Chapter 36
Right. I'm sorry this has taken me so long, but so many things have been happening to me. . . * sigh * anyway, my apologises for any glitches in the officialdom in the court scene, I have no idea. . . they just put me straight in the cells. . . Quarles the butler belongs to Priestess of Avalon, I am merely borrowing him. . .as I am merely boring Simpy from Naomi. Thanks, as ever to my reviewers and beta esp. Priestess of Avalon, Blonde Ditz, Hannakin, Ambrosius, Pervert Bitch, Audrey (for being so nice!) and all the rest, who I can't remember right now, due to a terrible memory. . .Alysun.
Too Late.
Empty. At the moment. The stage, with its single, metal chair, was deserted, as was the opposite podium. The seats that lined and filled the greyness were unoccupied. The underground chamber was cold and shadowy, lit only by flaming wall torches that flickered as the doors opened. The big, high security doors admitted two tall men, led by the short, irate figure of Cornelius Fudge. Fudge was talking in his sharp, impatient manner, shattering the silence like a porcelain figure dropped on a hard wood floor. The room was familiar with the presence of the tall, ageing figure to Fudge's left; Albus Dumbledore. he used be in there a lot. . . The other was new. . .
~ * ~
". . .right, the trial will start in half an hour from now, are all your witnesses and speaker ready Dumbledore? Good. . . I really shouldn't be involved in things like court cases, but as it is. . .yes, well. Judge, you ready? The podium alright for you there? Good. The jury is waiting off in the little side room over there, so that's fine. . .the press will be arriving soon. . ." Fudge's voice echoed hollowly around the room, as did the footsteps of the three men. Time passed, and the room started to fill up. . .first came the reporters, filling the front three rows. . .then the court artists with their enchanted equipment, then, finally, the rest. A selection of people who were thought to be fit to watch. On the first balcony, were the witnesses, Madeline Harlington, Albus Dumbledore, and Hermione Granger in the defence. Opposing them were Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy and Quarles, the Malfoy (human) butler. A house elf, Simpy by name, was also supposed to be standing, but no-one could find her anywhere. Hatred ran pure in the eyes of both Malfoys as Dementors led Snape onto the stage and onto the chair. Magical ropes sprung from nowhere and tied the slender, gaunt figure down firmly, and the Dementors backed out of the light into the shadows. The now fully assembled audience fell into a watchful silence.
It was amazing, Dumbledore observed, how a man with accusations of murder and rape hanging over him, could look so calm and so composed. . .
And indeed, he did. Admittedly, even after a short stay in Azkaban, he looked thinner, more tired than before. Despite this, his eyes. . .Eyes were always the first thing to show the horrors of the Dementors. After all, they are acclaimed to be the windows to the soul. But Snape's. . .they showed no more, no less than they ever did. It was quietly disturbing. He sat up straight in the chair, head held high in defiance of his accusers. Dumbledore caught his eye, and Severus replied, maintaining eye contact, though his face showed nothing. What was he thinking?
Draco sat up in the balconies, also watching Snape. How could he look so cold and untouched? Part of him marvelled, whilst the other twisted and writhed in soul consuming hatred. This man. . .he had loved his father, then himself. . .and then killed his father. His mother had convinced him of this, whispering her words of sweet poison into his listening ear, when he had told her what Snape had said. What was he thinking?
Why were Snape and Dumbledore staring at each other so intently? What did they know? Paranoia coursed through her like a drug, turning her blood cold. How had Snape guessed that she had killed him? The bastard. . .the utter, utter bastard. . .why couldn't he keep his filthy hands off her men, the fucked up, unnatural queer that he was. . . What was he thinking?
Hermione also sat in the balcony, next to Dumbledore and a tall dark haired, grey eyed woman who she had never seen before. Further along the row were McGonagall, Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint. She was also watching Snape. He's so composed. . . I wonder what he's really feeling? Her brow creased with worry. Why had Dumbledore picked her, of all people? Why not one of the Slytherins? He was, after all, their Head of House. . . She bit her bottom lip and ran through what she knew she must say. Deep, calming breaths, Hermione, deep, calming breathes. . . What was he thinking?
The voice of the judge broke through the thoughts of the gathering, and started the trail.
"Severus Cydas Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, you have been accused of firstly the murder of Lucius Slazar Malfoy, and then the rape of his son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. To the murder of Lucius Malfoy, do you plead guilty, or not guilty?" "Not guilty." "To the rape of Draco Malfoy, do you plead guilty or not guilty?" "Not guilty."
The courtroom was silent. The only other time the courtroom had felt this stony, morbidly interested silence, was at the trial of Barty Crouch. Not even then. . .
The trial began.
~ * ~
First came the murder trial, started off by Narcissa's statement. "Well, it was dark. The Manor tends to be at night, but Lucius's study was always brightly lit. . . and anyway, it was darker than usual. So, I was walking down the passageway, to go and say goodnight to Lucius, and when I opened the door, there he was! Dead!" Her eyes were opened wide in pretty horror, innocent shock. It was almost comic. ". . ." she opened her mouth, but no sound was emitted. She tried again, and succeeded. "So I sent for the doctor immediately, even though I knew that he was. . .he was. . ." she choked and broke down in a flood of tears.
"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," the dry voice of the judge broke through. " Quarles, please tell the courtroom what you saw that evening."
"Yes milord. It was an ordinary evening as far as I was concerned. After clearing away the evening meal, I went up to my rooms, to wait for the Master to ring for his evening drink of brandy. However, I was called down to the kitchens by one of the house elves, to fetch a tray from one of the upper most shelves. As I walked down, I noticed a tall, dark haired man entering the Master's study. I thought nothing more of this, as it was nothing to do with me. After fetching the tray, I returned to my room and continued waiting to be called. When it turned eleven, I went to bed, as told to on prior instruction," the man said. He was impossibly average. . .average height, average weight, average eye colour, average voice. . . though his eyes were slightly too close together.
"Thank you, Quarles." There was a pause while the judge shuffled his notes. He turned to Snape, who had been listening impassively throughout. "Professor Snape, would you please recount your evening to the courtroom."
"Certainly, milord," Snape's voice was dry and cordial. And perfectly calm.
"It was rather uneventful for the best part. After lessons ended, I did marking, for about three hours or so. . .and then started planing the next days lessons. That took me until about nine o'clock. At nine, I put the ingredients needed for the next day ready, and read until about quarter to eleven. At that time, I was disturbed by someone knocking on my door. I opened it to see one of the house elves, with a letter. I took the letter and dismissed the elf. The letter was concerning Lucius death; from Narcissa. It was quite simple. It said something along the lines of; Dear Professor Snape, I am sorry to inform you that my dear husband, Lucius Malfoy, has been found to be sadly deceased. It appears to have been murder.
