A/N: I can't overstate how much everyone's support means to me. This is my first fanfic and your feedback/interactions with this story have given me a lot more confidence in publishing my work online! Also, I've been in denial about this for a few weeks now, but there's no way this story is only going to be 14 chapters long. I need at least a few more chapters than that to finish this extended train of thought!
"You're one lucky bloke, eh, you know that?"
The Auror's words startled Draco, causing him to crumple the newspaper he'd been staring at in complete shock for the past few minutes. He felt inclined to agree with the officer given the news he'd received just awhile earlier, and his gaze darted down to the newsprint in his hands once more just to make sure he hadn't imagined it all.
No, it's still real.
For the second time in as many months, Hermione fucking Granger had gone out of her way to publicly save his hide when she arguably had no reason to.
"Hermione Granger, War Hero, Calls for Immediate Release of Former Nemesis Draco Malfoy"
The headline alone was shocking enough, but her actual statement was altogether stunning.
"Like me, Draco Malfoy was recently the victim of a horrific attack motivated by hatred at the hands of deranged wizards. Yet unlike me, he's received none of the considerations that any victim of magical assault should be entitled to. In fact, his persecution has only continued at the hands of the people and institutions that were meant to protect him as they now protect me.
"Draco Malfoy may have once been my enemy, but I've seen firsthand that he's changed for the better. He deserves a chance at justice now, not recrimination. As a magical society we must do better. We can start by recognizing the possibility of rehabilitation if we ever want to rise above the harmful divisions that led us to war. This means acknowledging that some people can be redeemed, instead of insisting that all who stray from the light be perpetually punished for it.
"I call on Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Miranda Marwick, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to see that justice prevails. Release Draco Malfoy from custody immediately, and give him the same affordances as a victim of magical assault that I've been given."
He couldn't believe it. Never in a million years would he have expected Granger to speak up for him, especially considering the things he heard he'd done to her only a few days ago. Sure, she'd spoken in his defense at his trial, but that was different. This time, there was no one compelling her to speak on his behalf. This time, he'd personally tortured her.
Lost in thought, he stared at the grainy black and white animated photograph that depicted her speaking at St. Mungo's surrounded by reporters, flanked by both of her best friends. Despite her visible exhaustion, there was a stern tilt to her mouth and an angry crease between her brows.
She's angry for me—on my behalf...
"That's twice now you've avoided Azkaban," the Auror continued conversationally as he entered Draco's cell, "Coulda sworn the next time you walked out of here it would be on a one-way trip there."
The older man shook his head in disbelief and whistled lowly while gesturing at Draco to get up, "What's more, I heard your friend's got Marwick in a tizzy. 'S a rare sight, that is. Never thought I'd see the day anything ruffles that woman."
Granger's not my friend... yet.
Draco dropped the newspaper and stood without responding, allowing the Auror to shackle him for what would hopefully be the last time ever in his life. As he shuffled awkwardly out of his cell and was led to the end of the cell block, he contemplated Granger's words and the faith she seemed to have in him. He also wondered at the power they seemed to hold, such was their authority. Her words had quickly moved the rusty gears in a still-recovering magical government that was infamous for its tortuous bureaucracy. It was more faith than most people had ever shown in him, and he wondered at the source of her conviction.
I'm not complaining, he thought wryly. It's more than I deserve, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I owe you Granger—for the rest of my life.
The pair walked into a holding area where another Auror was waiting with the items Draco had been wearing when he was apprehended. His shackles were removed, and some paperwork was signed before he was sent off to a side room to change back into his robes. When all was said and done, he was released with no explanation for why he'd been held and interrogated without official charges in the first place. He decided not to push his luck.
He was given his wand and escorted out of the Ministry's temporary holding cells, out of the Auror department, and into the Ministry's bustling atrium. Pleasantly surprised at the lack of media attention, he made his way over to the fireplaces amidst the mid-afternoon traffic, and Floo'd to the manor to give his mother the good news.
