Hello, everybody! This chapter is long-ish, so I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Chapter Thirty-nine
Anthea opened my cell door and greeted me with a metal tray of food. "Happy trial morning."
"It's morning?" I asked, taking the tray from her. "How can you tell?" I glanced out the barred window at the constant grey cloud cover.
"Not sure if I should make fun of the fact that you can't go outside and I can, or if I should just leave it be."
"Best to just leave it be."
I took the tray over to the cot and took a seat, placing the tray on my lap.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Anthea asked, sitting next to me.
"I'm always okay," I sighed, taking a bite of the slice of bread on the tray.
"Draco," she said, a note of warning in her voice. "Are you. Going to be. Okay?"
I wanted to tell her that I was terrified. Terrified of reliving it all. Terrified that they would still say I was guilty and throw me to the Dementors. But the words didn't even make it to my throat. Anthea didn't need to have my problems in her head.
After a moment, Anthea sighed. "They're gonna come and get you in a few hours. Not enough time for lunch, so you'll be hungry," she explained, getting up and moving towards the door. "Gonna miss you when they let you out."
I nearly choked on the water I was sipping. I coughed a little and put the cup down. "You think they'll actually let me out?"
Anthea stopped and turned to face me. "Of course I do. I think you're being honest."
She smiled at me before opening the door and exiting the cell, leaving me more frozen than usual.
She actually believed me. She didn't think I was a Death Eater.
The fact filled me with excitement, but I was more relieved than anything else. I was always glad to see her, but whenever she came 'round, there was always a thorn of doubt that she was tricking me somehow. That she was being nice to me out of some sense of obligation. Knowing that Anthea actually believed me brought some sense of security and even confidence about the trial.
The Aurors came for me a few hours after Anthea's visit, just as promised. They bound my wrists and dragged me from the cell, taking me on the same path they did last time. They Apparated me away from Azkaban and we appeared on the same Muggle street.
The sun was out in full force, and I closed my eyes, enjoying it as long as possible before they pulled me through the crowds of commuting Muggles. They forced me through the same door and into the same lift in the Ministry, and it went to the same Department, but they led me deeper than before. They guided me passed the rows of small doors and to one larger door.
The door opened and they forced me through, bringing me to a large, round room that had tiers of seats filled with men and women dressed in either maroon or black robes. I didn't recognize any of them, but there were three people that sat near the door that I did recognize.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together looking down at me. Harry and Hermione were smiling encouragingly, but Ron looked uncomfortable, like he would rather be literally anywhere else.
My surprise at seeing them made my steps stumble, and I tripped over nothing. Luckily, the Aurors kept me from falling, so I don't think anyone noticed.
The Aurors threw me into the chair that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the circle. They chained my wrists to the armrests of the chair and left through the same door we came through.
A older man sat behind a pulpit in deeply black attire, and he looked down at me like I was animal waste. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you stand accused of being a Death Eater, and that you willingly and in total awareness of your actions, joined the Dark Lord and his army even after you were given an opportunity to turn away. Do you deny these charges?"
"Yes," I muttered, my nerves a what was to come making the confidence that Anthea gave me completely disappear.
And now Harry, Ron and Hermione were here. They were going to see everything. Exactly what I wanted to avoid. They were trying to be encouraging-or at least Harry and Hermione were-but it only made me more nervous.
"Do you deny being a Death Eater and aiding the Dark Lord in his plot to bring down the Wizarding World and the Ministry?" the man interrogated.
"Already answered these questions," I reminded. "Why are you repeating the same things that I already answered with Veritaserum in me?"
"There are some among us who believe that you used Dark Arts magic to overcome its effects," the man explained.
"Without my wand? I might be a Seventh Year, but we never covered wandless magic," I countered.
"But you admitted to having been trained as a Death Eater, yes?"
"Yeah."
"We don't know what they taught you, and you have refused to tell us."
"Actually, I did," I said. "Basic Dark Arts magic like the Unforgivable Curses."
"I hope you don't mind if we check that ourselves."
There was a hungry challenge in his voice that told me what was coming. A woman in white stalked closer to me with her wand drawn. My first instinct said that she was going to kill me, but I strained to push down the paranoia and let her do what she needed. It would get me out of Azkaban and into the sun again.
