It had been years since Draco had stepped foot in one of the cold, austere courtrooms on the tenth floor. Despite his Auror training, he hadn't advanced to the point of submitting or presenting cases, and in most instances, the Aurors weren't the ones to speak at the trials anyway unless asked directly to testify. In this situation, however, some would be present.
Chilly trepidation raced through him to realise his own trial had been the last he'd attended, back when he was scarcely eighteen.
Hermione had arranged to reschedule her session with Healer Huxley that day to provide her support, and apparently, Huxley meant to attend as well.
It was the part Draco hated the most about such high profile cases. Most of the wizarding world sought to attend―and he knew this one would be no different. Especially when four former Death Eaters were involved, and their attempted jailbreak had been largely considered an act of treason―a thwarted Death Eater resurgence.
Unsurprisingly, the trial was to be held in the largest courtroom.
Draco stopped to retrieve Hermione before the trial, unwilling and unable to dredge forth the fortitude it would have taken him to step through the doors alone. Feeling the stares and the judgement. They would be meeting Theo―as one of the investigating Aurors, Potter wouldn't be sitting with them―and Andromeda in advance of noon.
Hermione clung to his hand, clad in a pretty slate grey dress as he led her through the Ministry, wishing he had it in him to show her around more as they walked. As it was, he simply hoped his breakfast wouldn't threaten to make a second appearance. He ought to have decided on just a cup of tea to settle his stomach.
She scanned their surroundings with wide eyes as Draco led her from the Atrium towards the lifts, and she jolted slightly as several paper memos fluttered in after them.
To the rest of the Ministry, it was a Monday as usual.
Draco felt sick.
"You don't look so good," she said gently. "Are you certain you want to do this?"
He blinked several times, suppressing the moisture that threatened at the corners of his eyes. "Yes, of course." He only tightened his grip, but to her credit, she didn't wince when he realised how tightly he held her hand. He loosened his fingers with a grimace. "I can't very well not be here."
They only had two floors to descend from the Atrium to level ten, but a pair of Unspeakables boarded the lift on level nine. Draco cast Hermione a glance as her eyes widened at their dark robes and ominous countenances, and he made a mental note to share more information about the Ministry with her when he was in a better frame of mind. Maybe he would even take her for a tour; it seemed like the sort of thing she might like. Neither Unspeakable acknowledged the presence of anyone else aside from the way they broke off their conversation abruptly as they boarded.
When the lift pinged to a stop on level ten all too soon, Draco found his feet unable to move forward.
It was preposterous when he understood the law better than most. He knew the stakes and the circumstances; his father had already spent years in Azkaban for his many crimes.
This should be no different. In fact, it should be easier.
With a sigh, Hermione looped an arm around his back and laid her face briefly against his chest when the lift door began to slide shut once more. Draco jammed the button to hold it in place.
"We can go if you want," she whispered. "Nothing that happens today depends on your presence."
His breaths came a little faster, heart galloping into a sprint. His mouth felt too dry to swallow.
"I have to," he choked at last. "If I don't show up―"
"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." When his eyes shifted to land on her once more, his entire being wound like a spring, he could see her eyes were glassy. "I won't think any less of you if you don't want to watch this."
For a brief, fleeting instant, he wanted to run. To smash the buttons of the lift as fast as possible, to get away from the Ministry and the Auror's office and hide like the coward he had been—still wanted to be most of the time.
"I can't," he ground out, slipping his fingers to the button to open the door instead. "I have to face this." He pressed a kiss into her curls, tidy and meticulously styled for the occasion. "But thank you. I can't say how much your support means."
Hermione stepped back, taking his hand into hers once more, and she brushed a kiss to his palm. "Of course, Draco. I'm right here."
So many things swirled through the back of his mind, and he didn't even know how to confront most of them. He thought he had come to terms with the matter of his father; as they emerged into the corridor outside of the courtroom, however, so many of his old doubts and insecurities came crashing back in.
Eyes followed him as they walked towards the courtroom, and Draco lifted his chin, forcing some shred of pride into his stance that he didn't feel. Not even close.
But surely he could pretend.
He wasn't that scared boy anymore. The shadow of his father no longer haunted his steps, and Draco had spent years in the Auror's office attempting to prove himself. Today was simply another test.