It was signed by Narcissa, and written in her handwriting. It self destructed almost as soon as I had finished reading it. . .About ten minutes after receiving the letter, Draco Malfoy came to me, in considerable distress; he had also been notified of the tragedy," Snape finished. He had maintained perfect eye contact through out and hadn't wavered once. . .What was he thinking? What was he going through in his mind? His face told nothing. "Thank you," the judge said again, and referred to his notes. "At this point, we would usually have a witness of this, but there is no-one other than the house elf. . .who has seemingly disappeared from the face of the planet. . ." he looked up at Snape over his glasses, eyebrows raised inquiringly. Snape stared back, with mild curiosity. "Really? How. . .inconvenient," he said. The judge gave him a sharp look, and then returned to his notes. "Yes, very. . ."he muttered. "Professor, your alibi is far from waterproof. ..the is no way of knowing that you are telling the truth. Mrs Malfoy has the backing of a reliable family butler. Have you anything to say in which to defend yourself at this point?" Snape paused. ". . .Only one. May I draw attention to the fact that is a family butler? Quarles has been with the family for years, and is devote to their cause. . .I believe that it is perfectly possible for him to be lying to cover up Mrs Malfoy. I was nowhere near the Manor that night." The judge nodded as the jury scribbled down notes. "Very good." He turned back to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy. Why do you think that Professor Snape, a man who has gained much respect over the years, would want to murder your husband, of whom he has not been in contact with in many years?" Narcissa flushed. This was it. Her moment. Her plan, her masterpiece was swung into play. . . "Yes, your honour. . . My husband and the Professor used to be very good friends in their school days, and met up again, many years later. . .and came, unknown to me, to back to the Manor. Lucius offered him a room for the night, which he took up. And then. . .and then later that night. . ." he voice faltered. She could feel Snape's eyes boring into her, mocking her, daring her to carry on. . .she took a deep breath. "And then he seduced my husband!" People stared. Quick Quote Quills went mad. The whisperings and muttered conversations that filled the chamber were deafening, and burned Dumbledore's ears. What a liar this woman is, he thought, mildly. Hermione stared. What?! Snape and Lucius Malfoy and then Draco? Her brow furrowed as she thought. The outburst settled down as the judge banged his hammer. "That's enough," he called irately. "Mrs Malfoy, continue if you will. Thank you." She looked at Snape, who stared back at her. He blinked, but didn't avert his gaze. She could feel it burning into her even after she looked away. "What happened that night, I don't know, and don't wish to know. . .but working some dark magic I don't understand, he managed to persuade my husband. . .to. . .to carry on with him. . .and have an affair!" He voice clogged with real tears. Wiping them away impatiently, she carried on, talking over the noise. "And then, and then, before Draco started school, they stopped. I found out all this from my husband about three months ago. . .he told me everything, and agreed the he would never, ever go back to Snape. . .he wrote him a letter telling him so! I think, I'm almost certain, I KNOW that it was Snape. . . letting his jealousy run away with him. . ." She wasn't looking at the judge any more as she talked, but glowering down at the chained man below her. He stared back calmly. Time froze as they sat there. . . And broke by the judge who was seemingly oblivious to the tension that filled the air. "Thank you. Professor, what do you have to say to this?" Snape nodded, in the judge's direction, but continued to stare at Narcissa.
"There is no denying that me and Lucius were lovers for a long while. . .(more pen scratching and muttering from the audience). . .though some things in the lady's story are astray. For example, I did not seduce Lucius in any manner of means. He came to my room at the Manor late at night, and if anything, seduced me. And also, while I received a letter from him declaring his sudden wishes to go straight, I believe it to be forged. After Draco was born, we saw less of each other, both of us agreeing that it would be stupid to risk so much. Two years before Draco entered Hogwarts, we put everything on hold during Draco's education; it would have been far too risky. We were planning to carry on after Draco had left," Snape said, not moving his gaze from the hard glare of Narcissa. If he could hear the shock of the room, he didn't care. "He would never have gone straight. Not according to anything he said or did in our absences. . .he sent me two letters, almost like reminders, to me, both declaring his desire to see me again. And though I received this last letter, I refuse to accept it to be genuine. . .and even if it is real, then I was never driven into wanting to kill Lucius. . ." he drew to a close. There was no sound in the courtroom.
Wow, thought Hermione.
Even the judge appeared to notice the need for a quick silence to think, as he took a moment to gather his wits and move on. "Mrs Malfoy? Have you anything more to add?" She narrowed her eyes at Snape and said "yes," defiantly. She wasn't about to lose this to sentiments. "But you don't deny you. . .you carried on with Lucius?" she hissed. "My HUSBAND! The father of my only son, gay? I don't think so! You're a Potions Master. . .who's saying you didn't brew up some wicked concoction to obtain your goal? Hmmm? Lucius admitted everything to me! Everything! He said he would never leave me again!" she drew a ragged breath. Damn it all, her mascara was starting to run. . ."He sent that letter in all honesty. . .he meant every word. I saw him write it and then watched him send it to you. I was there," she said, more calmly, talking directly at Snape. He shrugged. "Maybe so. I wasn't there, so I don't know. All I know is that it seems highly out of character for Lucius. And if he did, it seems maybe inevitable. I see no reason to become angry over something I cannot control. And, I assure you I used no potions on him. . .without his consent, at any rate," Snape rationalised. She stared. "Do you have anything more to say, Mrs. Malfoy?" "No, your honour, "she whispered, not tearing her eyes from the seated figure in front of her. "Other than this; while he bats down my statements with such ease, does it make him innocent? He used to be a Death Eater, he's an accomplished liar." She sat back in her chair, self backed and righteous, her final trump played. The court room went berserk, talking, hurried conversations, quill's scratching on scraps of parchment, cameras clicking like mad. Dumbledore rose from his seat hurriedly, anxious to undo what had been tied, before it became implanted in people's minds. "Your honour, if I may? It is true enough that Severus Snape was accused of being a Death eater, but nothing was ever proved. Also, one question. . .how does Narcissa know of this? It is in the records, but in the highly confidential section," he said, and returned to his seat, hoping that that would be enough. More mutterings and the sound of quills scratching lines through previous notes, and re-writing them. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Mrs Malfoy, if you would answer the question?" the judge intervened. She nodded. "My husband was in the Ministry for many years, and heard it as a rumour, and then found that it was true," she explained. "Sorry? He found that what was true?" the judge asked dryly. "Please be more specific in your answers, Mrs Malfoy." She blushed. "That he was accused, your honour," she said, reluctantly. Damn Albus Dumbledore. . . "Thank you. And do try not to make wild, unfounded accusations in future, we want an unbiased jury here. . ." She blushed again. "Professor Snape, is that all?" he asked. "Not quite, your honour. . ." Snape said. "Another question, though it is more rhetorical than anything. I am a Potions Master, as Mrs Malfoy was kind enough to point out before. . .and Lucius Malfoy was found stabbed to death. Why would I stab him, when it would be so much easier to administer poison? I know his habits well enough to know how and when." He shrugged again, hindered slightly from his binds. "Then again, why would I want to kill him at all?" he stopped suddenly, looking as though he had cut himself off from saying something that he shouldn't. The judge nodded and looked to Narcissa for a reply. She just shook her head and left it. Looking slightly relieved, the judge nodded his head. "Right, this has gone on long enough for now. An hour break for lunch, and the jury will be asked to discuss and make up their minds. During that time, we may as well continue with the next case, with the next jury." He banged his hammer. "Court dismissed."