She gently placed the tip of her wand at my temple and left it there for a second before drawing away, a bright, white strand dangling from her wand. The lights in the room dimed slightly as the witch flicked her wand into the air. The white strand that was my memory flew into the air, but the witch raised her wand again and stopped it. My memory hung in the air for a moment before she waved her wand. The white strand expanded and grew to form a picture of the maze from the Triwizard Tournament.
The witch lowered her wand, and the memories started. Potter appeared with Cedric Diggory, Lucius dragged me home, and I met You-Know-Who himself. It all played out as if it was happening for the first time. Everything from training as a Death Eater to the Battle of Hogwarts revealed itself. Even the nightmares I had over the last three years were shown.
I glanced towards Harry, Ron and Hermione to gauge their reactions. I pleaded that they wouldn't be looking at me in disgust or horror, but why wouldn't they? I caused everything they went through.
Harry's eyebrows were drawn together, and his lips were pressed into a hard line, but Hermione's expression was unreadable. I wasn't sure if she was shocked or if she felt nothing. Ron looked like he wanted to run and hide. His skin turned a deeper shade of green every time I screamed. But when the memories arrived to when I healed Hermione after Bellatrix had tortured her, his eyes widened, and he looked down at me, his eyebrows steadily rising into his hairline.
I thought it would be a relief to have these memories out in the open, but it wasn't. It made my stomach hurt and my heart race. I was reliving all of it. All of the pain and the fear. I wanted to shrink and disappear, clasp my hands around my head and scream; I wanted the memories to stop, but it was forever until they did.
The Battle of Hogwarts ended, and Madam Pomphrey healed me. I sat with Harry, Ron and Hermione, laughing until the Aurors arrested me. Then the memory of Azkaban faded to white before disappearing, the lights coming back up as it did.
It was a while before anyone spoke, but eventually, the man behind the pulpit cleared his voice and stuttered, "Th-those in favour of convicting Draco Malfoy of being a Death Eater, and that he willingly and in total awareness of his actions, joined the Dark Lord and his army even after he was given an opportunity to turn away? And may I remind you that if convicted, Mister Malfoy will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban Prison."
I winced internally, expecting an overwhelming majority to convict me for all I've caused, but only one or two people raised their hands. Those who did looked down at me with disgust and a superior lift of their chins.
"Those in favour of releasing Draco Malfoy and clearing him of all charges?"
The rest of the room raised their hands. Everyone except for those previous few gradually raised their hands.
My heart leaped to my throat. How could they think I was innocent of anything when even I didn't? I caused it all. Why were they voting to let me go?
"Cleared of all charges," the man announced, banging a piece of stone on his pulpit. "Mister Malfoy, you are free to go, and you may pick up your clothes and wand on the way out. An Auror will be there to Aparate you home."
The Aurors who had chained me to the chair approached me again and unlocked the shackles, giving me odd looks.
I stood numbly and wandered towards the door, hardly believing that I wasn't going back to Azkaban and Anthea.
"Hey, Malfoy!" Ron's voice called. I turned to see the three friends racing down the stairs. "You're not leaving without us, are you?"
I stared at them. They wanted to come with me?
"Of course he's not," Granger answered, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I don't get a choice, do it?" I asked as I leaned away from her touch. It's not that I minded it, but it was overwhelming after the trial.
"Not if we've got anything to say about it," Harry said, moving towards the door. "Lets go get your stuff."
I followed the three of them out the door and found an Auror waiting for us. He stood with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. "I'm here to take you home. And I'll guide you to where you need to go to pick up your things."
The man turned and walked down the corridor and Harry, Ron, Hermione and I followed. We passed several small doors and turned down several paths in the maze of corridors that was almost as confusing as Azkaban. Eventually, the Auror guided us to a door that had no label and was just as nondescript as every other door we passed. He opened it for us and waved us in.
It was a small room that only had a long desk with a short and rounder man sitting behind it. He was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet that had a photograph of me on the front page, saying that my trial was today. "Name?" he demanded, taking a sip of coffee.
"Draco Malfoy," I answered.
The man choked on his coffee and leaned forward, coughing up a lung. He dropped the paper and looked up at me wide-eyed. "They let you go? Why?"
"Just get his things, Pangborn," the Auror guiding us ordered.
"Uh. Yeah. Hang on a tick," Pangborn said.
Pangborn cleared his throat and retreated behind a door that he left open. Beyond the door were multiple shelves and rows of boxes with different names. I thought it would take him a while to find mine considering that he'd have to go all the way back to the "M"s, but he returned after a minute or two with a small, grey container labeled "Malfoy, Draco Lucius".
