Harry stared at Draco intensely, trying like hell to make his charge uncomfortable, and it was not a difficult feat to accomplish. Draco averted his eyes like he always did when Harry tried to read him.
“It’s time, Malfoy. They’re waiting for us.”
Draco leaned his head on the stone wall of the holding cell and mumbled, “Can’t they just toss me in Azkaban and get it over with? There is no way they’re going to let me go, so why should I even bother going in there?”
Harry crossed his arms and huffed. “First of all, you selfish git, you owe me for getting them to keep you here instead of at Azkaban.” He grabbed Draco’s shoulder and jerked him around to force eye contact. “Second of all, I’m here on my only day off to talk to them on your behalf, so don’t even think about slithering your way out of this, Malfoy.”
“Get your hands —” Draco jerked his arm from Harry’s grasp, “— off of me, Potter!” He rubbed the spot gingerly, knowing that a bruise was likely to form. “No one asked you to do that.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry fired back, “So, you’re willing to go to Azkaban because you despise me that much?” He rolled his eyes. “You always were an idiot.”
This seemed to annoy Draco even more than Harry touching him. He slammed the other boy against the wall with his arm at his nemesis’s throat. “You really should know by now that I’m not to be trifled with, Potter.” He eased his pressure a bit. “It may be the last mistake you ever make.”
Instead of looking remotely threatened, Harry smiled like he knew something that Draco didn’t. That smirk was still present as Draco found himself on the floor with a knee on his chest, not a minute after he’d thought himself in complete control.
“Don’t mess with me, Malfoy. I’ve got better things to do than to listen to your idle threats.”
Unable to stop himself, Draco sneered, “Oh, like shag that Weasley bitch?”
Something snapped inside of Harry’s brain. He launched himself at Draco, fist first, landing blow after blow. Draco was not defenseless, though; he managed to squirm out from underneath the knee holding him down and take a few swings of his own. They both rolled around on the floor, desperately trying to gain an advantage over the other. Blood and bruises appeared on both of them, but neither noticed as they continued their feral brawl.
Eventually, with some luck and a slip of Harry’s glasses, Draco had managed to gain the upper hand. He used all of his body weight to pin his opponent to the floor, and their faces were aligned. They glared at one another, panting for breath, in a new type of battle, but this time, Draco was armed.
“Did you really think your fighting skills were improved by spending time with Weasley and Granger?”
“Better them than Death Eaters, Malfoy.”
That remark made Draco wince. It had to have been a sore subject, thinking of his virtual house arrest, compelled to follow the Dark Lord’s bidding or die.
Ever the sympathetic sot, Harry looked contrite. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly.
Draco shook his head. “No, you’re not. You wanted to hurt me, just like I did when I said that about your bint of a girlfriend. We’re even.” With a heavy sigh, Draco rolled off of Harry’s chest and sat on the floor, leaning his head against the wall. “I really don’t want to do this.”
“I know.” In an odd fit of compassion, probably brought on by exhaustion and some sort of head injury from the tussle, Harry sat down next to Draco. Both of them stared at the same patch of wall like it was a priceless piece of art.
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to stand in front of the most powerful people in the country and tell them every demeaning thing someone’s done to you?”
“Yes,” Harry said truthfully. “I grew up with that.”
“You know, Potter, we’re not so different, you and me.” Draco looked like he surprised himself with that statement.
Harry scoffed. “How are we not different in every way?”
“Hmm,” Draco said. “Well, we’ve both had our destinies mapped out since birth. Our families and friends hate each other, and neither side thinks that they’re wrong.” His eyes drifted to his forearm. “We’ve both been marked by the Dark Lord.”
With a shrug, Harry said, “I suppose.”
“See, I told you. No matter what House either of us are in, we’re not so different after all.”
Harry joined Draco in the derisive laughter at how ludicrous of the statement was, but it soon waned as he realised that it was time to go. The Wizengamot was waiting, and they had to get themselves cleaned up.
“Mister Malfoy, do you have anything to add to your defence?”
Kingsley Shacklebolt regarded Draco intently, who had already confessed to his plot to kill Albus Dumbledore as well as provided evidence of his forced servitude and that he had been threatened with death if he were to fail in his task. While it proved that Draco didn’t actually kill anyone, it still wasn’t enough to keep him out of Azkaban. But that was why Harry was there.
You know, Potter, we’re not so different, you and me.
Those words from earlier echoed in Harry’s head. An hour ago, the very idea had been completely ridiculous, but after what he had just seen and heard from Draco’s evidence — the fear, the terror, the pain — it changed the way he, as well as everyone else in the room, saw the whole situation. And this made the testimony that he was going to make right after that all the more important.
