Broken Toy

Warnings: angst, violence, abuse, some romance, hurt/comfort, simply NC17…
Author's Notes:
At first, of course, special thanks for awesome ravenqueen55! Special this time because you betaed although you weren’t feeling well at all last week. I never expected the chapter back today, so feel *hugged tight*. -- No,better *hugged gently*!

Another thank you for lemonade8. You asked a harmless question -- what made the twins the way they are now? And gave me ideas… The result is the Last League, and I hope you are happy with it!

Sorry it took so long to update. I’ve had a very bad cough, and that meant no happy writings for two weeks! Grr!

I had some difficulties with chapter 30. Lately I’m stressing myself to finish the fic. Yes. I’m getting hysterical at my old age, *snickers* I wanted to put in as much as I could into the chapter. I almost decided to write a very long chap, when I came to a natural end. *g* You will like it. It’s, I’m afraid, one of my fav forms of ending a chap…

Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty

The nagging, jealous reaction which seemed inevitable each time somebody got too close to Harry, failed to materialize when Harry took Ron into his arms. Instead, Draco felt the strong urge to comfort the redhead himself. Ron was a picture of pure misery with his shoulders slumped down and his face a grimace of despair.

Draco couldn’t blame Ron. He had delivered “the spoon” in good faith; who could have expected that Blaise of all people had been the Auror in charge tonight?

Blaise… Draco’s mind still refused to accept the fact that Pickles -- greasy, nasty Pickles -- apparently was the same person as the highly respected, assumed-dead Alldrick Peens, and thus Blaise’s father. Had Blaise known all along that his father had feigned his death? Had Blaise known it at Hogwarts when they were supposed to be friends? Had Blaise known it when he had slammed the door in Draco’s face when he was desperately in need of help? Had Blaise known it when Draco had turned up at the Restricted Corner, down and beaten? Why hadn’t Blaise tried to convince him then to join their side? Draco had been a convicted Death Eater; he should have been regarded as a promising member of their conspiracy!

Draco sneered. What an absurd idea. Of course pure Death Eaters would never admit a loser in their midst. But it was funny, wasn’t it? Not even the Dark side wanted him. Draco had nothing to offer; nothing, to nobody…

“Draco!”

Damn. He hadn’t been paying attention, again. Harry stood in front of him, his worried eyes searching for Draco’s. Immediately Draco managed to produce a grimace that he hoped made him look attentive. His face screwed up the second Harry took hold of his arm and started to stroke it gently.

“Let’s go.” Draco couldn’t understand how Harry could talk that cheerfully. “The sooner we get there, the better. We still have a chance.” Shit. Draco really should try to stop daydreaming and listen to important conversations, as he had obviously missed a vital development.

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, intently scrutinizing Draco’s face. Why did Draco always feel so exposed when Harry looked at him that way? Draco’s hand jerked up to his neck and scratched it without any real need. Watching him, Harry’s features went soft, and the corners of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Draco didn’t know how, but Harry seemed to know Draco didn’t have a clue as to the latest proceedings. With a few words, casually spoken, but only meant for Draco so that the others wouldn’t regard him as the fool he felt, Harry clarified. “We were lucky that Ron was in a hurry, right? Of course he wanted to get back here as soon as possible. I just can’t get over it that he forced the spoon on Zabini, demanding that it had to be taken care of and treated as Security Level Three, and dashed off without any further explanation.”

Draco swallowed quickly, then hastened to nod in agreement. “Yes. I --“ Now Draco digested the latest news Harry had provided him with. “It’s simply hilarious that Blaise most probably stored his father away securely!” Draco couldn’t help it; he giggled hysterically.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a quick, final discussion they got ready to take off. They agreed they would Disapparate in pairs, taking Fred, George and Draco side-along.

Draco was looking forward to the short but close body contact with Harry the uncomfortable act of Apparating would include. He couldn’t help it; he was grinning stupidly with anticipation.

Neville, seizing a dazed looking Fred in a tight hold, Disapparated almost simultaneously with Ron, who clutched a pale George to his side.

