Draco Malfoy stomped through the dark corridors of the Ministry as they headed for the courtroom where his mother's trial would soon be conducted, his hands in his pockets, a scowl on his face.

It had taken only a few weeks for Draco's relief of the Dark Lord's passing to wear off, for his hope of a future to dim to despair. Once the arrests started and reporters descended upon the homes of former Death Eaters, his temperament soured, his patience wore thin. He began to question what it had all been for, struggling not to curse every witch or wizard who snarled in his face or took his picture, who hounded him with questions and filled the papers with vicious accusations and desired punishments. Now, his entire family was to be subject to trials to determine whether or not they should be punished for their part in the Dark Lord's war. His father could go back to Azkaban…

He could be sent to Azkaban.

His mood a thunderous cloud of anxiety and resentment, Draco turned the corner toward his mother's assigned hearing room and saw Amaris Grey pushing off the wall she had been leaning against to hurry to his side.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted accusingly.

They had seen very little of each other since the Dark Lord's demise. She had been targeted for investigation by the Ministry since both her uncle and her fiancé were known Death Eaters, and in the meantime, she had been tasked with putting her late uncle's estate in order. Her name was completely cleared within weeks, of course, but he had been warned to avoid being seen with her since he was still under investigation as a Death Eater.

Apparently, she hadn't gotten the same lecture, because she struggled to keep pace with him.

"To support your mother, of course," she said, and his old, familiar jealousies and insecurities flared up instantly. She was here for his mother, not him. He scoffed. Her hand gently landed on his arm and he instantly jerked away from her. "Draco—"

"What?" he snapped.

"It's going to be alright," she said gently. "She'll be cleared. I know she will."

Draco tensed. She thought he was upset because he was worried? He was, of course. He wouldn't quit worrying until he and his parents were cleared, but his temper wasn't just anxiety about the trials. He was anxious because all of her reasons for marrying him died with her uncle. They hadn't talked about it. Not once.

Lord Voldemort was dead, but his future was still so uncertain, and the more time that passed, the bleaker it seemed to become.

"Suddenly you're a Seer now, are you?" he sneered. "Did the stars' alignment tell you that?"

Amaris didn't immediately respond, just hurried along beside him. "You're right," she said at length. "I'm sorry, Draco."

Her apology made him angrier. He stopped walking and whirled to face her. She nearly bumped into him.

"I was speaking with assurances I can't give," she continued. "It isn't fair or helpful, no matter how much I want it to be true. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" he nearly shouted. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not—"

"Why are you here?"

"I told you—"

"To support my mother," he said, cutting her off, "but why? The Dark Lord is dead, your uncle is dead. You needn't bother with the charade."

"What charade?" she asked, her face a picture of confusion.

"That you're my dutiful fiancée."

She gaped at him like a fish, mouth opening and closing with words she couldn't quite work out of her throat. "I… That's not…"

"Don't you get it?" he hissed an inch from her face. "You don't have to marry me anymore!" He stepped around her, refusing to meet her eyes any longer. "You have no reason to be here."

Behind him, Amaris sucked in a shuddering breath. Draco kept walking, his pace brisk, tears stinging his eyes. His heart pounded, squeezed violently in his chest until it ached with pain. He walked into the courtroom's vestibule and slammed the door behind him, leaning against it as he struggled to catch his breath. He listened to the stillness, listened for the clack of shoes on marble, wondering if she would follow him.

Draco pressed his palms into his eyes, panic seizing him. What had he done? It was all unraveling faster than he could track. He felt crushed under the aftermath of the Dark Lord's demise. The papers printed article after article about the Malfoy family's losses, their disgrace, their pending trials, speculated on how their story would end—as if this was it, the end of their story. As though none of them would escape the clutches of their mistakes. As though they would all be sent to Azkaban where they would fade from memory. He hated them all—Purebloods and Half-bloods and Muggle-borns alike. He had had enough of their stares—the scorn, the pity, the judgment.

Amaris had been his only light for two years. He hadn't meant to push her away, but he had been so certain she would abandon him that he had blurted out those hateful words before he could stop himself. He knew she didn't hate him like everyone else did, but that didn't mean she wouldn't leave him. She had always been careful in her wording whenever they spoke about the arranged marriage, careful to never to discuss her feelings for him…

The sound of heels on the marble penetrated the thick, wooden door.

Draco's hands dropped to his side and he stared up at the dark ceiling, hoping she would follow him, that the doorknob would turn and she would come in after him. He had wanted her to tell him she was there because she wanted to be. He wanted her to tell him that she didn't have to marry him, that she wanted to marry him.

