Chapter 4

There is a sweetness in every woe
-Candide, Voltare

A/N - Not mine.

Harry Potter smiled as he slept on, blissfully unaware of the changes that would interrupt his slumber. A small puddle of drool lay on his pillow, remnants of his dream of happy life with Draco. He rolled over to one side, and dreamt on.

A thunderstorm, thick and angry, boiled across the gray sky, churning the very air with it's intensity. Harry once again found himself in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. The lightning struck across the sky, illuminating the gloomy rain for a brief moment before the thunder rolled, shaking the thick glass with it's noise.

A scream, loud and intense, crying out for release, salvation, anything to get away carried itself to Harry's ears. He turned, and noticed the open door. Drawing his wand, he passed through the doorway, peering down the hall to see if he could make out who or what made that scream.

Again it came, louder and more clear this time. Harry stopped and listened, the rain pouring down in buckets across the muted sky, and lashing against the paned glass. Another, followed by sobbing. A voice. A male's voice. Coming from one of the more central rooms of the manor. Harry moved, more quickly but cautiously now, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence.

A fourth scream, and Harry's blood drained.
Draco. Someone was hurting Draco. His grip on his wand tightened, and he could feel the small beads of sweat pull through his fingers and quickly evaporate. He ran, more quickly now, throwing all caution to the wind. Where was he?

The ballroom's double doors loomed large in front of him, and one of them was open, revealing parts of a ghastly scene inside. Harry crept up to the door, and peered inside.

Draco lay spread-eagled on a steel table, facing the ceiling. A figure in flowing black robes stood over him, laughing. There was a semi-circle of similarly clad figures surrounding the two of them, all facing away from Harry.

So glad you could join us, Potter. An eerie voice echoed off the cavernous interior.

The assembled echoed, in a monotone voice.

Stop harming Draco! Harry shouting, trying to move, but finding that he couldn't budge from his stance in front of the door.

I am doing nothing, Mister Potter. It is you who are harming him.

Voices rang around the room.

Harry struggled, with more insistence. There had to be a way to move! I've done nothing.

Nothing? A pale arm extended to Draco, making him scream all the louder. Harry flinches. Nothing? You have done everything, my dear boy. And for that we will pass judgment upon you.

Rang the chorus, and suddenly the room was bathed in a golden light.

I've not done anything! Harry protested, all the more confused.

We find you guilty, Harry Potter.

The last two figures on either side turned around. Fred and George Weasley's faces twisted in pain told him.

This time Ginny and Lavender.

A nameless Muggle and his wife.

The Dursley's.

Professor Dumbledore and Severus.

Ron and Hermione.

Lily and James Potter, turned, the last to do so. He stared at them, the hatred on their faces, loathing him. We know not who you are.

It was repeated down the line as the figure on the dais turned around. His own face stared back at him from under the raised hood. It was darker than his own, more sinister, but nonetheless a perfect match. Draco rose from his place, and stood next to Harry. His angelic face was a sight from the very fury of heaven itself. He bled from a hundred places, and his voice rang out, and hit Harry like an Bludger.

The line of figures parted, and the two stepped down from the dais, and came into line. They moved as a unit, and grew taller and taller, long shadows reaching high above into the sky, blackening all of existence.


Draco Malfoy woke from a decidedly unsound sleep, his blue sheets cocooned around him. He struggled out of them, one thought on his mind. Harry. Since seventh year, anytime that Harry had expressed a particularly strong emotion, Draco had experienced a reflection of it. Night after night, especially during the early months of Harry's Death Eater activities, those feelings kept Draco from sleeping. Anytime that Harry felt anything: revulsion, fear, anger, sadness, Draco felt a fraction of it. This feeling of helplessness that Draco felt at this moment was the strongest that he had felt anything from Harry in several weeks. The apparent murders of almost two dozen Death Eaters had not phased Harry in the least.

He threw on a pair of black pants, grabbed his wand, ran his fingers through his hair, and Disapparated to the Weasley household with a pop'.

