kiss him again, but he didn't. He just stood there, not moving, waiting for Draco to answer.

He found that with Harry so close it was difficult to think; difficult to concentrate on anything but the memories that his presence brought up. His hands, his lips, the sound of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. Everything that Draco had tried to forget; had tried to push away because it was wrong flooded back and he couldn't fight it. He needed to decide; he needed to think. He could accept this; accept what this really was, that their friendship had changed and things could never go back to how they were, or he could go on denying it and drive himself mad. But he didn't know what to do. His father's face flashed across his mind and he didn't want to end up like him, he didn't want that to happen because his father was the biggest tragedy of all: a man who had based his whole life on lies and deceit and had never known a truth like Draco was feeling now just from looking into Harry's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and saw the fear flash over Harry's face, and that was all it took for Draco, because anyone who was that afraid of his answer had to mean what he was saying; had to be serious, and that was all that mattered. It didn't matter how they defined themselves; what they were together, he just knew that it was important that they weren't apart because it hurt too much. He leant forwards slowly and gently pressed his lips against Harry's. And there was such sweetness in that touch; such heartbreaking gentleness and desperation between them that he melted and there was no more need for him to think about anything because really, this was the only thing that had been right all along.

Draco pulled away and rested his forehead against Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Harry said nothing, only held him tighter as though afraid to let go. And they stood like that for such a long time that Draco thought it was forever, until Harry moved his head to nuzzle Draco's neck and that single movement set him on fire and he thought that he'd burst from the intensity. He let his hands drifted under Harry's shirt and he splayed his fingers against the soft skin he found there. Harry pulled his head back to look at him, and Draco allowed himself a single, satisfied smirk at the way Harry's eyes had darkened and were boring into his own. A terrible, consuming heat began to fill him and with it, his fear returned. If this was wrong, if he made one wrong move, said the wrong thing, he would ruin everything. His hands hesitated in their exploration and his look faltered. Harry's frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to hurt you." Harry smiled, such a sweet expression that Draco felt his heart flutter for the millionth time that night.

"You won't," he whispered. Their lips met in a fiery kiss and Draco felt that he never wanted to breathe again because this was real now, and as frightening as it was; as dangerous and unwise, he felt it was the truest thing he'd ever done. Their kiss deepened and Draco felt himself shiver as Harry ran his hands down his sides, past his waist to rest on his hips. He shifted slightly, circling his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him gently into his embrace. Their lips parted and Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, who felt him sigh happily.

The door to Draco's room slammed open and the two boys sprung apart at the noise, shocked and gasping.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Pansy asked, grinning. Blaise entered behind her and Draco could see Crabbe and Goyle standing outside.

"Stay there and don't come in," Blaise told them as he shut the door. Draco looked quickly towards Harry who was staring at him with a look of confusion and fear. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to face Blaise and Pansy.

"What the hell do you want now?" he snapped. Pansy giggled and turned to Blaise.

"You know, I think we might have interrupted something." Blaise smirked.

"It does look that way." Pansy moved forwards towards Draco, who didn't move.

"Such a shame," she murmured. "Such a waste. And for him," she said scornfully, gesturing towards Harry. Draco bristled but remained silent.

"It was more of a waste when he was with you," Harry muttered. Pansy whipped around to look at him, a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Shut up!" she shouted at him, and Harry recoiled. "You don't belong here Potter. Run along there's a good boy."

"No," Harry said defiantly. "I'm staying right here thank you. If you ask me, it's you who shouldn't be here." Pansy laughed again, then raised her wand, too quickly for either of them to respond. "Expelliarmus!" she yelled, and Harry's wand flew from his pocket and landed in her hand. Draco saw his own wand fly from his pocket and felt his heart sink. Pansy walked back to Blaise and handed them to him.

"So we're defenceless now. What do you want?" Draco snapped.

"Well," Blaise started slowly, "we didn't really think that you were taking our threats seriously Draco." Draco snorted but Blaise ignored him. "And we did warn you about Potter here, but it seems you weren't quite paying attention. So we thought we'd give you a little lesson. Just to, you know, make sure you know exactly what it is we can do now." Draco took an angry step forwards, but Blaise raised his wand warningly and he stopped.

