*A/N: Hello all, just a quick note to say welcome and thank you for taking the time to read this fic. This is my first ever writing, so go easy on me! I've had this idea in my head for ages and I really wanted to share it with my Potter head community! I hope you enjoy it, your feedback is welcome.
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The sky over England was blanketed in hues of velvet blue and purple. The starlight twinkled across the vast, rolling hills. The near-bare trees casting shadows by the glowing light of the moon as their forgotten leaves danced circles in the wake of the autumnal breeze. The night was still and barren of any sign of life. To the average onlooker at least.
Perhaps if one were practiced in the magical arts, one would see beyond the darkness of the countryside and notice the subtle shimmer of a waning concealment charm. Upon closer inspection, maybe you would even see the forgotten grounds of a stately country home, overgrown with weeds, debris strewn about the untamed lawns and statues coated in moss. Similarly, the inside of the once impressive Malfoy Manor lay in tatters. Now sparse of it's finery and expensive trinkets and instead, playing host to an array of rodents, cakings of dust and silk-spun cobwebs. The air smelled damp and putrid with the remnants of dark magic.
There was, however, still one inhabitant currently residing here. Deep within the confines of the East Wing, Draco Malfoy sat in his cabinet, a candle burning upon his desk as he slumped in his favorite leather wingback. His arm was perched on the arm of the chair as his hand supported the heavy weight of his aching head whilst his other hand rested upon the ankle he had slung over his knee, gently swirling a tumbler of Ogden's Old. It was sometime around three in the morning, but Draco had no intention of sleeping.
Not because he wasn't tired. In fact, he was exhausted. He could sleep for years... If he could actually sleep. But a good night's rest seemed an enigma to Draco these days, and a fitful slumber tended to make him far less agreeable than usual, so he often opted to forego sleep altogether and make better use of his time... Like having a glass — or six — of Fire Whiskey.
He groaned softly into the silence as he rubbed his slender fingers across the lids of his tired eyes. Tonight... This morning... Whatever... He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to sleep anyway. Thoughts of what had occurred only hours ago. So distracting were these thoughts that he hadn't even bothered to change out of the grey, pinstripe suit he wore to his hearing.
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Draco sat in the iron chair with his wrists and legs bound by heavy magical chains in the centre of the circular courtroom. There had been a full Wizengamot turn out for his hearing, as there had been for his mother and father before him. The air was stiflingly warm and doing nothing to help alleviate the incessant butterflies in his stomach. Nor were the chains for that matter... Or the hundreds of eyes surveying him from every side. His tie suddenly felt very constricting around his neck... What he wouldn't give to loosen it. He settled for inhaling down some deep breaths when the Bailiff entered the courtroom.
"Please rise for the Honourable Chief Warlock and Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, now presiding."
Minister Shacklebolt donned in the deep plum robes of the High Court, walked briskly to the bench and clapped his gavel.
"All but the Jury may be seated. Bailiff, please swear in the Jurors."
Malfoy took this opportunity to take in more of his surroundings. To his right were a sea of reporters, fingers poised over their cameras, some scratching furiously with quills but almost all of them looking at him like a pack of hyenas waiting to ravage their next meal. He gulped once more as he looked to his left at the Jury. If possible, this was a worse sight than the cockroaches from the papers... There were people he actually knew on the Jury. He could see at least four people he went to school with. Longbottom, Weaslette, Katie Bell and that weird Lovegood girl. All people he had wronged in some form...
His breathing became even more laboured. He was now breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat across his hairline and his head felt fuzzy. He felt ill.
This was it. He knew now he was going to be sent to Azkaban. It was the only foreseeable outcome with a Jury like that. This trial was over before it started. He centred his head and hung it low, screwing his eyes shut for a brief moment until a voice addressing him cut through his reverie.
"Mr. Malfoy!"
Draco looked up to the Minister, panting out a small "Sorry."
"Mr. Malfoy, do you have a solicitor for your defense, yes or no?" he asked impatiently.
"N-no... No, I do not."
It wasn't as though he hadn't tried to find a suitable defence solicitor. But no one wanted to come within an inch of The Malfoy's since their involvement in the war had been spread across the front page of The Daily Prophet for the last few months. This was why it had been so easy to convict his father of his crimes. No amount of gold was enough to cover the tarnished reputation that was his family's legacy. They were viewed as nothing more than a stain upon the face of their brave new world.
