Chapter beginning notes:
Okay - mea culpa. I thought Blaise was mentioned for the first time in Book 5, and then fleshed out more in Book 6. This aligned really well with the plot I constructed - Kingsley returns to England when Voldemort returns to work domestically as an Auror, and the Zabinis do as well, so Yasmine can infiltrate pure blood society. Upon doing some research I discovered that Blaise actually is mentioned for the first time in Book 1 when he's sorted, and then there's no mention of him ever again until Book 6.
I tried to make it work so that my story could align with canon but it was too late.
So! For the purposes of FWWL, Blaise Zabini came to Hogwarts in Book 5 from Italy. His last name is Zabini because that's the latest husband Yasmine killed for profit.
Also! If you are reading in 1.5-2 hour reading blocks, it is suggested that this be your next stopping point to eat/sleep/breathe/go to work :). Chapters 75 and on you can just go to the end.
Onward! You guys don't care about any of this anyway because Hermione has a few things to say to Kingsley. ;)
Chapter 74
Crack!
Hermione whirled around to see Draco appear six feet away in the forest clearing. His blond hair was a mess, and there was a few days' scruff covering his jaw. Lip quivering, she sucked in a breath as his bright eyes immediately focused on her.
"You're okay." His voice cracked over the words.
She lurched forward and quickly closed the gap between them. Tears streaming down her face, she threw herself into his arms.
"Draco, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, uncaring that she was wetting his shirt. He held her tight against his chest, and cradled the back of her head.
Limbs shaking, he squeezed her into his body. Hermione's muscles and joints still hurt and the pressure from his arms made it worse. But she didn't care, and hugged him tighter as he pressed his cheek atop her head. They held each other in anguished relief, listening to the birds chirping around them. His shoulders heaved once, twice and then a third time as he released a guttural cry. She sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut, trembling as she wept. After a few moments, he sucked in a shuddering breath and she felt a cold trail on her scalp from his tears.
"I'm so sorry," she croaked, fisting the fabric at his lower back. "I betrayed you in the worst way. I knew–" she choked on another sob, "I knew you wanted to be free. And I used that against you. I knew what it was costing you. It's–it's–" she broke down crying again, unable to get anymore words out.
"You're alive." His throat sounded raw, and he pressed several closed mouthed kisses on the top of her head. "That's the only thing that matters."
She gazed up at him, resting her chin on his chest. Draco's eyes were glassy and bloodshot from crying. "I knew I had to tell you. I didn't want you to find out when this all ends. But I didn't know when, and I thought I could fix everything first."
"I know," he said with a sigh, and cupped her cheek. "I understand why you did it."
Hermione slid her hands up his back, and dug her fingers into the fabric again. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Draco," she couldn't stop trembling. "I didn't want to."
"You did what you had to do to win, I might have done the same." Draco rubbed her cheek with his thumb, wiping her tears away.
She shook her head and smiled sadly. "You wouldn't have."
The corner of his mouth lifted upwards. "You sound so sure."
"Of this I am."
Draco pressed his fingers into her side and she grimaced. Abruptly he loosened his grip on her. His gaze roamed her face in concern and he asked, "Are you still in pain?"
Hermione sniffed, and wiped some of the tears off his cheek with her sleeve. "It's getting better every day."
"I keep seeing memories of you like..." His eyes were haunted as se stared at her, agonized and stroking her hair, searching for something. "I can't believe you survived."
"I wouldn't have if not for you." She swallowed, enjoying his caresses and the way his fingers tangled in her hair. Her entire body still hurt, but the pain was manageable. "Did you lose anyone?" His eyes snapped to hers. "In the blasts?"
His face fell. "Yeah."
"Pansy?" She furrowed her brows in concern. "Your... your father?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head but didn't elaborate.
She pulled his head down and he pressed his forehead against hers. Exhaling a quivering breath, he said, "Hermione," and opened his eyes.
"Mmm?"
"I want to end this. The longer it goes on, the worse it is."
Blotches of reds, yellows and oranges swirled around them as the wind picked up the fall leaves. The changing color reminded her of the start of the school year. Looking back, she couldn't believe all that had transpired over what should have been her seventh and final year. The time that should have been spent on NEWT preparation and job searches, had morphed into helping to lead an underground insurrection to overthrow Voldemort's regime.
And she had Draco Malfoy of all people by her side.
She'd never let him go.
Wiping the tears from her face one last time, she kissed a fresh tear making its way down his cheek. "Let's go."
ooooooooooooooooo
"Ready?"
Hermione glanced back at the diffracted panes of Draco's Disillusioned form. No one had noticed him walking behind Hermione as she led him through the maze of tents where the Order had regrouped. He squeezed her hand.
"Yeah."
She squeezed his fingers back in support. Draco sounded tired, almost defeated. But that was okay, she had enough rage for the both of them. Despite the aches and pains in her body, she was rearing for a fight, and patted the replicated photo in her back pocket.
Turning towards the tent, she pushed the flap aside and to see Tonks and Minerva sitting at the table where the senior Order leadership spent their days in recovery, planning the next move.
Kingsley hadn't arrived yet.
Their next move depended on Draco. They didn't know it yet, but he had them in the palm of his hand. And Hermione was going to squeeze until they relented.
At their entry, both women stood up and Hermione removed the Disillusionment Charm.
"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy." Standing eye to eye, Minerva studied him and extended her hand. "We are all deeply indebted to you. You saved us from certain destruction and, thanks to you, we still have a chance at liberating Wizarding England."