When he finally stepped into his childhood home, he felt a wave of relief wash through his limbs. Never before had he been so sure he was going to Azkaban, and never before had freedom tasted so sweet, not even in comparison to his trial from a few months ago. In a silent reprieve before he sought out his mother, Draco made a promise to the universe and to himself.
He would become the kind of person that someone like Hermione Granger could respect. Not because of any secondary motives to get ahead, not so he could use her for his own selfish ends, but just because he cared that much about her opinion of him, now more than ever. It felt like exhaling from a years-long breath once he fully acknowledged this to himself.
He wanted to be a better person for her, as ridiculous at that sounded. There was hope yet for him—she'd made sure of it. And how typical of her, such a perfectly Gryffindor course of action. Yet he was no longer complaining. How could he, when she was the only reason he was a free man right now? Twice now, it seemed Granger had been one of the only things standing between him and prison.
Of course, none of this erased the years of conditioning he'd received. It would take more than a few months and one instance of physical assault to strip him of the now-instinctual bigotry he'd learned to use as a crutch. He could disavow himself of it, but old habits were a bitch to break. He could pretend all he wanted, but there was still an undercurrent of meanness in him, he just hid it better now.
Experience had shown him that he didn't have to wield the darkest sides of him for evil purposes, though. He may not be able to change overnight his predispositions for Slytherin behavior, and indeed, why should he want to? No, he had a better idea. He'd use those qualities to achieve ends someone like Granger might appreciate.
Draco glanced up at the muted sound of heels clicking against the marble floor of the foyer. There was only one person it could be, and he felt a flood of relief at the sound of her approach. His mother swept into the room with tears in her eyes, and with an uncharacteristic lack of composure. They rushed to each other and when she was within arm's reach, he engulfed her in a hug.
"My dragon," she said with relief, clutching him fiercely before pulling back to look at him, "I thought I had lost you."
"You almost did," he quipped, tightening their hug and then releasing her. "If it wasn't for Hermione Granger, I'd be on my way to Azkaban. Again."
His mother responded softly, shaking her head once before shooting him a quizzical look, "I must admit, I was shocked to see her statement in the paper this morning. Were you expecting it?"
Her implicit question passed unspoken between them, Why is she defending you?
Draco shook his head, "I was as surprised as you were, Mother. An Auror casually stopped by my holding cell early this afternoon to tell me an executive decision had been made to release me immediately. He handed me a copy of today's Prophet when I asked why. Considering what I did to her..." here he looked down and paused, "I'm—we're indebted to her."
The pair made their way out of the room and into the foyer, and when Draco had finished speaking Narcissa abruptly turned to clutch him in another bone-crushing hug.
"I care not to whom we're indebted if it means you remain free, my son. There are far worse people to whom we could owe a debt of this magnitude in the present circumstances. Regardless of how terribly our relationship with her began, Miss Granger will hereupon receive nothing but gratitude and grace from the Malfoy family. It's the least we can do."
She paused, and here a cold ire began to rise deep within his mother's eyes, "As for the miscreants who thought to destroy the Malfoy name for their own dark devices—who sought to take my son from me... well that, my dear, is another story."
He smirked at the crafty and vengeful look that had crept into her expression, "I would expect nothing less from you, Mother."
They made their way to his mother's favorite veranda overlooking a small duck pond, and settled in for late afternoon tea. The normalcy of their quiet reprieve gave Draco whiplash. Just a few hours ago, he'd been filled with the anxiety and certainty of knowing his life was over. What's more, he'd been prepared to accept it given what he'd done to deserve it. Yet here he was now, contemplating the odd machinations of fate that had led him to freedom once again.
Of one thing he was sure. Like Narcissa, he intended to take down every single person who had thought to kick the Malfoys while they were down.
You won't get away with this.
Two days later, Draco arrived in Hogsmeade anticipating an uphill battle against what was sure to be an avalanche of negative public opinion at Hogwarts. The news of his release had been published the day after he'd returned to Malfoy Manor. Predictably, it was another front-page headline in the Prophet announcing the sudden turn of events, this time in his favor.
