In Your Defence

There was no mistaking the look in Malfoy's widened eyes. It was fear, surprise, and distaste all rolled into one. Harry thought he could understand the surprise – this was the right thing to do, and Malfoy wouldn't have been expecting that one, would he? – and the distaste – I don't like you much, either – and he was almost relieved by them. For a split second, it was like nothing has changed, until he noticed the fear.

Fear.

Was Malfoy afraid of him?

Malfoy didn't even hold his gaze for more than three seconds. He ducked his head and didn't look up again, but Harry kept looking right at him, taking in every detail. It had been a shock to see him for the first time since the Battle. He looked thinner and more pale than he had then, and shaken by his time in Azkaban. His hands were cuffed behind him. Being locked up in a cell with Dementors feeding off his happy memories had never been something Harry would have wished upon the Slytherin, and it made him uneasy to imagine what Malfoy had gone through. Looking at him, he couldn't help but remember Bellatrix and Sirius. They had had different kinds of madness: Sirius' an instability that was mostly controlled, Bellatrix's one that ran wild – but it had been madness all the same, induced or increased by Azkaban.

Harry wondered what was going on in Malfoy's mind right now. What does he think I'm here for? He wished he could see the prisoner's eyes, but Malfoy was staring at the floor. His hair had grown longer in the past year, and because it wasn't slicked back neatly, it fell into his eyes, shielding his expression. He didn't even look up as he was pushed into the chair that stood in the center of the room. The cuffs were unlocked from his wrists, but shackles rose from the chair and bound him into place. Malfoy didn't even react, but Harry shivered at the memories this woke in him. Why does it always have to be Courtroom Ten?

It took a while for the trial to start. A few members of the Wizengamot had excused themselves between Narcissa's departure and Malfoy's arrival, and some were a little late coming back. Harry didn't mind. The first two trials had lasted hours, put together, and he was weary. He focused on Malfoy, wondering if he would be able to help him at all. It couldn't be harder than Lucius', for whom he had hardly been able to offer any mitigating circumstances.

He wasn't quite sure why he was so intent on saving the Malfoy family. Narcissa, he knew why. It wasn't just that he was repaying a debt. He had seen a spark of humanity in her, a love for her son that was so great she was willing to defy her Dark Lord for it. That love was worth saving. As for Draco... He could understand that, too. But Lucius... Harry wasn't even sure he wanted the man to walk free. He was bound to be more convincing in his defense of the son.

The last few members of the Wizengamot shuffled back in, and the room was silent. Kingsley, sitting in the very centre of the first row of seats that the judging wizards were perched upon, spoke. And the trial began.

"Trial number three-zero-one-eight-two-eight-one, part three. Draco Malfoy, resident at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. Due to the extremely severe nature of the accusations, the accused was held in a high-security cell in the prison of Azkaban while awaiting his trial. Interrogators: Kingsley Kaden Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, and Mary Lenora Rosenfeld, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribe: Theodore Randall Cale. Witness for the defence..." Kingsley looked straight at him, his expression grave. "Harry James Potter."

Malfoy didn't raise his head, but he stiffened in surprise. Harry could hardly believe it. Had Malfoy really thought he would let the one who had saved his life go rot in prison without lifting a finger to help? Or had he thought that Harry was there to testify against him?

As soon as the trial began, Harry could tell it was going to be awful. It wasn't even a trial, it was a mockery of one. Worse than Lucius', worse than Narcissa's whom he had barely managed to defend despite the fact that she had saved his life. Harry gritted his teeth through the entire thing because it wasn't his turn to speak. The list of accusations was horribly long, so many ways to rephrase the words torture and murder and kidnapping, and Malfoy sat so still and pale throughout the reading that Harry was sure he didn't understand a word of it. He only knew that he was facing an entire room of people who wanted to see him die. The Wizengamot demanded a life sentence in Azkaban. When Harry refused to plead guilty, Malfoy didn't even react.

Then there were the witnesses. That was the worst part, without a doubt. Harry's heart sank when he saw the sheer number of people called forward to say something about Malfoy. Malfoy went even whiter, if that was possible, and didn't look any of them in the eye. The things they had to say sent shivers crackling down Harry's spine. It wasn't any worse than what he heard about Lucius, but this was Malfoy for Merlin's sake, he was still... he was practically still a kid.

When it was Harry's turn to speak, finally, finally, Malfoy raised his head. The fear was back, the apprehension, but everything else had been erased. Harry couldn't even find the dislike he was used to seeing in there, and that, more than anything, was what unsettled him. What was he afraid of, for Merlin's sake? He pushed the thought away and looked at the Wizengamot steadily.

"I know Draco Malfoy," he said. "I met him when we were eleven, before we ever got to Hogwarts. I instantly disliked him, and that dislike lasted all throughout the six years we spent together at Hogwarts. He was arrogant and elitist, and yes, he was prejudiced. He believed pure-bloods were worth more than Muggle-borns or half-bloods. I can't deny that. It's the truth.

"And he has done the things he is accused of, as far as I know. I won't try to deny that, either. I don't doubt that he has hurt people. Muggle-borns, and others. All these witnesses? They were probably telling the truth. But that doesn't make Malfoy the heartless, cold-blooded killer you make him out to be. He isn't one. I can vouch for that.

"Draco Malfoy showed me, on two separate occasions, that he never wanted anyone to die."

The Wizengamot stirred. Harry saw one witch lean in to mutter something to her neighbour. Kingsley remained impassive, already aware of where this was going. Harry held the entire court's attention.

"The first time," he said, "was last year. I was on the run with my friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. One night, I made the..." The stupid, stupid, stupid decision to risk everything... "… the mistake of saying Voldemort's name, which was under a Taboo at the time. We hardly had time to react before we were caught by Snatchers, but Hermione thought to cast a spell to make it more difficult to identify me. A Stinging Hex, as it were. On my face." He raised a hand to his forehead. "It stretched the scar, making it hardly recognisable.

