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Chapter 50

"Perhaps," Umbridge said. "Perhaps we should send an investigator to be sure he isn't abusing her and her brother and sister."

"Come now, Dolores, be reasonable," the witch on Fudge's other side said, sighing in exasperation at Umbridge. She didn't seem to like Umbridge, which didn't surprise me, as I couldn't imagine anybody liking her. "No human's hands are that big, nobody's fingers that long."

"Well he's a werewolf, so his could be," Umbridge said, annoyed. "And they probably are." The other witch rolled her eyes. Even Fudge seemed to agree with the other witch rather than Umbridge.

"If she had been around him while he was in his werewolf form, then I believe she would have much worse injuries than a bruised neck," Dumbledore said. I could tell by his voice that he was getting annoyed with Umbridge. He didn't seem to like her, and I didn't blame him.

Umbridge huffed, but leaned back in her chair, resigning her argument. At least for now.

"Very well," Fudge said, looking annoyed. He waved a hand at me. "You may go."

I looked uncertainly at Dumbledore, who refused to even look my direction, and then Harry, who nodded slightly. I could tell he didn't want me to go, he didn't want to face that crowd alone, but he knew I had to leave. So I did.

I could tell Mr. Weasley wanted to ask questions, but I didn't give him time to as I rested my head against the crack in the door, trying desperately to hear what was going on inside. I got a little lucky, at least more than I had expected – I could hear little snippets of their conversation.

"Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence," I heard Dumbledore say.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Fudge snarled, his voice low but so angry that it carried to me easily.

"It means that I think they were ordered there."

Several witches and wizards came waltzing by, shooting me odd looks but not saying anything, and it became impossible to hear the conversation inside the room for several moments. When I tuned back in, I heard Fudge exclaim,

"We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!"

"Of course you are," Dumbledore said patiently. "Then we are in agreement that Harry's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances the clause describes?"

"If there were Dementors, which I doubt."

"You have heard it from an eyewitness," Dumbledore pointed out. "If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object." I couldn't help but silently wish they would call me back in, so I could make fools of them. That's always what I wanted to do around dumbasses like them.

A few minutes of not being able to understand them, and Fudge was suddenly saying, "Oho! Not our business what he does at school, eh? You think so?"

Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I'm just paranoid. But something about the way that he said it, and the gleam I could just imagine in his eyes, sounded as though, whatever Dumbledore had said that caused this reaction, was going to change. If it didn't matter what Harry did at school, somehow, they were going to make it matter.

I didn't like the strange feeling of foreboding I got in the pit of my stomach.

And finally, after what felt like ages, I heard Fudge say angrily, "Very well, very well…cleared of all charges."

It took all my self control not to jump for joy, and instead just let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding and stepped back from the door, leaning against the wall casually so it didn't look as though I had been listening in.

And lucky I had moved so quickly, because Dumbledore came bursting out of the room. Mr. Weasley took a step toward him, but Dumbledore didn't say anything, and instead hurried down the hall. I waited for Harry so I could…congratulate him?…but when he came bustling out of the room and told a few short sentences to Mr. Weasley. When he turned to me, I could help but throw my arms around him, holding him tight.

"I couldn't have done it without you, y'know," he whispered so even Mr. Weasley couldn't hear. I laughed, disbelieving.

"Yeah, right, I didn't do anything to help you."

"No really," he whispered. "If it weren't for you they would've for sure convicted me." I didn't believe him. They didn't even listen to me.

The door opened again and the witches and wizards inside started filing out.

"Merlin's beard!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, pulling Harry and I aside so they could pass. "You were tried by the full court?"

"I think so."

I paid little to no attention to those coming out of the courtroom until Percy came out. While he completely ignored Mr. Weasley and Harry, acting as if they were simply part of the wall or something, his eyes rounded on me.

"Is your neck okay?" he asked. Though he sounded annoyed or something of the like, I could tell he honestly cared. I had practically been raised as his sister; it's only natural for him to worry about me – even though he didn't seem to worry too much about his real family.

I stiffened and nodded, refusing to say anything to him. Even if he hadn't hurt me, he had hurt his family, something I was completely against. I would give anything for somebody – anybody – that I loved.

"Maybe you should get it checked out by a more…qualified wizard. Wouldn't want you to get too hurt," he said before marching down the hall after Fudge. I knew he was directing his words at his father, even if he didn't look at him, or even anywhere near him for that matter. I felt my throat tighten at seeing him completely ignore his own father.

