"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." – Maya Angelou
Chapter Forty-four: When a Fire Starts to Burn
Draco stared listlessly at the abyss over the courtroom as the various witches and wizards affiliated with his case milled about, finding their seats and talking amongst themselves. Unfortunately, being in this courtroom was the furthest that he could get from the horrid reality of his fate. From the dementor-ridden halls of Azkaban to the constant badgering from Gerard and the Ministry analysts as they extracted every little detail of his escapade as a Death Eater, the courtroom was the only environment where he could actually feel normal.
Normal, at least, until the banter stopped, and his friends, family, and Death Eater memories were trotted out mercilessly, bleed dry until they were no longer useful, then discarded. Between the prosecutor's probing questions and Gerard's attempts at lightening the mood, this trial felt like a constant shifting of the tide.
Before the chatter began to die down, Gerard walked over and squeezed Draco's shoulder reassuringly.
"Hang in there, kiddo," he murmured. He was still sporting a barely contained excitement that made Draco uneasy.
The initial traditions of the trial occurred without interruption - Draco's chains were symbolically detached, just leaving his thick iron handcuffs; Marjorie and Gerard both opened with their trailing remarks. Draco was preparing to steel his emotional mask for yet another long day until the doors opened suddenly.
The court shifted as two large men carrying a pet case walked through the thick oak doors, trudging up the aisle and depositing the case in the middle of the floor. The Minister watched this disinterestedly, his delicate reading glasses perched just so on his face.
The men lifted the gate, and a small grey cat leapt onto the marble floor.
Loki looked around the large room apprehensively, her head low to the ground and her ears back.
Gerard stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, this is Loki Worthington. She accompanied Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy during the majority of their journey to destroy the Death Eaters." Loki leapt onto the bar separating the jury from the floor, and a few of the jurors reached out to touch her soft fur.
There was a murmuring around the chambers as the cat sniffed the air, letting the jury members stroke her. Gerard paused, watching the cat and forcing the court's attention to her; she padded across the railing and leapt onto the defendant table, heading straight for Draco.
Draco tried not to panic as she sniffed his hand and rubbed her face against it; finally she walked closer and stepped down into his lap. He sighed; Loki was warm and soft, just like he remembered. He had barely touched the top of her head when one of the large men came forward and plucked the cat off of him, earning a few murmurs from the court.
"While it has been called into question whether any of Draco's memories from the past few months are trustworthy, I think you will find that this accusation is now irrelevant. It is not in the nature of a simple creature like this to lie."
Gerard paused, then continued, "Today, we have the privilege to bear witness to the actual events of Draco's journey with Hermione Granger, and perhaps, along the way, understand the motivations behind his unfortunate induction into the Death Eaters. Record Keeper, vial 68, please."
The Record Keeper rummaged in the cabinet next to the Wizengamot's high polished benches and pulled an unusually small vial. They tossed the contents into the air, allowing it to spread.
Gerard eyed the jury and said, "I would now like you to turn your attention to the memory evidence in the center of the room."
Draco furrowed his brows at the lack of context.
The memory filled the air in front of them, like so many had done before, swirling and growing into a voluminous cloud - but something was different.
As the abnormally large shapes in the smoke became clear, revealing giant, white furniture, a loud bang sounded.
Several members of the Wizengamot gasped, covering their ears.
A humungous version of Draco filled the space, stepping over their view, his face tensed with effort as he half carried, half dragged a limp Hermione behind him. Large ropes like basilisks trailed after her, scraping the ground, still entwined with her limbs. The stench of rotting flesh filled the room, and nearly every person in the court covered their nose.
There was another bang, and the dungeon shook as a blinding red light slammed into the white marble within the memory; someone had narrowly missed Hermione's hand with a hex as the oversized Draco heaved her up and laid her body on the monstrous counter. Every sound echoed and rumbled in the room; The Minister cringed at the noise.
"Stay with me, Hermione," the memory Draco boomed, splashing water on her; the excess water thundered towards the ground like a waterfall, causing several Wizengamot members to protect their heads. From this angle the spectators couldn't see Hermione's face, but Draco's loomed above them like a giant's, his eyes wide and pleading, his shoulders shaking.
This was by far the most graphic memory the court had seen; some members of the jury stood to get a better view of the top of the smoke.
"But Harry..." Memory Hermione's voice fell upon them.
"I know, I know. Accio duffel!" A huge black shape shot across the smoke. "We will contact him, okay? Will that make you happy?"
Draco couldn't take it - he hid his face in his arms. He had never seen himself looking so out of control, so positively distraught - and when blown up to horrific proportions, it was a hundred times more visible.
"I'll keep you safe," the memory Draco chanted, wildly looking around, almost like he was staring around at the spectators in the courtroom, "I'll keep you safe - "
The entire memory shifted as the giant Draco stepped over their view again, then came back and swept Loki into his arms. There was a brief moment when Hermione's face suddenly came into view, her huge black eyes bearing down like a dark angel, before a thunderous clap sounded.