"Just one set of clothes and two wands," Pangborn announced, drawing each item out of the box and placing them on the counter.
I took my ruined suit-that I was probably going to burn later because it still reeked of blood and battle-and my wand, but I left the other wand. My mother's wand. "You can keep that one."
"Why?" Pangborn questioned, giving me a suspicious look.
"Not mine," I answered. "It's my mother's."
I didn't wait for a response and turned my back on Narcissa's wand, walking out of the office.
I waited for the others to come out, and the Auror shut the door behind them. "Draco, are you sure you don't want you mother's wand?" Hermione asked, coming uncomfortably close.
"Yeah. Why would I?"
"It's a piece of her," she clarified, lowering her voice.
"I don't need any reminders," I responded, cutting off our conversation.
The Auror guided us through the Department of Mysteries and to the lifts. He called one and waited for us to enter before ordering the lift to take us to the main level of the Ministry.
Now it was time for me to ask the questions. "How did you three even get into my trial, anyway?"
"I pulled some strings," Harry answered. "I figured that since I've actually got pull now, why not use it?"
Yeah, but why for me? I wanted to ask him, but the lift door clanged open, revealing a swarm of men and women with cameras. Their camera bulbs flashed one after the other, blinding me.
"Before any of you ask him any questions," the Auror announced, quieting the crowd, "Mister Draco Malfoy had been released, and all charges have been dropped."
His words threw the paparazzi into a frenzy. Their cameras flashed even faster than before and they bombarded me with a wave of sound that turned out to be shouted questions:
"Mister Malfoy, how do you feel about being released?"
"Malfoy, how do you feel about you parents being on the run, and do you think that they'll be on the run for long?"
"Why do you think that the Ministry held you in Azkaban for so long before letting you stand trial?"
Harry leaned towards me. "Just keep your head down to avoid the flashes and don't say anything."
"Should've known your fame would come in handy one day," I muttered, but if Potter heard, he didn't respond.
The Auror lead us through the swarming crowds of photographers and journalists and into one of the fireplaces that served as the entrances and exits for the Ministry workers. The same green flame flared up around us, and I instinctively flinched. With everything fresh in my mind again, I thought it was a Killing Curse.
But the flame spat us out the same doorway the Aurors brought me in. The Auor guiding us lifted his wand and waved it, Aparating us away. We reappeared outside the gates of my family's manor house.
"When you were arrested, the Ministry sent a team of Aurors to inspect the house," the man explained, approaching the gates with his wand raised. "They looked for signs of Dark Magic and...clean up."
My mind flashed to the goblins' slaughter and the trail of blood left by my shoes.
The Auror waved his wand back and forth in front of the gates. The air around the entire property mistified before bursting like a smoke-filled bubble. The mist of magic dispersed into the air and the gates swung open.
The Auror gestured for us to enter. "Home sweet home. The Ministry will want to keep in contact with you for a while, by the way, so be sure to tell them if you move or something." He then lifted his wand and Disapparated.
The three of us stood silently for a moment. I didn't know what to do. Socially, I should invite the three in, but I didn't want to enter the house, so I doubted that they wanted to.
"You're rich, right?" Ron suddenly voiced,
"I guess," I muttered.
"So I assume you have food in the house," he added.
"If it's still good after months," I said.
"Ron'll eat it even if it's gone bad," Granger mocked.
"Then you want to come in?" I offered.
"Sure," Harry accepted.
The four of us walked along the path and into the house. The foyer was almost just as I left it. All the furniture was the unmoved, and the blank walls were still white, but the trail of blood from the goblins' massacre was gone.
"So, I am actually starving," Harry said.
The House Elves suddenly came to mind. They were left alone all these months. "Well, I don't know how to cook, but the House Elves do. If they stayed, that is."
"Of course they stayed," Hermione answered. "Those poor creatures are forced to stay at the home of their 'masters'."
"Then let's find them and get some food that's not from prison." I started to wander towards the kitchen where the House Elves always lingered. "I'm starving, too. Last I ate was hours before the trial."
"Seriously?" Harry wondered as he followed me.
"Yeah. And it was minimalistic meals, too," I said. "A piece of bread, a cup of water and mashed potatoes. Same thing every meal."
"Ron would die," Harry laughed.
I glanced behind me to see Ron and Hermione walking very close together. "Especially because he'd be without her. Always knew they'd end up together. Apparently I'm a master at predicting who will end up with who."
