In the DeathEater trials that followed the end of the war a great horror emerged. This time there was no buying anyone off, nor false trials. Each and every one of the marked and caught men were given Truth Serum and asked what crimes they committed, and a list of other known DeathEaters. It was a surprisingly short time before the world was comfortable again in the knowledge that nearly all of them were caught.
But within the ranks of Voldemort there had been levels of authority. Levels of knowledge and levels of Horror. The worst of this was one who went simply by the name 'Raven'. When Lucius Malfoy was finally run down, he was the first to mention him. Right hand man to Lord Voldemort, everyone assumed he would know the most secrets, but in the end, he just created the biggest one.
Once the name was mentioned all sorts of stories came out. People began to remember the DeathEater as one who had done some of he most torturing and killing, but no matter who was caught, they never found his true name. Even when Bellatrix was dragged in screaming, she didn't know.
For a while after the trials, fear ran through the wizarding world. What if this 'Raven'; a man who was in Voldemort's inner circle, but never named… what if he decided to take up where his master left off. But as the months passed, and the wizarding world fell comfortably into peace, Raven just became a distant worry. They forgot.
He never planned to be a hero.
Malfoy sighed, looking up from the paperwork in front of him. He hated paperwork. It had been something he always loathed, probably (if he was being truthful to himself) because it always seemed to pull his father away from him. Of course, looking back, he could only thank his lucky stars. He shook his hand out silently after signing off on the last form. Tomorrow was the biggest day in wizarding history.
Harry Potter Day.
Oh how he loathed it. He usually spent the day getting drunk with Sev. Despite the disgusting lengths they went to celebrate him; Draco couldn't begrudge Harry Potter, no matter how he tried. He had been quite close when the final battle went down. He, like so many others, hadn't understood the significance of many things at the time, but he remembered it nonetheless.
Potter had been on the run for two years, before finally being captured by the Dark Lord. He'd been tortured for two weeks, which hadn't seemed so bad at the time. It wasn't until later they found the time magic in Voldemort's base. Those two weeks had been just under a year for Potter. But, despite all odds, Potter had escaped. It wasn't the only time he got caught either, but he always escaped eventually. That last time he'd managed to break out, taking, of all things, Voldemorts snake with him.
Everyone had thought he was just being vindictive when he dropped Nagini's head at Voldemort's feet. None of the had understood the significance of that, or the other trinkets that came out of Potter's pockets one by one. They had understood the dawning look of horror on Voldemort's face. The moment when the darkest Lord in living history tried to flee, and Potter just laughed. The two had conversed in parseltongue for some time before the famous duel. The one that shocked the nation.
Potter cast Avada Kedavra.
Potter on the offensive. They had then battled with some of the darkest and lightest magic Draco had ever witnessed. Both of them comfortably switching between the two with ease. Liquid flame of fiendfire had followed a strange golden mist that turned the skin on Voldemorts hand to melted wax. Patroni battled while objects conjured levitated at deadly speeds. Draco had paused in his own battle, they all had, and watched in awe. He couldn't help think at the time this is the boy I taunted in school all those years.
It was the most amazing show of magic he would ever see. He'd even been aware of that at the time, but it still left him bitter. He had been one of the few close enough to see the emotions on the faces of the two at the time. Something had passed between them, Voldemort had looked almost human… resigned, when Harry cast that last curse. The forbidden killing curse. The one that had landed Harry in Azkaban.
Draco shook of his mood and scowled down at the desk, pushing himself away and grabbing his coat before heading out the door.
"You aren't going again are you?"
Who would have ever thought he would end up working side by side with a Weasley? Ron Weasley what's more. They actually got on, now that Draco had reformed. Of course after the fabled duel from their training years, everyone just didn't mention Potter.
Draco didn't answer.
"He doesn't even talk Draco. Never has, never will."
"I can't give up on him."
"And you're saying I have?"
Draco didn't answer, but they both knew the truth. Ron Weasley had given up on Harry Potter the moment Hermione Granger was killed by a rebel DeathEater. Harry had stood there and laughed.
At the time Draco couldn't help but think of the stories heard of Sirius Black; so shocked he'd laughed at innocent little Petter Pettigrew getting one up on the Marauders.
"I'll keep going until he does."
"It's been ten years Draco. Harry just isn't there anymore."
But Draco knew that wasn't true.
Harry never responded to anyone. Just slumped down in his cell. They had all thought him insane, still did. Except for Draco. He'd gone to see him the first year they had Harry Potter Day. Gone to whine and complain about how the wizarding world could be so pathetic as to celebrate a hero they themselves had locked up. Draco had talked himself into a rage, when Harry moved. He turned over and looked up at Draco. Another look he'd seen on the face of Voldemort, the moment before Harry killed him.
