mahoganyhandle (mahoganyhandle) wrote in santas_lap, @ 2007-12-20 23:02:00 |
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Despite—or, perhaps, because of—the meeting with the press, the attention Albus and Draco received in the wizarding world redoubled. As if it wasn't bad enough being pasted over the newspapers all the time, then there came a campaign to really tear Albus and Draco apart, spearheaded by none other than Arthur Weasley.
Draco had cried to his parents when Albus finally sat him down and told him what really was going on, and his father had soothed him and sworn revenge on Arthur Weasley for making him so upset. There were a lot of people who disliked pederasty, mostly Muggleborns, but some purebloods, too. They had petitioned to have a trial, in the interest of Draco's wellbeing, and the Wizengamot had decided to hear the case. Now, not only could Albus be taken away from him, but also his parents, for child endangerment, one of the worst crimes in the wizarding vocabulary, as every child born into the wizarding world was considered especially precious.
He'd thrown himself into Albus's arms and said, "Can't you just tell them, Albus? Tell them that it's okay. Please?"
Albus had sounded like he might cry as well when he said, "Would that I could, Draco, but I'm sorry. It just doesn't work that way. We're all going to have to go before the Wizengamot and speak honestly. Even you may have to speak, although I hope it doesn't come to that."
So that had been that. Draco's parents had decided with Albus that even though the summer was coming to a close, and he was due home in another week, that he should stay with Albus, at least until after the trial had ended. It was meant as a show of solidarity and, Albus said, conviction in the path they'd taken. If Draco went home as had been previously scheduled, some people might take it as their backing off, or admittance to doing something wrong.
That was the one thing that Draco didn't mind about the whole situation—he'd get to stay on at Hogwarts longer, with Albus. Even when the school session was in. It would be interesting. He'd get to meet a lot more people, and, maybe, it would be like he was going to school for the first time, too. That couldn't be so bad at all…
After the first conversation, Albus didn't tell him much about the trial, either. If Draco asked—and only if Draco asked—he would say that things were going well. Especially now that Preston Wellington had published a recent empirical study of pederasty and child development where the results came out in favor of the practice. That had been all thanks to Professor Snape, Draco remembered, who'd persuaded Mr. Wellington to tell his side of the story in the first place, despite the fact that he'd feared a backlash from the Muggleborn community, and Draco made an effort to be extra nice to Snape in the weeks following.
Draco followed Professor Snape about in his labs and asked him a lot of questions about the potions he was brewing or testing for students. Draco sat with Professor Snape in the storage closet whenever he needed to do inventory and told him stories so he wouldn't get bored by looking in jars and boxes and counting things up. And, even when he got distracted and miscounted because of Draco's "inane prattle" and had to start all over again, he didn't put up much of a fuss or try to kick Draco out of the room. He was suspicious, though, and Draco had never seen his eyes so bright as when he caught Draco hiding in a cabinet at the back of the room during one of his classes. Finally, he pushed Draco to admit that potions were rather interesting, and he even seemed to bite back the few harsh words that had been on the tip of his tongue. He could respect anybody who respected potions, he said one night while Draco kept him company. He was grading essays, but he allowed Draco to throw ingredients into a bubbling cauldron and see what sorts of reactions came of that.
When Draco came up with noxious mixtures that melted cauldrons, scorched the walls, or filled the room up with disgusting fumes, Professor Snape would sit with him and dissect the potion and tell him everything he did wrong, and Draco would listen attentively, awed. When Draco somehow got something right and came up with a real potion—and real potions did a bunch of amazing things, from healing wounds to cleaning stuck-on spots to making people do exactly what you wanted them to do—Snape still would sit with him and dissect it. Only, those times, he would tell Draco exactly what he did right and take him through it step-by-step, and then tell him to brew it again. Draco had an excellent memory, so he never forgot how a potion went, and it seemed that Snape even allowed himself to be impressed by that.
It was a nice way to spend the evenings several days out of the week, and freed up some time for Albus to conduct whatever business he needed done in private. After all, Draco no longer could have his friends or parents over whenever he needed to be distracted. In fact, his parents no longer came to visit for dinner every Thursday evening. They couldn't, now school was in session Instead, Draco took the Floo home—escorted, of course, lest he step out on the wrong hearth by accident—to have dinner with his parents once a week, so as to keep him from getting homesick. It had been so long since he'd walked those halls that Draco hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until he'd gotten back.
Except, when he was home, he missed Albus even more, despite the fact that he was only gone for a few hours. His parents had tried keeping him overnight for a few weeks and returning him by dinnertime on Friday, but they'd all found that he couldn't sleep very well without Albus there, and often would wake his parents up in the middle of the night, asking to go back.
