Chapter Twenty Two- Freedom

January

They had three months to plan.

Hermione paced outside McGonagall's office. She tasted copper and knew she'd bitten her lip so hard she'd drawn blood. It wasn't that three months was too short a timescale; on the contrary, Hermione had owled Harry first thing after breakfast on New Year's Day to tell him about the update. He'd replied within the hour, telling her that he and Ron had been reading through the transcripts of all the Death Eater cases and that three months was still plenty of time and that she shouldn't worry. Hermione had scoffed at that part. They knew her too well, however, for she received another owl only five minutes after the first, carrying a letter from Ron. She could almost hear the exasperation in his voice, calling her a worrywart and telling her to go to library, like she always did when in doubt. It had made her smile, at least, but the smile was too quickly replaced by the gnawing anxiety in her gut.

It was only a week into the New Year, but Hermione had thought about very little else other than Draco's trial. She flushed, feet faltering. Okay. That was a lie. She had thought about a lot more: the colours of the lake; the pale expanse of her arm, without her scar; the softness of his lips; the hardness of his body; the-

-Staircase rotated and Draco stepped out onto the corridor. "All done," he said. "McGonagall said we have to be back by 4. I don't need to go see her, it'll notify her as soon as I'm back on the grounds."

He raised an eyebrow when all she did was stare at him. Hermione cleared her throat, quickly diverting her gaze. "Okay."

They stayed there for a moment.

"Shall we?" asked Draco. She nodded. With a sarcastic flourish, he beckoned for her to lead the way.

Hermione mentally scolded herself. She could feel her blush creep lower, warming her neck and chest. They hadn't spoken very much since that night, over a week ago. If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was avoiding her. Or her, him. It was only in the lessons they shared that she managed to elicit any sort of interaction from him and even then, it was forced or noncommittal. She'd had to arrange this trip to Hogsmeade through their parchment; she'd gotten no reply but made plans anyway, waiting hopefully at the foot of the staircase, left to pray that he would turn up. In the end, he did.

It was only when they were out of the castle and making their way down the wind-swept grounds that Draco spoke to her.

"You haven't told Boy Wonder and his pet Weasel about-?"

Hermione looked at him. They had forgone the Cloak, having no need of it now McGonagall had given them express permission, and whilst it felt more natural to see him beside her, she wished she couldn't. His hands were shoved in his pockets, face screwed up as the wind ripped his scarf from his chin, cheeks frost-bitten and pink, lips chapped and turning blue. Hermione stared at them. About what? She thought. Our kiss? She wondered if he'd say it aloud if she asked him.

But instead, she shook her head and said, "No."

Draco nodded. Hermione buried her face deeper into her own kitted scarf, pretending his sigh of relief was the wind and the twinge in her chest was the cold.

They didn't speak again, walking to Hogsmeade in relative silence. The snow had looked like it was starting to melt, but the night before, it had reinvigorated its efforts, coating the town in a fresh veil. It was still early, with most students not yet out of bed, the sun white on the mountain tops. Hermione walked ahead, holding the door to the Three Broomsticks open for him and Draco gave her wide berth as he passed, muttering a thanks. She pressed her lips into a line and followed him to the back staircase and up into the first room. They didn't bother knocking.

Harry jumped up when he saw her, rushing over to give her a cuddle that seemed to last forever. Hermione felt her eyes grow wet and her throat close up and she clutched him tighter, breathing him in. He was in no hurry to let her go, whether it was because he'd missed her or because he heard the hitch in her breath as she tried to stop herself from crying; either way, she was grateful for it.

He only pulled away when she patted his shoulder clumsily, rubbing her hand in circles over his back. Harry smiled at her. "Happy New Year."

Hermione swallowed thickly. It was a moment before she could get the words out. "Happy New Year, Harry."

Her smile was strained and she couldn't look at Draco behind her.

"Mum missed you," said Ron, coming over to pull her into a big bear hug. Hermione melted into him. He was taller than Harry, longer and thicker arms, warmer and more solid. He smelled like woodsmoke and something sweet. She sighed into his chest. "She kept telling me off for not Apparating to Hogwarts and dragging you back home."

Hermione grinned despite herself. Her voice was muffled. "You can't Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. It's in-"

"Hogwarts: A History," Ron finished for her, flopping his cheek on the top of her head and groaning. "I know. You've only told me a million times."

She pinched his side and he leapt away, offence and mirth laughing in his bright eyes. "Touchy!"

Hermione laughed. She unravelled her scarf, taking off her winter garb because a warmth had settled within her. She realised a moment later how quiet it had gotten.

