The Sacrifice
Summary: The judge passed sentence. The jury nodded in favor. The audience remained still in silent agreement. The chains around Draco loosened and he was led away, with the hooded figure in the black robes left staring at his back. Draco Malfoy was lead away into his cell, knowing that he would be dead before the next sunrise.
The room was silent. Deathly silent. This was the most serious case that had been held in this courtroom for many a year. This case, this crime, had broken the barrier. There was the time, long ago, when this sort of thing was commonly tried in court. That had been in the days of Voldemort. Then there was a time when all seemed to be at peace, where people rejoiced in the defeat of Lord Voldemort and sang praises about The Boy Who Lived. This trial meant so much because it marked the end of that time. Like a broken dam, an onslaught of terror would mark the coming years. Perhaps that was why people had reacted to this case so strongly- for all its silence, the courtroom was packed, without any standing room left even. Or, perhaps the reason it was reacted to so strongly was that it was the youngest Malfoy who stood behind the door to the holding cells, flanked by Ministry workers with wands at his heart.
The audience rose as the Wizard acting as judge entered, then took their seats as one. The silence was so profound it was painful. The hooded figure in the middle of the first row resisted the urge to tap his foot against the ground to see if he had gone deaf.
Why? He thought miserably. The same sentence was running through the minds of everyone present. Those who were ignorant of the Malfoys' dealings with Voldemort were asking themselves how a young man from such an upstanding, ancient wizarding family had gone so bad. Those who knew could not imagine how Draco would have done something as foolish as this. The same word, why, running through everyone's head.
But the person in the dark robes in the middle of the first row was not asking himself any of the things anyone else in the room was asking themselves. His whys were more painful. For he knew that Draco Malfoy was innocent. He knew that Draco Malfoy was a noble person who was giving his life for a cause no one knew he fought for, so that the person who was truly responsible for this could carry on.
The door opened, and Draco entered. Even in this, a time when he stood on trial for something he had not done, when he knew that he would be dead tomorrow just as assuredly as the sky is blue, even then he managed to look calm. Only someone who knew him very well could see that he was terrified. It was the eyes. Even from ten feet away, the person in the front row could see them. In all the missions they'd worked on as a team where they risked their lives, those eyes had always been a calm grey-blue. Now they were dark, grey, like sky and sea tossed together in a raging tempest. One tear fell down a cheek, unseen in the shadow cast by the hood.
Draco sat, and chains that hadn't moved in years swiftly wrapped themselves completely around his torso, confining all movement. Draco looked into his eyes, somehow staring right into the wide pupils even in the shadow of the hood that masked his identity from everyone in the room but him.
The judge spoke. The jury members took notes. The audience members gasped aloud at the one witness testimony. Still, Draco looked intently into the eyes of the hooded figure, passing through his gaze a calm that he did not feel, somehow silently reassuring his friend that it was alright, that he would die without fear, knowing that it was necessary for their work to continue. The hooded figure understood, in a way. He was grateful that Draco could be so understanding, so selfless, so committed to the cause that was more important than any of their individual lives.
The judge passed sentence. The jury nodded in favor. The audience remained still in silent agreement. The chains around Draco loosened and he was led away, with the hooded figure in the black robes left staring at his back. Draco Malfoy was lead away into his cell, knowing that he would be dead before the next sunrise.
And Harry potter continued onward with the quest to kill Voldemort.
