Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 3

*****

“So,” Harry shuffled around various pieces of parchment and unconsciously bit the end of his quill thoughtfully. “Now we’re going to try and make sense of the Three Broomsticks.”

“Not that mess.” Draco groaned and slumped back in his chair, secretly happy that at least they wouldn’t be making any trips to the Malfoy dungeons again. Anywhere but there, and he’d be able to maintain his composure, he felt sure. “Can’t we just skip the proof and say that I was away on a vacation that week? Honestly, it was complete chaos. You were there, right?”

“I wasn’t there for the beginning, but we Apparated to Hogsmeade once we were notified that there was an attack in process.” He sighed heavily as he lifted one piece of parchment and began scanning the sheet. “By the time I got there, things were completely out of control. Reports say that it started as a flash strike, but that the Death Eaters’ escape was cut off because the proprietor had recently had Order members place some anti-Apparation protections on the establishment in the hopes of preventing just such an attack…well, that worked out well.”

“So, I was there, right?” Draco asked Harry after a pause. “Only, after…what you showed me last time, I’m having a hard time knowing which of my memories are real and which aren’t.”

“No, you were there,” Harry answered. “I saw you hiding under a table.”

“Oh, great.” Draco rubbed at his face in frustration. “Can’t we just go with my vacation idea?”

“If it makes you feel better, you didn’t hide the entire time. You helped get Pansy Parkinson out of there after she was hit by a stray spell.” Harry informed him. “It was her only battle, if I recall correctly. She’s fine, now, by the way.”

“At least she got out early.” Draco didn’t seem too comforted by the report of his chivalry. “Pansy was always more of a strategist than an actual front-line soldier. Unfortunately, it seemed that the Dark Lord only wanted to use his younger recruits as cannon fodder.”

“Apparently, she has some information on what happened to two of your alleged victims, and I’ve scheduled a meeting with her, in the hopes that she’ll trust me with her story and maybe even her memory.” Harry continued while fishing for a vial of memory in his robes. “In the meantime, I’ve gotten this anonymous donation.”

“You seem to get a lot of those.” Draco made a face at him, “do you just have a drop box down Diagon Alley with a ‘Help Free Draco! Donate Your Memories!’ sign posted next to it? Or did you really never get over all that cloak and dagger stuff from the war?”

“Sorry, I’d tell you who gave it to me, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Unless someone else is willing to come forward with unmodified memories showing you actually killing Seamus Finnegan, all we’ve got to go on is this against your clearly highly modified memory.” Harry shrugged and emptied the vial into his ready Pensieve. “You ready?”

“As ever.” Draco and he plunged into the memory.

----------

“Get down!”

“Over here!”

“Come back!”

“I have you now!”

“He’s there,” Harry leaned in to make sure Draco would hear him over the general madness that surrounded them. Even though it was a memory, and utterly harmless, he’d experienced a moment of utter panic when they dropped down in the middle of a dozen different duels, made only more confusing by the fleeing of witches and wizards on both sides. “And there you are, see?”

“Alright, thanks for that.” Draco flushed to see that he was indeed hiding under a table, “I see you haven’t flown in to save the day yet with your trusty sidekicks.”

“We arrived after Seamus had been killed. Come on; let’s get closer to where it’s going to happen.” Harry grabbed Draco’s elbow and helped him move toward Seamus Finnegan, who was currently doing a rather good show of dueling Crabbe senior while his back was protected by Dean Thomas, who was dueling the much more formidable Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco could tell just by the look on his face that Bellatrix was not one of Harry’s favorite women, but then he recalled years ago, hearing a recounting of the battle at the ministry, where she had taken great pride in killing Harry’s godfather, whom he had failed to avenge immediately.

But this was her last battle, if I recall. Though I don’t remember hearing who took her out. It could have been Potter…

And then, Dean suddenly seemed to gain the upper hand in his battle, just as Seamus landed a successful Stunner (truth be told, he’d already landed two, it just took a lot to put that man down) on Crabbe senior, who tumbled to the ground in a massive heap. And there was Lavender Brown, carrying an incapacitated Parvati Patil on her back, appearing as if out of nowhere and immediately tripping over the mass of man. Seamus dropped his wand as he lunged out to stop them cracking their heads on the floor, and Draco wanted to shout out, because Bellatrix had just Stunned Dean Thomas so hard he knocked a table over, and wasn’t it a miracle he’d survived?