Whispers lifted―and outright insults, muttered loud enough for him to hear―and Draco fixed his expression with as much disdain as he could manage as he navigated the crowd. He found Theo and Andromeda outside of the courtroom, hating the sympathy in their stares.
"Hello," he managed with a terse nod.
Draco wished his mother were there―while in equal measure, he was glad she wasn't. He didn't know that her heart would have been able to withstand the strain. Andromeda released a breath, reaching for him, while Theo simply slung an arm around his shoulders. Surrounded by the people who cared about him most, Draco felt much younger than his age.
Across the hall, his gaze landed on Auror Robards, briefing with several senior Aurors; the man gave him a single sharp nod which Draco returned, grateful he hadn't run off after all.
Robards walked over, clapping a hand to Draco's shoulders as his gaze drifted to Hermione. "Miss Granger," Robards said. "It's an honour to have you back with us. My name is Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror's Office."
"Oh," she breathed, offering a smile. "Of course. I've heard all about you."
"Not all bad, I hope," Robards muttered with a polite smile. "Auror Malfoy―a moment, please?"
Untangling his hand from Hermione's, Draco jammed his hands into his pockets and squared his shoulders as his supervisor led him to an empty space at the opposite end of the corridor.
"I'm glad you came," Robards said without preamble. "Although I can only imagine none of this has been easy. How are you holding up?"
"Well, sir," Draco bit out.
Amusement played about Robards' lips. "Liar. But I appreciate the effort. You don't need to be okay with this; I sure as hell wouldn't be."
Draco ducked his chin. "In all honesty, sir," he said quietly, "I thought I would handle it better. I suppose, although he's been in Azkaban, it never felt as final as this."
There was little point in pretence when they both knew well enough how the trial would play out. The chance at an acquittal, or even a lenient sentence, was slim.
"I understand." Robards drew in a long breath, his hard eyes landing on Draco once more. "Regardless, once this is all wrapped up, I'll be happy to have you return to the office―if everything still stands as it was the last time we spoke."
"Of course."
"Good." With another sharp nod, Robards adjusted his glasses and glanced at his watch. "We're about to begin."
With that, he strode back towards the courtroom, Draco pacing at his side. But the man carried on, leaving Draco to reconvene with Hermione, Theo, and Andromeda.
The last minutes ticked down, leaving Draco scarcely able to make sense of anything until the crowd began to funnel into the courtroom. Pressing his eyes shut for a moment as he drew in a deep breath, Draco walked into the unfriendly courtroom. The air felt several degrees colder inside, and he selected a spot on one of the benches towards the back of the room, Hermione and Theo on either side of him.
As the room filled to capacity, Draco noticed Healer Huxley. He nodded and slipped into the open seat beside Andromeda.
The charges on his father were the same as those laid upon Lestrange, Dolohov, and Yaxley, but the trials were to be held individually, as they all had different prison sentences. In Draco's estimation, it wouldn't matter if they were all up for the Kiss.
But the Ministry liked to play with its food―they always had.
And for as much as he attempted to prepare himself for the trial, he wasn't ready for the moment when two guards led his father into the room, hands and feet bound by invisible shackles. Draco's eyes widened as he leaned forward ever so slightly in his seat.
Hermione's hand grazed his, and he clung hard to her fingers.
The last time he had seen his father, Lucius Malfoy had been almost unrecognisable. Today, beyond the silvery-blond of his hair and the deep sneer on his face, Draco might not have even known the man to be his father.
Theo blew out a long breath at his other side. "Looks strange without all the hair, doesn't he?"
"Yeah," Draco breathed, grateful for the diversion. "Never knew him without it."
And for a moment, he was a young boy again, desperate for his father's approval. Lucius' gaze roved the crowd just briefly before he was shackled into his seat, his cold grey eyes narrowing when they landed on Draco.
But Draco merely inclined his chin, clenching Hermione's hand tightly in his own, and Lucius' upper lip curled as he turned back to the front. The guards forced him into the seat at the centre of the room, and Draco felt a swoosh of breath deflate his lungs.
Just like that, the spell broke. And Draco squared his jaw, settled in, and listened as the trial commenced.
Hours later, he didn't remember a word that was spoken.
Draco's head spun, his stomach churned with an onslaught of nausea, and bile lingered at the back of his throat as he stood in a small antechamber off the courtroom with a small group.