The stunned silence from the Wizengamot over the grisly sight of Draco’s recollections was broken by Kingsley, who said, “Mr Potter has asked to say something on Mr Malfoy’s behalf.”
Harry stood, the speech he’d memorised evaporated from his brain. He just hoped that he could make them all understand that Draco was not a killer and was not a danger to society. However, when all eyes turned to him, his tongue turned to stone in his mouth. It was only after Kingsley politely asked him to begin his statement that he regained his ability to speak.
Taking a deep breath, Harry began his rehearsed testimony. “Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, I’m here today to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy, who has been a victim of —”
Victim. That word stuck in his throat and left a bad taste. He was there to attest to Draco’s true nature, and he had just used one of the most ludicrous words in the English language in reference to him. His speech forgotten, Harry laughed, which drew curious looks from everyone, the most pronounced of which was from Draco.
“I have hated Draco Malfoy since I was eleven years old.” Harry took a minute to let the crowd gasp and murmur at his statement before he continued. “The first time I met him, he told me how worthless Hufflepuffs were, how Muggle-borns shouldn’t be allowed in Hogwarts, and that Hagrid was not a real person because he’s a half-breed.
“And then he stole things from classmates, taunted and tormented the weak, tried to trick me into a duel and landed us all in detention. He desperately wished that he was the Heir of Slytherin and was remorseless when Muggle-borns were turning up petrified. Also, let’s not forget the time he dressed up as a Dementor to try to scare me during a Quidditch match.”
As Harry let this hurricane of derogatory information about Draco sink in, he took the chance to look over at Draco, who had gone white as snow. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it felt right somehow for everyone to know these things. With that in mind, he continued. “He cheered the dragon that almost killed me in the Triwizard Tournament; he insulted my friends every chance he got since we met; he was part of Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad, which was just an excuse for that wretched woman to torture school children.”
This time, Harry didn’t stop to wait for the dramatic effect. “Is Draco Malfoy a good man? I’d be an idiot if I said yes. All his life, he’s been an entitled git who thought that he was better than everyone else, even his own friends. He was born into a family that saw Muggle-borns and whoever had anything with them to be lesser human beings, and he carried on those beliefs without stopping to question them for himself.
“But I was there the night Dumbledore died. I saw Draco draw his wand and Disarm the greatest wizard alive. He stood there and begged Dumbledore to give him a reason to kill him, but just like he always did, Dumbledore knew more than the rest of us. You see, he’d been aware of Draco’s plots against him the whole time and spent his last moments of life mocking the attempts, calling them feeble and weak.”
Harry turned to where Draco was sitting. “Let me ask you something, Draco. Why didn’t you kill Dumbledore when you Disarmed him? You’ve already said you went there that night to do just that. Why didn’t you do it?”
Draco looked at his hands and mumbled, “I don’t know.”
“What was that?” Harry said loudly in Draco’s face, trying to elicit the same reaction that he’d had on that night in the Astronomy Tower.
“I don’t know!” Draco repeated more forcefully.
“What kind of answer is that, Malfoy? Who gets asked why they didn’t kill someone and says ‘I don’t know’?”
Kingsley looked ready to interrupt Harry’s diatribe, and had the roles been reversed, he might have done the same, but he was so close to getting Draco to admit what he didn’t even know about himself. Once again, he shouted, “WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL ALBUS DUMBLEDORE?”
“I don’t know!” Draco bellowed, matching Harry’s volume as he looked ready to be sick. More quietly, he all but whimpered, “I don’t know.”
Harry turned away from Draco, catching disapproving glances from several members of the Wizengamot. Good. They were starting to understand, but this was the time for them to know everything. “So, who says ‘I don’t know’ when asked that question?” When all eyes were on him, he answered, “Someone who is finally starting to question what is right and wrong.” Harry felt a measure of self-satisfaction as many of them began nodding in agreement.
“Is Draco Malfoy a good man? No, he’s not, but consider whether punishing him for what he has done is worse than not giving him a chance to finish the change that started that night, for what he wouldn’t do.”
With that, Harry quietly went back to his seat as a loud clamour arose from the assembly. There were no other witnesses and no further evidence or testimony, so the last thing they would hear was what Harry had to say, and he knew that boded well for Draco. And as everyone filed out of chambers to leave the Wizengamot to their deliberation, he felt certain that the verdict was going to be the right one. In fact, he didn’t feel the need to stay for the judgment.
Just before Harry got to the lift, Draco, who was in the custody of another Auror, shouted after him, “Potter!” He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Draco, who nodded.
As he resumed his exit, Harry couldn’t help but smirk. Draco thought he had all the answers for so long, but in the end, his worst enemy was the one who kept his arse out of prison.
Draco and me, alike? Harry thought amusedly. Ludicrous.