Draco glanced down at the offered hand and warily reached out to grasp it. Minerva brought her other hand atop his, gazing at him earnestly. "And you have my sincere gratitude for bringing Miss Granger back to us."
Hermione watched as he flicked his eyes down to their joined hands, leery of saying anything at all. But he gave a curt nod and shook her hand before releasing it. She didn't blame him for not trusting her teacher's sincerity. Hermione wondered if Minerva would still be singing the same tune if she heard Draco's crimes.
But it didn't matter. Kingsley would do as he was fucking told, regardless of how the Order voted.
Hermione shifted her gaze to Tonks. Her hair was black, and shoulder length. It had been that way since Hermione saw her in the infirmary. The gash across her face left a red scar, and the iris of the eye not covered by the patch was black, like Bellatrix's. Hermione wondered if it was because that was her chosen color of late, as with her hair, or if she too was affected by Unforgivable use. Hermione could sense Tonks' suppressed anger contained by the hard line of her mouth.
While recovering in the infirmary, she vaguely recalled Tonks telling Mary that she didn't have time to mourn Remus' death. Instead of breaking down, Tonks was ready to unleash her rage. Hermione glanced apprehensively at her, ready to defend Draco, but when Tonks spoke to him, she expressed nothing but pure gratitude.
"Cousin."
His eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Andromeda is my mother," Tonks clarified.
"Oh," Draco spoke for the first time. Slowly, he reached out to her extended hand, and shook it.
"There are several in the Black family that came to the right side of this war. You're not alone."
His eyes brightened and Hermione thought she saw the corner of his mouth rise. If she hadn't been so familiar with how expressive his eyes could be, she would have missed it.
"We'd all be dead without you," Tonks said, reiterating Minerva's sentiments. "Several times over. As would Hermione."
Hermione glanced back at Draco's face, but he returned to his impassive expression, revealing nothing. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of the appreciation proffered towards him, nor the acknowledgement of kinship, no matter how sincere.
"Have a seat, Draco," Tonks said, sinking into a chair. "We're just waiting for one more."
Hermione sat down across the table from Tonks, and pulled Draco by his hand to sit beside her. No one said anything more. The atmosphere was heavy, both with the subject matter to be discussed, the weight of the loss of Remus, and the unknown fate of the others. Hermione eyed the empty chair where Remus usually sat. She wondered how he would have handled Draco's situation, how he would have voted. Remus wasn't as brutal as Tonks.
It didn't matter anymore.
Hermione leaned against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, tenderly cradling her body into him. She looked across the table at Tonks. Her hand lay on the table, open and empty. Normally, she held Remus' hand during the meetings, playing with his fingers. She felt guilty for having Draco when Remus wasn't here with them and wondered if Teddy was old enough to feel the loss of his father.
A few moments later, Kingsley appeared in the tent and removed his Disillusionment charm, pulling her from her thoughts. Draco glanced up from drawing patterns on Hermione's palm and almost fell off his chair, jostling Hermione forward.
"Shacklebolt?" he blurted out in amazement.
Kingsley sat down calmly and crossed one leg over the other, appraising him. "We can finally speak openly, Draco. What do you have to tell us?"
Draco turned to her, eyes still wide. She nodded and squeezed his hand in encouragement. He faced the Order leadership and set his jaw, eyeing each one of them. His fingers closed around her hand more tightly.
"I'll give you whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want." He leaned forward, gaining confidence. "I know where the Dark Lord is staying and can give you access. You have to kill Nagini in order to kill the Dark Lord and I'll do that too. But in exchange," he cleared his throat. "I want an Unbreakable Vow to ensure a pardon for my mother, my father and myself after the war. That's it."
He stared at the Order leaders. Minerva nodded approvingly, Tonks' expression was blank, but it was Kingsley that spoke.
"You could give me You-Know-Who's head on a platter and it wouldn't matter," he explained. "The Ministry of Magic isn't an autocracy. At least, it isn't when not under You-Know-Who's rule. I can make the vow for your mother, guilt by association isn't difficult to manage. But your father will be sent to Azkaban no matter what I do."
Draco looked down at his hands, dejected even though Hermione warned him this would be the response. But she knew that, per usual, Kingsley was lying by omission. He could pardon whomever he wanted if he became Minister. The Ministry of Magic wasn't an autocracy but the Minister had the authority to act independently regarding pardons. Hermione had volumes of research to prove it. And as highly placed as he was now in the Office of the Deputy, Kingsley had considerable oversight over pardons with power nearly at the level of the Minister himself.
Hermione waited to see if he would dig his grave even deeper, and smiled inwardly. There wasn't a sodding thing he could say in protest, and she eagerly awaited to shoot him down if he did. She jiggled her leg in anticipation.
Come on, Kingsley. Try me.
He obliged, and sat up straighter, speaking in an authoritative tone. "The length of your father's sentence depends on the level of his involvement and what he's done. Lucius' list of crimes was extensive even before the war started. And from what my sources have told me, they've only grown in severity during this one. For your sake, I will intervene on your father's behalf to lessen the sentence as much as I can, but a pardon is impossible."
Draco clenched his jaw. Hermione wasn't sorry Lucius wouldn't evade Azkaban. He deserved every year he served there. But she hurt for Draco, and didn't want to see him suffer any more.
"And what of Draco?" Hermione asked, repressing her desire to throttle Kingsley on the spot.
