Penelope Clearwater was perched on her desk, lazily filing her fingernails to perfection. It was a slow day at work, meaning that her boss's plans must be going exceedingly well. It wasn't really a surprise. When Hermione sets her sights into something, she usually gets it one way or another—a trait she shares with her husband.
The main doors to the Head office opened and Penelope straightened her skirt and vanished the nail file. She grabbed the thick bundle of parchments that Blaise left earlier to give Hermione once she came back from her "lunch". Turning a corner, Penelope froze in her tracks when she spotted Theo instead accompanied by Percy Weasley.
She counted to three before taking a deep breath, mask falling into place.
"Good afternoon, Theo, Percy," she nodded a little stiffly to the latter. "How are you doing?"
"A little busy here and there but otherwise I'm perfectly alright," Theo smiled. "Percy here, on the other hand, is doing double time—well, more double than the usual."
"Oh, I wouldn't really call it double time."
Percy smiled sheepishly and looked down at his feet. If he wasn't holding anything, Penelope was sure he would fidget his hands.
"Oh, come on!" Theo clapped Percy on the shoulder a little enthusiastically. "It's perfectly normal for soon-to-be fathers to be working round the clock. You're feeding two people now."
Penelope felt all the air leave her lungs in one swoosh.
"Audrey's pregnant?"
Percy nodded proudly. A crooked smile gracing his lips—the one that used to make her heart flutter. "Three weeks," he confirmed.
"Oh. Congratulations," she said, her tone devoid of any emotion. Percy didn't seem to notice.
"Thank you, Penny."
She felt like being sucker-punched to the gut. It was his pet name for her back when they were still students at Hogwarts. They continued dating after they graduated but things changed drastically when the ongoing feud between Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge became much tenser. Her parents forbade her from seeing him, telling her that Percy had become one of those Ministry sycophants and they eventually lost all contact until after the second wizarding war was over.
In order to rekindle their relationship, she begged Hermione, who was four years her junior, to accept her as an assistant—a position she was more than qualified—just to get closer to him.
But in the end, Percy chose Audrey over her.
"Hermione's on her way back from her lunch," Penelope said a little hurriedly. Desperately wanted to escape his presence. "If you're willing to wait…"
The two wizards nodded and Penelope briskly walked ahead, leading them to the adjoining room of Hermione's office reserved for guests.
"Would you two like some tea or coffee perhaps?"
"No, thank you," Theo declined politely, still oblivious to the tension surrounding him. "We've just had lunch."
"Okay, then."
As soon as the two were settled, she hastily made her exit but stopped before the doors. She turned just in time to see Percy Weasley looking at her with sadness in his eyes.
"We're in the same boat now, Miss Skeeter. Take care not to tip it over. If you do, I can only save one of us from drowning."
Rita Skeeter understood Lucius Malfoy's words for what it was—a threat. Plain and simple.
"I won't," she reassured him. "If there is nothing else, then, shall we get started on with the story?"
"Of course," Lucius grabbed another glass and poured her two fingers of firewhiskey. "Where would you like to start?"
"The beginning, if you would," she took a tentative sip and felt slightly smug when she didn't cough this time. "I'd like to know how you and your wife became reacquainted after the war."
"I supposed it started during the final battle," he walked back to the window and stared at the gardens. "Tell me, Miss Skeeter. Where were you at that time?"
"I was… I was hiding. Preparing to flee."
"So do we at that time—my ex-wife and I. We were planning on fleeing the country to hide once we got Draco. We've had enough of him. Our things were already packed and ready and we're just waiting for the perfect timing. But things went sideways when Narcissa forgot to tell me one vital information."
Collective gasps could be heard across the Great Hall. No one was more surprised than the Dark Lord himself when Harry Potter once again defied death and rose for the second time. Like a fly that just won't die no matter how many times you swat it. And then Draco, in a sudden bout of heroism, ran across the Great Hall and threw his wand at the not-so-dead Harry Potter.
It was then Lucius realized that his family had completely defected and he was the last one to make a choice. Between the Dark Lord and his family, you could hardly call it a choice. He grabbed Narcissa's hand and fled after their son who disappeared amongst the fighting.
A green jet of spell whizzed past his wife, missing her by an inch and Lucius looked behind to see the Dark Lo—no, his name was Voldemort. It was time Lucius stopped thinking of that loathsome creature as his master. The Malfoys served no one but themselves. Lucius saw that Voldemort had fired the spell and was about to fire another when Harry Potter stepped in and the last thing Lucius saw as they turned around a corner was a bright huge spark when the spells of both wizards met in the middle.
