The letter was tied with the rather regal ribbon of the Ministry of Magic, the wax seal a deep, rich purple, it's embossed 'M' stand out.
The owl had arrived at breakfast, shaking itself off impatiently, his leg stuck out abruptly demanding that Draco relieved him of his duty immediately. He'd done so, and the eagle owl, with all its air of self-importance flew away the moment the parchment had left it. Draco curled his lip in annoyance at the animal; at least his own owl had the dignity to wait.
He unfurled the letter, taking care to deliberately smash the wax seal, and felt his heart plummet in his chest, through the floor, and continue dropping into the depths of the world.
Dear Mr Draco Malfoy, it read,
I am writing to alert you to the date of a Mr Lucius Malfoy's trial. It will be held in courtroom one, at 9am sharp, on the tenth of May, 1998.
You will be expected to attend.
Expect two Aurors, Miss Ava Brett and Mr Luca Greensworth to collect you from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry at exactly 8:30am, they shall accompany you throughout the day.
Good wishes,
Miranda Coppergrove,
Secretary to the Minister of Magic.
The trial was in a couple of days, hardly any time to prepare something, anything if he could, to help his father. If anything could help his father. He swallowed thickly, his tongue thick and slimy in his mouth, his fingers suddenly as heavy as lead.
He doubted if anything could help.
His stomach twisted as he realised he was expected to attend. He would be collected like a prized pet and made to sit at his own fathers' trial. He was going to be forced to watch the man who raised him be sentenced to the kiss, or whatever other punishment they could think of. It was another step in his public humiliation. He'd already bared his soul, now he had to watch the real destruction of his family. They were already forced to live apart.
He sighed inwardly, unwilling to let McGonagall who was poring over great reams of parchment of various lengths and a rather old, dusty tome, her fingers ink stained, see that he was putting up any sign of a fuss.
If there was one thing he'd discovered, given the events of the past year, and more tellingly, the past week; it was that he needed Hogwarts.
The castle had remained in a tragic state since the war. Nothing had changed since the final event, yet, as he remained at the school under house arrest, he'd been free to do as he pleased. The portraits that had managed to stay mainly damage or spillage free, had watched him roam about at night, following him as best they could, some desperate for conversation; wanting to know when their friends would be back. If they'd return at all.
He'd gone to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, and offered her his help in returning it to its normal, overly clean, clinical state. He'd offered a pair of his own house elves to help clean the wing, and upon summoning, the pair had both grumbled delightedly; an odd thing to overhear. They'd been so happy to have somewhere new to clean that the entire place had sparkled by the end of the day. The floor was so pristine that Draco had been able to see his pale, drawn face in the stone. The beds had been re-dressed, and he'd ordered an entire ten years of medical supplies to the school.
Madam Pomfrey had smiled widely for a three whole days afterwards. It had fixed something small inside him however, safe in the knowledge that the one place he could go to should something awful happen was fixed and perfect; a little sanctuary should he require it.
The common room remained a mess, but it was comforting. The plush slytherin green sheets of his four poster was comforting. The hallways were comforting. The walk down to the lake was comforting. Everything about Hogwarts was a balm to soul. He needed Hogwarts.
The last thing he wanted was to be unable to return to it; he needed one last year at the school. The idea of the adult world, with its trials and tribulations was terrifying. He wasn't going to put a single toe out of line lest he be forced to face the disdain of those his family had wronged.
For the millionth time since his sixth year, he felt like a very young child. Wanting sanctuaries and safe spaces. If only the world would let him have it. In just a couple of days, he'd be sitting in a lion's den. Not a single safe space to run to.
:: :: ::
Breakfast at the Burrow had been a rather sedate affair. After all the tears spilt the night before, they'd awoken, eyes puffier than usual, their skin blotchy and raw. Owls had fluttered into the kitchen, bringing them news, and updates from both McGonagall and Shacklebolt. Harry had muttered something into Ginny's ear, who had promptly put her hand over his in a supportive manner, nodding encouragingly at him.
"Ah," Arthur said, his face twisting with pity, "I see the date for Lucius Malfoy's trial has been set, both his wife and son are expected to attend." He explained, as Molly looked at him curiously, her face expectant.
"They're expected to attend?" Ron asked dumbfounded, "but aren't they under house arrest in two different places? What on Merlin's green earth could they do at the trial?"
