The house elf that opened the door of Fawley's grand villa wore a nice livery. House elves nowadays did not wear rags any longer, but their rich wizarding families still showed that the elves belonged to them, even if they got wages and free days. This particular house elf had a haughty look about him, as if his employer's conceitedness had rubbed off. Even Neville's charming smile could not soften his mien.
"I would like to speak to Mr Fawley."
"You are not expected, Mr …" The Elf stated.
"Longbottom, It's Longbottom." Neville gave the elf a small nod. "No, I am not, but I'm sure, Mr Fawley will want to see me. I think he wanted to advise me on my teaching methods."
Pansy suppressed a snort. They had agreed that Neville would do anything to give them access to Fawley's house, but she did not have to like Neville belittling himself.
The elf bade Neville to wait and shut the door again. It did not take him long to return, and Neville was led into the house, Pansy practically glued to his heels under Harry's cloak.
Fawley welcomed Neville in his living room and the elf was sent to prepare tea. Mrs Fawley joined them. She was all graceful hostess, but Pansy had a look at her hands and saw that Mrs Fawley seemed to have a habit of biting her nails.
Neville began chit-chatting about this and that. He really piled on with his herbology interest and involved Mrs Fawley in a lengthy discussion about her roses and all other plants in the garden. Somehow, he had recognised them all on their walk through the garden.
Pansy knew she should make good use of the time her husband bought her, and she tiptoed out of the living room thankful for her silent slippers.
Dudley had told her what to look for. If Fawley used a phone regularly, he would probably have electricity somewhere and there were tools to look for wires in the wall. Pansy hoped that the magic in the house would not disrupt her search. She was thankful that the Fawleys were not notorious for hording objects of black magic. She shuddered at the thought of doing a search like this in a house like Malfoy Manor.
It took her a while to find a wire in the walls. She quickly checked her wedding band if Neville had alerted her to an end of his parent-teacher talk, but she still had some time. Neville had promised her three quarters of an hour at the very least.
She followed the wire, her wand at the ready, searching for wards. She chanced upon several, but nothing she could not dismantle temporarily. A very handy spell if you did not want an intrusion to be detected. She had worked that out with Hermione's help, after Neville and her had seen her howler response. It was a question of finding the magical signature and repeating it. It was complicated, but it could be done.
She almost overlooked the door, that was charmed to look like the wallpaper, if she had not been attuned to Fawley's signature. Behind the door was a small study, and there she found the phone, connected to the sock or socket or wherever electricity came out.
She took her bag and opened it to get the small piece of paper that held Dudley's instructions. She wiped the phone and it came to life.
'Most people are stupid and take their birthday as their pin.', Dudley had said. It had taken Pansy quite a while to realise that pin was an acronym and stood for Personal Identification Number…. She doubted she would have ever worked that out if she had not been around acronym crazy friends for years.
She tried Fawley's birthday and the phone sprang to life. Pansy allowed herself to sigh in relief.
Fortunately, Dudley's instructions were detailed enough that she could work through them step by step. She nervously checked her ring, but Neville still had not sent any message. She found the 'store' on the phone, just like Dudley had shown her. She almost panicked when she realised that she had to pay for the gadget. Thankfully, she remembered Neville's plastic muggle card and paid for the gadget with that.
By the time she had 'installed' the gadget, deleted the information on Neville's plastic card, and had hid the picture of the newly bought programme on another page of the phone Fawley hopefully would never check, she was drenched in sweat.
She checked her wedding band and saw that it was high time to leave. On her way out she replicated the wards with Fawley's signature. She tried to slow herself. All would be for nothing if she were sloppy. Going through the moves of Fawley's signature she could feel an idea forming in her head, that had to do with the case, but for the moment it eluded her. She would try to dig into that later.
Neville stood in the entrance, stalling by pretending to search for the umbrella 'he was sure he had brought'. Pansy briefly touched his shoulder, drawing an x, so that he knew she was ready. Neville's shoulder felt tense to her fingers, and she sensed that he was livid with anger.