Remorse. Scarier for the faces it sat on.
It had been ten years. Ten long years since the war ended. Harry's sentence would be up in two more. The public outcry had been huge when Harry went to trial, and had caused a significant reduction in sentence. But everyone had expected Harry to fight it. Even Draco. Instead he had shocked them all.
"Harry Potter. You are charged with the casting of an Unforgivable. How do you plead?"
The trial had been a farce. Supposed proof that in the new wizarding world no one was above being trialed. They were all ready to listen to him explain his way out of it, and had multiple witnesses lined up for after his plead. People had been joking about the ticket you got for handing in your wand when in the courts as being a new souvenir. They had no idea.
Harry Potter had rocked their world once more. Harry had refused to answer anything else, and had simply reverted to Parseltongue when questioned under truth serum. A Slytherin tactic if ever there was one. For no one was left to translate.
Draco sighed and apperated to the docks, handing his wand over to the guard and heading to the boat for the long journey to Azkaban Island. He shuddered involuntarily. Draco had often found himself closer to history then he would like… especially when it came to Potter. He'd been sitting waiting to be a witness when the dementors took Potter. Another look on Potter's face that would haunt him forever.
It would have killed Draco, if someone had told his eleven-year-old self, that Harry Potter would haunt his dreams every night. But he did. It was probably why he dragged himself to Azkaban twice a year. Once on Harry Potter Day: The day the war ended, and once on July 31st. Potter's birthday.
The dementors were as creepy as always. Draco had a good memory, and still remembered Remus Lupin's class back in third year. Lupin had jumped in front of the Boggart, and all the DeathEaters children had been secretly relieved. All of them sure that Harry Potter's greatest fear would be the Dark Lord. It had come as a shock the year after when he'd run into a boggart in the Tri-Wizard maze.
Dementors made Draco's skin crawl, but he couldn't imagine being locked up with your greatest fear for ten years. There seemed to be more of them around today too. Draco shrugged it off, trying to slip past them without letting his skin contact them. They left him feeling permanently burnt. Like his soul was tarnished. He could still feel exactly where the two had held him for his own trial. He remembered the rumors that Potter had been an inch away from being kissed in his third year too. Draco had a good memory… he hoped Potter didn't.
He approached the bars and slid onto the small chair provided, looking in to the skeletal pile at the back of the cell that was the great Harry Potter.
"Still here then?"
He tried the same approach every year. He nearly had a heart attack when Harry answered.
"Don't hold your breath next time."
It took more than a few minutes of spluttering before Draco could continue. Especially when Potter sat up and smirked at him just as he was regaining composure.
"You've got two years yet."
Potter looked decidedly amused.
Draco growled in frustration.
"I always did get on your nerves." Harry observed.
"How are you still sane?"
"That wasn't the question I was expecting you to ask." Harry admitted, confusing Draco more.
Harry merely raised one eyebrow under scraggily hair.
"Fine then. Why'd you do it?"
"Can you keep a secret Draco?"
"I can keep many secrets."
"I'm sure. But you'll have to swear an oath to hear this one."
Draco was shocked, but being a Malfoy still, it barely showed it. Of course Potter still smirked at him in that knowing way.
"This is going to ruin my world again isn't it?" Draco whined, but swore an oath nonetheless.
Potter observed him carefully, seeming to drink in every hair, every wrinkle and spot of Draco's face.
"I was Raven."
And just like that, Draco's world spun again. By the time he had come to his senses again, he found himself back in the little room on the dock, receiving his wand back from a worried Auror.
It took another ten years for Draco to come to terms with the small sentence that had rocked his world so badly. He was now third in charge to the Auror ranks, and, unfortunately, still stuck on paperwork when Ron walked in.
"Do you think it's true?"
"Yeah I mean… it can't be! He's- he's…" But Ron couldn't verbalize it."
"HOW CAN YOU REMAIN SO CALM?!" Ron yelled, knocking a pile of papers of a shelf as he paced.
"I always saw the potential."
"For Harry to become the next Dark Lord?"
He was already there in the last war. Draco desperately wanted to yell, but the oath still held.
Draco finally looked up from a note he'd been writing through Ron's whole mess.
"I resigned today."
"Harry's just not–… What?"
"But you-… you're-… why?"
"Because Potter is the next Dark Lord. I have much to much liking for my own skin to stick around."
"You were a spy in the last war. A war hero! Gods, people are going to need you."
"I understand where he's coming from."
"The muggles treated him like crap."
"Dark Lord Potter isn't worried about muggles."
