Disclaimer: I don't own anything, again.

A/N: Whoa…I was gone a really, really long time. I had my tonsils removed, so I was bedridden for awhile. I'm so sorry this took forever to get out! Well, here it is – chapter thirteen. I hope you enjoy. :)

Chapter Thirteen: Sentencing

            Had the rest of the Weasley children been home, Harry would have been forced to sleep on Ron's floor, a sacrifice Molly would be unwilling to make. Ginny ran to her room and shut the door as soon as they arrived at the Burrow. Harry was directed to Percy's old room mainly for its neatness and lack of foul odor – Molly had tried to vigorously clean every crevice of the twins' room, but hadn't been able to find the exact source of the stench. The bedroom was boarded off to the rest of the family as a toxic waste site. Only Fred and George were brave enough to enter the room when they came to visit.

            Even though the day was just beginning, the entire Weasley family (including Harry and Hermione) decided to turn in to bed. The only teenager to actually fall asleep was Ron, who, sprawled out on his bright orange bed, dozed off as soon as he hit the pillow. Ginny sat at her desk with her head in her hands, listening to her breathing pattern. In, out. In, out. Each breath was long and flowing and felt like an eternity, just because Draco wasn't there to breathe with her.

            Harry was lying on his stomach on Percy's old bed, which was far too musty and rigid for his liking. Percy's room seemed something out of a library. Books upon books about the Ministry were stacked in the corner, collecting dust. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and shut his eyes – not to fall asleep, but to replay the events of the day and try to figure out what had happened to him.

            Hermione had been lucky enough to get Bill's room. It was not too neat and not too disorderly, though she was enjoying none of this. Concerned though she was, she had her own inner turmoil that she had not divulged to anyone – and it was killing her. She wouldn't even admit it to herself, and instead dismissed it as a consequence of elevated emotions and levels of stress…that is, until she found herself walking to his room in the middle of the day, while everyone slept.

            "Wake up," she hissed, shaking his shoulder.

            All she got was a grunt in reply, and he rolled over, nearly pinning her arm underneath him. Hermione jumped back in time and narrowed her eyes, picking up one of the pillows he'd left unattended. She wound up and with almighty force, struck him right on the head.

            "AHH! What the bloody hell?" Ron yelled, rubbing his head furiously. When he spotted Hermione, he gave a little start and hushed his voice. "What's going on?"

            Hermione froze. What was she doing? She hadn't had anything planned to say. She didn't even know why she had come into his room. "Uh…" she started, a blank look apparent on her face.

            Ron didn't seem to understand she didn't know what she was doing. "I know," he said, looking down, "you can't sleep because of all that's happened. I mean, you could see…well, I could sleep through anything, but…what…do you want to…to talk or something?" He had gotten off to a fairly good start, but reverted back to his usual self towards the end of "expressing feelings."

            Hermione shrugged and accepted this; after all, it was better than standing there in silence with her mouth open. "I suppose," she managed to stutter.

Hermione scanned the room for somewhere to sit; however, Ron's room was cluttered and a chair was nowhere in sight. Ron grunted and shifted on his bed, so a space for her was available near him. She sat down, and in the process, managed to catch a glimpse of red boxers peeking through the sheets. Funny, Hermione thought, intrigued, I would have guessed green.

Though Hermione and Ron had been friends for quite some time, the situation at the moment was obviously uncomfortable. Ron was sans a shirt and only in boxers, while Hermione still had a shirt and pants on from earlier that morning. They both stopped talking a moment, in which time Ron managed to grab his shirt from the end of the bed and pull it roughly over his head, thoroughly ruffling his hair. Hermione snorted when she looked up at him.

Ron tried to flatten it. "Anyway…you…er, wanted to talk?

Hermione decided to take over. "I want to talk about Ginny."

"Right."

"And Malfoy."

Ron grumbled and folded his arms, clearly unenthusiastic about Hermione's choice of conversation.

"Ginny does love him, Ron. I know she has for awhile."

"How can she? It's only been – what, a month?" he argued fiercely.