He eyed her cautiously. "As for you Draco," Kingsley paused and shifted his gaze back to him. "I will do my utmost to advocate for you. I am well aware that you aided the Order at great personal cost, and this war would have been lost back in March if not for your actions. I will intervene in both of your trials to the best of my knowledge, ability and power, which is not insignificant as you are well aware. I don't doubt many will be swayed by the critical role you played as a spy. That is what I have to offer. Your chances of being cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot, and my ability to secure a pardon for you, would depend on the severity of your crimes and their circumstances as a Death Eater."
Draco's eyes closed and she felt his body deflate. "What I've done is unforgivable," he muttered.
Hermione sat up straighter and Draco's arm fell from her. Hermione knew Draco struggled with self-loathing but she wasn't giving up. What Kingsley said wasn't true, and it wasn't right. She didn't care about Lucius, but Draco didn't deserve Azkaban. Kingsley was still stringing them along, after all this time. First over trust, and now over his crimes.
It was all bollocks.
"He was a spy. He had to," Hermione retorted. She tightened her fingers around Draco's hand. "If he hadn't, he would have been killed, the crimes would have been committed by someone else, he wouldn't have been able to spy and we wouldn't be in the position we are now," she continued, voice shaking. "We'd all be dead or sitting in a dungeon waiting to die without him."
"I understand that, Hermione," Kingsley explained to her patiently. Patronizingly. Her blood started to boil. If he said anything about her not being objective she was going to launch herself across the table and gouge his eyes out. "I know Draco had to commit crimes to ensure he wasn't compromised. And I know that even if he had refused, the result would have been the same. I will work hard to convince others of his case. But I can only do what is within my power."
That wasn't good enough. The wind was blowing outside, causing the entrance of the tent to flap back and forth. Hermione leaned forward. She felt her rage bubbling up inside and smacked her hand on the table, causing everyone to jump. Her joints screamed in protest but she didn't care.
"You're lying," she hissed, furious at Kingsley. Everyone's eyes widened in shock, never having seen her speak to any of the leaders that way. She was younger, and always spoke respectfully when disagreeing, sometimes deferring to their age and experience. He leaned back slightly at her accusation and she pointed at him. "You're lying!" she repeated, raising her voice for effect. "You want to be Minister, Kingsley. The Minister of Magic can pardon whomever they damn well please, and you know it."
Kingsley's brow creased in anger. "That's not–"
"Not what?" she cut him off. "Not written in the Articles of the Wizards' Council from 1707? You can make an Unbreakable Vow on the condition that you become Minister. As Minister, you could bloody well pardon You-Know-Who if you wanted, it just wouldn't be politically convenient."
Kingsley was about to retort but she clenched her jaw, turning to Tonks and Minerva. "Even as a mere deputy as he is now, he could pardon Draco for his role as a spy. He could write it at this very table," she smacked the wood for emphasis and ignored the pain shooting up her arm.
Draco leaned forward in interest.
Uncharacteristically flustered, Kingsley began to retort. "That's ridi–"
Hermione waved her hand, brushing off his denial. "That's listed in the revisions of 1893 under the clause regarding services rendered to the common good." She spat the words at Kingsley and he narrowed his eyes. "You're just worried that if you pardon Draco you'll have to pardon Lucius. And then you'd be perceived as committing the sins of the Ministry of Magic after the First Wizarding War all over again. You'd be finished politically before you even started!"
Minerva stared incredulously at them. "Is that true, Kingsley?"
Recovering his composure, Kingsley began to explain in mild irritation, "Post-war governments don't follow–"
"Bollocks!" She cut him off angrily and stood up, wincing at the pain in her body.
"Miss Granger!" Minerva gasped. "I insist you make your point without foul language! And sit down!"
Tonks watched the interaction with an upturned quirk of her lips. Draco did the same.
"Sorry, Minerva," Hermione managed to sound somewhat contrite before rearing on Kingsley again, ignoring the request to sit down. "It's precisely post-war governments that make use of pardons! There's already precedent. Multiple precedents." Her voice rose louder. "And you know it. In 1946 Leonard Spencer-Moon alone pardoned over thirty-three–"
"Are you su–" Minerva started to ask.
"Of course I'm sure!" Hermione continued her tirade at Kingsley. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, glaring at her. "It's all there in the archives! I worked my arse off to make Portkeys common as Cornish Pixies for us. You think I couldn't look up a few measly Wizarding laws after I saw that you lied to Tonks?"
Tonks snorted, but said nothing. Did she support what Hermione was saying or not? She wasn't vocal like Minerva.
"I didn't lie," Kingsley replied smoothly.
"Omissions are lies!" she hissed back. "Spencer-Moon lost the elections of 1948 to Wilhelmina Tuft," she nearly yelled, pointing at Kingsley, who sat fuming in silence. "Why? Because all the pardons he granted to help form the post-war government coalition became unpopular in the following years. It ruined him politically!"
Draco watched the interaction between them intently, wisely choosing to remain quiet.
Kingsley's jaw clenched. "I promise to do my best to help Draco. I agree that he doesn't deserve Azkaban and I'm optimistic that the trial will work in his favor. But I won't make the vow."
More empty promises. He was still stringing them along like the corrupt official he was. His words were completely useless without the vow.
"This is an Order matter, Kingsley," Minerva chastised him. "Post-war politics have no bearing on our strategy towards winning the war. Mr. Malfoy has gone far and above the call of duty and its clear he could be trusted for many months now. Miss Granger has proven that there are no legal obstacles to granting him a pardon. So do it. We'll deal with politics later."
"Post-war politics are everything, Minerva." Kingsley replied. "Unless you want to sit around this table in another ten years after I'm overthrown."
