Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 18

*****

“Okay, concentrate on your memory of his death.” Hermione instructed. “I have to get close enough to find the hidden memory underneath.”

“Alright.” Draco and Harry were on the same side of the table this time, their fingers interwoven on Draco’s right leg. Harry was holding his wand in his other hand, ready for Hermione to tell him to extract the memory as son as she reached it. Hermione had been the one to suggest they sit close to each other, insisting that Harry’s soothing presence would help Draco relax his mind and avoid any complications. Draco had joked that she was just trying to see them in action, to which she had primly responded that she could see plenty of that while she was in his head, if she so wished it.

Other than the seating arrangements, everything seemed to be going just as it had the last time. Draco began recounting the memory in a voice totally devoid of emotion, Harry caressing his palm slowly with his thumb. Hermione began the Legilimency, and Harry waited, wand at the ready, for his signal. After a while, he started to wonder what was wrong. Draco had fallen silent and was breathing shallowly, as though he was asleep, but his eyes were open almost unnaturally wide and unblinking. The blood had drained from his face, or so it appeared, but Draco was so pale to begin with that there wasn’t much difference from his normal appearance.

As if Harry was not already starting to panic, Hermione made a sound that he could have sworn was a cleverly muffled string of curses and furrowed her brow.

“I’m…I have to stop.” And she made a motion with her wand before slumping in her chair suddenly, as though the ordeal had completely worn her out. There was a sheen of moisture on her forehead, and she seemed rather drained, but Harry only saw this for a moment before his attention was taken by Draco, who had maintained his posture for a moment before falling sideways out of the chair, only barely being caught by Harry, who lunged in his direction and pulled him back up, shooting a horrified look at Hermione, who was suddenly looking alert once more.

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked as he held up the boneless form.

“I must have overdone it.” She was kneeling in front of them now, her hand reaching to check Draco’s pulse, a gesture that spoke of her muggle heritage. “I just couldn’t get through…the other one was nothing like this.” There were tears welling up in her eyes, but Harry was more concerned with Draco.

“Is he going to wake up?” Harry’s voice sounded like an odd croaking.

“Well, he’s not convulsing or dead. I’d say that’s good.” She bit her lip. “I think I just tired him out. He’d probably wake up on his own in an hour or so. Or it could be sooner, hopefully.”

“He’s…I don’t think he’s breathing.” Harry was clearly in a full panic, and Hermione attempted to check, but Harry was practically smothering the other man in his arms.

“Harry, honestly, I can’t check him over if you’re doing that.” She clicked her tongue at him and attempted to pry him away from the unconscious form, but this proved to be no easy task. “Harry, which of us knows the most about medical magic? Will you just…let go!”

“Look what you already did!” he nearly shrieked at her, “He’s…he’s not moving.”

“Harry, if you don’t calm down, I’ll hex you and have my way in any case. I can’t fix him if you won’t let me.” She persisted, and after a threatening wave of her wand, he finally relented. Hermione employed his assistance and they laid Draco out on his back on the table. She lowered her ear to his mouth before looking up again and poising her wand over his chest. “Ennervate.” she spoke the incantation firmly, flicking her wand before smoothly putting it away. Draco’s body gave a great shudder before going still again. A moment later, his eyelids fluttered and he gave a weak groan, scowling disconsolately as he lazily opened his eyes.

“Draco,” Harry breathed, surging forward and clutching at the immobile form, “Are you okay? You scared us.”

“I’m fine, if you don’t count my head.” He grumbled in reply. “Feels like a cauldron full of acid exploded inside.”

“Sorry, I had a hard time.” Hermione apologized. “It was much easier to find the memory underneath last time, and then I just kept digging until, well, sorry. I didn’t even get it, after all of that.”

“Well…shall we try again?” Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position with one arm, wincing as he did so.

“No!” Harry protested immediately. “No way.”

“Harry’s right, we shouldn’t try it again, definitely not today.” Hermione looked rather shaken, and Draco wondered whether she didn’t want to make another attempt because of his own mental health, or because she hated facing the prospect of failure. “I think we should wait a couple weeks.”

“I’m fine, we don’t have to wait that long.” Draco scowled deeply. “I’m sick of all this waiting. How long has it been since this all started? It seems like every step forward means a few more weeks. I’m getting tired of it, and I just want it to be over with.”