But the sound of heels moved farther and farther away until everything was quiet except for the sound of Draco's breathing. He waited, held his breath, but the door never opened.

-o-

Draco did not see Amaris again until the fifth day of his trial proceedings several months later. It was October. He had heard she had returned to Hogwarts to repeat her seventh year and officially graduate, so it shocked him when they called her name to testify. He sat straighter in his chair in the center of the room and refused to look at her when she walked in.

"State your name for the record," the interrogator said.

"Amaris Grey."

They asked her several questions about who she was, her uncle, and the investigation set upon her following the Dark Lord's demise. Draco assumed it was to cement her good name. During their questioning, he briefly glanced in her direction. Just the sight of her shoes made his head snap forward again.

"Please explain your relationship to the defense."

"We were classmates at Hogwarts," she said evenly, "and, for a time, I was his fiancée."

There was a rustling in the gallery as observers and interrogators alike whispered to one another.

"You are here to speak on his behalf?"

"I am."

The murmurs continued until the primary interrogator, a wizard named Tremaine, clanged his gavel.

"Go ahead," he said when the gallery was quiet.

The first two days of his trial had been discovery—a parade of evidence of his crimes, mostly testimonial—and character witnesses, of which Potter, the savior, was brought in to explain the extent of their rivalry while at Hogwarts. The third day had begun his defense, of which Draco barely participated in. He answered their questions when he had to, but he refused to bleat his remorse, to beg for their understanding. He would never bare his heart to them. They did not care that he had no choice, that he had been forced to do what he did. They wanted to blame someone, wanted to punish those they perceived as guilty. If he showed them his heart, they would stab him there.

As Draco did little but answer their questions, the fourth day opened with witnesses in his defense, and he was surprised to see Potter had returned to recount the night of Dumbledore's murder, the day when Draco had refused to identify him to his family, and how he had refused to attack him in the Room of Requitement during the Battle for Hogwarts. Potter spouted his nonsense that he thought Draco had changed. That though he did not like him, he might have misjudged him.

More witches and wizards were brought in—his teachers and friends, mostly. And now, on the fifth and final day, here was Amaris to tell the whole wizarding world what kind of bastard he had been. Except she wouldn't, would she? Because she was too nice for that. He would rather she hate him, but instead she would finish him off with her kindness, a graver death blow than condemning him to Azkaban. Because if he could fester on hatred for her, it would be less painful than mourning the loss of her.

"Draco was raised to believe in Pureblood values," Amaris began, "and his attitude reflected it for most of our childhood, but deep down, it was not who he was, not who he is." She took a deep breath. "Like most Pureblood witches, I was to be entered into an arranged marriage," she explained, briefly going through the details of her uncle's attempt to sell her off and his mother's desire to bring the two of them together. "We were not immediately engaged, however. Draco and I were not friends," she told them, her voice clear and sturdy. "He did not even like me and had no desire to marry me."

"Why not?"

"Because of what I am," she said, and Draco's entire body went rigid. He tilted his head in her direction, wanting to warn her not to say it, but he couldn't look at her. "I am what most of Pureblood society would call a blood traitor. I was taught that any person possessing of magic has a place in our society, and thus have always supported Muggle-borns and counted them among my friends."

The temperature of the room had shifted with the unexpected declaration. To these people, the term had become nearly as offensive as Mudblood. Draco risked a glance up at his mother in the gallery, rigid with what he assumed was shock, her expression as hard as stone. He couldn't tell if she was angry that she had unknowingly almost allowed a blood traitor into their family or mortified that her son had known his fiancée was a blood traitor when he decided he wanted to marry her.

"Everyone at school knew this, including Draco," she said, seemingly oblivious to the unrest she had caused. "He was among many who teased me for it. But the summer of our seventh year, he was the one to initiate our engagement."

Tremaine narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, briefly glancing at Draco before he asked, "Why did he agree to that?"

"He was trying to protect me."

"From who?"

"The Dark Lord and his followers," she answered, "and from another engagement." There was another hushed murmur that was immediately cut off with a bang of the gavel. Amaris continued, "My uncle had entered into an agreement with the Goyles against my wishes, and planned to use the Imperius Curse to force me to make my vows."

An upset murmur rocketed through the crowd that took three bangs of the gavel to silence.