When he arrived in their living room, there was no one there. Please let this be a false alarm. Please. He pleaded, but he knew in his heart that it was not. Drawing his wand, he padded carefully through the rest of the first floor, looking for anything out of place. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Coming back into the living room, he crossed to the stairs, and made his way up the wooden steps, trying not to make any noise. The first doorway on the right was the master bedroom, and the second was Arthurs, so that left either of the two guest rooms on the left to try. He tried the first handle, and it was locked. A quick Alohamora broke through the lock, and the door creaked open. Scanning quickly, Draco saw nothing. He closed the door, and locked it once again.

That left only one other door, and Draco sucked in a breath opening the door, his wand at the ready.

Harry crouched on the bed, shaking, eyes wide open. The sheets lay crumpled at the end of the bed, and Harry simply raised his hand and pointed to Draco, mouth moving incoherently. Moving swiftly, Draco crossed to the other side of the bed, where Harry was, and knelt down to him. Harry's arm had followed him across the room, and he stretched out his hand and felt Draco's face.

You're real. Harry whispered, stroking Draco's cheek. Draco was simply confused at what Harry was doing. His body responded, leaning into Harry. One part of him screamed at what was happening, the other knew that this was right.

Of course I'm real, Harry. What happened? Did you dream? Draco asked, his voice full of concern for the boy he loved.

I dreamt that everyone I knew had turned against me. That I was...torturing you. Again. Draco stopped, and drew back from Harry. It was too soon, too painful, to contemplate that kind of torture again. He had wanted to help Harry, but his mind had other ideas, and he began to back towards the door.

I shouldn't have come, Harry. I'm not ready for this. Draco told him, as he reached for the doorknob. If I could just compose myself, I would be fine, he chanted, hoping that it would help him.

Harry slumped back against the headboard, and closed his eyes. Draco felt a little safer, now that Harry wasn't looking at him. Stay with me? Harry pleaded, opening his eyes again and staring into Draco's soul.

This was the moment of truth for the two of them. Draco thought, analyzing the situation. hurt me, more than you'll ever know, more than I can ever tell you. You broke what was sacred to me, what I loved - our love, and turned it into sacrilege. I still love you - who you were, not who you are. Who you have become is a stranger. I don't know you, and I don't know if I love you the way you are now. Harry's face broke at this, and his chin fell.

I am who I am, Draco, just as you are who you are. We can be nothing else than what we are. I love you Draco. Not the old you, not the new you, but you. You came to me, knowing that I was in pain. I still am. Please, stay with me? Harry pleaded.

Draco shook his head, and turned the handle, leaving the room in silence.


Harry was numb. Beyond numb, if such a thing were possible for a man who had seen so much in the world. All of his Death Eater activities hadn't affected him as Draco's rejection had. His love, his thread to hope and sanity - had rejected him when he needed him. Anger quickly boiled up inside of him, and he gripped the sides of his sheets tightly, trying to rip them to shreds. Rip. A tear opened, quickly widening as Harry pulled them apart.

But he wasn't angry at Draco alone, no, his anger was directed at himself - his sacrifices, his choices and the consequences that he had considered, but hadn't been able to understand - until he was in the midst of it all. It had seemed so simple, three years ago, to leave Hogwarts, fight for Voldemort, kill him, and then return. He knew that people would hate him for what he'd done, for his choice in life. But he hadn't intended to hurt Draco, the one treasure he valued above all. It had happened however, and there was no use in pretending that it hadn't.

If Draco couldn't accept who he was now, was over.

Shaking his head, Harry dismissed that thought as irrational and impulsive, something that being a Death Eater had culled out of him. It would take time, but he would win Draco back, even if it took the rest of his life.

Rising from the bed, he quickly performed a few charms, made the bed and fled from the room. Closing the door, he glanced down the hallway, and just as he thought, Draco sat slumped up against one wall, staring off into space. Without another word, he plopped down next to him, settling his hand onto Draco's, rubbing the veins softly.

You should have resisted, Harry. Told him no. Draco told him, refusing to look at him.

You know I couldn't do that. The risk was too great. For both of us. Someone else would have killed you. Harry sighed, not looking at Draco either.

