YEAR 7

Hermione stood with her hair around her face, hoping against hope that the Malfoys wouldn't recognize them. The Stinging Hex had made short work of Harry's face, at least. Ron, too, was barely recognizable. Unfortunately, Hermione hadn't had time to transform her own looks. She risked a glance at Draco. His face was gaunt, the skin pale and wan, enhancing the dark shadows under his desperate grey eyes. He stared at her in rage and terror.

"Fenrir did well, did he not?" Bellatrix whispered delightfully, twirling a dirty black curl around the tip of her wand. She grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him before Draco. "Is it him? Is it?!"

Draco barely glanced at Harry.

"I don't know. No, I don't think so."

"But look, LOOK," Bellatrix said manically, gripping Draco's chin and forcing his head up. "That could be the scar! It's stretched – the result of a Stinging Hex, most likely – but even so. And if it is him, then that means this pretty little thing must be the Mudblood." She turned her crazed gaze on Hermione, who felt her stomach flutter, though she forced herself to meet Bellatrix's eyes with composure.

"Well Draco, is it her? Potter's little Mudblood bitch?"

"It's not her."

Bellatrix frowned. "You're sure?"

"Why wouldn't he be? He only went to school with her for 6 years." Lucius' voice was scathing.

Bellatrix huffed in exasperation.

"Throw them in the dungeon," Lucius said imperiously.

"Not this one," Bellatrix started, giving Hermione a feral onceover. "She may not be Granger, but her blood's nowhere near pure. Let's find out just how dirty it is."

"No," Narcissa said forcefully. "I don't want the screams of some worthless child haunting these halls. There are ghosts enough." Bellatrix looked as if she wanted to argue, but quailed under Narcissa's ice-blue gaze.

"Fine, but Cissy…"

"Oh, pour yourself another Firewhiskey and hold your tongue, Bella," Lucius spat. "This is still Malfoy Manor."

"Tell that to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix hissed, pointing her wand at Lucius.

"ENOUGH," Narcissa yelled. "Draco, take the prisoners..."

But Draco wasn't there. He'd grabbed Hermione and rushed her, Harry and Ron downstairs the moment his aunt's eyes were off her.

Hermione was practically stumbling as they ran along. How big is this bloody place? she thought, trying to ignore the intense stares of generations of Malfoys eyeing them curiously from gilded frames.

Finally, Draco stopped in front of what appeared to be a blank stone wall. A tap of his wand and the stones dissipated into a narrow staircase framed in darkness. Cold, dank-smelling air washed over them.

Draco didn't look at Hermione as he tugged her arm, prompting her to follow him into the abyss.

She was comforted by Harry's breath at her back, following as closely as he dared, Ron behind him. Harry gasped, and Hermione knew the Stinging Hex had worn off.

When they reached the base of the stairs torches illuminated a dungeon littered with manacles and ancient torture devices, empty save for a figure huddling pitifully against a slime-covered wall. Draco turned around then, eyes taking in the prisoners blankly.

"Potter," he said mildly.

"Malfoy," Harry replied.

"Let me guess…you or Weasley did something stupid and sent the Snatchers straight to your little hideout," he sneered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Go ahead, we all know you've got the Dark Mark, call your Master," Ron spat.

Malfoy's pale eyes raked over him, but he made no move to lift his sleeve.

"You two will be here," he shoved them into a spacious cell on his left.

"Granger." He pulled her toward the back.

"Hey, where are you taking her?" Ron called.

Malfoy didn't answer.

He stopped at a small cell hidden behind a large stone pillar, opening it with a wordless wave of his wand.

Hermione walked calmly inside. She turned back and caught his eyes, deep-set and haunted.

"I…"

"Save it, Granger," Malfoy sighed. Then he drew his sleeve back. For a moment Hermione thought he was going to press his wand to the Dark Mark, but then he drew it across his wrist. Blood sprang from the cut and dripped onto the stone floor.

Closing the door to her cell, he drew his bleeding wrist across the dwarf-forged steel, whispering spells until the metal grew red and hot.

With one last look, he left her, taking the dungeon stairs two at a time.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"I'm here, guys, everything's fine," she called.

"What did Malfoy do?"

"He just blood warded the cell door, that's all."

"What?" Harry asked. "Why didn't he ward ours?"

