"Draco..." From the tone of his father's voice, Harry knew to brace himself.
And yet it was the headmaster who finished the sentence, who rose to his feet and came into Draco's field of vision to say, his eyes intent on the boy all the while, "Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid we must tell you that Miss Parkinson was found dead at the foot of the Owlery tower just a short while ago."
Draco's eyes went huge in his face, the tendons in his throat distending as he swallowed several times in succession. "D-- d-- dead?" he stammered, shock etched across his every feature, his hands practically shredding the coverlet, he was grasping it with such force.
Draco, who couldn't lie well unless he was being led...
If they hadn't reasoned it out before, Harry would have known the truth then: Draco was innocent.
Questions remained, of course. The map. The wards. The hex. The Somulus.
But Draco hadn't killed Pansy; he hadn't even been conscious when the Slytherin girl had died. That was the most important thing. The rest could be sorted out later.
Harry went to sit on the bed, and said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, "We don't know much, Draco, but yes, Pansy died. She either fell from the Owlery or she was pushed."
"The Owlery? The Owlery like you dreamed about, that Owlery?"
Harry winced a bit, but nodded.
Draco's eyes were wet as they searched out Snape's face. "But... the wards, the protections... Things like that don't happen at Hogwarts--" Harry saw his throat distend as he gulped, "It's not true. It can't be. That dream of his was bloody ridiculous--"
"It was prescient, and I should have known as much." Snape swore under his breath. "I was so obstinate, so certain of my own powers of deduction!"
The Slytherin boy went positively grey. "You knew? You and Harry both thought I was fated to get thrown from a tower and you didn't tell me, didn't warn me?"
"I did warn you, Draco!"
"Oh sure, Potter, when I wanted to leave and was just about guaranteed to not believe you!"
"The entire problem," Snape pointed out, running his hand haphazardly through his lank hair, "was that we didn't think it was fated. As indeed it was not, as we misunderstood everything. Harry's dream was true, but it was about you being accused of murder, not a victim of it."
Listening to that, Harry was eerily reminded of the prophecy that ruled his life.
Gasping, Draco suddenly reached out and clutched the Potions Master's hand. "True," he whispered, almost fearfully. "True... oh sweet Merlin, then it was a seer dream, just as Harry tried to tell me. That means it's true, the other part as well! Lucius... it seems incredible, but he's been helping French Muggleborns escape the Dark Lord!" Draco's silver eyes went slightly wild as he babbled, "He probably can't do it here, too much danger he'd be recognised, but he must want to escape that madman like I did, don't you think?"
Albus Dumbledore took a step back as Snape shook his head. "Don't do this to yourself, Draco," the Potions Master implored. "I cannot explain that part of Harry's dream, but you know as well as I do that Lucius would not defy Voldemort by attempting to rescue those already marked for death--"
"You did," Draco breathed, his gaze skittering to Harry and back. "You saw his shite for what it was!" Then, with a deep sigh, the boy was admitting, "But he's a far cry from being you. I know that, Severus. After all, if he really was reformed, he'd want me to stay here where I'm safe instead of constantly trying to get his damned friends on the Board to expel me."
With that, Draco seemed to recall that the headmaster was with them. His gaze, not so much wild as panicked, sought out Albus. "Accused, that's what Severus said, and that's why you're here, isn't it? I'm expelled already? No, wait, the Board wouldn't have had any chance to meet yet, would they? Unless... is it still Friday? No, wait, you said 'a short while ago' so I suppose it must be." Draco paused and heaved in a breath, looking as though he was aware he'd better get in control of his mouth. "Sir... I have a right to speak to them before they kick me out, don't I?"
"You do," Albus murmured, his wizened gaze firmly fixed on Draco's eyes. Legilimency, Harry felt sure. "As things stand, however, your father has not yet called a meeting. Nor will he, I feel certain, until news of the death has become public."
"My father's right here," Draco crossly erupted. "And I wish to Hades I had his blood in my veins instead of Lucius' swill! Maybe then, I might stand a chance of not being expelled! As far as being accused goes, though, Severus is not going to stand idly by while you turn me over to the Aurors, he just isn't!"
"The Aurors don't even know yet," Harry assured his brother.
"They will know soon, however," Albus corrected, "and they will need to speak with you."
"Why, for fuck's sake? I wasn't even bloody awake when it happened!"
"Language," Snape reproved, which Harry thought a trifle silly under the circumstances. Perhaps, however, the Potions Master thought it best if the headmaster perceived Draco as respectful rather than the opposite.
"Tell us about this state of non-consciousness," Albus broke in to prompt.
"Well, seeing as I was knocked out cold the entire time," Draco exclaimed, "I don't know what I could possibly have to say!"
"I think they're trying to find out if you were hit with Imperius," Harry murmured.
"Oh, that's just bloody wonderful," the Slytherin boy snarled. "Another Malfoy excusing his crimes by means of Imperius. I don't think the Wizengamot will buy that a second time around, especially seeing as I don't have the political pull of a Lucius Malfoy! Why don't we just skip the fucking trial and send me straight to Azkaban?"
"Show some decorum in front of the headmaster!"
That brought Draco up short, though he muttered, "I just... I apologise, Professor Dumbledore. I just don't much like the idea of Imperius."
"With your family history, I should imagine not," Albus replied in a soothing tone.
Draco rolled his eyes but didn't bother saying my family's here. Maybe he was trying to be respectful, as Snape had said. Or maybe it was tactics, Harry thought. He'd realised that arguing with the headmaster wasn't the best possible strategy.
"There was no Imperius," Snape asserted. "We can treat that as a certainty, now."
"Yeah, Draco seems to be thinking all right," Harry agreed. "I don't think his brain's been... ah, damaged."
Draco looked from father to son and back, shuddering. "You... you thought I was going to wake up a mental incompetent, or something?"
"We worried," Snape briskly corrected.
Harry gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I even thought you might, um... have amnesia, forget Samhain, something like that. Go back to hating me and wanting me dead, I mean."
"Dead," Draco blankly repeated, his eyes seeming to go into shadows, almost looking sunken. "I... look, my brain's all right, I can think, but I can't seem to think my way around it. With... um, Pansy, that is. Are you sure there hasn't been some mistake? Pansy can't be d- d- dead; she was just with me! She was so warm..."