Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 4

*****

“How was your visit with Pansy?” Draco asked as Harry set out his Pensieve carefully, arranging ink and parchment just so.

“She misses you.” Harry replied, flushing slightly. “She wishes she could come see you herself.”

“What is she up to, these days?” he asked in a casual tone.

“Assistant to Madame Malkin.” Harry answered as he set down the vial he had recovered from her. “She’s doing her best, considering everything.”

“I bet she gets all the robes she wants.” Draco sighed as though the thought of new robes to him was as enticing as the thought of freedom. Of course, he’d likely not had new robes since long before his capture. “I take it that’s from her? Rather large, isn’t it?”

“We’ve got two deaths on this one.” Harry told him. “I haven’t had a chance to check it out myself, so I thought we’d both take a look together. I knew Pansy wouldn’t give a bunch of rubbish if it was for your sake.”

“Yes, she was always rather fond of me.” Draco sighed heavily as though he’d rather not delve into that subject anymore, so Harry decided to push onward.

“She also gave me the name of someone who saw one of the other deaths at the Three Broomsticks.” Draco knew from the discomfort in Harry’s tone whose death it was that they would be looking into after these two. But no reason to aggravate him excessively. “Blaise Zabini.”

“Good luck with that.” Draco snorted slightly. “I think the only thing he really respected was his mirror. I could never rely on him, and I heard the Dark Lord had the same trouble.”

“You’d be surprised how many people want to help you, Draco.” Harry replied, and they fell into an awkward silence. “Well then, no time like the present.”

He poured the vial into his Pensieve and they both entered the Three Broomsticks once more.

----------

“Ah, there you are.” Draco pointed across the scene, a wide grin on his face as soon as they entered the memory of the chaotic battle. “Very dashing, Potter.” And there was Harry’s past self, his hair a mess, as always, his robes swirling about him as he rushed around, aiding the wounded and those losing their duels. “I don’t remember you cutting so fine a figure in battle. No wonder you got to be in charge of your side.”

“Don’t start in on me. You’re still under your table, if you take a look.” Harry pointed to a nearby dark huddle with a bright blonde head. “But this is what we came for. See her?” and he led Draco’s attention to a wide-eyed blonde somehow holding her own against his Aunt Bellatrix, who again seemed to be having a hard time getting out of the pub.

“How long after the last one is this?” Draco asked, and Harry shrugged, looking around, not seeing Seamus lying where he had been, or Dean’s unconscious form either.

“Probably five or ten minutes. I remember this happened just after I arrived.” He was doing his best to look casual, but Draco could tell it was tearing him apart to relive this battle. But it was for his sake. Draco’s fingers slid through Harry’s, as much to receive comfort as to give it back. And just then, Luna’s wand flew out of her hand, but it wasn’t Bellatrix who struck the killing blow. Her husband Rodolphus came out of seemingly nowhere, and shot a bolt of green at the girl so suddenly Draco almost thought he had missed the entire thing. As she crumpled to the floor, he saw his aunt being hit by a large number of Stunners all at once, flip head over feet, and land with a sickening crunch in a heap some five feet from where she’d been standing.

“Who even…” Draco shook his head, there had to have been at least five or six spells at once there, but he’d only seen the one coming from Dean Thomas, back on his feet, and just behind where they were standing to observe. “Rotten luck for her.”

“I shot one of them.” Harry admitted, and it was clear that even after all she’d done, it pained him to have a part in her death, as it was obvious the fall had broken her neck. Certainly, it had been a result of all the Stunners, but at least they weren’t going about flinging Killing Curses left and right. Unlike Rodolphus, who’d just fired off another bolt of green, seemingly at random, that left Neville Longbottom, one of his wife’s many attackers, in a heap. “So did Neville, Hermione, Lupin, and I think I saw Ginny get one off. Hers were always pretty massive.”

“Don’t be upset. Honestly, the woman was my aunt and I knew she was evil.” Draco tried to offer. “I think her goal in life was to get as many people as possible to have a good reason to want her dead.”

