Harry had become accustomed to being the last one awake. He expected it these days. He almost liked it really. It reminded him; When he lay awake listening to the house breathing, to the owls twittering, to the occasional car driving past Grimauld Place below, that they had survived it all. And at any rate, it was preferable to sleeping. He hadn't told the others about the nightmares. He didn't want to bother them about it and at any rate, it was silly wasn't it? It was all over. And he'd come out of the whole thing relatively unscathed. He hadn't been tortured like Hermione, or lost a brother like Ron. He hadn't been tormented by the Carrows like Ginny and Neville, or held captive like Luna in the Malfoy's basement. They weren't having nightmares. Or at the very least, if they were they weren't telling him about it. They seemed to be doing great. The thing was, he wasn't having nightmares about what had happened, but what could have happened. His dreams were filled with the red cat like eyes of a triumphant Lord Voldemort, glittering and gloating. But why when it hadn't happened and they were all safe?

Harry sighed heavily and took off his glasses, rubbing at his dulled green eyes. If he was awake he may as well make use of the time. Tomorrow was the Malfoy trial and he had been asked, and agreed, to testify on their behalf. He was doing it purely, he told himself, for Narcissa. Not for Draco or his Father. She had saved his life thereby basically saving the war. Testifying was the least he could do to thank her for that. He felt like he owed her. He'd spoken to her a few of times since then, once to thank her properly, once when she had asked him to testify, and then a third time to clarify with her details and proceedings for the trial and what he could and couldn't say. He'd come to the conclusion that she was not in fact, evil.

"Well of course she isn't," Hermione had said, rolling her eyes and using an exasperated tone she seemed to save for Harry and Ron when she felt they were being particularly obtuse. "Most people aren't as simple as a good guy or a bad guy out of a cartoon Harry." Ron had simply snorted and called the Malfoys something that had made Hermione use his full name and smack him with the book she was reading. Harry had agreed with her about Narcissa, though he wasn't convinced about father and son. As far as he was concerned, they were both snakes through and through and he had said as much whilst Ron grumbled his agreement, rubbing the back of his head.

But still he would testify. He wondered if there was a way he could get Draco and Lucius locked up but not Narcissa. Immediately however the older woman's sad pleading blue eyes filled his head and he pushed the thought aside. It had been odd, seeing the woman who had once been the very definition of pride, who had insulted the three of them in Madame Malkin's with the arrogant sneer if a woman who felt she was at the top of the food chain, so utterly defeated. So he picked up their file and started reading it for what felt like the one hundredth time. He knew all the details by now. Hell he could almost recite it word for word. But it was something to do, something to keep him preoccupied. So why not?

"Harry!" The sound of Hermione's voice, accompanied by the sharp jerk of his shoulder woke him with a start.

"Wha…?" He hadn't even finished his half formed sentence before she was snatching the file from his lap.

"Harry you've got half an hour before you need to be there come on!" she barked at him, ushering him out of the seat he'd passed out in and towards the stairs. And the bathroom.

The hot water hitting his face pulled him back to life and soon he was dressed and running back down the stairs, Hermione throwing some toast into his hands as they left the house, giving him a very Mrs Weasley-esque glare.

"You're still not sleeping are you?" she asked, and Harry crammed toast into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to reply.

"Leave out of it Mione. If he doesn't wanna talk about it don't make him," Ron said. Harry gave him a grateful look and Hermione just huffed, grabbing both their hands and vanished with a loud 'crack'!

They appeared in a little side alley, Harry's undigested breakfast lurching in his stomach.

"Jesse Hermione you could have at least let me brace myself," he muttered. She didn't have time to make a retort as Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by a couple of the old Order members appeared next to them.

"Ready to face the masses?" he smirked, a glitter in his eye, a hint of amusement in his booming voice as he spoke. 'No' Harry thought, but he nodded pushing his glasses back up his nose, swallowing the rest of his toast and brushing the crumbs from his shirt. He'd been dreading this bit. He hated it. Everything about it. He'd hated it before but he really hated it now. Swallowing, he readied himself and followed Kingsley as they stepped off the street and into the odd little toilet cubicle, flushing themselves into the ministry.

