"You have to do stuff that average people don't understand because those are the only good things." ~ Andy Warhol
Chapter Thirty-eight: Daybreak's Bell
Hermione had no idea what to expect.
The situation was so different now that she had her eyesight back. Not only could she see the face that she remembered from what seemed like forever ago, but she could attach her memories to a body that she could not only feel, but see as well.
It was going to be startling, she knew; preparing for seeing his face was making her more nervous than she needed to be.
She was wearing the dress he had always liked. Even though she knew it looked odd with her dark cloak and lace-ups, she knew he would appreciate it. She fiddled with the ribbon in her hair as the lift seemed to take forever. When the doors opened, Nora was there, standing with a bundle of parchment as if she had been waiting for her.
"Hermione," she said, her expression warm.
"Yes, finally, I know," Hermione replied.
Nora threw her free arm around the girl's shoulders. "I am so glad you've come. Draco's been a right mess lately."
Hermione nodded silently, remembering why she was here and suddenly nervous again.
"… But now that you're here, we can talk things over a bit and figure out how we are going to do this, correct?"
She nodded again. "I've got information for you. And my certification."
Not fooled by Hermione's business-like tone, Nora gave the girl's shoulders a squeeze. "Hermione," she said, "Don't be nervous. You two are the same people I talked to on the mobile those months ago. The separation will have given you some perspective."
She was right; how would Hermione have known if what she felt was real if they had spent more time together, day and night, as was what they had wanted? She had proved, over the course of the last few weeks, that she still needed him and still wanted to help him.
As to what he felt, well, she did not know. Azkaban's holding cells did strange things to people, and sitting in a courtroom all day listening to people talk about him probably did nothing for his temper. With any luck, it had not damaged him enough to where she wouldn't recognize him anymore.
"Nora, I thought of something."
Nora perked up at being addressed. "Let's hear it."
"What if we just lie?"
Nora searched for something delicate to say. Hermione would never willingly offer to be untruthful with something unless the need was desperate.
"We can talk to the members of the Order. If it seemed that Draco was actually working for the Order the whole time, maybe his case will turn out better."
"Hermione, I don't know how to say this," Nora began, looking at the other woman directly. "The trial has started already. Changing our position now would be unwise; the Wizengamot already thinks that this whole trial is a fabrication to keep them busy while the Department of Mysteries tries to sort through Mas... Master's research."
"Ah yes... the 'research.'" Hermione scoffed bitterly.
"Literally... there is nothing more that can be done. We've collected all the hard evidence we could... and most of it is bullshit. Our side and their side are arguing two different things, and the Wizengamot and jury are going to realize it at some point. It's only a matter of time."
"You aren't arguing different things. You are both disputing his punishment."
"It may seem that way, but everyone knows he is being put away regardless. They don't have to prove that he's done the things that he has done... there is no mistake of that. They just have to disprove what we are saying - that he has changed and that his good deed was not a sneaky way of saving his own skin."
"There has to be a way to legitimize the journey we went on!"
"We've tried, and we'll keep trying."
"That's not good enough!"
In spite of her understanding, Nora's eyes narrowed. Hermione shook her head, remembering how much Nora had sacrificed in order to help them. "I'm sorry."
They had reached the end of the hallway. Nora paused at the door to allow Hermione to breathe in and out, and then nodded to the Auror standing guard.
Draco hated when his mum would ask nicely for things. "Can you do mummy a favor," she'd start. It made him sick, made his blood run hot.
He would rather she just said it, staccato and loud. No, don't say "thank you" and whatever you do, don't say "please." That really ticked him off. Don't beg when you know you don't have to. There was no such thing as a choice. "Please." Yeah right. His parents knew that he would do what they asked, whether they screamed it at him or not.
Trying to be nice about it just made him angry.
His mother faced away from him. "Your father is gone, shipped to Azkaban. You are on your way. Do you realize that if you are convicted and sent away, the Ministry will seize everything we've worked for?"
There it was. With both men of the household gone, Narcissa Malfoy had little say in what happened to their property, their estate, their money. The anti-Death Eater laws of the wizarding world not only punished Death Eaters, but their families as well. Since Draco could previously be considered the "man of the house" while his father was in Azkaban, the Ministry could do little more than give the family a hefty fine. But now that both men were gone and Narcissa, whose name was not on any documentation as far as their family account, was left alone in the house, the Ministry would have an easier time confiscating their estate. "War crimes" was a broad term and the Wizengamot could basically name their own price where reparations were concerned.