"Watch," Molly chided her son, her ever thinning face pulled into disapproval, "surely we made it clear to you earlier that the Malfoy family is going to made into an example of sorts now that the war is over?"
"What?" Hermione found herself asking, alarm ringing through the lone syllable like a bell.
"The Malfoy family are one of the oldest wizarding families in history. They date back centuries and they've preached pure-blooded values for as long as we can all remember. They've prided themselves on being pure-blooded, rich, and consistently in powerful positions. Now that the war is over, who better to show the rest of the world that being pure-blooded isn't all it's cracked up to be. They've made themselves a very nice bed to lie in, and they all know they're going to have to endure it." Bill explained fairly, picking up a bowl of granola to sprinkle into his yoghurt.
"I don't see how anyone could consider making an example out of anyone else acceptable." Hermione said stand offishly, as Ron made a choking sound.
"Marrietta Edgecoombe," he reminded her as she flushed, her grip about her spoon tightening.
"I'm not going to pretend what you're on about," Arthur interjected, clearly uncomfortable with what was transpiring, "but Bill is right, Merlin it would be good to have Remus with us, he'd explain this better than I could. The Malfoy family switched sides, now, that should seem all well and good, they saw the light in the end and all that, but in reality, they've just made themselves appear more untrustworthy. Yes, they have put themselves forward as being relatable, a mother willing to defy the most dangerous dark wizard of the time just to see her son, and to keep her family together, but their actions beforehand have been deplorable." Arthur said to Hermione, passing Bill a small bowl of strawberries and raspberries as Harry looked at him with a clearly tormented expression. It was a look Hermione had seen on his face far too often lately, and she made a mental note to speak to him about it.
"I believe we don't have to tell you what Lucius Malfoy alone has done to this family, the worst of it unfortunately affecting Ginny," Ginny flinched slightly, as Bill continued to speak, "and we are not the only family affected. Stories of his bullying and intimidation are wide spread; most of which he justified because he was rich and pure-blooded. People are going to want to see him punished, and his family taught a lesson. Shacklebolt is doing everything he can to not let riots break out and-"
"This is the best way he's found? To force the Malfoy family essentially watch itself being destroyed?" Hermione replied clearly agitated for a reason she couldn't quite explain, Ron stared at her open mouthed, as George looked to Ginny a questioning look within his eyes.
"What would you suggest, they all get the kiss?" Bill asked her calmly, "It's been on the front page of the Daily Prophet, news of all the Death Eater trials, and what the public would like to see as punishment. The kiss has been alarmingly popular to Kingsley's dismay."
A fire burst within Hermione like a volcano. Her blood seared from the rage that had exploded out of nowhere and she clenched her fists furiously, her eyes livid.
"Well of course people would like more death after a war. Of course people are only out for themselves and vengeance. Of course. How silly of me to think after the majority of us witnessed our friends and relatives get murdered or having to kill other people ourselves that we might actually want to work together towards being a better society. Merlin's great hairy balls I had hoped we'd be better than that." Hermione fumed, before a great swell of sadness over took her and she leaned back in her chair, letting her head hang back for a brief moment. Unsure what had just come over her. Molly patted her shoulder comfortingly, seeming to understand her riotous emotions, whilst both Ginny and Harry watched her carefully, a thoughtful expression crossing onto Harry's for a brief instant, before flickering a way like a candle being blown out.
A new owl flew clumsily into the kitchen, and oversized newspaper strapped to its leg. It knocked over a jug as it made its way to the table, causing Ron to swear as his jeans became soaked in pumpkin juice. Percy jumped up immediately to relieve the exhausted owl from its burden, and the moment Percy had dropped a sickle into its leg pouch it fell asleep, resting upon Percy's hand as if it were a perch. The third eldest Weasley child looked uncomfortable, as George, dully amused at his brother's predicament, took the bundle from him.
He unfurled it, before recoiling in horror, a look of disgust plain on his face.
"Looks like the Malfoy's aren't the first wizarding family of Britain anymore," he cringed, his ears tinging scarlet with his embarrassment.
"What makes you say that?" Ginny asked tentatively, watching her brother's expression with apprehension, as if she knew the answer already but didn't want to see or hear it. George turned the paper around so its front cover was plain for all to see.
It was bright red, with 'Witch Weekly' emblazoned on the top in Gryffindor gold, but what had caused George to recoil so drastically was the picture of the entire Weasley family, complete with both laughing twins. The headline blared at them, in the same gold as the title, "Britain's No. 1 Family!" The Weasley's in the picture were smiling and waving, all looking as proud as they could be at the declaration, as a horrified, embarrassed silence descended over the kitchen.