What?
She narrowed her eyes at Kingsley, nearly panting with rage. Time to bring out the big guns. "You think you're innocent, Kingsley? You think your political career is more important? I know how you succeeded as an Auror."
Hermione saw a flash of fear in Kingsley's eyes as everyone turned to him in surprise. Draco raised his eyebrows, duly impressed.
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked.
"Not. Here." He levelled his gaze at her but she could see he was afraid.
Good. He should be.
"Yes. Here."
Hermione took out the photo of Beirut with a much younger Yasmine and Blaise unintentionally caught in the background, and slammed it down on the table, remembering how she had pulled the same maneuver over a year ago with the picture of the original Order of the Phoenix.
Minerva, Tonks and Draco leaned forward in curiosity but Kingsley swiped it deftly from the tabletop before they could see what it was.
"That's not the original," she spat at him.
Upon holding it up to scrutinize, all the blood drained from his face. Despite his fear, Kingsley set his jaw and spoke in a low, calm voice. "I won't be blackmailed into a vow, Hermione."
Did he think she was bluffing?
"Then you're finished!" she ground out. A vein on her forehead pulsed.
"You're corrupt?" Minerva asked, shocked. "How could Albus ever support you?"
Glad that Minerva understood and agreed with her, but ignoring her question, she steamrolled ahead. "It wouldn't be politically convenient if your love life became public during election time either, would it?" Kingsley's face became ashen. "When this war is done, I'll–"
"Are you really prepared to drag her through the mud?" he shifted his gaze from the photo to her. "A young, single mother with nothing; escaping an arranged, abusive marriage with her son in tow?"
Forced to marry underage and then trapped with a son. So she killed her first husband to escape abuse? That did make Yasmine more sympathetic, but she could take care of herself, and then some. Hermione waved away his attempt to appeal to mercy.
"She's not helpless anymore," Hermione retorted.
"She never was," Kingsley agreed. "But she ensured you could protect Draco and Harry. Is this your gratitude?"
Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. Hermione watched Tonks' narrow her eye in thought as she pieced some of the story together.
Hermione had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but if he was calling her bluff, she'd have to. Betraying Yasmine was the lesser of two evils, wasn't it? This entire war she'd been forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Draco in Azkaban or Yasmine disappearing for a time. It wasn't so difficult to make that choice anymore.
Blood pumping loudly in her head, Hermione glowered down at him. "Yes."
Kingsley raised his eyebrows, floored that she called his bluff.
"She'll figure out a way to evade punishment. She's been doing it for years. That's better than being at the mercy of Dementors." She leaned over the table, breathing in Kingsley's face. "Draco will go to Azkaban over my dead body."
Kingsley wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow and stared at her for a few moments, finally tucking the photo in his chest pocket.
There it was. Give Draco the pardon or forego his career and send Yasmine packing. She eyed Draco over her shoulder to see him staring at her in disbelief.
For you, she thought, and turned back to Kingsley.
"So be it. Then I'll resign."
"You'll– I'll– You'll what?" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You'd sacrifice your political career? Just like that?"
Minerva's jaw dropped, but Tonks remained unfazed by the entire conversation. She seemed to know more about all this.
"Why not?" he shrugged, partially regaining his calm composure. "There are a few other competent politicians that are honest and would do well. Draco knows a few of them."
She turned to Draco, who had been silent through her tirade, and his face paled.
"You're an idealist," Draco whispered in disbelief.
"Alexandra Wexler would make a good Minister if I wasn't running," Kingsley replied with a nod towards Draco. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Draco's jaw went slack, looking completely unnerved at the turn of conversation.
"He's not an idealist," Hermione shot back, worried that Kingsley was trying to stop her by attacking Draco now. "I'm not bluffing Kingsley; I'll take you down."
"You may not believe it, Hermione," Kingsley seemed to have calmed himself, but she detected a faint tremor in his voice. "But I've always taken you seriously."
Did he?
It was Kingsley who had once asked her what she would have done in place of the Order leadership last year. He supported her bid for Portkeys. More often than not, they agreed – as with Wembley Stadium. The only bone of contention between them was Draco.
But why did that matter now? He was trying to distract her.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.
No. Kingsley was trying to flatter her. That's why he was able to switch sides so effectively. He was a convincing liar, and he played people.
"You're completely corrupt," Hermione repeated. "Your Auror career–"
"Was entirely legal," Kingsley cut her off. "Although I did turn a blind eye to the extracurricular activities of the informants I paid. Including the one you know of. It's common practice, hardly out of the ordinary."
Hermione glanced towards Tonks and she nodded. "He's right."
"But your personal life–"
"Is where you have me," Kingsley interrupted. "My current association would cast doubt on the integrity of the Ministry, and would cause upheaval. If I cease being useful, I'll step down and go back to being an Auror. Do you really think I care about my political career?"
"Yes!" she repeated, stubbornly. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
He held his palms out. "Why? I was willing to sacrifice my life for a – what you pointed out last year – poorly conceived plan to get Harry to safety from 12 Grimmauld Place. How many times did we almost die on the back of that thestral?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. He was right.
"Several," she replied, her stomach sank in dread. If Kingsley didn't care whether he lived or died, it seemed silly to care about a political career. And like her, he knew Yasmine could take care of herself. If that was the case, she couldn't force him to do anything.
Unless… unless she quite literally forced him. Yes. She would have to force him. Hermione dug her fingers into her palms as Kingsley continued speaking.