It was likely that the Ministry had not only anticipated this situation… they had damn near planned for it.
Draco put his head in his hands. "I don't know what you want me to do, Mum. There is nothing I can do from where I am."
Narcissa nodded hurriedly, brushing her hair into place to hide her watering eyes. "I should never have let you join him. He continues to ruin our family, even after death."
It did not even seem like the Dark Lord was dead sometimes; nothing had changed, at least for Draco. His life was still not in his control. His family, though brought together by the trials they were put through, was still not strong enough to rise above their pride. The Ministry was still a mess, the members either corrupt or inept.
"I should have saved you myself," Narcissa started again. "Instead of letting them take you."
He shook his head. "You tried, mother. That's all that matters."
"No. Results matter. There was no reasoning with that psychotic tart. She has no regard for family, so why would our relationship matter to her? - "
"It's fine. I made my own way."
"You wouldn't have had to escape, you wouldn't have had to meddle in their plans at all." She paused, and Draco knew immediately where she was going with this. "That Granger girl has ruined your chances."
"Oh mother," Draco spat bitterly, "my chances weren't good to begin with. They never have been."
Her eyes found his and a stony expression came over her features, the same she wore whenever she was about to lecture him. "If you have done anything with her that would jeopardize the purity of the Malfoy bloodline - "
"Stop," Draco said lowly, his eyes cold. "I won't have you insulting her, and by extension, me. Our 'bloodline' was forfeit long ago."
Narcissa stared at him incredulously, and opened her mouth to retort.
"We haven't done anything of that sort, mother." Draco interjected, turning away. "And besides, none of that matters. Can't you see that? None of it matters anymore. Our blood is nothing more than a shield against our family's failures. We've sat in the comfy little nest of our wealth and prestige, our high collars and pride. But that has been taken from us. There is nothing left to preserve."
"You are wrong," Narcissa put forth, crossing her arms over her corseted stomach. "If you want to give her anything more than grief, you best think about that. Our friends are no longer in power at the Ministry; instead, we are at the mercy of those who despise us. Even I cannot find a high enough ranking position to fill at the Ministry; I've had to settle for a desk position."
The thought of his mother working in an office made Draco smirk a little. "Oh no. The Ministry made you finally get a job."
The glare Narcissa sent him seared the back of his head. He tried not to cringe - he really did not know why he was being so short with his mother. It was likely to not end well. "Hermione doesn't care about any of that. She's different from the rest of them."
"That she is," Narcissa said under her breath, still facing away from him. Her meaning was not lost on him. "Yet our pureblood status will not save us anymore," Narcissa continued, her fingers toying with the cloth of her handkerchief. "I fear that all we have left is each other."
And we don't even have that.
There was a knock at the door, and Nora ducked her head in quickly. "Draco… there is someone here to see you."
His heart leapt into his throat as Hermione appeared in the doorway.
Her eyes were strange; they were not black, nor were they the warm brown they had been before any of this had happened. They were a dry, dusty grey, and lacked the usual spark that he had always seen. She looked frightened and tired, like she hadn't slept in days. He barely recognized her.
She was staring directly at him, and he carefully watched the emotions flitting across her face as Nora talked, suddenly noticing that his hair was uncombed and wondering if he had remembered to wash his face that morning. He saw confusion, disgust, and sorrow in the wide eyes settled on him, as well as the thing he was hoping the most against:
Fear.
"She's going to be submitting memory evidence today, as well as asking you some questions."
Hermione looked between Draco and his mother, who had turned and was gazing at her directly, a note of contempt in her expression.
It was hard for her to believe that the man she now saw was the same one she had fought, run from, argued with, and grown to love as not only a companion, but a friend as well. They had shared so much that seeing him like this was almost foreign to her. She was afraid; the last few months now felt like a dream that she had woken up from and only certain details remained.
Why had she not prepared herself for this more? He'd had the entirety of their time together to get used to seeing her face, knowing that it was the same face he had tormented for years.
She could not attach those memories to this face, this body. Though he was less menacing and thinner, he was definitely the Draco Malfoy that her memory supplied from Hogwarts, from Malfoy Manor. His hair fell longer than she remembered, and even slightly wavy; not having his hair gelled back certainly helped make him less intimidating, but the hard lines of his face were the same, if not more pronounced.