"Malfoy Heir Secretly Released from Auror Custody Amidst Public Outcry"
His quiet release seemed to have caused a division amongst English magical society, even within pureblood circles. A surprising amount of Granger's former detractors, some of them former Death Eaters, had sided with her in this instance. Whether because they actually believed in her message, or because they opportunistically chose to capitalize upon the possibility of lessening their plight, he didn't know. Truly, it was his mother who'd done most of the legwork to learn where everyone stood on the matter. Many were masquerading under the flag of unity as a vehicle to ingratiate themselves despite their unapologetically undertaken crimes of the past.
Still, there was a sizable contingent of magical society who disagreed with Granger, who thought her mind had been addled from repeated exposure to the Cruciatus, among other things. This condescending and nearly paternalistic contingent of witches and wizards insisted her word could no longer be trusted given her mental trauma, and the thought enraged him, as he was sure it must also enrage her. To be belittled and questioned after surviving such horrific trauma, after sacrificing so much for the wizarding world... he was somewhat familiar with the feeling, but he deserved it. He was less accustomed to being able to empathize so strongly with Granger, though.
She'd done nothing wrong, yet while he had the luxury of selective amnesia, through no fault of his own she carried the full weight and memory of what had happened to both of them. Draco was determined to make things right with her, one way or another.
From what little he could remember of the events before he left the Slytherin common room that fateful Friday night, he knew that there was more to the story than just Nott, Selwyn, and Mulciber. After all, Pansy had mentioned an entire secret society operating under everyone's noses. He'd eventually have to get to the bottom of Pansy too, given her knowledge of the Sons of Salazar, but that would have to wait for now.
Draco adjusted the lapels of his woolen cape and made his way up the hill towards the castle to meet with McGonagall, appreciatively noting the lack of activity given the very early hour. He'd owled the Headmistress the day he'd been released from Auror custody, and she'd suggested he take a day to gather his wits before returning to school so they could discuss his situation. He was glad he'd followed her advice, if only for the opportunity to see his mother and regroup.
He reached the school's gates without incident, and was relieved to find the Headmistress waiting for him with what looked like a genuine, if wary, smile on her face. Although the second war had aged her considerably, the intelligent spark in her eye still shone as fiercely as ever.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said in succinct greeting, walking with him to the castle's front doors, "A relief to have you back. Let us speak in my office, we have much to discuss."
They made their way quietly through empty hallways, bathed in early morning sunlight until they reached the staircase that led to her quarters. Wordlessly, he followed McGonagall up the stone steps, remembering the last time he'd climbed them to turn himself in just a few short days ago. That encounter had gone far differently than he'd expected it would, as had the sequence of events following it. He wondered if this meeting would lead to a similarly unpredictable sequence of events.
McGonagall didn't take a seat when they arrived in her office, nor did she ask him to. Instead, she made her way to a tall, narrow cabinet near the far side of her desk. It was encased in glass and emitted a soft ethereal light. She pulled two small, vials of liquid from it—one crystal clear, the other silvery—and then turned to face him with a sharp look in her eye.
"Mr. Malfoy, when we discussed the conditions of your attendance for this year, we briefly touched upon extenuating circumstances. Given Miss Granger's public statement in your favor, and now that additional vital information has come to light, the school board and I have decided your enrollment at Hogwarts remains in effect. And despite serious reservations on my part, your position as Head Boy also remains intact at Miss Granger's strenuous insistence."
Draco's expression remained stoic in contrast with his growing sense of satisfaction. Despite their best efforts, that bunch of bigoted secret society arseholes hadn't totally ruined his chances of redeeming himself after all. Something must have bled into his expression because McGonagall's tone took on a stern edge.
"Having said that, I've decided your continued status as a Hogwarts student, not to mention Head Boy, is contingent upon two things. I've discussed these requirements with both the school board and with Miss Granger, and all of us have agreed upon my proposed methods. The student body's trust in the authority of your position as Head Boy will be jeopardized unless we can show that you submitted to these requests as proof of your innocence."
Intrigued, Draco's attention shifted to the small vial of clear liquid she held in her left hand, which she extended out to him.