Harry smirked a little as we arrived in the kitchen, but it was empty. No House Elves milled about making food, and no Death Eaters stood idly eating or conversing.
But it wasn't long until a small voice greeted us. "Young Master Malfoy?" a pale and recognizable House Elf creeped slowly out of hiding. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Loft. It's me," I answered.
Loft gasped and ran forward with his arms out towards me, but he stopped a few feet short. He lowered his arms back down to his sides and stared at the floor. "When Loft overheard the Death Eaters saying that you were taken to the cellar, Loft heard much screaming come from below. Loft feared that his young master had died."
"I'm okay," I comforted, looking down at him. "Is there anyone else here?"
"Yes, sir. Loft and the others were ordered to stay out of the way while the Aurors of the Ministry searched the house," the Elf answered.
The remaining House Elves appeared, some Apparating, others crawling out of small hiding places.
"I can't believe your family has this many House Elves," Hermione whispered.
I turned to her to see her looking around at all of the Elves with her eyebrows drawn together in pity. "It's a big house," I explained. "And it's not like Lucius would clean it himself." I turned back to Loft. "Is there any food in the house. These three and I are starving."
"Yes, sir. Loft and the other Elves kept busy with the usual chores they are ordered to do."
I turned back to Ron. "What do you want to eat?"
Weasley looked a bit shocked that I was asking him, so he shrugged. "Whatever they want to make."
"Okay, well, I'm going to get some actual clothes on and probably burn these things." I held out the remains of the suit I wore during the Battle. "Think you can survive five minutes alone?"
"We'll be fine. Go ahead and change," Potter permissed.
I left the three in the kitchen and retreated into my old room. I closed the door, my hand habitually moving to the lock, but I stopped with my hand on the deadbolt.
I didn't need to lock it anymore. The only ones in the house were Harry, Ron, Hermione and me. I didn't need to lock the door anymore.
My room looked largely untouched. Everything was the same except that the wardrobe's doors were open and my clothes looked like they were rooted through.
I dropped the ruined suit on my bed and grabbed a fresh one from the wardrobe. I gladly changed into it, finally getting rid of the Azkaban prison clothes. I looked myself over in the mirror for the first time in months. I was underweight and pale, but that was normal. My hair-which had grown past my ears-was in knots, and I was almost growing a beard.
I left my room, detangling my longer hair as I went. I arrived at the door of the kitchen, but whispered conversation reached my ears.
"...nervous about leaving him." It sounded like Potter.
"I'm not." That was definitely Weasley. "He'll be fine. He might need a haircut, but he'll be fine."
"But you saw everything." The last voice was Hermione's. "He looked like he wanted to kill himself. And what if he gets sick again?"
A while passed before Ron spoke. "Wonder if I can send a message to Mum. Ask to stay overnight."
"Might want to ask Draco first," Potter cautioned.
It lightened my mood to know that they cared enough to want to watch over me, but it was also another reminder that they knew everything.
"Ask me what?" I said, coming into the kitchen to find the three sitting down at the table.
The friends jumped and turned to me, though they tried to cover up their surprise.
"We wanted to know if it was okay if we stayed overnight with you," Harry asked.
"Yeah, that's fine," I answered, taking the last chair at the table. "There's plenty of room, obviously, but are you sure you want to stay here?" I glanced at Hermione.
"Yeah," she assured. "As long as its okay."
"And as long as she can cut you hair," Ron added. "She cut ours while we were on the run, and you need one desperately."
I passed my hand through my ear-length hair, his comment actually drawing a smile to my lips. "No argument here."
"Great. Now we just need to get a message to my mum about us staying here, so she doesn't have a coronary," Ron said.
"We can send her a fire message," I suggested.
"Sure," Ron agreed. "How?"
"Come on." I got up and moved towards the door, waiting for Ron to follow.
The goblins were slaughtered in the main parlour we would normally use. I never wanted to go in there again, so I led Ron passed it's doors and into a different one. I approached the fireplace and drew my wand, lighting a fire inside.
Energy coursed through me as the fire flared up. I hadn't used magic in months. It was amazing to use my wand again.
I stood back up and pulled out a piece of parchment from under the paperweight on top of the mantle. I picked up the inkwell and a quill and handed them to Ron. "Write the letter, fold it, write the address on the outside of the parchment and toss it in the fire," I instructed.