"How dare you," Draco hissed. "How dare you come in here and threaten me. How dare you assume that you have any right! Get out!"

"To quote your friend here, no." Blaise stepped forwards and punched Draco hard in the stomach. "And we have every right, because your father said we could."

Draco fell to the floor, clutching his stomach and breathing hard. He heard Blaise laughing, and he heard Harry yell and a crash to his side. He looked quickly over to where Harry had been standing, but saw him rolling on top of Pansy who had raised her wand. Draco looked to Blaise who wasn't moving, momentarily stunned, so he moved. He lunged towards the two who were grappling on the floor for Pansy's wand. He wasn't thinking, but he saw the glint of the knife-blade, saw the hand clenched into a fist around the handle as though about to punch.

"No!" Blaise cried.

*

"It was all so quick. They'd just burst in on us, taken our wands, threatened us. Blaise had hit me and I was on the ground, and Harry just went...insane! He lunged for Pansy; I still don't really know what he thought he was doing; probably trying to get her wand. Blaise didn't do anything so I tried to get to Harry, but I had the knife in my hand. It all happened to quickly; they'd only just gotten there! How could it all have happened so quickly?" Draco's voice trailed off as the memories surfaced. He saw the glint of the blade, the snakes swirling, faster and faster. He leant over and took another sip of water, but his throat felt as though it had closed up. 'Do it; do it for Harry.'

"What happened next?" Fudge asked, clearly impatient to finally get the answers he wanted so much. Draco frowned and thought back.

*

Malfoy took another sip of water, and Hermione watched as his hand shook.

"He's lying," she muttered under her breath. Ron turned to look at her quizzically.

"What?"

"He's lying! Look at him, he's a nervous wreck!" she hissed. Ron's eyes narrowed and he looked quickly back at Draco who was talking again.

"I'd forgotten about it; that stupid knife. Harry had brought it with him; was trying to give it back but I wouldn't take it. It was in my hand and I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten."

Ron turned back to Hermione, his brow furrowed.

"Hermione, he took Veritaserum. We saw him. He's lying about Harry, all that stuff he said before, it can't be true, but how?" Hermione looked sympathetically at Ron. She couldn't, and didn't want to, try and convince Ron that that was possibly one of the only things Malfoy wasn't lying about at the moment.

"Mr Malfoy!" Fudge snapped. "Will you please just tell us what happened?"

Hermione watched Malfoy look up at Fudge with a confused expression. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to listen to his voice.

"I stabbed her of course."

She gasped when she heard it. She opened her eyes quickly and saw people glaring at her as though she was an idiot, because of course, everyone knew that Malfoy had stabbed Pansy.

"Hermione?" Ron asked quietly. "Hermione? What's going on? I don't understand. What's that bastard doing?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, her voice hard. "But I intend to find out."

*

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." Harry kept muttering to himself over and over. He was still on the floor, staring horrified at Pansy. She looked at the knife in her stomach. She stared at Draco then back down again.

"Oh," she whispered, and fell to her knees. "This wasn't supposed to be how it went." None of them moved, just stared at her silently as her mouth opened and closed silently. She reached towards the handle and wrapped her fingers around it. With a grunt she pulled it free and let it fall from her fingers. The sound as it hit the floor made Draco wince.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god." Harry stared up at Draco, looking completely lost and confused. "Draco?" Draco said nothing, just kept staring at Pansy as she slumped over onto her side. Blood was seeping from the wound quickly and he had an insane moment when he wondered if it would stain the carpet.

*

"You stabbed her, just like that?"

"It was an accident!" Draco cried. "I didn't mean..."

"You didn't hate her? You didn't hate that she'd made your life a misery for a year? That she and her friends had ruined your life?" Fudge yelled incredulously.

"Of course I did!" Draco shouted back before he could stop himself. "But not enough to..."

"Not enough to kill her?" Draco looked away.

"I don't know. No. No! But I hated her." He hung his head. "I can still see her there, looking at me; just looking at me as though I should do something to help. But I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything! None of us could. We just stood and watched her die."

