A/N Hello! For all of you who have read Memory Lane this story is a sort of companion to it. Someone told me that the Draco/Evelina part could be a story in itself so I've devided to write it! You don't have to have read Memory Lane for this to make sense but if you chose to, beware of spoilers! Anyway, enjoy the first chapter and if you have the time please leave a review :)

The owl arrived on a Saturday, exactly three weeks after the defeat of Voldemort. The celebrations had finally started to settle down and the Wizarding world was beginning to be put back together again. Countless funerals had been held, endless parties thrown resulting in suspicions being raised amongst the Muggles once more and now the official business was being handled. This included sending the screech owl that summoned three Malfoy's to the ministry.

Draco sat at the end of his mahogany four-poster bed, where he had spent the majority of the last three weeks, and read the letter once more.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

This letter hereby summons you to attend a meeting at the Ministry for Magic where you will be trialled for your involvement in the Dark Arts prior to and throughout the recent war. Please present yourself at:

Wizengamot Courtrooms
Level Ten
Ministry for Magic headquarters

on Monday 18th May at nine am. Failure to attend will result in your immediate arrest.

Regards,

Oberon Wittleforth,
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

The formal-looking black owl had delivered three of these letters; the other two had been addressed to Draco's parents, who were to attend the same trial. He was not surprised at their arrival; there had been an article in the Prophet that the Ministry would be contacting anyone who was thought to have been on Voldemort's side and he knew as soon as he read it that it applied to him and his family. The knowledge had not stopped him from feeling sick to the core at the possibility of being sent to Azkaban though. The only slither of a silver-lining being that the Dementors had been banished (where to Draco neither knew nor cared), and wizard guards had replaced them. Still, Draco would do anything not to be sent there.

Now that the Dark Lord was gone, Draco could see what a fool he had been to support him. Two years ago, he was nothing more than a fool; a child with an ego that needed satisfying and a father who had provided him with the opportunity to do so.

After being branded with the Dark Mark in the summer holidays before sixth year, he would pull up his sleeve every moment he was alone and marvel at the twisted serpent, knowing that it meant he was every bit as powerful as his father, as trained and qualified wizards at the tender age of fifteen. He longed for September first when he could brag to his friends and make them idolise him more than they already did. His childish dreams had been ruined when he was summoned by Voldemort and assigned the seemingly impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore under the threat of his parents' lives. No longer did he want to brag and he began to avert his gaze from the black mark on his forearm.

The deeper he had fallen into the Dark Arts, the more he wanted to claw his way out of the merciless grasp Voldemort had over him. His attempts to take Dumbledore's life we barely thought out and each minute he spent in the room with the vanishing cabinet, he prayed it couldn't be fixed as much as he prayed it could be, if only for the sake of his parents. He knew when his moment arrived that the two words would never come and when Dumbledore had offered him a way out it was though a fire had been lit in his chest. Hope had arrived and was stamped out just as quickly, Severus had completed the task Draco was given and the chance to escape the life he no longer wanted was gone.

Still it had not been enough, he was still forced to watch people die, die for their blood status and die for fighting on the side of good. The only thing he was thankful for then was that his parents were still alive; he was not alone in Hell.

Then along came Harry Potter.

Draco recognised the three young adults that were dragged ruthlessly into his home the second he saw them. There was no mistaking Weasley's trademark ginger hair and Granger's wild mane. Potter had been hit with a stinging hex but even that didn't stop him recognising a face he had spent seven years hating. They were the only thing stopping the side he was fighting for from winning, one word of confirmation from Draco and that would have been it: war over, or so Voldemort thought. As long as people thought Harry was alive they would carry on resisting. One word was all it would have taken and once again, Draco could not bring himself to say the right thing. That was the moment that he knew which side he wanted to win. Though it was not the side he would fight for because switching sides would result in the death of his parents.

But Potter had won nonetheless and Draco was to be punished for his crimes.

Since the defeat of Voldemort, Draco had barely spoken to his parents and had avoided all contact with the outside world. His father had taken to locking himself away in the library, only coming out to take another bottle of mead from the pantry. His mother had begged and pleaded with him to come out, to stop drinking and to talk to her but he would simply slam the door in her face with a lazy flick of his wand.

After a week of that, she had given up and sought out her son instead. Draco had jumped at the gentle knock on the door and called out for his mother to enter. That was when she told him what happened in the Forbidden Forest when Voldemort killed Harry. Draco, in turn, confessed the lie he had told the night Potter was brought to their home and a mutual understanding passed between mother and son. Neither had wanted the dark side to triumph.

The day of the trial arrived and Draco had been up for several hours. Sleep had evaded him the night before and it was reflected in the dark shadows under his eyes that contrasted with his paler-than-usual skin. He fastened the plain silver square cufflinks on his shirt and smoothed down creases that couldn't be seen as he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. Sighing heavily he headed out of the room and took one last look around it before closing the door behind him, who knew when he would see his childhood bedroom again?

His mother was waiting for him in the dining room, dressed impeccably in a black skirt suit and clutching a dragon-skin handbag. Her expression was composed as always but Draco knew from the way she tapped her toe on the wood floor beneath her that she was nervous. He approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture and she gave him a small smile in return before glancing over her shoulder at the doorway that led to the library. Draco followed her line of sight, wondering if his father would come with them to the ministry or be taken by force later today by a team of Aurors.

It seemed that the latter would not be happening, for moments later the door opened and Lucius Malfoy staggered out, clutching an almost empty glass bottle. He was a shadow of the man he once was; his hair lank and greasy, filthy robes that he had been wearing for weeks hung off his skeletal figure that was a result of his liquid diet, and his eyes were grey and lifeless.

Draco's hand twitched towards the wand that was in his pocket, tempted to cast a cleaning spell over his father to make him at least look presentable, but the desire to give the world a good impression was simply an old habit and it didn't take long for Draco to realise he did not care for other people's opinions, nor for the mess of a man that stood before him and so his wand remained in its place.

"Lucius…" Narcissa whispered.

He looked at his wife but said nothing, he merely grunted in acknowledgement.

"Come on, Mother," Draco said, "we'd better be going."

He picked up the heavy marble pot that was a Malfoy family heirloom and pulled out a handful of green floo powder before passing it to Narcissa who in turn handed it to her husband, earning her another grunt. Draco threw the powder into the flames and called out "Ministry of Magic!" and was squeezed through the floo network, stepping gracefully out at his destination.

He watched the Ministry workers in envy as they rushed to and fro, occasionally stopping to chat to one another before hurrying off again. They were sure of how their days would go; they would work, have lunch, work some more and go home, maybe to a partners and children, have their dinner and go to bed before getting up and doing it all again the next day. Draco desperately wished for such mundane things like a job and a family. How long would he have to spend in Azkaban should they chose to send him there? Would he still be able to start a family when he got out? Would anyone even want him after he was convicted for being a Death Eater?

He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, there was still a chance; albeit a small chance, that he would be free to go. What then? One thing was for sure, he did not want to live under the same roof as his father if he did go free. He would get as far away from him as possible.

The family slowly made their way to the lift and pressed the button that bore the number nine. Draco scowled at the cheery voice that announced each new level of the building, he knew it was a ridiculous annoyance but no-one should sound that happy when today was such a difficult day for him. They stepped out when the woman finally announced 'Level nine: Department of Mysteries' and descended the sparsely lit stairs that led to the Wizengamot courtrooms.

A Ministry official wearing the purple robes of the magical court greeted them outside the door. She was short and squat with no real distinguishable features. Draco didn't catch her name and did not care to know it, she played a part in the impending decision regarding his fate and would probably send him to Azkaban: pleasantries would not be shared with her.

They entered the large room and Draco felt as though he had stepped into a fishbowl. It was perfectly circular and the ceiling was much higher than strictly necessary. Along one side there were rows of raised benches, each seat occupied. There were a dozen or so witches and wizards wearing the same set of robes as the woman who greeted them and a man in the centre at the front whose robes were the same shade of purple but were grander and lined with gold; Draco presumed he was the man with the ridiculous name who had sent the letter summoning him. They began whispering amongst themselves as soon as the three Malfoy's entered. At the other side of the room there were three wooden chairs with high backs and cuffs built into the arm rests, he tensed a little at the sight, surely they wouldn't lock them into the chairs?

They were guided to the seats and Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down and the cuffs stayed open leaving his arms free. He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he waited for the witch to sit down and the trial to begin.

The Chief Warlock stood up and the quiet murmuring stopped, all eyes were now on Draco and his parents.

"You are Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, correct?"

"Yes," replied Draco and his mother. Lucius jerked his head in a small nod.

"You understand that you have been summoned by myself; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the witches and wizards of the court on suspicion of Death Eater activity?"

They confirmed.

"Do you deny the charges?"

There was a pause before the three shook their heads.

"And you understand that, should the court find you guilty on this day, Monday May eighteenth, you will be sent directly to the wizard prison Azkaban for the time deemed necessary?"

Again, they confirmed.