Through a pane of glass, the officials had lined up the condemned prisoners―exactly as Draco knew they would be.
No one had been surprised upon the declaration of each verdict. Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty.
Andromeda had gone home, but Hermione and Theo stayed, the former pale and the latter grinding his jaw. Robards walked up alongside Draco as though in solidarity, but he didn't speak. There was nothing more to be said. In his periphery, he caught sight of Potter joining Theo.
A soft gasp of shock escaped Hermione's lips when a Dementor drifted into the room on the other side of the glass. Draco swallowed, forcing back the sickness that threatened within him. Whether from some sort of spell imbued in the glass, or by one of the corporeal Patronuses that prowled the room, he couldn't feel the cold or the despair.
"Look away," he breathed, planting a kiss against Hermione's temple. "You don't need to watch this."
Draco had never seen the Dementor's Kiss performed in person before, and a sick, morbid curiosity crept through him as the Dementor approached Lestrange. Despite himself, his lip curled with a deep-seated, cruel sort of satisfaction. Both Rodolphus and Rabastan had haunted Draco's dreams for months after the war.
He hadn't anticipated the relief he would feel as the man slumped to the floor, a smoky black wisp drifting free. It was anticlimactic, really, and he wasn't certain what he had been expecting.
Maybe that was why Robards had been so careful to seek him out not once but twice now. He curled his fingers around Draco's shoulder as the Dementor slithered towards Dolohov, then Yaxley.
"Alright, Malfoy?" Robards asked, his gaze locked on the pane of glass.
Draco nodded. "Yeah."
Hermione grimaced at his side, recoiling a little, and although she and Theo both looked nauseous, neither had turned away.
Time felt as though it stalled out once more, and Draco wasn't sure whether the glass was transparent from the other side, but he could have sworn Lucius' cold stare landed on him for a long, extended moment as the Dementor approached him.
When he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, Hermione's arm pressed against his. But Draco remained frozen, his eyes unblinking as he watched the soul drawn from his father in another wisp of smoke, as simple yet life-altering as the other three.
A quiet huff of breath fell from his lips.
A shiver darted, unbidden, along the length of his spine, and he scrubbed at his eyes.
Someone cast a spell, and with a brief flash of magic, the transparency of the glass went opaque, obscuring what remained on the other side. Draco knew the four prisoners were technically still alive, though there was little point to it anymore. They would return to Azkaban, kept alive in body only, when all they had once been was now lost.
But it meant he didn't need to coordinate a burial―yet.
He dreaded telling his mother of the outcome, though he suspected she knew as well as he did how it was all going to play out. She hadn't decided to remain silent that morning for nothing. In the core of his being, Draco feared Narcissa wouldn't hold up from the news.
The last of his strength had drained from him through the trial and sentencing; all Draco wanted to do at that moment was return home and sleep.
As the antechamber cleared out, Draco felt oddly numb, as though it might take several hours or days to process the truth of it all. Or maybe he was just at the point where nothing shocked him anymore.
Draco wondered what that said about the way his life had played out recently.
"Are you ready to go?" Hermione asked quietly, remaining at his side as he stared at the darkened pane.
Jolting to the present, he nodded. "Yeah."
Theo and Potter each muttered something he scarcely caught before making their way back into the corridor beyond. Robards walked away to confer with the officials, leaving only Draco and Hermione in the room.
"Do you want to be alone?" she said again, her tone even and gentle. He could tell she would have been fine with whatever he said, and, not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to deserve her.
"No," he muttered, wrenching a hand through his hair. "Merlin, no."
"Okay." She tugged him from the room, her fingers curling tight around his own, and she breathed, "Let's go home."
Each of his steps felt heavy, his soul weary and gaze unfocused as Draco allowed Hermione to guide him back to the lift. They were among the last to ascend from the tenth floor, and they were the only two in the lift.
"I'm sorry, Draco," she said, expressing the condolences that had bounced off of him from everyone else.
From her, they crashed upon him like a wave breaking on the coast, and he turned to face her at last. "It's alright." He made his best effort at a smile. "Thank you for being here with me today; you certainly didn't need to. I feel bad that you've come into my life when so many things have gone wrong, and I can't introduce you to my parents."
