Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 19

*****

Harry was drinking.

He wasn’t one to drown his sorrows, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He had met with Narcissa, leaving the meeting with no new answers. The woman was infuriating. She said she was concerned about their difficulties with the block they couldn’t break, but she didn’t offer any assistance, or admit to having the memory they needed.

Hermione had met him today, bringing a response from Snape. He had suggested that there was no block, and that was the problem. Hermione was sure he was hiding the truth. Harry was forced to agree with her.

He had no one to talk to at home. He was afraid to share his concerns with Draco, and it was too late for visiting, in any case. If he talked with Hermione, he’d only feel worse.

So he was at the Three Broomsticks. Drinking.

“A pint here, please!” At the familiar voice, Harry looked up to see Ron sitting next to him at the bar, looking for all the world as though he’d known Harry would be there, as if this were a predetermined meeting. “Hey, mate.” He nodded to Harry, grinning as though their last parting had been entirely friendly.

“Hey,” Harry managed as Ron received a mug from Madam Rosmerta.

“Rough day at work?” Ron asked. “You look dead on your feet.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Harry shrugged. “How are things with you?”

“Great, actually.” Ron took a swig of his ale before continuing. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Yeah?” Harry looked at Ron’s profile, trying to figure where his good cheer was stemming from.

“Any way you can get the day free on May tenth?” he asked.

“I suppose.” Harry shrugged.

“Only, Hermione and I were hoping you’d be best man at the wedding.” Ron’s face suffused with blood as he spoke, and Harry turned to gape at him.

“What?” was all he could get out.

“If the day’s no good, we could reschedule.” Ron went on, “I know you’re busy.”

“You set a date?” Harry asked in shock. “Just like that?”

“Yeah.” Ron peered at the foam floating on his ale. “After what you said, I thought…”

“Really?” Harry squawked. “I thought I’d only mucked it up worse than ever.”

“No, no,” Ron shook his head. “Just…just say you’ll do it, because I’m still a bit worried. I need you there. For moral support. Also, you’re my best mate. And even outside of all that, you know Hermione would want you there.”

“I…yes, of course.” Harry finally agreed. “It’d be an honor.”

“And Hermione says I have to invite Percy, so if you see him looking like he’ll try to give a speech, it’s your job to stop him. I may have to see his face all day, but there’s no reason I should listen to his puffed-up self-importance.” Ron requested.

“Sure.” Harry took a deep drink and gave Ron a sideways look. It was nice to see things working out for his friends. “This is great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, mate.” Ron held up his mug. “Cheers!”

----------

“Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my—“

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione’s eyes were pleading him to not say anything he might regret. The reason for this desperate look was sitting across the table, her pale blonde hair in severe knot, her painted fingernails glistening like silver claws, her smile looking more like a cruel grimace.

Narcissa Malfoy.

“We have a guest this morning.” Hermione had a smile on her face so clearly forced that Harry wondered if it was making her face hurt. “I cleared it two days ago.”

“Oh.” Harry did not quite trust himself to say anything further. He was suddenly not sure how he should act or what Draco expected him to say or do with his mother here, watching them. “Er, hello.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Hermione gestured to the chair next to her, standing and pulling him over as he numbly obeyed her. “I thought that having his mother here might help him be in the relaxed state of mind that helps with Legilimency.” Harry nodded, still speechless, wondering if Hermione was serious, or if she was up to something. Also, he wondered why she hadn’t bothered to warn him that Narcissa was going to be there, making him more nervous than he’d already been about their second attempt at the memory retrieval.

“I’m just so happy to see my dear son; I positively leapt at the chance.” Narcissa didn’t bother saying that her petitions to visit him had been denied. There was still a lot of concern about Death Eaters escaping, and high security prisoners like Draco could only have visitors who had the endorsement of the Minister of Magic. Harry, by virtue of his role in the war, could get Rufus Scrimgeour to approve almost any request without even having to explain himself. Hermione was considered powerful and trustworthy, even without her association with Harry and his battles. Narcissa, however, was admittedly from an old, rich family, but anti-Death Eater sentiment had made many of those families have to work a lot harder since the end of the war. This meant that Narcissa had no chance of being allowed to visit her son, unless the visit was arranged and chaperoned by a high-up Ministry employee, such as Hermione.

