Stand and Watch It Burn

III. Being Alive

The living room in Hermione's and Ron's home was silent save for the clicking of Hermione's knitting needles and the occasional rustle of papers. Ron was sitting on the sofa, bent over the coffee table, busy looking over some paperwork he'd brought home that day. Hermione sat next to him, counting stitches and referencing her knitting book constantly. This was her first sweater (for Aiden) and it was shaping up marvelously. She was halfway done with the back. Hermione held up the swatch of knitted fabric and examined it.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Ron responded absentmindedly, not looking up from his papers.

"I'm knitting a sweater for Aiden," Hermione said, waving it like a little green flag. "What do you think?"

Ron smiled bemusedly. "I wonder if this is how my mum and dad were when we were babies."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, Ron, I'm becoming your mum!"

Ron pretended to be offended. "What's wrong with being like my mum?!"

"Nothing," Hermione laughed. She leaned against his shoulder. "Your mum is wonderful. She did raise six wonderful children after all."

"Seven."

"No, six. You… you're not so wonderful."

"Hey!" Ron cried out indignantly. Hermione laughed and scooched back to her side of the sofa. She picked up her needles again but didn't start knitting just yet. Hermione stared down at her work. Was she really becoming like Mrs. Weasley? Hermione had been the brightest witch in her year at Hogwarts. And for all that, here she was, a housewife, knitting baby sweaters.

x x x

"Do you understand the terms of your release, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up with tired eyes at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. Although he was more than twice Draco's age, he looked much younger. It certainly helped that he wore midnight blue robes that brought out the color of his eyes, framed by rimless glasses, while Draco was dressed in tattered ashen grey robes that did little but emphasize Draco's drawn complexion. The man had not had to endure years in Azkaban. There he sat, smiling, as if without a worry in the world. How Draco envied him.

"Yes, Mr. Davids. You've only repeated them to me five times. Contrary to popular belief, I am not stupid. I assure you, Azkaban has not addled my brains," Draco said dryly.

Mr. Davids looked at Draco sympathetically. Unable to bear his pitying gaze, Draco looked away, staring instead at the bookshelves in Mr. Davids's office. "Draco," Mr. Davids said softly, "I know this is a hard time for you. You have been through a lot and it can't have been easy. But you're free now. On conditions, of course, but your name will be cleared. Malfoy Manor has been put under your name and all your family treasure has been transferred to your account. Life will be like it was before Azkaban," Mr. Davids said, smiling.

Draco now examined the titles on the bookshelves. A History of Magical Roots in Essex? Fascinating.

"The courts have ruled you innocent. Isn't that what you wanted Draco?"

Flavors of the Rainbow: The History of the Jellybean, The Building of Diagon Alley 1560-1983, Gobstones: A Squib's Guide… absolutely enthralling…

"I am always available to talk if you need it, Draco," Mr. Davids continued.

"Are we finished, sir?" Draco asked emotionlessly.

Mr. Davids sighed. "Yes, Draco, you may go."

As Draco opened the door, Mr. Davids called out, "Please stay in touch, Draco. My wife and I would love to have you over for dinner some time." Draco stopped, but didn't respond. "And congratulations, Draco. You're free."

Draco walked out of the office and closed the door quietly. Free? Hardly. That was one thing that kind-hearted oaf would never understand. He was far too noble and believed too much in the goodness of humanity. Davids was the only lawyer who was willing to take Draco's case. He was fully convinced that Draco had been wrongly tried and was innocent. Davids was no crackpot either. He was one of the best the wizarding world had to offer. Davids was absolutely brilliant at what he did, and a very intelligent man. But he had too much trust in forgiveness. He thought by getting Wizengamot to overturn Draco's conviction, he would be giving Draco his freedom. But once convicted in the eyes of the public, a person could never be free. Draco knew this all too well.

Wandering down the Ministry halls, Draco tried to orient himself. It had been so long since he was last in the Ministry. Where the bloody hell was he? Muggle Relations… Magical Games and Sports… Auror Office… Magical Misuse… Ah. There it was. The exit.

