"Permission to address the court," Harry said, but his tone made it clear that he was, in fact, stating his intent rather than asking anyone's permission; he was going to address the court, and the court was going to allow it, and every single person in the room was going to listen to what he had to say, and furthermore hang on his every word, all because of who he was and what he'd so recently done- and he knew this, and accepted it as his due. That was what his tone of voice said.
"You may speak, Mister Potter," said the head of the panel of wizards that was in charge of determining Draco's fate.
Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts, running a hand through his hair. Then he began to speak in earnest, slowly at first, but picking up speed as he warmed to his theme.
"People have been speaking for me all my life, ever since I entered this world as a child. Speaking for me as though I had no voice of my own-" he sent a pointed look in the direction of the prosecutors- "or else twisting my words-" and now his eyes caught Rita's- "when I attempted to speak for myself. I never liked that. Who here would?" Jade eyes swept the packed room- "but as a child, I had little choice. My voice wasn't strong enough, it seemed, to be heard on its own. However- it is now. The era of others presuming to act as my mouthpiece ends today, right here."
"I assure you," spoke another member of the panel, "that we will give consideration to whatever you have to say. We are all in your dept, Mister Potter."
Percy, looking as if he'd just been forced to drink a glass of pure, undiluted lemon juice, abruptly thrust a finger into the air. "May I point out," he interjected, in his high-pitched, sanctimonious voice, "that this is highly irregular, and, in fact-"
"Percy," said Harry. He said it softly, but with such quiet force that it stopped Percy in his tracks, and riveted the entire assemblage back to the Boy Who Lived. "You've put a lot of effort into your prosecution, I see," Harry remarked then, almost conversationally. "You always were quite thorough- even back when you were trying to convince everyone that Voldemort posed no threat at all, and that I was merely a delusional nut-job for saying otherwise." A murmur ran through the courtroom. Percy opened and closed his mouth, fishlike, in indignation.
"I find it interesting, though," Harry continued, "that as thorough as you are in these matters, you never even attempted to ask my opinion- or your brother Ron's, for that matter"- Ron had moved up the aisle now, to stand side-by-side with Harry again; he slung an arm around the dark-haired boy's shoulder- "on this prosecution, which would effectively make our best friend an exile for the rest of her life. Either of us would have been happy to speak with you on this matter, but I gotta say, Perce, it's been a devil trying to get in touch with you lately. Maybe it's just that we move in different circles, eh? For instance… we didn't see you anywhere during the battle, Percy. Where were you that day? Your father fought, all your brothers fought, even your mother and your little sister did their part, guarding the schoolchildren. And you were doing what, exactly?"
Again Percy opened his mouth; again Harry cut him off. "Hermione was out there fighting for what she believed in. So, for that matter, was Malfoy- even he has that much over you. Malfoy and I may never be friends, but I understand him far better than I'll ever understand you, because whatever else you might say about him, he's willing to stand up for his convictions. You, Percy, are a coward plain and simple. And as such, you have no right to be here prosecuting two people who both have more honor than you." Harry's eyes narrowed to furious green slits. He'd heard, as he'd entered the room, the frenzied conclusion to Percy's closing argument, and he was seething with anger. No one talked that way about Hermione, NO one- least of all a self-righteous, hypocritical twit like Percy Weasley. He lowered his voice nearly to a growl. "So why don't you back the hell off Hermione, and go find yourself a nice, quiet place in which to grow a set and become a man!"
"Yeah," Ron added then, breaking into the stunned silence which now pervaded the room, "and when you're done with that, go on and give mum a call, won't you? She cries herself to sleep every night over you! She was able to deal with all the rest of us fighting in the war, better than she can deal with your betrayal. She doesn't know what to do, blames herself, says she must've done something wrong. You're driving her into an early grave!"
Percy was now positively crimson; he had just been completely taken to task, emasculated, scolded like a child, and had extremely private family issues aired like so much dirty laundry, in front of dozens and dozens of people, many of whom were his Ministry co-workers and acquaintances; people with whom he was in close contact on a daily basis. How would he ever live down this shame? And he hadn't even time to gather his wits about him and begin defending himself, before Harry had moved on- just dismissed him like that and moved on- to Marietta.
Who, for her part, cringed back a little the instant Harry's eyes lit on her, his outrage radiating off him now, in nearly tangible waves. If the tongue-lashing Percy had just taken was anything to judge by, she could guess what was coming and it wasn't good.
She guessed rightly.
"Marietta," Harry said. Unlike Percy, she didn't attempt to speak in her own defense; merely tilted her chin up defiantly, apparently determined to weather the storm of Harry's wrath as best she could, in silence.
