Disclaimer: I confess; I really am J.K. Rowling. I'm absurdly talented and wealthy, and yet I spend my days writing fanfiction for my own stories. What's that? You mean to tell me that that's completely illogical and thoroughly unbelievable? Well, damn.

Chapter Seven: Trials and Tribulations

The next few weeks passed without any major incidents. Hermione would travel to the ministry each day, check her wand with the aurors in charge of guarding the prisoners, and let herself into Draco's cell carrying a picnic basket and, as needed, new reading materials. The guards didn't even bother locking her in after the first few visits.

The initial awkwardness of their new relationship had more or less passed after their first foray into physical intimacy, and they continued to snog each other senseless whenever the urge hit them. This turned out to be quite often, though they never ventured any farther than they had that first time. Draco was secretly dying to strip her clothes off and ravish her, but felt unwilling to pressure her into anything so soon. Besides, he was surprised by just how much he could enjoy taking things slow with Hermione Granger.

Hermione only felt confused about her feelings for Draco when she wasn't with him. She'd yet to talk to anyone about what was going on, though she sometimes thought Harry might know anyway. He would often eye her speculatively upon her return from the ministry, but would then simply smile gently at her and continue as though he suspected nothing. She felt guilty about not confiding in her best friend, but couldn't bring herself to talk about it when things were still so unsure. She once thought briefly about Ron's reaction, before bursting into guilty tears and blocking the thought from her mind.

Draco and Hermione spent their visits getting to know one another better. They talked about literature, music, art and even quidditch. They compared the cultures of muggles and wizards, each imparting heretofore unknown knowledge upon the other. Hermione delighted in bringing him muggle novels about wizards and magic, debunking the common wizard belief that all muggles hated and feared anything magical.

They did not often talk about the Malfoys' impending trials, nor the events that necessitated them. However, as the date of Lucius' arraignment approached, Hermione could detect suppressed fear and dread lurking beneath Draco's carefully pleasant façade. The day before the trial was scheduled to start, Hermione decided to broach the subject.

Draco was seated on his cot; his back against the wall with Hermione nestled against his chest, his fingers working lazily through her wavy tresses.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Are you worried about your father's trial?"

His hands stilled in her hair and his body tensed infinitesimally. "A bit."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He let out a sigh and continued his earlier movements, winding her loose curls around his fingers and then unraveling them. "I don't really know what to say, Hermione. Part of me wishes he would get off the way he did the first time around, but another part knows he really shouldn't."

Hermione digested this silently, allowing him to think before he continued again, softer this time.

"Then there's another part, a part I'm not terribly proud of, that can only think about how it will affect me. Father is…demanding. He expects a lot of me, being the sole heir to the Malfoy name and fortune and all." His voice was now slightly bitter, harsher as he recalled his strained relationship with the man. "I don't really know if any of this has changed him, but I would expect it hasn't. I don't think I could handle moving back into the manor, knowing that he would treat me and everyone else as though nothing had happened."

Hermione nodded silently against his chest, pleased and a little surprised at his candid response. He interrupted her musings when he continued in a firmer tone, voice strong with his conviction. "I can't go back to the person I used to be, Hermione. I won't."

Hermione felt her heart swell in her chest, and she turned around to place tender kisses across his face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know, Draco. I know."

"Will you be there, tomorrow?" Draco and Narcissa were being permitted to watch Lucius' trial in the morning, but he'd yet to ask her to come. He was a little daunted by the idea of suffering it without her.

Hermione gave him a little squeeze of assurance. "Only if you want me to be." He nodded silently in response, so she added, "Then I'll be there."

Draco whispered his thanks into her hair, rubbing light circles into her lower back with his strong hands. They spent the rest of the day in silence, just holding one another in quiet reassurance.

***

Draco was ushered onto a bench next to his mother by a stoic looking auror. Narcissa Malfoy was nearly unrecognizable in her drab, gray prison garb; her usually lush hair lay lank and dirty on her too-thin shoulders, her face was pale and pinched, and her normally rigid posture had been broken into something weak and frightened, her shoulders hunched in on themselves. Draco took her hand in his and squeezed gently; giving her the most comforting look he could muster.

Narcissa looked on her son with pale, frightened eyes, already shimmering with unshed tears. "Draco…"

"It's alright, I'm here, Mother." She nodded slowly, then leaned her head against his shoulder. Draco wrapped an arm around her protectively, determined to make her feel safe again even if only for a moment.

The trial was being held in one of the large, round chambers on the opposite side of the lift from the prisoner's quarters. Draco and Narcissa sat in the topmost bench, with aurors stationed all around. The wizengamot sat in the lowest benches, nearest to the floor where the testimonies would be taking place. The few who had come to watch were trickling in now, taking their seats at the opposite side of the chamber from Draco and Narcissa. Members of the press were, thankfully, not allowed.

Draco shifted in his seat when Hermione walked in. She sat down nervously across the room, her eyes flitting about, taking in the grim atmosphere around her. She saw Draco and sent him a sad smile before moving her gaze to Narcissa. He could see concern and pity written in her features, and when she looked back to him she seemed to be fighting back tears. He smiled bravely back at her, clutching his mother a bit tighter to his side.

