Redemption

a/N: Hello, everyone! Alright, I realized I just uploaded a chapter and all, but I've really been in a writing mood this weekend, and I don't know how soon I can update in the future, so I've decided to write the next chapter for you all! Now, first I have a bit of a note to direct to newyorklover concerning her last review. I went back and looked over the chapter, and originally I had mentioned that Theo's plan was to Obliviate his meeting with Hermione and Draco from their minds so that he wouldn't get in trouble for it, and then he was going to extract their memories. I guess somewhere through my editing and such I accidentally deleted it, so I take the fault for that one! I really want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this, and as always, read/comment/let me know what you think! My song rec for this chapter is "Apologize" by One Republic. Enjoy .

Chapter Twenty One: The Trial

"And how long have you been keeping this plan with Theodore Nott a secret?"

"About a year—maybe a little longer."

Draco was placed in a small court room deep within the confines of the Ministry of Magic, sitting in a chair opposite a small trial full of Ministry officials, and seated at the head of the council was none other than the Minister of Magic himself: Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley rifled through the open file in front of him, perusing over the multiple offenses charged against Draco.

Most of which were thanks to none other than Theodore Nott himself.

After being captured by the Ministry in the heart of his shady business location, Theo had been taken to the Ministry and placed in a holding cell for questioning, during which time he made it well-known that Draco had not only made a deal to turn over his wife for illegal activity, but that the young Malfoy had also been responsible for hiding a wanted mental patient: Narcissa Malfoy. Draco didn't give a shit what they did to him, so long as they didn't hurt his mother—they couldn't lock her up like some sort of loon! She was still his mother, and he still loved her with everything he had. He had to protect her; he'd always felt that way.

But Theo had warned him, all those months ago—warned him that if Draco tried to fuck up their arrangement, that he'd ruin the carefully crafted lifestyle Draco had built to protect his mother. And ruin it he had.

"Would you please explain to the Ministry, Mr. Malfoy," Kinglsey began once more, snapping Draco from his thoughts. "what possessed you to agree to this deal in the first place?"

Draco wrung his hands together and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Oh, fuck—explaining his motives would probably sound a lot worse than they had when he'd originally agreed to the deal in his vulnerable state, and Draco was certain it wouldn't do much for his redemption.

"Well," He began, his eyes drifting over the council. "I had been left alone to trek across Europe—mostly Great Britain, admittedly—for about a month after my Obliviation. After that, I was somewhere in Scotland, I believe, when Theodore discovered me. He could tell that I'd had my memories stripped and that I had no clue what my real name even was. So he—he took it upon himself to return my memories to me. After that, well, he took advantage of my vulnerability from the ahh—the retrieval of my memories. He preyed upon them—told me that what had happened was my wife's fault, and told me that the only way she would err—learn her lesson, so to speak—would be to do to her what she'd done to me. I wasn't even aware initially that he wanted her memories for anything…malicious."

Silence fell across the court room, and Draco felt anxiety wash over him. Hermione hadn't even shown up to his bloody trial, he noticed as he looked around the empty stands.

No one had shown up.

It was a sobering thought to realize that no one even gave enough of a damn to attend his trial in the first place—perhaps it had been a hushed matter, he didn't know. He had expected, naively enough, that at least his wife would show up. And after everything they'd been through.

Then again, she had discovered his betrayal the night in Nott's office. He could only imagine what she thought about him now.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley asked, and the inflection in his tone suggested that he had been attempting to get Draco's attention for the past few minutes. Draco shook his head, clearing his mind of all thoughts and focusing on the task at hand—getting through his trial without a one way ticket to a cold cell in Azkaban.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?"

"I said, Mr. Malfoy: and why, exactly, did you hide your mother away?"

Draco paused—shit. Another question that would do nothing but harm him in the eyes of the Wizengamot, no doubt.

"She's my mother," He stated foolishly. Well, of course she was his bloody fucking mother! What was wrong with him—why weren't any of the thoughts that had taken root in his mind able to flow effortlessly from his mouth? Why was this such a damn struggle?

Perhaps because this was the first time he'd told the truth about the matter in over a year. He'd never even admitted the truth of it to himself, let alone an entire council of people.

"My mother's not a bad person," He began again, growing slightly defensive. He didn't want the members of the Wizengamot to look down on his mother for his family's affiliation during the Second War—which was not, he might as well have added, her fault—nor did he want them to judge her for the fiasco concerning Hermione and their unborn child.