I looked up at Mr. Weasley. He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but I could tell it hurt. The Weasley's are a tight knit family.

"I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news," he said, beckoning Harry and I forwards as Percy's heels disappeared up the steps. "I'll drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on…"

"So, what will you have to do about the toilet?" Harry asked, grinning. The truth about how he was actually cleared must finally be sinking in.

"Oh, it's a simple enough anti-jinx," Mr. Weasley answered as we started up the stairs.

But I really wasn't listening. The tightening of my throat I had felt when Percy was talking to me hadn't gone away – if anything, it had gotten worse. I had thought it was just because of his presence, but now that it hadn't gone away I didn't know what to think. It couldn't be getting worse, could it?

When I heard Mr. Weasley cut off mid-sentence, I looked back up from my feet at him to see what was wrong and found myself stopping just in time to avoid running into Harry, who had stopped beside Mr. Weasley.

I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but stopped for two reasons; I was finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak, and I had leaned around Harry and seen why we had stopped.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, was talking to somebody I recognized instantly. Not because I had met him specifically before, but because I had spent a lot of time with somebody who looked exactly like him.

Lucius Malfoy.

When he turned to face us, I could see that there were more resemblances between father and son than I had known. Tall, pale, sleek blonde hair with a little too much gel, pointed face, cold grey eyes.

At first his eyes landed on Harry, but when he saw me poking my face out from behind his shoulder they moved to me. I gulped, tempted to retreat behind Harry's back again. I had to remind myself that I'm a Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff, and I should have the courage to stand up to him.

If only it weren't for the fact that Harry had told me pointedly several times that Malfoy was one of the Death Eaters that had been there that night in the graveyard.

But, to my surprise, his eyes trailed back to Harry. Either he didn't recognize me, which I highly doubt, or he just didn't know what to say.

"Well, well, well…Patronus Potter," he said coolly. Harry's hands clenched into fists at his side. "The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter. Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes… snakelike, in fact."

Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning, but his eyes met mine. He shook his head slightly before he turned back to face Malfoy.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good at escaping," Harry said casually.

"And Arthur Weasley too!" Malfoy exclaimed. "What are you doing here, Arthur?"

"I work here," Mr. Weasley replied briskly.

"Not here, surely?" Malfoy asked, raising one slick eyebrow in a way I had seen Draco do several times. "I thought you were up on the second floor… don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artifacts home and bewitching them?"

It's effective to say that Mr. Weasley was now gripping Harry's shoulder so hard not to keep Harry from saying something but to keep himself from attacking Malfoy. Can't say I was too thrilled with how he was acting either, but it wasn't like I had never seen Draco treat Harry like this before. I suppose he got it from his father.

"No," Mr. Weasley replied simply and through gritted teeth.

Finally Malfoy's eyes met mine. I noticed that his eyes were precisely the same color as Draco's. Funny, I had thought that his grey eyes came from the Black side of his family, considering I knew both Father and Regulus had grey eyes, but I guess I was wrong.

"And you must be Miss Lupin –"

"Black- Lupin," I sneered, my voice more quiet than I was used to. He smirked slightly.

"My apologies, Miss Black-Lupin," he said, adding emphasis on the Black sound in my surname. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or genuinely sorry – if he was at all like his son, it was probably the first. "You know, I've heard all about you," he added.

"I can't say the same," I replied honestly. He laughed lightly.

"I'm not surprised," he said. "From a young age Draco adored me and hated me at the same time. I wouldn't be surprised if he had never mentioned me to you." I blinked, unsure what to say.

"Let me see your neck," he said simply, motioning at me to come out from behind Harry. But Mr. Weasley moved his hand from Harry's shoulder to mine, holding me back. He didn't need to worry – I hadn't planned on letting him see my neck anyways.

I couldn't help but notice how annoyed the Minister was that Malfoy was making "small chat" with us. I knew he really just wanted to piss us off. If he's anything like his son, and I would've bet anything that he was, I knew his real motives.

"We don't need you to make sure her neck is okay," Mr. Weasley said harshly.

"You don't?" Malfoy asked in disbelief, raising an eyebrow.

I swallowed, causing a slight throbbing in my throat.

"We can take care of her just fine, thank you," Mr. Weasley snarled.

