#I’m loving this recast I’m jumping on my bed tearing at the walls running around the yard yippeeee

[astradella]

British (affectionate for once)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 10)

(Okay- I'm not going to lie, I took a little bit of sadistic joy at everyone's outrage and devastation over the previous chapter. But only because I know what's coming. I promise we'll have a happy ending. Anyway. Start with part 1 on tumblr or jump over to AO3 to read the whole thing, if you like.)

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Harry woke up smiling.

This was not something that had ever happened to him prior to the last week, but now the bed smelled like Draco, and the sun was slipping in through the curtains and warming his face, and Harry was free.

He'd never been this happy in his life.

Rolling over, he reached out, patting the bed and trying to find his lover's body so he could drag him over and kiss him awake.

When his searching turned up empty, Harry opened one eye to look at the empty space next to him. He frowned and cast a wandless tempus: 10:37. Harry blinked and summoned his wand and recast: 10:37.

That was strange, he never slept that late. Although, he supposed it explained why Draco was already up and out of bed, probably already out in his workshop working on whatever potion he'd been brewing the past week or so.

After a good stretch and pulling his hair up into a messy bun on top of his head, Harry made his way to the kitchen and over to the coffee pot. He frowned again when he found it empty and turned to head outside and make sure Draco was alright.

Before he'd gotten more than a few steps, his eyes caught on a piece of parchment and a familiar hawthorn wand laying on top of the island. "No," he whispered, heart freezing in his chest.

(Read more below the cut)

He picked up the letter off the island with a trembling hand and read

Dearest Harry, How can I even begin to tell you all that you mean to me? A less cowardly man than I would have found a way to say it to your face, but we both know that bravery is more your department. You've given me so much, Harry. I could never have imagined falling in love, never imagined that someone might love me in return. But that's why I had to do this, you see that don't you? Not because I don't love you but because I do. I love you with every fiber of my being, with all that I am, and you are mine, Harry. And I couldn't let you pay the price for my sins. I couldn't let you give up everything for me. Granger helped me draw up a contract with the Minister himself, you three certainly have a lot of friends in high places. In exchange for me, they're clearing you of all charges. Don't be angry with her; she just wants what is best for you, as well you must know by this point in your friendship. I know you're hurting right now, love. I know that this is breaking your big, perfect, beautiful heart; it's breaking the pathetic, shriveled excuse of a heart that I have, too. But it will pass, my darling, if you let it. So please, for me, let it go. Let me go. Be happy, be in love, live whatever life you want. Travel. Go to the States and do whatever muggle thing you wanted to do. You deserve the best life. Please know that I will spend the rest of my life grateful for you. And I will never forget the time when you were mine. You are, without exception, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Forever yours, Draco

Harry stared at the parchment in his hand, trailing trembling fingers over Draco's elegant script as his eyes blurred and his breathing came too fast. He clenched the letter to his chest, gasping against the ache of his heart expanding to accommodate the sadness and the sense of loss.

Without another thought he apparated straight into Ron and Hermione's kitchen.

"We thought you might show up at some point," Ron's voice said behind him.

Harry whipped around to see them both sitting at the table, "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Hermione sighed, "What he asked us to."

"Why?" he asked before the enormity of this situation hit him all over, the realization that he'd never see Draco again stealing the air from his lungs. He bent forward, putting his hands on his knees, "I can't breathe," he managed, trying to suck breath into his lungs and failing.

Ron was at his side in an instant, easing him onto the floor as Hermione appeared in front of him, "let your head drop between your knees. Focus on a slow inhale, slow exhale," she said and Harry tried to sync up his breathing with hers until his heart stopped racing.

He leaned his head back against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. "He's gone," he whispered. Then he opened his eyes and looked at them, "How could you let this happen?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, "Draco reached out to me the day after the trial. He said he couldn't trap you, couldn't force you to live a life on the run again."

"And that he couldn't bear the thought of you getting caught," Ron added.

"We wouldn't have gotten caught," he said derisively.

Hermione shook her head, "Maybe not but what about every other person in your life, Harry? You would have spent the rest of your life separated from them."

"We miss you, mate," Ron added.

He shook his head and swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes, "Then we could have figured something out. It had only been a week!" he protested. "Just one week, we could have-" he broke off and covered his mouth. After a heart beat, he stood up, "I can't be here right now. I can't-" he shook his head, "I can't do this."

"Harry-" Hermione started.

"He asked me not to be mad at you," he said, "but I'm-" he broke off, his hands trembling as he tried to open the door. "I need-" he tried again before simply giving up and walking out the door. He needed Draco.