"Very well then," said The Minister "You understand then, that you will be acting as your own def-"
Just then, there was commotion from the back of the room; a loud crashing of the waiting room doors against the wall of the court room. A pummelling of footfalls descending the stairs and an irritatingly familiar voice assaulted Draco's senses as he craned his neck as far as possible from the confines of his shackles to try and get a better look.
"Witness for the defense, Harry James Potter!"
Suddenly the room was in chaos. Chairs scraped along the floor as the members of Wizengamot practically jumped from their seats, camera flashes filled the room and voices, both outraged and shocked buzzed in the air as the loud clacking of the Ministers gavel rang throughout and his deep tone cut through the noise.
"Order! ORDER! You will all SIT DOWN!"
The flurry of activity came to an abrupt halt as the attendees sheepishly retook their seats. The Minister stared angrily about the room for a moment before locking eyes with The-Boy-With-A-Sodding-Hero-Complex.
"Mr. Potter, this is not done. You cannot just barge into-"
"Actually, Sir, with all due respect, his presence here would likely be of great importance in this trial."
Draco jumped slightly at the sound of the newer, but still familiar tone. This time, he didn't crane his neck to look, for he already knew too well, the prissy articulate of Hermione Granger. And of course, where else would she be, if not faithfully licking the boots of The Saviour like a good little Mudblood. The sound of her heels clacked against the wood of the courtroom floor as she halted her stride next to Draco's chair.
The flurry of noise started to rile up again, but this time, The Minister clapped his gavel in excess and stared down viciously at the offending noise-makers.
"Miss Granger," he said, eyeing the duo with contempt "neither of you have the right to interrupt an official High Court hearing, nor do you have any reason to-"
"Sir, as I itterated on the way in, yes we do have a reason for our interruption -"
Potter and Granger were facing The Minister, both wearing looks of confidence and a little of smugness. Potter was dressed in full Auror tactical gear, arms folded and a slight quirk to the corner of his stupid mouth as he watched Granger debate with The entire Wizengamot.
Granger was wearing some drab Muggle clothes. Her bushy mass piled atop her swotty head, looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Typical. She obviously wouldn't think to present herself correctly before a High Court hearing... Though, Draco supposed, as a saviour of the Wizarding world, and one third of The Golden Trio, she probably didn't have to.
"-furthermore, if Mr. Malfoy was unable to secure a defense attorney, then he should have been provided a duty solicitor under section seven of 'The Protective Rights and-"
"Yes, yes Miss Granger, I am aware of his rights!" Minister Shacklebolt cut her off, obviously irritated by her rambling. Draco knew the feeling.
"Then, seeing as he clearly was not given one, it would be perfectly fine for Mr. Potter to step in, would it not? After all, that is the lawful proceeding, is it not, Minister? We of course, would want to do things correctly under the new government regime, given how corrupt things were in the very recent past?"
Merlin, thought Draco, is she trying to get me fucking killed?
Draco's focus began to wane and he started to pant again after releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. The Minister looked positively murderous and Granger was stoking the fire. The hearing was already fixed and he knew he was going to be locked up for good. He really didn't need the demented duo coming in half-cocked and inventing some do-gooder bullshit on his behalf
The silence in the room was deafening as sweat begun to collect on Draco's back. He tried to remain composed and not give in to the mounting panic growing within him and he flexed his fingers, trying furiously to ground himself. He was determined to remain dignified so as not to look weak in the face of his accusers.The Minister appeared to have conceded to his adversaries as Draco watched Potter face the Jury and deliver his version of the events that transpired at Hogwarts two years ago.
"Malfoy was coerced. He was acting purely in the defense of his family, and I would ask anyone here, wouldn't you do the same if the lives of your loved ones were under the threat of death-"
"That does not justify the use of Unforgivable Curses Mr. Potter," replied one very old, balding member of The Wizengamot. "Nor does it explain why Mr. Malfoy housed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at his Manor-"
"The charges against Mr. Malfoy do not include the housing of Lord Voldemort, Sir, as you well know," Granger cut in "his father has already been sentenced as the soul perpetrator for this crime. Malfoy Manor was under his control alone at the time!"