On the way out, his long legs almost outran her, as if he could not get away soon enough.
He apparated as soon as he had left the estate without even waiting for her to side-along. She chose to put more distance between herself and the house lest the Fawleys heard two tell-tale apparition cracks instead of one.
Thus, when she arrived at their house, Neville should have had some time to cool off. He was still fuming though, stomping around the house in such anger as Pansy had rarely ever witnessed.
"What is it, love?" Pansy was worried.
Neville banged his fist on their table. "Why do such people even have children? I swear that man gives the impression of positively detesting his own daughter. Just because she's in Hufflepuff. Matilda is a sweet child, much too timid for her own good. She doesn't deserve such a father."
He screamed inarticulately.
"Why do people get children if they are not prepared to love them no matter what? Why? Why do the gods above if they exist decide to give them children at all? When they have no idea what a gift that is? Their daughter does not live up to their expectation, so they belittle her instead of supporting her." He banged his fists on the table again.
"Why is it so damn unfair?"
Pansy felt tears well up in her eyes. She ran to Neville, and he bent down and swept her into his arms, burying his face into her shoulder.
"I know, love," she whispered. "The only thing we can do is not to be unfair ourselves." They held each other tightly for a long time, their tears mingling, the success of their infiltration momentarily forgotten in their shared grief.
Notes:
Somehow, Pansy and Neville keep creeping in...
Obviously this chapter is also important for the mystery.
I am somewhat sorry, that Fawley whose name I picked randomly from the list of the sacred 28 for the sole reason, that we know nothing about the family at all, is such a villain in my fic...
But, we need villains don't we?
Chapter 53: A loophole (March 14, 2002)
Summary:
Hermione tries to take precautions against a possible Azkaban sentence for Draco
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione leaned into Draco's neck, her breath ghosting over his skin, her lips tingling with the kisses they had shared, she could feel the heat in her cheeks and Draco's heartbeat in his pulse. She chided herself for being so easily distracted. She had plans after all for this lawyer - accused consultation.
"Did I mention that it looks like we already decided what to do about this…" she pointed at him and at herself.
Draco bent down to kiss the corner of her mouth, his tongue quickly dabbing at her lips, teasing her to open her mouth. His eyes were burning with need. Hermione did not indulge him. It was not that she distrusted her wards or feared that Draco would get a visitor, but she had allowed him to distract her far too often.
"Sometimes our path is clear before us." he whispered into her ears. "It's easy for me. I just want to make the most of the little time we have."
Hermione straightened herself. "You don't believe we'll win?"
"It's not for lack of your trying, Granger. I could not wish for a more determined solicitor." Draco's smile had a hint of sadness to it. He let his fingers trail over her face. "It's just that I think I have used up all my luck and I try to prepare for the worst. And we both know it depends on Potter's testimony. If his testimony turns out as bad as Weasley's, it's Azkaban for me."
Hermione's heart clenched. She did not want to think about the possibility of Draco going to Azkaban. But she did. It had always been her way. Think about the worst outcome she could fathom and find a solution for that. Think about how their wands would be taken if the secret meeting against Umbridge would be told on? Jinx the list where everybody put his name. Fearing her parents would be victims of Voldemort? Sent them to Australia. Expect to be on the run for a while? Enchant a small bag with and expendable charm. She would turn around the scenarios in her head, until she found an angle and a solution. She had yet to find a solution for the Harry problem, as she called it in her head, although she had worked out a minor solution of what to do, if Draco were sent to Azkaban.
"He could tip the scales in my favour simply by telling the truth. The only question is if he'll do it. It will be his word that decides if I'll be known as another defector like my mother or if I'll be known as the man who tried to wriggle his way out of a just sentence and failed."
Hermione nodded unhappily. She did not know what Harry would do. She was so uncertain about that, that the prosecution had called him as witness before her.
"Am I different?", she asked, voicing her thoughts out loud. "Have I changed?"
Draco made a show of studying her.