~ * ~
Lunch came and went, and the court room filled up again, with a new jury and a renewed feeling of excitement. "Settle down," called the judge, and banged his hammer for order. "We now have the trial for the rape of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. He claims to have been taken advantage of by his Potions teacher, Severus Cydas Snape, whilst distressed about the news of his father. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would like to recount your story to the court?" Anger and hate rushed through him as Draco stood to tale the court what had happened. . .well. A version of what had happened. "I received the letter about father late at night. I can't remember the time exactly, but it was late. I was upset, and wanted to be alone, so I told my friends to leave me alone for a while. After about half an hour, I decided to go to Professor Snape, as he is our Head of House, and we're allowed to go and talk to him whenever we like. . . Well, I got there and went in to see that he was also upset at the news, but was very nice to me, and comforted me. He took through out of his office into his bedroom. . .and. . ." Guilt coursed through him suddenly. He was destroying the life of a man he had declared his undying love for. . .he shook it out of himself. That was before he had known that he had 'carried on', as his mother put it, with his father. "And raped me. I tried to stop him, but. . ." he hung his head for the watching crowd, and forced tears. "but he wouldn't!" He turned his head, partly for effect, partly because he didn't want to meet the gaze of the man he was condemning. Another silence within the room, sympathetic eyes watching Draco as his mother comforted him from his 'distress'. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the judge said quietly. "Professor?" Snape nodded coldly. "Again, as with the last case, there are grains of truth in Mr. Malfoy's story, though there is one major glitch. I did not rape him, and never would. Yes, he came to me, and yes, I took him through to my sleeping quarters. Why? Because it is more private than my office, where anyone could have walked in on him, in his distress, which would not have been fair on him" he paused for the first time, then sighed and continued. "And yes, we. . .I . . .took advantage, if you like, though I assure you that he made no objections. In fact, he started it. . ." He jerked his head suddenly, as though annoyed by something. "No, now it sounds as though I'm trying to shift the blame. I'm not. It should never have happened." He paused again, looking for the words to rephrase his point. "To recount the exact happenings to you would be impossible, " he started again, quietly. "As a teacher. . .as a senior teacher, I should have known better, in so many respects. . .but I, also, was in considerable distress. Lucius Malfoy is. . .was possibly the only man I have ever truly loved, and to find that he was. . .dead. . ." he trailed off. He spoke distantly, as though his mind was somewhere else. It was. He sighed. "The likeness between Lucius Malfoy and his son is marked." No-one spoke. No-one quite knew what to say. Even the anxious quills of the reporters had been stilled, just for that minute, all eyes on the proud, defiant, gaunt man tied to the chair. "Thank you," the judge said, unemotionally, relieving the silence, which broke out into excited whisperings yet again. "Silence in the court!" called the judge, to no avail. He banged his hammer, which, if nothing else, seemed to aggravate the talkers into talking more loudly. "THERE WILL BE SILENCE IN MY COURT!" bellowed the judge. Silence fell again. "A-hem. Thank you," he said, regaining some of his lost composure. "In regarding the complete lack of evidence of any sort in this case, we have decided to call witnesses to portray the characters of both Draco Malfoy and Professor Severus Snape. They shall be called in turn, and questioned by me and any other member of the court or jury who wish to ask. No reporter may ask a question. We start with Professor Minerva McGonagall talking for Draco Malfoy." In due ceremony, McGonagall rose, as tight lipped and as sever as ever. "Professor, will you please describe to us your student Draco Malfoy to us." "Certainly, your honour, " she stated in her thick Scots accent. "Draco Malfoy is a boy of relevant intelligence and works hard to maintain his grades. He has an unfortunate sense of humour and a. . ." she struggled for words momentarily before continuing, ". . .misplaced sense of honour." "Misplaced, professor?" asked the judge. "Yes, your honour. " "In what way misplaced?" "He tends to follow his own rules, your honour." "I see. And what and for how long have you taught Draco Malfoy, Professor?" "I have taught him Transfiguration for six years now, your honour." "Thank you. Any questions?" finalised the judge, looking around the room. No-one rose. "Thank you, Professor, you may be seated." Minerva sank back into her place gratefully, her mouth in an impossibly thin line of disapproval. "Next we shall hear from Blaise Zabini, friend of Draco Malfoy." Zabini rose. "Mr. Zabini, in your own words, describe Draco Malfoy." Blaise stood awkwardly for a moment, and then began abruptly. "Draco's alright. He's good fun, y'know? Got a sense of humour. Ee's clever too. " He stopped as suddenly as he began. "Thank you. How long have you known Mr Malfoy, Mr Zabini?" "'Bout six years." "Would you say you are good friends with him?" Blaise hesitated and looked uneasy. "Yeah, we're alright, suppose. . ." "You're alright, you suppose?" Blaise shrugged. "Do you 'hang round' with him a lot, Mr Zabini?" the distaste for the phrase 'hang round' was marked. "A bit." "A bit. How much is a bit, Mr. Zabini?" "Just in the common room and stuff." The judge sighed. "Was Mr. Malfoy in any visible distress over his father's death?" "Yeah, course he was," Blaise said, almost in protest. "Of course. How did he talk about Professor Snape around the time mentioned?" The whole courtroom looked at Zabini for this one; even Snape rose himself from his thoughts to watch the face of the worried boy. "Well, he didn't really. I think he said something about him being nice about it though," Blaise said, painfully aware of the eyes that watched him. Draco bit his bottom lip in concern. "Snape's been really nice about it though. Almost understanding!" those had been his exact words. . .of course, he hadn't thought it was going to come to this at that point. "Thank you. Any other questions?" One of the jury rose and addressed Blaise. "How well did Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape get along, before any of this had happened?" Zabini shifted uncomfortably. "Alright, suppose." "Did Professor Snape favour Mr. Malfoy in anyway, do you think, Mr. Zabini? think carefully." Zabini stood on one foot, and then the other, searching for an answer. "I suppose he did. Favour Draco, that is. I mean, he would stop and talk to him in Potions more than he would anyone else, I suppose." The jury member sighed. "You suppose?" "Yeah." "Very well, that is all I have to ask." "Any other questions?" called out the judge. No answers. "Thank you, Mr. Zabini, you may be seated." Zabini sunk back into his chair like his legs wouldn't hold him any longer.
"Next, we have Marcus Flint." Marcus Flint stood up slowly, his hulking figure hunched. "Mr Flint, will you please explain how you know Mr. Malfoy and then describe him in your own words? Thank you." "Umm. . . I'm the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and Draco is the seeker, which is how I know 'im. Umm. . .yeah, he's bright. . .he's funny too. Popular wiv everyone." Sensing that was all Flint had to say, the judge started his questions. "Do you think that Mr. Malfoy likes to be centre of attention, Mr. Flint?" Flint stared. "Well, yeah. Doesn't everyone?" "Quite. Do you think Mr. Malfoy would have made up this story of rape to be centre of attention, Mr. Flint?" "No, he ain't stupid!" "Thank you. Any other questions?" One of the watchers rose. "Would you describe the relationship between Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape before the news of Lucius Malfoy's death, Mr. Flint?" "Umm. . . I don't really know, I'm not in Malfoy's year." "Yes, I am aware of this, but from what you know, Mr. Flint what was their relationship like?" " Well. . .they got on well, I think. I mean, if we ever needed permission to use the Quidditch pitch, we always send Malfoy." "That's all, thank you." No-one else rose to question Flint, so he was duly seated, looking a little worried. Would they lose the broomsticks Lucius Malfoy bought them if Draco lost this case?
