Draco was undecided. When he had received the owl from the Aurors that asked him to testify, he'd immediately sent back his regrets. He couldn't do it, he couldn't sit in front of the members of the court and explain away his decision to not even hear what Colin was asking for, he couldn't justify his choice to send him away to his death. But something in his brain niggled at him. Could this be his only chance to make up for his mistake?
The morning of the trial Draco woke up to the first snowfall of the season. He watched the white flakes meander gently down through the kitchen window, and wondered if his decision not to testify was the right one. The house elves bustled around him as they cooked, but he barely heard the clatter of pots and the sizzle of bacon.
"Daphne isn't able to take Scorpius today," Astoria said, and Draco turned to see her standing in the doorway.
"Why?" he asked. "Is she planning on going as well?"
"Mother came down with another cold and has lost her voice this time," Astoria explained. "And you know how Father shies away from public speaking. Daphne has to fill Mother's spot in the Wizengamot."
"I see," Draco said. "Is Celine available?"
"I've checked with anyone I could think of, and everyone has said no. This is the event of the century, people don't want to miss it." Astoria gave a weary attempt at a chuckle, but it was clear she wasn't amused. "We're going to have to bring him with us."
"He's not watching..." Draco didn't finish.
"The Ministry has a daycare, darling. We'll leave him there. I know it's not ideal, but it's our only option at the moment."
Draco sighed but recognized her point. Astoria held out her hand. "Let's finish getting ready, Draco." He walked forward and took her hand. She squeezed it. "However this day plays out, we will get through it," she said firmly. "Whatever happens, you and I will get through."
Draco stared at her. She seemed to be trying to tell him something, and he had a feeling he knew what it was, but he wasn't going to say it out loud. She didn't seem to expect him to, for she gave him a tender kiss and lightly tugged him out of the room.
Scorpius didn't seem fazed when he was told where he'd be spending the day. He did ask why, and when Astoria gently explained, he lowered his head and nodded without a sound. The journey to the Ministry was silent, and Draco kept hold of Astoria's hand as though it were a lifeline. He noticed Scorpius had Astoria's other hand in a tight grip.
In the lift on their journey to the daycare, Scorpius tugged Draco's arm."Daddy, can we stop at the looloo?" Draco sighed internally but agreed. He exchanged an amused look with Astoria over Scorpius' term for the toilet.
Once they spotted one, Scorpius bounded away, and disappeared quickly into the room. Draco followed, and caught the sound of a stall door closing as he entered. "They make child size urinals," he said to himself, but Scorpius heard him, and protested from the inside of his stall. "I like sitting down!"
Draco exhaled noisily but decided not to argue further. He turned to find himself looking at his reflection in one of the many mirrors that lined the wall and looked quickly away, and at once wished he hadn't, for standing before him washing his hands was the last person he wanted to see.
Harry Potter hadn't noticed him yet; or, if he had, simply had chosen to ignore him. Draco stared at his back, a cold anger filling him, wiping all other thought from his mind. "He loved you, did you know that?" he snarled at the man's back.
"I'm sorry, are you talking to – " Potter stopped talking as soon as he recognized Draco, and his expression went from puzzled to irritated in the space of an instant. "What are you going on about, Malfoy?"
"That photographer kid loved you, even a perfect stranger could see that."
"I think I could figure out what my own boyfriend thought of me, thanks," Potter said coolly.
"And yet you repaid him like this?" His voice rose on the last note, unable to control his mounting emotions.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't," Draco spat.
"Don't you dare," Potter threw back at him. "I just lost my partner, and you have the nerve to attack me – "
"With what?" he laughed viciously. "Words? Can't handle the truth, Potter?"
"And what truth is that?"
"I think you had something to do with what happened to him!"
Potter blinked, but recovered quickly. "Prove it," he hissed.
"I will," Draco hissed back.
Potter threw him a look of deep loathing. Draco returned the look with a vengeance before the other man turned and stocked off, the bathroom door slamming behind him.
"Daddy?"
Draco spun around, mentally groaning; he'd forgotten his son was in one of the stalls. "Yes Scorp?"
"Why are you so mad at that man?"
Draco took a breath and slowly let it out, forcing himself to calm the blood rushing in his ears. "Daddy's upset because that man hurt an old schoolmate of his," he said.
"Oh." Scorpius moved to wash his hands.
Draco could tell his son was curious, but for once he didn't ask the questions that were surely on his mind, and for that he was grateful. He didn't know how to vocalize why he was so upset beyond his vague explanation. And what the hell is it with running into Potter in bathrooms, anyway? He shook his head as he followed Scorpius out of the room. Astoria had an odd expression on her face when they stepped out, but she didn't say anything. Her hand when she took his was trembling. He rubbed his thumb on the back of her knuckles in reassurance.
Entering the courtroom brought back a rush of emotions, and he took a deep breath. The last time he'd been in this room was for his Father's trial. He had hoped he'd never again set foot in Courtroom Ten. There were hundreds of people crowded in the stands, and perhaps more than that; the room seemed larger than it had been years ago. He heard a witch off to his right talking loudly to her companions about the impressive spell work used to magically enlarge the space, and had the strange urge to laugh. It faded as he looked at the witch: It was Granger, and she was standing next to Weasley.
Draco looked at Weasley and heard Potter's voice from earlier. Prove it, he'd said. He stopped. Looked at Astoria. "Wait here," he said quietly. She didn't protest, but let go of his hand, and he walked over to where Weasley and Granger were standing. "May I speak to you for a moment, Auror Weasley?" he asked politely.
He saw the other man's eyebrows disappear into outrageously ginger hair, and wanted to laugh again. But he held his tongue and followed Weasley away from his companions. "How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco took another deep breath. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll testify."
Weasley's face showed his surprise, but he didn't comment on Draco's change of heart. "Thank you," he said. "The order of witnesses for the case against the accused has been determined already, so you'll be called up after Faye Boot."
Draco gave a curt nod to show he understood and walked back to Astoria. She looked at him with an unreadable expression as she took his hand once more. They moved down to the front row, where a large section had been cordoned off for the witnesses and their families. Astoria sat down next to a young woman with long dark hair. She looked familiar, but Draco couldn't place her.
A loud voice penetrated the air, and Draco jumped slightly. "Please take your seats, the proceedings shall commence shortly." People slowly did as instructed, and chatter ebbed away as Draco saw the Wizengamot fill the seats high up in their booth. He glanced away as he felt movement to his right: An older woman in professional robes that marked her as a Mind Healer slid beside him, followed by Dennis Creevey. Draco looked at him a moment, but the other man didn't notice. He seemed dazed and his eyes were red. Draco looked away.
The Wizengamot were all seated now. Draco recognized several of the members, some of them having been his classmates at Hogwarts. Others were familiar, but he couldn't place their names. They were a much more eclectic group than in past years, a mix of young and seasoned, of people from all sorts of families, the blood traitors, muggleborns, and past Dark Lord supporters alike. This new Wizengamot had been born out of the ashes of the war, and while Draco couldn't say that he agreed with it per say, he hadn't spent much time worrying over it either. He'd been too busy trying to keep his head down at the time to focus on anything else.
A man coughed, adjusting the parchment in front of him, and his dark green robes stood out amongst the plum coloured robes of the other members. Draco raised his eyebrow in disbelief. How had Lee Jordan become the Scribe for the Wizengamot?
"We are here today for the trial of Harry James Potter," someone said, and Draco recognized his Aunt. He'd forgotten that Andromeda Tonks had been appointed the Chief Warlock some years back. "He is charged in the matter of the death of Colin Creevey. How does the accused plea?"
Draco looked to the middle of the room, where harry Potter sat with a man he didn't know. The man nudged Potter, and Potter looked up at the fifty members of the Wizengamot. "Not Guilty," he said clearly.
Lee Jordan scribbled on his parchment as Andromeda spoke again. "The accused is entitled to hear the evidence against him. Will the first witness against the accused please take the chair."
Ron Weasley stood up, and Draco heard a sharp intake of breath come from Potter as Weasley walked to a chair several feet to the left of where Potter sat. "Ron," Potter hissed, but the man next to Potter elbowed him, and he shut up.