“I understand that,” Hermione answered calmly, “But if you want this to work, we can’t just rush through it. Not only would the evidence be compromised, you health would be at risk. Well, more at risk, I mean.”

“It’s still annoying.” Draco grumbled.

“All right.” Hermione pursed her lips. “If you feel up to it and you seem alright to go through with it again, we can try it in one week. How does that sound?”

“No!” Harry protested again. “We should wait two weeks to be safe.”

“One week is really enough time.” Hermione advised him.

“Harry, it’ll be fine.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” Harry gave in since it was clear he was being overruled in any case. “But I’m going to see if your mother remembers anything, in the mean time.”

“And I’ll write to Snape.” Hermione added, “See if he has any advice.”

“Why?” Harry frowned.

“He’s much better at Legilimency than I am. He may be able to see what the problem is if I can describe how it felt well enough.” Hermione replied.

“That’s a good idea.” Draco nodded. “My father was rather good at it, clearly, but he’s not really available for questions.”

“So was Dumbledore.” Harry added morosely, “And Voldemort.”

“Did…did your mother know anything about it?” Hermione asked. Draco gave her an appraising look before answering.

“No, she puts much more energy into style and appearance than she does into magic.” Draco told them. “She was always a rather mediocre witch, according to what I’ve seen and heard. The only spells she was ever good at were the ones my father insisted on her practicing. Domestic things.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Hermione smiled briskly, “It’d be easier than trying to write to a fugitive if I could just ask her about it instead.”

“I doubt she’d even help you, in any case.” Draco snorted. “She’s notoriously not helpful, especially when it comes to…well, you know.”

“Mudbloods?” Hermione smiled wryly, and Draco responded in kind.

“Exactly so.” He shrugged. “I’m shocked she’s even helped out Harry at all.”

“Only because she knows that she’s really helping you.” Harry answered. “She’s very begrudging about it, even then.”

“Yeah…she’s…well, she’s a good mother. She tries to be.” Draco dropped his eyes. “She always does the best she can for me.”

“Yes, well…we should go. Will you be okay?” Hermione asked Draco, who pulled himself to his feet with only a small amount of trouble.

“Yes, it isn’t too bad.” He smiled weakly at them both. “I’ll just have a bit of a lie-down.”

“Do that,” Hermione hugged him and he stiffened at the unexpected contact. “I’ll be back in a few days to see how you’re feeling.” She smiled brightly, and before he could avoid it, pecked him warmly on the cheek. “I’ll be outside.” She told Harry before leaving the two men on their own.

“How’s your head?” Harry asked, reaching over and pressing his fingertips to Draco’s temple.

“Still not great, I’ll admit.” Draco’s mouth twisted slightly. “I’ll be fine, though. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told her to stop, it was taking so long, and I knew something was off.” Harry let his fingers delve into Draco’s hair as he moved closer. “I could stay here with you, until you start to feel better.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Draco assured him. “I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”

“I want to.” Harry leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Look at me.” He held his other hand up so Draco could see how it shook.

“Afraid of me, are you?” Draco smirked widely.

“Afraid for you.” Harry countered, and the other’s features softened as he took the shaking hand in his own and kissed the fingertips tenderly.

“I know.” He said, “But I really do just want to lie down, have a bit of a nap. And anyway, Hermione will be annoyed if you make her wait out there for too long.”

“Alright, then.” Harry sighed heavily. “But you’re sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, fabulous,” Draco made a broad gesture with one hand, “though I really wish it had worked already.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry sighed heavily, and Draco leaned in to kiss him warmly, and then smiled softly up at him.

“She’s waiting,” he told Harry. “Seriously, I’m fine. Go.” But instead of pushing him away, he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him deeply. Harry was not consciously moving his arms, but he felt them distantly as they wrapped around Draco’s waist. His head was swimming, whether from the lack of air, his relief that Draco didn’t seem to be seriously hurt, or just from the sensation of kissing the other man. Likely, it was some combination of all three.

“I love you,” Harry breathed as they broke, his fingertips tingling.

“I know.” Draco smiled softly, and with another quick kiss, they separated, Draco returning to his cell and Harry rejoining Hermione outside. Almost as soon as he left the interview room, she began speaking.

“Harry, what do you think? Did Malfoy seem honest to you when he talked about his mother?” she asked him, her brow furrowing.