The judge looked down warily at the list in front of him, and then took a sip of water from the glass that sat beside him. "Right. That was all of Mr. Malfoy's evidence, so we move on to Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore is to talk first, I believe." Dumbledore stood, and was subjected to murmuring. "He's standing for Snape?" Leapt out at him over and over. The Judge called for silence. "Thank you. Professor, please describe Professor Snape, how long he has been working at Hogwarts and how well you know him." Dumbledore nodded, and spoke confidently to the courtroom. "Severus Snape is an honourable man, and has worked at Hogwarts for at least twenty years now. He prefers his own company, I believe, and is an intensely private person. He is strict, and is a great believer in rules, and subsequently punishment on breaking rules. He is generally quiet, despite having a rather unfortunate temper. " "Thank you. Do you think that Professor Snape would be likely to rape anyone?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "No, I would not." "Did you know about his relationship with Lucius Malfoy?" "Not at the time, no." "But you did before he mentioned it today?" "Yes." "Did he tell you?" "Yes." "Why?" "That is irrelevant to the matter in hand, your honour." "Is it?" "Yes." "I disagree." "That is a pity." Pause. "Can you even hint at what the conversation was about?" the judge pursued.
"No, your honour." The judge sighed. "As you will, Professor Dumbledore. Are there any more questions?" Two people from the jury rose. Looking at each other briefly, one sat down.
"Professor Dumbledore, did you not suspect anything between Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape after the incident occurred?" "I felt that something was wrong, certainly. I assumed that it was just the effect of Lucius's death, as I knew Severus had known him well." "Thank you." The jury member sat down, and the other rose. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, did you know about Professor Snape's relationship with Lucius Malfoy at the time of the latter's death?" "No, I did not, although it has no baring to the case in hand." The jury member flushed. "No, sir." The judge looked round. Spotting a reporter standing hopefully, he glowered. "NO reporters may ask questions," he growled. Reluctantly, the offender sat back down, quill in hand. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Next to speak will be Miss Madeline Harlington." Dumbledore returned to his seat and continued to watch, pensively. As he sat the tall, dark haired who had been seated next to Hermione rose gracefully. "Miss Harlington, please describe Professor Snape in your own words, and how you know him." "Of course, your honour." Her voice was liquid, and perfectly calm. Again Snape was caused to look up. Ignoring his gaze, she started her description in her unconcerned voice. "We - Professor Snape and I - were at Hogwarts together. We were in the same year, and both Slytherin students, so we knew each other by sight. He was known for his bad temper and expertise in Potions and for his knowledge of curses and hexes and so on. We got on fairly well, and eventually we started to go out together. Eventually, I realised what he refused to see. That he was gay. I told him and everything was sorted out. He is - or at least was - basically, underneath, ok, but very hard to get to know." The courtroom followed the narrative with interest. "Thank you, Miss Harlington. Where you surprised when you heard that Professor Snape was accused of rape?" "Yes, very much so, your honour. It doesn't seem to be his. . . well, style, unless he has changed drastically from our schooldays, your honour." "Thank you. Are there any more questions for Miss Harlington?" Nobody stood. "Thank you. You may sit now, Miss Harlington." She graced the judge with a gentle smile and elegantly returned to her place. The judge continued. "And finally we have Miss Hermione Granger." Hermione stood as awkwardly as Blaise had, unsure where to look. Why, oh, why had she been picked? Why not one of the Slytherins? "Miss Granger would you please describe Professor Snape and how you know him." Snape looked up for this as well. A slight sneer played on his face as Hermione's eyes met his. "Yes, your honour," she said, tearing her eyes and her thoughts from her teacher. "Professor Snape teaches us - Sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins, that is - Potions. Umm. . . he does tend to favour the Slytherins, but then, he is their Head of House. . . he doesn't stand for any. . .foolery in his classes and is generally very strict." Hermione could feel herself blush as she felt Snape's eyes on her again. She refused to look at him, but stood resolutely, her held high. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Would you say that Professor Snape favours Draco Malfoy in his lessons?" "Yes, but then, he favours the other Slytherins too." "Do you think he favours Mr. Malfoy even more than the other Slytherins, Miss Granger?" She hesitated as she said, "Well. . .I suppose so. . .but . . .well, I don't really notice things like that." "No. Well, any other questions?" An observer rose. "Would you say that Professor Snape liked Mr. Malfoy more that Mr. Malfoy liked Professor Snape?" She stared a little, before working out what the man was asking. She fiddled with her hair unconsciously as her brow furrowed in search of an answer. "I think. . .I'm not sure, I don't really know, but I think that Malfoy likes Professor Snape more than Professor Snape likes him." "Thank you." The watcher sat, and another rose. "Do you like Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger?" She blushed and admitted, "No, not really." "I see," continued the observer. "And Professor Snape? What about him?" "Well. . .I don't really like him much either." "So you don't like either Professor Snape or Draco Malfoy, is that right?" "Yes, that's right. " "So you might be a little biased, shall we say, against them?" "Maybe, though I try not to be. " "Though it's possible?" "I suppose. . ." she said doubtfully. "Thank you, that is all," the man sat down. The judge looked round. "Is that all? Does anyone want to ask the speakers or Professor Snape or, indeed, Draco Malfoy, any further questions? No? Good. In that case, the jury shall be dismissed and we shall all reassemble here. . ." the judge checked his watch. It was getting a little late, ". . . tomorrow noon. Court rise! Dismissed!" The courtroom filled out and was emptied. Snape was led back to the cells. Everyone returned to their homes, or school, in some cases. Peace was restored in the cold, dark room, the flickering torches extinguished.
~ * ~
The next day at noon, the courtroom was full again, as full with noise as it was with people. Snape was returned to the chair, guarded on both sides by the towering, dark figures of the dementors. The judge called for silence, and after a minute or two of subdued mumblings, he got it. "Are we all present? Good. In that case, has the jury reached an agreement?" The jury speaker rose and assented that yes, they had. "On charge for the murder of Lucius Malfoy, we find Professor Severus Snape, Guilty. On charge of the rape of Draco Malfoy, we find Professor Severus Snape, Guilty. " All hell broke lose in the court, and it took the judge quite a while to quieten the noise. "In all my time as a judge, I have not been met with such a case as this. Quite extraordinary. In view of the jury's decision, Professor Snape is to receive fifteen years imprisonment in Azkaban for the murder of Lucius Malfoy, and another ten years imprisonment in Azkaban for the rape of Draco Malfoy. " There was, as to be expected, mixed reactions to this ruling, though the general mood was for celebration.
The noise in the courtroom, left him cold. He accepted his fate, not surprised, but heavy with resignation that this was what would happen. He made it to the dark, foreboding passage entrance to the cells, then turned, scanning the crowd for Draco. He found him, staring in Dumbledore's direction, a defiant look on his face. In turn, Dumbledore was staring thoughtfully into space. "Draco," said Snape, his voice not quite his own, "you told me you loved me. You told me many times, but I never replied. But that doesn't mean I don't." He was vaguely aware of the noise in the chamber dying, but paid no heed. He turned, not waiting for an answer, and with a swish of black material, he was gone, gone to his doom, never to return to see the light of day for twenty five years. Draco looked at the empty doorway. Stared. His head span. . .he had been such an idiot. What had he done? He cared after all. . . "No. . ." he whispered. "No!" his voice getting louder. The room stared at him. He didn't care. "NOOOOOO!" he screamed at the doorway, in sheer frustration, the realisation of his loss. . . and it was all his fault. But now he was gone. It was too late for forgiveness now. Too late.
