Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 16

*****

Hermione was feeling good. Sure, here last few attempts to visit Draco had been entirely unsuccessful, as he was apparently “ill,” or so the guards were telling her. She knew without seeing him or asking, that Harry was receiving the same brush-off, but today, things would be different.

Today she had a plan.

Phase one of her plan had taken place that morning. She had made the stubbornly resistant guard deliver a copy of yesterday’s Daily Prophet to Draco. She had judged that six hours was enough time to wait before returning to see if he was suddenly more open to an interview, considering the assumption that he likely had a few questions.

Phase two would be to answer those questions fully, to a degree that Snape might see as a betrayal, but since he hadn’t made her swear never to tell anyone of his erstwhile living arrangements, that was really his own fault.

It was a simple plan, and it was beautifully obvious, but she knew that Snape simply trusted her not to share the truth with anyone, not even Draco. That was fine, and she knew he would at least be annoyed with her, but it seemed to her that if Narcissa Malfoy was allowed to know any of it, Draco was entitled to that knowledge. Especially since it was so much more immediately pertinent to him.

Besides, she wasn’t intending to tell him about the memories. Draco’s trust in Snape wouldn’t require that much justification.

“Back again,” it was the same guard she’d spoken with that morning. “He’s sick.”

“I think you should check.” She smiled sweetly, knowing he would have to do as she said. Not many people bothered arguing with Unspeakables. “He may have suddenly recovered.”

The guard grumbled as he left to follow her instructions, and she confidently proceeded to the interview room. Five minutes later, Draco entered, the paper clenched in his hand. The door had barely closed behind him before he began speaking.

“What do you know?” his voice was harsh; presumably he wasn’t enjoying this any more than Harry. “Is it really him?”

“Yes,” she nodded sharply. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t want to sit!” he snapped. “And I am not here about Harry, in case you get confused! You knew I’d want to know whatever you know about Snape, so you sent me this. Brilliant plan, Granger. Except I only care to speak about him, so let’s stay on topic.”

“Fine, but if you’re going to be so difficult, perhaps I’ll keep my secrets to myself.” She answered calmly. “If you won’t speak about Harry, I’ve got nothing further to say.”

“Do you even know anything beyond what the paper has to say?” Draco grumbled irritably after an interminable silence.

“Of course.” She smiled brightly, as though he was falling right into her trap, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I know you can’t get something for nothing.”

“So what’s the deal, then?” he crossed his arms and sat down as grumpily as possible. “If I talk to you, I have to talk to Harry?”

“No, I just ask that you listen on me, even if Harry is involved, and that you believe what I tell you.” She told him calmly. “And please, don’t mope.” His silver eyes went wide, and he rapped the table once, sharply.

“Malfoys do not mope.” He left the paper on the table and crossed his arms once more silently prompting her to get on with it.

“Now, then,” she resumed speaking after a moment of struggling not to laugh or smile at Draco’s huffy reaction. “The truth is that I did know about this, and so did Harry. Why do you think he questioned your guilt? Who do you think was helping him find the memories he needed? I’m sure he’s even donated one or two. The truth is that he’s been living with Harry. No one’s told me for how long, but I gather that he’s been there for quite some time. Probably since right around the end of the war. Anyway, no one was supposed to know, and I ended up finding out somewhat on accident. He would rather stay hidden, but for your sake, he’s appeared in public to drum up interest before Harry presents your appeal, and obviously to clear you of suspicion on his count, at least.”

“So, you see, that’s what we were talking about that day, as we knew he’d be leaving, and we were a bit worried about how it would go. But Harry told me he received an owl yesterday saying all’s well, so he seems to be fine.” She drew a deep breath. “And I’m sure you’re wondering why we didn’t just tell you that instead of some badly cobbled lie about Bill staying with him. The truth is that Snape’s made Harry swear not to tell anyone the truth. Not me or Ron or you, but I never technically swore, so I’ve decided even though Snape’ll be annoyed with me, you need to know, because it’s causing issues which are interfering with finishing this investigation, and frankly, making Harry miserable and irritating me to no end. So I though it’d be worth it.”

“Okay.” Draco’s voice was remarkably calm when he did speak again, though he did sit in silence for almost five minutes before finally responding to her drawn out explanation. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Aren’t you surprised?” Hermione felt a bit off-put by his controlled response.

“Of course, but I’ve learned today that a man I regarded as a friend and mentor, whom I have memories of killing, is alive and running about London. Adding onto that the fact that he’s been hiding in the Hero of the Wizarding World’s home this whole time is hardly going to seem more ridiculous.” Draco replied calmly.

“So…now that you know what’s been going on, are you through being angry at Harry?” she attempted.

“No.” he answered easily. “I don’t care what Snape made him do, I’m mad at both of them, as well as you, for keeping this from me. Do you know how different the false memories are from the true? Not much. I may hear you tell me that I didn’t kill someone, and you can show me proof, make my rational mind believe it as well, but you can’t erase the memories they planted. And I’m especially aggravated with Snape because I know he helped do it, then wouldn’t even do me the favor of sending me a message while I sat in prison to let me know not to take those memories too seriously, and neither of you bothered to think that I might be laboring under the illusion that he was dead, so I had to find out like this. So yeah, I’m still a bit annoyed.”