“Er, I guess.” Harry wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he’d be the first to admit that he was more inclined to concentrate on how Draco might be feeling at the moment than anything to do with Narcissa Malfoy.

“Hmm…” Hermione frowned, biting his lip and furrowing her brow. “Only…well, doesn’t it seem suspicious?”

“How do you mean?” Harry blinked, trying to turn his full attention over to her.

“Well…I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Hermione brushed a stray lock of hair from behind her ear and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The situation is obviously different when we see the actual deaths of all Draco’s ‘victims,’ but the locations and all the people present remain the same, except in one or two cases where Draco himself was added to a situation, because obviously he can’t kill someone if he isn’t even there. That made sense, because with memory modification it works better if you change less, and it becomes very difficult if you start adding or removing people or objects or whatnot. So what would be the point of complicating a difficult spell further by putting Narcissa into Draco’s memory of killing his father? She doesn’t actually do anything in the memory that Draco has other than cry and yell for a bit. Also, we know that the main memory modifier was Lucius, and he couldn’t very well make Draco believe that he’d done it from beyond the grave, so that raises questions as well.”

“I know.” Harry’s mouth was a thin line as the pair of them left Azkaban. “I’ve been thinking about it, and she keeps insisting that she can’t help. It makes me wonder if she could have done it.”

“That was my first thought.” Hermione agreed, “But if she’s really no good at Legilimency, that means that not only did she kill her own husband, when in all her previous involvement in this war and the one before she refused to kill anyone, but in addition, she would have needed someone to help her frame Draco, her own son, for the murder.”

“It’s possible.” Harry shrugged.

“Yes, and who modified his memories? Bellatrix, who’d been dead for a while by then? Lucius, who was the victim? Most of her friends and allies and family were already dead. No, it’s more likely that if she killed him, she did the modification herself. But how, if she’s such a mediocre witch? It isn’t easy to convincingly change a memory. Powerful magicians with a lot of practice can do it, but she apparently doesn’t meet that criterion.”

“She had time. She was married to Lucius Malfoy, are you saying she didn’t pick anything up from him?” Harry argued.

“No, as I said, it’s a possibility.” Hermione conceded. “But I’m not sure that’s the truth of it. The block is more powerful and far more seamless than the others I’ve seen. I would say someone much more skilled than Lucius constructed it. And someone much better versed in memory modification.”

“Who?” Harry asked, trying to think of anyone who could match that description.

“Well, I can think of a few dead wizards. Voldemort, Dumbledore, maybe Bellatrix Lestrange. She was very powerful, if not entirely…balanced. Obviously, none of them could have helped, though certainly two of them might have, had they been alive. You could have, if you were better with Legilimency. I’ll admit that I might have been able, but why would I? And I hope I’d recall it if I’d helped frame someone for murder. There’s only one person alive who could have possibly constructed that block.”

“Who?” Harry was getting a bit impatient.

“Snape.” She answered, looking at him carefully as she said the name.

“No way.” Harry snorted, “Why would he? Besides, he was in hiding then, lying low, as both sides wanted him dead, and Lucius actually thought he had killed him.”

“Where?” Hermione questioned. “Do you know where he was? Perhaps a friend of his was keeping him safe. After all he had done for her sake before, is it hard to believe that Narcissa would hide him from her husband? Perhaps she’d grown to care for him more than for Lucius. He certainly was more devoted to Draco and her.”

“That’s…” Harry shook his head furiously. “Why would he have me investigate the case if he’d helped to cover it up in the first place?”

“Harry, don’t be stupid. You knew already he was helping Lucius with the memory modifications. He might have placed this last one to protect Narcissa, but his guilt and hers caused them to lead you here.” Hermione stomped her foot for emphasis. “Narcissa may not want to take the fall, so I guess we’ll see if Snape is willing to send the woman he loves to Azkaban, or if he’d rather an innocent man who’s been like a son to him rot in a cell in her place.”

“This is…” Harry grumbled. “It could have been Voldemort! We don’t know the timeline exactly enough to say whether he had time before we fought to help Narcissa.”

“But why would he?” Hermione asked. “Why would he help someone who’d just robbed him of a servant that could have saved his life if he’d been there for your battle?”

“He would have done it just…just to be evil.” Harry answered in a frustrated tone.

“Maybe.”

*****

To be Continued…