Right. I'm sorry this has taken me so long, but so many things have been happening to me. . . * sigh * anyway, my apologises for any glitches in the officialdom in the court scene, I have no idea. . . they just put me straight in the cells. . . Quarles the butler belongs to Priestess of Avalon, I am merely borrowing him. . .as I am merely boring Simpy from Naomi. Thanks, as ever to my reviewers and beta esp. Priestess of Avalon, Blonde Ditz, Hannakin, Ambrosius, Pervert Bitch, Audrey (for being so nice!) and all the rest, who I can't remember right now, due to a terrible memory. . .Alysun.
Too Late.
Empty. At the moment. The stage, with its single, metal chair, was deserted, as was the opposite podium. The seats that lined and filled the greyness were unoccupied. The underground chamber was cold and shadowy, lit only by flaming wall torches that flickered as the doors opened. The big, high security doors admitted two tall men, led by the short, irate figure of Cornelius Fudge. Fudge was talking in his sharp, impatient manner, shattering the silence like a porcelain figure dropped on a hard wood floor. The room was familiar with the presence of the tall, ageing figure to Fudge's left; Albus Dumbledore. he used be in there a lot. . . The other was new. . .
~ * ~
". . .right, the trial will start in half an hour from now, are all your witnesses and speaker ready Dumbledore? Good. . . I really shouldn't be involved in things like court cases, but as it is. . .yes, well. Judge, you ready? The podium alright for you there? Good. The jury is waiting off in the little side room over there, so that's fine. . .the press will be arriving soon. . ." Fudge's voice echoed hollowly around the room, as did the footsteps of the three men. Time passed, and the room started to fill up. . .first came the reporters, filling the front three rows. . .then the court artists with their enchanted equipment, then, finally, the rest. A selection of people who were thought to be fit to watch. On the first balcony, were the witnesses, Madeline Harlington, Albus Dumbledore, and Hermione Granger in the defence. Opposing them were Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy and Quarles, the Malfoy (human) butler. A house elf, Simpy by name, was also supposed to be standing, but no-one could find her anywhere. Hatred ran pure in the eyes of both Malfoys as Dementors led Snape onto the stage and onto the chair. Magical ropes sprung from nowhere and tied the slender, gaunt figure down firmly, and the Dementors backed out of the light into the shadows. The now fully assembled audience fell into a watchful silence.
It was amazing, Dumbledore observed, how a man with accusations of murder and rape hanging over him, could look so calm and so composed. . .
And indeed, he did. Admittedly, even after a short stay in Azkaban, he looked thinner, more tired than before. Despite this, his eyes. . .Eyes were always the first thing to show the horrors of the Dementors. After all, they are acclaimed to be the windows to the soul. But Snape's. . .they showed no more, no less than they ever did. It was quietly disturbing. He sat up straight in the chair, head held high in defiance of his accusers. Dumbledore caught his eye, and Severus replied, maintaining eye contact, though his face showed nothing. What was he thinking?
Draco sat up in the balconies, also watching Snape. How could he look so cold and untouched? Part of him marvelled, whilst the other twisted and writhed in soul consuming hatred. This man. . .he had loved his father, then himself. . .and then killed his father. His mother had convinced him of this, whispering her words of sweet poison into his listening ear, when he had told her what Snape had said. What was he thinking?
Why were Snape and Dumbledore staring at each other so intently? What did they know? Paranoia coursed through her like a drug, turning her blood cold. How had Snape guessed that she had killed him? The bastard. . .the utter, utter bastard. . .why couldn't he keep his filthy hands off her men, the fucked up, unnatural queer that he was. . . What was he thinking?
Hermione also sat in the balcony, next to Dumbledore and a tall dark haired, grey eyed woman who she had never seen before. Further along the row were McGonagall, Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint. She was also watching Snape. He's so composed. . . I wonder what he's really feeling? Her brow creased with worry. Why had Dumbledore picked her, of all people? Why not one of the Slytherins? He was, after all, their Head of House. . . She bit her bottom lip and ran through what she knew she must say. Deep, calming breaths, Hermione, deep, calming breathes. . . What was he thinking?
The voice of the judge broke through the thoughts of the gathering, and started the trail.
"Severus Cydas Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, you have been accused of firstly the murder of Lucius Slazar Malfoy, and then the rape of his son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. To the murder of Lucius Malfoy, do you plead guilty, or not guilty?" "Not guilty." "To the rape of Draco Malfoy, do you plead guilty or not guilty?" "Not guilty."
The courtroom was silent. The only other time the courtroom had felt this stony, morbidly interested silence, was at the trial of Barty Crouch. Not even then. . .
The trial began.
~ * ~
First came the murder trial, started off by Narcissa's statement. "Well, it was dark. The Manor tends to be at night, but Lucius's study was always brightly lit. . . and anyway, it was darker than usual. So, I was walking down the passageway, to go and say goodnight to Lucius, and when I opened the door, there he was! Dead!" Her eyes were opened wide in pretty horror, innocent shock. It was almost comic. ". . ." she opened her mouth, but no sound was emitted. She tried again, and succeeded. "So I sent for the doctor immediately, even though I knew that he was. . .he was. . ." she choked and broke down in a flood of tears.
"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," the dry voice of the judge broke through. " Quarles, please tell the courtroom what you saw that evening."
"Yes milord. It was an ordinary evening as far as I was concerned. After clearing away the evening meal, I went up to my rooms, to wait for the Master to ring for his evening drink of brandy. However, I was called down to the kitchens by one of the house elves, to fetch a tray from one of the upper most shelves. As I walked down, I noticed a tall, dark haired man entering the Master's study. I thought nothing more of this, as it was nothing to do with me. After fetching the tray, I returned to my room and continued waiting to be called. When it turned eleven, I went to bed, as told to on prior instruction," the man said. He was impossibly average. . .average height, average weight, average eye colour, average voice. . . though his eyes were slightly too close together.
"Thank you, Quarles." There was a pause while the judge shuffled his notes. He turned to Snape, who had been listening impassively throughout. "Professor Snape, would you please recount your evening to the courtroom."
"Certainly, milord," Snape's voice was dry and cordial. And perfectly calm.
"It was rather uneventful for the best part. After lessons ended, I did marking, for about three hours or so. . .and then started planing the next days lessons. That took me until about nine o'clock. At nine, I put the ingredients needed for the next day ready, and read until about quarter to eleven. At that time, I was disturbed by someone knocking on my door. I opened it to see one of the house elves, with a letter. I took the letter and dismissed the elf. The letter was concerning Lucius death; from Narcissa. It was quite simple. It said something along the lines of; Dear Professor Snape, I am sorry to inform you that my dear husband, Lucius Malfoy, has been found to be sadly deceased. It appears to have been murder.