"I have to wonder at this strategy of yours," Harry told her, "clearing the way for Malfoy's conviction by destroying any chance of sympathy for Hermione. Destroying any chance of sympathy for Hermione by carrying on about this supposed betrayal of me. I've followed this trial in the newspapers the last few days; I know all about the things that are being said. Again, you claim to speak on my behalf, going on about Hermione's treatment of me- yet again, you never bothered to ask me what I thought about the whole thing, did you?" He paused, shook his head. "And I must say, you've got some balls, Edgecombe- more than Percy, here, anyway- shouting about Hermione's so-called betrayal after what you did to me back in school."
Another shocked murmur ran through the crowd. Rita looked positively orgasmic- this was absolutely the mother lode of sensational news stories playing out right here in front of her; the highlight of her career.
Harry let the whispers die down before continuing to address the now mutinous-looking Marietta. "Your betrayal of me in fifth year was the worst I've ever suffered in my life- not because we were particularly close, but because of how completely senseless and vicious it was, and the lifelong damage it could very well have caused. If you'd had your way, I'd have been expelled from school! And if that had happened, I think we would be living in a very different world right now. Because without the guidance of my last two years at school, and the additional training I received after Hogwarts, which I never would have qualified for had I been expelled, there's no way I could have held it together out there on the battlefield. Hell, I barely survived as it is. You gambled with a lot of peoples' futures that day, Marietta, and for what? Hm?"
Marietta appeared determined to pursue her course of defiant silence, for all that she was now as red as Percy. So Harry answered for her.
"I'll tell you what for; you did it for the golden opportunity to kiss Umbridge's arse, because she looked to be in a position of power. And I'll tell you something else- if things had gone the way you'd planned, and I'd been thrown out, and Voldemort-" (nine tenths of those present in the courtroom winced at the name, for all that it's owner was now dead)- "was alive and in power today, I'd bet every galleon I have that you'd be kissing his arse with just as much enthusiasm!"
Marietta's face contorted at this; she finally managed a strangled, "how- dare- you?"
But if she was losing her temper, so was Harry. "How dare I? Because it's THE TRUTH!" he positively thundered. "It's the truth, Edgecombe, it's how you operate. You figure out where the power lies, and then you suck up to it! But I never would have known that about you if it hadn't been for Hermione, now, would I? What do you reckon, shall we tell these people the real reason you dislike her so much? It's not about anything she did to me, it's about what she did to you all those years ago. You want to see Hermione in exile for the rest of her life because of a personal vendetta- because she's the one who exposed you back in school, for the nasty little SNEAK you are!"
Marietta lost it. No one had ever spoken to her this way before- and the word 'sneak' would always incite a rather violent reaction in her. "You… you… bastard!" she choked out- then, to the astonishment of absolutely everyone present, threw herself at him and slapped him soundly right across the face.
The whip-crack sound of the slap, accompanied by the flash-and-click of Rita's camera capturing the moment for posterity, ricocheted around the courtroom, which had otherwise grown so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Harry stood his ground, staring levelly at Marietta; neither saying anything further- he'd made his point, thank you very much- nor giving up so much as an inch of ground. Marietta, for her part, staring at her handprint in red, blooming on his cheek, came to the sudden and career-shattering realization that she had just slapped the Boy Who Lived, the great hero of the Light, who was fresh from the hospital and barely able to stand upright, in full view of dozens upon dozens of people, inside a courtroom during a trial she was prosecuting- a time and place where she was supposed to behave with the utmost professionalism and decorum.
She guessed- and again correctly- (her guesses were displaying a near-psychic accuracy today, it seemed)- that her time as a rising-star prosecuting attorney had just come to an abrupt and publicly humiliating end. Bursting into tears, she turned and fled the room.
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Harry turned back toward the front of the room, once again addressing the panel of wizards there. "I'm sorry to have created a scene," he said with remarkable calm, considering how he'd been shouting moments ago. "But I've had it with others putting words in my mouth; I won't stand for it anymore. The prosecutors for this case each have their own agenda, which has very little to do with seeing justice served. And there is no justice whatsoever in their proposal to convict Hermione right along with Malfoy. She's committed no crime; she fought in the final battle under the colors of the Order! Furthermore, she is my best friend and I am eternally in Draco Malfoy's debt for having saved her. Malfoy began the battle on the wrong side, that's true. And yes, I'm sure he did kill people. So did I. So did Ron here; so did many in this room. Tragic as it is, that's not murder, its war. And Malfoy changed his allegiance before the end of the battle; changed it in time to save an Order member's life at the risk of his own. I ask you to consider this carefully, before you pronounce sentence on him. And consider one more thing, too- whatever happens between Hermione and me-" his green eyes sought out her brown ones, held them- "that's between Hermione and me. It's no one else's business, and it's no one else's right to demand that she be punished for it. Especially since that's the last thing I want. I would never, ever wish her unhappy, or in harm's way. So, er," and now all of a sudden the hero façade was cracking and he was reverting into plain old Harry once more, as uncomfortable in the public eye as he had ever been, and tired, and- yes, hurt as well- "that's it, then. A life sentence in Azkaban prison should not be taken lightly. And no innocent person should ever be made to suffer through it. Hermione doesn't deserve that. Um, thanks."
He was leaning heavily on Ron again by now, having exhausted just about all of his reserves of strength. There was an empty bench nearby, and Ron made for it, taking Harry with him, but they hadn't made it two steps before Hermione was upon them, having bolted from her seat, unable to control herself a moment longer. She hurled herself into both their arms, almost knocking them over, and just like that the golden trio was reunited, in the midst of a courtroom full of by-now completely stunned onlookers; Hermione all flushed face and mussed hair and eyes spilling over with emotion, wrapping her arms around both of their necks, whispering words only they could hear, words of love and gratitude, no doubt; and then Ron and Harry were holding her back, hesitantly at first- Harry in particular looking as though he hardly knew what to do with her- but then tighter and tighter until it was almost a fierce three-way hug, a display of friendship that had lasted them nearly half their lives, and Hermione was pulling their heads down until all three foreheads clunked together, brown hair mixing with red hair mixing with black.
Silver hair stayed at a slight distance, watching these carryings on with a mixture of envy and deep relief, as Rita's camera clicked and flashed, clicked and flashed.
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"We have come to a decision regarding the consequences of Mister Malfoy's actions prior to and during the Great Battle," the head of the panel stated gravely, regarding Draco where he stood, stoic and expressionless, ready to hear his fate, "and make no mistake, we feel that consequences are in order here."
This provoked no visible reaction from Draco, but there were others in the courtroom whose emotions were more transparent than his. Percy, for one, where he stood now as the sole representative of the prosecution, straightened up and preened a bit, hope restored that he had made his case after all; Hermione, back in her place with the spectators, now with Harry and Ron beside her, gave a tiny, wounded gasp and tilted her chin up a little higher, determined to be strong like her lover, but visibly devastated nonetheless- Ron wrapped one arm around her and pulled her tight to his side; Rita sat forward and licked her lips in anticipation- she hoped the sentence was harsh if for no other reason than it would take that little Granger bint down a peg or two, and how Rita would love to witness that- but no matter what the sentence was, it would be an absolute goldmine for her, and that was the important thing.
Everyone else in the room waited with bated breath.
After a dramatic pause to let his words sink in, the head wizard continued. "We have, however, given careful consideration to the words of Mister Potter, and have found them to contain both wisdom and truth. We could not in good conscience send an innocent person to Azkaban Prison, and Miss Granger is an innocent party here. The decisions she has made regarding her love life, however ill-advised-" (Hermione stiffened and gritted her teeth- of all the arrogant, judgmental things to say, who did he think he was-) "do in no way justify a sentence of life-imprisonment; and since there is, as we are all now aware, an irreversible binding spell between Miss Granger and the defendant, we cannot impose such a sentence on him without condemning her to the same fate. Moreover, we do believe that his decision, in the heat of battle, to forsake the Death Eaters and save Miss Granger's life was a sincere one, and not, as some would have us believe, merely a last-ditch effort to avoid a prison term. In defending her from other Death Eaters and carrying her to safety, he did much to mitigate his previous sins. Therefore, our sentence is this; Mister Malfoy is to submit to a year of house arrest, at Miss Granger's address in Hogsmeade Village, beginning at eight o'clock this evening. Records show this property to consist of a three-bedroom cottage with a small garden; under no circumstances is it to be magically enlarged or otherwise improved until the sentence is complete. He will be allowed to leave the grounds of his home for one hour per week, to apparate directly, and exclusively, to St. Mungo's hospital for the purpose of visiting his mother, who is a long-term patient there. In addition, he will be fined a sum of five million galleons, which will then be placed into Hogwarts scholarship funds for the orphans of this war and other deserving students."
The head wizard paused again, and looked around the room. The only sound was the furious scratching of Rita Skeeter's quill. Finally, "that will be all," he said. "Mister Malfoy, it is now-" he glanced down at his pocket-watch, then back up at Draco, who met his eyes with a steady, slate-grey gaze- "half past two in the afternoon. That gives you five and a half hours in which to settle whatever of your affairs need settling before your sentence is imposed. This will include, of course, paying your fine; a cursory examination of recent Malfoy financial records suggests to this court that you should be capable of paying it immediately, and in full. You will not want to be caught outside your home past eight o'clock tonight, so I suggest you get on with it. This court is now adjourned. Good day."
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(A/N: Hey, will you allow me to pimp a new fic to you? If you're still reading, I'll take that as a yes! I just got through participating in another D/Hr fic exchange- two of my previous fics, "What a Difference a Night Makes" and "The Reason" were written for similar exchanges in the past- so now I have a new fic up, chapter 1 posted today! The fic is completed already, and successive chapters will be posted every single week, Thursday night / Friday morning over the next month or so- so no long waits! It's called "A Lovely Delirium", and it has sort of a fun action/adventure theme. Check it out? You'd make me very happy! BTW- there are a ton of really high quality D/Hr fics archived over there at the exchange site, so email me if you want the link.)