Chapter Two
The witches and wizards in the courtroom that had been looking bored before were staring at him. They had thought he would go quietly, that they could use him for their wrath against Voldemort and his followers. He wondered, if they thought he was so far broken from losing his parents and his month in Azkaban that time and guilt would have gotten to him. It had with his mother. She had loved him more than anybody else. She loved him the way a mother is suppose to love her son. She had not treated him like the next Malfoy prodigy like his father had, or a countless face to do whatever the Dark Lord was bidding. Not even Pansy had truly loved him, she just wanted the Malfoy name and fortune. The only person that ever truly loved him was dead, she had lied to Voldemort. He wondered if she would be proud of him for the life he wanted to live and the means of receiving it. Self-preservation, he told himself.
"Not Guilty?" Questioned the Minister, looking down at him. "You have the Dark Mark on your arm and you the audacity to say not guilty?"
"That is correct...sir. I was sixteen when I was forced to take the Mark, my childhood home used as Headquarters for Voldemort. I will comply with whatever it is to maintain my innocence be it Pensive or Veritaserum."
He heard the whispers, he even smiled to himself when someone said that it must be trick. He didn't know why, but he looked at Granger. Her face was pale and her mouth partly open. Potter on the other hand, his face was a shade of red that would make the a Weasley proud. He hid his smirk. Yes, Weasel was dead, but not by him.
"What are you getting at, Malfoy?" Potter spat. He ignored him, he had to stay calm. Self-Preservation, he kept telling himself. Potter wasn't going to let this go, "Malfoy!" This time he looked at Shacklebolt. Are we really letting Saint Potter run a hearing now?
"Harry is right, just what are you getting at, Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy sighed looking at Potter and back up again.
"I'm not getting at anything. I didn't kill Weasley or the muggles. I've never killed anyone." He knew he should have been proud to say that, but his father's voice once again appeared reminding him of his weakness. But I'm alive, he thought.
"Your wand…" A brown haired witch started.
"My wand tells you what was cast, but not who cast it." He wanted to say more but didn't. His voice was getting raspy again his throat screaming for more water. Take the bloody memories for evidence. Obliviate me. He wished. No, they'll never do that. I'll wake to my screams for the rest of my life. He shook his head wondering for a moment if it was even worth to fight. If he didn't die in Azkaban, and somehow he make it out of this someone would kill him.
"Come off it, Malfoy! You hated Ron, no amount of memory alteration can hide the fact that you killed him!" Hermione elbowed him in the side making her the new victim of Potter's attack. "He killed our best friend and here you are watering and defending him!"
Granger's face was livid, he'd seen it like that before when she punched him their third year. He waited for the punch to put Potter in his place, but it didn't come. He heard her whisper in a rattled voice that he didn't know that and to let Kingsley do his job. They looked at Kingsley, Hermione nodded her head to let him continue. The Minister cleared his throat and looked back down at him.
"Veritaserum can not hold up in the court of law, seeing as the user can manipulate his answers to a form of truth. I will personally collect your memories before you leave to go back to your cell. You will be brought back after the memories have been observed and will determine your guilt… or lack of. Guards."
The guards threw him in a holding cell somewhere in the Ministry. The floor was cold on his face and knees. He huddled in a corner hoping for warmth, the ragged sack he was wearing made him think of his house elves. They would bring him cups of hot cocoa as he sat by the fire after cold days of flying his Nimbus 2001. Warm thoughts, He repeated until he heard the door open and Shacklebolt was upon him ransacking his brain pulling almost every memory from the last two years.
"Take him back to Azkaban." Shacklebolt told the guards as he walked out of the room.