It was as if everything was going in slow motion, and Draco felt he was going to be sick, but prayed he could keep it down in front of Potter. Did he really have to see it happen? If he closed his eyes, would it make Seamus any less doomed? One moment the boy had that stupid Heroic Gryffindor grin on his face, and he was offering to carry Parvati so Lavender could go back to the fight or escape, whichever she planned, and then Draco saw her pretty face change into a gape of horror and he realized that she saw his aunt as well, knew what was about to happen, and she screamed the beginning of a warning, but it was really too late. He had no wand, his back was turned, and anyways, his arms were full of unconscious Gryffindor girl. But out of nowhere, a stray Stunner nearly nailed Bellatrix, and in that extra moment, he bundled Parvati back into Lavender’s arms, scooped up his wand and turned to face the Death Eater.

Draco felt stupid for getting so worked up, but then, just as Lavender raced for the door, and Seamus aimed his wand to let loose his first spell, he was silenced by a bolt of green, as Bellatrix was obviously sick of toying with him and wanted to get back to her master before she could be captured. She darted for the door, but was caught up almost immediately in another duel as Seamus fell to the ground, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. And Ginny Weasley had clearly seen it, because she rushed over, tears brimming from brilliant blue eyes, her hair flying like fire in the heat of battle. She bent over him to be sure that he wasn’t just unconscious, and Draco suddenly noticed that Harry was staring pointedly in another direction.

Right. Ginny Weasley. That had to be a sore point.

Awkward, considering he remembered killing her in this battle. But then, he supposed that was another bit of his father’s helpful editing, considering he had absolutely no recollection of cowering under a table for the duration of the fight.

“Let’s go,” he was the one who pulled them back out this time, and for several minutes after they returned, he didn’t bother to even attempt conversation with Harry, who was pale and looked as though he didn’t even know where he was. Finally, he coughed awkwardly and began shuffling papers together, not quite meeting Draco’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry spoke after a prolonged silence. “I…didn’t really want to go to that battle. I knew what I’d see, but I still…I don’t like watching my friends die.”

“Nor do I.” Draco admitted, “And we weren’t even friends, Finnegan and I.” Draco stopped himself when he realized he was babbling in an attempt to change the subject about what they were likely both thinking of.

“Well,” Harry forced one of the worst excuses for a smile Draco had ever seen before he stood with his gathered belongings. “I’ll be back as soon as I can get news from Pansy.”

“Tell her I said hello. And tell her she never visits, which isn’t very thoughtful.” Draco answered, feeling faintly stupid as he said it, but it elicited a genuine smile, which was worth it, really.

“I will.” Harry swept out of the room, and was replaced by a pair of guards to march him back to his cell.

----------

Harry was on his third coffee refill, and was beginning to make little towers of creamer pouches when Pansy finally arrived at their appointed meeting place, a little over forty minutes late.

“Sorry to be late.” She apologized without sounding like she meant it as he rose to shake her hand and they both took their seats. “I was delayed.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry inclined his head to one side, knowing that she had only been partway down Diagon Alley this entire time, working with some client or other. After many failed applications, she had been given a job as Madame Malkins’ assistant after dropping out of the Death Eaters before even receiving her mark. Harry knew what the atmosphere in the wizarding world was toward anyone even slightly associated with Voldemort. Though he was utterly dead, people were so worried about some third rising that they treated those who had survived and not been imprisoned as utter pariahs.

If I’m able to get Draco’s name clear, what sort of life will he be left with? At least in Azkaban he isn’t attacked on the street, he’s treated roughly like any other prisoner.

It was true that some people suspected of Death Eater activity but never imprisoned were now at risk simply walking down Diagon Alley or strolling through Hogsmeade. Madame Rosmerta, despite Harry’s best attempts to preach the power of forgiveness, would refuse all of them patronage. As such, they were often hard to track down, though Pansy, having had such a brief brush with the dark side, was relatively capable of a public life. Most of them were in hiding, living off of what fortunes they had left after the government helped itself to the better portion as “reparations.”