*

"What have you done?" Blaise whispered eventually. "Potter? Draco? What did you do?"

"She's dead," Draco whispered. He had the suspicion that he should be feeling something; some form of regret or sadness, but he felt nothing. Except for a vague sense of horror at the whole situation.

"She's dead," Harry repeated. "The knife..."

"You killed her!" Blaise screamed, his eyes widening as he began to panic. "You fucking killed her!"

"Shut up Blaise," Draco snapped. Blaise rounded on him, and Draco was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Blaise still had his, and Harry's, wand.

*

"Blaise started shouting again. Screaming about how I killed her and how he was going to kill me. He still had both of our wands. I tried to reason with him; told him it was an accident, but he wouldn't listen."

"Well frankly I'm not surprised. You had just killed his friend."

"They were threatening us don't you see?" Draco shouted. "They were going to kill us!"

"Did they ever say that?"

"No," he whispered. "But you weren't there. It was obvious..."

*

Draco raised his hands protectively as Blaise bore down on him, wand raised.

"Blaise, it was an accident! It wasn't anybody's fault!" he shouted, but Blaise ignored him, stopping right in front of Draco and thrusting his wand into Draco's neck.

"It wasn't a fucking accident," he hissed. "I'm not blind."

"Blaise, stop!" Draco cried, but he was defenceless. Harry sat, paralysed, on the floor. Draco stared at him and saw the same helplessness he felt echoed in Harry's eyes. Blaise noticed where he was looking and got his attention again with a particularly vicious poke of his wand. Draco choked and began coughing.

"Very fond of each other you two, aren't you?" Blaise said softly, a dangerous tone to his voice. Draco could barely speak but he saw Harry move suddenly. He got up off of the floor and began to move closer towards them.

"No Harry," Draco said quickly, not wanting to see anyone else get hurt. "Leave it." Blaise turned his attention to Harry and glared.

"Sit back down," he sneered at him. He turned back to face Draco with a wild look on his face. "I've just had the most wonderful idea," he said. Draco felt his heart lurch as he began to panic. "You're so fond of each other," Blaise repeated quietly to himself.

"Blaise?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Hmm? What? Oh Draco, I've learnt so much since we last had a chat. There's so much you don't know, but I think it's time you had a lesson. Do you remember Imperius? The way it feels? The way you know exactly what you're doing, but at the same time don't? It makes everything feel so much easier doesn't it?" Draco saw the glint in his eye.

"No," he said quickly. "No Blaise, you can't. It's illegal! They'll put you in Azkaban for life! Just think about what you're doing." Blaise began to laugh then pulled the wand away from Draco's throat and waved it in front of his face.

"This is your wand Draco. Besides, do you really think that Azkaban is a threat anymore? It's so easy to get out of there. The only reason there's anyone left is because it's easier for some people to be locked away where very few people can touch them." Blaise paused for breath and Draco felt his own quicken. "Now, what shall I make you do? Cluck like a chicken? Hop on one foot around the room? Kill Harry Potter?" Draco's heart stopped and his knees went weak.

"No," he whispered. "Please."

"You know, begging never did work very well with me." Draco turned his face to Harry's who was staring, horrified at Blaise. Harry's eyes locked with his and Draco was terrified. A glint of something caught his eye and he saw the knife lying next to Harry's feet where Pansy had dropped it. Harry noticed it too; looked at the knife then back at Draco, shaking his head. A tear fell from his eyes and Draco had to look away, but the only other thing he could see was Blaise and the insane look on his face. There was a wand pointed between Draco's eyes and he panicked.

"Blaise-"

"Imperio!" Blaise shouted, and Draco felt the familiar pink haze begin to settle over his mind. Everything was fine; everything was wonderful. Blaise handed him his wand and he heard the command in his head 'Kill Harry Potter.'

*

"So what did Mr Zabini do?" Draco wasn't listening to Fudge's inane questions anymore; he was completely lost in his memories.

"I told him; I told him they'd put him in Azkaban for it, but he wasn't afraid."

"Mr Malfoy?"