Awaiting Harry’s energetic grip on his arm, Draco was annoyed that Harry started to fumble around with the hems of his shirt, then tried to flatten the creased fabric with his open palms. In Draco’s opinion that was most unnecessary; they were both wearing the same clothes they’d had on for days, and trying to smooth them wouldn’t improve their dishevelled appearance at all.

With an encouraging wave, Hermione disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry immediately stopped fussing around with his shirt and looked up at Draco. All efficiency was swept off his face; his brow was slightly furrowed, and his eyes seemed to be huge behind his glasses.

“Sorry,” Harry’s arms spread out wide, and words were tumbling out of his mouth in rapid succession. “I know there isn’t much time, and we’ve to hurry, and -- ah -- sorry, but would you mind taking me into your arms? Just once? Just briefly? Just -- sorry, but -- but I need your hug so badly.”

Not waiting for Draco’s reaction, Harry stood on tiptoe and slung his arms around the nape of Draco’s neck, pressing his heated face close to Draco’s throat. The tickling of quick breaths, the sensation of soft lips touching his skin, the sudden warmth of the body close to his just did it. Draco’s arms flung around Harry’s waist and embraced him ferociously.

A perfervid, throaty sound -- now who had uttered it? -- made them cling to each other even more fiercely. It was when Harry’s hands went up to Draco’s head and started to tug zealously at his hair that Draco couldn’t help kneading Harry’s back, groping for sinews and muscles, wanting to feel the bones underneath, longing to have Harry even more close to him, yearning to take him up, to absorb him, aching for…

“Draco?”

His name was enunciated like a caress, incredibly tender, touching something inside of him which threatened to explode right away. Draco tore his eyes open; slightly befuddled; he couldn’t remember when he had closed them. The unexpected impact of sudden light forced him to blink, and his heartbeat started to race.

Harry’s face, slightly upturned, was right in front of him. His green eyes were opened wide, sparkling in a strange, but somehow well known way, drawing him closer. Draco’s heart was definitely pounding way too fast, and its frightening pace made him gasp for air. He could hear the beat in his ears, lowly, but persistently, and unquestionably it was about ready to overturn any minute. He couldn’t bear the pressure in his chest any longer; he had to get away from that stare, hide from the expectant gaze that required an answer.

It was better to look anywhere but at that intense expression.

His nervous eyes fell upon Harry’s slightly parted lips. They looked soft and inviting.

And they were quivering.

Anticipating lips… His heartbeat slowed down; panic vanished as quickly as it had arrived. He knew his way with anticipating lips. No need to feel scared. He smirked confidently. Before he bent his head down, he risked another swift glance into Harry’s upturned face. Draco’s smirk deepened, knowing then that he shouldn’t have worried. There was definitely no need to run and hide. Nothing was demanded of him that he couldn’t provide. It was just a kiss. He was ready to devour Harry’s mouth, conquer his tongue, and eat him up, passionately.

Instead Draco surprised himself by only grazing Harry’s lips, making sure the touch was as light as a feather. Bewildered, Draco paused, then raised his head, anxious to analyze the expression of Harry’s features. They hadn’t changed. Harry’s eyes were still wandering over Draco’s face as if caressing it, and he was smiling softly.

Why the heck was Draco worried?

Draco bent his head down once more, determined to let his teeth sink into the soft lips, nag them, tease them, lick, and suck them until the inevitable moan followed, the moan of longing and need.

He couldn’t do it. As soon as his nose touched Harry’s, as soon as he sensed Harry’s breath against his face, he couldn’t do it.

Slowly, Draco covered Harry’s mouth completely with his lips. It was amazing how good it felt to touch those lips just lightly, then move a bit to the side, and adjust his lips carefully again. The left corner of Harry’s mouth felt unaccustomed to his touch. Curious. Had he never kissed the tiny gap before? It felt so sweet, so cute, so pure. He kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth again. And again, just to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. Then Draco’s lips lightly stroked across Harry’s mouth towards the other corner, pausing midway, nibbling hesitantly, and then moving on. And yes, the other corner of Harry’s mouth felt just as good and cute to his touch.