"Draco." Harry cleared his throat. Scratched the back of his neck. He held out his hand, then seemed to think better of it, and clapped the Slytherin on the shoulder instead. He offered him a smile. "Happy New Year."

Draco's lips were tight but Hermione knew it was genuine when he smiled back. "Happy New Year, Potter."

"Uh, you can call me Harry," he said, laughing slightly.

Draco smirked and shook his head. "You'll always be Potter to me."

"Whatever, Malfoy. Come give us a hand if you're done loitering in the doorway."

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, simply removing his scarf and coat and laying them both over the back of a chair. Hermione noticed then that the room was vastly different from how she remembered it. The boys had been busy; they'd transfigured the bed into a large desk big enough for four people in the centre of the room and each pillow into a cushioned chair. The canvas painting on the far wall had been cleared and instead, there was a cork board, with a few notes and scraps of paper already stuck to it.

"I do hope you plan on putting everything back when you're done," said Hermione, though she was well aware the lightness of her voice gave away how impressed she was with their spellwork.

Ron looked affronted. "What do you take us for, Mione? Do we strike you as people who don't clean up their messes?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and demanded, "Do you not remember any of our time at Hogwarts? The troll? The giant Chess Board? The car with a mind of its own still running about in the Forbidden Forest? The-?"

"Alright!" he cut her off, grinning, hands up in surrender. "We get your point."

"I mean, the car's not really running though, is it," said Harry. "More just spluttering about, running over the odd giant spider-"

She lobbed a pen at his head and he managed to duck just in time for it to sail past his hair. Harry shot her an incredulous look. "I have enough scars on my forehead, don't you think, Hermione? And to answer your question," he continued, sitting down at the desk and leaning back to take them all in. "We've booked out this room for the next three months. Figured we'd be here a lot."

A silence fell over the room that made Hermione cringe.

"Ah," said Ron. The tips of his ears flushed pink. He turned to Draco, who looked like he wanted the desk to somehow become a giant four poster bed again and crush him in the process. "Yeah. Heard about your trial, mate."

Hermione thought it sounded strange to hear Ron call him that. Draco froze. By the time she'd next blinked, he'd shrugged and said, "At least it's not on my birthday anymore."

"It was on your birthday?" exclaimed Ron, leaning back against the wall. He let out a long whistle. "The Wizengamot is ruthless."

"Hopefully not for us," said Hermione hastily, shooting him a glare. The heat of it caused Ron to scramble upright.

"Yeah, no. I mean, they can be ruthless. To those who deserve it. But not you. Not you, because you don't deserve it, so it's fine!" Ron relaxed again, looking somewhat pleased with himself. "No matter how much of a wanker you were in school."

"Ronald!"

Hermione glanced at Draco, cheeks burning, but found his lips twitching slightly. "Thanks, Weasley. I assure you the nostalgia is well reciprocated"

"You're welcome," said Ron gruffly, shrugging his broad shoulders. "And good. Glad to see the world's not gone barking mad."

Hermione glanced despairingly between the two. "Boys!"

"We should probably start soon," said Harry, lips turned up in a grin. "We have a lot to get through."

Harry spread the files out over the desk, and Hermione saw name after name of kids that had been in her Potions class, or that she'd seen on trophies and plaques during detention, or as names on the Marauders' Map. She glanced at Draco, realising these somewhat familiar names to her were likely his friends, family friends, Housemates. He didn't seem to outwardly react, but she knew better than to think he'd let any sign of weakness show; she caught the tell-tale twitch of his jaw and trembling of his fingers, clasped together beneath his sleeves. Hermione turned her attention back to the files in front of her. She followed the Death Eater trials when she could, buying the Daily Prophet weekly and keeping an eye on everything and anything the paper offered, but detail was sparing. The only correlation she had found was that the outcome never looked promising.

"They've already dealt with the senior members of Voldemort's ranks-" Harry began.

Hermione sucked in a breath. It wasn't the name. Fear of the name only increased fear of the thing itself. During the war, they'd gotten so used to not slipping up and saying it that hearing it now startled her. She'd had no reason to say it for the last however many months. She remembered when they had slipped up. Hermione played with her sleeve and waited for her shoulders to relax.

She felt Draco move beside her and then his hand came on hers, squeezing once before dropping away.

"-obviously, the Wizengamot aren't being gentle. Life in Azkaban. Never shorter. According to the files, the Dementors' Kiss was only just ruled out. They voted on it." Harry went pale. "It was rejected by one vote in the end."

"So life was lenient?" Hermione asked. She failed to keep the disgust out of her voice.

Nobody answered.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and continued, "The Chief Warlock had the deciding vote. Ottaline Warbeck."