The first time he'd done it, he'd been afraid that his parents would be upset. He didn't want them to think that he didn't want to live with them anymore, or, even worse, that he didn't like them anymore. That wasn't it at all. But his bed felt so large and empty without Albus in it, and it didn't smell right at all, without the scent of Albus's pomade, or feel right, without the textured pillow of Albus's coarse beard and soft, wrinkling body. In addition, he kept thinking of Albus, and it made him toss and turn as he tried to get to sleep. The magic of their link wasn't dimmed by distance, but, it seemed, grew stronger instead, as if to compensate for the desired missing presence. He only wanted to return to what was familiar and easy and wake up feeling secure in knowing exactly where he was .
However, his request didn't hurt his parents feelings at all. They glanced at each other in silence for a moment, and then they both smiled and pulled him into the bed with them. They asked him about the magic between Albus and him, and were happy to hear that it wasn't quite settled yet where he could be complacent being away from Albus for too long. They said that meant the bond between the two of them was particularly strong, even at this early date, and that they truly were fated by magic to fit together, like two halves of a greater whole.
It had delighted Draco to hear, and he told Albus what his parents said as soon as he returned, still in his dressing gown; he hadn't bothered getting dressed in robes because he was only going back to bed, anyway. Albus had smiled a sweet half-smile that Draco had never seen before and said, "Yes. I have known we were fated for each other for a long time, Draco." The words sent a thrill through him, and he could barely get his voice to work to ask how long Albus had known that. When Albus said, "Since the first time I kissed you, of course. You knew it, too, in here," he touched Draco's chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. "I could tell, we all could tell, by the way you reacted when our magic touched."
"I was scared," Draco whispered.
Albus didn't seem upset by his confession, but rather understanding and compassionate, and Draco felt relieved. It felt good to tell somebody—but no, not just anybody; it felt good to tell Albus about the fear and confusion he'd felt the first time they'd kissed. Saying so made it seem less like a shadow flitting at the back of his thoughts and more like the surreal start of a very happy ending.
"I was a little scared, too," Albus said after a moment.
"I'd never felt that way before. I didn't know what it was. My mum and dad never told me anything… It was just a party, and I had so much fun! And then everybody wanted to kiss me. Some of them felt…"
"Nice?" said Albus. "It means that you might have been compatible with them, that's all. Everybody is compatible with lots of other people."
"What's compatible?"
"It means that they get on well, like you and me."
"Oh," Draco said. He thought back to the night of his party and the long line of men who'd given him flowers and kisses. "I'm glad you were there."
"I'm glad, too," Albus whispered, caressing his hair.
It felt nice, having Albus's hands sifting through, massaging his scalp, and Draco sighed and leaned into the touch. His head rested on Albus's chest as they lay abed. The flannel under his cheek was warm and soft and smelled somewhat like lemon. Draco brushed his hand up and down it, watching the shade of blue change, now a little darker on the down-stroke, now a little lighter on the up-stroke. It was only when Albus turned into the touch that Draco realized what he was doing.
"For months I was afraid because… it is not always acceptable, to love a boy. And, where acceptable, it is not always easy. In pederasty, to love a boy ultimately means to let him go, and I knew from our first kiss that it would be impossible for me to let you go, Draco. Always, I will think of you first, love you first, choose you first. Whatever the cost, to myself or anyone else, you are my top priority; you are the one most precious thing in this world… That is a scary feeling to have, especially when you know your love cannot last."
"What do you mean? I thought we were going to be friends forever. You even said… no matter what, Albus, remember?"
"I remember," Albus said. "I am not saying what will happen to us, Draco. I am only saying what I thought would happen to us. Your father hadn't told me anything prior to inviting me to your birthday party. He… wanted it to be a surprise for the both of us."
"What is the surprise?"
"Each other, my darling. Do you know what a wizarding partnership is?" Draco shook his head. "Well, I'm going to tell you the difference between pederasty and a wizarding partnership. I don't want you to worry anymore about what will happen in the trial. I want you to think only about the promise I made with your father and mother, the promise I am renewing with you tonight."
"Why are you doing this? I thought you said… it was all right. Isn't it all right anymore? They're not going to make you go away."
"No, that's not it," Albus said solemnly. "They want to call you to court, Draco. I tried so hard to prevent it, but they are most eager to hear what you have to say about all of this. That means you will have to talk to a children's mental health specialist, and then, after that, you'll have to go to trial."
"What should I say?"
"I want you to say only what you believe in your heart is true. I don't want you to say any more or any less than that. That is what the court needs to hear before they make their decision, and that is what you will give them, understand?"
Draco nodded solemnly and whispered, "I promise."
"Good boy, Draco. It's a brave thing you're going to do, and I'm very proud of you. The most important thing for you to do is tell the truth, and you will, no matter that that truth is, just as you promised. I think, already, you are blossoming into a beautiful person, and I am most honored to witness this transformation in you."
"Oh," Draco said quietly. He chewed on his lower lip and smiled hesitantly. "I want you to be proud of me."
"I am—I will be, ever more, as you grow older."