The murmurs of muted conversations came to a sudden halt when a door opened at the bottom of the chamber and Lucius Malfoy walked steadily to his seat, placed at the center of the chamber floor. Barrister Waverly was seated at a side bench, quill poised above her notebook.

Draco didn't notice when the Chief Warlock opened the proceedings, calling for order and reading the charges being brought against the elder Malfoy. His eyes were glued to his father's grave features; everything else seemed to melt away. He did notice when Waverly stood and addressed the wizengamot, requesting permission for her client to make an opening statement. Permission was granted, and Lucius stood to face his judgment.

Utter silence reigned in the courtroom as Lucius Malfoy began to speak. "Honorable members of the wizengamot, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to speak my mind on this grave occasion. You have read the charges brought against me, and I'm quite sure they came as no great shock to any one of you. My involvement in He-who-must-not-be-named's recent return to power has not been a great secret. I stand before you now to beg your mercy. Not for myself, but for those I have unfairly entangled in the web of my own undeniable mistakes; I beg your mercy on behalf of my wife and son." His eyes now traveled above the wizengamot to rest on his family. "The only crime they are truly guilty of is that of love and loyalty paid out to someone wholly undeserving. I shall serve my sentence willingly, but please, do not punish the innocent for my mistakes."

Lucius fixed his son with a look that spoke a thousand words of remorse and love. With that look, he finally gave Draco his acceptance, his approval, his unconditional love and support, and most importantly, his permission to move forward without him, to live his life fully and without regret.

Draco's chest was aching, his throat burning with repressed emotion. He nodded his head to his father, acknowledging everything that had passed unsaid between them.

Lucius sat back down, but kept his eyes on his wife and son. The wizengamot was now a mass of rustling cloaks and hushed voices as they reached a decision. After a few moments, the Chief Warlock stood to address the room once more. "Lucius Malfoy, for crimes innumerable committed under order of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, we hereby sentence you to life imprisonment without possibility of parole. This session is dismissed."

Narcissa let out a weak sob, collapsing against Draco completely. Draco held on to his mother, unable to utter any words of meaningless comfort, unable to say anything at all as the chamber slowly emptied. Lucius was taken back into the small chamber off the floor, and one of the aurors turned to address Draco and his weeping mother. "We'll take you down now. You'll have twenty minutes with him until you're to be taken back to your cells." Draco stood, supporting his mother's thin frame, and followed the aurors to the floor, where Hermione stood alone, watching him carefully.

He watched her cry silently for him, knowing she understood everything he was feeling. "Wait for me?"

She nodded. "I'll be here."

Knowing she'd be there waiting for him when it was over, Draco felt strong enough to face this parting. He gripped his mother firmly and walked forward to say goodbye to his father.

***

Hermione stood leaning against the wall, watching the door to the side chamber intently. Her heart was breaking for Draco and his once-proud mother, who seemed so broken now, but she really just wanted to kiss Lucius, she was so grateful for the things he'd said. She knew what that would mean to Draco, to have this final, incontrovertible evidence that his father really and truly did love him, more than life, more than freedom.

She stood up straighter when the door opened and the small family filed out. They embraced each other one more time before a quartet of aurors came forward to lead Lucius away. When he passed by Hermione on his way to the main exit, he eyed her curiously before bowing his head in silent greeting. She mimicked his actions, unable to find words to express her gratitude, unsure that he would even understand her part in any of this if she did. A heartbeat later and he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the corridor outside. Hermione turned to see Draco and Narcissa watching her, the same sad smile on both their faces.

One of the remaining aurors addressed her then. "Will you be visiting Mr. Malfoy's cell this evening, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blushed violently and turned to Draco with her eyebrow raised in question. He nodded once, and she mumbled a timid "Yes" before following the group out the door. She was painfully aware of Narcissa, still clutching her son's arm and wiping at her eyes sporadically. She hadn't really thought about Draco's parent's reaction to their somewhat unconventional romance, but now that she had, she was a little terrified.

The group stopped outside a door much nearer to the lift than Draco's, and Hermione supposed it must have been Narcissa's room. She watched mother and son embrace again; murmuring unintelligible comforts to one another, before Narcissa drew back and unexpectedly turned to face Hermione.

Hermione froze, unable to think or move until Narcissa reached out and took her in a gentle hug, stooping slightly to whisper in her ear. "You'll look after him for me, then?" Hermione nodded wordlessly, and Narcissa placed a light kiss against her temple before drawing back, fixing her with a grateful look, and walking gracefully into her cell.

Hermione was still staring at the closed door when she felt Draco take her hand in his, guiding her along the corridor to his own room. Once inside, he led her to the small bed where he lay down on his side and pulled her down to rest with her back pressed tight against his chest. No words were needed, and none were spoken. They simply lay together, hands clasped, chests moving in unison, until sleep overtook them both.

A/N: I really have no knowledge whatsoever of British trial procedures, and I'd imagine wizard trials would be completely different anyway, so I'm going to have to play it a little loose and sloppy with these scenes. Forgive me.

Thanks, as always, for reading. Your reviews make me inappropriately happy. :D