"First, I am asking you to take this dose of Veritaserum, and then answer a series of questions from me about the attack that took place, as well as questions regarding your intentions towards Miss Granger. I plan to preserve the memory of this session as part of an ongoing Auror investigation."
Draco gingerly took the small vial from her hands, staring down at it pensively.
McGonagall continued speaking, "Second, Miss Granger has requested that you view what happened the night of her attack, so that you may understand more fully what happened not only to her, but to you as one of the victims of the assault. Although she has very graciously offered her memories of the night, Aurors have instead provided Elezier Selwyn's memories to me for your perusal as part of an ongoing plea deal on his behalf."
Here she paused, "It will be more instructive if you see how things unfolded from his perspective. It is completely at your discretion whether or not you wish to submit to any of these requests, but your attendance at Hogwarts is contingent upon your acquiescence to both of them."
Draco's gaze quickly lifted to meet McGonagall's impassive expression. Without hesitation he responded, "I'll do it. Whatever it takes to prove I never wanted any part in it, I'll do it."
He uncorked the small glass vial he'd taken from her, and slid three drops of the colorless liquid into his mouth. A slightly cold sensation slithered down his throat and quickly settled in his stomach before spreading through the rest of his body, leaving a subtle chill in its wake.
"Very well, then," the Headmistress nodded decisively and led him to her desk, where she took a seat and gestured for him to do the same. He handed the vial back to her and sat across from her.
McGonagall began asking him a litany of questions, the first of which were mundane enough, before they steadily veered into more specific territory.
"Please state your full name", bled into questions like, "What do you remember about the night of Friday, September 4th," which in turn bled into, "What do you know about the Sons of Salazar," and, "Have you ever wanted to harm Hermione Granger?"
In each case, Draco responded swiftly no matter how personal the questions became—he'd been interrogated by Aurors multiple times already, after all.
He felt as if he was drunk without the inebriation now, as if it was the most natural thing ever to explain to McGonagall that his name was Draco Lucius Malfoy, that the last thing he remembered from his Friday night was drinking in Slytherin common room, that he'd never heard of the Sons of Salazar before Pansy mentioned them Sunday morning, and that he had never felt the urge to physically harm Granger despite his incessant bullying of her when they were younger.
Then came the more amorphous questions, the open-ended inquiries that revealed what he'd only recently realized. It started with McGonagall's question, "How do you feel about Hermione Granger and what you did to her?"
Without hesitation, Draco replied, "I feel ashamed and disgusted with myself for having been forced to hurt her, and for ever having made her think she was beneath me. Twice now, she's spoken on my behalf, saved me from a future full of misery in Azkaban. And twice now, I've witnessed or participated in her torture, doing nothing to help her in return for the kindness she's shown me because I'm too weak and pathetic of a wizard to have fought back. Yet I'm selfish enough to believe I still have a chance at any sort of interaction with her, because she's good, and kind, and forgiving... and I'm enough of a git to take advantage of that. If I have to spend the rest of my life saying sorry to that witch, it will be worth it for the good she's done me. Doesn't hurt that she's got an amazing arse, either."
Here the tips of Draco's ears turned pink with embarrassment, but he barreled on while avoiding McGonagall's gaze, "I've begrudgingly admired her for years despite being indoctrinated to hate people with her blood status. She doesn't know it, but she helped me begin to realize the hate I was taught is rubbish. I want to earn her respect, even though there's little chance of that after what I did to her."
McGonagall gave him an undecipherable look, the pregnant pause extending between them for a few long moments before she continued with her line of questioning. By the time she was done 45 minutes later, they'd explored every detail of what he remembered about the time leading up to his memory loss, as well as what he remembered after waking up that Sunday. They'd also explored his relationships with his various Slytherin housemates, as well as with various former Death Eaters.
When they were done, McGonagall exhaled deeply and caught his eye, "I appreciate your candor and willingness to submit to that interrogation on such short notice, Mr. Malfoy. I too believe you've been unfairly vilified in this case, and your cooperation only makes it easier to help your case."