“It’s not that.” Harry breathed heavily, as though something heavy was pressing against his chest. “Seeing them die like that, so quickly, like they weren’t even here to begin with…I know you didn’t know them at all, and you made Neville’s life miserable in school, but you should have seen him go from klutz to valued Order member. I don’t know, maybe it’s just seeing someone you’ve known so long die…or something…”

“Hey,” Draco squeezed his hand momentarily. “Let’s leave here.” And they were suddenly back in Azkaban, the air cold and musty, but somehow refreshing after the oppressive atmosphere of the battle. “You know, you don’t have to go in them with me. We could get someone not so…close to them.” His voice was soft, and it stung Harry deeply to know that he would be sleeping alone in a cell tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life, yet he was more worried that Harry might be uncomfortable revisiting events of the war.

“I don’t have to like it, but this is helping me as well, though I’m sure it doesn’t seem that way now.” Harry told him, letting go of his hand and moving to repack his belongings. “It helps to know what really happened to all of them.” He shuffled a few papers around before looking up, his eyes shining with tears he refused to shed. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you mean?” Draco was mystified.

“About your aunt.” Harry continued. “I hated her, I’ll admit that, for all the things she did, but I shouldn’t have…”

“No, trust me, she was at least as crazy as the Dark Lord, it’s better this way.” Draco answered immediately.

“Pansy was right about you.” Harry set his folder down scrubbing an anxious hand through his hair. “You’re a good man.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Draco advised, “She was always blinded to my nature by my staggering good looks.” Harry laughed at that, and it was so great to hear the sound that Draco began laughing as well, and it was a long time before they left off.

“I’d better go, wouldn’t want to keep Blaise waiting.” Harry shoved his Pensieve back in its case before Draco rose to shake his hand. “I almost forgot,” and before he could lose his nerve, he engulfed the emaciated prisoner in a fierce hug. “Pansy asked me to give you this.” And somehow, he even had the courage to kiss the corner of Draco’s mouth before fleeing the room.

----------

“Was the meeting agreeable?” a voice drifted from the study as Harry collapsed on the couch after returning home from his appointment with Blaise, the memory tucked in his robes.

“Which one?” Harry groaned, wishing he’d met Blaise at a restaurant. He was famished and in no mood to make dinner. “I had to pay Blaise for his memory. Ridiculous. Talk about no loyalty between school mates.”

“Just because they were in the same house did not make them blood brothers.” The voice replied, not even bothering to come into the same room as him, which was rather typical, but Harry had gotten used to the affectations of his house guest.

“But I can’t think of a single Gryffindor who wouldn’t help me this way if they had the opportunity.” Harry frowned. “Although maybe I overestimate my own popularity.”

“No, you don’t.” the voice chuckled slightly, a harsh sound. “But Draco Malfoy was no Gryffindor, and Slytherins are a different sort.”

“Well, I know they can be…”

“Conniving? Deceptive? Devastatingly ambitious?” the voice supplied various choices and Harry heard a weak laugh come from his own mouth.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Harry sighed. “I just hope I’m not forced to pay off everyone else I need help from. Blaise ¬did tell me that another of Draco’s housemates has the truth of what happened to Lavender Brown to offer.”

“Which one?”

“Theodore Nott.” Harry answered, standing up and stretching. He may as well make a start on dinner. His guest would sit in the study all night. Probably wouldn’t even sleep or eat ever if Harry didn’t almost forcibly suggest it. “I don’t remember him very well, other than that he was rather tall and skinny, and I don’t think I ever heard him string two words together. I don’t even recall him being a part of the Death Eaters, or being at that battle, but I suppose he was always good at passing by without drawing undue amounts of attention. I assume he’ll want a fat purse as well, seeing as I never remember him backing up Draco in school. Why should he start now, being Slytherin, as you put it?”

“To the contrary,” the voice sounded amused. “Theodore Nott may surprise you. I had him pegged as a carbon copy of his father, who was very silent and somber at his age as well, but the big difference was that Theodore never felt the need to be accepted by his peers. He did what he thought best suited him.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll probably have to pay him more than Zabini.” Harry groaned. “It’s not as if I’m poor, but it’s still irritating. You’d think Draco would have inspired a bit more loyalty in his peers.”

“Not everyone worshipped him the way Parkinson did, and despite you attempts to make it so, he was never anything like you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Harry answered, storming to the kitchen. “He’s more like me than he was ever like you.”

“You sting me.” But there was no follow up, and Harry busied himself making dinner for two.

*****

To be Continued…