"Where could he be?" he heard Narcissa asked him.
"He might've gone to the dungeons."
A spell went past him and singed a part of his hair. "Blood traitors!" he heard someone screamed.
Lucius made to grab his wand out of reflex but then he realized that slimy noseless bastard had taken it. Before he could react, Narcissa pulled him away and fired back, hitting the unknown assailant squarely in the chest. Lucius smiled at his wife in gratitude and she squeezed his hand in return. Narcissa had always been an efficient fighter but he still hated feeling so useless. He was supposed to be the protector.
"Let's go."
As they made their way, a large explosion coming from the marble staircase nearly knocked them off balance. Students were running in the opposite direction, away from the blast, but they still couldn't see any sign of their son. Lucius could feel that his wife was getting frantic as another equally large explosion sounded off.
They could barely see as the entire place was filled with smoke and dust. Squinting so hard, his eyes were already tearing, trying to see through the haze. On the far end corner of the place was a pile of rubble and Lucius saw a familiar flash of blond hair underneath it. Oh no.
"Draco!"
They both stopped in their tracks when they noticed that it wasn't just Draco lying unconscious on the ground. There, on top of him with her arms spread wide as if shielding their son, was Potter's Mudblood friend Hermione Granger. If it weren't for the blood trickling on her back, Lucius would've thought they were just sleeping. Narcissa levitated the rocks and knelt to examine the two.
"Help," a frail voice sounded on the other side of the rubble. Lucius looked around and saw that it was Blaise Zabini, half of his body was trapped underneath a large piece of debris. Lucius pushed it off and helped the boy on his feet. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
"What happened here?"
"Dolohov and Lestrange," Blaise coughed. "They tried to kill us. Draco and I didn't have our wands but Granger saved us."
"Can you still walk?" Lucius asked him and the boy nodded.
"Lucius, she's bleeding a lot. We need to take them to St. Mungo's," Narcissa said.
At his nod, his wife then instructed him to carry the girl while she levitated Draco.
Lucius lifted the limp girl into his arms, surprised at how light she was. Her skin was drained of color every minute that passed. It wasn't the first time Lucius had seen her unconscious and bleeding. If this girl survived, whatever the outcome of the war, they're now forever in her debt.
"I didn't know about that part," Rita Skeeter said in a rush, completely enraptured by the story. "Everyone says you all fled the battle."
"Of course, that's what they would all say," he drawled. "We were holed up in St. Mungo's for the remainder of the war. We also took the time to arrange a couple of things when we found out—by the sudden cheers outside the hospital room—that Potter had finally vanquished Voldemort for good."
"What things?"
"My divorce, for one."
Lucius stood on the other side of the room while his wife sat by their son's bed. He glanced to his left where the Mudlbood witch lay unconscious like his son.
The healers said Draco's health was stable now and he should wake up anytime soon. They had Granger to thank for it because it was her who took most of the impact—something the healers kept saying to them every single time one of them would check up on Draco or her.
He walked towards his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Cissa, we need to talk," he sighed.
"What is it?"
"The divorce—we have to start arranging it now."
"Lucius are you out of your mind?"
"Voldemort is gone and the Aurors will be here soon to take me away," he took her slim hands in his and squeezed it tight. "I'm not going to let the two of you suffer the consequences of my terrible choices in the past—not if I can do something about it. I want you and Draco to distance yourselves away from me. I will do whatever I can, form whatever deal to ensure the two of you will not face any trial."
"That's ridiculous!" His wife exclaimed. "I saved Potter's life!"
"And he saved Draco's so he owes us nothing. Lest you forget the Mudbl—" he stopped himself and spared a glance at the witch in question. No, he had to stop thinking like that if he ever wanted to survive in this new world. "Lest you forget that Potter's Muggleborn friend over there also saved our son during the final battle."
Narcissa's shoulder slumped and it was so jarring to see his wife lose her poise. The toll of his choices weighed heavily on her.
"Cissa, you are a great wife—so much more than I could ever hope for when our parents had arranged this marriage—and I'll forever be grateful to you for giving me Draco. You deserve a great life but I don't think I can give it to you anymore."
"It really has come to this?"
"Don't look so shocked, my dear," he smiled resignedly at her. "We've been talking about this for a while now. We were only waiting for Draco to come of age so we wouldn't have to talk about custody."
She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Oh, you'll dare fight me over our son's custody?"
"Of course. What would people think if I just gave in to my wife's demands so easily?"