He was staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to move, waiting for the inevitable rejection. But instead of moving forward immediately, Hermione closed her eyes.
His presence was the same, his mind was the same. His thoughts were a muddled, sad mess; she could feel his stress more than ever as it overpowered his happiness in seeing her again.
"It really is you," she breathed, quickly closing the distance between them and burying her face in his neck. Draco inhaled and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Excuse me." Draco's mother said angrily, her eyes wide at the scene in front of her.
Draco gave no indication he heard her; his mind was filled with Hermione's emotions. He did not let go until Hermione pulled away and straightened up awkwardly.
She looked over at his mother, and then seemed to compose herself, taking in Narcissa's red eyes and dark attire. "It is nice to meet you properly, Ms. Malfoy."
Narcissa turned her face away from the girl in a clear show of disrespect and addressed Nora instead. "I am required back at the Ministry."
She left with that, and Hermione turned to Draco, appreciative of his contrite expression. "Please excuse my mother," he began cautiously.
Hermione shrugged and smiled. "It's okay."
"You don't know what this is like - it's like my eyes are sewn shut. I don't know what you are doing ever - "
"What, you think I'm going to hurt you?"
"… I don't know - "
"I won't hurt you if you don't give me a reason to, okay?"
"How am I supposed to believe that when you've been nothing but foul to me ever since I've known you?"
"It's like I never saved your life at all!"
"That's a convenient excuse."
"Convenient? Maybe I should just leave you here for them to find you. That would be convenient."
"I'll expose you in a second if you do that!"
Draco did not want to look up and see the faces in the stands of the Wizengamot. The memory, one of Hermione's, played in the center of the room, looking like a cloud of black smoke that emitted smells and sounds. Instead, he watched the face of the prosecutor as the past Draco and Hermione continued to argue.
The memory ended abruptly, and the room turned towards Draco to see his expression.
"As you can see, their 'journey' together was not exactly smooth, nor was it an alliance of want or friendship. Their supposed friendship was merely a ploy developed out of necessity, so that both of them could achieve the end they ultimately wanted with the least amount of trouble." The prosecutor let the last statement hang for emphasis as she stared down the jury. "That is all."
Gerard scratched in his beard and nodded to the prosecutor as she went to sit down. "Record Keeper, at what time is did this memory occur?"
"June twenty-first, 6:37 pm."
"And can you remind us again what day Miss Granger was confirmed missing?"
"June thirteenth, at 7:04 am."
"Eight days," Gerard said, turning toward the Wizengamot. "This is eight days after a person who you knew to be a Death Eater has counter-kidnapped you in an attempt to save you, eight days after you have been rendered blind, eight days of running from dark wizards and scraping every bit of freedom you can. That's eight days of carrying someone through the woods, of finding food, of navigating through Death Eater infested towns and forests and staying safe. Imaginably, your tempter is likely to be that of a Blast-Ended Skrewt."
A few members of the Wizengamot chuckled.
"It takes more than eight days to gain someone's trust. I've been married for sixteen years and my wife still doesn't trust me." More members of the Wizengamot chuckled. "That especially applies to people who have adversarial relationships. One can't judge the dynamics of their entire journey based on a few arguments. If we could, I doubt any of us would have many friends at all." Gerard paused. "Thank you."
Draco allowed himself a small smile. The trial really was destroying his emotions; one minute, he wanted to wring the neck of the prosecutor as she spoke about him in such a familiar and condescending manner, as she dissed every good intention he'd had and said the very things that he didn't want to admit to himself. But when Gerard stood to defend him, it seemed that he pulled a rebuttal out of his arse, managing to make the prosecutor look silly and at the same time lightening the tension in the room.
It was hard to say where this was all going.
He hoped that they could continue to keep afloat.
As a recess was called, Gerard went over to Nora's bench.
"I've scheduled another meeting for Draco and Hermione. This afternoon." Nora's eyes shone as the parchment rolls slid into her briefcase. "Together, they are a powerful force."
"Yes. I've never seen anything like it. But that's a dangerous thing you did, Nora."
Nora shook her head, taking a sip of water and setting down her glass lightly. "I know, Gerard. I may have killed this case for them."
He shrugged. "The prosecutor will use it for sure, but we will get a lot of good information, and Draco's spirits will be lifted. That's really what we need. He has hope now."
"That might not be a good thing."
"True. But at the end of the day what do we have if not hope for something better?"
Author's note: Nope, I'm not dead. See? *dodges harpoons*