Instinctively, Draco covered Harry’s mouth completely, and, encouraged by a small sigh, he increased the soft pressure. Without further ado he cupped Harry’s face and rained a series of little kisses down, determined to cover every single spot of skin. He shuddered when Harry’s hands grabbed for Draco’s face as well; thumbs were stroking his cheekbones, fingers caressing his cheeks and parts of his throat.

“We’ve got to go.”

Draco heard Harry’s mumbled words, but he didn’t want to listen; he didn’t want to stop. His hands increased the pressure around Harry’s face more than necessary. He didn’t care at all for the yelp of surprise. He pressed his mouth compellingly upon Harry’s; with his teeth he forced Harry’s lips to part, pushing his tongue in deep.

All he knew was that he wanted, he needed a real kiss now. He had to make him… He had to make him see… He needed… And he didn’t care if he had to…

His head was pulled downwards by his hair, and his tongue was sucked in with full force. His lips cried out in pain, but he didn’t mind; he sucked and bit and licked just like Harry did.

They let go of each other at the same time, stumbling one step backwards, breathing heavily.

And at the same time, staring at each other’s faces, they smiled.

They were ready to Disapparate.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On a Saturday night, the Atrium was deserted.

Nothing could be heard except the water spraying down the fountain in a constant flow. There wasn’t the usual bustling of cloaks and clatter of footsteps as witches and wizards rushed by to their various destinations, chatting and discussing animatedly. No notes were flapping through the air at high speed, and the well known, persistent rattling of ascending and descending lifts was missing.

There wasn’t a soul there except them, a group of wide eyed, nervous wizards.

“What took you so long? We were worried,” Ron’s voice came as a shock, echoing in the silence. Ron grimaced guiltily, then continued in a hushed tone. “Hermione’s already off to alarm Callidus, Shacklebolt, and, of course, the Minister.”

“Good.” Harry’s voice was calm; miraculously he was back to his efficient self again. Solemnly, he got his wand at the ready. “There isn’t any time to lose. Any suggestions?” Draco was thankful that Harry hadn’t tried to explain their delay.

“I thought it best we wait until Shacklebolt arrives with some of his Aurors, and then we can go up to…” Neville was cut short by Ron.

“Codswallop,” Ron’s eyes were sparkling with anger. “I already told you we can’t wait. We’ve got to act right away. We handled other situations in the past well enough and we’ll manage this one well enough, too.-- Don’t you think, Harry?”

Draco licked his lips nervously; he dreaded the upcoming confrontation with Blaise. But what made him even more anxious was the possibility that Blaise and his father had already escaped, and there wouldn’t be any chance for justice. He licked his lips again. Ouch. His lower lip was swollen on the left side.

“Agreed,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “What about them?” Impatiently, he waved his wand into the direction of the twins.

Since Harry and Draco had entered Harry’s living room - which seemed to be ages ago -, the twins hadn’t uttered a single syllable. Instead, they had acted as if they had been stunned, and had obeyed any order without hesitation. Now, watching Harry swishing his wand hectically in front of their noses, their features came to life. They faced each other curtly, nodded as if in agreement, and turned towards Harry.

“We can help,” Fred announced.

“We belong to the Auror Office, too,” George added quickly. “It won’t seem unusual if we show up at the Office at night.”

“We can pretend we’ve received special instructions to collect the spoon,” Fred suggested eagerly.

“We often run odd errands for the Office, so it won’t seem strange if we’re there,” George put in quietly.

“Blaise won’t be suspicious, believe me,” Fred shot out, nodding his head rapidly.

“I don’t trust you anymore.” Although Ron had tried to reply coolly, his voice wavered slightly when he addressed his brothers.

“Ron…” George’s respond sounded strained.

Immediately Fred took over. “Ron, we know we balled it up, and we are ready to face the music. When this is over, we will give in to the officials right away. We are ready to accept any sentence, any sentence at all. Believe us.” Fred spread his hand out. “Please!”

“Being locked away might help us…” George whispered tonelessly.

“I don’t trust you any more,” Ron repeated harshly. With an abrupt motion, he pulled out his wand.

