The portraits were empty, something he had only ever seen twice during his time at Hogwarts. Once, when Sirius Black broke into the school, and the second time, the night Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore. He couldn't forget it.
Draco's fingernails dug into his palms as he clutched his wand. For the first time in almost a year, there was nobody telling him what to do and nobody watching him.
He could feel his brain buzzing with the excitement of it. The fork in the road. On one side, he could see a clear path. One where he followed Hermione Granger, of all people, into whatever was happening downstairs. The Great Hall. A room full of people who couldn't stand his family, no matter what Potter had told the Ministry or the press.
The other thing that kept him from moving was fear, plain and simple. Had he ever been able to run into something like this—an attack, an unknown, a void—without someone pushing him along? He wasn't like Granger. He knew it. The sorting hat had known it. Albus fucking Dumbledore had known it.
He could still feel Granger's hand on his wrist and the heat that had come off of her fingers. To his relief, his Dark Mark looked unchanged—just a pinkish scar, something he only felt burn when his mind was playing tricks on him. But what if Potter had fucked something up after all and You-Know-Who had decided to make his entrance in the bloody Great Hall? After all this, that would be an awful way to die. He could feel his feet pulling him away.
Maybe he could go back into the classroom. Wait until he could hear the commotion subside. Close his eyes and listen to the wind rattle against the castle's high windows and pretend he was just in class, waiting for a lecture to end…
He could hear footsteps coming from the direction Granger disappeared to. He snapped open his eyes and raised his wand.
"Oh, bloody fuck," a voice rang out. He squinted. Someone at the end of the hall surveyed the two bodies on the floor. She looked at Draco, her eyes searching his before looking at his wand. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and there was an odd tear at her shoulder. He dropped his wand with a clatter and his hands shot up, palms facing out.
"I was just checking on them," he croaked, his throat feeling drier than usual. He blinked, hard. "I found them like this."
"Accio wand," she said, and his wand jumped into her hand.
"Fair enough," he muttered. "Are you coming from the feast?"
She ignored this and hurried towards York's crumpled form. "Are they alright?" she put a hand on York's shoulder.
"I think they're dead," he said quietly, feeling awful for saying it and feeling even worse for saying it to a random student. "Do you know what's going on? Were you in the Great Hall?" he asked desperately. She looked familiar, though he couldn't place her. A Slytherin, maybe? Her name might have started with an A…
"Dead?" the girl stood quickly, as though she had been doused in ice water. "And you found them here? I know who you are," and as she said this, something seemed to dawn on her. "Petrificus Totalus," she commanded, and Draco stiffened, falling over, hard, on his left forearm.
"Mmmmm!" he yelled, his jaw frozen in place.
"Enough," an older woman's voice came from the hallway. From his vantage point, he could see someone with a cap of silvery hair, in Ministry uniform, a wand raised. She waved it, and Draco felt the hex slip off of him. He heaved a sigh as his body relaxed. He stayed on the floor as the words boomed over him. "Mr. Malfoy, you'll be coming with me."
An arm hoisted him up and he stumbled up, his legs unsteady from the body-bind spell. "My name is Elena Doge, and I'm the head of Auror division. Bardsley's alarm went off and we rushed over," her grip on him was firm. "Is it alright if we ask you to come in for some questioning, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Fine," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Can I have—"
"Miss, thank you for your assistance—his wand, please," Doge held her hand out and the girl dropped Draco's wand obediently into the waiting palm. "Perhaps it would be best if you went and joined the other students."
"What's happened downstairs?" Draco demanded, watching the girl hurry away, her eyes averted, though she stole one last glance at them as she disappeared around the bend in the hall.
Doge turned pale at this. She kept her gaze forward as she walked quickly down the hall. "It seems that your father has attacked Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy, so you understand why I need you to cooperate with us. You'll be able to notify your legal counsel shortly."
"What—?"
"We can talk later, Mr. Malfoy. Let's focus on getting out of this castle. For your own safety."
He felt a heat rise up in his throat and tried to remember the last time he had seen his father—not today. Yesterday? The day before? The days blended together. Sometimes he could hear the creak of the floorboards in the hallway as he pored over his notes on the upcoming trial. The heavy footfalls gave Lucius away, but nothing more than that, and Draco would put his quill down and wonder if he'd hear a knock at his door, but he would hear nothing instead, only the reminder that they were both alive together in that moment, the sound fading out of his head and into the dark open spaces of the place he called home.
THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC v LUCIUS MALFOY, CASE No. 29345851 TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW OF DRACO MALFOY
ELENA DOGE: Mr. Malfoy, how do you take your tea?
DRACO MALFOY: It doesn't matter. Black is fine.
OPAL DUBOSE: A bit of sugar for myself.
DOGE: Alright. Everyone, may I have the room, please? Thank you. Mr. Malfoy, I know your rights have been read to you already.
DUBOSE: We're ready to begin.
DOGE: Okay. Okay, then. We have a lot of people we're speaking with today, so it's not just you, and I'd like to get through this as efficiently as we can. Do you have any questions for me?