Though used to bickering incessantly with Ron, Hermione would not let this evolve into another one of their fights.

"So? Love can happen instantly or it could take months to develop. It doesn't have rules," she replied softly.

Ron didn't reply at once, but crossed his arms. "She's too young."

"She's sixteen!"

"She's my sister."

"She is her own person, Ron, and you are not her father. If your dad isn't trying to break this up, then you have no right to do this to her. Ginny has enough on her plate at the moment, thank you very much, and she does not need your unnecessary anger and petty obstinacy getting in the way!" Hermione replied in one breath, in undertone. When Ron didn't reply, Hermione softened and added, "Ron, please, please try to accept it. Or…for her sake, act like it doesn't bother you around her."

"That I can handle. But it still bothers me." Ron unfolded his arms.

"I think he's changed, you know. Malfoy." Hermione shifted on the bed so her feet were off the floor.

"I haven't seen enough evidence to suggest that."

"He couldn't receive the Dark Mark! He helped us save Harry, he loves Ginny…what more evidence could you possibly want?" she said exasperatedly.

"I don't know, Hermione! The fact remains that he's been an enormous git to all of us for seven years!" Ron cried. Hermione shushed him.

"I know. Okay? I know. But…you're right, she is your sister. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow – make this her present."

Ron stared. "That was awfully cliché."

Laughing, she shoved his shoulder. "Take it seriously, though." Hermione yawned widely and stretched. "I'm so tired."

Ron blinked heavily and stifled a yawn. "Me too. I'm just going to rest my eyes for a little." He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

She yawned again. "Good idea. Budge up a bit; I just need to lean back."

They continued to exchange lazy, slow snippets of conversation until Ron noticed Hermione had fallen fast asleep and, not wanting to wake her, dropped off to sleep himself.

The entire Weasley family and guests slept the entire day, into the following morning – Christmas Eve.

"Get the window, Ginny dear," Molly said, her back to the kitchen table.

Ginny pushed herself out of her chair, mid-yawn, and staggered tiredly over to the window. An official-looking owl swept in and dropped a letter directly into Ginny's hands. The owl hooted authoritatively and soared outside as quickly as it had come in. Ginny ripped open the envelope and read the letter in silence. She stared at it for a few moments, eyes wide, before her mother said anything.

"What is it?" Molly asked, peering over Ginny's shoulder. When she read the first few lines, she let out a breath. "Oh…I'll take that, honey." Molly gently took the letter out of Ginny's hands and placed it on the counter.

Ginny slumped back into her chair and ignored her plate of eggs. Everyone else at the table continued to stare at her in silence, as if waiting for something to happen. When she spoke, however, everyone jumped.

"When are you going to ask me what that was?" Ginny said stiffly.

Harry hid his face behind the pitcher of pumpkin juice while Ron hastily shoved the remainder of his eggs into his mouth.

"What was it, Ginny?" Hermione said, after giving Harry and Ron very nasty glances.

"It was a letter informing us of Draco's trial date. I expect he wanted us to know."

"When is it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"In just a week."

"A week is hardly enough time to prepare a decent defense," Molly snapped, haphazardly throwing pots and pans into the sink and having them washed magically.

Ginny looked up at her mother. "You – what? You're going to help?"

Molly stopped moving and turned to Ginny, wringing a towel in her hands. "Well, you're my daughter. I'll support whatever you…want to support."

Ginny beamed as she shoveled bacon into her mouth. "Do you need any help with Christmas dinner, Mum?" she said brightly.

"Oh…uh, of course, dear. You could help me set the table."

Ginny sprung up from the table and cleared her plate, a small smile playing on her face. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all exchanged apprehensive looks and watched Ginny race upstairs to her room.

When she was gone, Ron broke the silence. "Are you really going to help Malfoy, Mum?"

"I…yes. If Ginny – er, loves him – then we will help. I'd do the same for you if you said you loved…say, that Parkinson girl."

Harry and Hermione burst into laughter while Ron turned a nasty shade of purple. "Eurgh – Mum, don't even say that!"

