Broken Toy

Warnings: angst, violence, abuse, some romance, hurt/comfort, simply NC17…
Author's Notes:

Here it is: The last chapter of Broken Toy. I still can’t believe it that I finally managed to end the story, *g* There will be an epilogue, and it is necessary, because the story ends with Draco-- but, read for yourself. The epilogue is already finished, btw. I’ll post it as soon as a special lady has approved of it.

Enjoy the last chapter!

Chapter Thirty-Three

Even before Draco opened his eyes, he was certain he was alone. He didn’t have to look up to make sure that the bed beside him was deserted. It wasn’t because no arms were enclosing him; Draco just knew Harry had left.

The corners of his mouth twitched.

There wasn’t a reason for annoyance. He had had a good night’s rest, and he had made Harry his. That’s what he had wanted. So where did that nagging feeling of disappointment come from?

But, of course. It was because Draco had assumed Harry would behave in a certain way. As Harry was a hopelessly romantic fool, Draco had expected “the morning after” spent with a lot of snuggling and cuddling. He was definitely more overwrought than he had thought.

So Harry had left early, and Draco would be sentenced today. So what? He had managed other, far more serious situations quite easily. That trial wasn’t a big deal, right? He didn’t need encouragement from Harry. He didn’t need support from anybody, in fact. It was time to--

“Breakfast’s ready!”

Orange juice, tea, milk, coffee. Toast, croissants, bread. Scrambled eggs, fried eggs, cooked eggs. Bacon, sausages, kidney pie. Butter, honey, marmalade.

A shirt carelessly thrown over his shoulders, Harry squatted beside the bed, alternately watching the overloaded tray and Draco.

“Sorry,” Harry smiled shyly. “I know I exaggerated. I just thought I’d bring everything we might fancy.”

Actually, there was just one dish Draco cared about. He couldn’t help telling Harry so and grinned happily when Harry, although blushing, returned a delighted laughter.

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

Nobody said a word.

They were sitting on the bench in the garden, close together; both formally dressed in black cloaks and suits, white shirts and black ties. It was utterly idiotic and childish, but Draco wished he could lay his arm around Harry’s shoulders, pull his head to his neck, and ruffle his hair one last time. But that definitely would disarrange Harry’s perfect look, so Draco restrained himself. They were ready to go. There was only a quarter of an hour left before they had to head off for the Ministry.

“You’re scared,” Harry stated, breaking the silence.

He was right, but how could Harry know? Draco had always wondered how Harry seemed to be exactly in the picture about Draco’s moods or state of mind.

“I can feel it.” Only Harry had the ability to let Draco lose his composure. Harry was not only aware of Draco’s emotions, but obviously he could read his mind, too. - How?

Harry took Draco’s hands into his, and Draco knew he was smiling without having to turn his head to look at him.

“It’s mutual, you know? We can feel each other’s emotions, as well sometimes feeling what the other’s thinking, especially when we’re agitated. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed yet.”

Draco couldn’t deny it; it had happened too often in the past. But to accept a fact like that was creepy, and Draco wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“It helped a lot in the past; you helped me a lot in the past, you know?” Harry’s voice was low, but insistent.

Draco puckered his brow. Harry had helped him on countless occasions, that was true, but Draco couldn’t recall a single situation when it had been the other way around. When was he supposed to have helped Harry?

“You’re oblivious to almost anything, right?” Harry chuckled softly. “Don’t you remember the meeting the other day at the Ministry, when I was almost freaking out? I was furious that time, without a doubt I was about to snap, but somebody’s voice held me back, brought me back to my senses. Your voice, Draco.”

Of course Draco remembered that day. But later on he had been convinced he had imagined it all. It had been just too - creepy.

“And didn’t you notice I haven’t freaked out again lately? Since you’re with me, really with me? There have been many times to cause an outbreak of my temper, oh yes, but you always held me back.”

Draco had to confess that he didn’t exactly understand what Harry was talking about. He shifted in his seat, embarrassed, staring at the magnificent flowerbed ahead of him without really seeing it. He hated it when he felt like a clueless child.

“But how?” His question plainly displaying his ignorance, Draco nevertheless had to know. “How is that possible?”

“Don’t you really know?” Harry sounded curious. Without doubt he had raised his eyebrows.

“The bond?” Draco asked, uncertain.

“Codswallop! The bond, honestly!” Draco flinched at Harry’s indignant retort. “There’s no bond any more, silly, remember?”

Draco couldn’t deny that.

“Some kind of magic?” Draco tried to guess again.

Harry sighed and let go of Draco’s hands. Immediately the feeling of being utterly stupid increased. The heat of humiliation reddened his face, his ears itched uncomfortably; too much blood had rushed into them too fast. Draco folded his hands in his lap, dropping his gaze. He was sure he looked like the imbecile he felt.

Harry’s quick kiss on his cheek caught him by surprise; instinctively Draco turned his head to face Harry. His green eyes were sparkling, and immediately Draco suspected amusement. But Harry wasn’t making fun; his expression was solemn, and Draco’s stomach reacted with the well-known painful, but exultant somersault.

“Yes, Draco. It is indeed magic. Very ancient magic, in fact. Innumerable wizards and witches have been trying to uncover the countless secrets of it, but in vain. It’s one of the most powerful enchantments existing.”

“What’s it called?” Draco held his breath. The mentioning of most powerful enchantments always excited him.

“Love, Draco.” Harry winked at him. “Simply love.”

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

Draco tried to suppress his shudder, but it was futile. Harry had interpreted his emotions correctly in the garden; Draco was scared stiff. It didn’t help him at all that Harry squeezed his hand firmly when they entered Courtroom Ten in the Department of Mysteries. On the contrary, the feeling of desperation increased when Harry let go of his hand and vanished somewhere behind him.

Heart beating in his throat, Draco stood alone in the middle of the courtroom.

The time had come at last.

Taking a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders, he raised his chin resolutely to face the Wizengamot.

He knew he had his facial features under control when his eyes surveyed the dungeon. Nothing of his inner turmoil could be discerned; instead he was sure he successfully displayed the famous Malfoy pride and arrogance.

The courtroom hadn’t changed since his previous trial. The dark walls, dimly lit by torches, still looked intimidating, without doubt set up to stress the hostility of the atmosphere. Wooden benches rose on either side as well as ahead of him, occupied by numerous witches and wizards. He squinted, but couldn’t make out a face; the figures of the audience were cast in shadows, plus quite a few of the persons were hooded.

Silence fell, due to sudden movement up above on the benches ahead of Draco, where he knew the Chief Warlock was seated.

“Everybody’s ready?” A female voice, clear as a bell, rang out in the silence.

Draco knew that voice, but today it sounded different. It held a cold, forbidding note, unlike the melodious quality Draco had noticed when he had last met Sitara Patil.

Well, she had to sound efficient, she was Minister of Magic after all, Draco tried to reassure himself. It had nothing to do with prejudiced opinions.

Although his insides were cramped into a knot never to be disentangled again, Draco looked up into the stern face of the Minister with what he hoped came across as sincere and trusting.

“Trial of the 29th of August,” Patil stated coolly, surveying Draco’s erect form sceptically, clearly unimpressed by his frank manner. Draco’s heart started to beat double time. The collar of his shirt suddenly felt too tight around his neck, suffocating him.

“Draco Malfoy,” Patil continued, “you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities on XX of August. You stand accused of using a wand knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions. You are further accused of using Apparation knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions. In addition you are accused of performing magic knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions. In detail, the spells you are accused of using are the Disarming Charm, the…”

Draco swallowed hard. He couldn’t concentrate on the cool voice anymore, monotonously listing up his offences.

With unerring certainty Draco suddenly knew that he dreaded to be sentenced more than anything else in the world. Over the last few days he had taken the probability of being convicted lightly. He had deliberately played down the threat of the most likely punishment; successfully repressing any serious thought about it and thus had fooled himself, wasting precious time, neglecting to think up an effective defence. He had convinced himself that he could take any verdict, and arrogantly he had stuck to the self-delusion of enduring another imprisonment easily. He had talked himself into believing that it wouldn’t affect him, for, after all, he had been ill treated and abused since he was a child.

What a fool he had been!

Images of a bright, blue sky flashed through his mind, followed by memories of two dogs jumping up at him, trying to lick his face enthusiastically. Then there was a pair of bright, emerald eyes with an expression too amazing to be true, and recollections of tender kisses, warm embraces, and a gentle, sympathetic voice. There were Gwenny and Lance, shaking his hand, treating him as if he was a friend; Hermione Weasley winking at him; Harry’s cosy cottage, a place which lately he had started to think about as ‘home’.

A life, a real life, a happy life had been possible; it had been close within range. The only thing he had to do was reach out and hold on to it as tight as possible. Instead, he deliberately had pushed his chance away.

Sudden realization was horrible, and comprehension tormented his insides like physical pain. For finally the meaning of Harry’s words, talking of clever plans and efforts to scare him off, made sense.

Draco had known all along that his emotional inner life was in disorder. But he hadn’t expected himself to be that messed up. How had Harry been able to see through him when Draco couldn’t? But, of course. How thick could one be? He had told Harry himself!

They had talked about their wishes and fears. Draco had confessed that he, when threatened by danger, escaped to a hide-out somewhere inside his mind. He had told Harry that he was able to switch off any feeling, and hide where no one could harm him, where it was safe. Not feeling anything meant safety.

Living with Harry had jeopardized Draco’s simple concept of life. The last weeks had been a rollercoaster of emotions; never before had Draco felt as intense as he had lately. From experience Draco was convinced that emotions were dangerous, they made him vulnerable; too likely was the possibility of being harmed, hurt or betrayed.

It had been vital for Draco to protect himself. It was better to scare Harry off; better try to destroy what Harry believed was love, better escape to his emotion-free hide-out where it was safe.

He had survived abuse and humiliation, had endured imprisonment and external control, and had considered himself victorious. How thick could one be?

If he had only realized his cowardness at an earlier time; if he had only been brave enough to question his own motives! Just to be ‘safe’, he had wasted precious time. And now that he was ready to dare the risks of a real life, it was too late. Even his sharp Slytherin self couldn’t think up a defence fast enough to prevent his conviction.

Furious tears welled up in his eyes. Draco clenched his teeth, forcing the tears back. He wouldn’t show weakness. Now that he knew what a unique chance he had wasted, he was more scared than ever. But he wouldn’t show weakness; he would meet his defeat with his head held up high; he would--

“Mr Malfoy? Sir? Did you hear me? Do you intend to put up a defence?”

It seemed as if the Minister had been addressing him for quite a time. Draco’s mind raced, frantically searching for a way out. It was hopeless. No clever strategy was offered by his Slytherin self.

“The defence of Mr Malfoy will be represented by Harry James Potter,” said a quiet, well-known voice beside Draco.

How could Draco have forgotten Harry’s pathological urge to help? He should have known that Harry would interfere in one way or the other.

Although Draco doubted that Harry could influence his verdict, his mere presence set him at ease immediately. The trial was easier to bear if he didn’t have to face it alone.

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

The next hour went by as if in a dream.

With a brilliant speech Draco hadn’t thought Harry was capable of, Harry outlined his case. Draco’s birth and upbringing were summarized, his hopeful future career as a wizard was sketched, his allegedly outstanding magical abilities as a student at Hogwarts were stressed. Draco heard how he was influenced by a dominant father, how he was brainwashed daily and unobtrusively, but steadily introduced to the Dark Arts. Blackmail forced Draco to serve the Dark Lord, which led to the death of Albus Dumbledore. After the war, left an orphan, Draco was, as known, caught, convicted and deprived of his rights as a wizard. Pickles aka Landers and his evil schemes were discussed concisely; the effects of the bond were explained.

Then Harry recounted their imprisonment in Pickles’s cellar. It was amazing, Harry just stated plain facts, but the intentional lack of emotions made his narration even more terrible than if he had given the horrific details.