I'm better off dead. Stung, Harry clamped his mouth shut. Draco continued. I loved you, Harry. Everything about you. I thought that I could do this, see you, help you. But I can't. It's too painful for me. And you can't expect me to love you when I hardly know anything about you now. He laughed harshly, just once, and set his head in his hand, sighing.

I'm Harry Potter. Harry stuck his hand out to Draco, who lifted his head, and smiled. He shook it.

I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy, Potter. And don't you forget it. Draco smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Because if you do, there will be...consequences.

Harry smiled, and drew Draco into a hug. It felt...right, wrapping his arms around Draco's thin frame, and resting his head on the other's shoulder. Draco, after a moment, followed suit, and they sat there for sometime, just holding each other, expressing without words what could not be said with them.

Draco's hands pulled away from Harry's back, and rested on his forearms. The two locked gazes, green meeting gray, each searching for forgiveness. Harry wanted this, needed this. For three years he had been alone, and had begged and pleaded to let Draco love him after all that he had done. Slowly, inexorably, Harry nodded, and Draco chastely moved forward.

Their lips met. It was not a particularly good kiss, as kisses went, Harry reflected later. He and Draco did, after all, having morning breath, but it was right. It lasted only a few seconds, and in that time it was as if the last three years had been easier for all of them, as if Harry and Draco were together and simply greeting each other in the morning.

When it ended, Draco took Harry's hand in his, and they lapsed into silence, fingers intertwined.


Wizard! Witch! Which wizard for the witch? Ginny Weasley belted out at the top of her lungs. It was the latest from the Weird Sisters, and a small wireless box in her bathroom backed her up. She ignored a loud thump from the flat next to hers, and continued to sing, louder and more forcefully while she readied herself for breakfast with Lavender.

Setting her hair up, Ginny glanced into the mirror, and deemed herself ready to face the day. She was dressed in bottle blue work robes, with frayed edges around the collar and cuffs. These robes had been a present from Percy two Christmases ago, and she had worn them to work basically every day since then. It would have been a matter of a few simple charms to fix the fraying, but she liked it that way.

Ginny grabbed her wand, unlocked her door, and headed out, placing several serious Locking Charms on the door before she left for the day.

She stepped out into a side street of Diagon Alley, and unlike the main thoroughfare of Wizarding Britain, her street was quiet. Ginny passed a row of seemingly shabby houses, all crooked and bent over, almost sad looking. From the inside however, they offered the most modern conveniences that the wizarding world could provide.

Being careful not to run into frenzied parents trying to gather all of their children's school supplies, or witches and wizards restocking their own needs, Ginny made her way into the flow of traffic, and walked towards the brick wall that marked the boundary between the Muggle world and her own.

Tapping on the bricks with her wand sent the red bricks twisting and turning, soon forming an arch that opened into the small alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny passed under the arch, which began to close, and entered into the gloomy haze through a side door.

Waiting for her, as usual, was Lavender Brown. Ginny embraced her friend warmly, and they sat down at one of the private tables. Lavender looked a little tired, although she still had taken the time this morning to dress herself. As opposed to Ginny, she was the career witch and took pride in her appearance; brown hair pulled back harshly, face dusted lightly with Witch's Handy-Dandy Quick Make-Up Spells, and robes that always seemed to be pressed and new everyday.

They took a menu, and after a moment, pressed their wands to the choices that they wanted.

Lavender began, looking very unsure of herself. Ginny supposed that what she had told her last night had sent her into a tailspin.

He's back, Lav. Nothing's changed since last night. Lavender looked a little crestfallen; Ginny had assumed correctly.

I had hoped that it was all a dream.

So did I, if that makes you feel any better. But he's back, and I want to help him.

But everything that he's done to our world, Gin...we just can't ignore that!

No, we can't. Ginny certainly wouldn't. But knowing that Harry did something that the entire Auror College couldn't was a...mitigating factor in Ginny's mind. But he finished fighting our battles for us, and he has returned. All we would be doing is allowing the public to know the truth before the Ministry has a chance to claim the victory for itself.

Lavender sighed, and shifted slightly. She took out a small brown notebook from her pack and began to write. Ever since Ginny and she had begun to work together, she had done this. Ginny had only seen one page of it - it was in code, and written in such a way that apparently Lavender knew what it said. Ginny assumed that Lavender was debating the merits of the assignment.