"I do what needs to be done to ensure the safety of the wizarding world. I always have. Not everyone agrees with my methods, but I'm not corrupt," he glared at Minerva. "That's why Albus trusted me."
"So why not just give Draco the pardon right now?" Hermione demanded. "Stop lying to me. You can."
"You should," Minerva added crossly. "We'll hold a vote."
Kingsley held his hands out. "Stability. No one person is that important, Hermione. Not me, not you and not Draco." He levelled her with his gaze. "You seem to have forgotten, but his crimes are terrible."
Hermione heard the implicit threat. Minerva likely wouldn't vote for the pardon after hearing Draco murdered children. She saw Draco's shoulders sag out of the corner of her eye.
"But the circumstances–" her voice rose to defend him.
"Are in his favor," Kingsley finished her sentence. "But he has to go through the Wizengamot like everyone else. Opening the door to pardons for active Death Eaters would undermine what little faith people have in the Ministry and its judicial system, just like what happened with Spencer-Moon. And what's worse, that's precisely how we landed here with another war in the first place." Hermione flared her nostrils. "You were absolutely right. Society will collapse if we have a third war and I will not let that happen. My political career will exist only as it is useful to that end."
Hot, angry tears formed in her eyes as she watched her plan backfire. She had completely misjudged Kingsley and his motivations. The only way to ensure Draco had a future after this war was to make him sign a pardon.
Forget the vow. She would Imperius him.
"Hermione," Draco's voice was quiet and he placed his hand over hers.
"But he fought on our side!" she protested, absolutely seething in anger. "He's one of us!"
"Hermione." Draco gently squeezed her fingers, his voice was so soft and defeated.
No, no, NO!
"And I'm confident he'll be cleared of all charges because of that. In order for the system to work–"
"Fuck the system!" she cried out in a rage.
"Miss Granger!"
"It's easy for you to say that here and now, but someone has to rebuild society," Kingsley replied, still somewhat unsteady. "And like it or not, systems are the only way. You know as well as I do that anarchy doesn't work, and we won't survive it. Just like we won't survive another war."
"Hermione," Draco repeated, utterly dejected. "Hermione, he's right."
"He's not!" Kingsley's reasoning made sense but she couldn't give Draco up like that. She wouldn't.
"Do you want your children fighting in a third war?" Kingsley asked. Her eyes met Draco's for a brief moment.
Children? She couldn't think past Draco going to Azkaban.
Minerva exhaled sharply through her nose. "One pardon won't cause a third war and certainly not for someone responsible for saving so many!"
"It could very well be the spark that ignites the fire," Kingsley said, shifting his gaze to Draco. "Let Draco face the court system. An honest path forward that society can believe in. No shortcuts, no back alley deals, no greased palms. Go through the Wizengamot, get cleared properly. It will be a fair trial. Do it clean."
"Kingsley I must insist–" Minerva began but Hermione cut her off, smacking the table again.
"This isn't a back alley deal! Not like whatever arrangement you had with your spy!" Hermione leaned over the table, pointing her finger in his face. "Unlike her, Draco deserves this!"
"No, I don't," Draco shook his head. "And I don't want to carry my sins with me. I want to be free of them."
She turned back to face him in horror. His face had drained of all color during her tirade. "Draco, a bunch of cowards playing Monday night Quidditch captain aren't fit to judge. They have no right to condemn you, and they can't absolve you either. That's only something you can do yourself. And. You. Have."
He shook his head again. "I haven't. Not for what I've done. But my trial will build that better future. That's what I want. Don't you see?"
Draco was pleading with her. Not with Kingsley. What had just happened?
Hermione reared on Kingsley again. "So why doesn't she face her crimes, Kingsley? You only make martyrs when convenient?"
"No proof, no evidence, no witnesses," he held his hands out. "It will be sensational gossip in the papers but ultimately amount to nothing. However, all three exist against Draco in abundance."
"But none of us are innocent, Kingsley!" she yelled. "Except perhaps Minerva! Do we go under trial too?"
"Please, Hermione." She felt a gentle tug on her arm and turned to Draco, still breathing heavily as much from her outburst as the muscle and joint pains leftover from the Cruciatus Curse. His grey eyes were sad and tired.
Minerva countered in angry disbelief, "I don't agree with everything we have done but are you truly equating the actions of the Order with those of Death Eaters?"
"Of course not!" Hermione replied, exasperated and desperate now. Kingsley wasn't able to sway her or Minerva, so he was targeting Draco. And why wasn't Tonks saying anything? "We're not the same at all! Not in purpose and not in tactics! But we're not innocent either! Do our deeds get shoved under the rug when Draco's don't? He's not a Death Eater, he's one of us!" Hermione choked back a sob as she remembered her own sin. Dedalus smiling, inviting her to kill him. He knew that she would because there was something wrong with her. But no one was forcing her to face the Wizengamot, were they? "And even at Malfoy Manor when I–"
"Stop." Tonks spoke for the first time since she began her tirade.
Hermione glanced down at Minerva and Kingsley, breathing heavily. They didn't know she had killed Dedalus. She sucked in a breath and her gaze flicked back to Tonks, hoping gratitude wasn't written all over her face. In her fervor to defend Draco, she had almost given everyone evidence to put her on these theoretical post-war trials. Or else they'd have to lie for her. She wasn't sure what any of them would do anymore.
Except Tonks, apparently.