When Harry finished, Draco believed every word Harry brought forward: Draco Malfoy couldn’t be blamed. He, Harry James Potter, had ordered Draco Malfoy to get him out of captivity. The bond had made it impossible to refuse to comply. The only way out had been by means of magic. So Draco Malfoy had been forced to violate the law knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions. He had to do it in order to save Harry Potter’s life. Draco Malfoy had sacrificed his own welfare in order to rescue another person. Only a true wizard could act likewise. Draco Malfoy wasn’t a criminal; he was a hero. It wasn’t right for him to receive a punishment for his actions; he had to be honoured for his outstanding bravery.

“Naturally the Council of Magical Law expects me to prove the course of events I outlined.” Draco flinched along with everyone else in the audience when Harry dramatically produced a small phial.

“Here. Is. Your. Proof.” With each word Harry shook the fist clasping the phial in the direction of the Minister. “This tiny, inconspicuous bottle of glass contains my personal memory of the previously described events. I strongly recommend that the Chief Warlock allows me to call for a Pensieve, and that she convinces herself by an inspection of my memory.”

Draco regarded it as a good sign that the Chief Warlock relinquished her right to exanimate Harry’s memory. The testimony of Harry James Potter, taking his reputation into account, was considered to be satisfactory. The phial was added as evidence.

Then Harry announced witnesses for the defence. Draco was astonished. Who would care to speak out in behalf of him?

Hermione Weasley was the first to give her testimony. Concisely and precisely she stated that since she had met him again this summer, Draco Malfoy had acted in an exemplary fashion as could be expected of every wizard. Although Draco Malfoy had violated the law, circumstances should be taken into consideration. A man who had saved the life of a highly decorated member of the Ministry had to be cleared of all charges.

Guarded by Aurors, Fred and George Weasley gave their evidence next. They testified to the plot they had taken part in, thus giving proof to Harry’s presentation of the case, and stated that they testified gladly and voluntarily, even though they were incriminating themselves.

Gwenhwfar and Lance Aberforthy both confirmed that ever since Draco Malfoy was living next door at Harry Potter’s cottage, he never had used magic nor had he behaved in any way criminal. They both had got to know Draco Malfoy as a balanced young man, eager to learn how to handle daily routines Muggle-like. Gwenny Aberforthy testified that Draco Malfoy handed her over various wands voluntarily as soon as he had “brought Harry home”.

Ronald Weasley gave account of Draco Malfoy’s important part in the conviction of Blaise Zabini. Draco’s jaw dropped when Ron further stated that he was convinced of Mr Malfoy’s integrity, and, since he had saved Harry Potter’s life disregarding his own welfare, Ron would, if asked, entrust his babies to Mr Malfoy’s care and custody.

“The defence now rests,” Harry concluded simply after Ron had left.

The Chief Warlock looked thoughtfully down at Harry for a while, then turned her focus on Draco. “Does the accused want to add something?”

Still dazed by Ron’s unexpected testimony, Draco jumped. He hadn’t expected to be addressed right now. “I--err--no.” Following sudden inspiration, he added, “All I can do now is await your just verdict.”

It was sheer torture watching the members of the Wizengamot sticking their heads together, whispering agitatedly. They were discussing his fate, deciding his future life. But, strangely, Draco was beyond being frantic now. His nervousness had turned into detached, cold numbness. There was no need to be excited about anything anymore. It was over anyhow.

There was nothing else anyone could do or say.

Sooner than Draco had expected, the Chief Warlock cleared her throat. Immediately Draco found it hard to swallow. The collar of his shirt seemed to be too tight again.

The Wizengamot had made their decision.

“Draco Malfoy, being a wizard by birth, you are well aware of the seriousness of the charges against you. Violating the law knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of the actions is a severe crime. For an offence like that, I usually recommend imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than twenty years.”

Draco’s heart stopped beating. Twenty years. Twenty years! He’d be past his ‘best years’ when he got his freedom back. Twenty years. In Azkaban. He swayed slightly.

In twenty years, Harry would undoubtedly forget all about him, and would have happily founded a family with at least a dozen kids. Twenty years. But the number of years didn’t matter anyhow, did they? He’d be easy prey for the Dementors. In just one year the Dementors would see to it that no happy thought was left in him. In just one month the Dementors would have devoured his fragile inner life. Twenty years. His hand shot up to his collar, tugging at it. He needed air, badly.