Ron moved forward then, tapping a photograph on the cork board of an older woman. Her wiry grey hair sparked around her head, eyes blue and bright, face creased with lines. It was a Muggle photograph, Hermione noticed.

"Half-Blood," said Ron. "From a family of Hufflepuffs. Started as an intern to Cornelius Fudge in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, then worked her way up to being a member of the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee. Wrote a few essays about Muggle integration and cohabitation. Became Chief Warlock simply because no one had ever heard of her before and it was rare for a Ministry worker not to be caught up in some secret, illegal dealing. Dad said she's nice, but from the sounds of things, she shares his love for Muggles so I think he's got a soft spot for her."

Harry was nodding along. Hermione glanced between them. "What does this mean for us?"

She felt Draco's eyes on her.

"So far, Warbeck has been the only thing in the way of the calls for more radical sentences," said Harry. "The Ministry is split at the moment between those who want peace and those who want some twisted version of justice. It means quite a lot for us."

Hermione nodded, sitting in the chair opposite him. Harry looked away from her, briefly looking at his hands, where they tapped against the table, and then focusing on Draco.

He said after a moment, "I need you to go over what you remember of that night. To make sure our memories match, and maybe even make it so my account can bolster whatever came before the Astronomy Tower."

"And this will work?" Draco asked.

"They won't use your memory because memories can be tampered with," said Harry, "but I'm an unbiased witness. It should work."

"Hermione and I will go get us all some breakfast," said Ron, skirting around the back of her chair and clasping her shoulder.

Hermione frowned, twisting her neck to look at him then shooting to look at Harry. "What?"

Harry offered her a consolatory smile. "I'm not kicking you out," he said. "I just thought it might be easier if it was just the two of us. You- you don't want to have been there… It's best we relive it ourselves."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Draco wasn't looking at her. She bit her lip. Nodded. "Okay."

They left the room, descending onto the pub floor and weaved through the tables. The Three Broomsticks was slowly filling up, sending out warm breakfasts and hot chocolates and the odd beer for patrons who either didn't know or didn't care that it was only half 9 in the morning. Ron motioned to the barkeep once they reached the bar.

"How was your Christmas?" Hermione asked him. He'd always been tall, but now, she had to crane her neck back to look up into his face.

Ron laughed a little. "Yeah. Good. Just as hectic as usual." His smile flickered and a cloud passed across the blue of his eyes. Hermione swallowed thickly and reached out to take his hand. Ron blinked. "Obviously, still wasn't easy. Not without- well, House seemed quiet is all."

"Yeah. I can imagine."

"Missed you though!" Ron tugged on her hand and pulled her into another cuddle. "Had no one nattering on at me about House Elves and their lack of holiday leave-"

Hermione whacked his chest, but her laugh gave her away. "Oh, shut up!"

Ron let go of her, grinning. The barkeep came over at that point, and they gave their order for four Full English's, three coffees and a tea. Ron told her to put in on his tab.

"How's Malfoy been anyway?" he asked as they waited.

Hermione cast her eyes out over the empty pub. It was already much busier now, scattered with students and villagers alike, many windswept and pink-faced and chattering. "Quiet," she said.

"Probably an understatement," replied Ron.

"It's strange that they've brought the trial forward," said Hermione. She leaned into the bar, arms folded across her chest. "I think it's shaken him."

Ron coughed, scratching his head. "Yeah."

She straightened. "Ronald Weasley..." He tried not to look at her, desperately staring at the barmaid so as to catch her attention and have reason not to answer. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What have you done?"

Ron winced. The struggle between his brain and his mouth finally gave way. "Harry managed to get a meeting with the new Chief Warlock," he began haltingly. Hermione thought she'd stopped breathing. It was suddenly very busy. Very hot. She shook her head. "He told her he was going to testify in Draco Malfoy's case..."

"That's why she moved it forward?" murmured Hermione. "Because of Harry? Harry is the new evidence?"

Ron quickly held his hands up in surrender. "I didn't know! Harry told me he was going to see the Chief Warlock but I swear I didn't know that was why."

"He's given us a ticking time bomb," she said, the worry and anxiety and fury whirling in her stomach, making her feel sick. "Oh God. We have three months-"

Hermione made to turn around and storm back up to the room when Ron grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Ronald Weasley, let go of me!"

"Harry overheard some Members of the Wizengamot talking about Malfoy," said Ron, quick and low in her ear. She heard him swallow. "They're going to make an example out of him, Hermione. I know it feels like we've got no time, but now they've got less. Trust me. Trust Harry. He knows what he's doing."

Hermione stared at him. "Why would they-?"