After a moment, Lavender looked up, and her blue eyes stared at Ginny for a moment.

Let's do it. I want you to know that I almost didn't agree to even listen to you last night, and would have gone to the Ministry. But...I couldn't do it, not to you, and not to Terry. The truth is far more important than anything else, and we must tell the world the truth about the fall of You-Know-Who. Lavender finished writing, and shut the book, placing it back in her back.

Breakfast arrived; a plate of eggs and toast for Lavender, and a ham steak for Ginny. While they ate, they talked of nothing consequential. Draco's latest scheme, the upcoming year at Hogwarts, Ron's career, their parents, they even spoke of the war, anything to keep them off the subject of their latest project until they could get to the office. They finished, and Tom came over to see them and collect their money.

Good day ladies, enjoy your meal?

Muchly, thank you Tom. Have you heard anything about any new Death Eater activity? Lavender asked, unsure of how he would react. Tom had lost a son to the war, a victim of an attack on Hogsmeade. After that, Tom had made it his business to report any and all Death Eater activity to the Ministry, if he caught word of it. Several lesser Death Eaters had been captured by the Aurors this way, and Tom had been present at each and everyone of their trials.

Tom regarded them for a moment, and smiled. Not today. The article in last nights Prophet really stirred things up around here, ladies. Many of my customers hope that this second war is over, but who knows? There was a time about a year ago when there were no attacks for almost two weeks. Have a nice morning.

They handed him the two galleons, three sickles and five knuts that the breakfast had cost, and he left them to leave. Taking everything with them, they stepped once again out into the alleyway behind the Cauldron, and tapped on the brick wall. It moved aside quickly, and soon enough they were back in the throngs of people searching for school supplies and daily needs.

After being swept up in the hustle and bustle of the early morning shopping for a few minutes, the offices of the Daily Prophet loomed above them, the wooden sign swinging slightly in the breeze. Ginny pushed the door open, and they went inside.


Ron awoke from his night's sleep in a haze. His left arm was draped over Hermione's stomach and his leg lay under her's. They had both been exhausted last night, after the hectic day had occurred, and it was in the calm of morning that Ron reflected on the past forty-eight hours.

I can't believe that he's come back to face trial. That simple statement went against everything that he had convinced himself to believe in about Harry. He convinced himself over a three year period that Harry had lied about everything seventh year - the time that Harry had come back from his initiation bleeding, but had lied and said he had fallen down a few stairs, or the time that Harry had been out hunting Muggles, and his bed had been empty for two night - and even Draco hadn't known where he was, at least until later. But in light of everything, even Ron had to reexamine where he stood. He wanted Harry to pay, there was no doubt about that, but he would help Harry survive until he could stand trial. Ron would also ensure that Harry's trial was a fair one. No one, especially not Harry, deserved to have a show trial. Harry of course, would be the one hardest to convince the wizarding public that he did not deserve one. They would be out for blood.

Hermione rolled over, and cradled herself into Ron's lightly muscular chest. Morning, love. Ron said softly, watching her light figure sleep. It was peaceful like this - and Ron hoped that there would be many more mornings like this one. Hermione lifted her head slightly, turned, and kissed his chest softly. she replied, and set her head down again.

Sleep well? He said easily, slipping into old habits.

Hermione replied luxuriously, obviously reveling in the early morning solitude with her husband. He shivered at that thought, happy that she was his.

She sat up, stretched, marched into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and blew him a kiss. He smiled, and closed his eyes once again. His stomach grumbled, just as it did every morning, and in typical fashion, he responded. Ron's shower could wait. He slipped off the duvet, and padded to the door. Turning the handle, he was totally and utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

Bloody Hell! He exclaimed, turning red at the sight before him. Harry and Draco sat opposite his door, Harry's head on Draco's shoulder, and Draco's head laying on Harry's. Of all the things to see early in the morning, this is definitely not one that I want to see everyday. It was one thing, Ron summated, to be gay and flaunting it for all of the world to see, or to be gay and go about your life quietly, leaving your gay-ness for the privacy of your own flat. Of the two, Ron definitely preferred the latter.