"What is it?" Ginny spoke straightforwardly, unwilling to touch the magazine and find out herself.
"It has a countdown," Ron announced looking just as disgusted as George had done a moment before.
"A count down to what?"
"Oh let me guess, Harry's issue," Ginny sighed, as George flicked open the pages to discover how much worse it could all get.
"You're not wrong Ginny." George announced, "this first bumper issue is just an introduction to the new most influential wizarding family in Britain. The next issues in the coming two weeks will cover them each individually, with exclusive interviews, and pictures. Then, we take a look at Draco Malfoy, the bad boy with an unpredictable future, before dipping into the world of Hermione Granger, the muggleborn with beauty and brains, before finally, telling you everything you didn't know about Harry Potter." George read, as the family fell into an awkward silence.
"You want to change things Hermione?" Bill eventually asked into the quiet.
"Of course," She said as if he had taken leave of his intelligence.
"Then go to the trial of Lucius Malfoy." He said completely seriously.
"I could do that?"
"You're Hermione Granger, you could let a manticore loose in the ministry, and you'd be pardoned and given money most likely." Bill said seriously, "more importantly, if you want to change the way the wizarding world is behaving right now, go shame them. Go do something none of them would expect you to do. Go sit as close as you can to Draco Malfoy, and look like you're supporting him."
"But wouldn't that just make the press think that Hermione was romantically interested in him?" Ron asked, looking as if he'd rather eat a bowl of hippogriff excrement than imagine Draco and Hermione together.
"Not if I went too," Harry answered, as Hermione looked at him shocked.
"You'd go with me?"
"Remember what you said to me about you needing to be at Hogwarts and me at the Ministry? I think it's already starting." He told her plainly, as Ginny squeezed his hand, sensing his distress that Hermione thought he couldn't quite place.
"You really think that us two being there would change things?"
"How could it not," Arthur answered as Molly nodded seriously, "two of the Golden Trio sitting at the trial of one of the biggest criminals, and sitting close to his son. After he apologised, legally required to or not, that you two would be willing to sit so close to him and not ostracise him would be a very big thing indeed. There are already debates about where he'd work after his stint in Azkaban; people are taking bets on what he'll be able to do in his future, not what he can't."
"Is it truly that bad for the Malfoy family?" Hermione asked quietly, confusion thick and heavy about her heart.
"Yes." Molly answered her, looking into her eyes seriously, a sadness that had never been there before dark and powerful. Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded back to her, confirming what she already knew.
If they were serious about what they'd said, about everything they knew was coming, they'd both have to go to this trial.
"If anything, you may actually learn something about Draco Malfoy that you didn't before," Molly said, attempting to console the two stony faced adopted members of her family.
"I'm not going, fuck that." Ron said moodily as Ginny sighed at him audibly.
"I think I need to go for a walk," Hermione announced, feeling clouds in her mind, completely obscuring her thoughts.
"Of course, we'll see you when you return, or if you don't, tomorrow at Hogwarts for the memorial service for Tonks and Lupin." Arthur said understanding, as Hermione rose, the last of her breakfast finished. She smiled weakly, and turned away from Ron who was looking at her with a longing, furious expression. Ginny nodded to her, meaning that they'd talk later to one another and she returned it, suddenly desperate for the conversation with her to happen now, but knowing, knowing that she'd have nothing to say.
She left the kitchen, striding into the warm morning and apparating the moment she walked past the boundary, to Hogwarts.
:: :: ::
"You ," he said, not expecting the word to come out with as much venom as it had done, but it disguised the odd jolt of delight he'd felt in the middle of his heart the moment he'd spotted her messy russet head walking towards him with a torn look upon her face.
"Me," she agreed, nodding, twisting her hands about one another in front of her, unwilling to make eye contact with him. She was wearing a pale blue sun dress that fell just above her knees, a thin cardigan thrown over the top to keep out the breeze that had a distinctly winter like bite to it. Her complexion was healthier than it had been since the last time he'd seen her, a glow had returned to it, one that reminded him of the way the sun illuminated even the dullest of things. Her hair had been scraped up into a messy bun at the back of her head, and escaping tendrils made her look girlish, yet mature at the same time.
