55Chapter 38: R 4: Imprisonment
Rape, part four: Imprisonment
Harry did not know how to react to it all. Too much was happening at once, and he could not fully grasp it. Timothy had obviously been channelling Joz's rage again and been real close to strangling him to death this time, and afraid for his husband's life, Draco had called Jonas, whom performed some sort of time magic and miraculously brought him back to life.
Then Draco dropped this bomb.
And as if that was not enough, Timothy claimed that it was impossible for them to have more children because Draco was supposed to have an accident that made him barren.
To top it all off, James was probably being taken to Azkaban this very minute.
"So … does that mean you're pregnant again?" he asked the blonde, whom was squirming nervously on the edge of the bed.
"Yes."
He would not meet Harry's eyes. Oddly enough, his shrunken posture made him look small and ashamed. As if he believed himself to have done something incredibly wrong.
Harry sighed and rubbed his exhausted eyes for a moment. "And when were you planning on telling me this?" he inquired, perfectly aware that he sounded angry and was probably only making things worse between them. Draco had (however indirectly) just saved his life; he should be thankful. But none of the epiphanies he had had during his near-to-death experience were great enough to erase his disappointment.
"I don't know." The blonde sounded so small and vulnerable he wanted to hug him.
"Okay … how long?"
"What?"
"How far along are you?"
"Thirteen weeks."
"Thirteen weeks and you didn't tell me?! That means you're past the abortion stage and you've already made the decision to keep it for both of us. You didn't think that maybe I would like to have a part in that decision, Draco?"
"I know you would, Harry. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you …"
Harry sat down beside the blonde and took him in his arms. Draco immediately pressed closer to him and buried his face in Harry's robes. "It's all right," Harry assured him soothingly. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just exhausted from everything that's happened tonight. But it surprises me that you felt you couldn't talk to me about this. Have I really been that lousy a husband lately that you can't even talk to me anymore?"
Draco patted his chest. "No, it's not that. Yeah, you've been kind of busy and absentminded, but not as much as you used to be. It's just … I wasn't even sure myself if I'd keep it, and I didn't want to get your hopes up in case …"
Harry silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. He did not need to say it.
A daughter. A daughter to make up for Joz? That must have been what had gone through Draco's mind when he found out, hence his hesitancy about keeping the baby. If they would only see this new daughter as a substitute for Joz and every hope, dream, and expectation they had once harboured for her … then how would they be able to love her for who she was?
Harry could more than well understand the blonde's ambivalence in the case.
Before them, Timothy sank down into a chair, suddenly too weak to stand. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. "It is not possible …" he was whispering to himself, slowly shaking his head.
Jonas knelt beside him and put one hand on his knee, using his other hand to gently stroke the side of his pale face. "Honey, are you all right?" he asked with concern.
For some reason Harry felt like hurling when Jonas called his son 'honey.' Especially when he thought about the 'real' Timothy of this time only being five years old …
Timothy did not look at him, but at least he registered his words. "I'm fine, babe, I'm good."
But he did not look fine. He was pale and dazed; weak.
"What did you mean, 'it's not possible?'" Harry asked when his curiosity did not allow him to shut up anymore.
For a while, the blond boy would not answer. But then he said, "The accident."
That seemed to be all he planned to say, and the hollowness and despair in his voice put a scowl on Harry's face. Just when he was about to question his son about this thin explanation and the thoughtless bluntness of his semi-accusation, the boy spoke anew, this time with his stunningly green eyes directed upon Draco. "You were supposed to be in an accident two months ago. That never happened?" he demanded with a fierceness that chilled Harry to the bone.
He wondered if Joz was indirectly threatening Draco's life now?
The blonde blinked. "Accident? No. I spilt coffee all over myself one morning, but that's all."
"Coffee?" Harry echoed disapprovingly.
"Before I found out I was pregnant," Draco assured him.
Timothy snorted and defiantly crossed his arms over his chest. "How touching that you two can argue about something as trivial as that when there are obviously more important things going on," he admonished irritably.
The green of his eyes seemed to pierce through them, and they shivered simultaneously. They knew of his powers, and neither of them would want to see them directed at one of them.
"So, basically, what you're saying is you never took Harry's broom and tried to fly to him in the middle of the night in the middle of a thunderstorm and fell off halfway?"
Draco raised both eyebrows in bafflement. "What? No! Do you think I'm stupid?" he accused incredulously. Then he pointed his finger at the boy. "And don't answer that!"
Timothy flinched as if he had been hit over the head. "No?" he breathed in a weak whisper. "Then … then I'm really doing it? I'm really changing the past!"
For some reason, that exclamation made Harry think of death and decay.