"Draco intervened. He knew that if I was exposed, I would be killed. He risked everything to protect me—his family, his life—and was willing to sacrifice his future happiness. He even fought at my side during the Battle of Hogwarts."

Draco glared at the ground, feeling the pitiful stares of every witch and wizard in the gallery as they listened to Amaris, the only idiot in the room who hadn't figured out the truth: that he did what he did because he loved her. It was so obvious, it was humiliating. He wanted to shout at her. How could she be so stupid? Had she really not heard herself? What fool would marry someone they didn't like just to protect them? He wouldn't have made the same offer to any other witch in the world and she should have realized that by now! Idiot. Idiot!

"He told me himself that he did not want to do what the Dark Lord made him do, but that he didn't have a choice. His family was under constant threat. I believe with all of my heart that he regretted his role in all of the horrible things that happened and that all of his actions hence prove that he has changed."

"You sound certain of this," a female interrogator said, "but how can you know for sure? You said before that you were not friends."

"I have encountered every facet of Draco's temperament since First Year, from the way he bullied me, to his indifference, and, in the end, our friendship. He is not the villain you think he is… Draco is a remarkable wizard, intelligent, logical, and clever, and he has a great and incredibly underestimated capacity for love. I beg of you, have faith in him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw her bow and then heard her feet patter across the floor, carrying her out of the room. For the first time since the trial proceedings had started, the room was entirely silent. Draco numbly stared at the ground.

She was gone. She was gone and he hadn't even looked at her. He would probably never see her again, and he hadn't had the courage to take one last look at her face. He wanted to jump up and go after her. He wanted to curl up on the ground and scream. But he just sat there in numb silence and waited for the verdict to be handed down.

He was so numb that he felt only the slightest flicker of surprise when the court pronounced him cleared of all charges.

-o-

The house was empty save for Draco and his mother, his father awaiting trial in Azkaban. It was no longer dark and cold like it had been under the Dark Lord's reign, but it had yet to reclaim its warmth or light, lingering in a lukewarm limbo of gray.

"Draco," his mother said, stopping him in his tracks halfway across the foyer. He didn't turn around to face her, counting the agonizing seconds before she spoke. "Is it true?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

There was a moment of quiet before she said, "You loved her."

He almost choked on his own breath before he turned to look at her, her face ashen with grief. He had always known that Amaris being a blood traitor would matter to his parents, hadn't he? But it still hurt to see just how mortified she was as the truth caught up to her. It reminded him once again that a future where he and Amaris were happy together had always been wishful thinking.

"You did," she said, reading the answer on his face.

Draco tried to walk away again—his nerves were threading, he didn't want to talk about this—but she stopped him with a firm call of his name.

"Why did you end the engagement?"

"Because," he shouted, his control unraveling as he spun around, "she didn't want to marry me!"

He had never shouted at his mother before and he stood there gasping for breath in abject horror at the pain on her face.

"She loved you, Draco," she whispered.

"Stop saying that!" he bellowed. "She was kind to everyone! It had nothing to do with me."

"But you were so close. I saw the way she looked at you."

"Stop it," he cried, his breath coming so quickly that he thought his lungs were seizing. "Don't you understand? You were wrong! You were wrong about everything, about the Dark Lord and Purebloods and about her! You made me believe we were better, that he was the answer…but you were afraid! We have lost everything we had, everything that you made me believe was so important!"

"We haven't lost everything, Draco," she said, drawing closer. "We have each other. That's all that matters."

He hiccupped in an effort to hold in his tears. He shook his head as she came near. "She mattered," he rasped. "She mattered to me…"

"Oh, Draco," his mother whispered, pulling him into an embrace. He clutched her tightly and sobbed into her shoulder. "I know it hurts now, but everything will be all right." She gently stroked his hair, cradling his head against her cheek. "I promise."

And though he was raw with misery and betrayal, he still wanted to believe her just like he always had.

By Christmas, the entire Malfoy family had been cleared of all charges and were reunited. Their joy and relief quickly faded, however, as the world continued to turn and nothing changed—which was to say, everything had changed from the way it used to be. The Malfoys were pariahs, and so they withdrew entirely from the public eye, their name forever tarnished.

And Draco never saw Amaris again.


Author's Note: I know it looks bleak right now but I promise a happy ending! I just think that Draco probably really struggled after Voldemort's death to find his foothold in the new society and deal with all of the things he did and things he witnessed. He would need time to work through all of his pain. And while I wanted to stick to the canon that the Malfoy family did not go to Azkaban, I think there would have at least been trials to determine this rather than them just getting a free pass.