Albus kissed him. It was the sweetest, most magical kiss he'd ever had. It sent what felt like liquid pleasure dribbling hotly down his spine. He moaned and curled into Albus's embrace, and clutched at him with the hand that had been rubbing at the cotton of Albus's pajamas. When Albus withdrew from the kiss, they were both breathless and clingy and aching from a hollow point in their magic that wanted to be filled up with the other's.
"Pederasty means to love a boy until he is a man and let him go, but what we have is not merely pederasty," Albus said, holding Draco tight against him.
Draco felt Albus's cock, so large and hot and hard against him, pressing into his stomach, and he squirmed because he felt a sudden matching desire flare to life within him and command his attention. But he struggled, nonetheless, to ignore it, because Albus was speaking, between peppering his mouth with kisses that left him lightheaded and filled with awe. Between them, there was a wellspring of magic and love, bubbling up and brimming, and it felt like it would overflow any second. Only it never overflowed, because, somehow that he could not understand, and might never understand, there was always room for more between them.
"What we have is a wizarding partnership, and in those, you avow yourself to your partner, to love and cherish and protect evermore, to complete always, to return and rejoin and reawaken forever. And, when life is done, to never be parted…"
Albus kissed him again. It was a languorous kiss that whispered to Draco's heart of adoration for the perfection they were together. Draco wanted it to never end. Or, when it did, he wanted it to always start again.
"When you are seventeen," Albus whispered against his lips, "I will marry you."
Draco gasped in delight and looked up to see Albus's face. His eyes were solemn in his vow, and Draco smiled.
"Like my mum and dad," he said.
"Yes, like that."
Albus laughed happily when Draco embraced him, hugging him tight, his small arms struggling to wrap around his broad shoulders fully. Despite his age, Albus was neither frail nor weak, but robust and healthy and strong, and Draco simply loved the feel of him. And he would love it ever more, he knew, as he grew older and fit against him more perfectly.
"I love you, Albus, so much," Draco whispered, pressing light, butterfly kisses all over his face.
"I love you, too, my darling, more than you could know."
Albus gave him another languorous and worshipful kiss, one that lingered all through their caresses and lovemaking, one they kept coming back to, even as they cuddled closer together and drifted to sleep. In the morning, they woke with the sunrise, and another, and lazily began to stir.
Unfortunately, they could not lie abed all day, but had to get up and going. Today was the day that Draco had to speak with the children's mental health specialist. Draco sat in session with him all morning. Yet, Draco was wary of talking to him, so the Healer, whose name was Damien Zachs, enticed him to play instead. Damien had a very nice playroom, filled up with figurines and coloring utensils, building blocks and broomsticks. Draco and he played with the model of Hogwarts for hours, and Damien never pushed him to talk about anything he didn't want to talk about. And Draco steadfastly refused to talk about Albus. Not because of some trauma, but because of the fear of trauma.
At noontime, Damien ordered lunch for them, and his secretary came into the playroom and deposited a large tray of food at a little table with little chairs. Damien even sat at the table with him, despite being much too big for it and having his knees cramped up. Draco giggled when Damien squished himself down onto one of the seats, and then again, once their yummy beef stew and buttery bread and chocolate custard was all gone, when Damien tried to get up and fell flat on his bum. He had the funniest look of surprise on his face, with wide eyes as big and clear as the windows on the Astronomy classroom at home, and his mouth hanging wide open so all his white teeth flashed in the light of the hearth.
"I'm all right, all right!" Damien said, heaving himself up. He lumbered like Hagrid, even though he wasn't half as big. He was quite long and lean, though, and he looked so gangly when he sat with Draco, his slender arms and legs bent, like taffy stretched too thin. "I meant to do it. I could tell you like a laugh." Then he winked, and Draco giggled again.
"You're silly!" he said.
"Well," said Damien, scrunching his face up in consideration, "I suppose. I do so love to have a laugh, don't you?" Draco nodded. "I wish life could be like that all the time, playing games and joking…" He crawled back over to the colorful numbered mat on the floor and sprawled out. He made a sweeping gesture to all the puzzles, board games, trains and dolls. "What do you want to play with next? Or, could we go back to Hogwarts? I like that game a lot."
"Okay," Draco said. He crawled over to the replica of the castle and lay down. He picked up a little figurine with a long white beard.
"Is that Albus?" Damien said. Draco shook his head.
"No, it's meant to be Merlin, see," he made the figurine wave its staff with the gnarly tip.
"Oh. You've a better eye than I've got, Draco. I'd never have seen the difference." Draco didn't say anything, but glanced back at the figure in his arms. This old man was lean and had brown eyes and Draco was fairly certain his hair had never been the bright red Draco saw in pictures of Albus when he was younger. And he wasn't quite big enough, either, and—"Is the castle very accurate?"
"Not really," Draco replied. "The Slytherin dorms aren't over by the basement at all, and the Hufflepuff ones look like little burrows, not puffskiens. It's very nice."