"And all I could see was Harry's face, and it felt like the right thing to do because that was what he was telling me. But I didn't want to! I tried to stop it but I was too weak. All those times, all that practice with my father and I was never able to. And Blaise knew; knew that that was the one thing I'd always failed at."

"Mr Malfoy!" Draco looked up, his hand half-way down his cheek.

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

"Blaise put me under the Imperius curse and told me to kill Harry." Fudge looked confused.

"But that spell was cast from your wand."

"My wand which Blaise was holding."

*

He took a step towards Harry who was looking at him in abject horror. Harry got to his feet, bringing the knife with him. Draco's hands rose as he made to hit Harry but Harry got there first. The knife came towards his face once, twice, and Draco felt no pain. He knew he was bleeding but it didn't matter, all he had to do was kill Harry. Harry was backing away from him, he'd dropped the knife and Draco's wand-hand rose. He could feel himself fighting it; could feel every inch of his body screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't. It was too strong for him.

"Avada Kedavra." The words came out as a strangled cry and he was blinded by the flash of green which erupted from his wand and hit Harry full in the chest. Harry fell immediately to the ground and Draco felt Blaise lift the spell off of him. Pain erupted from his cheek and he gasped. He raised his hand to it and it came away dripping in blood, but he didn't care.

*

Silence filled the courtroom as tears began to fall from Draco's eyes once more.

"Mr Zabini made you cast the Killing Curse on Mr Potter? Knowing that the two of you were...involved?" Fudge asked quietly. Draco looked up and saw, for the first time, the smallest amount of sympathy in Fudge's eyes.

"Yes."

*

"Harry," he whispered. He fell to his knees beside him and tears began to fall from his eyes. "Harry, Harry wake up. Harry, what have I done?" He shook Harry's shoulders but he didn't move; didn't open his eyes. 'He can't be dead, he can't be dead. He survived it before, he can't be dead!'

Draco felt anger swell through him and he turned back to Blaise, who was grinning, a triumphant look in his eyes.

"I've just realised the irony!" Blaise exclaimed, his voice slightly higher than normal. "You've just done what the Dark Lord has been trying to do for years! You've killed the Boy Who Lived! You've actually helped him, the one who you turned away from!" Blaise began to laugh, a horrible, high cackling sound that grated on Draco's ears. He clenched his fists, and realised that he was still holding his wand. He stood up and raised his arm, anger flowing through him. He wanted to kill him; to watch the life flow out of him as he'd made him watch Harry. Tears were still falling as he looked at Harry once more.

*

"I wanted to kill Blaise for it. Never in my whole life have I ever wanted to kill someone, but I did then. And I looked at Harry's body and felt so angry. But I couldn't do it; if only because Harry would have hated me forever. I thought Harry was dead, but I still couldn't do anything that would have made him hate me."

"So how did Mr Zabini die?" Draco sighed and his head fell into his hands.

*

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, with all the force he could. The wands in Blaise's hand flew towards Draco, but the force of the spell threw Blaise back towards the wall. His head hit with a sickening crack and he slid to the floor, finally silent. Draco watched as a small trail of blood began to flow from his temple. He turned back to Harry, not bothering to check if Blaise was still breathing. He knelt back down and took Harry's head and placed it in his lap. He gently pushed Harry's hair away from his forehead and looked at his scar. He ran his fingers gently over it, but pulled them away quickly, gasping slightly; it felt unbearably hot to touch. He bent closer to look, but couldn't see any difference.

"Harry," he whispered. He leant his own head forwards onto Harry's chest and tried to breathe. He felt the blood dripping from his cheek, felt the pain throb through him, much deeper than just physical, and he felt Harry's chest rise and fall. His head snapped up and he stared desperately at Harry. He watched his chest rise and fall once more and his heart leapt. 'He's breathing, he's breathing! He's alive!'

He was about to get to his feet to get help, when Professor Snape ran into the room, Crabbe and Goyle hovering behind him. He took one look around the room, at Pansy's body, lying in a pool of blood, at Blaise, slumped against the wall, and focussed on Draco.

"What the hell is going on?"

"He's breathing," Draco whispered. "He's alive. Help him."