"I don't know, Harry, it's not as though I asked him."

"That sneak!" Ron exclaimed. "It's because he thinks only Hermione is smart enough to break out of her cell."

"Makes sense," Harry said.

"Let's try and get a bit of rest, then we'll figure out a way to get out of here," Hermione said. She looked across at the figure curled up against the wall. "We should try and help that one too, if we can."

A FEW HOURS LATER

Hermione tried to sleep, but she was so cold. She could hear Harry and Ron's soft snores across the dungeon. Squeezing her eyes shut, she attempted to force her body to relax. Nope. Not working. Her whole body shivered. Suddenly, she was flooded with warmth. What? How?

"Granger."

"Malfoy!"

"Merlin, Granger, keep your voice down! Potty and the Weasel are trying to sleep."

She snorted. "How anyone can rest in this place is beyond me."

Sighing, Hermione stretched her limbs. "Although I could probably sleep now," she admitted. "Warming charm?"

He nodded.

"Thank you."

"I brought you some food," he said, sliding a tray filled with hot bread, cheese, meat, and fresh fruit through a slat at the base of the door.

"I didn't even hear you come in," she said.

"Slytherins excel at secrecy, Granger."

True.

"So, why did you ward my door?" she asked.

Draco looked surprised at the question.

"My aunt wants to torture you, Granger. And Fenrir wants…other things."

She shuddered.

"You weren't warding the cell to keep me from getting out. You were warding it to keep them from getting in."

Draco's eyes were smoky and impenetrable.

"My parents are working on a plan," he said shortly. "Your escape has to look spontaneous – it can't appear pre-meditated by us, or we'll all be dead."

"I know."

"Eat and get a few hours shut-eye."

"Ok," she said. "And Malfoy, thank you." Hermione's chocolate eyes swirled with emotion. "Torture is one thing, but Fenrir…I would rather die."

"I know," he whispered. "I won't let that happen, I promise."

A swirl of his black cloak and he was gone, just another shadow darkening the dungeon walls.

2:30 A.M.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione sprang up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy, what time is it?"

"Late. Or early, depending on your point of view." Lucius gave a wan smile. "The Dark Lord arrives tomorrow morning. You and your friends must be gone."

"You'll…you'll let Harry go too?"

There was a long pause. Hermione studied the lank blonde hair, flowing in jagged layers over his shoulders. His grey eyes were sunken; a five-o-clock shadow clung to his sharp jawline.

"I have come to realize that the wizarding world cannot be ruled by the Dark Lord," Lucius said slowly. "If Potter is the key to defeating him, then I must do what it takes to keep the boy out of his clutches."

"And me?" Hermione asked.

He stared at her.

"I would have you survive this war," he admitted. "Do not ask me why. Perhaps it's because my son is fond of you. No need to blush like that, my dear. Narcissa and I have been aware of his feelings since the Quidditch World Cup."

He pulled out a flask and took a long pull.

"Narcissa discovered an unbroken link between house elves and their old Masters," Lucius said. "Dobby can't be commanded, but he can be called."

"Dobby?!" Hope unfurled in Hermione's breast.

Lucius nodded.

"As I'm sure you're aware, house elves are one of the very few creatures who are able to Apparate and Disapparate at will – regardless of wards or restrictions."

Hope unfurled in Hermione's chest.

"It's brilliant!"

"Malfoys usually are," Lucius said, haughtiness creeping into his voice.

Hermione laughed.

"What's so funny?" Lucius frowned.

"Nothing. It's just nice, listening to the sound of your old self."

"What do you mean?"

"You seemed so…defeated, when the Snatchers brought us in," Hermione explained. "I guess I prefer my Malfoys power-hungry and imperious."

Lucius' eyes flashed in amusement. "Mmmm. You are a strange one, Miss Granger."

"Takes one to know one, I suppose."

"Indeed," he said, turning to go. "Wake your friends, Miss Granger. Be ready."

"We will."

EARLY MORNING

Safe at Bill and Fleur's, Hermione cursed Bellatrix. She had derailed their escape plan after panicking over the discovery of Gryffindor's fake sword in Hermione's bag, killing Dobby and leaving them all emotionally scarred. Hermione especially. She was terrified for the Malfoys. Voldemort would learn that Harry had yet again escaped his clutches – and what then? Harry's scar was burning. He was angry. So angry. Angry enough to kill an ancient Pureblooded family? Her gut churned.