MALFOY: Yes. Who are you, exactly?
DOGE: I'm the head of the Auror department. We've actually met a few times. I was on the security detail for your parents' house for a time. Lovely birds out front.
MALFOY: I see.
DOGE: This is indeed the first time you've been outside of Malfoy Manor in the past year?
MALFOY: Correct.
DUBOSE: This can be confirmed with Ministry records as well.
DOGE: Your exams, then—how did you come to obtain permission to take them at Hogwarts?
MALFOY: Isn't that under your—the Ministry's jurisdiction?
DOGE: Yes, but I'm wondering how you decided to go forward with it. When did you decide to take your N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts?
MALFOY: They don't let you take the exams anywhere but Hogwarts. It has to be administered at the school.
DOGE: So you were taking your exams when the attack took place.
MALFOY: Yes. I presume. I was nowhere near the Great Hall.
DOGE: Oh, thank you. Yes. Here's your tea.
MALFOY: Smashing.
DUBOSE: Thank you.
DOGE: And then you found Barclay Bardsley and Marianne York?
MALFOY: Yes. The proctor went outside of the classroom after I heard a loud noise. And then a spell hit her from the hallway. The Auror was already on the floor.
DOGE: And where were you?
MALFOY: In the classroom.
DOGE: How many paces away from the doorway, would you say? … Mr. Malfoy?
MALFOY: I was seated at my desk. I couldn't see through the doorway.
DOGE: I'll make a note of that. Had your father spoken to you at all about the fact that you were going to Hogwarts today? Did he seem the same as always today?
MALFOY: No. He was asleep when I left this morning.
DOGE: Nothing out of the ordinary in the days previous between you two?
DUBOSE: The boy has been on house arrest with his family for a year, that in of itself is already out of the ordinary.
MALFOY: No.
DOGE: I wonder if you could tell me if your father ever spoke of coming to Hogwarts.
DUBOSE: My client has already told you he did not know what was happening today. Is Mr. Malfoy required to atone for the alleged sins of his father?
MALFOY: I can answer that.
DUBOSE: I hardly see how this is a necessary line of questioning.
DOGE: Mr. Malfoy, would you still like to answer?
MALFOY: No.
DOGE: No you wouldn't, or no, your father never spoke of coming to Hogwarts?
DUBOSE: Mr. Malfoy—
MALFOY: No, he has not said that.
DOGE: How about an attack of some kind?
MALFOY: No.
DOGE: Mr. Malfoy, I want to be clear about something before we move forward. If you're able to provide us with valuable information, it may mitigate your circumstances.
MALFOY: And my father's?
DOGE: I'm speaking solely of your case at the moment.
DUBOSE: You're giving us a plea deal? Now? Of all days?
DOGE: The circumstances have changed.
DUBOSE: Then I'll be conferring with my client about this in private.
DOGE: Fine. That's noted. And let me try to remember from my school days, forgive me, but aren't parts of the N.E.W.T.s done without wands?
MALFOY: Yes, but—
DOGE: Yet you were found with your wand on you. Did you take this from Marianne York's robes?
MALFOY: Yes, but —
DUBOSE: I think you should allow him to answer.
MALFOY: The other student with me had gone to check on what was happening in the hallway, and she took their wands—
DOGE: Hold on, what other student? Someone else was there?
MALFOY: A classmate of mine was also taking the exam.
DOGE: I've got my notes in front of me and it says that the Ministry only authorized your examination. You were found alone.
MALFOY: I'm shocked to hear that the Ministry isn't on top of its affairs. I was with Granger until she decided to dash off.
DUBOSE: I assume I don't need to remark that my client's tone was sarcastic for part of that sentence?
DOGE: It's noted. A friend of yours?
MALFOY: Granger? No.
DOGE: Hold on, Granger? Hermione Granger?
MALFOY: The very same.
DOGE: Ashmi, do you mind coming in here? I need you to locate Hermione Granger for us. We'll need to speak with her immediately. Mr. Malfoy, will Miss Granger corroborate what you're telling me now?
DOGE: Mr. Malfoy, could you answer the question?
MALFOY: How would I know?
DOGE: You don't know her well?
MALFOY: No, I don't. When can I see my father?
DOGE: I'm afraid not any time soon. He's being held. Maximum security.
MALFOY: In Azkaban?
DOGE: No, where did you hear that?
MALFOY: I just assumed.
DOGE: He's in a secure room within the Ministry. Azkaban isn't in service anymore. Reports from the Auror detail surrounding your house mention that you can often be seen awake at all hours of the night. Are you having trouble sleeping?
MALFOY: What?
DOGE: Shall I repeat the question?
MALFOY: No, I heard you, I just had no idea the Ministry was spying on me. Why are you asking me this?
DOGE: We need to rule out all possibilities. Is it true that you've been sleepwalking, Mr. Malfoy?
DUBOSE: This is hardly relevant.