"You do have a love bite, here. That was not there half an hour ago. You should remove that before you face the auror who is outside, even though you probably confunded him." He pointed at her neck and chuckled when she playfully hit his arm.
His face became more serious when he realized it had been a genuine question. "I don't think you have changed. You are still a bushy haired know-it-all." He took one of her curls and twirled it in his fingers. "You have bewitched me, and I love you."
He carefully stroked the curl and tucked it behind her ear. "I wonder how you worked your way around my scutum. I blame the unique Granger charms." He chuckled at his own joke.
Hermione smiled at that. "It is just that nobody seems to understand. They don't get why it would be wrong if you land in Azkaban. Well, everyone safe Luna perhaps. Luna is all talk about 'every possible angle'. It frightens me what she comes up with… "
Luna had tried to think about the problem of the conflicting evidence from all angles and her imaginative mind had come up at least with five other explanations than the two put forward by the defence and the prosecution. Five, Hermione knew about. Some of these were not to Hermione's liking.
"She claimed that you might have been in possession of a time turner and that something went wrong and instead of living the same years twice you managed to skip the years you went missing. And you came back to turn the trial after planting evidence here and there."
She raised her hand. "And don't ask me how she thinks that worked. Ron seems to be in favour of that idea, though, or so I have heard." She had had a terrible row with Ron after he had given testimony and they had not spoken since. Ron had informed her, that he would wait until she 'came to her senses'.
After that she had thrown all her caution over board, all of hers and Draco's 'we will work this out after the trial'-intentions had melted like ice under the sun in an almost two-hour snogging session that had been very unhelpful for the case and highly satisfying in other regards.
Her fall-out with Ron, her commitment to Draco, even if secret, it all made things rather awkward with Ginny and Harry, but both seemed to think that Ron and Hermione's relationship was still at the same level, meaning 'wedding postponed until Hermione's parents regain their memory' and not 'broken up', despite Hermione's insistence that she would not marry Ron. They seemed to think that she would come around as she had done every time, Ron and she had fought.
It hurt so much, that Draco's absurd situation was a matter of jokes and speculations for her friends. Not that Luna had been joking. She was serious as ever, always convinced that her current idea was the correct idea.
"Luna actually stumbled upon the truth…."
"How so?"
"She seriously entertained the idea, that you are in love with me, that you always were in love with me…. Fortunately, that was the day after she had come to the conclusion, that you just have entered an unknown spiritual sphere via meditation and that explains your scutum. So, they all just laughed."
"We were lucky that her testimony went so well … Imagine if she had said that in court…"
"My parents are the only ones who understand, but of course they don't remember me complaining about the insufferable Malfoy git. They just think it is terribly unfair, that the nice young gentleman who reunited them with their daughter is threatened with prison…. "
She closed her eyes.
"And here I am complaining about my friends, when you might be sentenced to Azkaban."
Draco grazed her closed eyelids with his lips and slowly made his way towards her mouth. Feeling her mood, he just gave her a quick peck though instead of deepening the kiss.
"Hermione, you might allow yourself to fear this outcome as much as I do. You might lose your friends over me, and you have a right to fear that. Even if you deserve better friends who believe you…."
"Luna does on her better days. And Neville…. I mean, I don't think he fully understands, and I don't think he really believes me, but he does not say so to my face."
Hermione wiped angrily at her eyes. She would not cry again.
"At least I have a solution for one problem."
Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.
"How I can ensure that I can visit you if you go to Azkaban… In the unlikely case you go to Azkaban," she corrected herself determinedly.
Draco frowned. "I thought I had made it clear, that I don't want you to do anything foolish. You can't tell anyone about us. If you do that, it is still unlikely that you would be allowed to see me, and you certainly would be a pariah. The Daily Prophet is bad enough as things stand now. I read all those articles about how Hermione Granger does not thirst for justice but is full of delusions about the goodness of human nature and fell for 'Malfoy's repentant death eater act'. How you are too idealistic for your own good, easily duped… I could kill Skeeter for the things she writes about you."