"The Snatchers recognised Hermione, and that was how they realised I was probably Harry Potter. All three of us were brought to Malfoy Manor, where the Malfoys and Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange were to call the Dark Lord. But they couldn't take the risk until they were a hundred percent sure." He cut his eyes to Malfoy, who looked back at him steadily. "They asked Draco to identify me.

"He knew it was me. But he refused to tell them. He said, 'I can't be sure.' Which might have been plausible, considering the state I was in, but we'd known each other for six years. He knew. He had to know. He was also reluctant to identify my friends. He said, 'Maybe,' and 'It could be.' When asked if the girl in front of him, a girl he had spent six years at school with, was Hermione Granger, he said, 'Maybe.'" Harry looked back at the Wizengamot. "Hermione Granger is Muggle-born.

"The second time," he went on quickly, drilling his words into the Wizengamot, "is something everyone has heard of. Everyone knows someone, or knows someone who knows someone, who was at the Battle that night. There were hundreds of us in the Great Hall. They all witnessed what happened. I lost my wand in the chaos; it may have been knocked out of my pocket as I made my way to the centre of the hall, where Voldemort was." He tried not to enjoy the way the wizards in front of him flinched every time he said the name. "I realised it too late, and was going to face off Voldemort without a wand. I would have died. But Malfoy gave me the wand he was carrying. He threw himself between Voldemort and me to give me the means of defending myself." He was silent for a moment. "I won't pretend to know what his motivations were. I don't know why he did it. All I know is that he saved my life... and he made our victory possible. The wand he gave me is the wand that killed Voldemort."

He glanced at Malfoy, who was looking down at the floor again, fixing a spot on the ground with a strange intensity.

"He may have done terrible things, but Draco Malfoy is not a cold-blooded killer. Everything he did was under coercion. Voldemort told him that his family would die if he didn't do as he was told. How many of you would have chosen differently? It wasn't even a choice. No one could just sit by without doing anything as their family was killed. He's sevemteen years old. He has his whole life ahead of him. You can't just take that away because he tried to protect his family." He fell silent. "That's all I have to say," he said finally, and stepped back.

"All the witnesses have been heard," Kingsley said in his deep, calm voice. "Does the Wizengamot have any requests or questions?"

The room was silent.

"Then let us proceed. Having listened to all the witnesses brought forward, who here is in favour of convicting Draco Lucius Malfoy for..." He paused, grimaced, and looked down at the parchment in front of him to read out the long list of charges.

Harry's stomach rolled with disgust as he listened to them again.

"… and sentencing him to life in Azkaban?"

Harry's heart soared when no hand was immediately raised, but it only lasted a short moment. There was a lot of furious whispering. The Wizengamot seemed uneasy about something. A witch raised her hand, but it wasn't to cast a vote. She asked for permission to speak, which Kingsley granted with a nod of his head.

"Proposition that the charges be dropped and the sentence be lowered. The defendant should face in a new trial only charges of torture and manslaughter with mitigating circumstances. Ten to fifteen years."

There was a murmur of approval among the wizards surrounding her.

"Rejected," Kingsley said firmly. "Agreeing to your proposal would be declaring him not guilty of torture, one of the many charges he has faced today. The defendant will not reface charges that have already been debated today."

There was some more furious muttering. Kingsley let it last a few seconds, then raised a hand. Silence fell again.

"The Ministry proposes that the defendant and his parents, the two previously judged defendants, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, be sentenced together as the verdict has been similarly... difficult for all three."

He waved a hand, and Lucius and Narcissa were brought into the room. Malfoy looked at them, his expression unreadable.

"The suggestion is that the defendant be allowed to return home with his parents."

There was a flare of hope in Malfoy's expression at the word parents.

"However, Malfoy Manor would receive weekly visits from the Ministry and the family would be closely followed by the Auror Office for an undetermined duration, as well as having to pay a fine to be divided equally between the damaged Castle of Hogwarts, the Ministry, and St Mungo's. All in favour?"

Kingsley hardly had to wait as the hands went up, eager to please the new Minister. If the Minister himself had judged important to attend and lead the trial, there had to be a reason.

"The Wizengamot agrees to the proposition. The Malfoy family will be fined 150,000 Galleons and will be confined to house arrest for a week or until the Auror Office and the Ministry have organised themselves for the monitoring of the Malfoys."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. The sum was staggering, but he didn't care. No price could be put on freedom. He looked at Malfoy, a smile coming naturally to his lips, but the other man didn't smile back. The chains had released him, but he didn't stand up. Harry watched his expression closely. There was bewilderment there. Distrust. And... anger. Malfoy was taut, tense, and his eyes shot daggers at Harry.

"You're free," Harry said, and he was surprised to hear gladness and pride in his voice. "You'll never go back to Azkaban. Ever."

"I know." There was an edge to Malfoy's voice, as though he resented it.

Harry didn't like it. "I just saved your life, you know."

"Only because I saved yours," Malfoy said bitingly. "I don't need your heroics, Potter. Save it for the Prophet."

Harry would have replied – something along the lines of You ungrateful little swine or maybe Why did you save my life if you hate me so much? came to mind – , but when Narcissa stepped forward to embrace her son, he looked away and said nothing.

"Draco," he heard Narcissa whisper. "I was so, so afraid for you..."

"It's all right," Malfoy said quietly. The edge in his tone was gone; his voice was a hollow whisper. "It's going to be all right."

Harry could pretend not to be listening, but he couldn't pretend not to have heard the way Malfoy's voice softened and grew tender when he spoke the words.