Hermione snorted. "Could you imagine Ron with Pansy? That would be a sight to see."

"You think it's funny, do you?" Ron said, turning towards her and smirking. "What about you and Goyle, eh? How about that? You'd spend most your time trying to teach him to spell your name."

Hermione stopped laughing and mocked gagging. "Ew – you had to pick Goyle? Thanks, Ron!"

They all laughed for awhile before Ron suddenly shifted to an unusual serious state. "Mum, how are we going to help Malfoy? We haven't…you know, we can't afford a lawyer."

Molly sighed. "Don't you worry, now. Hurry up and finish because I've got loads to do."

Soon the three of them all scuttled out of the kitchen and started going outside when Hermione noticed Arthur in his office, muttering to himself. She could only make out snippets of his speech.

"Conspiracy…minimum 5…poison…intent to harm…oh my…" Arthur was hastily flipping through a heavy and worn book, his eyes narrowed down at the pages' small print.

Hermione cleared her throat, startling Arthur. "Excuse me, Mr. Weasley? Do you need help with something?"

"Oh…no, thank you, Hermione. I'm just researching some stuff for Malf – Draco's case." He articulated Draco's name very oddly, as if forcing the name out of his mouth, leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

"I'd love to help, if you don't mind. I've…I've studied some wizarding law, you know, just for some extracurricular work."

"Extracurricular? Just like you, Hermione." Arthur smiled warmly. "Well…all right. Come on in."

Hermione waved the two boys away, and they left, shrugging. She pulled a chair up to Mr. Weasley's desk and opened a book.

"What was Malfoy charged with?" she asked as soon as she started reading a paragraph.

"Conspiracy and poisoning with the intent to harm," Arthur said, sighing heavily. He rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Hermione, can you keep a secret?"

She looked startled. "Well…yes, of course."

"I don't think we're going to win this case. We can't afford lawyers like the Malfoy's, and these accusations…well, he is guilty."

Hermione snapped her book shut and grabbed another. "If we can just prove that he was forced to do these things, then we would have a defense."

Hermione and Arthur worked until Molly called them all in for Christmas dinner. Charlie and Bill had arrived while Hermione was in the office with Mr. Weasley. Percy explained that he was working overtime and couldn't make it. Though worried, the dinner was filled with the typical cheery, lighthearted conversation. Ginny did her best to join in, but her heart wasn't in it. She just kept thinking of Azkaban, and the fact that Draco was in there. Every happy feeling – every happy feeling that involved her – was being sucked out of him. The next morning, Christmas Day, everyone woke early to open their presents. Ginny ripped open her gifts just as everyone else, thanking her parents and Hermione and Harry.

The week passed by quickly and the holiday from school diminished. The return to school approached with a gloomy dread, but even more so for the Weasley family – they still had Draco's case. Hermione had been helping Arthur work on the defense for the entire holiday.

It was the day of Draco's trial. Mr. Weasley dressed in his best robes and gathered all of his paperwork with shaking hands. He was obviously very nervous. Molly whispered a few words of encouragement as they entered the courtroom. Ginny was just about to walk in as well (Ron and the rest stayed home), but Molly held her back.

"You're not allowed in here, sweetheart. You can just take a seat over there."

Ginny opened her mouth to argue but decided to let it go. She'd be able to see him when he was released, right? So there was nothing to worry about.

She stayed on the bench for what seemed an eternity. Finally, the large oak doors swung open and freed a hundred chattering voices. She couldn't tell from any of them whether or not Draco was let off. Ginny hopped up from the bench and scurried to the open door and peered in. Her father was bending over the table, gathering his things, and Molly was wringing her hands, whispering urgently. Ginny could not see Draco anywhere.

She rushed to her parents, glancing around. "Where is he?" she demanded.

Arthur looked at his daughter with saddened eyes. "I'm sorry, Ginny. He's been found guilty."

"Guilty?!" Ginny shrieked. "No! But he's not…how long will he serve?"

Arthur shook his head. "Twenty-five years in Azkaban."