“Wait a minute…” Harry interrupted, moving closer to Ron. His face was ashen when he put his hand on Ron’s arm. He squeezed it too hard; Draco could see Ron flinch in reaction. “You…” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he watched the twin’s faces keenly. “Are you sure Zabini will believe you? That you are here under a ‘special directive’? ” Why did Harry emphasize the last two words so peculiarly?

The twins nodded in unison.

“Because you were entrusted with special, odd errands for the Auror’s Office before?” Harry inquired slowly, his face full of attention. Again he laid stress upon a part of his question in a strange way.

The twins repeated their simultaneous nod.

Harry’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say a word; instead he was breathing quickly. Deep in thought, he started to nag his lower lip. Wincing unconsciously, his hand shot up, rubbing his mouth. Heat rushed into Draco’s face. The right side of Harry’s lower lip was swollen; it matched Draco’s throbbing mark. Draco’s flush deepened.

“I never knew. I never dreamed…” Harry muttered to himself. He puckered his brow so vehemently that his glasses slid down his nose. Impatiently, Harry pushed them up again. “Why didn’t I know?” Harry’s voice sounded odd, holding a note Draco had never heard before. Something enclosed Draco’s insides, hard and cold, and all at once he felt scared. “The League. The Last League?”

Another nod from the twins.

“Seamus and Zabini, too.“ This time it wasn’t a question, but the twins nodded nevertheless.

Harry squared his shoulders with a jolt, and Ron flinched; Harry had once again squeezed his arm. Draco’s unaccountable feeling of fear increased; it didn’t help at all when Harry shot a sidelong glance towards Draco. On the contrary, it made him even more worried.

When Harry finally spoke, nothing of the horror Draco had seen flaring up ever briefly in the emerald eyes could be detected. “Ron, your brothers know that it’s vital that justice takes its course. I’m sure they will help us.”

It was obvious that Ron wanted to argue, but whatever he intended to retort was cut off by Harry.

“They know the consequences if they don’t.”

Draco shivered. Something frosty had crept down his spine, slowly but relentlessly, making his skin explode with gooseflesh. He was terrified. It hadn’t been Harry’s words alone that had caused the sudden panic, or how he had said them.

The origin of the iciness all around him had been radiating directly off Harry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They held their breath when Fred and George strolled into the office of the Auror in Charge. Tension was high; they all hoped their hastily laid out plan would work out.

The twins had left the door slightly ajar, so the group outside could follow the goings on, well hidden in the shadows of the dark hallway. Harry, Ron and Neville had their wands at the ready, prepared to intervene in case the going got tough. Or - though nobody had mentioned that option openly - in case the twins had foul play in mind.

“Hiya, Blaise!” That was Fred, addressing Zabini carelessly.

Draco closed his eyes with relief. Blaise was still in the office. With all his might he crossed his fingers, hoping intently luck wouldn’t desert them.

“Old Calli told us you’ve something new under safety catch tonight,” George said casually. Despite the oppressing tension Draco had to grin wanly. He was sure Hermione would be disgusted if she knew her boss, Honourable Judge Callidus, Head of the Magical Office of Law, was nicknamed so disrespectfully.

“Why, yes,” Blaise’s answer sounded a bit sleepy. Clearly the twins had surprised him with their sudden appearance, interrupting a late-night-at-duty-nap.

“Well, we’re here to collect it. Now what was it exactly, George, a spoon?” Fred asked his brother in a bored voice.

“Hm, yeah, a silver spoon,” George answered quite uninterested.

“It needs to be investigated, you know?” Fred put in.

“A special investigation, you understand?” George added indifferently. “Where is it? I understood it was classified as Security Level Three, so I reckon it’s in the Interim Safety Chamber?”

“Why, yes, of course…” Blaise’s voice still sounded drowsy.

Draco was jubilant. The git didn’t have a clue what had happened! Excited, he grabbed for Harry’s hand in the dark. It was squeezed immediately in return.

The twin’s next remarks were fired off rapidly on purpose.

“Right, then.”

“Don’t know why, but Calli wants us to report on that thingy.”

“Could have imagined a different sort of amusement for us tonight, but as it is…”

“…we’ve got to fetch it.”