Weasley nodded and sat down in the nearby chair. He placed the parchment on the small table and unstopped the inkwell. He dipped the quill inside and began to write.
The letter took up the whole sheet of parchment, and when he was finished, he blew the ink dry and folded it, writing the address on the parchment. He got up and tossed it in the fire. "Hermione's going to cut your hair after our lunch-dinner," he ordered as the parchment burned.
I nodded as he started to make his way back to the kitchen.
I sat on a stool in the same parlour that Ron sent his fire message. Hermione walked in with a pair of scissors. She turned to Harry and looked at him sternly. "I thought I told you not to let me give anyone a haircut."
"No, you said not to let you give me a haircut again," Potter laughed.
"I'm just curious how Malfoy'll look bald," Ron added, making me jump.
"What?" I breathed as Weasley snickered, my heart jumping at the comment.
"I'm not going to make him bald," Hermione groaned as she came closer to me. "Hold still," she ordered, walking around to the back of me.
The cold metal of the scissors passed over the back of my neck, and I had to force myself not to flinch. For a brief moment, I thought it was Bellatrix's knife.
Several minutes passed by where the only sound was the snipping of Hermione's scissors. The dying fire flared up, growing brighter and hotter until a piece of paper shot out of the flames, fluttering down to the floor.
Hermione froze in her snipping and stared at the folded parchment on the floor.
"Ron," I called, getting his attention. "That's your response."
"Oh!" he shouted, going for the paper. "Sorry. Never sent a fire message before."
Hermione resumed cutting my hair as Ron silently read the message.
"Mum says its fine as long as we come home tomorrow night," Weasley announced.
"Good," I said as Hermione crossed in front of me and looked me over. "Now the only question is if you two," I gestured between Ron and Hermione, "want one room or two."
Weasley flushed a bright red, and Granger stuttered random letters that vaguely sounded like English. Potter, on the other hand, laughed wholeheartedly.
"T-two, definitely," Hermione stuttered.
"Okay," I laughed, feeling only partially guilty for making them so flustered.
"Your hair's done, jerk," Granger mocked with a hint of a smirk.
"Thanks," I said, getting up from the stool and running a hand through my short hair.
"Well, I'm exhausted," Ron voiced as he got up from his chair. "Show us where the rooms are?"
"Yeah," I muttered waving them towards the stairs.
"Wait. Hang on," Hermione called. "Aren't we gonna clean up?" She gestured to the pile of white hair that was littered around the stool.
"The House Elves can get it," I reminded, trying to remember that she was a MuggleBorn and unused to having House Elves.
"But they just cooked dinner for us," Granger argued.
"And they've also been without anyone in the house for months," I said. "They would rather clean up after us than sit around any longer."
Hermione still looked unsure. Remembering her earlier reactions to the mentions of my family's House Elves, she must be one of those House Elves rights activists. I never approved of how Lucius treated the Elves, but in all honesty, I never gave a second thought to whether or not I should free them. Hermione must think that the Elves hated working, but from what I've seen, they didn't.
"Look. The Elves have been idle for months because no one was here. But now there is someone here, and if we clean up instead of them, they might hurt themselves for being too slow. I've seen them do it, and you can't stop them once they start," I explained.
Granger gradually nodded and followed us towards the stairs, Harry behind her.
I guided the three friends upstairs and gestured to the endless hall of doors. "Pick a room. Just not the one with the double doors."
"Why not?" Potter asked.
"That's my parents' room, so if you really want to sleep in that bed…" I warned.
"Okay. Not going in there," Ron voiced, starting down the hall.
The three picked a room and they all said goodnight to each other and to me. They disappeared into their temporary rooms, and I retreated into mine.
I might be out of Azkaban with a new haircut and fresh clothes, but the grimy feeling of prison and the Battle still clung to my skin. I raced to my private bathroom and turned on the water in the tub as fast as I could, catching a glimpse of the Hermione's haircut in the mirror.
She did and excellent job at doing away with the knotted locks. It almost looked professional. It made me look less like Lucius.
I felt so much fresher after I had bathed and gotten rid of the bear that had started to grow. I was a little more like myself, now that all of the dirt was gone. I was even excited to sleep in my own bed again.
I dropped down into bed and quickly fell asleep, the emotional and physical exhaustion from being locked up with Dementors finally catching up with me.