"Arse."
They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a laugh—something they hadn't done in a while.
"Just promise me you'll come and visit me in prison when things had died down. Severus is gone and I have no one else apart from you and Draco."
"It may not come to that, Lucius."
"I'm not getting my hopes up. I've already evaded Azkaban once. I don't think they'll fall for the same excuse again."
"We'll see ."
"So Narcissa was the one behind the verdict?"
Lucius raised a finger and tapped it on his chin in a contemplative mood.
"That's what everyone thinks but I knew Narcissa. I kept going back to my memories of that day and my trial and the more I review it, the more I'm sure it wasn't my ex-wife."
"Then who was behind—oh," Rita Skeeter's eyes widened in surprise, her red-tinted lips forming an 'o' shape.
"Your guess is the same as mine, Miss Skeeter, but Hermione denies everything even until now."
A smirk was playing on his lips. Skeeter resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Well, of course, she would deny it."
Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of the courtroom, proud as the day he was born. His wrists were cuffed with thick chains connecting it to the equally heavy cuffs on his feet. An Auror and his lawyer stood a few feet behind him. It was the same lawyer that finalized his and Narcissa's divorce.
He looked up to his right where his now ex-wife sat at the top benches. He'd told her not to attend his trial but there she sat, her lips pressed in a tight frown. Thankfully, Draco had refused to be in attendance, sparing Lucius the humiliation of his son witnessing him in such a state.
It had been a month since the Aurors took him away from St. Mungo's and placed him in a detention cell inside the Ministry. It was a relief since he expected to be thrown away immediately into one of the dingy cells of Azkaban.
He was the last Death Eater to be put on trial—not that there were many Death Eaters left. From what he'd found out, as soon as Voldemort turned into a pile of ashes—how he wished he'd been a witness to that—most of his comrades either fought to their deaths or fled the scene. The ones the Aurors captured were the lowest of the low-ranking Death Eaters.
Lucius also found out that the Lestrange Blaise Zabini was referring to was none other than his sister-in-law Bellatrix who—to his relief—died in battle at the hands of Molly Weasley.
"How do you plead?" the booming voice of Tiberius Ogden echoed across the chamber, bringing Lucius back to the present.
It felt like déjà vu. Ogden was the wizard who presided over Lucius' trial after the First Wizarding War and now, here sat the old bastard once again but this time, Lucius had no more plausible alibis or excuses left to present.
"Guilty," he said clearly and calmly. "Guilty of all charges."
It was eerily quiet in the courtroom. Everyone fully expected him to plead not guilty and Lucius resisted the urge to look so smug at that. He needed to present a repentant image to the jury.
I deserved this, Lucius thought as he tried to convince himself so.
If not for the crimes they have listed before him, then for putting his own family at risk because of the foolish and rash decisions he made in the past. Never again will he let some monomaniacal dark lord dictate him.
After the exchanging of testimonies between his lawyer and the prosecutor, the jury convened at the back of the courtroom surrounded by a thick layer of privacy charms. Why they had to take some time to discuss his sentence when he'd already pleaded guilty to all of his crimes was beyond him. He was tired and anxious to get this over with. On the bright side, there were no more dementors in Azkaban—as if there was still a happy memory left in him that they could suck out.
Lucius scanned the crowd once more. Narcissa was still seated on the upper right. He smiled weakly at her and she returned the gesture. His eyes then traveled to the other side and he froze when his eyes landed on a pair of whiskey-colored eyes.
Hermione Granger was staring at him, her face betrayed no emotion. Beside her sat the Boy Who Just Won't Die, Harry Potter.
From what Narcissa had told him, the Granger girl gained consciousness four days after Draco did. Granger and Potter had managed to convince the Order to spare Narcissa and Draco any trial, claiming they were under duress at that time. Severus' memories from Potter also helped corroborate that story.
Lucius wondered what they were both doing here in his trial. Probably to feel some satisfaction at seeing him being sentenced to Azkaban for life.
Granger broke her gaze away from him to whisper something in Potter's ear. Lucius could tell it was unpleasant and it was about him for Potter's face turned into a grimace and he sneered in Lucius' direction. Potter then stood and left her side with a huff of indignation. But instead of heading to the door, he went to the back of the courtroom with the jury.
After almost twenty minutes, the discussion was finally over. Potter went back to his seat beside Granger, a look of mild irritation masking his features. He whispered something that made the corner of her lips slightly turn up and Lucius felt confusion at the contrast to their expressions.
