Chapter three: Innocent Until Proven Guilty

The Hogwarts Express sped down the track towards Hogsmeade Station right on time. Students on board conversed merrily within its sheltered compartments, free of interruptions. The chatter among the adolescents was mainly revolving around the summer, and of a new term. One blonde student in particular, slunk away from his "friends" – if you could call them that – and was currently occupying his own compartment.

Draco Malfoy was currently sprawled across the seat in his empty compartment, head resting against the cold windowpane. For once, he'd gotten rid of Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. That was until they realised he had left them. The group was constantly by his side and although they could be useful when he needed things done for him, they got on his nerves sometimes. At least Blaise was more of an equal.

Then again, he was lucky to be here. It was a lucky chance for Hogwarts to even be open. The Wizengamot had wanted to expel Draco for his actions of the previous year. Draco glanced out over the vast country terrain outside the window as he thought back to his trial. What a nerve racking day that had been, in front of the entire Wizengamot…

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"The charges, as follow, concur with Mr. Draco Abraxus Malfoy, aged seventeen years, resident of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. The interrogation will be led by Rufus Scrimegeour, Minister of Magic. Witnesses for the prosecution are Harry James Potter. Witnesses for the defence are none. Mr. Malfoy you are charged with helping Death Eaters into the castle, attempted murder of the first degree, and service to You-Know-Who," read a stout-faced man to the left hand side of the minister. Percy Weasley, the closest to Draco, was already scribbling away, his quill making eerily loud scratching sounds on parchment.

Draco looked up from rigid wooden seat he was chained to, staring blankly at the faces of the Wizengamot. It was his first time in this dungeon ever, the cleanliness and formality of it all bothering him just a bit. He no longer welcomed so much attention, all the eyes staring at him and such. However, his facial expression showed no emotion what so ever. He knew he must never show sentiment to the world.

Mr. Scrimegeour stared down at him with a lion-like gaze. His eyes were of the oddest appearance, neither cold nor warming. His voice was rough as he spoke.

"You are Draco Abraxus Malfoy, are you not?"

"I am," Malfoy replied in a steady tone, his voice icy.

"Your family has a history of service to the Dark Lord, are you aware of that?"

"Of course," he hissed. Yet his expression was still blank all the while.

"Did you by means of Vanishing Cabinets, smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Draco once more nodded, yet did not speak. A few witches in the back row seemed to whisper animatedly to each other about Draco, making large and flamboyant hand gestures as they did. Thus, earning the annoyed glances of those seated around them. Scrimegeour seemed pleased that Draco was acting so cooperatively.

"Were you, or were you not, servicing the Dark Lord on orders to assassinate one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?" Scrimegeour asked, his expression slightly on the fierce side, looking solemn.

"I was," Malfoy responded, his voice not faltering at all, holding his silent staring contest with the Minister. More whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire. A few ladies even uttered little "Oh mys!" here and there.

"Are you under alliance with He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named at the present time?"

Draco paused a moment, his gaze shifting purposely around the room before focusing back on the minister.

"No," he answered simply, raising his eyebrow as if daring Scrimegeour to challenge him on that question.

"Show us your left forearm," Rufus stated firmly, the left shackle on Draco's chair loosening for him. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but rolled up his left sleeve and raised his forearm. There was nothing there except smooth pale skin.

"Very well, what do you plead?"

There was silence once more, as Draco hung his head, white-blonde hair spilling into his face. He looked as if thinking whether to plead innocent or guilty. A few moments later he looked up, but made no move to fix his hair.

"Innocent."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed a bald wizard in the middle of the stands. The other members of the Wizengamot seemed to agree almost instantly. The evidence against him was incriminating. There was no way Draco could talk himself out of this one without help. The minister sighed, a look of annoyance crossing his lion-like features.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you intend to clear yourself of all charges when you've no witnesses for the defence, nor denied anything related to the evidence, besides not being a Death Eater?" he asked, as if he was bored. He stroked his mane of a beard with another sigh.

Draco was at a loss for words. Yet, his expression was still as cold as ice. He had once said he didn't care if he was expelled, but his mind had changed once he realised what his father really wanted for him. Heck, it was a wonder that the school was even being kept open. Originally, the governors planned on closing the school until the war was over, but in the end, they had found Dumbledore's will. It had been written, that should his time come in recent events, Hogwarts should stay open for the good of the students, and that Minerva McGonagall should take over as Headmistress. Dumbledore had also written a short note that proclaimed his wishes that Draco be aloud to return to Hogwarts if he wanted to. It was, to Draco, perplexing as to how Dumbledore had known any of this before hand. Yet Dumbledore had told him that night how he'd known all along. All along, and Dumbledore had still wanted to help Draco…

"…he threatened to kill me." The words shot out of Malfoy's mouth before he even knew that he was saying. Inside, he knew he shouldn't have said a word, yet he did. "He said he'd kill me and my whole family." Every trace of colour was gone from Draco's pale face now as he spoke. He finally realised what he had done and stopped speaking immediately.

The Minister nodded. " I see…" The silence in the dungeon like room was almost unbearable, and Draco wanted to scream, holler, break something – anything to break the silence.