Harry had hardly had time to steady himself as he landed when a bright flash dazzled him. He was surrounded by clicking and flashes and voices, all garbled together so that he couldn't make out one word from the next. Kingsley stepped in front of them, the other Order members around them as they fought their way through the crowd of paparazzi that has flocked to the ministry entrance, all flapping and squawking at them in an attempt to get a quote or a photograph. Harry tried his hardest to keep his eyes fixed ahead of him, focussing on Kingsley's back as they walked. He was aware of Hermione's hand slipping into his, her's holding Ron's as the three of them stuck to each other's sides, being guided through the mass of bodies towards the lifts.

They were all silent as the lift descended, the rattling of the grate filling Harry's brain as he fought the urge to yawn. His eyes were stinging and he wondered vaguely if he was going to be able to stay awake during this or not. At the very lease, he'd try not to snore. He was snapped out of his thoughts as they lift pulled to the right, almost falling into Hermione before the doors opened and they were once again ushered out, greeted by the members of the paparazzi that had managed to make their way down here to the chagrin of the security staff. It wasn't supposed to be broadcast, though Harry was fairly sure that even those who had got this far wouldn't be able to get into the actual court room. Not now that Rita Skeeter's little fly on the wall trick had been exposed.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron mumble as they walked into the court room. Harry of course had seen it all before. The wooden benches, the chained chairs, the way that the candles stretched and warped the shadows on the wall to make them look like wailing malformed ghosts. He'd seen it both in real life, and in the pensive. But Ron and Hermione looked horrified.

"Come on," Harry said, guiding them to the spot on the front bench that Mafalda Hopkirk had saved for them as Kingsley took his seat in the Ministers box. The court room was filled with muttering, scowls on faces, people looking terse, and unamused. Clearly most of them didn't think this was even necessary. Why weren't they simply being rounded up and locked away like the other Death Eaters? Harry could feel them staring at him, murmuring, whispers filtering into his ears.

"Potter wanted it."

"Apparently he thinks they should be spared."

"But why?"

"Wonder if the war boggled his brain."

"Stupid idea."

"Waist of time."

Harry sighed, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. Gods he hoped this was going to be over quickly. The hall stilled, a thick blanket of quiet settling over them and a collective shiver rippled through their robes. Harry looked up to see the Malfoys, all three of them, escorted in by aurors. They'd done away with the dementors since the war. They could no longer be trusted. Harry felt his throat tighten as he watched them all sit. They looked terrible. Worse than when he had last seen them. Narcissa had dark circles under her eyes, like bruises on her pale skin, and Lucius was unshaven, eyes red and pouchy. But it was Draco's appearance that shocked him most. His pale skin was grey, his face thin and pinched, like he had been forgetting to eat. He looked almost hollow, his eyes dull as they fixed on his shoes, flinching wider as the chains snaked around his wrists with a deafening clattering clanking that filled the silence. His closed his eyes, his chest heaving slowly, forcibly slow Harry through. He looked like a boy, a boy on the edge of crying, not a man. And certainly not a death eater.

Kingsley cleared this throat and suddenly all eyes were on him. He stood, nothing like Fudge. There was no forced air of formality and politeness about him. It was as though the war had drained so much energy from everyone, that they all simply couldn't be bothered with the old formalities and procedures.

"You all know why you're here," he said, looking around at them all, the jurors and the Malfoys alike. "This, is not a normal trial. We are not trying to decide the guilt of these three. Their associations with He Who Shall Not Be Named and his Death Eaters are clear to all." There was some muttering at this, but one stern look from Kingsley at the offending parties quieted them again. "We are here," he stated, looking back up, directing his cool gaze to the Malfoys this time. "To decide if that guilt, can be not forgotten, but forgiven, in light of the brave actions of one," Narcissa's terrified eyes momentarily flickered towards Harry. " And the change in alliance of the others, last minute as it may be, warrants forgiveness." More muttering. More staring. Harry watched as Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the chains clinking a little. Was he imagining it, or had the noise made him flinch?