"Hermione, are you ok?"

Harry sat beside her on the porch swing, concern marked in his green eyes.

"I'm fine, Harry, just scared."

"The immediate danger has passed," he said.

"Has it?"

He pondered her words.

"I've been thinking. How did Dobby know we were there? It doesn't make sense."

"Some things aren't meant to be understood, Harry," Hermione said. "I guess that's why it's called Magick."

"You would tell me, if something was going on between you and Malfoy?" he asked.

She didn't answer. I'm just so tired. Tired of the secrets, tired of the lies. And while the Malfoys remained under Voldemort's thumb, she didn't have room in her soul to feel any emotion other than fear.

"I care about him, Harry," she said simply. Her eyes filled with tears. "I never meant to."

She looked down at her hands, nails bitten and ragged from worry.

Harry released a heavy breath. "In a strange way, it makes sense," he mused. "You and Ron never seemed on equal footing. Don't get me wrong, I still think Malfoy is the git to end all gits. But he's also incredibly clever, ambitious, talented – just like you."

Hermione gave him a watery smile. "You're not mad?"

"I'm not happy, but we have bigger problems to worry about than your tragic love story."

"The Horcruxes," she said.

He nodded.

"I've been thinking…" Hermione started. "Bellatrix wouldn't have gotten that upset if she didn't think we had been inside her Gringotts vault. What if that's where Hufflepuff's cup is?"

"I was thinking the same, but breaking into the most secure Wizarding bank in the world is more than risky," Harry said.

"True," she admitted. "But we have Griphook – and Bellatrix's wand. I also managed to get a strand of her hair when she tried to torture me."

"Ok," Harry said decisively. "Let's talk to Ron. But don't give too much away when we speak to Griphook. I don't trust that goblin. And Hermione…try not to worry about the Malfoys. If there's one thing that family is good at, it's using their power and cunning to survive against all odds."

She sighed. "Thank you, Harry. I hope you're right."

YEAR 7 – After the Battle

"PUREBLOODS ON TRIAL!" The headline screamed from the front page of the Daily Prophet. The Malfoy family stared out in black and white, looking exhausted but defiant. Hermione threw the newspaper down.

"Everything alright, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "You've hardly touched breakfast."

"Fine."

Harry gave her a penetrating look across the table. Tomorrow the Malfoys faced the Ministry courts. She knew how it would look: Lucius was a known Death Eater. Part of the original circle. Only this time he couldn't claim to be Imperiused. And Voldemort had actually been using Malfoy Manor as his home base during the war; never mind that it had been against the will of the actual owners of the estate. She rubbed her eyes.

"We'll do what we can, Hermione," Harry whispered once Molly left the room. "They can't very well ignore the testimony of The Golden Trio," he rolled his eyes. Hermione knew he hated that term as much as she did. Still, if it proves useful I may not detest it quite as much, she thought."Narcissa lied to Voldemort about my being alive," Harry continued. "And the Malfoys risked everything to help us escape their Manor. It should be enough."

Hermione chewed her lip.

"Maybe."

That night she tossed and turned, trying to dislodge the knot in her stomach. At around 5 a.m. a grey light crept through the curtains. She watched it resentfully. Throwing the covers off, she padded downstairs to make coffee. Curled in an armchair, she watched steam lift from the mug in exotic patterns and thought of Draco. Was he unable to sleep too?

She hadn't seen him since the Final Battle, when he had stopped Crabbe from killing her by blocking his curse. His parents had stayed out of the fighting as much as possible, choosing instead to cut through the chaos, searching desperately for their son. Lucius was malnourished and bloody, having been tortured and imprisoned in his own dungeons for displeasing Voldemort by allowing Harry, Ron and Hermione to escape.

When Harry and the Weasleys came downstairs hours later, she lied and said she had just woken up. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and empty coffee mug.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Arthur said. "The Malfoys are hardly innocent."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry gave her a warning glance. "The Malfoys should have to pay reparations, but we don't think they should be thrown in Azkaban."

Ron snorted. "Speak for yourself, mate."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione spat. "They saved your life at Malfoy Manor, or did you forget?" Not to mention the fact that our being there in the first place was YOUR fault, she thought bitterly.