"…then the wizarding world demanded he sacrifice his remaining family and life, before throwing him away."
Of course no one but Draco realised exactly what went on. After the shocking visit to Azkaban so many years ago, Draco had done his research… once he came to terms with his shock. He found out just how Potter's connection to Voldemort had worked. That his dreams let him feel every crucio, every torture or curse ever committed by Voldemort. Draco was surprised he hadn't snapped sooner. The funniest thing was Harry had tried to save them all from himself.
First when he was released from Azkaban he'd shocked everyone. He had a propensity for doing that after all. Potter had refused to leave his cell. The lock had been undone, and the dementors had been told to retreat so he could be free. Ron, despite the years, had been there, with Lupin and McGonagall, and countless others from Harry's life. Even the Weasley chit. Ginny Draco supposed he should call her. Harry just plain refused to leave the cell. That was when they discovered he could wandlessly ward it of all living creatures. And semi-dead ones too. The dementors couldn't enter, but neither could they.
"So you're just giving in then?" Ron brought Draco back to the present.
"Bloody hell." Ron slumped down in the chair. "Victoria spent all morning convincing me out of that."
"I'm afraid that won't work for me."
Ron nodded. "I'm scared shitless."
Draco simply nodded. "I remember the fight at the end of the last war."
"The magic they held…" Ron sounded reverential, despite the sadness.
"I remember the look on Voldemort's face before he gave in." Draco all but whispered.
"Dumbledore's getting the order together again."
Draco didn't respond, simply beginning to sort through his draws, looking for anything he might need.
"What's Lupin doing?"
"I always thought he was smarter than he seemed."
"Oh Merlin. How could he do this?" Ron demanded.
Draco managed to survive two more years before Potter tracked him down. For a final time, Harry Potter warped his world.
He was, although he never planned to admit it, cowering on the ground waiting for the final blow when Potter spoke.
"Malfoy is that you?"
Draco had shamelessly whimpered.
That's when it happened. Draco went from a victim waiting for the final stroke of his life to… Draco didn't even know.
Suddenly a wand clattered at Draco's feet and he reached the strangest point of his life.
It was a strangled whisper that sent shockwaves. The biggest because it hadn't come from Draco's mouth. It had come from Harry's. Draco had shakily reached out and grasped the fabled Holly and phoenix wand, and cast his final unforgivable.
The will of Harry James Potter had included an autobiography. Harry's magic had been so strong it had been eating away at him when not used. It had been painful, and Harry had never found a release until he cast that crucio on Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry. She and Voldemort had gloated about the failed curse, but they didn't realise the truth. Harry had dropped it out of shock, not because he didn't hold enough anger.
Then had come the prophecy. Pressure had built steadily on Harry, and he'd watched friend after friend fall. And the dreams.
It had been the death of Sirius that had snapped him. Sirius' body had been found extremely mutilated next to Harry when he woke up one morning. Draco remembered it clearly, it was just after he'd started spying for the order. There had been that strangled scream that would forever haunt all those that heard it, then nothing. Potter had been an emotional blank. Pressure within the Order had doubled for Potter, and there had been more than a few that blamed Potter for Sirius' death. As if he were personally responsible for a house-elf betraying it's master. Who even knew elves could travel through the veil?
Harry had snapped. Apparently he put a glamour on to sneak out, and tried to hand himself over to Voldemort. The Deatheater who found him assumed he was a recruit and took him on a raid. He was forced to be included, and finally found a release. He'd tried to stop going, but the power in him wouldn't leave. He'd tried to tell multiple order members, but was just laughed at. After a while he just stopped trying.
He tried to kill himself seventeen times between the final battle and his day in court. He'd known what he was becoming. What he'd done to his soul. Nothing would do it. He hadn't expected to last the war, and by the end had been praying he wouldn't.
In the end he couldn't hide in Azkaban anymore, and he'd been let loose on the world. Trying thirty more ways to kill himself, most of them multiple times.
None of them worked. He was the master of Death.
It wasn't until he re-read about the deathly hallows that he discovered the curse and understood. And it wasn't until a little under a month before he died when he discovered he had to lose the elder wand, as the only deathly hallow that he could, he'd won the stone by right of conquest, and had the cloak by right of blood.
Draco hadn't meant to be a hero. He wasn't to the world. He simply left Potter's body… Harry's body, where it was and fled. No one ever knew who killed the Dark Lord Potter.
But Harry's will had caught up with him, a letter was left in his will saying that Draco was a hero. Harry's hero. The only one who could save him.
Draco could still bring Harry's last moments to his minds eye. The look on Potter's face.
He had to wonder if Harry had been Voldemort's hero too.