The moment Weasley sat down, the chair glowed gold, and Draco's wasn't the only gasp of surprise. "What..?" he said softly.
Astoria nudged him. "Hermione Granger singlehandedly changed court proceedings," she breathed quietly. "She invented that spell. Watch this, it's really something." Draco glanced at her, then back at the Wizengamot as Andromeda Tonks spoke.
"Please state your full name."
"Ronald Bilius Weasley."
"How do you know the accused?"
"He's been my best mate since we were eleven."
"How do you know the deceased?"
"Colin became an accepted member of my family when he started going out with Harry."
"In what capacity will you be giving testimony?"
"I was the Auror in charge of the investigation."
"What is your job title?"
"Deputy to the Head Auror."
"You may proceed with your testimony."
From out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Lee Jordan wave his wand in Ron Weasley's direction, and the chair seemed to glow brighter. A slim gold thread shot up above them all, and shapes emerged as if from thin air. Draco's mouth fell open. Granger had invented this? How had she managed to figure out how to view a memory without diving into a Pensive? Weasley's memory - because it couldn't be anything else - unfolded in midair in the middle of the room, and Draco allowed himself a moment to be thankful his Father's trial hadn't been like this. He didn't think he could have watched his Father's crimes. It was bad enough that he'd had to live through some of them the first time.
Weasley sat at his desk. He was bent over, writing. The door burst open, and Granger and Astoria entered. "Hermione...?"
"Ron, this is Astoria Malfoy. She runs the organization known as The Underground, and she needs some Auror assistance."
"How I can I help you, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Several weeks ago, I assisted a client in escaping from their abusive partner. This morning, he left the building. I think his intention is to stop his partner from committing suicide, and I have reason to believe that his partner is not simply suicidal but also unstable, and I am worried for my client's safety."
"What is your client's name? And who is his partner?"
"Colin Creevey and Harry Potter."
Granger let out a strangled moan. Weasley looked stunned. "Do you have proof?"
Astoria handed over a small box. "These are all the letters that Harry Potter has been sending the last few weeks. I think you'll agree they're alarming, but we don't have time for you to read them, Auror Weasley. I need you to trust that I know what I am saying, and that I'm right. Please, find Colin. Find Harry."
Weasley looked at Granger for a long moment, then back at Astoria. "Are you able to give me any indication as to where Colin may have gone?"
Astoria simply said "Skye," and a house elf appeared. "Please take Auror Weasley to Colin Creevey."
"Wait, let me bring my partner," Weasley said. "If what you say is true, I may need the back up." He moved to knock on the wall behind him. An answering knock was heard a moment later, and hardly thirty seconds after that a youthful looking man with wildly purple hair came through the door. "Blake, we have a possible 51-50. I'll explain on the way."
Skye took both of the men by the hand and disappeared with a crack.
The scene changed. Weasley now stood in 12 Grimmauld Place. All was quiet. Weasley and the bloke he had called Blake moved through the house, wands raised. One room was darker than the others, and Weasley lit his wand, shining light on a bedroom. He pointed to the window. Blake moved to open the curtains. Light shone through, and a head could be seen peeking out from the bed covers. Weasley waved his wand. The blankets slid off the bed, exposing Colin Creevey. He was still dressed in daytime robes. He looked to be sleeping, and there was heavy bruising on his neck. "Colin?"
Weasley reached to touch Colin but pulled back. "Colin?" he said, louder this time. He waved his wand again, and his eyes widened in shock. "Blake we need to send a Patronus to Mallory."
The scene changed again. Weasley was still in the house, but assigning witches and wizards to tasks. "Mallory, please examine the - the body. Blake, check the house, you know what to look for - be thorough. TC, photographs please. Sammi, document everything. Catlyn, find out how to get in touch with next of kin. Fiona, interview Skye, find Harry. By the book people, we have to do this by the book. Let's go."
Another scene change. Weasley was standing in Kingsley's office. "Fiona found Harry, he's at Star Gazer's Park."
"I would like to come along, if I may. It's been awhile since I've been in the field."
"Of course, Sir. We're gathering now."
The scene switched again. Weasley was standing in a park, a human spoke in a large circle, of which Potter was the focal point...
Draco looked away from the memory, but he could still hear, and somehow it hurt to listen when Potter asked for Weasley to owl Colin. Draco had envied Potter for most of his life, but never more than in this moment. Potter spoke about Colin the way that Draco spoke about Astoria - a fact, a part of his life, a person who cared about him. If things had been different...
Draco shook himself and tuned back into the memories. He watched as Weasley showed bits of the investigation, listened to him ponder the evidence as fellow Aurors brought him their findings, and found himself grudgingly impressed. Weasley's final memory was of a conversation he had with Potter.
Weasley was in an interrogation room. Potter sat across from him. "Harry, it's me. You can talk to me. What happened that day?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You wrote a letter to Colin saying you were going to kill yourself."
"I didn't say that."
"But you implied it," Weasley countered.
"What does it matter?" Potter asked. "Where's Colin? Can I see him? Why am I being kept away from him?"
"We've been over this. Colin died, Harry. Do you remember? Do you remember how that happened?"
"Why do you keep saying that?" Potter asked in anger. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Is George in on this? If so it's not fucking funny."
"Harry, what happened that day?"
"I went to the park to meet Colin. He came. We talked. Sat together until it started to rain. We went home. Things got frisky, then he fell asleep! I wasn't tired, so I went out for a walk! Why do you keep asking me this?"
"There is a spell that they teach people becoming Healers," Weasley said wearily. "The spell can tell a Healer approximately how long it's been since their patient has been intimate. Our Healer said Colin hadn't been intimate in several weeks, right about the time he broke it off with you - "
"He didn't break it off with me!" Potter exploded. "He just needed some time, that's all, it wasn't permanent!"
Weasley sighed. "Harry, we've been over this and over this for days now. I want to believe you, I do, but the evidence the team has gathered is telling us a different story."
"I don't know what to tell you, Ron." Potter said. "You're wrong, I'm right. That's all there is to it."
Draco blinked rapidly as the scene ended. He'd been staring at the memory with rapt attention, and found his eyes were dry from not blinking as he watched.
The Chief Warlock spoke just as the gold faded from the chair. "Does any member have questions for this witness?" There was silence. "Let us proceed then. Will the next witness against the accused please take the chair."
A woman Draco didn't know stood up. The chair glowed gold once more as soon as she sat down. She looked confident, poised; her long curly hair was tied in a ponytail, and her robes marked her as a Healer.
"Please state your full name."
"Mallory Mae Mallard."
"Do you personally know either the accused or the deceased?"
"No, I do not."
"What is your job title?"
"I am the Head Healer for the Ministry. I specialize as a Magical Pathologist when needed."
"Please proceed with your testimony."
Draco was more prepared this time for the gold thread to appear, and soon Mallard's memory materialized above the room.
Mallard stood in the bedroom where Colin's body lay. She pointed her wand at him. Her wand made complicated patterns in the air.
Now she was standing in Weasley's office, giving him her report. "He was asphyxiated, Sir. A few hours ago. The bruising on his neck shouldn't have appeared so quickly but there was enough force behind the pressure that it sped up the process. He had a small round marking on his neck, an impression of something that was against his skin as he suffocated. I grew up in the muggle world, it looks to me like the zipper pull of a muggle jacket."
"Was it square, with a lightning bolt in the middle?"
"Yes Sir. Did you find a jacket like that at the scene?"
"Harry was wearing it when we picked him up," Weasley said unhappily. "His Godson made it for him."
"There's something else," Mallard said. "The killer was of magical blood, and upset or angry when this happened."
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"I'll spare you the details of the spell work," she said. "Basically, in the final moments, the killer gave off a burst of accidental magic. It allowed them to squeeze tighter than humanly possible."
"Accidental magic? How is that possible in fully matured witches or wizards?"
"It's rare, but I've heard from Mind Healers that in some cases, it is possible."
"This may be a silly question," Weasley said, "But I don't suppose you could tell who the killer is by analysing that magical signature?"
Mallard shook her head. "Magic is magic," she said. "I can tell if someone has magical blood, but distinguishing individuals is not possible."
"Thanks Mallory. I assume I'll receive a written report?"
"Yes Sir."