But he would try to endure it; he simply had to, no matter what it would cost him. He wanted to live. He wanted to live so badly that it hurt. And there was still a chance to survive. There was still the hide-out to escape to where nobody could find him, even if it meant feeling nothing at all again. But he would try, oh Merlin, he would try and--

“However, taking account of the circumstances, the Council of Magical Law tends to judge differently. The various testimonies presented to the Wizengamot today were taken into consideration, too. Furthermore the case laid out by the defence convinced the Council in favour of the accused. Naturally, the identity of the wizard representing the accused doesn’t play an unimportant role in our final decision.”

Draco gulped. So… what?

“Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?” the head of the Wizengamot asked. Her hand shot up into the air as the first. Many others followed. It happened so fast, Draco didn’t have a chance to count.

“And those in favour of conviction?”

Draco shouldn’t have worried about counting. Just two or three hands were raised.

“Cleared of all charges.”

Draco spun around, happy, delirious, free.

His arms outstretched, ready to pull Harry into his arms, kiss his face, squeeze him tight, lift him up and whirl him around was stopped instantly by the grim and resolute look on Harry’s face.

Immediately, Draco’s arms sunk lifelessly down to his sides. What the heck was wrong? They had won, hadn’t they? He was free, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?

Something cold and vicious grabbed for his heart, and suddenly it was hard to breathe again.

Harry was staring at him intently.

“Forgive me, Draco,” Harry was talking fast; his voice was hushed. “Here’s a chance I can’t let go by. It’s risky, but I’ve simply got to try. I know you hate it when I act without having asked your opinion first. But there’s no time; it’s now or never. Please, Draco, I beg you to trust me, just one more time. Will you?”

What the hell was Harry up to? Without doubt he had something Gryffindorish in mind, something daring without being thought out before.

“Please?”

There was no way to refuse Harry anything, not if he pleaded like that. Against better knowledge, Draco nodded faintly.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry beamed up at him, then added hurriedly, “Whatever I will say or do now, please try to keep your face blank; please don’t react in any way. If you show surprise, we’re licked. Okay?”

Nothing was okay, nothing at all. His frantic heart beating somewhere in his throat, Draco nodded again and forced a pleasant expression on his face. Involuntarily clenching his hands into fists to vent his tension, he watched Harry facing the Minister, clearing his throat loudly to catch her attention.

Draco was astounded how casual Harry sounded when he addressed the Wizengamot once more.

“If you please, just one last word, Minister.” Harry’s smile was irresistible, and without hesitation, the Chief Warlock returned the smile benevolently. “I know it’s highly irregular and to my knowledge never has been carried out before, but I would like to make a request.”

Patil raised her brows in surprise, then nodded her consent. Without doubt Harry’s unusual appeal had aroused her curiosity. Inquisitive silence fell; all eyes were fixed on Harry, waiting for him to proceed.

“As the Council of Magical Law knows, Mr Malfoy has applied for a hearing on 30th of September regarding his status in the wizarding world. It’s on record that the Council acknowledged and accepted my offer to act as guarantor to re-establish Mr Malfoy’s status of a wizard.”

What the hell was Harry up to?

“After today’s events, I think it’s obvious that the hearing will be unnecessary.”

Had Harry gone mad?

“Mr Malfoy’s acquittal proves his integrity, and the testimonies of the witnesses speak for themselves. I suggest that his status as a wizard should be re-established without delay.”

It took all of Draco’s self-control not to shout and keep his face blank. He had promised Harry not to react regardless what he might say or do, and he was grimly determined to keep his promise.

The members of the Wizengamot, however, didn’t care about self-control. Draco could see all kinds of different expressions on their faces. Some were simply shocked by Harry’s boldness, and Draco couldn’t blame them for their mouths gaping wide open. But others were frowning, some were muttering angrily, and some of them were even making rude gestures with their fingers.

“Silence!“ Sitara Patil’s face was stern, and the murmur died down at once. The sudden silence hurt in Draco’s ears.