"Witness for the prosecution? Please rise," Scrimegeour said finally.

Draco looked over now to Harry, his pointed features instantly contorting into the natural sneer he wore when Potter was around. For a moment, the gazes of the two met, and Draco was taken aback at how Harry's hate-filled look was almost… understanding of Draco's situation.

"Sir, I believe Malfoy is innocent."

Harry had thought long and hard about this while watching the trial. At first, he wanted to tear Malfoy to pieces, limb by limb, the Muggle way, and listen to his cowardly whining… but his conscience wouldn't let him. No matter how much he loathed the blonde wizard before him, he wouldn't resort to that type of behaviour. As the trial progressed, Harry had grown sombre as he remembered his former Headmaster. He had a copy of Dumbledore's will in his hands, and he had read it so many times that the edges of the paper were ripped and tattered.

Everything Dumbledore has said that night rang in Harry's thoughts. Malfoy wasn't a killer. Voldemort had just threatened him and his family. He'd seen Malfoy crying about not being able to do it for Merlin's sake! But then again, what about Slughorn's party? Draco's talk with Snape? Surely, he had wanted the glory and praise from Voldemort then… and Harry I hated /I Malfoy. All he ever did was torment and ridicule Ron, Hermione, and himself. He came from a horrible background too. It served him right to be expelled, maybe even take his father's place in Azkaban. That would teach him not to be such a slimy git…

But thoughts of Dumbledore centred in Harry's mind again, and Harry was leaning towards the conclusion that maybe his Headmaster would like it if he threw the Slytherin a break. A second chance – just as Dumbledore was prepared to do on that fateful night. He would have wanted Draco to return to Hogwarts, cleared of all charges, and start over…

"I'm not doing this for Malfoy. I'm doing this for Dumbledore," Harry stated clearly aloud, "I was there…er...in the tower that night, as you all know. And when Malfoy barged in, you could tell he was nervous by the way his wand arm… er...shook. Albus Dumbledore chatted casually with him though, even in the face of death. 'You're not a killer,' he said to Draco. Then Malfoy admitted why...um...he couldn't accept any help, or come to the light side when Dumbledore offered. Said Voldemort threatened to kill off his family. If Dumbledore, a master Legilmens and world's greatest wizard, was prepared to trust Malfoy and give him a second chance, why shouldn't we?"

"I also eavesdropped on Malfoy...erm...crying to Moaning Myrtle in the boy's lavatory once too. Real shook up it seemed, shaking and all that. He confessed everything and I overhead him. I don't think he wanted to have anything to do with it by then, Sir. Snape's the slimy arse you should be after, Malfoy's really just a coward," he reasoned.

Once Harry had finished, the entire Wizengamot was ablaze. Wizarding folk whispered vivaciously to one another, using their arms for dramatic hand gestures to Harry and Draco. Hardly more than a third sat quietly, just processing what was said. Draco looked up at Potter, not able to mask the look of shock on his face. Even more, he thought he saw a smirk on the boy's features, which quickly turned to a look of loathing. Harry also quickly flashed a lewd hand gesture, causing Malfoy to sneer back and mutter a few choice words under his breath. That speech could have just saved me…" Malfoy thought, "but this won't change a thing..."

"Very well, thank you Harry. All members of the Wizengamot vote Mr. Malfoy's innocence?" Scrimegeour finally asked.

Time seemed to slow in the musky confines of that dungeon room, as Draco watched as what looked like half or more raised their hands. A few members looked hesitant, but he watched as they glanced at Potter before actually raising their hands. So St. Potter really did have quite the influence in this courtroom.

"All those against?"

This time, quite a few hands shot up into the air, their owners glaring down at Draco with disdain etched into their faces. Draco couldn't see everyone in the room, but he hoped that those who had voted him innocent were triumphant.

"Hmm…I see…Draco Abraxus Malfoy, cleared of all charges."

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Draco sighed, his hands running through his silky blonde hair as he remembered that day. His father had scolded him endlessly through letters after that for days. Even the painting in the hallway decided to comment every so often. Malfoy was shocked as well, when coverage of his trial appeared in the "The Daily Prophet". However, the most horrible account of him was in, "The Quibbler". The headline of that article had read, "Draco Malfoy - Muggle Model Extraordinaire?" That article further convinced him that whatever was printed in that magazine was, and always would be, a load of rubbish. Draco sneered at that memory, why in bloody hell would he ever be a "model" anyway? Whatever that was. It was probably Potter's way for reminding him that he saved his arse in the courtroom, he was friends with Loony Lovegood after all…

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The dusty, dingy, derelict hall outside the dungeon-like room was now virtually empty. Members of the Wizengamot had rushed onto other matters, including the trials of several rowdy Death Eaters. It seemed Harry and Draco were the only ones who had left the courtroom, save for a few others.

Draco had Harry pinned against the cold, stone wall of the corridor. A sneer was plastered across his pallid pointed face.

"What was that all about, Potter?" Draco hissed, giving Harry and extra hard shove against the wall.

"I did it for Dumbledore, Malfoy. Don't try to flatter yourself," Harry retorted, rolling his emerald eyes.