A smile curled her lips―a mixture between teasing and devastation. "I can't very well introduce you to mine, either, as I've no clue where they are―and from what you've said, they don't remember me anyway. So... aren't we the pair."
To his surprise, he barked a laugh. "Indeed we are." He pulled her a little closer as they emerged into the Atrium, ignoring the stares. "Though I suppose there's a chance you might still find your parents yet. Once you've got your memory back and know better what happened. There was no record of them in Australia during the investigation into your case. Maybe Huxley can help them, too."
"The mystery continues," she murmured.
Draco pulled her into one of the Floo portals, transporting them both back to his flat, and he dragged her in for a kiss, desperate to feel some of the warmth that had been dredged from within him over the course of the day.
But a deep bone-weariness settled over him, and he stifled a wide yawn as he drew back.
Hermione removed his robes with gentle hands, undressing him to his shorts, and fixed him with a soft stare. "Get some rest," she urged, helping him to bed and tucking him beneath the covers. Then she removed her dress, slipped in beside him, and wrapped him tight in her arms.
Within minutes, Draco drifted into sleep, lulled by the gentle pulse of her heart.
Draco floated in and out of a fitful sleep for hours, terrors haunting his rest. Death Eaters, and giant snakes, and the Azkaban-deadened look in his father's eyes.
He awoke at last with a start, drawing in a sharp breath, a cold sweat prickling his temples. Scrubbing at his eyes, he felt Hermione's stare already on him where she sat against the headboard with a hefty book in her lap and her legs folded beneath her.
Draco grimaced. "Was I asleep long?"
"A few hours," she murmured, sadness pulling at her brow. "It's nearly seven. How are you feeling?"
With a deep, steadying breath to banish the images that lingered behind his eyelids, he sat up alongside her, still entirely spent of energy. As a result, he sagged against her shoulder and sank into the urge to rest his face beside hers. "Not great, but I'll survive. Thank you for staying―you didn't have to."
Hermione clicked her tongue as though the statement were ridiculous. "I wasn't going anywhere. Would you like something to eat? Or a cuppa, perhaps?"
At the thought of food, his stomach twisted in on itself, reminding him he'd scarcely managed any breakfast that morning and hadn't eaten since. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he nuzzled a little further into her. "I should eat."
She eyed him a moment longer, the usual sparkle in her chocolate eyes dulled. "You really don't look well." Placing the back of one hand to his brow, she added, "You're clammy. I think you might be breaking a fever."
"I'll be fine," Draco slurred, breathing in the fruity scent of her curls. "Just had a bad dream."
Sinking a little, she carded a hand through his damp hair without regard. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered. "That, today... it was barbaric."
He didn't care to talk about the trial, his father, or anything to do with either. But he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut, to draw from the comfort she offered. "It's the way it is." His voice lowered to a breath. "None of them deserved another chance. And you'd probably agree with me if you could remember everything."
"Still," she whispered. "It doesn't mean you need to be okay with it. If you want to talk about it... I'm here."
"The part that worries me the most," he mused, "is that my mother isn't going to deal with any of this very well at all. My father might have been a right arse and made some monstrous decisions, but they loved each other."
Hermione carried on stroking a hand through his hair, her touch warming the ice that had settled within him at the sight of the Dementors, even if he hadn't been able to feel the actual cold. In a way, her presence banished the terrors more than he ever could have done on his own.
"I'm sorry," she only said again. "I wish there was something I could do to help."
"You," Draco said, withdrawing from her shoulder and meeting her stare, "have already done more than you realise. Thank you for being with me today." He planted a lingering kiss to her lips, conflicted emotions swirling through him. "I love you."
As always, the words felt and sounded foreign on his lips. The gentle warmth that flooded her face had to be reserved for someone else. "I love you too, Draco."
He grimaced, averting his gaze. "I'm not very good at this, and I don't usually know the right things to say, but you've made all of this so much easier to deal with." Twisting his mouth to the side, he hesitated. "And I'm not entirely sure where all this would have left me if it weren't for you."
Something unreadable flickered across her face, followed by a despairing smile. "Of course, Draco."
Draco clung to her hand for a moment, not quite able to make sense of the thoughts spinning through his head. But he couldn't manage to force the last one into words. Please don't leave when you remember me.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading xo
Alpha and beta love to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel
