This is the sequel to my oneshot, Trick, in which Draco Malfoy is taken into custody.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter One: Heartaches
"Draco Malfoy, you have been brought before the Council of Magical Law to answer to the following charges: Utilization of an Unforgivable curse – witnesses for the Ministry, Harry Potter and Iliana Rosmerta. Trespassing – witnesses for the Ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Ginevra Weasley. Association-"
Ginny had stood when her name was read. "Witness for the-" She and Scrimgeour stopped speaking at the same time.
Scrimgeour blinked and fixed her with a piercing stare. "Excuse me?"
"Witness for the defense, Ginevra Weasley," Ginny muttered glumly, staring at her feel. The Wizengamot shifted in their place at this unexpected announcement and she could feel Harry fix her with a death glare as she took her seat once more.
"Oh, Ginny," Arthur murmured beside her, patting her folded hands as the mutters died down.
"Noted," Percy Weasley chirped from his position beside Scrimgeour, his quill dangling elegantly in the moment of silence.
"Association with a forbidden organization, and three counts of attempted murder – witnesses for the Ministry, Iliana Rosmerta, Katherine Bell, Horace Slughorn, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter." Ginny now glanced across the room to Harry, who nodded tightly at the Wizengamot. "Mr. Malfoy, you have refused Veritaserum, as is your right under the Treaty of Bryn Malon section 8416-10A…." Ron was slouched beside Harry with a formidable scowl on his face. Next was Molly, her lips compressed in a tight line. Ginny craned her neck further still and spotted Hermione four rows behind in a miserable slump, her hair obscuring her features. The familiar sadness crashed over her, and time slowed to a crawl and began to unravel at the seams. This was all her fault – the fighting between her mum and dad, Ron's irrepressible rage, Hermione's grief, and Harry, Harry….
Arthur suddenly laid his hand on her shoulder, and the rustling and murmuring in the courtroom brought everything back into sharp relief. "Might as well stretch your legs, love," he said gently, standing himself. "Pumpkin juice?"
Court was in recess. "I'll get my own," she said woodenly, rising.
Naturally, Ron stomped up to her the minute she entered the rotunda outside the courtroom. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted when he was close enough to point an accusing finger in her face.
"I thought you said you weren't talking to me!" she snapped, slapping his hand down.
"ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US ALL, GINNY?" he bellowed. "Mum's mad with grief, and think what this is doing to Harry! As if it wasn't bad enough-"
"GO AWAY!" she shrieked desperately, fists clenched at her sides. She could see Aurors pushing through the crowd, and the crowd itself was watching the altercation with interest.
A hand appeared on Ron's shoulder. "Leave it, mate," said Harry, quietly enough that Ginny could barely hear. "She's not worth it."
Ron deflated with visible effort. "If you were ever my sister," he began, but then choked on his words and turned to Harry. "I think she may be under the Imperius."
"What's she going to say?" Harry scoffed, steering Ron away. "We all know it's true." Soon, they melted back into the crowd.
Harry hadn't looked at her once.
She melted backwards through the crowd and hunched as close to the wall as she could, sidling along the edges of the room to the refreshments. She saw a short, black-haired wizard in cerulean robes point in her direction and she watched him warily, unsure of whether or not he was pointing at her or the painting of dancing mushrooms she'd just passed –
"Oof!" Ginny had smacked into something warm and bouncy, and her stomach was now cold and wet. Bushy hair brushed the edges of her vision. "Ginny, I'm so sorry!" Hermione breathed.
Their eyes locked and they stared wide-eyed at each other. Hermione's skin had a sickly, ashen pallor and her eyes had sunk into her face like codlins into a snowbank. To Ginny's disbelief, she could see three gray hairs sprouting from the older girl's part. Her hand was clamped around her glass so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Ginny reached down and pulled at her robes. They parted from her stomach with a thick squelching sound.
That broke the spell. "Here," said Hermione, reaching up her sleeve, "I'll…oh bugger, our wands."
"I'll go to the loo, I suppose," Ginny muttered irritably.
Hermione marched into the marbled and gilt bathroom behind her. "I've got this for stains," she announced, pulling a small packet out of her purse. "It's just that your robes are so light…."
Ginny looked at the square with SHOUT WIPES emblazoned across it, decided she didn't want to know, and bent at an awkward angle over the sink to rinse her pale yellow robe. "Pumpkin juice doesn't stain, Hermione."
"Well…I just…." She stuffed the packet away and gave her a wary look. "How are you, Ginny?" she asked carefully.
"Oh, just splendid. I'm defending an upstanding young wizard at his horribly unfair trial, I've got loving friends and family, and I just finished getting kisses from my brother, didn't you see?" She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her ponytail, which was perky this morning, was now lank even though it had missed the pumpkin juice entirely.
"Don't be that way," Hermione reprimanded, looking hurt.
"Don't tell me what to do," snapped Ginny, twisting the faucet shut, "you'd think you'd stop trying to control people already."
"Now see here, Ginny, I was just-"
She slammed her fist down on the countertop. "When you programmed Harry with that love potion, you destroyed my life," she hissed. "You destroyed my life, and you never asked even though you're supposed to be my friend. After all of this, all you can ever say is that you thought it was best under the circumstances. It's been two months. My own mother isn't speaking to me. Ron has disowned me, So tell me, Hermione, is it? Has everything worked out to your liking?"
Hermione looked stricken and wrung her hands, but Ginny was unmoved. "I lost my three best friends that day," she whispered.
Ginny already knew that. This whole thing was a variation of arguments that had already passed. She turned to leave, sopping robe notwithstanding, but all the things she couldn't say in the Burrow, to her family, burst forth without her permission. "They all hate me," she confessed in a guttural tone, unable to look up from the glinting tile floor. "Mum, Ron, Harry, they pretend I'm not there if they can. Mum fights with Dad because he still talks to me. I work at the twins' store as much as I can, but if I'm home it's best if I lock myself in my room. I never thought I'd say this, but I really can't wait to get back to school."
When she looked up, Hermione gave her a small, twisted smile. "I never thought I'd be going back to school at all."
"They'll be begging to have you back after a week," Ginny snorted. "Honestly, can you imagine Ron being the brains of the operation?"
The lights dimmed momentarily, shattering the newly-forged intimacy between the two witches. "Well, we'd best get back to the courtroom," Ginny said, feeling suddenly awkward.
"Yes," Hermione agreed absently. "I can't believe you're testifying on Malfoy's behalf."
Ginny bit her tongue, but only because Hermione's comment was entirely without malice. "Neither can I."
"I suppose I'll find out what you could possibly say for him later. Listen, Ginny, can I owl you later if I don't manage to see you again here?"
"I suppose," she allowed, although she could feel her mulishness towards her flooding back. She took exaggerated care in wringing her robes out over the sink so Hermione would leave and she could walk back to the courtroom alone.