“What’s the password for tonight?”

“Oboedientia Maxima, but you should know that!” Blaise replied at once, thrown by the last question. His curiosity got the better of him. “Why is this spoon so important? Ron brought it here about an hour ago. He seemed to be very excited. Has it got something to do with Harry’s disappearance? Tell me!”

They didn’t wait to listen to whatever the twins answered. As fast as they could they rushed down the hallway towards the adjoining door which Fred previously had indicated.

The door of the Interim Safety Chamber opened at once to Harry’s command. Now they just had to grab the spoon and…

Their faces fell. Innumerous boxes in all possible sizes were illuminated by their wands, tidily stored away on dozens of shelves, set up from bottom to ceiling. Draco bit into his fist to suppress a cry of despair. How, for Merlin’s sake, could they find the spoon as quickly as possible?

“I would try to summon it,” Harry hissed, “but I never touched nor saw the blasted spoon. So the chances that it will obey to my charm are uncertain. At any rate, it would take too long trying. -- Ron?”

“Give me your wand, I will do it,” Draco blurted out, grabbing for Harry’s arm. “I transfigured him, so…”

“The fuck you will,” Ron interrupted him harshly. “You’ve done enough damage tonight; you won’t add another crime to your account.” To stress his point, Ron poked his wand painfully into Draco’s middle. “I’ll do it. I handled the blasted thing long enough.”

Ron? Ron Weasley? Draco had seen enough of Weaselby’s embarrassing displays of spells that went astray at Hogwarts. They couldn’t afford any mistakes now!

Frantically, Draco pushed Ron’s wand hand away. “I know I can do it! I can…“ Harry caught Draco’s arm in a tight grip, pulling him close. “Stop it, silly,” Harry’s voice was right beside his ear. “He’s my best Hit Wizard. Trust him. He’ll manage.”

Enraged, Draco tried to free himself from Harry’s clutch. Didn’t Harry see that the Weaselby would mess it up? There was too much at stake to rely on the weasel’s abilities; how did Harry fail to understand? Draco knew he could do it; he would have done it already if they just had let him… Didn’t Harry trust him enough? Didn’t Harry…

“Draco, Ron’s right. No more magic for you tonight.” All fight left Draco when Harry kissed him quickly on his cheek. “I’ve already enough on my hands to get you off…”

“Accio Spoon,” Ron’s yell echoed down the dim lit chamber.

Nothing happened.

Tears of frustration threatened to shoot into Draco’s eyes. The dimwit. Draco could have done better than that. He knew it! Why hadn’t Harry let him? Draco easily could have…

On their left, one of the smaller boxes tumbled down from the top of a shelf, breaking apart when it hit the stone floor. Something tiny, flickering silvery in the dark shadows of the passage, soared up from the ground, swirled through the air and landed right in Ron’s outstretched hand.

“Got it,” Ron roared with triumph, clasping his fingers around the still twirling item.

Neville applauded enthusiastically, his round face full of joy. “You’ve done it! Weasley is our king!” Laughing heartedly, he rushed towards Ron. Beaming proudly, Ron opened his arms to receive Neville’s embrace when Neville stumbled.

It happened too fast.

Never noticing the red light which had struck Neville’s back, Ron’s hands let go of what they held to catch his friend’s fall. Both wand and spoon produced a hollow sound when they hit the ground, spinning around a few times before rolling off slowly into the grey shadows, vanishing from sight.

“Malfoy!”

Blaise’s face was contorted with hate. Where the heck had he come from so suddenly? Draco stared back into the dark eyes of his former friend, unable to move, unable to defend himself.

“You damn whore, ruining everything,” Blaise’s wand was directed at Draco’s throat. “I should have done you in before -- Avada…”

About a dozen stunners hissed through the air, lighting up the room with an unreal reddish light, gleaming too bright. But it was Harry’s clenched fist that actually knocked Blaise down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had assembled in Judge Callidus’s office. It was a bit crowded, and they had to move the furniture around to create enough space for all, but it had been the nearest and most convenient place to go.