"What about the other dorms?"
"They seem all right. Except Ravenclaw has a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Tower isn't that high up. It's just a toy, anyway. It's not real."
"What about your room? Where's that?"
Draco glanced at him and frowned.
"You want me to say something bad about Albus, don't you? Well, I won't! You're so mean, just like all the other stupid Muggleborns! My father was right! They don't understand anything at all and neither do you!"
"Draco," said Damien softly. "I'm sorry if I made you think I wanted you to say something bad about Albus. I don't want that at all. I want you to be healthy and happy, and, above all, I want you to tell the truth about what you feel, free from fear or the pressures of someone else's hopes or desires. I want you to get what you want, and what is best for you. I want you to think of me as a friend, not as an enemy, and most certainly not as somebody who's trying to hurt you. So again, I'm very sorry for allowing you to think anything but that."
Damien sounded genuinely hurt and friendly, and Draco was so taken aback that he deflated and looked at him, contritely. His lower lip quivered in his pout, and he sucked it in as he considered what he should say or do next. Had he really misjudged Damien? It would be so easy to do, if everybody on the outside immediately looked like an enemy.
"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. His voice was thick and unsteady with tears and his eyes started to sting. He rubbed at his eyes. Damien's long, deft fingers curled under his chin to raise his head up.
"Are you going to be okay? Do you need a hanky? It's okay to let it out, you know? That's always the best policy… And it's not only for tears. Sometimes there is something intangible bothering you… a thought or feeling… It's best to get those in the open, too."
"I know that," Draco said. He sniffed again and blinked a few times. It kept the tears at bay.
"That's good… Draco, I hoped we could talk a little bit about Albus, about how he makes you feel. And keep in mind I only want to hear the truth. You know it's really bad to lie?" Draco nodded. "Well, right now, it's really, really bad to lie. It could get somebody it a lot of trouble."
"Albus said to tell the truth," Draco admitted quietly.
"He certainly was right about that." Damien smiled at him kindly. "Maybe we could start even more simply, like when we were playing. You can tell me interesting things about the castle, okay?"
"Okay."
They both scooted closer to the castle, and picked up their figurines again. Even after having agreed to talk a little bit, though, Draco still needed prodding. So Damien said, "Tell me what your favorite part of the castle is."
Draco hesitated, then said, "My room is the best."
"Where's that? Can you show me?"
Draco certainly didn't want to, because that would mean that Damien knew exactly where he slept, and that might possibly be bad for Albus. But he had promised to tell the truth, and he couldn't go back on his word, not now, when it might be even worse to tell a lie. How could he know the difference? All he knew was that Albus was counting on him to do the right thing, whatever that was, and that Damien had said lying would be twice as bad now as it usually was.
Reluctantly, Draco pointed to the statue of the gargoyle that hid a winding stairway. He said, "It's right here."
Damien smiled. "Why's that your favorite part of the castle?"
"Because it's mine." Damien looked like he hadn't expected that, and Draco said, defensively, "I'm not lying. It really is mine!"
"I know. Draco, I know you're telling the truth. And I think you're being really brave to do so. All of this mess with the trial is really scary for you, isn't it?"
"I don't want to lose Albus, Damien. Maybe you could tell them, and they'll leave us alone? It's not fair they can tell me who I can be friends with. Albus said I knew best about who my friends should be, and he was right. I want to be friends with Albus. And I will be, forever, no matter what anyone else has to say about it!"
Damien stared at him in even silence for a moment, as if he were trying to puzzle something out swiftly. Then he said, "Maybe you could tell them yourself." Draco furrowed his brow, and Damien smiled at him kindly. "The only reason you had to come here was to see if you could go into court to speak for yourself, Draco. That was the only decision I had to make, if, yes, you knew the difference between a truth and a lie, and between what is right and what is wrong, and also if, yes, your thoughts and feelings on the subject at hand are your own."
"Who else's would they be?" Draco said indignantly.
"Oh," Damien sighed, "sometimes it's so easy to do what somebody else wants you to do. Say, for instance, your parents. Did they ever talk to you about pederasty before your birthday party at le jardin?" Draco shook his head. "And when Albus came to take you away to Hogwarts, had you previously talked about that with them?" Again, Draco shook his head. "So how do you know that this is what you want, and not something that's been pushed upon you so hard that you assumed it as your own? That's what I mean. And it's not just you, or even children alone who have to contend with that sort of thing. Everybody has hopes and dreams for the people they love, and the people they love sometimes get caught in a web of uncertainty."
"But I really like Albus and want to be friends with him forever. We promised we would be."
"You want to be Albus's friend," Damien repeated. "What sort of things do you do together, as friends?"