James glared back at the Auror that had just walked into the barren interrogation room with angry green eyes. He wished he had had his wand; then that bloody Ministry bastard would not have smirked so broadly. Since Fudge and his underlings had taken him away from Hogwarts, he had been treated like less than a Troll, and if he ever managed to get himself out of this mess, he would sure as Hell see to it that they paid for it!
The interrogator leant back in his chair, and it squeaked under his immense weight. His arms were defiantly and self-righteously crossed over his bulky chest. "So, tell me, Mr Potter, what were you doing to Helen Abbott?" he asked in a dry, smug voice.
James's eyes narrowed. "It's Potter-Malfoy," he corrected the bastard.
The Auror raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "Oh, is it really? My bad. Mr Potter-Malfoy, what did you do to Helen Abbott?"
James squirmed in his seat. He had a feeling it did not matter what he replied; he would still be found guilty and convicted to at least ten years in Azkaban. "Nothing," he muttered almost inaudibly.
The Auror leant in a bit closer to the table. "Sorry? What was that?"
You like torturing your suspects, don't you? James thought glumly, but said nothing of it. It would not be worth it. "Nothing," he therefore repeated, louder this time. He lowered his eyes and stared down at the table. Then he realised that that would be perceived as a sign of guilt in that pig's eyes and immediately lifted his gaze again.
"Nothing, eh?" the pig echoed. He was really getting on James's nerves, that one. "Then how come you were kneeling by that girl, all covered in her blood, trying your best to cave her chest in?"
"I wasn't trying to cave her chest in!" James objected hotly, almost lashing out at him over the table. "I was trying to tend to her wounds and make sure she was still alive and breathin'!"
The pig seemed utterly pleased at his outburst, as if that alone proved his guilt. "I see … Tell me, Mr Potter-Malfoy, are you aware that your DNA was found all over the girl, as well?"
"If that's the case, then it's probably because I tried to revive her when I thought she was dead," James muttered sourly. Then he lost his patience and kicked at the table leg. "Why are you even questioning me? You seem to have made up your mind already," he stated as an attempt to find out if indeed the Ministry had already decided upon his fate.
"Because it's necessary since your father is very famous amongst witches and wizards around the world," the pig informed him importantly. "They would not be satisfied if the Ministry hadn't taken the time to consider your 'story.'"
James started. He had not expected the Auror to be so blunt about it. So, they had practically convicted him already? That was not fair! And this interrogation was taking place merely because he happened to be Harry Potter's son. How touching. But he kept his face straight, intent on hiding his fear from this awful man.
"So there will probably be a mock investigation launched, as well?" he stated glumly.
"You are correct, boy, ten points for Slytherin!" the pig said, and laughed scornfully.
James hated him. He knew nothing of this man, but he hated him. To sustain him through that night of exhausting—and completely unnecessary—interrogations, he imagined thousands of ways he could have killed this pig had he only had access to his wand and his books on the Dark Arts.
He did not get any sleep that night.
The last residue of Joz's influence on Timothy wore off a few minutes later, and he went back to being his usual pleasant, but gloomy self. Now only determination shone in his eyes, and it was not hard to imagine what kind of decision he had made. "Well, what are we doing here?" he suddenly asked with a conspiratorial smile on his lips, and winked at his parents.
They both blinked at him.
"Excuse me?" Draco said. "You don't know what you're doing here all of a sudden?"
Jonas looked as puzzled.
Timothy laughed. "No, no, that's not what I meant," he assured them, and they could both exhale with relief. He had not gone mad from Joz's straining interventions. "I meant, what's going on here? Draco isn't supposed to visit you at Hogwarts, right? Is there some kind of celebration going on …?" He was clearly indicating the rose petals on the bed and the now burnt-out candles carefully set on every piece of furniture around the room.
Harry lowered his gaze and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "There was. But it was cut short." He met Draco's grey eyes. Then he turned to face Timothy anew. "James has just been taken away by the Ministry."
That piece of information seemed to shock the blond boy, not to mention confuse him. Wrinkles and creases once more found refuge on his young forehead, and all his previous merriment seemed to fade from his face in a matter of seconds. "What do you mean?"
Draco was sitting on the very edge of the bed, silently hugging himself and unconsciously stroking his belly every thirty seconds, while Harry recounted what they had witnessed in the Slytherin common room. To learn about the poor raped girl and how James had come to be wrongfully accused of the crime simply because he had an unusual hobby and too much time on his hands further troubled and confused their blond son.
When Harry finally fell silent almost twenty minutes later, Timothy shook his head slowly, but it was impossible to read the emotions hidden behind his suddenly cold eyes. "I believe him," he said after many minutes' silence.