He scoffed. "Do you seriously have to ask? It's Malfoy. His family was Voldemort's right hand man."

"But he's a child," said Hermione frantically, clutching at his sleeve. "He's just a child-"

"So what, Hermione?" Ron demanded. "What does it matter to them? We were only kids too. We were all just kids. None of us were meant to be in a war but that doesn't matter to them! We never mattered to them. What makes you think they'll give a damn now?"

Hermione stared at him for only a second longer before she turned her face away so he couldn't see her cry. Everything felt to fall to pieces inside of her. She could see Colin Creevey's tiny, lifeless body; Lavender's mangled corpse; Fred. Hermione had always wanted children, ever since her mother had bought her a pretty doll from the charity shop, but sometimes, she could still hear Molly Weasley's scream as she cradled her dead baby to her chest.

She heard him sigh.

"Hermione, I'm sorry-"

Their breakfast came then, and she took the opportunity to take one of the trays and say, "Come on, before it gets cold."

Ron didn't comment that it had just come out of the kitchen, taking the other tray and following her back upstairs.

"We bring food," he announced after they'd knocked. They set the trays down on the table after Harry moved the files to make some room. Hermione silently sat in her chair, staring at her plate. She felt something touch her hand, and jumped, before realising Draco had breached the distance between them to brush his thumb across her knuckles. He was deathly pale, dark smudges under his pink-rimmed eyes. She twisted her hand to thread her fingers through his.

They ate their breakfast, flicking through the files, making idle chat; Hermione nearly choked on her toast when Harry deigned to tell Draco about the troll incident in their first year. Draco had laughed so hard she feared his coffee might explode out his nose. It was her turn to laugh when she reminded them all of the time Draco had been too chicken to meet them for their duel (-"a stupid idea, honestly! What were you trying to do- get yourselves expelled?!"), and the boys had gotten into an argument over the hypothetical result of a fight that had never happened.

When their laughter had subsided and their plates had been emptied, they each took a pile of files, either on the cases or the members of the Wizengamot, highlighting and scribbling anything that jumped out at them. They stayed like that for hours, slowly filling up the corkboard to the point that Ron had to put an extending charm on it. It was the alarm Hermione had set on her wand that ripped them out of their productivity, sending bubbles over the table and up, into the air.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, startling Harry, across from her.

"What's that?" asked Ron.

Hermione glanced at Draco. "We need to be back before 4."

"McGonagall's orders," added Draco wryly, getting to his feet. He rubbed his eyes. Stretched. The sleeve of his shirt fell back, and Harry noticed.

They said their goodbyes. Hermione hugged both of her boys, holding them tightly, committing their warmth and homeliness to memory. Draco shook their hands. As they made to leave, Harry grabbed her elbow, holding her back, murmuring in her ear, "Where's his Mark?"

"What?"

He looked at her impatiently. "You know what. His Mark."

"He has some gel. To cover it."

Harry stared at her, and she couldn't tell if the look in his eyes was worrying or careful. She used to be able to read her best friend like a book but ever since their time on the run, even as early as their Fifth Year, Hermione found that sometimes, despite the love in his eyes and the familiarity of his lopsided grin, Harry could still be a stranger to her. She wished he was still as easy to decipher, but when she frowned at him in question, he just shook his head and let her go.

Hermione had almost forgotten that the world outside was cold and ravaging and ruthless, momentarily blown away by the wind that leapt up when they stepped outside. She tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, trapping her curls in it so they couldn't whip her face and become even more uncontrollable than they already were. Draco was quiet beside her.

"It's funny," she said, breaking the silence as they trudged up to the school. "Just when you think the world is unrecognisable, you boys start arguing and I feel like nothing has changed."

Draco scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Granger. Everything has changed."

Hermione frowned and muttered, "That's a slight exaggeration-"

"Harry saw everything."

She almost stopped walking, but forced her feet to stumble on because Draco never even faltered. Hermione didn't question his use of Harry's first name, merely licked her cracked lips and said, "What?"

"He saw everything that night," said Draco. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, eyes tracing the cobbles. The disgust was like poison on his lips and he was trying to spit it out. "On the Astronomy Tower."

Hermione swallowed. "Then that's good, isn't it? It means we can use him as a witness."

Draco didn't reply. She dared to look at him. His jaw was set, his face tight.

"Draco?"

They were nearly at Hogwarts. He didn't look at her, his eyes catching on some cloud in the sky, or maybe some faint star he was desperately trying to wish on. Hermione glanced up too, and she caught sight of the crescent moon, still hanging above them.

"Do you want to go for a fly?"