"We talk, and play games, and he tells me a lot of fun stories! And he never sends me away because he's busy, and he never complains when I play with his books and pictures and memories. And one time I even took his wand, and he let me have it all day to try out spells with. I made flowers dance in the courtyard. They smelled so sweet, and looked so pretty that…"
"Was it anything like the Garden of Secrets?"
"Maybe so."
"And did he ever hold your hand?"
"He always holds my hand."
"And kiss you?"
Draco smiled. "He always kisses me, too. You mean on the mouth, with magic, don't you?"
"Albus kisses you with magic?" Draco nodded. Damien hummed quietly and scratched at his stubble. His eyes were far-off and focused somewhere over Draco's head. It was a moment before he looked Draco in the eyes again, and then he said, "How do you feel when Albus kisses you?"
"All right," Draco said, flushing.
"Just all right?"
Draco ducked his head, mumbling, "Better than all right."
"I need you to tell me how it makes you feel—"
"That's private!" Draco exclaimed. "My mum said so!"
"Well, that's true enough. But, I am a healer, Draco. You know that you can tell healers things that you wouldn't say to anybody else. Private things, embarrassing things, even confusing or hurtful things… I'm won't repeat them, Draco; I can't, because I made a promise that the things you say here will stay just between us. That's called a confidentiality agreement."
"Confidentiality," Draco repeated softly.
"Right, so you can confidently tell me without fear of repercussions however you feel, if you like something, or do not like something but have, until now, been too afraid to say."
"Well…" Draco still felt a little uneasy about revealing something his mum said was private and shouldn't be said to anyone, but he had to admit that she did say he could talk to Albus or a healer if he wanted to—and Albus had said to tell the truth, no matter what. So, he supposed, it was okay to answer Damien's questions? "It feels nice."
"But…?"
Draco gawked up at him. "But what? It always feels nice."
"But what if, for once, it doesn't feel nice?"
"Albus said never let him hurt me. He said to say if I don't like it, so I would say…"
"Would it be okay, were I to kiss you?"
"No."
"Why not? I think you're nice, so maybe I want to kiss you."
"Well, you can't. I wouldn't say you could. Besides, nobody can touch me that way. It's… bad."
"Why bad? I'm even younger than Albus! And we're good friends, aren't we?"
"You have no reason to think you should be allowed to kiss me. So that means you just want to take advantage, and that makes us not friends anymore."
"That's right, Draco. Did Albus tell you that?"
"And my mum. And my dad."
"I see."
"What do you see?"
"I see that you're a clever little boy, Draco, and you're very decisive and you have things you want to say that should be heard."
"You mean in the court?"
"Yes, I mean in the court. Would you be frightened to go in there?"
"Maybe, but I want to…When can I see Albus again, Damien? It's been all day!"
"I'm sorry. It won't be much longer now. I have a few more questions, and then you can go with Albus. He didn't want to leave you, you know. He's sitting right outside in the lobby."
"He is?"
"He wanted to be near, in case you needed him."
"Good. I always need him."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," Draco said quietly, flushing again.
"Nothing, huh? It seems like something to me… Maybe a little something?" Draco nodded. "I would like you to tell me. I can share your secret and never tell anyone what you said. I'm very good at keeping secrets like that, Draco, and I think you'll find it's actually nice to have a friend who knows these things about you."
"Well, maybe," Draco said. "I just meant, I don't ever remember needing Albus, or wanting him… not when I was younger. Sometimes I wonder, if he hadn't been at my party, would I even know what it felt like. It's like that, why I always need him."
"What what feels like? Why do you always need him?" Damien's voice sounded distant and confused, like he had seen something he hadn't expected to see, or had been afraid of seeing, or tried not to see. Draco looked up at him, and he could clearly see fear in his eyes. So Draco put a hand on his, and took away the figure of Rowena Ravenclaw he'd been playing with.
"It's okay, it's just like… bubbles!" Draco said. "Bubbles of things, like the protective bubble Albus put me in when all the reporters came around. There are lots of different kinds of bubbles—funny ones and pretty ones and strong ones…even some sad ones, but that's mostly from other people until Albus makes me feel better again. Albus is the one who makes all the bubbles that float around in my head, in my chest, even in my magic, when I try to feel it there." Once Draco had stopped speaking, he realized that he'd said things he'd never intended, and all because Damien had seemed so frightened. He began to worry a little, and then added, "But that's a secret for just us, isn't it?"
Damien startled and scooted closer, so that he and Draco were sitting up cross-legged and face-to-face. Draco had let go of Damien's hand as he moved, but he had grabbed Draco's hands again as soon as Draco started to pull away, and squeezed them, a little too tight.
"I think maybe that alone shouldn't be a secret between us."
"But you said… you said it was a promise!"
"I know—I know I made a promise, Draco, and I'm going to keep it, too. I'm not going to tell anyone about what you said unless you tell me it's all right. But if you trust me, as your friend, to do what's best for you when you can't, then maybe you'll try to trust me? I'll always do my best for you, Draco; I promise you that."