The smoke evaporated.
"What on earth?!" a Wizengamot member asked, fixing his hat. "That noise! That smell!"
Gerard, unaffected, replied, "Yes, a word of caution; due to the way Loki - and cats, for that matter - perceive the world, these memories are a tad large."
Members of the jury, their eyes wide, turned and looked at the Minister. His narrowed gaze was fixed on the small grey cat now perched on the edge of the railing. She was licking her fur, her tail swishing.
"Proceed," the Minister said finally. "But there better not be any more memories that loud."
Gerard bowed slightly and collected his notes from the table. When he straightened, he paused, ensuring that he had the full attention of the dungeon, and said simply, "As you saw a few moments ago, there is no question of Mr. Malfoy's intentions."
Instead of continuing, Gerard said, "Thank you," and turned to the prosecutor.
Marjorie Kindle met his gaze steadily for a few seconds before glancing at Draco, who still had his head in his arms. She had clearly not expected the memory to be so intense. She cleared her throat and addressed the Record Keeper.
"Record Keeper, was this memory evidence submitted at the beginning of this trial, per the rules of this court?"
The Record Keeper flipped through their reference journal, found a note, and replied, "Yes."
She nodded slowly, eyeing Gerard. He stared back.
"No further questions."
Gerard smirked slightly. He knew that since the cat's memories had been a jumbled mess, containing every event of the cat's life, it was unlikely that the prosecutor's team would want to sort through it, seeing the memories as useless for their own case. It had already taken a lot of his team's time to sort through them.
He turned and said, "Right. For our next memory, I would like for you to recall the methods He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used in order to obtain - and keep - support." He stepped back and finished, "Record Keeper, vial 70, please."
Once the smoke filled the space, the room filled with the deep, rumbling buzz of a motor, and in the memory smoke Draco's humungous arm solidified, connecting to a steering wheel. Hermione's lap practically engulfed the room as the mountains in the distance formed.
"Why did you become a Death Eater?" she intoned.
Memory Draco's jaw worked. "I believe it's your turn."
"I'm not trying to be self-serving here. I just want to know you better."
He seemed to struggle internally, his stony expression dropping, and then sighed. "Alright then. I didn't really choose to become a Death Eater - I was chosen. By the Dark Lord."
This was nothing the court hadn't been told already - so why were the members of the jury squinting?
Draco looked at the memory and felt his face warm - Memory Draco was rubbing Memory Hermione's leg. From this position in the memory, his hand was huge; he could see the way her skin wrinkled as he squeezed her.
Other memories containing the two up to this point had been either Hermione's black, somewhat disorienting ones or Jesse's tame ones. This was the first time they were seeing Draco and Hermione actually interact in a romantic way.
Suddenly he couldn't even focus on anything else. His large, past self was speaking dejectedly about being a Death Eater, but the rumbling and suggestive hand motions were distracting. As his hand slipped a little too far under Hermione's dress, a few members of the jury murmured to each other; he had forgotten that he'd done that. He'd been concentrating on the road and on his rambling, it was an innocent mistake -
"I think I knew, even then, that I was just another tool for him to use."
The memory dissipated.
The Wizengamot and the jury turned to look at Draco, as they usually did after a memory; he noted with a grimace that some of their faces were pink.
"As we can see, Draco understood that he did not have a choice. He knew that his actions, were they to in any way impede the Dark Lord, would directly result in the death of his family." Gerard paused. "Thank you."
He turned to the prosecutor, who was drumming her fingers against her table. She stood and walked slowly onto the floor, contemplating her angle.
She looked up. "I'd just like to remind the members of the court that what the accused says is of little consequence in this, for how could we trust - "
"Objection," Gerard interrupted. "Unless the prosecutor has any questions for the witness, I have the floor."
The prosecutor looked over at Loki incredulously. "Minister, this is ridiculous. I can't question a cat!"
Loki looked up lazily, her eyes opening and closing.
The Minster looked between the lawyers and the cat, seeming to realize the situation and finding some amount of entertainment value in it. "I'm afraid he's right, council. Sustained."
The prosecutor sighed angrily and sat down. "No further questions."
Gerard practically skipped back to the table and turned to address the room. "For our next memory, it has been frequently called into question whether or not Draco Malfoy truly had the best intentions of our community in mind. For your consideration, Record Keeper, vial 82 please."
The Record Keeper retrieved another tiny vial and poured it over their desk, and it filled the open space in the courtroom like smoke, solidifying, taking the shape of a sunlit, garishly decorated room. Large half eaten pastries and cheeses dotted a floral bedspread, filling the dungeon with a pleasant, sweet aroma, like a patisserie. A large hand collected these morsels and deposited them into a box as the humungous reclining form of Hermione came into view, her hair cascading like vines across the memory.