"Are there any questions for this witness?" the Chief Warlock asked as the memory faded away. Draco saw Susan Bones lean forward.
"Ms. Mallard, what spells did you use during your examination of the body?"
Mallard answered calmly and professionally, but Draco didn't have any knowledge of the spells she named. Susan Bones seemed to, however, for she nodded along, apparently impressed.
None of the other members had any questions after that, so they moved on to the next witness. Draco watched Blake's memories with a little too much attention (something about the way the purple haired man moved was enticing, but he couldn't pinpoint why).
Blake walked through the house, occasionally stopping to cast spells. He checked windows, doors, and walls extensively. He interviewed the house elf, asking questions about the house and the wards, but the elf muttered something about "not having to answer questions from a mudblood" and left the room. Blake continued his trip through the house, casting spells as he went.
Now Blake was standing in an office, talking to Weasley and a few others, all wearing Auror robes. "The house had impressive wards. Likely they've been there for centuries, and have gotten stronger with time; I'm fairly certain they originated from dark magic."
"That tracks, with what we know of the previous owners," Weasley said.
Blake shrugged. "The house is registered as Unplottable, and at some point there was a Fidelius Charm used, but that magic has been diluted with time. Too many people have been Secret Keepers. With that said, houses like these protect their owners, so it's likely no one would be able to get in the house without some sort of alarm going off."
"That makes sense," Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice spoke. "I take it you found no evidence of that?"
"None of the diagnostic spells I used showed any sign of it," Blake said. "All windows and doors were accounted for. Nothing I found suggested that anyone had broken in."
Draco watched as several other memories showed. Interviewing witnesses. Conversations with other Aurors discussing evidence. By the time Blake was finished showing memories, Draco was convinced that Potter was guilty. Not that he'd needed convincing in the first place, truth be told. He half-listened as Susan Bones again asked questions about the spells used, but he gave the proceedings his full attention once more as the next witness was called. He watched Astoria walk to the chair, his stomach clenched with nerves and fear and curiosity. Her memories, he could tell, had been chosen with care, each one adding to the story she told of a kind young man and the desperate situation she eventually learned he was struggling with. Draco was more ashamed than ever, watching her memories. She was so open-hearted, so loving to others.
Astoria watched Scorpius and Colin during their photography lesson, a smile on her face as she listened...
Astoria chatted with Colin while watching Scorpius concentrate on taking a photo of a tree. Colin's laughter was bright and merry...
Astoria asked Scorpius if Colin seemed different lately. He scrunched his face in confusion. "Differ'nt how, Mum?"
"Does he seem a bit sad to you?"
"He didn't laugh at my joke today. He always laughs. Does this mean he's being differ'nt?"
"I think it does, Scorp. Thank you."
Scorpius smiled at her and walked away...
Astoria watched Colin talk to Scorpius. He was struggling to keep a straight face. He seemed on edge...
Astoria asked Colin if he was okay, and anyone could tell that he wasn't just by looking at his face. He shook his head no and then he was talking, words rushing out of him...
Draco listened to Colin talking about Potter, and his fear and the accidents and the times he'd had to heal broken bones from Potter's careless hands, and with each word grew more and more sick. Why didn't he listen to Colin when he came, asking for help? He could have helped. He could have sent Colin to Astoria sooner.
Astoria talked to Colin about the Underground, and Colin agreed to go...
Astoria spent time with Colin and Scorpius in the garden at the Underground...
Astoria talked to Colin about options, and Colin talked about his thoughts, how he loved Potter, how he didn't want to leave him...
Astoria listened while Colin opened up about some of his more nasty fights with Potter, and Potter's depressive mindset and how he showed signs of post-traumatic stress...
And finally, Astoria finding out that Colin had left...
As the note of Astoria's last memory faded, Draco looked around. He felt like he were floating, as though he were watching the proceedings from far away. There were many wet eyes in the audience, he noticed. His wife had chosen her memories well.
"Does any member have questions for this witness?"
Madeline Flint cleared her throat. "The letter you mention that Colin Creevey received. What did it say?"
Astoria recited the letter from memory. Draco felt a flash of pride.
"And the other letters you read from the accused? What was in those?"
"Those letters are among the written evidence submitted by the Aurors," Astoria said. "But I can summarize what they said."
"Please do," Neville Longbottom spoke up from where he sat three seats away from Madeline Flint.
Draco listened in horror as Astoria recounted the letters. Potter had pleaded, threatened, begged, and often written illogical nonsense and irrational fears. There had even been mentions about a demon possessing him, which Draco rolled his eyes at. Bloody idiot didn't know anything about demons. They existed, but they didn't possess people. They possessed ghosts. The possession of a ghost by a demon was how Boggarts came into being.
There were no further questions when Astoria finished her explanation. Draco was grateful when she slid back into the spot beside him, and his hand immediately found hers. Well done, he mouthed at her. She gave him a shaky smile. He saw that she was holding back tears.
The next witness was one of Astoria's house elves. Skye had been the Greengrass' house elf, and became Astoria's when she married Draco as part of the family's wedding gift. When Astoria had opened the Underground, she had wanted a house elf she could trust to take care of the day to day running of the building, and it had been Draco's idea to use Skye.
Skye's memories were crisp, clear, more so than a normal memory. Draco wondered idly if it was true that house elves had better eyesight than humans. "Yes," Astoria breathed next to him, and he realized he'd asked the question out loud.
Skye watched Colin. He was standing under a large tree, staring at a man on a bridge. There were shouts of laughter nearby. Children playing. Colin watched Potter watch the children. Then he took a step. The closer he walked, the further away the sounds of the children became. Skye moved a little closer.
The man on the bridge looked up. Noticed Colin. Skye couldn't hear what the men were saying, but they appeared to be arguing.
Draco's stomach clenched as the memory unfolded. When he saw Potter and Colin kiss, an emotion he didn't want to name crawled through his veins. And as he watched Potter hold Colin tight he closed his eyes. He could hear the collective gasp of the entire room but he didn't want to see, knew what was happening based on what Mallory Mallard had shared earlier, and he couldn't face it. He felt Astoria bury her head in his shoulder.
The loud crack of someone apparating let him know that it was safe to look again, and he opened his eyes in time to see Skye appearing in front of large house. He could just make out Potter entering the building holding Colin in his arms. Skye stayed where she was. The scene faded, then reappeared. Harry Potter was walking out of the house.
Skye waited a few minutes. She entered the home magically. Careful to stay hidden and keep quiet, she wandered through the house. There was another house elf in the kitchen, but he was busy cooking and didn't see her. At last she entered a bedroom. It was dark, the curtains were drawn, but she conjured a ball of light. There was someone in the bed. She moved closer. There was Colin in front of her. She touched him lightly. He did not stir. She felt for a pulse. Not finding one, she gave a squeak of dismay and stumbled backwards. She apparated away with another loud crack.
"Does any member have questions for this witness?"
A man to the right of the Chief Warlock spoke. Draco recognized him as Winston Burke. "You were there when it happened. Why didn't you stop it?"
Skye's lower lip trembled. "I is not knowing what I is seeing, Sir. I is not close enough to know."
"One more question. How were you able to get into the house if the wards worked so well?"
Skye seemed puzzled. "I is told to check in on Colin Creevey," she said.
"Yes, but how were you able to enter the house?"
"Leave her be, Winston," an absentminded voice said a few seats away, and with a jolt Draco identified Luna Lovegood. "House elf magic isn't like wizard magic. They are able to do things we humans can only dream about."
Burke crossed his arms, but let it go. Draco thought Andromeda Tonks looked amused, but her voice was all business as she called for the next witness. The woman sitting next to Astoria stood up and made her way over to the chair. There was a gasp on Draco's right, and he turned his head to see Dennis Creevey staring in open mouthed shock at the woman who was now settling herself into the chair. Draco had no clue what that was about. He started to turn his head back, but his gaze fell upon a woman sitting in the row across from him. She too was staring down at the woman in the chair with a shocked expression. Draco raised his eyebrow at her green hair and wondered who she was, but the Chief Warlock started to speak and he turned back to the proceedings.
"Please state your full name."
"Jane Leanne Jones."
At this, Potter, who until now had seemed disinterested in what was transpiring around him, looked up sharply and turned to face the witness. "You?" he cried out as he stared at her in what could only be disbelief.
"Hi Harry," Jane Jones said quietly. "I take it that you were the one looking for me?"
"Months I spent - I thought - where were you - "
"Miss Jones," Andromeda Tonks broke in. "Perhaps you'd best explain how you know the accused."
"I know Harry through Colin," Jones said. "His brother Dennis Creevey is - was - my boyfriend. I met both Colin and Harry through my connection to Dennis."
"There is more to this story, I take it?"
"For reasons not relevant to this hearing, I left my family and friends and became a client at the Underground. In my haste to leave, I forgot to tell one person I was going." As she spoke, Jones' gaze searched the crowd, and Draco followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking at the green-haired woman Draco had seen earlier. "This person reported me missing. I'm told there has been an investigation into my disappearance for months."
"And it seems Harry Potter was assigned to find you."
"Yes Ma'am. It seems that way. I go by my middle name for most people, so Harry knows me as Leanne. But for work I use my first name. And the person who reported me missing knows me as Jane."
"As much as I'd like to hear the rest of what I'm sure is a very interesting tale, in the interest of keeping our eye on the ball here, would the witness please start her testimony?" Draco almost laughed out loud at John Fawley's bored tone.
Andromeda Tonks shot him a quelling look. "In due time, Mr. Fawley. Miss Jones, thank you for your candour. You may now show us your testimony."
Like Astoria, Jane Jones appeared to have given a lot of thought about the memories she would share. She showed recollections gathered over years, of laughter and tears. She interwove a story of Colin, a kind man who cared about people and loved photography, and Potter, the loving boyfriend who had quirks that seemed harmless but foreshadowed a troubled soul, in hindsight.
She dropped the lid of the pot on the floor after realizing it was too hot to hold. Potter screamed and dropped to the floor. Colin came running. "What's wrong," he asked, but tripped over Potter's legs and ended up sprawled on the floor. He laughed, and they joined him, the sound infectious, and the reason Colin fell in the first place was forgotten...
For perhaps the first time in his life, Draco understood what Potter had been thinking. He'd done the same thing for months after the war. Ordinary sounds frightened him, sent him spiralling into a panic, brought him to his knees as he hid behind the nearest object. It had been Astoria who gently coaxed him to seek the aid of a Mind Healer.
Jones was now sitting in what looked like a cafeteria. Across the room she locked eyes with Colin. He was shocked, she could tell. He started to walk toward her, but she shook her head. Wait, she mouthed. Colin looked confused...
Jones now stood in front of Colin. They were in the middle of a garden. "Now that we've cleared that up, what about you? Why are you here?"
"Harry," Colin said. "He's deeply messed up right now, and I tried to help him but nothing seemed to work. He started to..."
"Oh Colin," Jones said. "What did he do?"
Colin shook his head, impatiently wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm so scared," he said. "And I'm so alone right now, I've left everyone behind. I keep wondering if this is worth it. I don't want to lose the people I love. If I could just - learn how to help him better. He's a good person, Leanne. I don't want to give up on him just because he's gained a bit of a temper."
"So what, you're going to allow him to hurt you however he feels like just because he's usually a good person?"
"He's hurting, he just needs some understanding and love -"
Jones cut him off. "Are you hearing yourself right now? You think he's entitled to yell at you, push you around, hurt you in whatever manner he wants to, just because he's struggling? Who the bloody fuck am I talking to right now? Because you are not the Colin I once knew, not even close."
Colin stared at her, shock and anger and hurt written all over his face. He turned and walked away. Jones stood there for a moment, looking after him, then followed. She caught up to him around the corner. Colin was curled up on the grass, his face covered by his hands, shaking violently. Jones lay down next to him and held him close, and Colin sobbed into her arms.
Draco felt numb as he listened to Colin, and he looked away from his Gryffindor's tear-stained face to watch Potter instead. Potter was looking at the memory with a gob smacked expression, like he couldn't believe his ears. He kept shaking his head, as though to try to wake up. Draco frowned. He'd wondered if the man wasn't well, that day he'd run into him at the Phoenix restaurant, and clearly his hunch had been the right one.
As Jones' memory disappeared, Draco cast his eyes around the courtroom. Not many people were dry-eyed; several people blew their noses loudly. He tightened his grip on his wife's hand, and she responded by briefly leaning her head against his shoulder.
There was a long tense silence broken only by the rustle of people shifting and a few whispers. Then Draco heard "Does any member have questions for this witness", and he looked up - the question had been asked by Daphne Greengrass, and noticed that Andromeda appeared to be pressing her lips together in an attempt to control herself as she gazed at Potter, who didn't seem to notice; his eyes kept darting back to Jones as though checking to see she was real.
Another long silence. After what seemed like ages, the Chief Warlock spoke. "Will the next witness please take the chair."
Hermione Granger briskly strode to the chair. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she held her head up, a twitch of her shoulders the only indication she heard Potter's voice as he whispered her name as she sat down. Draco didn't know Granger, hadn't spoken to her since their school days, but even he could plainly tell that the memories she chose were loaded with her own guilt, and with her attempt to aid Potter's case the best she could, even though her testimony was plenty damning. She shared glimpses into Potter's life, of his good deeds and times full of laughter, as though she was trying to show what a wonderful man he was, trying to soften the blow when her memories got dark. It seemed to have the opposite effect she must have wanted, for the cheerful loving memories seemed to fade into the background as the ugly side of Potter's personality was displayed.
Granger and Weasley talked to Potter, surrounded by odd objects in an odd house, and Potter refused to listen to their pleas...
Granger tried again to talk to Potter, but he changed the subject, and she chose not to push, her expression exasperated...
Now Colin sat across from Granger, and he was asking for help...
Potter pleaded with Granger to talk to Colin, asking her to help bring him home - "I don't know why he left, we're happy, there was no reason for him to go, please help me..."
Granger showed up at Potter's house, a mind healer in tow, and Potter lashed out in anger, sending the poor woman running, and Granger watched her go, a helpless expression on her face...
Now Granger was talking to Potter, and her concern was unmistakable as he shut her out with words that were designed to wound...
Draco listened as if from far away as Granger was asked a few questions about her testimony by a member whose last name was Abbott. He saw Astoria look at him with concern out of the corner of his eye. "Are you okay?" she asked in a low voice, and he shook his head. "We'll be okay," she whispered in his ear. "We'll be okay." And he knew she was talking to herself as much as to him, could hear her emotions, feel the way her hand gripped his tightly.
When the next witness was called, Dennis Creevey stood up slowly. His body language screamed I don't want to be here and I'm hurting, and Draco had an odd mix of sympathy and disgust but didn't dwell on it. Colin's brother had chosen his memories with care too, Draco could tell. He showed Colin, a curious and inquisitive mind, a kind man, a good brother - he did not show Potter in these memories, as though he wanted to give the spotlight to Colin, and his love shone through in painful truth. The last memory was Dennis receiving a letter from Colin.
An owl landed on the windowsill of a tiny apartment. The Eiffel Tower could be seen off in the distance. "Who's that from, Dennis?" A man sat down on a beanbag across from him, a wine glass in his hand.
"It's from my brother, and careful with that, don't spill any on the carpet."
"Read it out loud," the man said excitedly. "I like hearing about what life is like where you're from."
"Settle down Karl, don't I always?"
"Just checking."
Dennis cleared his throat.
"I hope this letter finds you well. Have you perfected your chocolate roses yet? I'm not sure how you've managed to lose weight while surrounded by so much deliciousness, I think I'll gain weight once you come home and start having me try all the things you learned to make. Have you learned about pasta yet? I'm still waiting for an answer on how they manage to make pasta that is coloured black, you know.
I'm not sure how to word this next bit, Dennis. I'm not even sure what I'm hoping you'll say. But I need to ask for some advice. I've been trying to figure this out on my own, but I realized recently that I may be in over my head, here. Harry has been struggling for awhile, and he's been acting differently. His moods shift constantly and I never know which Harry I'm coming home to, the kind loving one or the angry short tempered one. The latter one scares me. He's - not himself in those times, but he doesn't seem to see this. He doesn't feel like he needs help. I hesitate to tell you some of the things he's said to me, some of the things he's - done. I could really use your advice. I've been thinking I could take a few days, come visit?
Hope to hear from you soon.
Colin."
"He sounds troubled," Karl commented."You'd best write to him right away."
Dennis agreed and picked up a spare piece of parchment on the table next to his chair...
As the memory faded into nothingness, Draco watched Dennis Creevey struggle to keep his composure. He looked away.
"Does any member have questions for this witness?"
Pansy Parkinson spoke, her tone brisk. "Am I correct in thinking that he didn't respond to your letter? What did you do, when you didn't hear from him?"
"That is correct. I floo-called a friend he worked with at the Wizarding World Weekly. She said he'd asked for some time off from his job, but didn't know where he'd gone. I tried to get in touch with - with Harry but was unsuccessful. I owled Hermione Granger, finally, who told me that Colin had left Harry but she didn't know where he had gone. I figured that he'd come visit me eventually, but that he needed some time to himself first. He always did prefer to work things out on his own. But he always asked for help when he was ready."
There were no further questions, and Draco watched the man walk away from the chair. As Dennis came closer, he heard a low voice call Dennis' name, and saw Jane Jones had stood up, her hand extended out. There was a moment of indecision, and then Dennis Creevey walked over to the woman and tentatively reached to take her hand. Astoria nudged Draco discreetly, and she followed him as he scooted over to make some room so that the two of them could sit together. Draco couldn't bear the look of wonder and hope he saw in both of their eyes as they gazed at each other. It made him want to throw things, made him want to rage - but most of all, he wanted to curl up and sob, the way Colin had done in Jones' memory.
"The next witness may take the chair."
The older woman who had sat down next to Draco at the start of the trial now stood up. She confidently walked to the chair, and her heels clicked on the stone floor in the centre of the room. Draco saw Potter shift uncomfortably in his seat. He was visibly shaking.
"Please state your full name."
"Liza Marie Smyth."
"What is your job title?"
I'm a Supervising Mind Healer for the Auror Department."
"How do you know the accused?"
"The department requires all Aurors receive routine Mind Healing care. I was assigned Harry Potter."
"You may proceed with your testimony."
Draco paid close attention to Liza's memories. He was morbidly curious at the chance to know what had been going through Potter's head. The person he remembered as a schoolboy was not someone he would have pictured ending up like this. Certainly if anyone had asked Draco in sixth year, he'd have bet a thousand Galleons that he would have ended up the murderer, not Potter. How had this happened? How had they ended up here?
Liza knew how to tell a story, that much was certain. She had arranged the memories in such a way that showed the progression of Potter's fall from grace, the slide from Saviour to Fallen Angel. Potter's routine visits showed a strong man with past baggage. Liza prodded Potter gently but bluntly into admitting past abuse from relatives growing up, his perception of the wizarding world's expectations and the battle with coming to terms with how he envisioned his life and what others told him he should want, and his guilt over how many people had died during the war. Listening to Potter's words, Draco could begin to understand the man and he hated himself for it, hated that he understood perfectly the fight of finding one's way in a world that felt so cold and empty. As the memories progressed, Potter started to spiral into a strange train of thought.
"Maybe if I can find this man, maybe he can explain how to rid myself of these thoughts. He uses the term demon, but it's all the same, isn't it?"
"Harry, I don't think the man in the diary means demon in a metaphorical sense. From what you've showed me, he sounds like he means literal demons - as though they are real."
"They are, aren't they? Magic is real, for crying out loud."
"Yes Harry, but muggles don't know that. And there is every indication that this man is a muggle. His language gives us clues. As an Auror, you are trained to look for those clues."
"What does it matter if he means metaphorical or literal demons?"
"As a professional Mind Healer, do you want my opinion?"
Potter nodded eagerly. "I do."
"This man seems to be suffering extreme abuse. The intense emotions he experiences as a result of such treatment is causing him to seek explanations that are not based in his reality, so that he can maintain some semblance of sanity. It appears he is attempting to blame his version of demons, rather than accept that his Mother is the very real human who is hurting him. Given his profession, he has ample opportunity to find these "demons"; it doesn't sound like he is of sound mind to be working in such a position of authority."
Potter was silent as he took in his words. Liza was silent as well as she cautiously watched his reaction.
"You could be right," he said at last. "but isn't someone who understands the pain of the world the exact right person to be in a position of authority?"
"Harry," Liza said quietly. "Why do you think you are so interested in this man's mind?"
"I'm an Auror. I like puzzles, I like solving them." Potter's arms folded in front of his chest.
"I think you see yourself in this man. I think you need to know how this man's story ends. I think you are looking for answers for your own life."
Potter's hands clenched into the sofa he sat on. "You're wrong," he bit out.
"Am I?" Liza sounded calm. "A man who suffered abuse from a parental figure. A journey into explanations not based in the reality he grew up in. A cat and mouse game with a man bent on destroying him. A man who became the muggle equivalent of an Auror. Does any of this sound familiar, Harry?"
Potter was shaking. "Just because I identify with him doesn't mean I'm a monster."
"I didn't say it did. Why do you think you're a monster?"
Potter rocked back and forth. Liza watched carefully. "Why do you think you're a monster, Harry?"
"They told me I was a freak," Potter finally threw out. "They told me I was a freak. And then I learned that I wasn't a freak, except I was, because even in the wizarding world I was different. I was this - celebrity - before I even knew it. I spoke parceltongue. I was visibly marked as Voldemort's enemy, even before I knew his name. I was - different. And because of me, people died. All these people died. I'm a monster, of course I'm a monster. People died because of me. Because I was born."
"They died because they chose to put themselves in harm's way for a cause they believed in, not because of you," Liza said."You give yourself too much credit. You are not responsible for everyone else's thoughts or actions."
Potter shook his head disbelievingly...
Draco looked over at Potter. He was sweating, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was staring daggers at Liza. She didn't seem to notice. Draco could remember days when Potter had looked at him that way, as though he were an ant in need of stepping on, and a wave of fear washed over him. He'd told Weasley he'd testify. Could he really do it? Could he really sit there and feel Potter's hatred, as though not a single day had passed since the days of their school rivalry?
The door burst open. Liza saw Potter standing in the entryway. His eyes were wide. "Colin left," he said.
"Come in, sit down," Liza said. "Why did he leave?"
Potter didn't sit down, but began to pace back and forth. "I don't know. He left a letter. He said that he felt we needed some time apart and that he'd be in touch when he knew what he wanted."
"Have you two been having problems?"
"No - yes - maybe?"
Liza looked at him silently. Potter wouldn't meet her eyes as he paced. "Maybe things have been a little rough lately."
"People rarely leave without a reason. Was there something he said, perhaps, that gave you a clue as to his thoughts? Let your mind think back to your recent times together."
Potter stopped pacing. His eyes closed. "Think back, Harry. What do you remember?"
"I remember - " Potter stopped abruptly.
"Yes?" Liza prompted when he didn't continue.
"Nothing," Potter said quickly. "Sorry for showing up without an appointment." He turned and walked out, Liza's "wait!" left behind in the dust.
Other memories showed, but Draco only half listened as Potter ranted about Colin and meddling friends. He thought he now understood what Colin had once told him, years ago. He's not a hero, the way that they are portrayed in books and movies...he's real, he's human...just as we all are. The man in front of him now, the man in these memories - he was not a hero. He never had been a hero. He was just a man struggling with his inner demons. And Draco knew what that was like all too well.
The door opened and Potter walked in. Liza seemed to be expecting him this time, for she smiled and gestured to the sofa. Potter sat down.
"I think I know why Colin left."
Liza sipped her tea, regarding him with a curious look. "Yes?"
"I keep having these - flashbacks. Of the war. It's like I can see curses flying through the air, smell the fear and the death all around. I had one recently. I think I scared him with it. How do I get rid of them?"
"Do you want to get rid of them?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course I want to get rid of them!" Potter said, his voice raised.
"Do you really."
Potter looked away. He didn't answer.
"I think you hate the way you love the pain you're going through," Liza said calmly. "I think you've lived your whole life in a fight, one battle after another, and you don't know who you are without an enemy to fight. I think that scares you. I think it's easier for you to stay in the fight, then to learn who you are and how to get along without the constant conflict."
Potter shook his head, and rocked back and forth, and didn't answer...
When at long last Liza's memories finished, Draco found himself clutching Astoria's hand harder than he realized. He lessened the pressure, and Astoria mouthed it's okay at him as he looked apologetically at her. The Wizengamot had multiple questions for Liza, several members each rapidly firing questions at her, and Draco was impressed at her cool composure as the Mind Healer answered every query professionally. If anyone had any doubts as to Potter's guilt, Draco couldn't imagine that they possibly could now; by the time Liza finished speaking, it was clear the minds of many in the audience had been made up. This had been why they had a public hearing, Draco realized. Reading about the crime in a wizarding publication wasn't as personal. Hearing the words, seeing the memories in person - it made for a compelling case, something that any reporter, no matter how good, wouldn't be able to replicate.
"The next witness may now take the chair."
A woman with strawberry-coloured hair stood up. He could see she was nervous, and there was something about her - she wasn't really walking, but rather almost dancing as she moved, and Draco was almost certain that this woman had been a performer in her younger years.
"Please state your full name."
"Faye Lila Boot."
Draco's heart stuttered in his chest and there was a roaring in his ears. I'm next, he thought. Fear filled him, and only the start of Faye Boot's memories lessened the pull of the weight of nerves that were now firmly settled into his bones.
Faye lightly tapped her way along a bland hospital corridor. Most doors were closed, but a few were ajar. She could hear conversations happening in some of the rooms, parents and children and lovers conversing, and sometimes she'd pause to hear what people were saying. She turned down another hallway, and found her interest caught as she overheard one man's ranting through the partly open door.
"I don't know what came over me, Bill. I don't remember much. I think I yelled at him, this time. It's not the first time that I've lost control, either. Colin has the patience of a saint, I swear. I don't deserve him."
Faye peeked through the door. There was a man sitting on the bed, unmoving. Potter was pacing back and forth, his arms gesturing wildly as he talked. "I wish he'd do as I say, though. I think he's still giving that brat lessons. I don't want him near anyone who could hurt him. That Father of his - bad blood, Bill. Bad blood." Potter stopped pacing, sat down. "Last time Colin tried to talk to me about it I got so angry. I don't quite know what happened after. I think I lost control again. Did I hit him? I think I might have. Sometimes I lie awake at night and think of all the ways I could make Colin stop. He's hurting me by not stopping. Do you understand that? I think you might."
Faye heard footsteps and looked around. Someone was coming. She stepped away from the door and moved back along the corridor...
Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing from Potter's own mouth. It was one thing to hear from others, but to hear Potter talk about hurting Colin so casually...and he was fairly certain that Potter had been talking about Scorpius - how dare he!
Faye did not have many memories - or perhaps time had sped up, Draco wasn't sure - but it wasn't long before she was finished. Draco waited, his stomach twisting with nerves, and he could swear Andromeda Tonks was looking right at him as she called for the next witness.
Draco stood up. He looked at Astoria as he let go of her hand, and she looked back at him with a proud expression on her face, and in that moment he knew that she had known he'd been asked to testify. The walk to the chair was mercifully short, or perhaps time had again decided to move faster, for it seemed barely a second had gone by between the time he stood up and the time he sat down, the chair glowing gold beneath him, and he'd somehow expected the sensation to be warm, but it was lukewarm at best. He looked up at the Wizengamot, his head held high, and caught a brief glance of Potter's face as he did so: He looked so completely and utterly stunned, and Draco allowed himself a flash of smugness.
"Please state your full name."
"Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"How do you know the accused?"
"We were classmates at Hogwarts."
"How do you know the deceased?"
"He was in the year below me at Hogwarts. We became friends, my sixth year." Draco could hear the low murmurs of the crowd, and out of the corner of his eye saw Potter stand up, and he looked over at him.
"That's a lie," Potter said, his voice low in fury.
"I assure you, it's not," Draco said with a calm he did not feel. Potter seemed ready to reply, but the man next to Potter pulled his arm, his lips moving but voice too low for the words to carry.
"It's not a lie," Luna Lovegood spoke up. "That chair can't compel people to tell the truth, but neither can people lie while sitting on it. Didn't anyone else read the paper Hermione Granger wrote about how her spell works?"
From the looks on most of the Wizengamot's faces, it was clear that they hadn't, and Draco wanted to laugh. He may not care much for the witch, but he had to admit she had perfect comedic timing.
"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," Andromeda said dryly. "Mr. Malfoy, in what capacity will you be giving us testimony today?"
"If I may, Chief Warlock, I'd rather my memories speak for themselves," he said respectfully.
Andromeda looked at him, and he could sense her curiosity and quiet disbelief, but at last she gave a curt nod. "You may proceed with your testimony."
Draco saw the spell that Lee Jordan sent his way, and was surprised at the warmth he felt, and for a moment he thought of Astoria hitting him with a warming charm, but then he could see the gold threads above him twisting into shapes and his own memory materialized. He'd thought about what memories he could show, even when he'd thought he wouldn't testify, and had run through so many of them in his mind - but most, he knew, were not relevant, simply his desire to show people how mean Potter could be, even as a child. Truthfully, he knew there were only two memories he could share. And only one of them would be relatively easy to share.
The door to the restroom at the Phoenix restaurant came into view. Draco watched himself open the door, watched Potter's odd little chant, watched as their confrontation showed above the courtroom floor, and he felt a jolt of irony as he heard himself tell Potter they're called memories - how fitting that he would be sharing this memory now.
As the notes of their altercation disappeared, the second memory began to display. Draco watched as Colin came into sight, watched as their conversation at the bank unfolded, and wanted to shut his eyes at his own callousness, his pride, his disregard for Colin's plea for help, but he forced himself to take in every detail of Colin's face. He could see now, what a struggle it had been for Colin to come to him, how difficult it had been for Colin to ask him for assistance, and shame filled him anew.
The threads of the memory shimmered as they vanished, and silence filled the courtroom. Draco felt exposed, vulnerable, and very much alone as he waited for someone to speak.
"Mr. Malfoy, I commend you for your bravery. It took guts to share such memories, given that they don't show you in a positive light. Why did you decide to testify today?" Andromeda regarded him with the same curious expression.
"I owed him. I - regret that I didn't repay him when I had the chance." Draco's voice cracked on the last word.
Andromeda accepted his answer without further comment. "Does any member have questions for this witness?"
Draco saw Daphne Greengrass lean forward and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning aloud. The other members might have let him get away with no further explanation, but since Astoria was her sister, Daphne wouldn't give him that luxury. "Mr. Malfoy, you commented earlier that you had become friends with the deceased in your sixth year. Given your testimony, it seems we're missing a piece of the puzzle here. What exactly was your relationship with Colin Creevey?"
Draco's breath caught. He could hear Potter's loudly muttered "What the bloody hell is he playing at, lying like that," and the sound of someone shushing him, but he didn't even so much as glance at Potter as he looked into Daphne's irritated face, and knew the consequences of testifying today would reach far beyond what he'd considered. But this was for Colin, and he wouldn't take it back even if he could. Might as well see if he could shock Potter; it seemed as though Colin had never told Potter about Draco. He'd wondered about that, but hadn't the courage to ask.
"Our friendship progressed into something more...romantic," he heard himself say out loud, and was surprised that he wasn't yet panicking. Perhaps that would come later. "We were - together - for a few months."
Gasps of - shock? surprise? anger? - filled the courtroom, but Potter's was the loudest. "How dare you defile his memory this way!" he shouted. "You liar!"
"I'm not lying," Draco threw back at him, but then he felt the warmth of a spell hit him and he looked back at the Wizengamot in alarm. Daphne Greengrass smugly waved at him from above, and he felt a surge of dread as he realized what she'd done. He saw the gold thread shoot up, saw the memory take form, and stared above as flashes of private moments were outed in front of the entire crowd.
Colin was stirring a mixture in a cauldron, and laughing at something Draco had said, his eyes alight in that way that Draco had become so fond of.
Colin held Draco in his arms before pulling away just slightly, and they stared at each other for a long moment before Draco leaned forward, his lips latching onto Colin's softly.
Colin was holding him as they lay on Draco's bed, his voice quietly singing a lullaby.
Colin was laughing as Draco tickled him. They were in Draco's bathroom at the Manor, and they each had wet hair and a towel tucked around their waist.
Colin held Draco while he cried.
Draco brushed his teeth while Colin showered. Colin popped his head out from the curtain. "I know we're not talking about it, but if you want - ?" He left the sentence hanging, and Draco didn't answer, but he pulled his shirt over his head. Colin smiled in relief.
Draco landed the broom in a small field. Colin laughed, his hands reaching for the sky. "That's a high like no other!" Draco looked at him mischievously. "I know another kind of high." Colin smiled and dropped to his knees.
"That's ENOUGH."
Draco's memories disappeared. The Chief Warlock was on her feet, her wand out. "Daphne Greengrass, this is unacceptable behaviour! Report to my office tomorrow at nine am." She looked over at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize on behalf of the entire Wizengamot for this inexcusable display of unprofessional behaviour."
Draco blinked, stunned. Watching his memories like that - everything he'd been trying not to think about, everything he'd pushed away...to see it so plainly like that... "I loved him," he said to himself, surprised. "I loved him."
"You didn't fucking love him!" Harry shrieked, his eyes wide. "I fucking loved him!"
"Mr. Roland, please keep the accused quiet," the Chief Warlock said sternly, but Draco didn't hear if Mr. Roland had replied. He watched as if in slow motion as Potter shook off the arm that reached for him and practically sprinted for Draco, and Draco was frozen in place, still shocked from his recent revelation.
"Protago!" Draco recognized Astoria's voice, and Harry Potter collided with the shield charm as he tried to reach Draco on the other side. He was quite out of control, banging his fists into empty air as he struggled to hit his target, and screaming at the top of his lungs. Draco's blood was hammering in his ears, and he found himself unable to focus on the words being thrown at him like poison; instead his focus was on Astoria, who still stood, her wand out, chest heaving with emotion, and she had this fierce look in her eye Draco couldn't interpret.
"SILENCE," a voice shouted, and a spell flew outward, quieting the entire courtroom. The stillness was jarring, and Draco's whole body jerked with the force of it.
"Now seems like an appropriate time to take a break for lunch," Andromeda Tonks said quite firmly. "When we come back, Mr. Roland, you will have a firm hold on the accused. Mr. Malfoy, I apologize again for the unprofessional behaviour you have suffered today. Thank you for your testimony. We will resume with the next witness at 1:30 this afternoon."
The Wizengamot began to file out of the room. The crowd around him burst into conversation. Potter was dragged away by Mr. Roland. Draco sat, utterly staggered by the events that had transpired, and didn't move until he felt someone step in front of him. Draco looked up. Astoria held out her hand. He took it, allowed her to lead him out of the room. "Where are we going?" he asked her.
"Lunch," she simply said.
She took him to a food truck not far from the Ministry. They sat on the edge of the sidewalk and ate corned beef empanadas in silence. Draco's brain whirled and he tried to suppress the emotions welling up inside. Now wasn't the time to dwell on them. He had to walk back in that courtroom, and he didn't think he could do it if he let himself think about what had just happened. So he ate his empanada, and watched the passersby on the street, and felt chilled even though they'd cast warming charms against the brisk November air. Once, he glanced at Astoria; she was eating slowly, her movements robotic, and he could see that she wasn't really present.
They walked back to the Ministry. "I had planned to bring Scorpius with us for the lunch break," Astoria said after awhile. "But I didn't think I could keep him from seeing how - upset I am."
"They'll have fed him at the daycare," Draco reasoned. "He'll be fine."
"He's not fine," she snapped.
"I meant - "
"I know what you meant." Astoria sighed. "I'm sorry. All this has made me on edge."
"We'll be okay," Draco repeated her earlier words back to her. Astoria slipped her hand back into his.
Draco wished he could believe those words. The weight on his chest felt heavy as they walked back into Courtroom Ten, and he sat down again with apprehension thumping through his veins. He felt a cool breeze hit his face, and looked up: a couple of windows had been opened, and Draco was grateful for the air. The room had seemed stifling hot before, with so many bodies packed into the space. The Wizengamot filed into the room at exactly 1:30, and as before the conversations buzzing around him slowly petered out as the members sat down.
The Chief Warlock surveyed the courtroom, her eyes briefly holding Draco's before she moved on, and Draco wondered if perhaps the bridge that had burned between their families long ago hadn't been completely destroyed. He shook away the thought. Where had that even come from?
"Mr. Roland, are you ready to present the defence on behalf of the accused?"
The man sitting next to Potter responded quickly. "Yes."
"Would the first witness for the Defence please take the chair."
From the moment Ginny Weasley's memories started, Draco understood implicitly that Roland was not even attempting to fight the accusation against Potter, that the evidence was too great to surmount, that perhaps Potter believed his own innocence, but Roland did not and knew that few, if any, would be able to watch the hearing and leave thinking Potter was blameless. The girl Weasley's memories focused on Potter's kindness through the years, his good deeds, his ability to love even as they broke up, and her recollections of seeing Potter fall in love with Colin.
"Does any member have questions for this witness?"
Traona Shafiq, a young woman sitting in the very back row of the bench, spoke almost immediately. "Ms. Weasley, to clarify a point - the accused appears to love you a great deal in your memories, even throughout your split. Did he ever display any sort of negative emotion, such as anger, as you parted ways?"
"He was angry and hurt, yes." Weasley replied. "But he never took it out on me, if that's what you're asking. It took him some time to accept that we made good friends but were not suited to be romantic partners."
"Because he prefers men?" Shafiq asked bluntly.
The girl Weasley shook her head. "No, because we wanted different things out of life. As far as I am aware, Harry has never cared one way or another about the gender of his partners. Harry just - did not want the life I did, and while we loved each other, that wasn't enough to make our incompatibilities disappear."
Draco shifted in his seat. Something about the way she had worded that struck an nerve, but now wasn't the time to examine it. He took a deep breath and let it out as he attempted to clear his mind. The next witness was called. He didn't pay much attention to Molly Weasley's memories, they were fairly similar to Ginny Weasley's in that they focused on good memories of Potter. A few seemed to show an undercurrent of darkness, as Mrs. Weasley noticed Potter seemed to be struggling with something that he wouldn't talk about, but nothing shocking, given the testimony from earlier this morning.
The next witness was Ron Weasley, and Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The reason why Roland had wanted him to testify again became clear as Weasley's memories showed: Roland was hoping to keep Potter from Azkaban by claiming he was not of sound mind. Which was a stroke of genius, in Draco's opinion. There wasn't much room for any other argument to be made.
Ron Weasley entered a small room. Potter was sitting on the bed, the only furniture in the sparsely supplied space. "Why am I here," Potter demanded at once.
"You don't know?"
"Should I?" Potter countered. "I left Colin back at the house. He's probably awake now, wondering where I am. Did you owl him?"
"Harry - I went to the house myself. I saw Colin. What happened?"
"What do you mean?" Potter asked, upset. "Did something happen to Colin? Is he okay?"
"He's not okay. He's dead, Harry."
"No, he's not. I left him at the house, he was sleeping! He was just fine."
"Harry."
"Why are you saying this? Why would you say that? Let me go, please let me go, I've got to find him, he's waiting for me!" And Potter was up on his feet now, his fists pounding at the door...
Draco saw that Potter was giving Roland an expression of deep loathing as another memory played, and he almost laughed. It looked like Potter didn't approve of Roland's attempt to save him from prison. He didn't say anything though, and Draco wondered what Roland had said to Potter to keep his mouth shut.
The next witness to sit in the chair was Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Head of the Auror Department, Shacklebolt was known for his soothing disposition and fairness, a reputation that had served him well for the months he'd served as the interim Minister for Magic after the war. Draco had respect for the man, even given his idiotic political views. Shacklebolt shared memories that showed Potter's work life, his dedication and willingness to do what needed to be done to finish a job, and how that same commitment to his work often caused Potter to make enemies of the law-breakers he caught. Draco understood the message clearly: Potter had already been struggling with his own inner demons, and a stressful work life only added to the load his mind carried.