"I don't understand."
Damien took in a deep breath, which made his chest puff out, and said, "Well, I think the Wizengamot should know about… your bubbles. And I think it would be best if I hinted at it before you got a chance to tell them."
"Why?"
"So that they will realize the severity of the situation and do what's right for you, Draco, and not their own agendas. They all have them, they all have things they want so badly that they'd try to make a platform out of something that shouldn't be used that way. So I want them to come prepared to hear about your magic, all right?"
Draco certainly could understand wanting something hard enough that it meant going for it no matter what, or who, got in the way. It scared him a little, because he thought it meant people might try to keep them apart—there were so many mean people who wanted to keep them away from each other, and it wasn't fair! Draco knew who he wanted to be friends with, and so did Albus, and they should all just shut up because what they thought didn't matter. He and Albus were going to be friends forever. He would make sure of it.
"Okay, Damien," Draco said. "I trust you."
Damien smiled; it was a sad smile. A tremor of doubt went though Draco, and he nearly took back what he'd said. But he realized he couldn't. Damien had asked for his trust, and, maybe even if he was afraid now, once it was given, it shouldn't be taken back until Damien relinquished it.
Seeing Draco tremble, Damien put a hand on Draco's head and ruffled his hair, smiling reassuringly. "You did the right thing, Draco."
Draco certainly hoped so. At this point, he couldn't possibly see how.
~
It was fitting, Albus had said, that Draco would speak to the Wizengamot on Halloween, when their ancestors might walk to earth to hear their customs tried again. Draco wasn't really certain how it was fitting, just that Albus had said it was, and also had hinted that it was ironic. All morning, Draco tried to figure out what was funny about today, but he couldn't come up with anything; that was when he remembered the Primary Council's dinner, and how Albus had explained irony to him again. So, he supposed, there actually wasn't anything funny about today.
That was a grim thought, and it made him sick and nervous. Well, more nervous than before, at any rate. Albus had tried to calm him down by telling him about the bean feast that would take place later on tonight, all the sweets and cakes and tarts. It had made Draco's mouth water with the distraction, but only for a minute or so, until Professor Snape arrived in the Headmaster's office with them.
Snape always wore black, but today he seemed even darker, like a rain cloud. It didn't put Draco's mind at ease, and he nearly cried and kicked Albus in the shin when Albus said it was time to go if they wanted to make the hearing on time. Draco only managed to withhold his frustration because he knew that Albus wouldn't let him go if it seemed to be too much for him. He'd remembered what Damien had said about the importance of talking to the Wizengamot. It was also the right thing to do, and Albus was counting on him to do the right thing today. It was one of the biggest days of his life to date—if not the biggest. And scariest.
They went by Floo. The Ministry of Magic was grand. The atrium was a wide-open space done in gleaming dark marble. Little paper birds flitted overhead, and, were it a better day, Draco might have tried to jump up and catch them. Instead, he walked at Albus's side, hugging Albus's long flowing, pink-pinstriped robes.
Everybody they passed tried to get a good look at them. Press swarmed the place, buzzing around like bees, and, when they called out questions, Draco feared being stung; they hadn't seemed so nice, after all, and they clamored far too close. He was glad to get away from them when they took the lift to the tenth level and then the flight of stairs to reach the court. Unfortunately, that gladness came to an abrupt end. It was time for the trial.
Albus had to go inside right away, so he left Draco out in the corridor with Professor Snape. They sat on a bench across from the courtroom. No sound came out, so Draco supposed the room was warded against eavesdropping, which was sad, because he really would have liked to know what was being said. He kicked his legs out, counting the swings, trying to keep his thoughts on other things. He felt so alone.
Snape wouldn't talk to him. Professor Snape stared straight ahead, sitting stiffly with his hands on his knees. Whenever Draco glanced up at him, he'd make a sour face and his nose would twitch, as if something particularly smelly were under it. Draco never said anything to him, but kept counting until he exhausted all the numbers he knew and had to start over again.
Then, the door opened and a wizard in purple robes came through the doorway. He had a kindly face, and he smiled as he held out a hand to Draco. Before taking it, Draco glanced to Professor Snape to see if that was all right, and Snape made an impatient gesture and told him to go, but even though Snape's voice was clipped, his eyes seemed softer and encouraging. So maybe it wouldn't be too bad, if Snape wasn't angry or anxious? He couldn't really say.
He followed the wizard into the courtroom through the main entrance. There was a stadium full of witches and wizards in strange-looking robes and almost square hats, and whose expressions were most severe. They stared down their noses at the center of the room, where Albus and his parents sat on wooden chairs next to a platform. On the platform, there was a big cage with a chair inside; the chair had thick leather straps on it, and several scores of pikes that were jabbed through adjustable holes. Draco's heart sped up at the sight and he froze, clutching the kindly wizard's hand. He asked if he was meant to go in there, and the kindly wizard smiled again and nodded.