"You're right. None of us are innocent." Tonks finished for her. "Before You-Know-Who took over, the DMLE had an independent oversight committee to prevent brutality, in particular from the Aurors since our work was more dangerous, and we were permitted to use Unforgivable Curses. I imagine we'll be subjected to the same scrutiny when this is over, and myself in particular, seeing as it was my idea and my decision to bomb the safe houses."
Hermione blinked at Tonks in disbelief. She had just removed all of Hermione's culpability during the war in one brief speech. Dedalus' murder, which no one knew about except her, and the indiscriminate bombing of Voldemort's army, replete with many unwilling new recruits.
"I would rather squabble over war ethics and do a stint in Azkaban than be dead, and subject my son to an oppressive, autocratic rule should he be lucky enough to live through this. I made peace with that decision a long time ago."
Draco stared wide-eyed at Tonks in amazement.
Tonks shifted her gaze to Draco. "For what it's worth cousin, I'll do my best to see you have a bright future when this ends."
"This isn't right," Minerva added, and narrowed her eyes at Kingsley. "You're throwing him to the wolves to prove a point."
Hermione's blood rushed to her head. She was so angry she saw red. "There are plenty of people to make an example of. People that deserve it. Draco doesn't."
"I'm confident his name will be cleared," Kingsley repeated.
Hermione glared daggers down at him. None of this mattered. There were no guarantees, only empty promises. She ground her teeth and curled her fingers around her wand, absolutely livid. If Kingsley wouldn't do it of his own volition, then she would have to–
"Miss Granger!"
Teeth bared, she glanced over to see Tonks and Minerva pointing their wands at her. She stared down at her wand, now angled towards Kingsley and shaking in her grip. Draco's long fingers gently pried it out of her hand.
"Let it be," he said in that soft, defeated voice she had never heard him use before. "Please, Hermione. Sit down." Her body hurt so much, and she was so angry. This was all wrong.
"I won't let him do this to you!" she ground out, heart thundering in her chest.
"I agree with Shacklebolt," Draco implored her. "This is what I want."
She stared at him in anguish. What could she say to that?
"You're absolutely certain of this, Mr. Malfoy?" Minerva asked incredulously. "What Kingsley is doing to you is reprehensible." At the word 'reprehensible' she glowered in his direction.
Draco nodded. "I'm sure."
Hermione blinked down at him, tears now forming in her eyes. She let him pull her gently into her chair, and winced when her bum hit the wood. He cupped her face with his hands and turned her to face him. He just looked exhausted, resigned to his fate, and accepting that he should eventually go to Azkaban.
"Let's finish this, yeah?" he whispered.
"I'm not letting this go," she insisted, wiping her tears away.
His mouth quirked upwards and he rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs.
"I've been too naïve. I deserve Azkaban."
"Like hell you do." The upturn of his lips spread into a sad smile.
"I want it all to end," his voice sounded raw. "Don't you?"
"It doesn't have to end like this," she said, bottom lip trembling.
"It does. Please. Let me have this."
Draco turned back to Kingsley, who still appeared somewhat shaken from the confrontation. Hermione wasn't going to forget this. She'd find a way, just not here. She glanced over at Minerva, who looked as if she had never seen Hermione before.
"My mother," Draco spoke with more confidence in his tone. "You'll take care of my mother?"
Kingsley slid his gaze to Hermione, glowering back at him and, satisfied that she had ceased her threats, nodded towards Draco. "I can take care of your mother."
Draco let out a slow exhale and Hermione flared her nostrils furiously. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, bringing her hand up to rest on the table with his. She relaxed her posture and after a moment he spoke.
"All the Lestranges, Jugson, Mulciber, Crabbe Senior, Goyle Senior, Rookwood, Avery, both Snydes, both Lees, Selwyn, the Carrows, my father and now myself. Those are who remain of the Inner Circle."
"Severus Snape?" Minerva asked him the question, eager to return to the war, but also weary from the fight.
"I…" He swallowed, looked down at Hermione's hand and slowly rubbed her fingers. "He's…" Draco seemed to be unable to find the right words. "He's working against the Dark Lord from within."
Everyone shifted in their chairs, clearly disturbed by this news. Draco looked up.
"He killed Albus," Minerva stated, blinking at him.
"I know," Draco replied, confused. "I don't understand that part of it. But he found out I was behind the disappearances of the Inner Circle members and warned me." His fingers encircled Hermione's wrist and he began stroking a vein on the underside of her forearm with his thumb. "Then he hinted that the safe houses would be attacked soon and suspected Order members like yourself kidnapped without evidence, trial or prison." He glanced at his ex-professor. "It's because of him that you and the gamekeeper are still alive. He's warned me about every raid, knowing I would pass the information along." Draco shifted his gaze to the rest of the Order leaders. "It's because of Severus that the Order still exists. He knew about the raids. I just passed that information along."
Minerva sat back straighter in her chair. Draco continued. "He also saw me when I brought the…" he glanced over at Hermione. "that object from Hogwarts. I think he knew what it was."
Momentarily setting aside her fury towards Kingsley, Hermione started to piece her unanswered questions together. "The sword of Gryffindor appeared after you gave it to me, when Harry, Ron and I went to destroy it. That sword was in Dumbledore's office. We had no idea how or why it appeared. He must have sent it."
Draco offered her a wry, tired smile. "I'll never understand him."
"What else, Draco?" Tonks prodded him.
"The Dark Lord," he continued and cleared his throat. "He's been at my home this whole time."
"You…" Hermione turned to him in horror. "You've been living with him?"