“How is he?” Harry saw in her eyes that he was wrong to worry she would not come to their meeting. Whatever their history in school or in the war, he was her only possibility of seeing Draco again, and it was no secret how she adored him since they were children. “I mean to say, is he treated well? Does he want for anything?”

“I’ve seen him looking better, to tell you the truth.” Harry was not going to lie to her. He was demanding complete honesty from her, and he would give her nothing less in return. “Azkaban is no summer resort, but at least he’s looking better than he would be if we hadn’t been able to get rid of the Dementors.”

“If you hadn’t been able to get rid of them, you mean.” She gave a smile then, a faded approximation of the memory he had of her taunting smirk from their school years. “Don’t be so modest, Mr. Potter.”

“Please, Pansy, there’s no need for formalities.” He leaned forward slightly after her coffee was left by the proprietor, “To tell you the truth, every time someone calls me that, I feel like they’ve mistaken me for someone twenty years older and ten times smarter.”

“Alright then, as you like it, Potter.” She made a face, “I’m sorry, I never really called you Harry.”

“No need, that’s good enough.” He smiled at her as she emptied three packets of cream in her coffee. “Not to switch gears abruptly, but I was told you could supply the truth of a portion of the Three Broomsticks Raid.”

“Ah,” she had just ripped open a packet of sugar so sharply it had spilled in her lap. She brushed the grains away, blushing. “Yes, yes I definitely saw what happened to two of Draco’s supposed victims. And he, the whole time, under a table.”

Harry chuckled at this. “Yeah, he was rather displeased to hear the truth of it. But I did tell him how he carried you to safety.” He assured her.

“Draco is a good man,” she set down the sugar packet she held and leaned forward, as though willing him to take her at her word. “He’s no coward, but he’s no monster either. He’s just as human as you or I.”

“I know. He’s stronger than you think,” Harry let her know. “Not many people could survive what he’s been through.”

“Let me ask you something, Potter,” Pansy left off stirring her coffee for a moment to give him a very exacting stare. “What is this for you? A game? A challenge? A distraction? Your next great mission? Is Draco a symbol or something like that to you? Do you think saving one Death Eater is a way to show the world how powerful you are?”

“I just think everyone should have a fair shot.” He answered, feeling vaguely embarrassed by the intensity of her gaze. “No matter what their name is, no matter what a snarky prat they were in school.”

“Innocent until proven otherwise?” she rested her cheek in one well-manicured hand.

“Exactly.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to think of the words to explain what he intended for Draco. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to save him, or that I don’t sometimes wish I could go back and save others that I feel weren’t given their due. I can’t say that he was my friend or that he ever will be. But I understand him, somehow, and I can’t just watch while someone like that is smashed out of our lives.” He chuckled and toyed with an empty creamer packet. “I know that probably sounds stupid, I’ve never been great with words.”

“No, I know what you mean.” He looked up to see a look he had never seen on her face before, a warm smile. “He can be spoiled rotten, and a royal pain, but he gets under your skin and you can’t just cast him aside.” There was a long silence. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, you don’t know what this means to Draco.” Harry helped her extract the memory right there in the corner café, bottling the silvery substance and placing it in his bag for safekeeping.

“I know there’s no way I can get in to see him.” Pansy grinned ruefully as they stood to part. “Please, if you could give him something personal from me?”

“Anything you’d like.” Harry agreed, and she lunged forward, hugging him so tightly he was shocked into speechlessness just as she pulled back and kissed his cheek.

“You can keep that last bit for yourself, I suppose.” She spoke in a low tone, winking at him. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, Potter, but with you on his side, I know I’ll be able to see Draco again, and for that, I’d give you a lot more than a peck on the cheek.”

“Uh…” Harry didn’t really know how to respond to this, but before he could think of anything she had one parting shot.

“Blaise Zabini saw Ginny go.” And there was really nothing he could say to that. By the time his mind started working again, he was already home.

*****

To be continued…