Draco almost turned and ran. He might have, too, had he not glanced at Albus, sitting so calmly next to the dais, his face turned up to the judge's bench, where those presiding Mugwumps glowered down at him. No, he couldn't run and leave Albus all alone with them, even if it meant he had to go into that cage and be poked with spears.
Swallowing the lump that rose up in his throat, Draco took a step forward, then another, and another. Before he knew it, he was upon the raised dais in the center of the room, and Albus smiled at him encouragingly. Draco managed only a weak smile before he turned back to grimace at the cage. It looked like they were going to hurt the truth out of him, though he wished they wouldn't…
Amelia Bones, who he'd first met at the Primary Council's dinner, was the one to swear him in and ask if he knew the difference between a truth and a lie, and whether it was good or bad to tell a lie. Draco answered, and that seemed to satisfy most everyone. Then Albus conjured a tall stool on the dais beside his own and lifted him up onto it. Draco was so glad he didn't have to go into the cage, he let out a sigh of relief, one so big that it hurt a little to feel his chest so empty, but then he breathed normally again.
Amelia—that's what she'd said he should call her—asked him a lot of questions and a man with a wrinkled face and leathery skin wrote down everything he said. The questions were a lot like the ones Damien had asked, and the answers came easier on the second time around. That's not to say that it was easy to reply, because it wasn't—it was embarrassing, with so many people looking on and listening attentively, and worrying, too, because this time he didn't even have the reassurance that everything he said would be private. The Wizengamot had made no such confidentiality promises as Damien had, and Draco greatly preferred talking to him, as he'd been so friendly and pleasant and there were a lot of toys to play with when he felt uncomfortable.
Once Amelia seemed to run out of questions, she thanked him and let him go. Draco glanced to his parents; his father looked very proud of him and smiled a stiff, but pleased smirk, and, as Draco passed, his mother swept him up into a hug. She kissed his cheek, and he clung to her, inhaling deeply of the flowery scent of her perfume. Then he had to go, even before he got a chance to say goodbye to Albus.
Professor Snape took him back to Hogwarts. They had a quick lunch in his office and then spent the rest of the afternoon in his laboratory, making potions. Professor Snape had said they could make any potion he wanted, to cheer him up, and Draco had asked to learn how to make a Scintillation Solution. He sat atop the desk as Snape brewed it for him, detailing the necessary steps, chemical reactions and properties of each ingredient. It took his mind off the trial for awhile, and it even managed to cheer him up, as Snape had hoped. Thick purple fumes wafted from the simmering cauldron, and, once the potion was cool, Snape had let him drink a dose and gave him the rest in a vial. It tasted like fresh pomegranates, sweet and tart, which was probably because pomegranate seeds were a main ingredient in it. For two hours afterward, everything he touched turned to glittering gold and caught the light in the most majestic of ways.
He'd made a golden quill for Snape to use when he marked his student's papers and turned McGonagall's tartan hat into solid gold right atop her head—though, that hadn't been very smart or kind of him, in retrospect, as it had nearly broken her neck, it was so heavy. Several of the portraits got new, golden frames. Mrs. Norris's bell was turned to gold, to smarten her up a bit, as she was an ugly, dowdy old thing, and had made golden buttons for several of Albus's robes. And out on the pitch, one of the Slytherins, Marcus Flint, asked him to turn the buckles on his boots to gold. It was so much fun, making everything sparkle and flash in the light! Even Professor Snape didn't complain as he trailed Draco all across Hogwarts' grounds on his mission to make the best of his Scintillation Solution.
When night began to fall, they headed up to the Great Hall for dinner. He was a little worried when he saw that Albus hadn't shown up yet, but Snape told him that Albus probably had to speak to the press, now that the trial had ended, and that he'd return later. Draco accepted that, albeit reluctantly, and tucked into his meal. Then the tables were cleared of food, and there was a great uproar among the students as dessert appeared in its stead. There were towering platters of ice cream in all the flavors a kid could hope for, gummy wands and sugar quills, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor beans, and marshmallow moors. Bricks of chocolate lined the table and rose up like yummy, dark walls, and bowls of lemon drops, cherry balls, and berry gob stones glinted in the torchlight. There were cakes, tortes, tarts, and treacle. And fudge…How Draco loved fudge of all kinds! He nearly ate himself sick! Even Professor Snape indulged—or, overindulged, rather—in the ropes of licorice; he had a plate of them and black-raspberry Bertie Bott's beans, like a burnt spaghetti and meatballs.
Then it was all over, and Professor Snape tried irritably to rein him in as he bounced down the halls to the Headmaster's quarters. He always remained just out of Snape's reach, skidding here and there and giggling, and Snape looked irate, zigzagging down the corridors after him.