"The War, it…messed her up a lot. She can't remember anything past a certain point in her life; she's forever stuck in the past. Some days she remembers me as a fifth year who has just been accepted onto Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. Other times, she remembers me as the confused young man in my Sixth Year; and rarely—very rarely, in fact—she remembers things from the midst of the War. But nothing afterwards—she's forever stuck believing she has to fear for her family's life.

"I didn't want her to be locked away in St. Mungo's for something she couldn't control; treated as nothing better than a loon. I didn't want to risk the chance of her being sent to Azkaban for the uhh…the incident concerning Hermione and our—child. She didn't mean to cause any harm, she was merely having one of her spells. There was a warrant out for her, and I just—my mother means a lot to me. I didn't want anything to happen to her."

The court fell silent, and a few Wizengamot members exchanged glances, which caused the knot that had tightened in the pit of Draco's stomach to ache. Oh, fuck, he was going to be convicted, wasn't he? He knew it—he just knew it. Now there was no way he was going to be able to—

"Your mother would be very well taken care of at St. Mungo's, you know," Kingsley spoke softly, temporarily disregarding the stack of papers spread before him. Draco lifted his gaze up to meet the Minister's, and his brows furrowed together.

"Oh?" was all he could manage. Kingsley merely nodded; he understood. Draco licked his lips and parted them to speak once more when he heard a firm knock from the door leading to his trial room, followed by the insistent low buzzing of what resembled voices. Quirking one brow, he twisted around in his seat to stare at the door, and several other council members directed their gaze to the closed door, as well.

Was someone trying to gain access to his trial…?

The door burst open, and a few men clad in blue Azkaban employee suits marched in, holding a man within their grip. A man with long, blonde hair and a temporary emerald tailored suit that stood out compared to his daily attire of a striped prison uniform.

It was his father.

Confused, Draco twisted around and watched as his father was led to the front of the room, holding his head high like the proud Pureblood he'd been raised. It would appear that even after a handful of years in prison, Lucius was still the arrogant and proud man he'd always been. He began to wonder how in the hell—why in the hell—his father was there when he heard the clacking of what appeared to be high heels against the smooth flooring of the trial room. His grey eyes slid over to the source of the noise, and his eyes met a pair of soft and hazel ones instantly.

Hermione.

She was clad in a brown pantsuit and dark-colored heels to match, her curly hair framing her face. In her hand she held a contract of sorts, and without looking at Draco she crossed the courtroom and handed the document to Kingsley, who stared at her warily for a moment before taking the parchment from her hand.

"What is this, Ms. Granger?"

"Mrs. Malfoy," She corrected immediately, and Draco saw a slight blush creep on her face after her defense. Clearing her throat, she shook her head slightly and continued.

"It's a contract I had Lucius Malfoy sign shortly after Draco's return. It's a binding contract, and I've brought him to testify its legitimacy as I present it to you—" She paused, gesturing towards the council with one of her dainty hands. "If you read the contract, you will note that it states that Lucius Malfoy testifies to his son's innocence from the charges against him regarding the Second Wizarding War, and will attest to the fact that Narcissa Malfoy's sanity began to dwindle towards the conclusion of said War."

She paused, exhaling deeply, and Draco stared at her in wonder. She had…she had done all of that for him?

But why?

Kingsley directed his attention towards Lucius expectantly, as though waiting for some kind of response. Lucius' face was expressionless, his cold gaze travelling over each member of the council, as though he wished that if he glared hard enough, they'd simply disappear.

Kingsley's gaze turned down towards the document at hand, and he skimmed it over, his brows furrowing together as he studied the fine print. Several minutes passed in silence, and Draco felt his hands grow clammy with anticipation. Finally, Kingsley lifted his head and shifted in his chair, once more directing his attention to Lucius.

"And you willingly signed this contract—understanding what it held and entitled?" He questioned, and suddenly everyone's hot and curious glares were turned to the eldest Malfoy, who seemed unaffected by the attention.

"Yes," He responded coolly. "I am perfectly aware. It's foolish to blame my son for my offenses—he did not willingly go into this Death Eater lifestyle nor would he have chosen it if he had been presented with an alternative."

Just then, a woman from the back of the room—a Wizengamot member whom Draco had never seen before—coughed slightly and raised her hand. She had short, raven-colored hair and a petite frame. She stared long and hard at Lucius before being granted permission by Kingsley to speak.