Leaning forward, eyeing Harry closely, Patil commanded sharply, “Explain.” Judging by her tone, Harry was walking on very thin ice. It seemed that even the boldness of a Mr Potter had its limits.

Apparently unaware of the hostile atmosphere, Harry started to chat away amiably. “With all due respect to the Council of Magical Law, I want to beg your pardon for the highly irregular request. But the extraordinary occurrence of recent events encourages me to disregard formal ways and take an unusual course.”

Patil tapped her index finger impatiently on the wooden surface of the bench she was seated on. “Well?”

“Hopefully the Council of Magical Law will forgive me voicing my opinion that bluntly, but frankly I think Mr Malfoy’s acquittal should be reason enough to consider his re-establishment as a wizard favourably.” Again one of Harry’s irresistible smiles flashed over his face, and Draco was amazed that Sitara Patil couldn’t help being affected by it. It wasn’t only her face that softened slightly; several other female members of the Wizengamot started to shift in their seats, leaning forward.

“But it’s not only Mr Malfoy’s now proven integrity I’m talking about. I’m sorry that there hasn’t been a chance to inform the Wizengamot earlier about recent events.” Harry beamed up at the audience, and Draco could see the faces of several wizards smiling back at him.

“I’m happy to inform you that Mr Malfoy showed a way to solve the problem regarding the bond.”

A wave of murmur flared up, but was hushed by an authoritarian gesture of Patil’s hand.

Draco wished he was anywhere else than standing in the middle of the courtroom with all eyes gaping at him. To hell with Harry. Draco hadn’t solved anything at all. What the heck was Harry up to? Draco’s face started to hurt with the effort to keep his expression pleasant.

Harry went on, and the enthusiasm in his voice was infectious.

“Actually, the solution is quite easy. It’s just incredible! Just imagine! Until now nobody has thought about the fact that with each bond, with each contract, a simple sales transaction is carried out. A certain prize is being offered and paid for the right of ownership; no more, no less. Thanks to Mr Malfoy, we now know that the subject of the contract can pull through the bargain as well, with the assent of the Owner provided. Shortly before today’s trial, Mr Malfoy checked the theory. It was risky; it was dangerous. We know that severe pain, if not a horrible death, awaits the poor soul who attempts to break the bond.”

Harry suddenly stopped in mid-flow. Like everybody else in Courtroom Ten, Draco held his breath, eager for Harry to continue.

“It worked, my dear ladies and gentlemen. It worked out successfully. I’m proud to announce that Mr Malfoy has offered me a prize for the contract, and that I have accepted his offer. From now on he is the right and sole owner of his soul. He can act of his own will without harm or danger.”

Draco couldn’t help but admire Harry. He was presenting the case cunningly without an outright lie. He just left out one or two vital facts; about who originally had the idea of the bargain between Owner and Property, for example. Harry would have made a brilliant Slytherin at Hogwarts…

“From now on, Mr Malfoy is free!” Harry shook his clenched fist over his head jubilantly. “And what’s more, now we know a way to give freedom back to all the poor, wrenched lads still cooped up in the hotel with their Owners, imprisoned by the bond. They will be free, too, thanks to Draco Malfoy.”

Harry turned towards Draco, and slowly, but energetically, he started to clap his hands. It didn’t take long, and the whole Wizengamot joined his applause, whistling and cheering at the top of their lungs. There was no way to not be infected by Harry’s enthusiasm.

It took a while for the Chief Warlock to restore silence again. But before she could speak up, Harry raised his voice once more.

“That’s why I’m certain Mr Malfoy deserves a reward. He rendered outstanding services to our world, just like only a true wizard can do. Don’t you think so, too?” Hell broke lose. The applause was ear deafening, trampling feet were adding to the noise, and affirmative shouts, accompanied by more whistles, topped the racket.

This time, it took longer for Sitara Patil to quiet the audience. And this time, she made sure that Harry wouldn’t speak first. Draco had difficulties listening to her low, matter-of-fact voice after the euphoria Harry had aroused.

“Like you said, Mr Harry James Potter, the course you have adopted today is highly irregular.” She raised an eyebrow, causing Draco’s stomach to turn over. Merlin, she had seen right through Harry; he had put the stakes too high. They had lost.