Harry surprised himself by saying, "You do?" Up until then, he had been certain that he had expected those exact words from Timmy, but now he found that he had actually been sure that the boy would convict James, just like the Ministry already had.
Then something hit him. He sprang forward and grabbed the boy's hands with his. "Do you know who did it? You're a Time Manipulator, right? You ought to know these things."
The boy simply shook his head.
Hope faded from Harry's face. "But you're from the future, you should know—"
"No," he said sadly. "I don't know who raped that girl, because that never happened in my lifetime. Just like Draco's accident never happened here."
Harry blinked. He was suddenly becoming angry with the boy. He shook him. "But how is that possible? This is your past, and you're from our future! There has to be a connection!"
Timothy met his eyes, not thwarted by his harsh tone. Then he sighed and lowered his gaze in defeat. "It's not that easy, Harry," he protested, "and it would take me way too long to explain it to you. Maybe someday you will understand." He looked up again. "I am sure you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to tend to." He left without another word.
Jonas shrugged and went after him.
Draco decided to spend the night. He did not want to be alone, and neither did Harry. They held each other, silently staring up into the ceiling, neither of them able to sleep for the entire night. All they could do was think about their son, possibly already imprisoned in Azkaban, and at such a tender age. Harry did not want to think about it, but he did not know how to divert his thoughts either.
At seven in the morning, somebody knocked on the door to his office. He went up and pulled his dressing gown on and went to the door. He had expected a student, or maybe Professor Flitwick, whom sometimes fancied an early talk with Harry before strolling down to breakfast. But to his great bafflement, it was Snape. The last person Harry wished to see on such a morning.
"What do you want?" he said unpleasantly.
Snape raised one eyebrow in mock shock. "There, there, Potter … There's really no need to put your guard up so fiercely around me," he drawled scornfully, and then leant in closer to whisper something conspiratorially in Harry's ear. "I am not the enemy here, you know."
Harry refused to let him provoke him and ignored the mockery and the scorn. "What do you want?" he repeated impatiently. He heard rustling behind himself and figured that Draco had gone up to see what was going on.
Snape peered in over Harry's shoulder, and a self-satisfied expression very briefly crossed his sallow face. Then he turned his attention back to Harry, whom was still studying him with knitted eyebrows and wrinkled nose. "I am sorry to say this, Potter, but the Headmaster has decided to suspend you from your duties for the duration of the investigation," he informed in a formal voice.
"What investigation?" Harry queried and completely missed the first half of the sentence.
This time, Snape actually managed to look genuinely surprised. Good for him. "You mean you weren't informed? That is strange. Strange indeed." He shifted his feet. "The Minister for Magic has launched an immensely elaborate investigation that will determine whether your son James is guilty of the rape on Helen Abbott or not, and Dumbledore has decided that it is best if you do not teach here during that time. People might get the wrong idea."
Harry slammed the door in his face without the least bit of preceding warning. Then he stalked into his office and threw the dressing gown aside in pure wrath. "That backstabbing bastard!" he exclaimed in fury, and violently pulled his robes towards him. "That is it! I am resigning from the Order for the final time! I want no part in his devious schemes anymore, that's for sure!"
Draco came after him and helped him to dress. "You're doing the right thing," he told him. "This is best for everyone. He's been using you for years for his own purposes—whatever they may be. And you need to think of your family, what with this new baby coming and James's arrest and everything …"
Harry stopped abruptly in the middle of a movement and almost knocked Draco over. "Yeah, that's it!" he yelled triumphantly, a broad smile spreading on his lips.
The blonde frowned in lack of understanding. "That's what?" he wondered in bewilderment.
Harry swirled around to meet his eyes. "If I'm suspended from Hogwarts, that means I can use all my time and all my energy to find proof of James's innocence—and you can do it with me!" he said enthusiastically. He pulled the blonde into his arms and kissed him passionately. "You and I can be detectives together. What do you say?"
Draco chuckled obscenely. "Sounds sexy. Will we have to wear trench coats?"
"Absolutely!" Harry conceded.
"Then I'm all for it," Draco said, and pressed his lips to Harry's.
They went home shortly after dressing, because neither of them could stand Hogwarts and its inhabitants anymore. All Harry's colleagues regarded him with a reserved suspicion that indicated that they believed him to somehow be a part of James's supposed crime, and the students practically screamed and ran when they saw him. Never before had he been rewarded that reaction.
Hardly an hour after their returning home, an owl arrived with news that evoked mixed feelings in them both. Joz was dead. The Healers that cared for her at St Mungo's had found her dead when they had brought her breakfast at the usual time and concluded that she had died quietly in her sleep since there were no signs of foul play or disease.
Almost instantly thereafter, another owl arrived with more bad news.
James had disappeared from his cell in Azkaban.