"For over two years now," Draco nodded, looking exhausted. Hermione laid a shaking hand on his back and glared at Kingsley again. "If you want to attack him there, I have more information about his comings and goings now that I'm in the Inner Circle. I can tell you when he'll be back at the Manor. I can get you in whenever you want."
Tonks was about to speak but he continued.
"And the Dark Lord is weaker."
Everyone sat back in surprise. "Weaker?" Tonks repeated.
Draco nodded. "Magically."
They had been destroying his Horcruxes. Pieces of his soul completely gone. It made sense.
"Do you know why?" Minerva asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied, and Draco turned to her. "I'll explain soon."
"There will be a prisoner exchange offered through the Daily Prophet."
Everyone at the table raised their heads, rapt with attention, hopeful now, despite their recent blow. They could get all the captured Order members back.
"They–" Draco paused and inhaled slowly with a shudder. They waited for him to speak, but he dropped his head into his hands, fisting his hair. "It's a trap. We killed everyone," he choked out.
"No!" Minerva clutched at her collar.
Hermione's stomach twisted and more tears left her eyes. She glanced over at Tonks to see her face harden. It wasn't just Remus. Luna. Fred. Padma. Charlie. Terry. Justin. All the others. They wouldn't see any of them anymore. The Death Eaters, and Draco, had already tortured and killed them.
"You can," he heaved a sob, still holding his head, looking down at the table. "You can get into the Manor with my blood." He summoned an empty glass from the table and stood up. Hermione's hand dropped to the table with a thud. "You can end this; you can kill him." He sliced down the length of his forearm, through his Dark Mark and into his flesh with his wand and made a fist, gritting his teeth.
Minerva gasped. Tonks curled her lip and wordlessly watched his blood flow.
"Draco, don't!" Hermione stood up, horrified as he squeezed his arm above the slice, bleeding into the glass and over the table. He was too strong and she couldn't pry his hand away.
"Take it!" Draco ground out. "Just take it all!"
"Mr. Malfoy! Please!" Minerva stood up, unsure how to intervene.
"You're hurting yourself, don't!" Hermione pleaded with him, trying to peel his fingers off to stem the blood flow. "We shouldn't fight at Malfoy Manor anyway."
That got Draco's attention and he turned to gaze down at her, breathing heavily and eyes bloodshot. "Why not?"
Gently, she pulled his arm towards her, and healed the slice he just made in his flesh.
"She's right," Tonks spoke up. "There's no way to prepare the grounds and despite the bombs, we're still significantly outnumbered." Hermione sat down and he sunk into his chair as well. She pulled his arm into her lap and stroked it with her fingers. "You're on your own there with no help. You have to kill Nagini, and he'll kill you and your parents once he finds out what you've done. One touch on the Dark Mark and they all appear at his side."
"Can we lure him to Hogwarts?" Minerva asked. "Severus is on our side. Since he's Headmaster, the castle will fight for us."
Tonks shifted her gaze to Minerva. Her black eye was incredibly unsettling, and Hermione felt a jolt of fear at the mixture of anger and grief emanating from her. She looked dangerous, somewhat like Draco when affected by the use of Unforgivable Curses, but even more terrifying.
"Leveraging the castle's defense will more than make up for the numerical disadvantage." Her voice was hard, determined.
Hermione watched Tonks, the thought of planning an attack was buoying her as well. "Lavender and Dean," Hermione added. The investment would pay off again.
Tonks nodded wordlessly. "If we can get him, get all of them to Hogwarts, we can crush them completely. We'll turn that castle into a death trap."
Draco flicked his eyes across the table to Tonks, clearly doubtful. "The Dark Lord's army was roughly one hundred strong after you blew up the safe houses. More with the new recruits, I can get you exact numbers in a week. And he'll bring the Dementors. There are fifty of them."
A feeling of dread slowly filled Hermione. The odds were terrible, even before the raid where at least twenty-five Death Eaters had died. But Tonks didn't seem fazed by Draco's news.
"After the raid we're forty now," Tonks nodded, "Plus the professors that will fight. So roughly forty-seven. But at Hogwarts we can do it. You-Know-Who's weakness is his overconfidence. He'll expect to defeat us easily with those numbers."
Draco rested his hand on Hermione's, still skeptical. "There are others that don't want the Dark Lord to win despite their support of pure-blood politics. They'll turn if they know he can be killed."
Tonks raised her eyebrows. "How many?"
Hermione watched Draco look absently into space, running through names in his head. "I can't be sure yet."
Tonks clasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward. "Best get to work then, cousin."
"Try the Zabinis first," Kingsley suggested.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but agreed with his suggestion. Yasmine would be able to help Draco figure out who would turn.
Draco turned to him in surprise. "I hoped Blaise might turn."
Kingsley nodded but said no more. Perhaps wary of stoking Hermione's wrath again regarding his mother.
"How do you propose to lure them, Nymphadora?" Minerva asked, looking down her nose through her glasses. "So much is dependent on ensuring You-Know-Who will come to Hogwarts."
Tonks lifted the corner of her mouth slightly and Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation. She already had a plan to focus her rage. "We're having a prisoner exchange. Aren't we? They won't know what hit them."
"There's something else I have to tell you." Hermione took a deep breath and looked around the table. "About Harry."
"Does this have to do with your mission from Albus?" Minerva asked.
Utterly spent from the events of the meeting, and body aching with the exertion of her standing tirade, she sagged against Draco. She couldn't hold her tears back anymore, and let them fall. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his chest.
ooooooooooooooo
Draco and Hermione walked out of the tent holding hands, Draco Disillusioned once again. She was wiped out by the warring emotions within her. Nervous about the impending battle, grief stricken over the loss of so many, dread at Harry's impending death, pure blinding rage at Kingsley and yet hopeful that they might actually win. The wind picked up a few leaves, lifting them up in a swirl of reds, oranges and yellows.