"There is always a choice, Mr. Malfoy," She protested, lacing her hands together in her lap as though she was quite pleased with the contradiction she'd brought up. Hushed whispers sounded across the council for a minute before the group fell silent, and Draco swore he saw the tips of his father's lips twitch into a slight smirk.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Draco was stunned by his father's outward protest, mildly worried that he was going to risk further punishment by being so outwardly disrespectful to a Ministry member. The woman who had raised her hand, however, had no further commentary, and seemed to shrink back into the stand she had placed herself at.

Lucius suddenly shifted his cold gaze over to Hermione expectantly, and his lips pursed slightly. Draco began to idly wonder if that was where he'd picked up the trait from when his father's cool and commanding tone snapped him from his thoughts.

"Do you plan on telling them, I wonder, your offenses, Miss—oh, forgive me—Mrs. Malfoy?"

If the room had been quiet before, it was deadly silence now. Draco could have sliced the tension with a knife, and he felt his heart speed up as the words his father had uttered registered in his mind. He wanted to cry out and demand to know what they were speaking of, but he didn't want to risk getting scolded by the same lot of people who were to determine whether or not he'd leave this trial room a free man. He gazed at Hermione curiously, watching her face pale considerably, and any doubt he might've held that his father wasn't telling the truth fled immediately.

Clearly, she was hiding something from him.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Hermione licked her lips and turned to face the Wizengamot, her face near expressionless.

"What is Mr. Malfoy referring to, Hermione?" Kingsley questioned, genuine curiosity overwhelming his aged features. Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, lacing her hands together and brushing her thumb across her knuckle.

"Before Draco's…disappearance," Hermione began in a strained voice, addressing the entire council now. "And shortly after the loss of our…uhm…our child, I became very, well, intoxicated one night and was approached by Theodore Nott."

She paused, swallowing heavily, and Draco felt as though a century had passed before she continued.

"And he spoke to me about—uhm—about the importance of his illegal memory business. He was brief, really, but he made it clear that mine would be worth a small fortune, and when I resisted in my intoxicated state, he—he placed the Imperius Curse on me."

She choked out the last words, and Draco felt his eyes bulge from their sockets. He stared at her in astonishment, wondering why the hell Hermione had never felt the need to make him privy to such information! He gripped the arms of his chair, leaning forward and listening intently as Kingsley urged her to continue.

"He Imperio'd me into arriving to your office that one afternoon shortly after the incident—" Hermione gestured towards Kingsley. "—and forced me into placing charges against my husband and his mother. After which, I was informed that if I turned him into you, he would make sure that Narcissa would suffer for my…for my unwillingness to comply with his demands, and I couldn't put my husband through that. I couldn't allow his mother to become prey to the harsh ways of the world just because I wasn't strong enough to resist the Imperius. Draco loves his mother, exceedingly so, but had I been under my own control…well, I wouldn't have dreamed of pressing charges against them."

Draco sat in his chair, completely dumbstruck with the information she was revealing to the entire council. Was that why she'd acted so guilty ever since he'd returned? Why she often fell asleep crying and apologized to him when she thought he had long since fallen asleep?

It was as though someone had turned on a light and thrust him out into the open and out of the dark and cramped space he'd been isolated in for so long.

Finally, he understood.

"So…how did Draco come to be Obliviated, exactly?" Kingsley questioned, enthralled in the story she'd produced. Draco's breath hitched in his throat and he tensed, listening as he wondered whether or not she'd tell the truth, whether or not she'd reveal—

"I Obliviated him…purposely. I did it to protect him after we hid Narcissa in a Muggle institution."

—the truth. So long, he'd been waiting for her to tell the truth about that day. He had longed for it, almost, and now that the moment was finally upon him, Draco wasn't sure how to feel about it. The truth had been a lot more complex than he'd originally guessed, and he felt faint trying to wrap his head around it all.

"I hope you realize, Hermione, we're going to need proof," Kingsley said finally, and the inflection in his tone hinted that he resented himself for even having to ask something so personal of her in the first place. Nodding, Hermione produced her wand, walking over to Kingsley. She handed it to him, and he stepped down from the podium, retrieving his own wand and holding hers in his hand.

It was then that Draco grasped what they were doing—Hermione was going to show him her memories.

All members of the council, the Azkaban guards, Lucius, and Draco watched as Hermione and Kingsley slowly marched from one end of the court room to the other. Kingsley fiddled with a door located on the far right side of the room, opening it up to reveal a dark room tinted with blue: the Pensieve room. He turned around, motioning for two of the officials who were positioned in the stands to come down and bear witness. They did as ordered, nervously walking back into the room.