Shacklebolt was questioned for several minutes by two members of the Wizengamot before the next witness was called. Draco couldn't quite tell the gender of the witness, and still hadn't figured it out by the time Desi Rainn's memories concluded. Desi had often been assigned as Potter's field partner, and they shared memories of stakeouts, enemies made, and times of laughter. The memory that stood out to Draco the most was one of the first ones shared.
"I brought donuts!" Desi entered what looked like a beat up old van on the outside, but inside looked like a cosy flat, complete with a separate room for the loo - the door was ajar, and a small toilet was visible with a fluffy orange rug at the base.
"Oh thank god," Potter moaned. "Please tell me you brought the post too."
"You're whipped, mate. Utterly whipped."
"Shut up Des," Potter said with humour as he swiped the offered letter. "I should be the one to go to headquarters next time, so I don't have to deal with your teasing over my owl post."
"You've had what - two dates with your bloke? You never shut up about him. We should be focusing on the case, not how good Colin Creevey's arse looks in tight jeans - "
"Really, shut up," Potter said, laughing. "Tell me what the news is from headquarters."
Draco kept thinking about that memory, long after Desi had moved on to other recollections. He was still thinking about it when the next witness was called, but when Harry Potter stood up, he snapped back to attention, every nerve in his body coiled tight. What could Potter have to say for himself? All the evidence heard today pointed towards his guilt, he had to know that. What could Potter possibly share that would alleviate in any way the sentence he surely knew was coming?
Potter's first memories were of the early days of his romance with Colin. Dates filled with laughter and shy smiles and kisses filled with wonder. Potter's love shone through clearly, and Draco hated the way his stomach clenched with a raw emotion he hadn't known he was still capable of feeling. Another memory started, and Draco forced a deep breath through his lungs.
Something was strange about the quality of the memory as it played. Draco glanced around, confused: Was this normal? He caught a glimpse of Hermione Granger's face and knew that whatever was happening now was not typical behaviour for the spell she had created. The picture was fuzzy, the actions of the people slow, and Draco leaned over to whisper in Astoria's ear. "What's happening? Do you know what this means?"
She shook her head. "This isn't normal. Even memories that have been tampered with don't act like this. I'm not sure what this is."
Draco noticed the members of the Wizengamot were confused too, judging by their expressions and a few people leaning across rows to talk to one another. They allowed Potter to keep going, however. The memory of Colin and Potter disagreeing over the best flavour tea ended slowly, and Draco noticed that Potter wasn't watching. His eyes were closed, his hands gripping the sides of the chair like it was a lifeline.
Potter watched Colin sleep from the doorway. He looked at his love fondly for a long moment before spelling the curtains closed and closing the door. He wrote a note - gone for a walk, back soon - before walking away...
Draco grew even more troubled. Was something wrong with Potter perhaps? That last memory had seemed to have an almost dream-like quality to it, and kept stopping and starting. He looked up at the Wizengamot. The Chief Warlock was frowning.
Another memory began to emerge. Draco recognized the setting almost at once: Potter was standing on a bridge. He turned his head and there was Colin. His lips moved, but no sound issued from his mouth: The memory stopped for a moment, frozen, and Draco frowned up at it. What was going on?
"Oh god," someone said quietly, and Draco looked over to see Hermione Granger staring at Potter. In the total silence of the courtroom, he could hear Weasley asking what was wrong, but Granger shook her head, tears in her eyes. Draco glanced at Astoria, intending to ask again what was happening, but an odd sound, like wings flapping, startled him and he turned. He wasn't the only one: Most of the crowd seemed to have heard the same thing, and hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the movements of a large brown Barn Owl as it swooped through an open window and came to land lightly on Potter's arm, the large package it had been holding landing in Potter's lap. Potter's eyes opened, astonished, and he tilted his head to gaze at the long package sitting across his legs.
"Accio!" a member of the Wizengamot called, and the package flew over to someone whose name Draco didn't know. "Open it," Andromeda told him, and he complied immediately. A sleek, shiny racing broom was unveiled, and several people cried out enviously. Draco instantly recognized the latest model of the Firebolt broom. "There's a note with it," someone said, and Andromeda held out her hand. The letter was quickly given to her, and she read it silently.
"What's it say?" someone called out. "Who gave him that broom?"
The Chief Warlock looked over at Potter. He was looking hungrily at the broom, curiosity shining in his expression. "Settle down, please. Given the unusual situation we find ourselves in, and who this package is from, I'm inclined to read this aloud."
The courtroom was quiet, as though every member of the audience was holding their breath, and Andromeda surveyed the crowd, her sharp gaze coming at last to rest on Potter, and there was a long pause before she turned her eyes back to the parchment.
"My love, you may not know it, but today is a special day. Today is the anniversary of the day I knew I had fallen in love with you. Do you remember that day I taught you how to drive the motorbike you'd fixed up? Do you remember how we drove for hours, and stopped outside a tiny town with a hotel with no running water, and how we slept on the floor because we were afraid of bedbugs, and in the morning you woke up with your hair even more messy than normal and I laughed and kissed you and you asked me why I was laughing? I looked at you then, do you remember? I looked at you and I knew you were my home, that no matter what happened, you would forever be imprinted on my heart, and I knew I loved you without a shadow of a doubt. This is my gift to you for this special day. I know you'll use it well. All my love, Colin."
There was half a heartbeat of silence before Potter started to cry, and the sight and sound was so disconcerting it wasn't until Astoria nudged him that Draco noticed that a memory had started to form above them. Draco watched as the scene on the bridge unfolded, and his heart broke to see the love in Colin's eyes, to see as he fought to keep Potter from acting out his idiotic suicide plan, to hear the words and see Colin kiss Potter...and there were shocked cries all around him as Potter's arms held Colin close, cutting off his air supply, and Draco didn't want to watch, couldn't take it, but horror held him in place, and Colin couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, and Potter didn't notice, and his arms held Colin tightly, so tightly, around his neck...
And then Potter was gently settling Colin into bed, and his eyes were open, and Potter laughed manically. "You can't sleep with your eyes open, love." He swept his hand over Colin's beautiful brown eyes, and when his hand moved away Colin truly did look to be sleeping. Potter watched him before closing the curtains and shutting the door behind him...
The memory vanished, but the images were burned into Draco's brain. He could hear Astoria quietly sobbing, her hands over her mouth, and she wasn't the only one. Half the Wizengamot was in tears, the other half seemed frozen in their chairs. Potter was still crying where he sat, but words tore out of him at random intervals, half formed sentences of bewildered shock and pain. "No...no...I didn't...my love...no..."
Several minutes passed before the Chief Warlock spoke, her voice thick and unnaturally loud with the use of a projecting spell. "Silence, please. Silence."
The crowd obeyed, but Potter didn't appear to hear her. Roland was attempting to talk to him, but Potter wasn't paying any attention, his sobs loud in the otherwise quiet room.
"We will adjourn for the day," Andromeda said. "Sentencing will be held tomorrow at 3:00 in the afternoon." As one, the Wizengamot stood up, and Draco watched them go, Potter's broken voice still present. Astoria tugged his hand. "Please, " she almost begged, and Draco understood. He let her tug him from the room. He followed her to the lobby before he remembered something. "Astoria, sweetheart, we've forgotten Scorpius."
"I haven't forgotten," she said, her voice brittle. "Just give me - just give me a minute."
She tugged him into a one stall family bathroom, and as the door closed with a thud she disintegrated, her legs sinking to the floor, and Draco caught her and pulled her close. She sobbed in his arms, and Draco held in his emotions as tightly as he held her, and he stared at the wall. They were coloured just a light tinge of brown, and they reminded him of Colin's eyes. Those brown eyes that had looked at him with laughter, with exasperation, with fear, with sadness, with...love. Those eyes were no longer, those eyes would never look at him again, and in that moment Draco would have given anything to see those eyes again, even if they looked at him with hate, because if those eyes were alive Astoria wouldn't hurt like this, he wouldn't hurt like this, and Scorpius wouldn't hurt like this...
Astoria sniffled herself into silence long minutes later. She stood up, disentangling herself from his arms. She straightened her robes, wiped her eyes. She held out her hand. "Scorpius?" she asked.
Draco took her hand, allowed her to pull him up. "Scorpius," he agreed.
They walked out of the bathroom together, hand in hand.