They were asleep, and they had made up, apparently. Why was beyond Ron, but he was sure that he would hear all about it once they woke up. Shaking his head, he went down the hall, down the stairs, and went in search of breakfast.

A few moments later, eggs were cracked, bacon was frying, and ham was broiling. Coffee perked in the machine, and orange juice was being poured. Sometimes magic was so useful when you were hungry.

He set the table while things were cooking, and when Hermione, Harry and Draco had come down the stairs, everything was ready.

Weasley can cook? You have him trained well, Granger. Draco drawled at Ron, who bristled good-naturedly. Although the barbs continued after they left school, it seemed a little...petty to both of them, and so they had come to some sort of truce. It held, for the most part.

I do. And sometimes, even Hermione joined in.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, Ron pondering his day, and what it could possibly bring. He had spent the past two weeks doing very little at work, wondering if and when the Death Eaters would attack again, and now that Harry had returned he knew that he'd never need to worry about it.

Ron waved the dishes into the kitchen, turned the faucet on, and pulled his cloak on. He kissed Hermione on the cheek, and said good-bye to Harry and Draco, and Disapparated to the Ministry with a pop.


Hermione, Harry and Draco were left sitting at the table with the abrupt departure of Ron from their midst. She chuckled softly.

Now the only time that Ron gets like that is when he is annoyed with someone, and doesn't want to deal with it. Hermione turned to the two boys, already having arrived at the proper conclusion. Is there anything that you two would like to tell me? She raised her eyebrow in anticipation.

The two of them shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the idea that she had found out before they had told her. She noticed that Draco tilted his head slightly to the left and Harry to the right, and they looked at each other for a brief moment. That was all it took to bring her conclusion beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Harry spoke first. Draco has accepted me as I am, and I guess you
could say that we're back together again. Ron must have seen us in the hallway this morning, sleeping, and wasn't too pleased about it.

That's putting it mildly, Harry. Draco added.

Harry, you know that Ron was never truly comfortable with you and Draco. The wizarding world is very...needy of children, and since the gay males don't reproduce, there is this pressure to at least have a wife, even if you are gay. Look at Dean and Seamus. It's all well and good to be experimenting' during school, but when you get beyond that age... Her voice trailed off slightly, and Draco nodded, in agreement. Obviously he had heard much of the same lecture from someone in his life.

And we can't love who we want because of this?

No, no, it's nothing like that. It just...the wizarding population is so small that while it's not condemned as it is in much of Muggle society, it is frowned upon. Children are an important part of our world, and it's the only way that we can continue. You can love whoever you want. I think sometimes even Ron looks at Justin Finch-Fletchly and thinks yeah, he's hot'. But he never does anything about it. You and Draco have some of that conditioning, but it's not nearly as complete because of your pasts. You can love who you want, because you have no one to tell you otherwise.

I love you, Potty. Draco laughed.

I love you too. Harry laughed as well, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that they were together again.

Hermione glanced at a small clock on the wall, and noticed that Ginny and Lavender should be in the office by now. Draco, do you want to come with me when I go to see Ginny to discuss the articles, and what we want to say with them?

No, thank you Granger. Harry and I still have a lot to talk about. Draco pulled Harry's hand into his own.

Draco, go with Hermione. I'll be fine here. I took care of myself for three years. Harry stated firmly.

Draco said snippily. I'll go, since it is, after all, helping Harry.

She smiled at the two men sitting opposite her. They were so vulnerable now, tentatively taking the steps back to the road of love and trust that they had left over three years ago, that any and all slights or unhappiness on either side could send them into a tizzy. It was really cute. She felt lucky to be able to watch them. Harry yawned, stretching upwards. He obviously hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.

I'm going back to bed. He announced, as if it were any surprise.

We'll leave a little before lunch, Draco. Be ready.

Yes mother. Draco and Harry left the dining room, leaving Hermione alone. She grabbed a space piece of parchment and a quill and began to write. It was going to be a long day.


