𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 1

Title: Aftermath
Author: cello-of-doom
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco. All other canon relationships intact.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 87,500
Summary: Post-war. Harry returns to Hogwarts to finish his education but there have been a few changes – the most important of which is a Slytherin in the Gryffindor dorms and a teacher who is acting suspiciously.

The quiet murmur of voices, the occasional sob of grief. Whispers and open stares, the muted light of candles, the smell of dust and death in the air.

This was the aftermath, the culmination of seven years. All was finished and they could rebuild the school, rebuild the Ministry, rebuild their world, until, maybe another would rise – then the struggle would begin again.

Harry hoped that would be far away in the future – if at all. He had played his part, fought the foe, done the deed. His time was finished and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Leaving Hermione and Ron wrapped in each others’ arms, Harry walked away from Dumbledore’s office under his cloak. He was still unwilling to be seen by his friends, his adopted family and by everyone who still gathered in the great hall. He would remain under this cloak forever if it meant he would get the peace he felt he now deserved.

Glancing down into the entrance hall as he made his way to his dorm, Harry saw five dark-clad aurors gathered by the broken door. One held Lucius Malfoy by the arm, his wand pointed at the Death Eater’s throat. Another held Narcissa Malfoy in the same way. As Harry watched, Draco ran up to them, grabbing his mothers’ hand, pulling her desperately away, to no avail.

“No. You can’t take them. Please don’t take them!”

“Get away from us, boy!” The auror holding Lucius snarled. “They’re Death Eaters and are under arrest. You want to go to Azkaban too? I can arrange it.”

“Please... please don’t take them.” Draco started to sob helplessly. Harry bit his lip. He had heard the same defeat in Malfoy’s voice before, usually before something catastrophic happened. With dread thumping in his chest Harry pulled off the cloak and almost slid down the stairs to run to the small group.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Why are you taking them? They’re not doing anything.”

The aurors blinked at him, recognising him, and obviously wondering why Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, was defending known Death Eaters.

“These two are under arrest. We’re taking them to Azkaban to await trial,” the first Auror stated.

“They helped!” Draco sobbed. “They didn’t kill anyone. They were looking for me.”

“Draco,” Narcissa pleaded. “Please don’t cry. As long as you’re all right...”

“Stop crying, Draco,” Lucius added. “A Malfoy doesn’t bawl like a baby. Have some dignity.”

Shocked, Draco hitched his breath, straightening up immediately. He dashed his tears away from his filthy, soot-streaked face. Harry could see him shaking. “I.... I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered.

Something about  his ragged pride and his attempt to master his emotions in front of his haughty father, touched Harry. He reached out intending to put a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco jumped about a mile, staring at him in perplexity, before moving away from Harry’s touch with a sneer. Harry nodded and turned back to the leader of the aurors.

“Treat her gently?” he asked. “And I’ll be giving evidence at her trial. It’s true that Mrs Malfoy helped me. If it wasn’t for her, everyone here would be either dead or under Voldemort’s feet.”

The auror looked surprised, but nodded. With a word, he ordered his group out of the castle, to apparate beyond the boundaries.

Harry was left with Malfoy. The Slytherin said nothing nor did he look at Harry. He only stared at his feet, still holding on to the shreds of dignity that had been his father’s last reprimand.

Harry didn’t expect thanks from his arch-enemy, so he turned away to resume his interrupted journey to bed.

“Potter...” came a small voice from behind him. He stopped and turned. Malfoy was still staring at his own feet.

“What?”

“Will you really? Give evidence, I mean?”

“For your mum,” Harry replied.

Malfoy glanced up at him. “What about my father?”

“Don’t push your luck, Malfoy!” Harry shook his head. “He almost got to deliver me to Voldemort, remember – in your house?” Something suddenly struck Harry and he turned back to look at Malfoy properly. “Come to think of it... you seemed pretty reluctant to turn me over. You could have killed me about ten times tonight, but you didn’t. What’s with that?”

Malfoy looked up, right into Harry’s eyes. His eyes were grey, dark like a gathering storm, full of imprisoned tears and hopelessness. He said nothing, but turned on his heel and walked towards the Slytherin dorms, leaving Harry staring after him.