Harry understood the security concerns, but he still thought it was unnecessarily cruel to deny family or friends the ability to see a prisoner. He didn’t care for Narcissa Malfoy, and he wondered sometimes whether she cared for anyone but herself, but he knew that Draco must be happy to see his mother, even if his face looked rather blank and guarded at the moment.

“Now that Harry’s here, I think we should get started.” Hermione was clearly trying her best to keep the peace by acting as though everything was normal. “Draco, are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s get this over with.” Draco answered sulkily. Harry gave him a small, encouraging smile, but the other man did not seem to notice. He sighed deeply, composing himself, and began recounting his memory of Lucius Malfoy’s death in a weary monotone.

Harry could tell that Hermione did not feel as much at ease with Narcissa watching her with that vicious fake smile on her face, and he didn’t blame her. However, it made him rather nervous that she would be performing a difficult procedure, which she had already failed at before, with less confidence than she’d had last time. Draco was recklessly trusting her to succeed, and Hermione refused to admit there might be something that she couldn’t do. Harry hoped that nothing went wrong, but he was waiting on the edge of his seat to intervene if needed.

“Is this supposed to take so long?” Narcissa asked, just as Harry was really beginning to worry. “I think she’s doing it wrong.”

“Hush, she needs to concentrate.” Harry vented some of his frustration on Narcissa, who immediately turned her glare onto him.

“How can you even hope to understand how I must feel right now, watching my only son, the only family I have left, being put through this ordeal!” she hissed, putting a hand to her heart melodramatically, “I’m entrusting his life and his mental wellbeing to a witch young enough to be my daughter, and worse than that, she’s not even a proper pureblood magician, just a muggle-born wretch. Anything could go wrong. She could kill him, or make his mind a worthless puddle of mush. He could end up tied to a bed in St. Mungo’s, drooling and gibbering for the rest of his life.”

“Yeah, what would people say if your son was in the mental ward?” Harry hissed back at her. “Don’t think that I could care less. No one is better qualified than Hermione to deal with this. If she can’t break through the block without hurting Draco, no one can.” Harry stood up, leaning forward in an aggressive stance, “Maybe if someone else would volunteer their memory, Draco wouldn’t have to risk himself in the first place!”

Narcissa let out a squeak of fright, and for a moment, Harry thought she was actually afraid he would pull out his wand or lunge across the table and attack her, but then he saw that a small drop of blood was slowly sliding down Draco’s pale chin, leaving a crimson trail leading back to his nose.

“Hermione, stop!” Harry roared, and he knocked her wand across the room before racing around the table to reach Draco. Narcissa was clutching her hands to her cheeks in what might have been a comical show of melodrama in a less alarming situation, her mouth open in terror as Draco slid sideways to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his entire body convulsing.

Harry finally reached Draco’s side, wincing as the man’s head audibly cracked against the floor before he could stop the fall. He was panicking, he knew, trying to hold the unresponsive blonde in his arms as Draco continued to seize, and then he realized that he was probably not really helping, and that Hermione was not yet scolding him for this.

He looked around for the other witch and spotted her approaching rather shakily, slowly wiping her mouth and breathing heavily. That was when he noted the smell, and saw that she had apparently thrown up some time between when he had intervened and now.

“Don’t…hold him so tight.” Her voice was thick, groggy sounding, and she seemed to be struggling to reach them. “You have to…just let it pass…move that chair.” Harry was so terrified that Draco was convulsing and that Hermione might be too spent to do anything for him that he did not question her and automatically obeyed.

“Stupid girl! What have you done?!” Narcissa finally intervened, pushing Hermione aside so forcefully that she cracked her head against the table and crumpled in a heap. Harry immediately moved away from the chair he’d been getting out of the way to stop her when she grabbed Draco and waved her wand about in what he determined to be a rather violent manner.