Justin Finch-Fletchly's office sat right by the assignment board for the day. While he wasn't working, he enjoyed watching the passer-by's scurrying from place to place. He was calm at all times, the model of an aristocratic upbringing. A flash of red caught his eye. Weasley had apparently arrived, and was checking the board. He decided to have a little fun before he was to leave to pick up Ginny.

He sauntered over to Ron. Hello, Weasley.

Ron nodded, not paying much attention to the leaning figure in the doorway. Justin smiled, and plucked a stray hair from his midnight blue robes.

Any Death Eaters you're required to take care of today Weasley? Justin queried. Potter, for example, he barked a laugh. You know it's too bad that he keeps getting away from you. One might even think you were letting him escape on purpose.

At this Ron whirled on Justin, grabbed the front of his robes, and pushed him back into his office, shutting his door. Do not say another word about Potter, Fletchly. I have no patience for that today. Ron spat into Justin's smooth face, and Justin caught that slight slip at the name of Potter. Something was up with Weasley, and Justin thought he would peruse it a moment more.

Are you hunting Potter, Weasley?

Weasley's face had returned to impassivity, but it was a barely controlled impassive gaze. No. He is not on my list. Yours?

Justin replied, and Ron nodded. Something was up with Weasley, and it wasn't the fact that he supposedly wasn't still hunting Harry Potter. Justin knew that if given the chance, Weasley would kill Potter and be done with it.

With that, Ron turned and strode out of Justin's office, slamming the door behind him.

Tut tut Weasley. With a temper like that, you'll never make it very far in this organization, Justin told himself, and he smiled broadly. He grabbed his cloak, tidied up his desk, and let the door close as he exited his office.

Within a few moments he was at an official Disapparation point, and he Disapparated to Diagon Alley. Ginny Weasley in about an hour would no longer be a free woman. That was a good feeling.

Diagon Alley was it's typical busy self, with the height of the morning traffic filling the confined space. Justin noted with some satisfaction that both wizards and witches looked about them with trepidation, still unsure after more than two weeks of no attacks, that there wouldn't be one.

He wore his robes with ease, and his Auror badge glinted off of the high morning sun. A bubble of space appeared around him, partly by design and partly because he enjoyed having freedom of movement.

Justin came to the offices of the Daily Prophet, and glared at the door for just a moment. He did not like most reporters, due to the fact that they did nothing for the Ministry but create trouble. If the Minister of Magic said something was so, it was not Justin's place to contradict him.

He pushed open the small door, and walked into pandemonium. Newspaper offices are at the best of times not very organized places, and if magic is involved, you should fear for your life. Owls swooped around carrying inter-office mail, reporters rushed from desk to desk, quills and parchments flying behind them. Copy articles flew unbidden just below the ceiling, and would land on seemingly random desks. Surveying it all at one end of the room was a desk on a slightly raised platform, with two other desks behind it. The desk looked like something had exploded on top of it with papers landing and taking off, owls circling, waiting for their parchment to be finished, and various reporters all talking at the same time to a very large man sitting behind the desk. He had an enormous neck, and his bushy eyebrows nearly covered his droopy eyes. He wore pinstripe robes, blue with a gray stripe, and a large chain went from one side of the robes to the other.

Chortle McNottle was the very prominent editor of the Daily Prophet and when necessary, he could be very intimidating. He was currently holding four conversations and writing at the same time. This was a man who knew what work was. Justin strode up to the platform and cleared his throat.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then McNottle put his quill down, and stood up. Leave us, he told his other business, and they filed down the two steps to the main floor, and went back to their desks. Justin climbed the steps, and stood in front of the imposing man. Fudge said you wanted to see me? Make it quick, he said impatiently, pulling at his mustache.

Ginny Weasley is to be arrested for subversive activities.

NcNottle leaned back in his chair and was silent for a moment. I see, he finally said, leveling his gaze at Justin. I don't believe for a minute that Ginny Weasley is a Death Eater, or any other sort of subversive. I don't have a choice of letting you take her, but you listen to me. I will do everything in my power to stop this.

Justin gazed right back, and leaned over the desk. Don't think that you are above reproach, Mr. McNottle. There are...things that I'm sure you would rather not have aired, correct? There had been rumors, but nothing substantial. There were rumors about every notable in the world. I would hate to see you in Azkaban. Justin laughed.