Ron looked taken aback, then mumbled "I s'pose so" and asked his mum if breakfast was ready.

"Give me a minute, you glutton," Molly mock-glared at her son.

"I'm going to shower and change," Hermione said.

"What about breakfast?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not hungry," she answered.

AT THE TRIAL IN THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

The courtroom was packed with people. Hermione felt her anxiety levels rise as she looked around at the horde of witches and wizards, some furious, some gleeful – all of them out for blood. And for good reason. Death Eaters had terrorized the wizarding world for longer than Hermione had been alive, and now they were finally paying for it.

Hermione's heart sank further into her stomach. These people don't want justice. They want vengeance. Hermione wasn't even sure if testimonials from the legendary Golden Trio would be enough to save the Malfoys from their wrath.

"All rise!" a distinguished wizard announced as the judge entered, a stern-looking witch in rich black robes.

She took a moment to get situated, shuffling papers and whispering with her clerk. Hermione nearly jumped when the judge called, "Bring in the prisoners," and the Malfoys were escorted, weary and chained, onto the courtroom floor. Hisses and boos sounded from the courtroom audience. The jury sat silent, but some were openly glaring.

Hermione took a deep breath. Harry glanced at her and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It'll be alright, his eyes told her.

"Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, you face charges of aiding and abetting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in his endeavors to slaughter Muggleborns and Pureblood dissenters, enslave Muggles, and subjugate the wizarding world. Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy, you bear the Dark Mark of evil. As such, the court has reason to believe you are responsible for multiple murders."

"No!" Draco shouted. "We didn't kill anyone, I swear…"

"Silence, boy," the judge said sternly.

He hung his head, shoulders jutting from his back like broken wings.

Hermione felt her chest constrict.

"How do you plead?" the judge continued.

"I am guilty, your honor," Lucius said roughly. "But my wife and son were forced into this life entirely against their will. I bear full responsibility."

"Are you saying your son was Imperiused when he took the Dark Mark?" the judge enquired.

"No," Draco cut in. "I wasn't, but I had no choice!"

"Quiet," Lucius said sharply, glaring desperately at his son.

"Let the boy speak," the judge said, nodding at Draco. "What do you mean when you say you had no choice?"

Draco looked to his father, but Lucius merely sighed.

"The Dark Lord said he would kill my family if I didn't become a Death Eater," he said, voice thick with emotion. He swallowed twice before continuing. "You don't understand – you can't possibly know – he was not someone you simply say 'no' to."

"And yet, many witches and wizards did," the judge said coolly.

"And where are they now?!" Draco demanded. The crowd gasped.

Hermione closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the judge was eyeing Draco with calculated indifference.

"Would anyone like to testify on behalf of these Death Eaters?" she asked.

Hermione felt rage replace her anxiety. She's dehumanizing them on purpose.

"We would," she said forcefully, indicating Harry and Ron on either side of her.

The crowd gasped even more loudly, and now there was whispering all around; a buzzing chorus.

For once the judge appeared visibly shaken. It took her almost half a minute to compose herself enough to request that Harry, Ron and Hermione approach the bench.

"Do you subject yourselves to the tests necessary to ensure an accurate portrayal of the facts?" she asked.

"I do," Hermione said.

"I do," Harry said.

"I do," Ron said.

With that, the judge's assistant poured them each a tumbler of water spiked with Veritaserum and did a series of spells to ensure that none of them were under influence of an Imperius curse.

When the assistant was finished, he gave the judge a brief nod.

"Very well," she said reluctantly. "And just so we're clear – you're testifying in defense of the Malfoys, correct?"

"Correct," Hermione said.

"Proceed," the judge requested. "For continuity's sake, start at the beginning."

Hermione took a deep breath, and then did as the judge said, telling the room about her very first meeting with the Malfoy family, explaining every last detail. Her confidence grew as she spoke. This is just like any other assignment. Be confident. Be thorough. Most importantly, be honest. She recounted every last detail, even the softening in Narcissa and Lucius's eyes after they saved her. And then more recently, when they not only discovered a way to help them escape Voldemort's clutches, but prevented her, Hermione, from being tortured by Bellatrix and raped by Fenrir Greyback.

Ron went next, with a rather weak testimony about his experience at Malfoy Manor.

Harry was last – the pinch hitter, the clutch.