"Harry!" Ron called behind him but he just kept walking.

He'd come back. He'd forgive them. He knew he would, he just needed a little time.

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However, leaving was actually a seemingly bad idea.

In the 30 minutes after he left the house, he learned that part of the "deal" that Draco had struck with Kingsley involved the Ministry being able to tell whatever lies they wanted to about Draco. Some papers claimed that it had been a love potion, some claimed it was a cursed object, some claimed he'd been imperiused.

Harry stood in front of a newsstand, seething as he read the headlines. How could they have let this happen? How could Draco have signed a contract that allowed for this?

And then he saw it: The Quibbler. Draco and Harry were on the front page, just like every other newspaper, but the article was titled, "From the Wrinkspurts: They're in Love". The world tilted, righting itself slightly as a plan started to form in the back of his mind.

He looked up at the man running the stand who'd been just staring at him, "I need one of everything," he said. "I don't have any money but I'll bring-"

"They're yours," the man interrupted, grabbing papers from all the different piles. He even tossed on one for gardening and one for cooking.

"Err," Harry, "Not those ones," he said, nudging the two irrelevant ones away. "Just the ones about me," he added, "At the risk of sounding self centered."

"Whatever you want, mate," the man said. "They're yours."

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing the stack of them and concentrating so he could apparate through the Ministry's wards because he simply didn't give a fuck anymore.

There was a sound vaguely like glass shattering as Harry popped up in front of the secretary's desk outside of Kingsley's office. She shrieked and a coffee cup went flying, breaking when it hit the ground.

"I'm here to see Kingsley," he said simply.

A hand fluttered up to cover her heart, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Potter, but he's in a meeting."

"Interrupt it," he said. "I guarantee what I have to say is more important."

"I can't just-"

"Look," Harry interrupted. "Just go and ask him. If he tells you to send me away, that's fine, I'll go."

She appeared to consider this for a moment, then she stood up and made her way to the door, knocking and slipping in.

A moment later she reappeared, "Would you mind waiting for just one moment?" she asked, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk. "He'll be right with you."

It was barely two minutes before three people came hurrying out of the room, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Kingsley followed, "Harry," he greeted, "Please come in."

Harry stood up and followed Kingsley in, not allowing himself to feel inferior because of the sweatpants and t-shirt he was still wearing.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Let Draco Malfoy go," he replied.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, "You know as well as I do that we're not going to do that. It's not possible."

"I thought you might say that," he replied as he started tossing magazines one by one onto the man's desk. "But you really ought to have told them all the same story."

"What?" the man asked with a laugh, "Why? Why should that matter?"

"Because it's going to make the Ministry look even more incompetent when I tell all of them the truth."

He shrugged, "It's of little concern, it won't matter."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Harry replied. "Because I'm not just going to tell them the truth about Draco Malfoy and his heinous treatment by Ministry officials prior to his trial. I am going to tell them everything and I'm going to watch the Ministry burn."

"Harry, be reasonable," he said. "So you tell everyone your story about finding Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries, garner a little sympathy because he was a teenager and now you're in love," he continued. "But it doesn't take much to drag his name through the mud again. To remind people that he tried to kill Dumbledore, to remind them of the cabinet that let death eaters into Hogwarts, to remind people of the lives that were lost because of him."

Harry's veins burned with rage and it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out.

Kingsley shook his head, "Do what you must, but your story will never be enough."

He let out a humorless chuckle and leaned forward, bracing his fist on the desk, "I got into the Department of Mysteries within a matter of months. Do you really believe that the only information I got was about Draco Malfoy?"

"You'll be prosecuted, if you disclose any information you obtained illegally" he replied steadily.

"I am Harry fucking Potter," he said with a growl. "If you try to prosecute me, you will have an uprising on your hands. Especially after everything I'm going to expose. So good luck with that, I'll enjoy watching this burn even faster," he said, gesturing to the space around them.

"Harry," he said, "You must know that what you're asking of me simply isn't possible," a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

The corner of Harry's mouth ticked up, "I'm going to win," he said. "And we both know it." He turned, leaving the magazines spread across his desk. "The only question is how much do you want to see burn before it happens." When he reached the door he called over his shoulder, "I'm holding a press conference tomorrow at six." He looked back at the other man, "You have until then to get him released."

On his way out he cast a patronus that he was sending to Azkaban with a simple message. I'm getting you out.

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Okay, friends. There will be at least one more part of this fic (maybe two) but this is getting too long. <3

Part 9 | Part 11