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, and she nearly took his head off. “Hermione said to let it pass! You’ll make it worse!”

“Shut up!” she turned back to Draco, and after a moment, his convulsing looked more like violent trembling, and then he seemed to be twitching, and suddenly, he was still. “Idiot child. I’ve seen worse than this. You forget who I was married to. Do you think I cannot handle this? My own son?”

“What…is he breathing?” Harry asked, suddenly cowed.

“Of course he is.” She sniffed delicately. “See to your girlfriend.” She waved over at Hermione, who was out cold, in a heap where she still lay.

“Ennervate,” Harry wasn’t quite as good at medical magic as Hermione, but he knew the standard spells well enough. Hermione groaned and sat up slowly, holding her head and glaring at Narcissa. Then her eyes traveled down to Malfoy’s perfectly still form, and she crawled over quickly, ignoring her own discomfort.

“Is he…”

“It’s ridiculous, how you persist in this.” Narcissa spoke before Hermione could finish her question. “You could have killed him.”

“I’m sorry, I got…trapped, somehow. I couldn’t pull back, but I couldn’t find anything, either.” Hermione was clearly shaken. Harry joined them, desperately wanting to hold Draco’s hand, to feel its reassuring warmth, but he saw that Narcissa already had his hand clutched desperately in one of her own. Her other hand was busily pushing back his hair and combing it straight.

“When you enter someone’s mind, their will can influence you.” Narcissa’s voice lost its sharp edge. “If Draco wants the truth enough, he’ll keep you there until you can find it, or until he dies.” There was a silence then, and Harry realized with dawning terror that Narcissa Malfoy was crying. “I’m not…I try to do my best for him. I love him; however I may seem to you.”

“I didn’t know he could hold me like that, or I’d never have tried again. It’s…it’s just too dangerous.” Hermione was now crying as well, for any of a host of reasons. Harry was too confused to analyze her emotions just then.

“He’ll be all right.” Narcissa leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Let him sleep for a while. He’ll have a headache when he wakes.” She stood then, brushing her robes down smoothly. “When he wakes, tell him I’m sorry.”

“Are you leaving?” Hermione tried to stand but it was clear she was still rather weak, and she only ended up kneeling.

“Thank you for letting me see him.” She replied, pausing as she stood at the table, her back to the three people on the floor. “I…wish you luck. With his case.” Then she swiftly crossed to the door and left.

“Okay,” Harry had made himself comfortable, crossing his legs and arranging Draco into a curled up ball in his lap so the man could at least be warm, if not entirely dignified, while he slept. “You know I trust you, right? What was that all about?”

“Well, I’ve heard of issues with Legilimency, when the Legilimens isn’t as strong as the object of the retrieval, but I didn’t think…” Hermione sighed deeply, and Harry could see she was still crying. “I’m so sorry, I guess I didn’t know Draco was that strong, or that determined…Oh, Harry, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Hermione, I know you’d never purposefully hurt Draco.” He assured her, “I just meant, why was she here?”

“I thought that if it didn’t work again, she’d reconsider and offer up her memory, rather than let anything serious happen.” She shook her head. “I tried to owl you a warning, but you must not have gotten it.”

“Oh…” Harry flushed as he thought of the unopened envelope in his kitchen. “I…I did. I thought that was a wedding invitation. I haven’t opened it.”

“What? Didn’t Ron already invite you? He was supposed to ask you to be—“

“Best man, yeah, I know.” Harry answered. “He did. I said yes, but…”

“What?” Hermione pressed.

“Well, won’t he change his mind when he finds out about his?” Harry finally voiced the worry that had caused him to avoid thinking about the wedding, stopping him even from opening Hermione’s letter. “I know what I’m doing is right, and I’ll stand by Draco whatever anyone thinks, but…I wish I could say that I could still have Ron as a friend as well.”