Here she pulled out the second vial she'd taken from the cabinet earlier. She held the silvery substance before her and said, "This is Elezier Selwyn's memory from the night of Miss Granger's attack. Are you prepared to witness what occurred?"
Draco responded compulsively, "Yes, I'm ready."
The Headmistress held his gaze for another moment, and then stood to walk over to a pensieve that was sitting on a pedestal next to one of the room's many bookshelves. He stood to follow her, and came to a stop across from her as she poured Selwyn's memory into the confines of the stone basin.
"I'll be waiting here when you're done," she said, giving him a meaningful look before redirecting her attention to the pensieve, "The Veritaserum should have worn off completely by the time you've finished. I must warn you—it's not easy to watch."
With a growing sense of anxiety, Draco tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to witness. With a deep breath and an exhale, he placed both hands on either side of the pensieve and tentatively leaned over its glowing contents. He was immediately transported into the night of Saturday, September 5th as Selwyn experienced it, and began to relive the events with sickening clarity.
What felt like an eternity later, he emerged from the memory with ashen skin, dropped to his knees, and promptly threw up on the floor.
It had been far worse than he could have imagined, not just because of what he'd seen happen to Granger—nor just because of what he'd done to her, but also because of what he'd seen happen to him. He'd been brutalized and placed under the Imperio and Cruciatus curses as punishment for disavowing bigotry, and Theodore Nott had helped along every step of the way like a slimy brown-noser! Draco was vibrating with anger and nausea.
McGonagall rushed over to him in alarm and cleaned his vomit from the floor with a quick spell before touching his shoulder hesitantly.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?"
Draco shook his head and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, rising to stand at his full height, "I apologize Headmistress, I'm fine. I was just overwhelmed by what I saw. It was reprehensible."
McGonagall gestured for him to return to the seat in front of her desk once more. He sunk into it gratefully and ran his fingers through his hair with short, agitated movements. Now that he more clearly understood what had happened that night, he couldn't wrap his head around why Granger had chosen to defend him. He deserved to be punished for what he'd done to her, but he was too much of a coward to insist upon it now that he'd had a taste of freedom.
"Miss Granger's public statement on your behalf, as well as Mr. Selwyn's extracted memory and photographs recovered from that night are the only reasons why you're sitting before me as a free man, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said gravely.
"The Auror Department would have been setting themselves up for trouble had they chosen to prosecute you, especially once Elezier's memory was extracted and those photographs were discovered. It's unfortunate it took a few days for the truth to come to light, and I'm truly sorry for what you've gone through. Having said that, I urge you to tread lightly this year, for your own safety."
Draco scoffed, "Until I watched that memory, I didn't remember the half of it. It's Granger who deserves your sympathy, not me. She didn't have the luxury of being Obliviated like I was," he muttered with self-derision while pulling at his hair.
Then he sighed deeply, "But I'll be careful, Headmistress."
McGonagall nodded with satisfaction, "Very well."
They spent another half hour going over the logistics of his return to Hogwarts after having missed a few days, as well as discussing the role he'd be playing in the ongoing investigation of the Sons of Salazar, especially given the discovery of their secret room. He left McGonagall's office dazed by information overload, and was followed by one more warning from the Headmistress to please tread carefully.
Draco plodded back to his quarters deep in thought, acutely aware of the looks he was receiving from the few students who were awake at what was still an early hour on a Friday morning. Their expressions ranged from curious to accusatory, which was just as well. McGonagall had mentioned she would be making a school-wide announcement absolving him of culpability once and for all during breakfast, but that was still an hour away.
Granger wasn't expected back at Hogwarts until Monday, which meant he had one day of classes and two days during the weekend to pull himself together. He could work with that. He had no idea what had motivated her to insist upon maintaining their current living situation, but he was sure he would need to mentally prepare for it. He had too many questions and not enough answers about her motivations, but was cognizant that he would need to tread carefully with her given what she'd gone through. The curiosity was eating away at him incessantly, though.
Why Granger? Why stick your neck out for me like this?