Draco felt numb. He was thankful he had been one of the first to enter the office. That way he had been pushed towards the far end of the room, near to the windows. Gratefully, he half sat on the windowsill, trying to comprehend the latest events. Blaise had been aroused by the noise the box made when it tumbled down the shelf, and the twins had been too slow to hold him back.

In Draco’s mind, Blaise’s hateful expression turned up again and again. You damn whore. Damn whore. Whore. Should have done you in. You whore. Draco closed his eyes. He couldn’t prevent himself shivering. Avada Kedavra. It had been so close, so close. His eyes burned, and he tried to blink the uncalled for tears of exhaustion away. If it hadn’t been for Harry… Oh yes, there wasn’t any mistake about that. Draco saw it clearly with his mind’s eye, again and again. Blaise’s expression full of hate; should have done you in. Then Blaise’s face was concealed by something black; it was the back of Harry’s head as he had jumped in between them. Avada… It had been so close… Blaise had pointed his wand at Harry instead of him. Avada Kedavra.

Draco still couldn’t understand why Harry hadn’t used his wand to defend them. There had been time enough for Expelliarmus. Or not? Be as it may, Harry’s Muggle-like behaviour had been most effective.

Harry had rammed his elbow backwards before he had knocked Blaise down. Draco had lost his balance because of the violent impact, and had landed most ungracefully on his butt. Although his chest and backside hurt like hell, he had been more than satisfied when he heard Blaise’s jaw break. What a fantastic sound, that crack… Draco hadn’t known that Blaise was such a sissy; he hadn’t much stamina. Blaise had toppled over immediately and passed out cold when his head hit the ground.

Before Harry had rushed off to retrieve the blasted spoon, he had checked on Draco. “Sorry,” Harry had said, helping Draco up to his feet. “It was my temper, of course… I had to get you out of the firing line, and I had to disarm the bloody traitor.” Harry had given him a crooked smile. “If I was still working as an Auror, I would have to face a hearing now, analyzing my reactions…” Harry had scratched his neck, displaying his embarrassment. “Are you all right?” When Draco had nodded, Harry had added, “I owe you one now. Hit me whenever and wherever you want!” Then he had been off.

As if Draco could hurt Harry just for petty vengeance! He shook his head. He could never hurt Harry! Harry… Where was Harry? Draco couldn’t see him in the crowd. Immediately that well known feeling of loneliness spread through his insides. Craning his neck, he scrutinized the room more carefully. He couldn’t see Harry’s black shock of hair anywhere.

“Everything’s all right with you?” Draco’s head shot around towards the source of the soft voice. Harry was right beside him! Just like Draco he was half sitting on the window sill, leaning his back against the window pane. His expression was worried. “You don’t look good. You’re pale.” It sounded like an accusation.

To hell with his complexion! “Where the heck did you come from?” Draco blurted out, suddenly angry without any real reason.

Harry puckered his brow curtly, then shrugged his shoulders. “Well, actually I was born at…” Draco’s wild stare cut him short. “Sorry. I thought a little joke might cheer you up.” Harry sighed and moved closer until their thighs touched. “Want me to sum up the situation?” Draco nodded eagerly.

“Well,” Harry reached out for Draco’s hand and pulled it close to him, enfolding it with both of his hands. “I handed the pickle-spoon over to Sitara -- err -- the Minister. You know her?” Draco’s eyes swept through the room until he found her. He nodded.

“By the way,” Harry went on, “just to let you know who’s here.” Never letting go of Draco’s hand, Harry indicated the persons he was naming by pointing his head in their direction. “There’s the Minister, then Shacklebolt, surrounded by six of his Aurors. I know them. Capable wizards. -- Speaking of Aurors… Fred and George are already in custody, right now they are being questioned by Shacklebolt’s deputy. -- You can’t see Blaise from here. They stunned him for good measure, even though I’d knocked him out. He’s softly sleeping in that big, green chair over there. I hope he’s having nightmares.” Draco was slightly distracted. His hand was resting on Harry’s thigh, and Harry had started to fondle it gently. The soothing effect of the touch was amazing. “Hermione’s filling Callidus in, and the old bloke next to them is Senilius Bones. I bet he doesn’t understand a single word.” Harry chuckled.