*

"My spell was too strong; I was too angry. I swear I didn't mean to kill him. I can't say I was sorry, but it was an accident."

"An accident? Just like killing Miss Parkinson was an accident? I've never known someone to be as careless as you Mr Malfoy."

"It was an accident," Draco whispered.

"Is that all you have to say?" Fudge asked curtly. Draco looked up, wondering if he'd managed to say everything.

"I cared a lot for Harry Potter," he began in a quiet voice. "He helped me when I needed it most, in more ways than I think he knew. I would never have willingly hurt him. Pansy and Blaise, they weren't supposed to die. They made my life hell this past year; they threatened me, turned my house against me, talked to my father behind my back, but I never intended to hurt them. It all just got a bit out of hand."

"I see," Fudge said. He turned to the council members sitting on either side of him. In turn, every single one of them nodded. Fudge lowered his head for a moment, before straightening his shoulders and looking straight at Draco.

"Mr Malfoy, it has been a long and tiring day and I am not oblivious to the emotional strain that must have been on you these past months. You were put in a very difficult situation and tried your best to manage. This does not, however, excuse your actions. Accidental as you claim them to be, you took the lives of two of your classmates. They died in a most horrible and brutal manner and for that you must be held accountable. You cannot, however, be held responsible for the current state of Mr Harry Potter. The Imperius curse is the ultimate form of control and therefore you must not blame yourself for this. There is also no evidence of you having any knowledge of Death Eater movements, except for any suspicions you may have had about your classmates. Therefore, this court finds you innocent of the attempted murder of Mr Harry Potter and innocent of with-holding evidence of Death Eater activities. With regard to the deaths of Miss Pansy Parkinson and Mr Blaise Zabini, we find you guilty."

Draco has sat and listened to Fudge's speech with a kind of numb detachment. This was no more than he had expected. He'd known they wouldn't find him guilty of trying to kill Harry, but he knew deep down that it was his own fault. He had put Harry in that position; a position he should never have been in and Draco had known that it was dangerous but he hadn't cared. He'd been so selfish. He'd expected a cheer from the crowd; had expected yells of vindication from all sides, but instead there was only that awful silence that had fallen over them all, ever since he had announced that Harry had kissed him. It was as though they were all too shocked to even react to the one thing they had all come to see.

"Due to your age," Fudge continued, "I cannot sentence you to life imprisonment and I could not, with all conscience do so were I allowed to. It is, however, my duty to sentence you to ten years imprisonment in Azkaban."

"What?" Draco asked. "You're not going to just lock me up and throw away the key?" This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to let him go. They were supposed to let him rot away alone forever in a godforsaken cell where no-one would ever bother with him again.

"No Mr Malfoy. It won't be forever," Fudge said and raised his gavel. "This court is adjourned. Guards if you please." Fudge signalled to the guards on either side of Draco and the chains disappeared from around his ankles. They pulled him to his feet and dragged him from the courtroom.

*

The door burst open and Draco turned, expecting to see Snape ready to take him to see Harry but instead saw an angry looking Hermione Granger, hands on her hips with Snape right behind her. Draco took a step backwards, slightly intimidated by the look on her face.

"Miss Granger," Snape shouted. "This is completely unnecessary! Would you please leave!" Draco looked into her eyes and spoke quietly.

"No, it's alright. This'll only take a minute." Snape scowled darkly and closed the door with a slam as he left. Draco looked at her for a moment longer before sitting down on the desk and sighing.

"Ron's waiting outside," Granger said shortly, and Draco winced.

"What? He didn't want to come in with you and wish me a good trip?" he muttered sarcastically.

"Always so funny Malfoy; so witty. Didn't save you though did it?" Draco was bored of her already. He didn't have to sit there and listen to this.

"What do you want?" he snapped. There was a pause before she spoke.

"I don't believe you." Draco looked up, puzzled.

"What?"

"I don't believe you," she repeated. "You weren't telling the truth." Draco took a deep, steadying breath.

"Granger," he said slowly, "it may have escaped your notice, but I was given a truth serum."

"I don't care," she snapped. "You were lying. I could tell."

"Why would I lie?"