"Dumbledore's dead, you twit!"

"Not his memory."

"Why'd you even open your bloody mouth, Potty?" Draco snarled, his features contorted with revulsion.

"Because, Malfoy, think about it. Dumbledore's a world famous Legilmens. You think he didn't see something in you? He wouldn't have offered to help you without having seen something besides a cold-blooded killer. Of course you can always go replace your loser of a father in Azkaban…" Harry replied, his expression purely annoyed at Draco.

"This changes nothing, Scarhead."

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"Oh there you are, Draco!"

Malfoy groaned inwardly, for at the doorway stood Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle; Just who he had wanted to see. Pansy, with her short black hair and pug-like face seemed even more like the canine, as she had an obnoxiously large pink bow holding her hair back. Apparently, she was followed the "latest trend" among witches. Crabbe and Goyle both grunted hellos to Draco as he eyed the three of them.

"Where else do you think I'd be Parkinson, the moon?" Malfoy retorted sarcastically, as the three of them strode into the compartment. Pansy happily squished in by Draco's feet, with Crabbe and Goyle lumbering over to the other side.

"Hello, Malfoy. Didn't think you'd be coming back for another term," came the voice of a tall dark wizard with high-cheekbones at the door

"'Ello, Zabini," Draco drawled, nodding as he at least acknowledged the other wizard's presence.

"Oh! Blaise!" Pansy exclaimed, hurrying to make room for him next to her. "Drake could you move your feet?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him in an obscure way, that Draco was sure she meant as a flirtatious move.

"I'll do whatever the bloody hell I want" Draco muttered, but begrudgingly sat up straight, not wanting to be bothered. Blaise scooted into the seat next to Pansy and she immediately started flirting with him, practically in his lap. Lucky for Draco, she must have sensed he was in a crappy mood.

"N.E.W.T.s are going to be hell this year, eh mate?" Zabini casually said, glancing over at Draco while playing with Pansy's short hair.

"Huh? Oh yeah, real pity we have to take them," Malfoy returned, not paying attention. His thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. With his forehead resting against the cold glass of the windowpane, he had a perfect view of the countryside approaching Hogwarts. It was dusk, the earliest of stars poking their way into sight, reminders of the coming darkness. The rolling green hills seemed barren and uninviting, unlike previous years. In fact, everything surrounding the train seemed dismal, devoid of hope almost. The trees, with their browning leaves stood like skeletons, as if already dead and bare. In the very distance, Draco could almost make out a small dot resembling the looming castle of Hogwarts. Yet, pale white-blonde tresses falling into his eyes blocked his vision. Through his now limited view, his surroundings looked jagged, like a jigsaw puzzle. It was as if someone had taken a picture of a cloudless starry night, and shattered it to pieces with a sledgehammer. Like beating the life out of something that used to be so serene, perfection torn into a thousand pieces.

"Drake, is that a new set of robes? They look lovely on you," Pansy piped up from behind him. He turned his head and glanced sideways at her.

"Of course they are Pansy," he responded flatly, her question was obvious as it was.

"Where did you go this year for your robes? Madam Malkins or Twilfit and Tattings?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his tone, but not daring to question him lest he become more brooding with her.

"Twilfit and Tattings of course, mother's been against Malkin's ever since that incident with Potter," he said simply. Pansy nodded in understanding.

"Diagon Alley getting so underrated these days, you just never know what sort of people you'll collide with..." Zabini spoke up from next to Pansy.

Draco shot him a silencing look at his words, feeling a bit paranoid about them. What was he implying? Oh, Potter. Draco quickly squashed his paranoia as he shook his head. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the sort…" he muttered, looking away again, his thoughts lingering on the girl who had run into him. Deirdre, he believed her name was. She was certainly an annoying little bitch, snaking her way into his dreams and all.

"Draco, dearest, is something wrong?" Pansy whined, trying to act concerned, even going as far as to touch Draco's shoulder sympathetically.

"For Merlin's sake, Parkinson, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me 'dearest'!" Malfoy snapped, turning back around and glaring at her as well. He completely ignored her question.

"Well, I just assumed…that you know…we were still in a relationship…" Pansy whimpered, attempting to look innocent and pleading. Draco merely rolled his eyes.

"When you assume, you make an arse out of you and me," he snapped. "I don't want to date you anymore, Parkinson, get that through you skull," he muttered, turning away once more. He heard Blaise stifle a snigger, and glanced over to Crabbe and Goyle to see what was up. Crabbe was sleeping, and Goyle was eating.

"Just...don't talk to me until we arrive… we have to direct firsties towards the lake," Draco said with an annoyed sigh, closing his icy blue eyes.

"Maybe we should just let the squid do it, I'm sure they'd have fun," Pansy giggled at her own comment, and Zabini smirked. Draco merely gave a small "heh" Of acknowledgement, before attempting to sleep before they reached the castle. He could already sense what a lovely year he was going to have…

b A/n: /b Ah, I've been an insanely rude person by not thanking my wonderful beta thus far. Orlaith, you're certainly as awesome as someone can get. Plus, its fun to make fun of those badgers! )