The trial was a lengthy process. But then again, Harry had known it would be. He'd been through it himself. Narcissa's part went quickly. She didn't bare the mark. She was dragged into it. She'd saved Harry's life. He hadn't expected there to be much of a problem about that and there wasn't for the most part. Some disapproving muttering yes. But seeing as they were going on the legality of the issue, they could hate her as much as they wanted. That didn't mean they had grounds to lock her up and throw away the key. Draco, there was a little more trouble with. He'd taken the mark. Harry had always assumed that he had done so willingly, with pride, trying to be like his Father.

"He threatened to kill my parents." Draco's voice was quiet, horse, as though he was no longer used to using it, echoing around the hall in a shivering whisper. His words made Harry's blood run cold. The blonde kept his eyes on his hands as he talked, flickering up only for a moment to look at his mother. She gave him the smallest nod, and he looked back down, taking it as a queue to continue, like the little movement gave him permission to carry on. "He tortured my mother after Father was taken to Azkaban. Made me watch. Then told me if I didn't take up his mark and his mission he'd kill her." That was all he had to say. The muttering had stopped now, Everyone was silent, watching him. Some of the jury members were their old teachers. Harry saw the way McGonagall's back stiffened, her gaze dark, mournful. He knew if anyone had disliked Malfoy as much as he did, it was she. But even the stern Scottish witch looked horrors struck at his broken words. With that he was dismissed, and Lucius was brought to the stands. Lucius had less to offer them. Harry tuned out as he rattled off a list of names, some of them ones he knew, some of them he didn't. Draco's words seemed to echo around his brain, and Harry found his eyes dragged back to the blond boy, his head hanging, staring at his hands. He looked nothing like the boy Harry had known from school. He hardly recognised him. Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"We shall now hear from Mr Potter himself," Kingsley said, making Harry's eyes snap up. He swallowed, looking around at the faces staring at him. Standing, Harry tugged a little at his jacket before giving an awkward cough to clear his throat. He wasn't sure how to start. He'd been going over and over what he was going to say in his head but now that he was standing there he felt like his tongue had gone dry and he wasn't sure if he was even capable of forming words. He gave another awkward cough, the rustling of paper filling the hall.

"Uh, Hi," Harry said, tugging again at his jacket before adjusting his glasses. "I have to admit Mal-Draco… and I have never really… got on…" he said. This earnt a snort from Ron, and a small smirk from McGonagall. "Thing is though, it's kind of hard to hate the son of the woman who literally saved your life." He had their attention now. Even Draco had looked up at him, grey eyes watching him with a curious expression. Had Narcissa not told him about it all? "See, when Voldemort sent that killing curse at me, it hit me. Pretty damn squarely. But for some reason I survived it. And when I came to, he sent Mrs Malfoy to check if I was actually dead." He looked at her, meeting her blue eyes, gratitude meeting gratitude in their gazes. "Ignoring the fact that Voldemort was a practiced Legilimense and I'm not even sure how she managed to lie to him and fool him" he continued "it takes a lot of bravery, to risk her own life doing that. She risked her own, and saved mine. And if she hadn't, I'm not exactly sure where we would be right now." He looked up around the hall. "This woman's bravery, this woman's change in sides, whether that was for us or simply so that she could find and protect her son, won the war. If that doesn't earn forgiveness, nothing does." He pushed a hand through his hair awkwardly, looking around at the silent crowd. He could feel their eyes on him blue and grey. He looked briefly at them both, catching the soft glitter of the tear on Narcissa's cheek. "That's.. Uh… that's it." He moved to sit down, Kingsley taking his place again. He took a minute to arrange the papers on the lectern, looking up around the crowd.

"You've heard all you need to," he said, his voice deep, the gravity of the matter weighing heavily on each word. "It's time to vote." Draco swallowed, eyes wide. Narcissa's hands balled into fists. Lucius remained, bleary eyes and still. "All those in favour of forgiveness, please raise a hand." For a few terrifying seconds, Harry though no one would raise their hand. Slowly however, hands started going up. First Hermione and McGonagall. Then others followed, until finally even Ron raised his hand.

"We have a clear majority," Kingsley said. "The Malfoys shall go free."