DOGE: Memory loss accompanies sleepwalking—
MALFOY: What, you think I've forgotten if my father tried to plan an attack on Hogwarts with me? If the Ministry's keeping such a close eye on me then why don't you keep your—
DUBOSE: I think we're done for today.
It was raining, the first heavy rainfall they had had in several weeks, and this time it was accompanied by a sticky humidity that Draco only barely registered. When was the last time he had felt rain? He tilted his head up, smelling the damp air.
"Mr. Malfoy," the new Auror escorting him to his house called out. She looked grave. She was another nameless face, someone he didn't recognize. "This way, please."
He sighed. He trudged up to the path that led to the gates of Malfoy Manor. The woman gestured for him to enter.
"I think I know the way to my own home," he said coldly.
If the woman was insulted, her expression remained unchanged. "I have to escort you to the door, Mr. Malfoy," she said briskly. "Doctor's orders."
He rolled his eyes, already passing her, his boots digging into the mud. When he reached the end of the long pathway, his hair was drenched, and he could feel the cold seeping into his socks. But he knew he would first have to contend with his mother.
"Draco!" a voice came from somewhere in the house. He looked up. His mother was bounding down the staircase in her pajamas, a matching set of purple satin. In the darkness of the foyer, they looked starless and black, the luxurious material taking in all the light. He put a hand out. "Please, mother, I'm fine," he shut the door behind him. The metal tracking bracelet on his wrist vibrated against him, turning cool to the touch, and then back to his body temperature. The Ministry wasn't taking any chances. Outside the door, he could hear the telltale pop of the Auror Disapparating.
"I can't believe they detained you," she scowled. "They didn't tell me until you were released!"
"I'm fine. Have you spoken to father?"
His mother froze, her distorted expression contorting into a scowl or a cry, he couldn't tell. "They wouldn't let me. This is unlike him, Draco. I haven't any idea—"
He shrugged off his cloak, leaving it in a puddle of wet along with his bags. "Have you even spoken to him before today?" he demanded. He couldn't remember the last time his parents were in the same room.
"Of course," she said. She glanced down at his wet things, and he knew it bothered her. But he glared at her, daring her to make a fuss.
"Then why didn't he tell you that he was going attack the castle?" he snapped, making his way up the staircase, gripping the banister tight.
"I wish I could tell you, darling," her voice broke. "I don't know what your father was thinking. He hasn't seemed any different. I'm in absolute shock, but if you had something to do with this —"
"Me?" Draco blinked. Why did everyone think he had something to do with it? A chill ran down his spine. Was there something he was missing?
"You were always so willing to do what the Dark Lord asked of you, even when you were a boy," she wiped at her tears. "I wondered if—"
"Do you think I would do something so stupid when our family is already in jeopardy?" he snapped. How little did his family know him?
"I'm going to bed," he said, reaching the top of the stairs. His mother was still in the foyer, staring up at him in the dim light.
"Draco, wait—"
"DON'T," he yelled, his hands shaking. He took a deep, steadying breath and unclenched his fists. "I can't believe you would accuse—don't you think I've learned my lesson?"
"Darling, darling, I know you're trying to make things right—" she followed him up the stairs, her hair coming loose from its low knot.
He had never felt so angry. He felt almost as he had felt during his sixth year, when all of his limbs felt as though they were being pulled in different directions by Snape, his family, the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore. He swiped at his cheek, his face wet with sweat, rain, and tears.
"Someone's a liar," he said, his voice hoarse. "Father's lying to both of us or you're lying to me. And I won't do it anymore," he shook his head violently, the rain drops spattering them both. "Do you know why I'm not going to prison like—like him?" he couldn't even bear to call Lucius his father. "Because they decided that I was a child, radicalized by my parents. My parents!" he spat.
She snapped to attention. "We did everything to protect you!" she snapped. "If only you knew what we did to keep you alive!"
"Oh, yes, the vow with Snape," he said. "He wasn't even on our side."
"Whether or not Severus was a blood traitor—"
"OH, WILL YOU GIVE IT A REST?" he shouted. Inexplicably, he had his wand out. His face was dry now. The fact that such a thing mattered to his mother felt like a waste of the year that they had spent behind the walls of their house. "THERE ARE NO BLOOD TRAITORS, MOTHER! SNAPE WAS A FUCKING HALF BLOOD ANYWAY, AND I DON'T CARE IF HE WERE HALF GIANT—"
She raised her hands in surrender, the tears flowing freely from her eyes now. "Draco, please. Y-you're s-so young. By the time I was your age, I was engaged to your father. Your life was supposed to be different. We did you a disservice, letting the Dark Lord do such a thing to you—"
"You can't even say it."
She shook her head. "We will figure this out."
At long last, Draco could feel his heart rate slowing. "Mother, what you did at the end of the Final Battle—"
She put her hand up, her eyes shut tight as though she were in pain. "I've asked you not to speak of that. We are are a traditional wizarding family," she snapped. "The Malfoy name—"
But Draco didn't hear what the Malfoy name was, because he had already shut the door behind him, locking himself in his room. He was alone once more, the tracking bracelet trembling against his shaking hands.