They reached the Headmaster's quarters and went up. Snape said, "Oh, thank Merlin!" as he opened the door and saw Albus at the hearth, talking to Draco's father. Draco ran over to hug Albus and then greeted his father merrily with a hug and kiss, but then startled again when the door slammed after Snape.
"You did well today, my dragon," Lucius said, fondly folding his hands through Draco's hair. Draco beamed when he smiled, and then his father kissed him and said goodnight. He pulled away as the green fire extinguished with a hiss and red flames crackled up all around. He turned, and there was Albus, staring down at him with a queer, part-amused, part-awed expression on his face, head cocked to the left. Draco flushed under that stare, because it made him feel naked in a way that standing naked in front of Albus never had.
"Can we be friends forever?" he asked. His voice, his body, positively vibrated with tension and anxiety.
"We always were going to be friends forever," Albus said, sounding amused. "That was never in question."
"What was, then? I thought…" Draco frowned. "Nobody wanted to keep us apart?"
"Plenty of people wanted to keep us apart, Draco, and they still do. They cannot help that they do not understand us, will never understand us. We baffle them, and in their confusion, they grow angry, disgusted…There will always be people like that, my boy, but I will fight for you, and you will fight for me. Yes?"
"Yes," Draco affirmed. Yet, he still felt uncertain about the things that Albus was saying; perhaps, because he didn't know how the trial had gone, and if what he'd said then had mattered at all… "Albus," he said quietly, taking Albus's hand in a trembling grip, "Why are so many people confused that we're friends?"
"Because you are so little, but you have such big thoughts and emotions and… big people forget what it's like to be little."
"Oh."
"Do you understand now?"
"Not really," Draco said, shaking his head. "Maybe never?" Albus smiled, laughed a little. He squeezed Draco's hand. "What did they say, Albus, back at court?"
"Well, they said a lot. You surprised them—some of them, the dissenters, I mean—but there were plenty of others who were happy to hear what you had to say—people like your father, and me… So they talked about it, and voted on it, and they said that they no one was to interfere in our friendship because we share a sacrosanct bond by which you are mine and I am yours. So our magic deemed it, and so it shall always be."
"That's good!"
"Very good," Albus agreed, nodding solemnly. He glanced at the clock over the mantle and said, "Are you ready for bed? It has grown quite late."
"Not sleepy."
Albus looked like he might protest, but then he shook himself and squeezed Draco's hand again. "So then, what would you like to do until bedtime?"
"Maybe we could go for a walk?"
"I know the perfect place," Albus said, his eyes glinting.
~
Draco's chubby fingers wove tiny braids in Albus's long, gray beard. He frowned in concentration as he worked, and Albus sat very still so he didn't mess up. It was dark out, and there was very little light, beside the moon and the stars and the small lamp that Albus had conjured to hang from the center of the gazebo's dome.
The air was thick with magic and smelled of jasmine, like on the night they'd first met. When they'd arrived, Draco had wondered at the flowers, for everywhere else, the earth was hard and cold and frosty.
"But here, Draco," Albus had said, "summer never ends; it is the magic of youth, and all the flowers are really memories of people, of boys who've blossomed into men. Among pureblood wizarding families, there is an ancient tradition by which a boy harvests his manhood from the seeds planted for him the Garden of Secrets, and it is only in this Secret Garden that man may eternally remain in the flower of boyhood."
Draco laughed, not quite believing it. And he wouldn't believe it for many years to come, until he sat out here with Albus again, braiding Albus's beard and watching his own flower unfurl in the night. By then he would have learned the cruelties of life, and of war—and of self-doubt above all; but also of the joys and loves and wondrous beginnings that come of fighting 'til the end for what you hold most dear; and he would be content. In the moonlight, his white chrysanthemum would look most ephemeral, as all the hard truths that had made him the man he now was, and he would remember the Halloween night that had affirmed the path his life would take, and the night he first met his lover.
Leaning closer, he would press a languorous, worshipful kiss to Albus's lips, and Albus would draw Draco closer with his good arm, until Draco settled across his lap. Draco would nuzzle against Albus's neck, lightly kissing, and whisper in his ear, "Do you remember my prophecy for you?" and, laughing, Albus would say that he did recall, which was quite a feat, as he was really getting on in age now.
Then he'd add, "I also remember when you made it come true. You fought for me, and never let me go… And now we are together, best friends…"
"Lovers, too," Draco would add teasingly.
"That is what you meant so long ago, my boy, though you didn't know it."
"But I know now, Mentor, what we are, what I offered you so… keenly."
"Yes." Albus's smile would be gentle, and his kiss, ardent, affirming, adoring. It would steal Draco's breath away, and leave his heart aching with the majestic power and unyielding force of the magic and love between them, revealed and redoubled again and again with each kiss, glance, breath…
"For always, Albus; I promise you, okay?"
"Oh, Draco," Albus would murmur, petting Draco's long silky hair, "my darling, my… belovéd. For always. That is my prophecy for you. Now let us, together, see it out."