She continued to twist her hands nervously, unwilling or unable to turn her chocolate coloured eyes towards him, and he sat down on the grass outside the castle expectantly.
"What is it Granger, you're making me think I need to call someone with a straight jacket for you."
"Harry and I, we're..." She trailed off, steeling herself for the words that were to come, as he felt himself sit up straighter, his eyes narrowing. She looked to him, just as he was about to open his mouth, goading her into telling him, until the expression on her features stopped him. She looked the way she always did when in class and she was right about something. Not smug, never smug, but sure of herself, confident. She was going to do it right.
"Your father's trial. Harry and I are going to attend, and we're going to sit next to you." She told him, making it clear there would be absolutely no way about it, or out of it, that was how it was going to be.
"Why." He stated suspiciously.
"Have you seen any news lately?" She asked him, relaxing, sitting down in front of him. She crossed her legs and pulled her skirt down her thighs, smoothing out the fabric before allowing her hands to trail in the grass playfully.
"No, I've rather enjoyed living in the dark," he lied, remembering the shame of the letter earlier, such news had always been told to his family in person. He'd grown up used to seeing the Minsiter of Magic in his living room or entrance hall, waiting for his father. The letter had been a slap in the face, a reminder that he, a Malfoy, was no longer relevant or in favour. He'd fallen in the world.
"Well... I can't say I blame you," She admitted, "I don't want to know any of it myself, but, we were told at breakfast that if we wanted any part in the wizarding world, we'd do our best to be at your trial and by your side specifically, so we'll be there."
"Why am I getting the distinct feeling you're not telling me the truth?" He asked her, probing.
"I may be paraphrasing, but the gist of it is if you are to have a future Malfoy, you need Harry and I." She told him, the honesty in her words a blade pushed into his skin with each syllable and set alight. He was a werewolf, and her words were silver. His lip curled instinctively, irritation bubbling up under his skin.
"Oh don't you dare be all 'no I don't' on me Malfoy!" Hermione suddenly cried, her expression as agitated as he felt, the sound of grass ripping as her hands tightened upon the ground.
"Well I-"
"Do." She interrupted, as he glared at her furiously.
"Why in the world would I need you and Scarhead?" He demanded, his voice coming out a dangerous slither, a snake waiting for the right time to strike.
"Because today, a nice big, overly tasteless copy of Witch Weekly just declared the Weasley's the most influential wizarding family in Britain, meaning your family have fallen from the top spot, and the general public are baying for your blood. If you want to be thrown to the wolves and have the options for your future shrink faster than your cock on a cold day, then I suggest you suck it up like Harry and I are doing and tolerate our presence." She replied smoothly, her own tone carrying the same lethal danger he'd spat at her, her eyes fixed upon his, hard and... excited? Something familiar filled him, warmth that he'd not experienced in a long while.
"Why are you doing this for me?" He stated, unwilling to break away from the eye contact she was maintaining, curiosity now ablaze within him, confusion at her excitement rampant in his thoughts.
"Because I did not sleep in a tent for a year without proper bathing so I could watch the wizarding world tear itself a part in its need for vengeance," she replied plainly, honestly. He felt himself relax, and he laughed suddenly, not expecting the sound of it. Hermione smiled, surprised, but her own posture released itself of tension he wasn't sure she was aware she'd been holding.
"Look at what's happened to the world," he smirked as Hermione laughed.
"Indeed, I think the war was just the start of it." She sighed and he fell silent, watching her carefully. They stayed sitting opposite one another, staring in the direction of Hagrid's hut, which was acquiring an ever growing pile of compost as the chilly breeze tussled at their clothing.
"I better go," Hermione said eventually, looking guilty.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," he replied, turning to watch her leave. She paused, as if she'd been caught in a game of tag, and looked at him curiously.
"Tomorrow?" She asked a hint of alarm in her voice.
"McGonagall said there is a memorial service to be held here for our old Defence Professor, remember the Werewolf? And my aunt's kid, apparently they were both killed here, and my aunt wants to scatter their ashes here, why the teachers I don't know but I have to attend as one of them was family, and my mother will be here." He told her as she looked at him, more alarmed by the second.
"Yes, I remember Remus, and his wife, Tonks," She said quietly, and Draco felt a small flare of shame alight for a reason he couldn't quite locate. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow," she said, dipping her head in goodbye as she turned from him, her eyes misty and lost.
"Tomorrow," he repeated, watching her go, and feeling the loneliness embrace him once more.