“I’m sorry, Draco, but you know Harry. If he makes a promise, he keeps it, no matter what. I know I don’t have that excuse, but I knew Snape wanted us to keep it quiet, so I did. I should have told you when you walked in on us, though, rather than lie.” Hermione apologized.

“That’s all right, I guess. You’re both horrid liars. At least I know that, in case I’m worried about it in the future.” Draco heaved a sigh.

“So…will you let Harry see you next time he comes?” Hermione wanted to know.

“Depends. He’ll probably be here in about an hour, and I’m sure I’ll still be angry at his stupid sense of noble honor then, so we’ll see. Tomorrow…maybe. Next week, probably.” Draco examined his nails as though nothing worried him less than when he would next see Harry Potter. Hermione knew better.

“You aren’t a bad liar, Malfoy, but the more time I spend with you, the easier I can read you.” She stood up, pleased with a successful visit.

“Don’t presume to know how I feel.” He answered, also standing rather indignantly. “I’ll do what I like.”

“When did you want to start on the last retrieval?” Hermione asked, “I was thinking maybe we could get to work on it after things were running smoothly with Harry. It’s important that your mind be clear and free of as much stress as possible when we do it, to avoid complications.”

“Yeah, because springing things like this on me doesn’t cause any stress.” Draco pointed in aggravation at the paper.

“Which is one reason we didn’t tell you.” She smiled, and before he could respond, she strode over and gave him a strong hug. “I want you to know,” she told him after stepping back while he gawked at her in shock and alarm, “I’ve never seen Harry so devoted to anything before. And I’m surprised to say it, but I really want everything to work out for you both.”

“Thanks.” He managed, a bit off kilter as she gave him a parting smile and left the room.

----------

“I’m glad you could come out.” Ron told Harry as they sipped at a pair of ales in the Three Broomsticks. Despite his dejection over Draco’s repeated refusals to see him, Harry had taken Ron’s invitation to a Quidditch match as a possible opportunity to make an attempt at keeping his word to Hermione. He hadn’t found much time for talk of marriage during the game, however, and had asked Ron out for drinks afterwards. He had to make some effort, after all. This was Ron, his best friend. They could talk about anything. Well, almost anything.

“Yeah, I’m glad too. I feel like I never do fun stuff anymore.” He took a sip of ale. It was much better than the stuff he’d had with Nott. “What about Hermione and you? Do you guys go out much?”

“Um, well, she’s pretty busy.” Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. Clearly he hadn’t had enough ale to drink yet. “And she’s not that big on Quidditch, really.”

Harry weighed his options before deciding that he could just plow on. First, he let Ron finish his pint, just to be on the safe side. “Is everything okay between you?”

“Who? Oh, you mean with Hermione.” Ron looked mournfully on as Madam Rosmerta swept away his empty glass with practiced efficiency.

“Only, you guys have been engaged so long. I wondered when you were going to pick a date.” He finished off swiftly, trying his best to sound casual.

“Well…she’s pretty busy, so it’s hard to schedule things.” Ron explained, not meeting Harry’s eye. “And usually I’m busy when she’s free, so it’s pretty crazy.”

“Ron,” Harry spoke again after Ron received his second pint. “You two couldn’t find one day off together in two years?”

There was a long silence, and Harry wasn’t sure whether Ron was going to storm out, punch him, or just ignore what he’d said. “There…are things you don’t know.”

“Do you love her still?” was his response.

“Of course I do. More than anything.” Ron answered.

“Do you want to marry her?”

“That’s a stupid question.” Ron’s laugh was a bit hysterical.

“Do you?” Harry was deadly calm.

“Things between us…right now, it’s perfect. If we get married, if we have kids…I want those things, I do.” Ron stared at his half-empty ale somberly. “But I don’t want…look what happened to my family! If things got bad…I couldn’t bear to be so happy and have it all fall apart. I don’t want to lose her.”

“If you keep making her wait, you’ll lose her anyway.” Harry answered.

“I don’t…” he trailed off.

“Look, I understand what’s worrying you. Don’t you think I can understand what it is to lose your family?” Harry looked at Ron dead on. “Bad things can happen whether you’re happy or not, they aren’t going to be worse because you were happy. Wouldn’t you rather have a family than be alone? Because the way you’re going on, all the bad things that happen to you will be your own doing. I know it seems like she’ll never leave you, but look at how things are now. They’ll only get worse if you keep this up.”

Silence again from Ron. The noise around them was filling their ears as they stared at each other wordlessly. Finally, Ron slammed back the rest of his drink, slammed the glass down again, and glared at Harry.

“You can be a real nosy git sometimes, you know?” And he tossed down a pair of sickles before leaving in a way that told Harry not to follow. He wondered if he had helped or not. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe he was so worried about Draco…

Maybe he needed another drink.

*****

To be Continued…