The scattering of tents in the forest reminded Hermione of the World Quidditch Cup. The two meandered over to Hermione's tent and she hobbled slightly with unexpected pains to her muscles and joints.
"I think Shacklebolt renewed my faith in government."
Completely exhausted from the confrontation, Hermione rubbed her forehead. "I'm going to murder him, Draco. Find someone else to admire." And yet… Draco sounded hopeful, didn't he?
He huffed a laugh, and called her name softly, "Hermione?"
She turned around, wishing she could see his face.
"I want my judgement to be a part of what heals Wizarding England. I feel good about myself now."
Hermione knew Draco couldn't handle the sins he was committing. She didn't think she would have been able to either in his place and didn't interfere with his epiphany. And so she swallowed her ire at Kingsley, and her grief for the dead Order members. "I'm glad."
She could tell he was looking at her, but couldn't determine what his expression was with the charm. After a few moments he spoke. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Can you?" She wanted nothing more, but she didn't know what situation he was dealing with at home.
Voldemort was there. This whole time. She still couldn't believe it. No wonder he had been holding that information to himself.
And even if he could stay, she had no idea if they would even be alone in her tent. Sometimes people paired off at night, beds were swapped. She assumed Draco wouldn't want to spend his time answering awkward questions or dealing with people who were used to thinking of him as an enemy.
"Tell me what you want," he said.
She opened the flap to her tent, thankfully it was empty. It was still evening. Everyone was having dinner or discussing the Order's recent losses and the future. The two entered, she closed the flap behind her and turned to his Disillusioned form.
"Can you just hold me for a little while? Before you leave?"
"Anything," his deep voice replied.
The two climbed into her bed with Draco lying down back to the wall, easily hidden, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. Hermione melted into his body and closed her eyes.
It was silent inside, but they heard the occasional talk of Order members passing by. Draco waved his wand to extinguish all the lights. She felt his chest expand and contract against her back and listened to him breathe behind her.
She could fix this.
She knew where Kingsley lived. She knew where he slept. She'd break into his house and Imperius him to write Draco's pardon. It wouldn't be difficult, and it was necessary. Harry had Imperiused a goblin when they broke into Gringotts and the Aurors were given license to use Unforgivables. Saving a spy crucial to any Order victory from Azkaban was a completely justifiable reason.
Kingsley would probably adjust his wards though. He knew she had entered his house, and who knows if Yasmine would be there. Maybe she could Polyjuice herself into Draco, confront Kingsley in his office at the Ministry and Imperius him there. The two of them were practically best mates now. She could probably walk right in for an unannounced chat. Have a drink of his sodding expensive Firewhisky and Imperius the bastard. Either way, it wouldn't be too diff–
"Hermione."
"Mmmm?" she asked, pulled from her thoughts.
"I want you to let it go. I deserve to be judged, I deserve what I get."
Hermione felt her fury build up inside her again. "No," she spat. "You don't deserve that place."
Of that she was certain.
Draco's leg wrapped around hers, bringing her even closer into his embrace.
"If Hermione Granger says so, it must be true."
He didn't have faith in himself like she did. She felt his arm muscles flex as he tightened them around her.
"But you don't believe that." Her voice came out small, unsure. She wanted him to believe that Azkaban was not inevitable. That he didn't deserve it.
His lips spread into a smile against the back of her head. She wished she could see him.
"I believe that you believe that. Kingsley certainly knows you believe that." He chuckled softly. "Fuck Hermione. I've never even seen him lose his composure before and you nearly made him piss his trousers."
"I love you," she whispered. "I'll fight for you."
"I know; it was impressive to watch." A satisfied, rumbling groan came from his chest as he folded her into his body. "Don't take this from me." She heard him swallow. "Please? I want to be clean."
Her heart ached for him. But what could she say against a request like that?
Hermione didn't want him to go to Azkaban, but didn't want to go against his wishes either. She hadn't seen him so happy with himself in months, and hated Kingsley even more for using Draco against her in that way.
But even if Kingsley was using him, did it matter? All Draco wanted was to be free from Voldemort, and this was how he chose to use his freedom.
Her voice was thick when she answered him, tears forming in her eyes. "If that's what you want."
Draco sighed in relief. "Thank you."
He held her in silence for a few moments and, completely exhausted, she began to drift off to sleep.
"You were going to attack him, weren't you?" Hermione's eyes snapped open at his question. "I swear you were gearing up to Imperius him on the spot."
"No, of course not," she mumbled. "I would never do something like that."
At least… not there. Too many witnesses.
His voice lilted in disbelief. "I'm not so sure," he said, pressing kisses to the back of her head.
Basking in his warmth, comfort and security, she fell asleep to the cadence of his breathing against the nape of her neck and the beat of his heart against her back. It was the first night that she didn't dream of Bellatrix's knife slicing into her skin. But when she woke up the following morning, he was gone.
Chapter end notes:
In Slowly Towards Desire by phlox, Draco had expressed a desire to be 'clean'. That story and that phrasing in particular has always stuck with me. I love the redemption arc in that one shot.
Next chapter: Draco and the Zabinis.
If you want to chat/yell at me, I'm mistresslynndramione on tumblr, Lynn Dramione on Facebook, princessrapbattles on reddit and mistresslynn#1535 on discord.