Draco placed his hand on the door handle, but didn't turn it. This was it. He was finally walking out.

Draco shielded his eyes as the sunlight he had not seen for two years blinded his eyes. Fresh air filled his lungs when he gasped in shock. A soft breeze floated by, brushing his cheek and ruffling his hair. Dropping his hand from his eyes, Draco took a look around him. Sun. Sky. Flowers. People.

So this was being alive.

x x x

Harry leaned back in his chair as he listened to what Dean Thomas was telling him. Dean, who worked in the Magical Games and Sports Department (Dean was constantly trying to institute football, but his pleas were constantly laughed off), had come rushing in to his office blabbering and gasping at the same time. Harry had to wait for Dean to catch his breath before he could finally understand what Dean had been trying to say. And even then, Harry wasn't sure he heard right.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked again.

Dean sighed. "Yes, Harry, you've asked me five times now. Unlike you," Dean said, reaching over to poke Harry's glasses, "I have extremely good vision. I know what I saw. Draco Malfoy was wandering around the Ministry. He was wearing rags, but he was still walking with that old Malfoy arrogance, and his freakishly blonde hair is unmistakable."

"Then that means his conviction was overturned," Harry concluded, shaking his head. "How…?"

Dean shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Rumor is it he had Davids on the case. I've been trying to gather up info on it, but it's hard to come by. Seems like the people higher up are trying to keep it down. They don't want the public to know they just set a Death Eater free."

Harry was still in disbelief. "The evidence… the evidence we had was overwhelming. There should have been absolutely no way he could have gotten out of it."

"And yet he did," Dean said grimly.

"Are you sure, Dean? I'm sure that if Malfoy really was set free, I'd hear something about parole, you know, as Head of the Auror's Office and everything."

Dean sighed exaggeratedly. "Yes, Harry. It absolutely was Malfoy I saw."

Harry opened his mouth to ask Dean again (for the seventh time) if he was really sure when a knock at the door interrupted him.

"Um, Mr. Potter, sir?" A woman's head popped in through the crack of the ajar door.

"Yes, Susan?"

"A Mr. Alan Davids is here to see you."

Dean gave Harry a triumphant I-told-you-so look. Harry ignored him and merely said, "Okay, Susan, show him in."

When Susan left, Dean looked at Harry and smirked widely. "Yeah, yeah," Harry said, cutting Dean off before he could say anything. "You told me so."

"I sure did. Anyway, I'll get out of your way, since I'm sure this will be a very important meeting for you. Probably extensive parole restrictions and security charms to discuss. I best be off."

Harry nodded. "Send Lavender my best."

"Will do," Dean said. He opened the door and then stopped. "Oh, by the way," he said turning to face Harry once more, "I heard about you and Ginny. Congratulations. Can't say I didn't see it coming."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, right?"

Dean just smiled back. "See you later, mate."

With Dean gone, Harry tried to collect his thoughts quickly before his meeting with Mr. Davids. Malfoy? Free? Harry ran his hand through his hair, confused. What the hell was he going to tell Ron? Ron was going to have a fit. And there was the problem with Hermione. A couple weeks ago she had started asking some disturbing questions. What if she…?

A soft knocking at the door jerked Harry out of his thoughts. "Come in," Harry said, composing himself.

The door swung open, and a smiling Mr. Davids walked through the door. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," he said, extending his hand.

"Please, call me Harry," Harry said, shaking Mr. Davids' outstretched hand. The man had a firm grip. "Have a seat," Harry added, gesturing at the blue squishy chairs in front of his desk.

Mr. Davids wordlessly sat down and placed his briefcase on Harry's desk. As he opened it, he started speaking. "As I'm sure you just heard from Mr. Thomas, Draco Malfoy has been set free. I'm here to discuss his terms of parole with you."

Harry stared blankly at Mr. Davids. "How do you know De… Mr. Thomas?"