The arguing went on and on for some time. Draco mostly tuned it out, only communicating monosyballic answers when directly addressed. He was still trying to reign in the waves of nausea threatening to take him over.
After what felt like days, the Minister called for a short recess so the Jury could make their final decision. The rest of the court murmured quietly amongst themselves, though Draco still caught the odd piece of conversation.
"-his father-"
"-Potters story seems to hold weight-"
"-reckon it'll be life at the least-"
A feminine clearing of the throat sounded close to Draco as he shifted his unfocused gaze to the left and locked eyes with Granger. She was about three feet away from him and giving him a look of pity. Her eyes were slightly glazed as she watched him and Draco tried desperately hard not to sneer back at her. She was moving her lips at him... It looked like she was mouthing something to him... Something like... 'breathe'?
Draco broke eye contact with her and took a deep, shaky breath just as the door to the atrium opened and the Jury filed in. Once everyone was seated, the gavel clapped once again and the courtroom fell silent. The foreman rose and addressed Minister Shacklebolt directly.
"In the case of Draco Lucius Malfoy, we find him guilty on the following counts: the use of an Unforgiveable Curse, the unlawful imprisonment of witches and wizards in his home, and attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore."
As the Foreman took his seat, panic had officially set in and Draco felt the little colour he had in his pale skin drain from his face. He was going to be sick, he knew it.
"The vote will now be put to the Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot." stated the Bailiff. "Please raise your right hand when called upon to cast your vote. You may vote only once and votes are non-retractable in the this case. Foreman, please give your recommended sentance."
The foreman stood again "The Jury recommends the sum of 8 million galleons to be paid to the rebuilding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the Malfoy estate, that Mr. Malfoys wand be snapped and a maximum sentence of 15 years in Azkaban prison with no conditions for bail."
He took his seat as the Bailiff addressed The Wizengamot. "Those in agreement with the recommended sentence, please raise your right hand."
Hands ascended across the purple mass of robes and Draco tried to count them as quickly as possible but found he was much too nervous to keep his concentration.
"Let the records show that 27 of 58 members of The Wizengamot have voted in favour." stated the Bailiff. "Sentencing must now commence via the Honourable Chief Warlock and Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt."
This was it. Not enough votes sealed the deal for a sentence to Azkaban and Draco's life was held now within The Ministers grasp. He could only hope for less than what the Jury were gunning for, but he was not hopeful at all. He turned to the grim face of Minister Shacklebolt, not really seeing, and gulped thickly as The Minister opened his mouth to seal his fate.
"After due consideration the evidence given to suggest the coercion of Mr. Malfoy and noting the extreme duress he was under by the hand of Lord Voldemort, I hereby order you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to pay the sum of 5 million galleons to the rebuilding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from your estate. Your wand will be seized for one year, and you are sentenced to serve one year under the Reform for Muggle Empathy program. You will receive a letter in the morning detailing your sentence further and you will present your wand to the Aurors Office before you leave and a trace will be put upon your persons. You are to return to Malfoy Manor immediately after and will be under official house arrest until further notice. Court is adjourned."
Minister Shacklebolt clapped his gavel one final time and rose quickly from his bench, striding from the court followed by The Golden Boy and his Swotty sidekick and a steamroller of reporters flashing their cameras, yelling and waving for comments.
The chains on Draco's chair snapped open and he practically leapt out of the iron chair, heaving great gulps of air and wiping the sweat from his head. Two Aurors were immediately upon him, roughly grabbing his elbows as they escorted him from the courtroom.
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Draco's head was positively pounding and his eyes were very sore. He opened them and grimaced at the newly invading light beaming into the room. He blinked rapidly, looking around in search of his grandfather clock against the wall, noting that it was now quarter to six in the morning. Fantastic he thought miserably. Another completely restless night.
He rose from his chair, setting down his now empty glass on the desk and he stretched out his aching body, massaging his stiff neck as he painfully straightened his back. He marched off to his quarters for a shower, deftly unbuttoning the sweat-soaked jacket of his suit as he went, knowing that in just a few hours, a letter from The Ministry would be arriving. Draco did not want to be caught short by anything the letter had to say so he figured he may as well wash away the stickyness on his body from the previous day and give himself a few hours to mentally prepare for his year in Hell.