It was signed by Narcissa, and written in her handwriting. It self destructed almost as soon as I had finished reading it. . .About ten minutes after receiving the letter, Draco Malfoy came to me, in considerable distress; he had also been notified of the tragedy," Snape finished. He had maintained perfect eye contact through out and hadn't wavered once. . .What was he thinking? What was he going through in his mind? His face told nothing. "Thank you," the judge said again, and referred to his notes. "At this point, we would usually have a witness of this, but there is no-one other than the house elf. . .who has seemingly disappeared from the face of the planet. . ." he looked up at Snape over his glasses, eyebrows raised inquiringly. Snape stared back, with mild curiosity. "Really? How. . .inconvenient," he said. The judge gave him a sharp look, and then returned to his notes. "Yes, very. . ."he muttered. "Professor, your alibi is far from waterproof. ..the is no way of knowing that you are telling the truth. Mrs Malfoy has the backing of a reliable family butler. Have you anything to say in which to defend yourself at this point?" Snape paused. ". . .Only one. May I draw attention to the fact that is a family butler? Quarles has been with the family for years, and is devote to their cause. . .I believe that it is perfectly possible for him to be lying to cover up Mrs Malfoy. I was nowhere near the Manor that night." The judge nodded as the jury scribbled down notes. "Very good." He turned back to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy. Why do you think that Professor Snape, a man who has gained much respect over the years, would want to murder your husband, of whom he has not been in contact with in many years?" Narcissa flushed. This was it. Her moment. Her plan, her masterpiece was swung into play. . . "Yes, your honour. . . My husband and the Professor used to be very good friends in their school days, and met up again, many years later. . .and came, unknown to me, to back to the Manor. Lucius offered him a room for the night, which he took up. And then. . .and then later that night. . ." he voice faltered. She could feel Snape's eyes boring into her, mocking her, daring her to carry on. . .she took a deep breath. "And then he seduced my husband!" People stared. Quick Quote Quills went mad. The whisperings and muttered conversations that filled the chamber were deafening, and burned Dumbledore's ears. What a liar this woman is, he thought, mildly. Hermione stared. What?! Snape and Lucius Malfoy and then Draco? Her brow furrowed as she thought. The outburst settled down as the judge banged his hammer. "That's enough," he called irately. "Mrs Malfoy, continue if you will. Thank you." She looked at Snape, who stared back at her. He blinked, but didn't avert his gaze. She could feel it burning into her even after she looked away. "What happened that night, I don't know, and don't wish to know. . .but working some dark magic I don't understand, he managed to persuade my husband. . .to. . .to carry on with him. . .and have an affair!" He voice clogged with real tears. Wiping them away impatiently, she carried on, talking over the noise. "And then, and then, before Draco started school, they stopped. I found out all this from my husband about three months ago. . .he told me everything, and agreed the he would never, ever go back to Snape. . .he wrote him a letter telling him so! I think, I'm almost certain, I KNOW that it was Snape. . . letting his jealousy run away with him. . ." She wasn't looking at the judge any more as she talked, but glowering down at the chained man below her. He stared back calmly. Time froze as they sat there. . . And broke by the judge who was seemingly oblivious to the tension that filled the air. "Thank you. Professor, what do you have to say to this?" Snape nodded, in the judge's direction, but continued to stare at Narcissa.
"There is no denying that me and Lucius were lovers for a long while. . .(more pen scratching and muttering from the audience). . .though some things in the lady's story are astray. For example, I did not seduce Lucius in any manner of means. He came to my room at the Manor late at night, and if anything, seduced me. And also, while I received a letter from him declaring his sudden wishes to go straight, I believe it to be forged. After Draco was born, we saw less of each other, both of us agreeing that it would be stupid to risk so much. Two years before Draco entered Hogwarts, we put everything on hold during Draco's education; it would have been far too risky. We were planning to carry on after Draco had left," Snape said, not moving his gaze from the hard glare of Narcissa. If he could hear the shock of the room, he didn't care. "He would never have gone straight. Not according to anything he said or did in our absences. . .he sent me two letters, almost like reminders, to me, both declaring his desire to see me again. And though I received this last letter, I refuse to accept it to be genuine. . .and even if it is real, then I was never driven into wanting to kill Lucius. . ." he drew to a close. There was no sound in the courtroom.
Wow, thought Hermione.
Even the judge appeared to notice the need for a quick silence to think, as he took a moment to gather his wits and move on. "Mrs Malfoy? Have you anything more to add?" She narrowed her eyes at Snape and said "yes," defiantly. She wasn't about to lose this to sentiments. "But you don't deny you. . .you carried on with Lucius?" she hissed. "My HUSBAND! The father of my only son, gay? I don't think so! You're a Potions Master. . .who's saying you didn't brew up some wicked concoction to obtain your goal? Hmmm? Lucius admitted everything to me! Everything! He said he would never leave me again!" she drew a ragged breath. Damn it all, her mascara was starting to run. . ."He sent that letter in all honesty. . .he meant every word. I saw him write it and then watched him send it to you. I was there," she said, more calmly, talking directly at Snape. He shrugged. "Maybe so. I wasn't there, so I don't know. All I know is that it seems highly out of character for Lucius. And if he did, it seems maybe inevitable. I see no reason to become angry over something I cannot control. And, I assure you I used no potions on him. . .without his consent, at any rate," Snape rationalised. She stared. "Do you have anything more to say, Mrs. Malfoy?" "No, your honour, "she whispered, not tearing her eyes from the seated figure in front of her. "Other than this; while he bats down my statements with such ease, does it make him innocent? He used to be a Death Eater, he's an accomplished liar." She sat back in her chair, self backed and righteous, her final trump played. The court room went berserk, talking, hurried conversations, quill's scratching on scraps of parchment, cameras clicking like mad. Dumbledore rose from his seat hurriedly, anxious to undo what had been tied, before it became implanted in people's minds. "Your honour, if I may? It is true enough that Severus Snape was accused of being a Death eater, but nothing was ever proved. Also, one question. . .how does Narcissa know of this? It is in the records, but in the highly confidential section," he said, and returned to his seat, hoping that that would be enough. More mutterings and the sound of quills scratching lines through previous notes, and re-writing them. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Mrs Malfoy, if you would answer the question?" the judge intervened. She nodded. "My husband was in the Ministry for many years, and heard it as a rumour, and then found that it was true," she explained. "Sorry? He found that what was true?" the judge asked dryly. "Please be more specific in your answers, Mrs Malfoy." She blushed. "That he was accused, your honour," she said, reluctantly. Damn Albus Dumbledore. . . "Thank you. And do try not to make wild, unfounded accusations in future, we want an unbiased jury here. . ." She blushed again. "Professor Snape, is that all?" he asked. "Not quite, your honour. . ." Snape said. "Another question, though it is more rhetorical than anything. I am a Potions Master, as Mrs Malfoy was kind enough to point out before. . .and Lucius Malfoy was found stabbed to death. Why would I stab him, when it would be so much easier to administer poison? I know his habits well enough to know how and when." He shrugged again, hindered slightly from his binds. "Then again, why would I want to kill him at all?" he stopped suddenly, looking as though he had cut himself off from saying something that he shouldn't. The judge nodded and looked to Narcissa for a reply. She just shook her head and left it. Looking slightly relieved, the judge nodded his head. "Right, this has gone on long enough for now. An hour break for lunch, and the jury will be asked to discuss and make up their minds. During that time, we may as well continue with the next case, with the next jury." He banged his hammer. "Court dismissed."