Tiberius Ogden called the attention of the court again and Lucius stood once more to the middle to receive the verdict.
"Mr. Malfoy, the majority of the Wizengamot has ruled in your favor. Instead of Azkaban, you will spend ten years on probation. Your wand will be confiscated and you will be prohibited from using the services of house-elves. The court will also require you to provide financial reparations and there will be weekly check-ups from an Auror that will be assigned to you. Any violation from the terms of your probation will result in immediate internment at Azkaban for the remainder of your probationary period," Tiberius Ogden announced.
Lucius couldn't believe it and from the look of his lawyer, neither could he. He almost wept with relief that he would not be sent back to Azkaban. Lucius glanced to his left to find that Potter was gone and only Granger was sitting there staring at him. But this time there was a smug look on her face.
The sound of the gavel smacking against the sound block was drowned out by the rumble of talking throughout the room.
"Court is adjourned."
One had to be well familiar with the twist and turns in Knockturn Alley to be able to traverse these narrow and dark alleyways at night.
Dennis Creevey pressed his body between a slim opening, letting the shadows engulf his hooded form. It was a neat little magic trick they've adapted from the Death Eaters back then and was now being taught at Auror training.
He pulled out a camera and took a few snaps of another hooded figure passing by, the device only emitted a muffled crick.
It was his brother's camera. After Colin died, most of his things were donated to a Muggle orphanage except the Muggle camera. Dennis made a few adjustments like removing the flash and adding some silencing charms to it—which really came very handy for this current errand he was doing for Blaise Zabini.
It was just a simple job, Zabini said. Follow Cormac McLaggen and take a few photos. Stay hidden. No questions.
Dennis had heard recently that McLaggen was appointed as the next Senior Undersecretary. The Ministry was probably doing a secret background check on him to make sure he's clean. It was not as if the guy was killing Muggles for sport like a Death Eater. McLaggen was in Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake!
It was now way past ten. Most of the shops in Diagon Alley would be closed but Knockturn Alley was just starting to come alive. All manner of seedy establishments lined up the street and Dennis had to wonder why the Ministry wasn't conducting any raids in any of them.
He continued to follow McLaggen stealthily as the latter led him deeper in, only one set of footsteps could be heard. Dennis thought that this spying thing was entirely amusing.
After turning another corner, McLaggen finally stopped in front of a dingy establishment and dropped his hood. Dennis immediately snapped two photos in quick succession. One is zoomed in on McLaggen's face while the other captured his surroundings.
A woman wearing skimpy clothing ushered McLaggen in and Dennis noticed that the establishment had no signs above it but he would bet his beloved camera that it was some kind of brothel. He already got a lot of incriminating photos of McLaggen but still, it wouldn't hurt to stake him out.
Dennis circled back to look for another entrance. Establishments like this were no different from the Muggle ones where there was a backdoor to use for escape when the police or, in this case, the Aurors conducted a raid.
He slipped inside once he found the said backdoor and pulled his hood tighter to his face as he made his way through each room. Nearly an hour later, he was down to the last two doors. The sound of a doorknob turning on his left made him sprint to the nearest alcove and pressed himself within the shadows.
Exiting the room was none other than Cormac McLaggen himself looking smug and freshly shagged, whistling as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway. Dennis pulled out his camera and waited for the woman McLaggen was with to come out so Dennis could take one last photo of them together but McLaggen had already disappeared to the lobby and no one came out.
He pushed himself off the wall and entered the room McLaggen just exited. The sight that presented Dennis almost made him faint. There, tied to the bed was a naked woman, her neck bent at an odd angle. Welts and marks covered most of her body as well as streams of blood, drool, and tears.
Dennis dropped his camera and staggered back. He'd seen dead bodies before, during the final battle, had even seen his brother's corpse being lifted towards the other pile of bodies, but this one completely shocked him through his core. He was rooted to the spot, felt his limbs frozen. Then the stench of sex in the room hit him. He doubled over and vomited on the spot, missing his camera by an inch.
Take a few photos. Stay hidden. No questions.
Zabini's firm words rang in his head. Dennis took deep breaths through his mouth until he finally found the strength to move. He pulled out his wand and cleaned the pool of vomit on the floor. Picking up the camera, he steeled himself and took three photos of the dead woman from different angles. Hopefully, it'll be enough.
He quietly slipped back out unnoticed. Once Dennis was outside, he ran as fast as his legs would allow until he felt his lungs would combust. And then he stopped and cried harder than the day he held his brother's lifeless body.
Colin, forgive me.