"The court would like to call in the first witness," he said nodding to a guard standing by a door Draco hadn't noticed.

He froze a little at the mention of a witness, he wasn't aware there would be any. Surely anyone they brought in wouldn't have anything to say that would help their case. To his utter surprise, a familiar black-haired figured entered and sat in a chair that was conjured into the middle of the room. Draco shrank a little in his chair, if this was the witness then he had no hope of escaping imprisonment in Azkaban.

"You are Harry James Potter of number twelve Grimmauld Place?" the Chief Warlock asked.

"Yes, well, I'm not actually living there at the moment, I'm living at The Burrow but-" Harry rambled.

"You own number twelve Grimmauld Place, do you not?"

"Well, yes, technically."

"Thank you. You understand you are here to give evidence towards the case of the Malfoy family and their involvement in the Dark Arts?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Can you relay to the court the information you gave to the Minister for Magic last week regarding Draco Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy please."

Harry took a deep breath and began to speak. To Draco's complete shock and amazement, he began to tell the court of the night at Malfoy Manor after he was caught by the snatchers, he paused when he came to the part about Bellatrix asking Draco if he recognised the trio.

"And what did Mister Malfoy say?" prompted one of the witches to the left of the Chief.

"He said he didn't know if it was me."

"Did you believe him?"

"I…no. No, I didn't. My face was hexed; Hermione hit me with a stinging jinx to make it swell. It was enough for the snatchers to be unsure of who I was but anyone that knew me well would have been able to tell it was me."

"Mister Malfoy," the witch addressed Draco, making him snap out of his thoughts, "can you confirm what Mister Potter is saying?"

"I guess so," Draco mumbled.

"You guess so? Did you or did you not know that it was Harry at your house?"

"I did," Draco conceded, looking at the floor. He did not want Potter to know that he had done him a favour.

"And did you lie to Bellatrix Lestrange, tell her that you were unsure so that she would not summon He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Thank you Mister Malfoy. Now, Harry," she said turning her gaze back to the chair in the centre of the room, "can you tell us about Mrs Malfoy's involvement in your defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

A small applause broke out in the court at this and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled before telling the story Narcissa had told Draco just weeks before.

As with Draco's involvement, the court questioned Narcissa and she confirmed what Harry was saying, going as far to telling the room that the only thing she cared about in that moment was finding her son alive. Draco felt a surge of love for his mother but remained composed.

Harry was dismissed after this and the court began to question the Malfoy's individually. They started with Lucius and were brutal in their inquisition. They listed the charges against him including him lying about being under the imperius curse after Voldemort fell from power all those years ago and even went as far as naming the Muggles Lucius had tortured at the Quidditch World Cup.

Draco braced himself when the court turned their attentions to him, but found they were a lot kinder to him than his father. They talked about Dumbledore's death and how, even when he was given the opportunity, he still did not kill him. Draco admitted he had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts but only because Voldemort had threatened his family. The court seemed sympathetic towards him and moved on to questioning his mother. Her interview lasted mere minutes, for she was not branded as a Death Eater and her involvement in torture and murder had been non-existent. She did however, admit to the Death Eaters using her home as a place to keep prisoners.

For several long moments after this, the court spoke amongst themselves, apparently coming to a verdict. With a wave of his hand, the Chief Warlock silenced the court and stood to address the family.

"All those in favour of finding Narcissa Malfoy guilty?"

Draco felt a jolt as only three hands were raised.

"Cleared of all charges. All those in favour of finding Draco Malfoy guilty?"

He held his breath as he watched the court, this time more hands were raised but considerably less than half. He breathed a sigh of relief, he was free.

"Also cleared of all charges. All those in favour of finding Lucius Malfoy guilty?"

Shock coursed through Draco as almost every hand raised in front of him. He glanced at his father who was watching the court with a glassy-eyed expression, no sign at all that he knew what the hands meant. The cuffs locked around his wrists in case he made an attempt to escape but he remained motionless. Narcissa let out a cry.

"Lucius Malfoy is found guilty of all charges presented to him today. He will be removed from the court and immediately taken to Azkaban where he will await details of his length of imprisonment. Court dismissed.

The witches and wizards rose from the benches and filed out of the door Draco had entered the room though. The guards approached the three Malfoys and told Draco and his mother that they were free to go. Narcissa fell to her knees at her husband's feet and sobbed into his lap and still he did not react. Draco managed, with the help of one of the guards, to pull his mother away and out of the court. He glanced at his shoulder and saw his father being dragged across the room to a different door and knew that would be the last time he ever saw him.