“Formalism is important. Without certain rules and regulations, a community cannot be effective.”

They had lost indeed. It had been too good to be true.

“However, a community should be of use to its members; their rules and regulations should serve the people, and not the other way around.” The expression on her face didn’t alter. It was as immobile as if carved of wood.

“If a rule or regulation turns out to prevent helping people under certain circumstances, there always should be an amount of scope to react. In my opinion, and I’m sure everybody will agree, in this case we will find a way to satisfy formal requirements later.”

Affirmative nods gestured in her direction. Slowly, Patil nodded, then added, “Well, that’s the reason why I was elected Minister, right? To make the impossible possible?”

To Draco’s surprise, Patil started to smile.

“Those in favour of re-establishing Draco Malfoy as a wizard?” she asked. This time there was no doubt about it. All hands shot upwards.

“Those in favour of refusing the apply?”

Not a hand was raised.

“Draco Malfoy, as Minister of Magic, I’m happy to welcome you back as a wizard in our community. Within effect of today, you are entitled to use a wand, and, as well, you are entitled to perform magic. As the rightful heir of the Malfoy clan, you are further entitled to claim the estate of your family.”

Mayhem broke lose.

Everybody was cheering and shouting at once, elicited to thunderous applause. Witches and wizards hastened to climb down the benches, running towards Draco to congratulate him, shake his hand, or clap him on the back. He was squeezed and hugged, pinched, punched, and even kissed. Soon Draco was giggling hysterically, drunken with joy, thrilled by the unfamiliar attention, not able to comprehend that he was free, really free, and a wizard again.

When later, much later, commotion subsided, he searched for the person he needed to hug the most. At last he made out the unique black shock of hair in what seemed to be a mass of red. Occupied in what seemed to be a serious conversation, Harry was surrounded by the Weasley gang.

Not wanting to disturb, Draco continued to shake hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They were alone.

Having finally escaped the courtroom and the crowd, they came to a halt in the corridor leading to the Atrium. The exit of the Ministry was near, thanks to Merlin.

“Congratulations, Draco!” Harry smiled cheerfully, though his features were peculiarly strained. No wonder, it had been a stressful day. “Your dreams have come true. You are a free wizard. - Are you happy now?“ He added lowly.

“Oh, yes,” Draco replied enthusiastically, still intoxicated by recent events and the unfamiliar attention. “I just wondered-- With the rightful claim at the estate, do you think I will get Malfoy Manor back?” It would be such a thrill to walk through the gates of Malfoy Manor as the owner!”

“I don’t know… Want me to investigate?” Harry’s voice was hoarse, as if he had caught a cold. “I presume you want to live there?”

Live there? Draco hadn’t thought about it yet. Now how would it be living in the family house again?

“Well, you can do whatever you want to do now,” Harry said quietly. “I’m sure you will choose the right thing.”

“Thank you,” Draco repeated mechanically, still trying to imagine himself living at the Manor as the owner of the estate. It was a tempting picture; he had fantasized about it for so many years.

“Well, then…” Draco heard Harry mumble, “I had hoped that maybe you would--but--“ Harry cleared his throat.

Dreamily, Draco looked ahead, not seeing anything, not listening. His mind was racing. He still couldn’t believe it. He was free, he was a wizard, and he was wealthy. He could walk wherever he wanted to, talk to whomever he wanted to, make love to whomever he wanted to. He was no longer dependent on the mood of somebody else, no longer dependent on somebody else’s generosity, no longer dependent on somebody else’s goodwill. He could do whatever he wanted to.

“Goodbye, then, Draco. I wish you all the best. I hope you’ll be happy at the Manor. Whenever you feel like it, feel free to visit. You know where to find me.”

Draco only registered what Harry had actually said when he watched his retreating back disappear through the door leading to the Atrium.

Good-bye? Feel free to visit? You know where to find me?

WHAT???

Draco’s mind reacted slowly in shock.

Harry?

The corridor was deserted. There was no one left except himself.

That was when Draco started running. He ran faster than he had ever run before in his life.