Suddenly Draco's neck grew hot. Wasn't this right before they had fooled around? He looked at Gerard, wondering if the man was crazy.
His panic deepened as the giant memory version of himself slid next to Hermione and pulled her leg over him. Some of the jury members glanced at each other nervously.
"Why are you doing this?" the oversized Hermione asked. She breathed in sharply as the large Draco smoothed his hand down her side.
This was so much worse than the court hearing them argue.
He looked up - the sun coming through the memory was blinding, illuminating the top of the memory smoke to almost pure white. He watched in horror as his past self's hand drew circles on past Hermione's leg; her small gasp at the attention seemed to reverberate around the courtroom.
"Why aren't you still with the Death Eaters? Why aren't you... the same?"
"I've always wanted out. Of everything."
Forgotten emotions stirred within Draco - he had never dreamed of seeing her like this again. Hermione's face was so large he could see the freckles across her nose.
"Is that what this is? A way out?"
"Perhaps."
As they conversed back and forth, the young wizard turned his attention to the jury. It was like watching a crowd enjoy a play; they were leaned forward, practically hanging over the railing. Next his eyes went to the Wizengamot, who were positioned similarly. Some of them were even blushing.
He brought his attention back to the memory.
"... I can't always blame someone for believing in something. It's when someone knows it's wrong, and doesn't care... that's about when I want to wring their neck."
The memory Draco relaxed visibly, his face practically buried in Hermione's neck, his fingers still trailing a line up her body, and said, "For the record, I always knew it was wrong. And I did care. I just wasn't strong enough to find a way out."
The prosecutor, barely covering a snort, watched calmly.
Just as Memory Draco was beginning to lift Memory Hermione's shirt, much to Draco's alarm, the memory ended, the smoke evaporating and the light in the room returning to normal. Draco glanced at the jury again; the members were looking at each other, eyes wide, like they had just watched something naughty.
"Where does that strength come from?" Gerard said, gesturing, not even waiting for the members of the jury to regain composure.
Was the point of that memory the conversation or the snuggling? Draco thought sourly.
"It doesn't come from being locked up in Azkaban. It doesn't come from being tortured, day in, day out, all of your good memories gone, every good feeling you've ever had twisted into agony. And it doesn't come from returning to society with nothing but a name and a hole where your heart used to be."
"That's it kiddo, we're all done." Gerard said, positively bouncing in his shoes. He strode over to the door and closed it.
"What was with those Loki memories?" Draco questioned, waiting for the Auror who had followed them to redo his chains.
Gerard waved his hand, but his expression betrayed what appeared to be smugness. "You were talking about being a Death Eater. It's important that the jury hears your side."
"That's not what they were looking at," he muttered. "They were more interested in watching Hermione and I... touch each other."
Gerard shrugged, flipping his quill around his fingers. "We can't help the situation. It's a memory." He smiled vaguely. "Oh! Before I forget. They'll take a few days to deliberate over your sentence, but I'll be requesting you from Azkaban every day to give information; should keep you away from the dementors. The Auror Office is sending some representatives to talk to you about Death Eater's spells and battle tactics, Rita Skeeter wants to interview you before the sentencing, and the Department of Mysteries had some questions about some of your memories."
He furrowed his brows. "What would they want?"
Gerard shrugged. "There are parts of your memories that seem odd. Where you and Hermione look almost... drugged. They want to ask you about it."
He almost certainly knew what they were referring to - they must have been curious about the mental magic between he and Hermione. While it wasn't obvious from the memories he'd given (he'd guarded the memory of his night on the Worthington's futon with incredible vigor, not only from the Aurors, but also from himself), it would take an Unspeakable from the Hall of Thought to see what was happening.
He'd have to think about how much he wanted to reveal - that mental magic was certainly illegal, which could easily implicate Hermione. He had already revealed much about Master's use of legilimency to obtain information, even from her own followers; he hoped that they would just take more of that drivel and bugger off.
"And if you think of any more information you can give, let me know tomorrow morning. I'll make sure to add it to the list, so the jury and Wizengamot know exactly how much you're helping the Ministry."
Draco nodded glumly, letting the Aurors lift him out of his seat. Fear prickled his heart in anticipation of yet another restless night in the depths of Azkaban.
Author's note (10/27/17): Thank you readers, reviewers and favoriters! I'm really happy that I'm completing this story; it has weighed heavily on me for years and it will be nice to wrap it up. This chapter is a little short so I will likely post the next one sooner than next Friday. And now, yet another question:
How do you feel about the romantic parts of this story? I felt that it was important to portray them (especially Hermione) as being inexperienced and nervous, and growing with each other (which is perfectly normal for teens, even older teens like them.) I also felt it was important to focus on their relationship more than the things happening around them. LMK what you think!