He spoke about Narcissa's hand on his chest. The beat of his heart under her fingertips. The way her voice never wavered as she faced Voldemort and told him that Harry was dead. The Malfoys hadn't even fought in the Final Battle, motivated as they were to save their family, he continued. The Malfoys were prejudiced, power hungry, devious – but murderous? No.

Finally, Harry ended with a question: What would you do, if you were in their place? If the most powerful wizard in the world had YOUR family trapped in his ruthless clutches?

The courtroom was silent now. The energy was different, Hermione noticed. Thoughtful, less frenzied and furious. She dared to hope.

The judge cleared her throat, breaking the quietude. "Thank you. The court will take a short recess while we deliberate."

She disappeared behind a side door, followed by her assistant and members of the jury.

The Malfoys were led out as well.

The buzzing was back now, witches and wizards discussing the Golden Trio's testimony in rushed tones. Hermione's stomach was still in knots.

"Who's up for a butterbeer and some food?" Ron asked.

"What? Now?!" Hermione exclaimed.

His eyebrow shot up quizzically. "We've done our part," he said. "If the gits get sent to Azkaban it's not our fault, yeah?"

"We'll stay and see this through," Harry said forcefully.

Ron shrugged. "Easy mate, it was just a suggestion."

Hermione drew in a deep, stabilizing breath.

Time trickled by.

"Let's take a short walk," Harry whispered to her. Noting her alarmed look, he added: "Just to the corridor. They'll call us when they're done deliberating."

She nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

"Ron, want to…?"

But Ron was chatting to an admirer, a pretty young witch who appeared to be a few years younger than they were. But everyone looks young to me these days. The war had ravaged her. She found she could tell who had fought and who hadn't; who had lost and who had escaped with their family (and their youth) unscathed.

Out in the hall, Harry tried to console her. "We've done all we could, Hermione. They can't discount our testimony so easily. Like it or not, we saved the Wizarding World from certain destruction. Remember also that the Ministry is pressuring us to speak at their events and reassure the public that everything is now under control. It would be in their best interest to stay on our good side."

Hermione cracked a tiny smile. "We do make very dangerous enemies."

Harry's green eyes glinted like chips of emeralds. "That we do."

The judge's assistant popped his head out of the courtroom door. "If you please Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, join us."

To Hermione's surprise, they weren't led back to their seats, but to the deliberation room now occupied by the judge and her panel of jurors.

"Please sit," the judge said. "This is unconventional, to be sure," she admitted, "but then, so was your testimony. I don't think any of us were expecting You-Know-Who's fiercest opponents to advocate on behalf of his Death Eaters."

"Reluctant Death Eaters," Hermione said.

"Hmmm," the judge mused. "Be that as it may, Lucius Malfoy has been a loyal supporter of the Pureblood cause from the start. That can't be overlooked. Many of the jury are inclined to see him receive the Dementor's Kiss for his crimes."

Hermione's heart stilled.

"They are willing to let Draco Malfoy and his mother live under house arrest for the remainder of their lives, under strict Ministry supervision, of course."

"You call that justice?!" Hermione exploded. The jurors looked at her in alarm. "Did you even listen to a word that was said in that courtroom?"

"Miss Granger…"

"Don't 'Miss Granger' me," Hermione spat. "I swear to Merlin, if you and this jury don't come to a more merciful conclusion, I will bring the full force of my intelligence against you and use it to crush this entire Ministry into dust."

The witches and wizards of the jury looked even more scared now, and even the judge's eyes were wide behind her glasses.

"Are you—are you—threatening us?" the judge asked.

"Oh no," Hermione said coolly, throwing her shoulders back and tossing her wild hair behind her shoulder. "I'm promising you."

Hermione felt Harry at her shoulder.

"The house arrest idea isn't a bad one," he said. "For Lucius and Narcissa…and only for a probationary period of time. I suggest no more than three years. The whole family—even Lucius, I believe—has seen the error of their ways. Preventing a group of people with as much wizarding history and magical ability as the Malfoys from ever being able to rejoin society is detrimental not only to them, but to all of us. Surely you must see that. Lucius Malfoy practically funded the Ministry for years."