“Harry,” Hermione wiped up her tears. “Don’t say that! Ron will be mad, of course he will. Even before the war, he hated Draco. Now he blames him for Ginny’s death, and for Fred’s. But when he sees that Draco had nothing to do with all that, he’ll get over it. I wouldn’t bet on Ron and Draco ever really getting along, but I’m sure they’ll eventually even be civil with each other, if only for your sake.”

“Yeah right.” Harry sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t bet on Ron being so forgiving. If he ever even speaks to me again…it could be , won’t he change his mind when he finds out about his?” Harry finally voiced the worry that had caused him to avoid thinking about the wedding, stopping him even from opening Hermione’s letter. “I know what I’m doing is right, and I’ll stand by Draco whatever anyone thinks, but…I wish I could say that I could still have Ron as a friend as well.”

“Harry,” Hermione wiped up her tears. “Don’t say that! Ron will be mad, of course he will. Even before the war, he hated Draco. Now he blames him for Ginny’s death, and for Fred’s. But when he sees that Draco had nothing to do with all that, he’ll get over it. I wouldn’t bet on Ron and Draco ever really getting along, but I’m sure they’ll eventually even be civil with each other, if only for your sake.”

“Yeah right.” Harry sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t bet on Ron being so forgiving. If he ever even speaks to me again…it could be years, Hermione.”

“Well, I’ll be on your side, Harry,” Hermione assured him, “So I guess Ron will have to decide if hating Draco forever is really worth losing both of us over.”

“No, Hermione.” Harry told her firmly. “I told you when I first asked for your help that I didn’t want this to come between you two. He doesn’t need to know you knew, or helped me, or anything.”

“I’d tell him anyway, Harry.” Hermione gave him a small smile. “Keeping things like this secret…he’d figure it out eventually, or find out somehow, and then it would be worse. I’d rather tell him myself.”

“Don’t be stupid, Hermione.” Harry told her vehemently. “It isn’t worth it. You two are finally going to be married.”

“If he’d leave me over this, I don’t want to marry him.” Hermione countered firmly. “Trust me, Harry. I’ve really thought about this. This is what I want.”

“Well…I warned you.” Harry shrugged as best he could with his arms full of Draco.

“Still…” she spoke after a long silence. “I can’t help worrying.”

“About Ron and you?” he asked.

“About everything.” She gave him a nervous grin. “But we’ve stuck together through everything. The least I can do is stick with you through this.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” He reached out to her and she took his hand, squeezing it warmly.

“I know you must be desperate to leave Weasley for someone better looking,” Draco’s voice startled them so badly; Harry nearly dumped him to the floor. “But Harry’s spoken for.”

“Are you feeling all right?” Harry asked, using both hands to turn Draco’s face up toward his.

“It smells like someone was sick in here.” He finally answered.

“Sorry.” Hermione blushed moving to clean up her mess.

“Where’s mother?” he turned about, but made no attempt to leave Harry’s lap.

“She left.” Harry answered, “She said she was sorry.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Draco lunged in and began kissing Harry ravenously.

“Weren’t you just unconscious?” Hermione had used Scourgify on the mess near the table, and was now standing up, examining her wand to be sure Harry had not damaged it at all.

“Shush, Granger, do you know how much more you want to do things when you know you can’t?” Draco broke his assault momentarily to answer her. “It was horrible.”

“You could have died.” Hermione was apparently satisfied with the state of her wand, so she put it away. “You two are so—“

“Pretend you don’t like it, and I’ll pretend to believe you.” Draco finally let up when he realized Harry was not going to let him put his hands down his pants. “Enjoy the free show. I wouldn’t usually be so affectionate in front of someone else.”

“It worked!” Hermione was completely ignoring them, doing some odd sort of dance. “Look, look!”

“What?” Harry helped Draco stand so they could see what Hermione was so excited about.

“Look what she left!” Hermione pointed at the table, and they saw what she had found. There it stood, shining and small and delicate.

Narcissa’s memory.

*****

To be Continued…