Chapter 26

Draco yawned, exhausted. Hermione snuggled up to him, pulling the blankets over them both.

It was only around 3pm by this point, but the two fell asleep anyways. They were on a very wonky schedule. Then again, no school, and no work as of yet…all they had to worry about was the trial, and no matter how weird their schedule, that was going to be a headache.

It was dark by the time Hermione woke up. She was starving. She looked over at the still sleeping Draco, his hair a mess. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, and he stirred.

He rubbed his eyes and asked in a rough voice, "What time is it?"

"About 10."

"AM or PM?"

"Does it matter? Come on, I'll make some food."

She started to move over him to get out of the bed. He reached out and held her in place above him, hands at her waist. He pushed her back down and rolled over on top of her, the sheets tangling around them, separating them.

She blinked. "What?"

"Not so fast." He smiled. "How about some 'pillow talk?"

She just blinked again, confused.

"What…do you have something you want to talk about? You can talk in the kitchen, you know…" She was really hungry.

He laughed, and she felt the rumble of it in his chest pressed against her. "I'm not letting you go until I set a few things straight."

"Why? What's wrong?" Hermione couldn't help feeling self-conscious. What did he need to set straight? Was it about…

"It's about what you said before….at the cabin?"

She felt her heart sink. Yep. Of course. Why was he going into that? He just loved to make her embarrassed…

"Yeah…" She said quietly, averting her eyes.

"Well…did you mean it, really?"

Ok, here was the chance to take back the embarrassment of letting that slip. But she did love him, then and now. But it was so soon…she must have seemed ridiculous.

She mustered up her courage, closed her eyes, and said, "Yes. I…do love you. I'm sorry. I know it's childish to say it so soon…I mean, we don't even have a definition for our relationship…but I couldn't have slept with you if I didn't love you; that's just what I believe…" She was rambling. Great.

He kissed her, just the barest brush of his lips on hers.

"I love you…" He whispered, low enough that she hardly heard it.

Her heart thumped in her chest. "W…what?"

"You heard me." He said, obviously not about to repeat it. "And, don't you dare go worrying, as you always do, and wondering if I'm just saying that because you said it. I've had a while to think about it. I mean it. I want to stick around with you if this trial goes right…"

She was completely dumbstruck. What he said was so sweet, more so than she thought she'd ever hear out of him. He loved her, too? And he told her? It seems like something he wouldn't say often or frivolously, so she cherished the moment.

Then there was the mention of the trial…what would she do, now, if he ended up in Azkaban afterall? Well, after sending Harry howlers every day for the rest of his life….

She would be crushed. It almost would have been better if they didn't love each other; if this was just a fling brought on by the hardships of the war. But as it was…

She was so happy right then, and so very scared at the same time.

***

The two of them sat at the small kitchen table, enjoying the microwave meals Hermione had prepared. Easier than wandworked food, even. Draco was too hungry to complain about the muggle food, which Hermione was grateful for.

That was when Hermione remembered something.

"The Prophet!" she cried, and jumped up.

"What?"

"We were out, so the owl probably dropped it in the bushes! I have to find it; I told Ginny I would be there!"

And with that she fled out the front door, her wand lighted for her search.

Draco stared after her. He decided he would be most useful cleaning up, and proceeded to wash the trays the dinners were in. The water made them fall apart, and Draco was confused. Cardboard trays don't exist in the wizarding world, afterall.

Hermione came back in looking rather pale, slamming the front door.

Draco looked up from the mush in the kitchen sink.

"What…?"

Then he saw that she was carrying two things- one newspaper and an envelope.

"When it rains it pours. Now I have to read the obituaries and find out the trial date."

She moved off into the living room. Draco dried off his hands on a towel and followed. He couldn't keep the worried look off his face.

Her brow was wrinkled, and she was staring at the letter when Draco entered the room. He sat down by her on the couch, fidgeting as she read.

"What? What does it say?"

She looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, she read.

Mr. Draco Malfoy,

Due to accusations of the crime of being a death eater, including crimes of murder and torture using unforgivable curses, you are scheduled to appear at the Ministry of Magic at 13:00, on the 16 of June. Punishment of these crimes, if proven guilty, include a minimum of 20 years imprisonment at Azkaban prison.

She cut off. "That's all the important bits."

"The 16th!? That doesn't give us much time…what's today's date?"

After everything that had been happening, Hermione wasn't even sure anymore, and hadn't checked recently. She looked at the Prophet on her lap.

"The 13th. For the next hour, anyways." She looked up at Draco, slightly panicked. "So…that gives us tomorrow, the next day, and then half a day."

Draco nodded, looking down at the carpet. Hermione grabbed his hand. She didn't know what else to say. She had her testimony- that was about it.

"Maybe…Ron was there when Harry had his visions- he can back up my story, at least. But I'm not sure anyone can use visions as evidence, except for the Chosen One, of course…

Draco just looked disbelieving.

He was right. If Harry wasn't mature enough to help her out despite being angry with the situation, then what made her think Ron would? No, Ron probably didn't even know that she was trying to help Draco…or that he had spent the last few nights at her house…ah, crap.

She let out a deep breath, eyes searching the room as if she hoped to find a clue there. Her mind was a million miles away, pouring over all the possible ways out of this mess. None came to mind.

"Harry's it. I'm a friend of the chosen one; one of the few who worked in the secret mission to stop Voldemort." Draco glanced her way, but tried not to cringe again. "But that might not be enough. We need him. I just have to try my best to change his mind when he visits later…thank you, Ginny, for that."

Draco scoffed. "Right. I'm supposed to somehow call a truce with him, and that may make him stop being angry with you, but it doesn't meant he'll help me out. He's made his feelings on the matter clear: I belong in Azkaban."

"He said he didn't think you deserved to be there…"

"Yeah, he said not for life, but he defiantly wants me to suffer for what I did." Draco avoided her eyes. "Actually, that's probably about right…but I don't know if I could survive Azkaban…"

Hermione didn't want to admit it, but she felt that he was right about that. Draco had become someone precious to her, but she wasn't fooling herself about who and what he was. He just wasn't the kind of person who could be relied upon to be brave, to fight on even when things got tough…to survive Azkaban, when he felt that he did in fact do many wrong things…

He was cunning, and he was not afraid to do what he needed to survive, even if it was questionable. He was a Slytherin. But, redeemingly, he was also sickened by the suffering of others (at least now that he had seen it all close up), had a sense of humor, and was in love with her. She could explain all this, though, and it wouldn't be enough for her friends to accept this. This was a matter of a deep, reciprocal hate that had set on from the first year of Hogwarts and lasted seven years…