"I have no idea, but I want you to tell me. You owe it to me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"You tried to kill my best friend!" she cried. Draco stood suddenly, looking directly into her face.

"I was under Imperius," he hissed. She drew away from him slightly and wrung her hands.

"Look, just, please. I need to know."

"I wasn't lying Granger," Draco said, feeling very frustrated.

"Yes you were! Look, I don't care what happened between you and Harry, just tell me the truth!"

"I never meant for any of this to come out; this thing between me and Harry."

"So?"

"Well doesn't that tell you anything? It was the one thing I was trying to keep people from knowing and I couldn't do it! Doesn't that tell you that I wasn't lying? That I couldn't lie?"

"Draco-"

"Just go away Granger. They're locking me up, you should be happy." Granger looked away and her shoulders dropped.

"I'm not happy," she whispered. "Harry's still in a coma." Draco sat down and turned his back to her.

"Go away Hermione," he whispered. He heard her footsteps towards the door and the click as it opened.

"Goodbye Draco," she whispered, and then left. For a moment there was silence and Draco sighed with relief. Then the door opened again and Draco turned, expecting to see Granger returning for a second go, or perhaps Weasley, come to beat his brains out. Instead, he only saw Snape, with the Azkaban guards hovering behind him.

"It's time to go Draco," he said quietly, and Draco stood and prepared to do the only thing he had wanted to do all day.

*

Draco entered the room quietly, as though scared of waking someone up, and closed the door softly behind him. It was dark; the sun had set long ago and the only source of light was a dull lamp which sat beside the bed. A small amount of moonlight was filtering through the window, falling delicately on the face of Harry Potter. Draco found he wasn't quite able to look at him yet, so he moved towards the window and looked out. He knew the scene he was seeing wasn't real, that the countryside view he could see wasn't possible in the middle of London, but it somehow calmed him. It had been an excruciatingly long day, and he feared that the night would be even longer; his first night as a long-term inmate in Azkaban. The place was no longer the fearsome prospect it had once been, the absence of the Dementors lessened it somewhat, but it was still a terrifying concept; the thought that that was where he would have to spend all of his time for the next ten years.

Despite all of what he had been through over the course of the day though, Draco found that this moment, having to see Harry like this, was infinitely more difficult. He sighed and turned his head to look at him. His face was relaxed and calm, as though he was only sleeping and not in a coma which the doctors had said was becoming increasingly more unlikely that he would come out of.

Draco found himself wishing that it was him in Harry's place; that he was the one who was lying there incapacitated, forever, because it would be so much easier. It made him wonder though, if Harry would have done the same for him; would have made the same sacrifices that he had? Did Harry love him enough? As much?

Draco ran his hand gently over Harry's forehead, stroking away the hair that had fallen there and letting it run through his fingers. 'The last time,' he thought. This was the last time; there would be no more; no more laughter between them, no more kisses, no more friendship. Harry had saved him, probably in more ways than he even knew, and Draco had destroyed him.

He had been obsessed with Harry Potter his whole life. From the first time he had heard the story, to their first meeting on the way to Hogwarts, to the first time Harry had tried to help him. He had hated him, tormented him, depended on him, and now he loved him; beyond anything else in the world, above himself, and he had loved every minute of it. Whether he was trying to break him or touch him, Harry had made everything interesting. He was a challenge in every sense of the word. This was just another form of his obsession with the boy.

He ran his hand down Harry's cheek, pressing in slightly and feeling the warmth of his skin against his cold fingers. He was about to take his hand away and turn to go, when he felt it; the undeniable flicker of an eye-lash against his skin. His hand froze and he stared at Harry, his heart beating unbelievably fast underneath his ribs.

"Harry?" he whispered, checking over his shoulder to make sure Snape hadn't come to get him. Surely his time had run out already. There were no more movements, only the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest as he breathed. Draco let out a shaky breath and let his hand fall away. It had been nothing. "I've got to go Harry."

He leant down and pressed his lips gently against his friend's, and felt something else: the slightest hint of pressure returned, and the hitching of a breath that wasn't his own. He pulled his head away quickly and looked into the open, green eyes of Harry Potter.

"Draco," Harry whispered with a smile.