“They will re-transfigure Peens now.” The fondling of Draco’s hand stopped. “Want to watch?”

Draco shook his head. “No, not really. I’ve seen enough of him for a lifetime. -- But don’t you have to be there? I mean, isn’t it your job to supervise and help?” The fondling of his hand resumed. Harry’s thumb was gently drawing little circles on the back of Draco’s hand.

“No, all the biggies are here. They’ll manage all right, trust me. There’ll be an interrogation, and then father and son will get a first class ticket to Azkaban. They’ll stay there until their trial, and I’m sure The Kiss will be their reward. No need for me to participate. And, besides…” Harry grinned, “I already saved the world, remember?” Draco wasn’t amused at all.

“What will happen to Fred and George?” Draco wanted to know.

Immediately Harry’s small smile disappeared from his face. “Fred and George…” He sighed. “It’s difficult. Especially after what I found out tonight...” His voice trailed away. Draco’s look encouraged Harry to continue.

“Ever heard of the Last League? ” Draco shook his head. “No, of course not. Only a few people know about its existence. And that’s quite all right. In my opinion, such a society should never have been founded at all. It’s a crime!” Agitated, Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. “It was founded during the war by the Ministry. It’s a secret society, consisting of hand-picked wizards and witches. They were trained in a special way...” Harry stopped to breathe deeply, then continued, “…to fulfil special orders.” Harry’s nostrils twitched slightly. “During the war several Death Eaters were captured who withstood all conventional interrogation methods. The Ministry was desperate.” Harry cleared his throat; he seemed to find it difficult to proceed. “Draco, they were trained to torture!”

Draco understood at once. There had been similar “educational” methods amongst the Death Eaters; Father had told him all about it. Not every Dark witch or wizard was endowed with characteristics such as natural cruelty, mercilessness or recklessness. But it could be trained, oh yes, it could be trained; Father had assured him. Draco had always wondered what it was like to lose one’s conscience. Was it possible to shut it out briefly, as long as it was “necessary”, and then continue to live as before? Was it possible to deliberately torment another human being one minute and the next, hum a tune, kiss the wife, cradle the baby, and enjoy the sunset? Or was the conscience lost for good?

Thinking about Fred and George, considering what he knew about them, and comparing their behaviour at Hogwarts to today, Draco was convinced he now knew the answer: No. For those who had to be trained, it wasn’t possible to harm somebody else on purpose and then unscathed, live happily ever after.

As much as Draco had wanted to get revenge on the twins, he pitied them now. He didn’t know why, but he was sure that the Last League had left both men mentally disturbed and in desperate need of professional assistance. Being locked away might help us. George’s remark tonight seemed to confirm Draco’s reflections.

Suddenly Draco got angry. Dark wizards were notorious for their cruelty, nothing less than malice and ruthlessness could be expected from any of them. But if the Ministry, the symbol for justice and virtue, chose to adopt similar methods, there was definitely something wrong. It made them no better than any Dark wizard performing Crucio.

Such a society should never have been founded. It’s a crime! Harry’s bitter remark echoed in Draco’s brain. If he, Draco, was outraged, what must a sensitive soul like Harry feel?

All of a sudden Draco understood everything. His heart started to beat faster.

That was why Harry was living his life as a reclusive in his pretty little cottage, far away from the world, preferring the company of maimed animals to that of humans. Harry’s past plus his experiences during the war had left him shaken, and Draco didn’t intend to play down those facts. But Harry had told him that he had admitted himself to St. Mungo’s to get himself under control, but had left again.

Draco sneered sympathetically. Harry didn’t want to socialize and be socialized if socializing meant living in a deceitful world. Draco could understand so well!

Something inside of him started to ache, upsetting his stomach and making his heartbeat double in speed. Draco understood Harry so well! Draco had to tell him; he had to discuss everything that was on his mind, right now. Harry had to know he understood!

Excitedly clutching Harry’s hands in return, Draco turned around. “Harry, I --”

A jet of green light illuminated the ceiling, and Hermione’s terrified scream made Draco’s blood freeze in his veins.

“HAR-REEEEEEEEEEE!”