She nearly tripped, head snapping to look at him. "Sorry?"

A faint smile cracked his lips. "I didn't swear at you, Granger."

Hermione blinked. "I-" His shoulders had relaxed at the thought of flying, the smile playing loosely at his lips as the wind played with his hair. "Sure. Just don't drop me."

A quick burst of laughter escaped from him. Draco finally looked at her and smirked. "I wouldn't dream of it, Granger."

When they got to the castle, he told her to wait whilst he collected his broom, and Hermione did indeed wait… until he had rounded the corner, before she ran her hands through her hand and started to panic. Why on earth had she agreed to go flying with Draco sodding Malfoy of all people!? She'd never even gotten on a broomstick with Ron! As if he knew she was talking herself out of it and into a frenzy, Draco appeared only a few minutes after he'd disappeared, offering her his hand (she took it without thinking) and pulling her to the Quidditch Pitch. Hermione trembled and his hand was warm in hers when he squeezed her fingers.

Draco only stopped when he was in the middle of the pitch. He mounted the broom, ran a hand through his hair, stopped and grinned at her. "Hop on, Granger."

Hermione scrambled, threw her bag over her head to secure it, tightened her scarf, winced, before she climbed on in front of him. Immediately, Draco wrapped an arm around her waist, clutching the handle with the other hand. He leaned forward, pressing her into the broom. She only had time to suck in a breath before they were off-

She screamed. Hermione could hear Draco's chuckle, deep and throaty, in her ear, before it was ripped away into the sky. "I've got you, Granger," he murmured, lips brushing her skin. She gripped his hand tightly.

"Oh God," whispered Hermione, eyes screwed shut. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"Granger. For once in your life, stop thinking and just feel-"

She wrenched her eyes open. Another scream nearly left her throat but she swallowed it just in time. Hermione slowly relaxed, leaning back against Draco's chest. They were up in the clouds. The sky wasn't blue, but grey and blinding white, shot through with the swell of a storm and the encroaching evening. She could see the turrets of the castle like they were pebbles on the ground, spotted with white, growing smaller and smaller the higher they ventured. The frozen lake was a puddle, then a spec. Hermione felt the rush of the wind envelop her, thread through her hair. It made her eyes water. It was terrifying, and reminded her of why she refused to ride a broom in the first place, but it was also exhilarating, thrilling, freedom embodied.

They started their descent all too soon. It was past 4 and there was only so much cloud they could cover within Hogwarts' grounds whilst the winter sun strained in the sky. Still, Hermione was grateful when they landed, and Draco's feet touched the ground, bringing them to a halt. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, falling back against him. Draco chuckled.

"As bad as you thought?" he asked. His hand, around her waist, had slipped past her coat at some point to tighten his grip, and was drawing lazy circles through her shirt. Hermione felt like she would melt in the warmth of him.

She nodded, eyes closed. "Worse."

He scoffed, and Hermione felt cold all of a sudden. She shuffled away, clambering off. Her legs were shaky. The ground felt unfamiliar and hard under her feet.

Draco stopped smiling. He swung his leg over, throwing his broom over his shoulder. Tossed her a short, "Well, I'll be seeing you. Thanks for the flight, Granger," before turning on his heel.

Hermione stared at his back. She floundered. Her heart was still racing, lodged in her mouth. Her skin was prickled with the cold. Her lips blue and gaping. She nearly started after him but dug her heels into the pitch. She could not restrain the question quite so easily.

"Do you regret it?"

The words were wrenched from her lips as though the wind had plucked them out and carried them far away. Hermione saw him freeze, the ripple of tension in his shoulders, the stillness of his face. He looked back at her carefully.

"Do I regret what?" asked Draco.

She lowered her eyes. "You know what."

The wind dropped, cold creeping along her arms the longer they stood there. The adrenaline in her heart was dulling.

"No," he said, not once looking away from her. "Do you?"

Hermione felt her arms erupt in Goosebumps and she rubbed at them through her coat, hugging herself. She shook her head and her curls tickled her cheeks. "No."

She saw the curve of his throat clench as he swallowed. Draco nodded once. His smile was a bit more genuine now, a bit softer, like it had been smudged by the clouds. "See you tomorrow, Granger."

Hermione watched him leave, the freedom she had felt in the sky drying, cracking, falling to pieces. She wondered if that's how Draco felt, every time he left the castle and returned, after he'd kissed her and tasted the fireworks of liberation, before his life had been put on a timer.

They had three months.

She had three months to save Draco Malfoy.

AN: Bit of plot, bit of fluff. Sorry it wasn't the most interesting chapter- plot is a pain. The trial is soon…