I ran through my father's house, frantically looking for an exit. I didn't know why I was running or what I was running from, but I knew I had to leave.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I ran. Every door I tried to open was locked. If I lingered for longer than a second trying to pry the doors open, loud footsteps sounded, closing in on me rapidly. I raced from door to door, not caring where they led. Only thinking that they could be a way out.
At last a door opened, but it led me out to a balcony that was over two stories off of the ground.
I scoured my pockets for my wand, but it was missing. I could have sworn I brought it with me.
"Draco, wait," my father's voice called.
I looked back through the door of the balcony and found Lucius closing in on me, his large form blocking the door entirely.
"You need to stay," he said.
"I can't."
"You have to, or he will get us both."
I glanced at the ground far below, my anxiety calming slightly. "No. Not both."
Lucius drew his wand from his walking stick, baring his teeth, but I was over the edge of the balcony before he could say one word.
A hand caught my wrist as I fell, preventing me from reaching the ground. I looked up and found Mother holding onto me. She used all of her strength and pulled me back up and over the balcony railing.
Mother pushed me through the door and back inside the house. She closed the door that led to the balcony-and my escape-locking it tight. "You have to stay, Draco," she said, her calm words drugging me, stealing away my adrenaline-induced energy.
I was powerless to fight them. Lucius was stronger than me in magic, and Narcissa could force me to calm and accept whatever she said.
I had to stay.
I jolted awake, getting up from my bed as quick as I could. My chest was so tight that I couldn't breath, and my heart was beating so fast that it forced away each breath I took. My night clothes were sticking to my clammy skin. I needed air, and my room was much too suffocating.
I fled my room and ended up at the landing at the top of the stairs. I grasped the railing and eventually put my head down on it, its cool temperature settling my racing heart.
"Draco?" Granger's voice called.
I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder to find her standing in a tank top in the middle of the hall with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Can't sleep?" I asked.
"And neither could you by the looks of it." She came closer and leaned up against the railing with me. "Why not?"
I looked away from her. She saw all of the other nightmares. She didn't need to know this one, too. Especially because this one was the most terrifying dream I could remember.
"I had a nightmare," she muttered, gently massaging the wrist Bellatrix cut.
Her action made me instinctively glance down at my own scarred wrist, the curve of the scar sticking out of the end of the sleeve.
"Bellatrix is dead, you know," Hermione voiced, looking back up at me. "So you don't have to be scared of her anymore."
Was she talking more to me or herself?
"She is?" I wondered, though I already knew it was true. Bellatrix wouldn't run. She loved Voldemort too much to run.
Hermione hummed in confirmation, and we both fell quiet.
My mind drifted in and out of the memories of every Death Eater I've seen walk the halls of my house. People were held prisoner here, tortured here, killed here-myself included. Who was I kidding? I couldn't stay here. It wasn't a home anymore. It's a...Death Eater hub station.
"Is that what you think?" Granger said.
I blinked at her for a moment. "Sorry. Didn't realise I said it out loud."
"It's fine," she assured. "And you don't have to stay here, you know."
I glanced at her, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to where this conversation was going. "How do you mean?"
"You can stay at Ron's house. That's where Harry and I are staying right now. Well, we can ask for you to stay there anyways."
"That's nice of you, but you don't have to," I said.
I wanted so badly to stay anywhere but here, but I didn't need to burden her or anyone else with my problems. It was over now. I didn't need or deserve help.
We were both quiet again for a while. Why couldn't I think of anything to say to these three? It was always just a bunch of awkward silence that I can never figure out how to break.
"What would you do with this place if you don't stay here?" Hermione asked.
Thank goodness everyone else seemed to know how to get us talking again.
"Sell it probably," I answered.
"You'll be rich if you did. This your house is huge."
I chuckled softly. "Yeah. The house with everything in it along with the grounds are worth, uh…" I ran the calculations in my head, remembering everything my parents taught me about our family's finances. "A...couple million galleons."
"Woah. Really?"
"Yeah. If someone buys it, I'll be richer than Harry."
Then I could do what Madam Pomphrey suggested and practice healing. I'd be able to afford admission and books to a Wizarding medical school.
"I think I'm gonna head back to bed," Granger sighed.
"I might, too."
"Okay. See you in a few hours, then, considering that it's about three AM," she laughed.
I smiled and nodded. "Goodnight."
This was so awkward to write. I had no idea how the Golden Trio would interact with Draco on a friendly basis, so I hope it was written alright! See you soon for the next chapter!