"As you will see from this paperwork," Mr. Davids continued, ignoring Harry's question, "Mr. Malfoy has been granted minimum security based on good behaviour while in Azkaban. Mid-level security charms are to be placed on Malfoy Manor. Mr. Malfoy is not to do any Dark Magic in the next three months. He is to check in with his parole Auror every week until his three-month parole is over."

Harry looked at the stack of papers in front of him. "Right…" Harry said. "Wait. Minimum security?"

Mr. Davids nodded. "Yes, sir."

"On good behaviour?" Harry repeated.

Mr. Davids smiled benignly. "Why, yes, Mr. Potter. I just said so. And it's all on the forms, if you'd like."

"How?!" Harry was completely, and utterly confused now.

"Good behaviour."

"But… but… He's bloody Draco Malfoy!" Harry exploded. "Do I need to remind you of what he did during the war? He was a Death Eater for the love of Merlin! He killed innocent people. He tortured Muggles! And he's on parole?! And minimum security parole? What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

Mr. Davids looked over his glasses at Harry. There was a very uncomfortable pause. Harry tried to hold Mr. Davids' gaze, but finally, Mr. Davids' stern look made Harry break eye contact.

"Harry," Mr. Davids said finally, "I think we both know that is not completely true."

Harry gave Mr. Davids' a questioning glance. When Mr. Davids said nothing else, Harry sighed and nodded. "All right then. I'll assign someone to Malfoy's case."

"I'd like it to be you," Mr. Davids said.

"Fine," Harry said.

"Are there any more questions?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. Thank you."

"No," Mr. Davids said, rising to leave. "Thank you."

"Wait," Harry said. "What…" Harry swallowed, unsure if he should ask this. This man was a complete stranger. How could he possibly know anything? And yet… "What should I tell Ron?" Harry asked finally.

Mr. Davids smiled softly at Harry. "You know what to tell him, Harry. You don't need me to tell you that."

x x x

"What did you call me in here for, Harry?"

"Shut the door. And, you probably should sit down."

Ron plopped into one of the squishy chairs. "I love these things." He fell back and closed his eyes briefly. A few seconds of silence passed, and Ron opened one eye to look at Harry. "Well, mate? Is something wrong?" When Harry didn't immediately respond, Ron opened both eyes and leaned forward. "Harry? You're worrying me, mate. What's the matter?"

Harry bit his lip. "They let him go."

"What?" Ron was confused. "Let who go?"

"Malfoy. They let him go, on minimum security."

Ron stared.

"The Ministry's kept it quiet, and I just found out about it an hour ago." Harry glanced up at Ron. "I know… I know this is bad news. It's bad for all of us. The question now is what we're going to do about it."

Ron clenched his jaw. "What do you think I'm going to do about it?" His voice was even, but Harry knew Ron was about to blow.

"Nothing rash." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "I know you, Ron. This isn't good news, and you'll probably do something stupid. So please, for the love of Merlin, promise me you won't do anything stupid. Just… don't do anything. Leave Malfoy be."

"What if he comes…?"

"He won't. You know he won't. He's not that daft."

Harry watched Ron closely. Ron seemed to relax a bit. "Right."

"I really… I really don't think there's anything to worry about Ron," Harry said. Was there, really? "Malfoy would hardly be stupid enough to go looking for Hermione and Hermione… well…"

Ron nodded. "You're right."

"I just thought you should know," Harry added.

"Thanks, mate." Ron shifted uneasily in his chair. "But… I think it's best we don't take any chances. Let's not tell Hermione."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not tell Hermione?"

"Promise me, Harry," Ron said a little more forcefully.

Harry sighed. "All right, Ron. I promise."

AN: Hello, all. It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, yes, with finals and papers, I didn't have much free time to even THINK about this story. But yes, here is another chapter. This story is fundamentally changing from what I had initially planned it to be, but I think it's much better this way. So! Hermione's having second thoughts about her life, we finally really get to see Draco, and Ron and Harry are hiding something from Hermione. What is it? Why are they doing it? Hmmm...

Thanks to tankbbg and figalicious for the reviews on the last chapter. And it does seem everyone is in on it, doesn't it? Well, we'll see soon. Review!!! and you'll see sooner. xP