Kingsley shut the door behind them, and suddenly Draco was left alone with a council of Wizards and Witches alike who were silently judging him, an impassive entourage of Azkaban employees, and an estranged and cold father.

Silence enveloped the courtroom for several moments. Draco watched the clock mounted in the tiny room, watching in nervous agitation as the clock ticked past five minutes, then ten, then fifteen…

At approximately twenty-five minutes after Hermione, Kingsley, and the other nameless trial members had entered the Pensieve room, Draco heard a rustle as a door was thrown open, and silently they began to file out, Hermione looking significantly relieved. Kingsley, however, seemed slightly disturbed, and Draco couldn't quite make out the expressions on the other two Ministry employees' faces.

Kingsley held a small clear vial in his hand—one of which Draco suspected contained Hermione's memory that was crucial to his trial. The Minister stepped back up on his podium and lifted the vial with the swirling memory contained in it for all to see.

"We have here an extracted memory of Golden Trio member and War Heroine Hermione Granger," He explained loudly, and Draco's eyes slid over to his wife's.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"This memory contains irrevocable proof that supports Draco Malfoy's innocence, as well as his wife's. This vial has been reviewed by myself and approved, as well as other certified members of the Ministry of Magic."

Kingsley paused in his speech to set the vial down on his podium, lifting Draco's trial papers and holding them up for the room to see.

"And now, we vote."

Kingsley took his seat, and Draco began to quiver slightly in anticipation. He was certain that the proof that Hermione had brought forth was more than enough to prove him innocent, but he knew that people would be against him, one way or another.

The question was—how many people were willing to believe he was a man of innocence?

There were twenty Ministry members—aside from Kingsley—who had been placed to view and vote on the trial of Draco Malfoy, and as they all prepared themselves for the final decision, Draco felt his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

"All those for Draco Malfoy being cleared of all charges?"

After a short beat of silence in which nobody acted, twelve of the Ministry members—including Kingsley—raised their hands, and Kingsley tallied the vote.

"And all those against?"

The remaining members present at the trial hesitantly raised their hands, and Kinglsey recorded the scores. Moving to stand once more, Kingsley cleared his throat and his gaze swept over Draco, Hermione, and Lucius.

"The court hereby votes in favor of Draco Malfoy's repentance, and clears him, his mother and his wife of all possible charges."

Relief swept through his body, coursing through his veins and causing him to slump over slightly in his chair. Draco could hardly hear over the pulsing in his ears, and he was quite certain that everyone could hear his labored breathing as he struggled in vain to collect his bearings.

His eyes snapped to his wife's, and Draco quickly got to his feet, making his way over to her. He studied her, noticing there were tears in her eyes, and upon seeing him walk towards her as the Ministry members slowly began to file out of the court room, Hermione quickly swiped at her eyes and sniffled, reluctantly meeting his gaze.

"Well," She said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "You've gotten what you wanted now—you're free, Draco."

Draco studied her, puzzled for a moment. He didn't understand—why was she acting like this? Wouldn't she be pleased that he was free? They could be together now—right? Wasn't that what she wanted? Wasn't that what he wanted?

"I…suppose," Draco managed, his brows furrowing together slightly as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Congratulations," She said coolly, wringing her hands together. "Now you can finally leave and move on, like you wanted."

Draco stared at her in silence, completely stunned. Had his letter meant nothing to her…?

"Hermione, I—"

"I'm sorry, I have to go," She whispered, shoving past him and turning her gaze to the ground. She tugged a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and clacked noisily through the court room, leaving with the final Ministry member.

Stunned, Draco stared, open-mouthed, at the space where she had once stood.

What the hell just happened?

It was then that Draco noticed the Azkaban employees were gathering their bearings and beginning to lead Lucius from the room once more. He stopped them, turning to Draco and settling his gaze on his son. It had been so long since they'd seen one another, and Draco felt a small lump beginning to form in his throat.

"Draco," Lucius began, in that same cold and demanding drawl that Draco had been so accustomed to as a child.

"Yes, father?"

"She might be a Mudblood and all, but…she went through a lot to ensure you'd be safe. And while it would please me no further than to see you move on and marry someone worthy of your social status—you need to start living for yourself."

He made a gesture with his hands, then, as if to pat his son on the shoulder, but decided against it, allowing the Azkaban guards to lead him out of the court room.

And Draco was left in silence.