"Really?" Malfoy had the exact same expression of disbelief on his face as before. "Doesn't seem like you can to me, being as that happened weeks ago and she is still in pain from it."

Mr. Weasley looked at me, shocked. Obviously he hadn't realized that it had been causing me pain still. I must be a pretty good actor.

But then how did Malfoy know? He hadn't ever even met me before, while Mr. Weasley was one of the closest things I had had to a father growing up.

"If she's in pain, she hasn't said anything about it to me," Mr. Weasley replied, his grip on my shoulder tightening just slightly.

"Really?" Malfoy repeated, raising both of his eyebrows this time and turning his gaze to me. "Why haven't you told anybody?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied simply. Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"Don't lie to me," he said maliciously. "I always know when somebody's lying to me, and I can tell that you are now. Why haven't you told anybody that your neck's been hurting you again?" I stared at him but didn't say anything. I didn't know the answer to that, really.

The silence between the four wizards and I standing there in the hallway was finally broken by Harry.

"Abbey, is he right? Has it been hurting you?" he asked, sounding worried. I couldn't bear to see the smug look in Malfoy's eyes when I admitted it, so I kept my eyes focused on Harry's emerald ones when I nodded slowly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Mr. Weasley asked, his eyes wide.

"I…I don't know…" I said slowly, looking up at him.

I actually did know why I hadn't told them. With everything going on, the Order and the Hearing and Voldemort being back and whatnot, I didn't want to cause more trouble than was necessary. A little pain in my throat was nothing.

"Probably too proud to admit that something so simple was causing her pain," Malfoy said. But, to my surprise, he didn't sneer it as I had expected – he said it as if it were simply a fact.

Maybe that was part of the reason I hadn't told anybody as well. Now that he brought it up, I felt like it was likely.

How did he know me so well after having just met me? Did Draco just talk about me that much to him? – I highly doubted that because of many reasons. Or was he just really intuitive?

For some reason I felt like it was neither.

"I know a spell that can make the bruises and everything go away," Malfoy said when nobody said anything. "If you'd allow me to, that is."

"No, I think we're fine," Mr. Weasley said. I knew how much he hated Malfoy – he probably thought he would kill me or something. I doubted it – he just didn't seem like he was going to, plus the Minister was awkwardly standing right beside him.

"I'm not going to hurt her," Malfoy said. "I wouldn't do that to somebody my son cares so much for. Not to mention I wouldn't do that in front of the Minister of Magic."

At least he didn't say he wouldn't do that at all, because each person in the hall knew that was untrue.

"Just let him, Arthur," Fudge said. "She's still just a little girl; she doesn't deserve to be in pain. Let your pride go for just this once."

I tensed at the words "little girl." I hated being called that. Just because I was small didn't make me a "little girl." But he's the Minister, so I couldn't say much about it to him. Or complain at all, really.

Mr. Weasley sighed heavily. I knew he didn't want Malfoy of all people to fix my neck, but he couldn't deny the Minister or he might loose his job. He was stuck.

"Fine," he said finally, pulling me lightly to the side of Harry to stand directly in front of Malfoy. "But don't you dare hurt her in any way or you'll be sorry."

Fudge obviously didn't like Mr. Weasley saying that, but he didn't say anything about it as Malfoy raised his wand and aimed it at my throat. He muttered a spell under his breath that I didn't catch.

It felt like I could finally breathe again. All the pain in my neck was gone – I couldn't even remember it not hurting before. You know the feeling that a weight was lifted off of somebody's shoulders? It was like that, only on my neck instead of shoulders, and quite literally rather than metaphorically.

My hand shot up to my throat, as if to feel if there were still bruises there even though I knew I couldn't feel them.

But I could tell by the look in Harry's eyes that they were gone.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked Malfoy, still shocked.

"Magic," Malfoy answered vaguely. "Shall we go to your office then, Minister?"

"Certainly," Fudge said. "This way, Lucius."

And they were gone.

"Why wasn't he waiting outside of Fudge's office if they've got business together?" Harry asked suddenly. "What was he doing down here?"

"Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not," Mr. Weasley answered.

As they continued to talk in low voices and Mr. Weasley started back toward the Atrium, I couldn't help but get the feeling that maybe Malfoy hadn't been down there to see if Harry had been expelled or not.

Why would he care about that, anyways?