Brown eyes flickered. I have nothing to hide.

Of course you do. Everyone does. Just make sure that you keep silent, and everything will be fine.

Get out of my sight. Justin noticed that he did not explicitly say
get out'. Justin smiled once more, bowed slightly, and strode down the stairs and deeper into the building, looking for Ginny Weasley's office.

He found her office seven doors down one of the corridors, apparently she and Lavender Brown shared one, which would make things all the better. The plain wooden door, saying only Ginny Weasley and Lavender Brown on a small plaque on it was shut. He pulled out his wand, not particularly caring if anyone saw him.

He cried, and the door shot open. Charging in, Justin watched as the shock registered on the two girl's faces. he called out, and suddenly Ginny was unconscious on the floor and Lavender was reaching for her wand.

Don't touch anything, Brown. Justin told her warily, his blood pumping and fingers tingling. He always got a high after an arrest, and this time was particularly sweet. She's being charged with being a traitor and subversive. I wouldn't want to be her friend right now, if I were you. Or should I arrest you as well?

Lavender struggled with herself as Justin watched. The devotion to one's comrades was a remarkable thing, and one that he could use to his advantage. She's not a Death Eater, Fletchly. Lavender said bitterly, plopping down in her chair.

There have been eye-witness accounts of her Death Eater activities. I could kill her here and no one could utter a squeak of complaint, least of all you. Do not tempt me. He moved quickly to quell any opposition, by using a Levitating Charm on Ginny, and quickly pushing her out of her office. Lavender followed silently slightly behind him, watching. He was beaming, his blood pumping and he felt on top of the world at this moment. Nothing like an arrest.

They reached the main room of the Prophet and Justin could barely contain his glee. He tried looking serious, and he put on his best aristocratic face, but it was very difficult. Everyone was staring, and the noise of the press sunk to a lull, with only the murmuring of whispers to keep the sounds going. Chortle McNottle rose from his desk, furious. But even he kept silent.

Justin, Ginny and Lavender reached the landing, and literally ran into Hermione Granger-Weasley and Draco Malfoy walking up the stairs.

Hermione almost fell backwards, but Draco grabbed her arm and prevented her from falling. Any reply that Draco would have made to Justin about watching where one was going died on his lips when he realized who was Stunned.

Justin took the opportunity to speak. Well, well, well, he said, his blue eyes darting from Granger to Malfoy, I'm taking Ginny Weasley in to be tried for subversion. She's a Death Eater of the highest caliber. Now, get out of my way. With that, he pushed Granger against the wall, and floated Ginny down the stairs, not bothering to look back at the stunned faces. He smiled. Today was turning out to be a good day.


A/N - Chapter 4 for all to enjoy. Thanks to Nancy for the beta. She's wonderful. Go read her Malfoy P.I. up at Schnoogle. Thanks to all for their reviews of chapter 3. Please take a moment to be a responsible reader and review chapter 4. What did you like? What do you think will happen? Are Harry and Draco really back together? Will anything break them apart? What about Ginny? Any questions you wished answered? Chapter 5 will be up on Nov. 1st, so mark your calanders. If you wish to be added to my notification list, please review and leave your e-mail address.

From Chapter 3

Myr - Excellent that we get 2 chapters before the end of Oct. Your story is very engaging. I love it! Thanks for the review! What did you think of chapter 4?

Kandra - No, no one interferred - but the Trial of Ginny Weasley will be on the front page of the Prophet for days to come. As to sleeping without watch - Harry did come back on his own, and although trust is something that once lost, is hard to regain, I think Harry is slowly doing so. And yes, you will find out exactly how it was done. Thanks for the review!

MOI - Enough of Harry's side of things? Thanks for the review!

Mistykasumi - Gee, thanks. *Blushes*. Well, he might just drop down and die...although not for a while. :)

Riisha - It's okay, I understand. You will find out what happens at the Ministry...and with Abar and everyone. Lots coming up! Thanks for the review!

Kaisa - Thanks, love. Any buts' on this chapter?

Thanks to all who if we could just get them to review...
AIM : Constantine1453
Y!M - franzjoseph1916