Fall.

Chapter 2 - Harry Potter

Privet drive was overrun with weeds. If aunt petunia saw this - she'd be furious. Harry smiled at the thought and how once, her anger seemed to be the thing that terrified him most.  Now, he didn't know how to put a label on his fear. Someday's it was sleeping, because the nightmares tore him into pieces. Someday's it was random strangers, who could be death eaters, out to get him and his friends. Someday's it was his own friends. Watching Hermione stare at her parents picture not able to contact them. Or Ron crying silently when he thought harry was asleep. Or just looking at Ginny.

Most days though, it was himself.

Every time he caught his reflection in the mirror- he thought his eyes were Voldemorts eyes. Red. And then he was covered in blood. Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Dobby, Snape - He'd killed them all.

Harry almost threw up.

 He had been banned from helping rebuild the castle because he kept having panic attacks. Professor McGonagall had found him passed out in the room of requirement. Apparently he'd been out cold for 4 hours. He was staying at the Leaky Cauldron for now. He'd tried to stay at the burrow for a while but he couldn't bear to be around them when he felt like he was the reason for Fred-

Every time he looked at the Weasley's clock, he wanted to close his eyes and disappear. Thankfully Mrs. Weasley hadn't objected much when he said he'd go stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Perhaps she too felt that he had overstayed his welcome.

After a week of being locked up in his room doing nothing- The Malfoy's owl had given him a thorough awakening. Mrs. Malfoy had written to him asking him to testify at the git, Draco's hearing last week. He had agreed because if he was being honest - he owed Malfoy his life for not saying it was him when they had broken into the manor. And then Mrs. Malfoy for lying to Voldemort in the forest. The irony - That he owed his life to the Malfoy's, when they were the quarters for Voldemorts stay.

He laughed.

'I'm really loosing my mind.' He thought to himself. He'd left his room in the morning after he received Mrs. Malfoy's owl (informing him that the hearing had been scheduled at 7 Pm,) for a walk. Somehow He'd ended up at Privet Drive.  'Who holds a hearing so late?'  He wondered, kicking a few stones from his path. He opened the door with his wand. The house was preserved just the way they had left it - probably Lupin's doing. He opened the door to his cupboard, it was littered with cobwebs. It was funny how the place he used to dread was the most peaceful place now.

Everything about this day was funny- testifying for the Malfoys, private drive, ignoring Ginny's letters.

Ginny had been writing to him daily but harry hadn't even bothered to reply to her. He knew he didn't love her anymore - he didn't even know if he ever loved her or it was the fact that he could die anytime making him want any kind of affection. He knew he was hurting her but he just hated lying to her and she looked t him with so much hope it made him sick. He knew he had to break it off but he was looking for the right time. He also knew that was a bullshit excuse but he was done being golden boy.

He'd almost dozed of and woke up to a spider crawling on his nose. He smacked it off and with it fell his glasses. He cursed picking them up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He checked his watch. 7:17 . Well Fuck. 

He stood up dusting himself and hit his head on the bottom of the stairs. "Ouch Fuck"
Mrs. Malfoy had told him to be dressed well. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. 'Mrs. Malfoy' asking him 'to dress well'. Jesus. He was loosing his mind. He tried to wipe away the dust with a little water but it just made it worse. "Fuck. The one time i try to dress- it fucks up" he yelled to the empty house. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and dark jeans- the only clean clothes he had since he moved out of the burrow. 
'Oh well,' he shrugged and apparated right to in front of the Wizengamot Hall. 
Mrs. Malfoy was standing at the side, arms crossed. "Mr. potter. You are late." She eyed him head to toe and wrinkled her nose at his shirt. With a flick of her wand his shirt was clean again. "Come on Mr. Potter, you have kept us waiting long enough." She said and then walked into the hall while he passively followed behind her.
Even though her husband was imprisoned and her son was on trial and the whole family was being subject to hate- she still carried herself like a queen. Head back, shoulders straight, chin forward- she emanated regalness. She reminded him somewhat of Professor McGonagall. 

The hall was filled with impatient chatter. As soon as he entered everyone fell silent. "Would you look at that-" Mrs. Malfoy muttered. He could hear the smirk in her voice. He sat down next to her and looked around the room. Everyone looked tired and irritated; even Kingsley Shacklebolt, the minister- looked like he couldn't be bothered. "why would they hold the trial so late?" he whispered to Mrs. Malfoy as Kingsley called them all to order and was reciting some rules.
"They hold late trials when they are certain the suspect will go to azkaban. They come in not wanting to listen to anything and tired. And when you're tired- the easiest decision is the fastest one- to charge with guilt." 
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. 
"Also gives the suspect more time in azkaban." she whispered, her voice catching.
"Wait what? Draco was in azkaban? He hasn't been sentenced!"
"Yes he hasn't. but he'd been detained there. they would be apparating him here any second now. " She said her eyes trained on the doors through which they would bring him in. 
As if on cue, Kingsley announced "Bring in the accused, Draco Malfoy, his crimes stated as being a death eater, attempted murder of Albus Dumbeldore, letting in death eaters into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Malfoy?"  

Draco had been head looking down smoothing his robes. He looked up ad threw his head back and barked out a mirthless laugh. Harry lost his breath.
Draco's hair was completely disheveled and muddy, and no matter how much he tried to smooth them down, his robes were a mess, there were scratches at his neck- tiny beads of dried blood glittering int the lighting. Harry had memorized Draco's grey eyes down to the glittering silver specks in them but at the moment - they were dark storm clouds - almost black.
If Draco hadn't laughed Harry would think he was dead.
He was a Malfoy in his posture - lounging carelessly. But harry had never heard him sound this broken. Not even in their sixth year when he had been sobbing in the bathroom. 

Draco grinned at Kingsley, it gave harry goosebumps. 

"Guilty as charged minister."