Hermione took a breath and forced herself to speak with her usual calm rationality. "And just think of the overarching benefits," she began. "We could rebrand this new world as one of unity. Purebloods and Muggleborns, learning to forgive and coexist together. After all, everyone here has made mistakes, have we not?" Hermione looked around the room purposefully. "Some of you were on the panel as Umbridge accused decent Muggleborns of stealing magic. You sat silent as she broke their wands and exiled them from our world," she said bitterly. The jurors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "Many of you left England, taking refuge until the storm blew over and hoping that others would clean up the mess. Do you feel you deserve redemption?"

"I had to leave to protect my family!" a wizard exclaimed.

"The Malfoys had to protect their family, too," Hermione replied. "Only they didn't have the option of leaving."

"She's right," Harry said. "No one who ever defected from Voldemort's inner circle lived to tell the tale."

Silence fell around the table. Finally, the judge sighed and stood. "Very well. The council will consider your words and dispense the sentences accordingly."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "So Lucius won't be receiving the Dementor's Kiss, and Draco can try and resume a normal life."

The jurors looked at one another as the judge sighed. "We will convene a little while longer, but yes, I expect that will be the outcome of this trial."

Harry and Hermione turned to go.

"Oh and Mr. Potter—I noticed you haven't accepted the Ministry's invitation to speak at the Victory Ball."

Hermione fought an eye roll.

"I suppose I could put in an appearance," Harry said.

The judge nodded. "Very well. Please take your seats in the courtroom. We'll resume in a moment."

VERDICT

"Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, approach the bench," the judge said. Her face gave nothing away as they shuffled forward, moving awkwardly in the heavy chains. As tall as they were, the Malfoys looked small beneath the enormity of the raised judge's bench and her council members. Hermione's stomach twitched. She leaned forward as the judge opened her mouth to cast down her decision.

"The jury has deliberated, and after much consideration, the court has reached a conclusion," she said. "I was fully prepared to sentence both Lucius and Draco to the Dementor's Kiss, with a lifetime Azkaban sentence for Narcissa."

"You might as well rip my soul from me too!" Narcissa yelled. Lucius wrapped his arms around her to keep her from surging forward.

The judge held up a hand. "If I may continue," she said mildly. "I said I was prepared. Given the – enlightening – testimony from Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley, the court has determined a different sentence. This world has been torn to pieces by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Family members, friends, colleagues have been pitted against each other. It is time for the bloodshed to end. It is time for the hatred between Purebloods and Muggleborns to end. I think that today we have an opportunity to work toward a more united, peaceful future. That being said, the Malfoys shall hear their fate: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, your wand will be confiscated and you will serve three years of house arrest, confined solely to Malfoy Manor and the grounds therein, upon which (should you exhibit proper behavior) you will be allowed to re-enter Wizarding society." There was a gasp around the room, and immediately everyone began talking at once.

"BUT HE'S A DEATH EATER!" one man shouted.

"HE KILLED MY FAMILY!" another yelled.

"I killed NO ONE!" Lucius swiveled around, raising his voice above the din to defend himself.

"It doesn't matter, he's still a Death Eater!" an elderly witch accused.

The judge banged her gavel until sparks flew from it.

"ENOUGH!" she said. "I will do the judging here. I understand that tensions are running high. We have ALL suffered in this war, and we all want to see justice served. Be that as it may, justice takes many forms. The Malfoys, we believe, have seen the error of their ways. Lucius was tortured and imprisoned in his own home. Draco was only a boy when he took the Dark Mark, under penalty of death. These are the facts, and this court must account for them. You have heard the testimony of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, who saved our world from utter destruction by the very evil we have accused the Malfoys of aligning with. If they can find it in their hearts to forgive this family, I truly believe that anyone can." She paused to let the gravity of her words sink in. A placated silence fell over the room. "If I may continue; Narcissa Black Malfoy, I sentence you to one year of house arrest, at the end of which your wand will be returned to you." Narcissa nodded and wiped away grateful tears. "Draco Lucius Malfoy…" Hermione held her breath. "…I hereby sentence you to Hogwarts house arrest. You will finish your 7th year of school under strict supervision by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall." Hermione fought the urge to scream in joy. Instead, she whispered "thank you thank you thank you thank you" under her breath until she gasped for air.

Down before the bench, Narcissa was hugging her son to her, sobbing into his chest as he patted her back. Lucius stood stock-still, apparently in shock at the outcome.

STAY TUNED FOR ONE MORE CHAPTER…thanks for reading, friends!