~ * ~
Lunch came and went, and the court room filled up again, with a new jury and a renewed feeling of excitement. "Settle down," called the judge, and banged his hammer for order. "We now have the trial for the rape of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. He claims to have been taken advantage of by his Potions teacher, Severus Cydas Snape, whilst distressed about the news of his father. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would like to recount your story to the court?" Anger and hate rushed through him as Draco stood to tale the court what had happened. . .well. A version of what had happened. "I received the letter about father late at night. I can't remember the time exactly, but it was late. I was upset, and wanted to be alone, so I told my friends to leave me alone for a while. After about half an hour, I decided to go to Professor Snape, as he is our Head of House, and we're allowed to go and talk to him whenever we like. . . Well, I got there and went in to see that he was also upset at the news, but was very nice to me, and comforted me. He took through out of his office into his bedroom. . .and. . ." Guilt coursed through him suddenly. He was destroying the life of a man he had declared his undying love for. . .he shook it out of himself. That was before he had known that he had 'carried on', as his mother put it, with his father. "And raped me. I tried to stop him, but. . ." he hung his head for the watching crowd, and forced tears. "but he wouldn't!" He turned his head, partly for effect, partly because he didn't want to meet the gaze of the man he was condemning. Another silence within the room, sympathetic eyes watching Draco as his mother comforted him from his 'distress'. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the judge said quietly. "Professor?" Snape nodded coldly. "Again, as with the last case, there are grains of truth in Mr. Malfoy's story, though there is one major glitch. I did not rape him, and never would. Yes, he came to me, and yes, I took him through to my sleeping quarters. Why? Because it is more private than my office, where anyone could have walked in on him, in his distress, which would not have been fair on him" he paused for the first time, then sighed and continued. "And yes, we. . .I . . .took advantage, if you like, though I assure you that he made no objections. In fact, he started it. . ." He jerked his head suddenly, as though annoyed by something. "No, now it sounds as though I'm trying to shift the blame. I'm not. It should never have happened." He paused again, looking for the words to rephrase his point. "To recount the exact happenings to you would be impossible, " he started again, quietly. "As a teacher. . .as a senior teacher, I should have known better, in so many respects. . .but I, also, was in considerable distress. Lucius Malfoy is. . .was possibly the only man I have ever truly loved, and to find that he was. . .dead. . ." he trailed off. He spoke distantly, as though his mind was somewhere else. It was. He sighed. "The likeness between Lucius Malfoy and his son is marked." No-one spoke. No-one quite knew what to say. Even the anxious quills of the reporters had been stilled, just for that minute, all eyes on the proud, defiant, gaunt man tied to the chair. "Thank you," the judge said, unemotionally, relieving the silence, which broke out into excited whisperings yet again. "Silence in the court!" called the judge, to no avail. He banged his hammer, which, if nothing else, seemed to aggravate the talkers into talking more loudly. "THERE WILL BE SILENCE IN MY COURT!" bellowed the judge. Silence fell again. "A-hem. Thank you," he said, regaining some of his lost composure. "In regarding the complete lack of evidence of any sort in this case, we have decided to call witnesses to portray the characters of both Draco Malfoy and Professor Severus Snape. They shall be called in turn, and questioned by me and any other member of the court or jury who wish to ask. No reporter may ask a question. We start with Professor Minerva McGonagall talking for Draco Malfoy." In due ceremony, McGonagall rose, as tight lipped and as sever as ever. "Professor, will you please describe to us your student Draco Malfoy to us." "Certainly, your honour, " she stated in her thick Scots accent. "Draco Malfoy is a boy of relevant intelligence and works hard to maintain his grades. He has an unfortunate sense of humour and a. . ." she struggled for words momentarily before continuing, ". . .misplaced sense of honour." "Misplaced, professor?" asked the judge. "Yes, your honour. " "In what way misplaced?" "He tends to follow his own rules, your honour." "I see. And what and for how long have you taught Draco Malfoy, Professor?" "I have taught him Transfiguration for six years now, your honour." "Thank you. Any questions?" finalised the judge, looking around the room. No-one rose. "Thank you, Professor, you may be seated." Minerva sank back into her place gratefully, her mouth in an impossibly thin line of disapproval. "Next we shall hear from Blaise Zabini, friend of Draco Malfoy." Zabini rose. "Mr. Zabini, in your own words, describe Draco Malfoy." Blaise stood awkwardly for a moment, and then began abruptly. "Draco's alright. He's good fun, y'know? Got a sense of humour. Ee's clever too. " He stopped as suddenly as he began. "Thank you. How long have you known Mr Malfoy, Mr Zabini?" "'Bout six years." "Would you say you are good friends with him?" Blaise hesitated and looked uneasy. "Yeah, we're alright, suppose. . ." "You're alright, you suppose?" Blaise shrugged. "Do you 'hang round' with him a lot, Mr Zabini?" the distaste for the phrase 'hang round' was marked. "A bit." "A bit. How much is a bit, Mr. Zabini?" "Just in the common room and stuff." The judge sighed. "Was Mr. Malfoy in any visible distress over his father's death?" "Yeah, course he was," Blaise said, almost in protest. "Of course. How did he talk about Professor Snape around the time mentioned?" The whole courtroom looked at Zabini for this one; even Snape rose himself from his thoughts to watch the face of the worried boy. "Well, he didn't really. I think he said something about him being nice about it though," Blaise said, painfully aware of the eyes that watched him. Draco bit his bottom lip in concern. "Snape's been really nice about it though. Almost understanding!" those had been his exact words. . .of course, he hadn't thought it was going to come to this at that point. "Thank you. Any other questions?" One of the jury rose and addressed Blaise. "How well did Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape get along, before any of this had happened?" Zabini shifted uncomfortably. "Alright, suppose." "Did Professor Snape favour Mr. Malfoy in anyway, do you think, Mr. Zabini? think carefully." Zabini stood on one foot, and then the other, searching for an answer. "I suppose he did. Favour Draco, that is. I mean, he would stop and talk to him in Potions more than he would anyone else, I suppose." The jury member sighed. "You suppose?" "Yeah." "Very well, that is all I have to ask." "Any other questions?" called out the judge. No answers. "Thank you, Mr. Zabini, you may be seated." Zabini sunk back into his chair like his legs wouldn't hold him any longer.
"Next, we have Marcus Flint." Marcus Flint stood up slowly, his hulking figure hunched. "Mr Flint, will you please explain how you know Mr. Malfoy and then describe him in your own words? Thank you." "Umm. . . I'm the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and Draco is the seeker, which is how I know 'im. Umm. . .yeah, he's bright. . .he's funny too. Popular wiv everyone." Sensing that was all Flint had to say, the judge started his questions. "Do you think that Mr. Malfoy likes to be centre of attention, Mr. Flint?" Flint stared. "Well, yeah. Doesn't everyone?" "Quite. Do you think Mr. Malfoy would have made up this story of rape to be centre of attention, Mr. Flint?" "No, he ain't stupid!" "Thank you. Any other questions?" One of the watchers rose. "Would you describe the relationship between Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape before the news of Lucius Malfoy's death, Mr. Flint?" "Umm. . . I don't really know, I'm not in Malfoy's year." "Yes, I am aware of this, but from what you know, Mr. Flint what was their relationship like?" " Well. . .they got on well, I think. I mean, if we ever needed permission to use the Quidditch pitch, we always send Malfoy." "That's all, thank you." No-one else rose to question Flint, so he was duly seated, looking a little worried. Would they lose the broomsticks Lucius Malfoy bought them if Draco lost this case?
The judge looked down warily at the list in front of him, and then took a sip of water from the glass that sat beside him. "Right. That was all of Mr. Malfoy's evidence, so we move on to Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore is to talk first, I believe." Dumbledore stood, and was subjected to murmuring. "He's standing for Snape?" Leapt out at him over and over. The Judge called for silence. "Thank you. Professor, please describe Professor Snape, how long he has been working at Hogwarts and how well you know him." Dumbledore nodded, and spoke confidently to the courtroom. "Severus Snape is an honourable man, and has worked at Hogwarts for at least twenty years now. He prefers his own company, I believe, and is an intensely private person. He is strict, and is a great believer in rules, and subsequently punishment on breaking rules. He is generally quiet, despite having a rather unfortunate temper. " "Thank you. Do you think that Professor Snape would be likely to rape anyone?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "No, I would not." "Did you know about his relationship with Lucius Malfoy?" "Not at the time, no." "But you did before he mentioned it today?" "Yes." "Did he tell you?" "Yes." "Why?" "That is irrelevant to the matter in hand, your honour." "Is it?" "Yes." "I disagree." "That is a pity." Pause. "Can you even hint at what the conversation was about?" the judge pursued.
"No, your honour." The judge sighed. "As you will, Professor Dumbledore. Are there any more questions?" Two people from the jury rose. Looking at each other briefly, one sat down.
"Professor Dumbledore, did you not suspect anything between Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape after the incident occurred?" "I felt that something was wrong, certainly. I assumed that it was just the effect of Lucius's death, as I knew Severus had known him well." "Thank you." The jury member sat down, and the other rose. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, did you know about Professor Snape's relationship with Lucius Malfoy at the time of the latter's death?" "No, I did not, although it has no baring to the case in hand." The jury member flushed. "No, sir." The judge looked round. Spotting a reporter standing hopefully, he glowered. "NO reporters may ask questions," he growled. Reluctantly, the offender sat back down, quill in hand. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Next to speak will be Miss Madeline Harlington." Dumbledore returned to his seat and continued to watch, pensively. As he sat the tall, dark haired who had been seated next to Hermione rose gracefully. "Miss Harlington, please describe Professor Snape in your own words, and how you know him." "Of course, your honour." Her voice was liquid, and perfectly calm. Again Snape was caused to look up. Ignoring his gaze, she started her description in her unconcerned voice. "We - Professor Snape and I - were at Hogwarts together. We were in the same year, and both Slytherin students, so we knew each other by sight. He was known for his bad temper and expertise in Potions and for his knowledge of curses and hexes and so on. We got on fairly well, and eventually we started to go out together. Eventually, I realised what he refused to see. That he was gay. I told him and everything was sorted out. He is - or at least was - basically, underneath, ok, but very hard to get to know." The courtroom followed the narrative with interest. "Thank you, Miss Harlington. Where you surprised when you heard that Professor Snape was accused of rape?" "Yes, very much so, your honour. It doesn't seem to be his. . . well, style, unless he has changed drastically from our schooldays, your honour." "Thank you. Are there any more questions for Miss Harlington?" Nobody stood. "Thank you. You may sit now, Miss Harlington." She graced the judge with a gentle smile and elegantly returned to her place. The judge continued. "And finally we have Miss Hermione Granger." Hermione stood as awkwardly as Blaise had, unsure where to look. Why, oh, why had she been picked? Why not one of the Slytherins? "Miss Granger would you please describe Professor Snape and how you know him." Snape looked up for this as well. A slight sneer played on his face as Hermione's eyes met his. "Yes, your honour," she said, tearing her eyes and her thoughts from her teacher. "Professor Snape teaches us - Sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins, that is - Potions. Umm. . . he does tend to favour the Slytherins, but then, he is their Head of House. . . he doesn't stand for any. . .foolery in his classes and is generally very strict." Hermione could feel herself blush as she felt Snape's eyes on her again. She refused to look at him, but stood resolutely, her held high. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Would you say that Professor Snape favours Draco Malfoy in his lessons?" "Yes, but then, he favours the other Slytherins too." "Do you think he favours Mr. Malfoy even more than the other Slytherins, Miss Granger?" She hesitated as she said, "Well. . .I suppose so. . .but . . .well, I don't really notice things like that." "No. Well, any other questions?" An observer rose. "Would you say that Professor Snape liked Mr. Malfoy more that Mr. Malfoy liked Professor Snape?" She stared a little, before working out what the man was asking. She fiddled with her hair unconsciously as her brow furrowed in search of an answer. "I think. . .I'm not sure, I don't really know, but I think that Malfoy likes Professor Snape more than Professor Snape likes him." "Thank you." The watcher sat, and another rose. "Do you like Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger?" She blushed and admitted, "No, not really." "I see," continued the observer. "And Professor Snape? What about him?" "Well. . .I don't really like him much either." "So you don't like either Professor Snape or Draco Malfoy, is that right?" "Yes, that's right. " "So you might be a little biased, shall we say, against them?" "Maybe, though I try not to be. " "Though it's possible?" "I suppose. . ." she said doubtfully. "Thank you, that is all," the man sat down. The judge looked round. "Is that all? Does anyone want to ask the speakers or Professor Snape or, indeed, Draco Malfoy, any further questions? No? Good. In that case, the jury shall be dismissed and we shall all reassemble here. . ." the judge checked his watch. It was getting a little late, ". . . tomorrow noon. Court rise! Dismissed!" The courtroom filled out and was emptied. Snape was led back to the cells. Everyone returned to their homes, or school, in some cases. Peace was restored in the cold, dark room, the flickering torches extinguished.
~ * ~
The next day at noon, the courtroom was full again, as full with noise as it was with people. Snape was returned to the chair, guarded on both sides by the towering, dark figures of the dementors. The judge called for silence, and after a minute or two of subdued mumblings, he got it. "Are we all present? Good. In that case, has the jury reached an agreement?" The jury speaker rose and assented that yes, they had. "On charge for the murder of Lucius Malfoy, we find Professor Severus Snape, Guilty. On charge of the rape of Draco Malfoy, we find Professor Severus Snape, Guilty. " All hell broke lose in the court, and it took the judge quite a while to quieten the noise. "In all my time as a judge, I have not been met with such a case as this. Quite extraordinary. In view of the jury's decision, Professor Snape is to receive fifteen years imprisonment in Azkaban for the murder of Lucius Malfoy, and another ten years imprisonment in Azkaban for the rape of Draco Malfoy. " There was, as to be expected, mixed reactions to this ruling, though the general mood was for celebration.
The noise in the courtroom, left him cold. He accepted his fate, not surprised, but heavy with resignation that this was what would happen. He made it to the dark, foreboding passage entrance to the cells, then turned, scanning the crowd for Draco. He found him, staring in Dumbledore's direction, a defiant look on his face. In turn, Dumbledore was staring thoughtfully into space. "Draco," said Snape, his voice not quite his own, "you told me you loved me. You told me many times, but I never replied. But that doesn't mean I don't." He was vaguely aware of the noise in the chamber dying, but paid no heed. He turned, not waiting for an answer, and with a swish of black material, he was gone, gone to his doom, never to return to see the light of day for twenty five years. Draco looked at the empty doorway. Stared. His head span. . .he had been such an idiot. What had he done? He cared after all. . . "No. . ." he whispered. "No!" his voice getting louder. The room stared at him. He didn't care. "NOOOOOO!" he screamed at the doorway, in sheer frustration, the realisation of his loss. . . and it was all his fault. But now he was gone. It was too late for forgiveness now. Too late.