He looked into her eyes. "I am serious. It's not worth it, Hermione. It would be horror to be in Azkaban and to know that you are ridiculed and detested. And still you would not be allowed to visit me. If I go to Azkaban, I want you to lay low."
"Who would visit you?"
"My mother would. She visited me here."
"And?"
Draco averted her eyes. "I am sure, many snakes would come and visit."
She raised her hand to his chin and turned his face to her. "Who else, Draco?"
"Pansy might come. The others…. " He harrumphed, obviously trying to steady his voice. "I think they can't handle the whole scutum situation. I could as well be a squib."
His laugh had a bitter ring to it. "You and my mother are the only persons who don't seem to think it's contagious."
"I could visit you, if we were married."
"What?" His laughter had become more musical, this one was real.
"Did you just propose to me, Granger?" He shook his head. "You do realise that a marriage is not exactly what I mean by 'laying low'."
Hermione licked her lips. "If we would get married in a muggle registry, none would be the wiser. But I could produce a wedding certificate if I have to."
"A muggle certificate. It would not be accepted. Muggle law is inconsequential in our world."
She smiled smugly. "Not if the wedding is officially registered with the ministry. And any witch or wizard can get their marriage registered, even if it is a muggle certificate, if the partner is a muggle or a squib."
She looked at his sceptical face. "I know technically you're neither, but I could argue my way around that, I'm sure. I had a look at the exact wording of the law."
"You mean that. You actually mean that."
"Of course, I do, you git." She was getting annoyed. Couldn't he see that this was a loophole? "Don't keep me dangling!"
"You want to marry me, just like that. Haven't you forgotten something?"
"Forgotten something? Malfoy, I looked at every damn regulation about Azkaban and visitors! I did not forget anything!"
He had the nerve to laugh.
"You know that usually a proposal is accompanied by a declaration of love?"
Her anger left her in a surprised huff. She could feel her face becoming hotter.
"I…."
"Yes, that is how you should begin…"
She boxed his arm.
"That's not right, Granger. Flowers is not the same as bruises."
"You insufferable….," she could have screamed.
"I love you, too, Hermione," he whispered. His mouth found hers and his kiss was needy and passionate.
"I love you so much, Draco," Hermione whispered into his lips when he let her go for a catch of breath. "I cannot, I cannot bear to be parted."
"I wouldn't know how, either," he confessed.
Hermione pressed his hand. "So, let's do it."
"Now? How?"
"Yes, I'm prepared."
"You're prepared. Just like that. You're prepared…. This is not an essay, Granger. You do realise that I cannot leave this so-called cell… We are lucky enough that they leave me alone with you. We are extremely lucky that nobody wants to be bothered to make a long flying tour to Azkaban with me or I would be brought there every evening."
"That is why the Muggle registry has to come to us." Hermione told him.
Draco studied her face. "To us," he repeated.
"To us," Hermione confirmed.
"You enlisted Prudy for this."
Hermione grinned. "I might have. I also might have made a portkey for a muggle official that Prudy might deliver the moment I tell her to. He could arrive", she checked her watch. " in about fifteen minutes. He will be under the impression that we've come to him as appointed and after he has given us the certificate, he'll be portkeyed back with this" She pulled a chewing gum wrap from her bag.
She looked at him, suddenly uncertain. "That is, if you say yes."
"My luck hasn't run out after all. I'm going to marry the love of my life. I am not strong enough to say no to that." He stood, picked her up and whirled her around, his mouth seeking hers again.
It all went smoothly as planned. The muggle official arrived on time, an elderly man who didn't make any fuss and finished the whole ceremony in ten minutes after Hermione had told him, that there would be a grand church wedding later. His speech for newly-weds was flat and monotonous, finished in less than five minutes.
Hermione greedily took the wedding certificate. She felt prepared now. If the worst happened, this would be her ticket to see Draco.
It was with a light mood, that she checked her watch, after the official had vanished again, slightly confunded, so that he would not question his experience.
"We still have almost half an hour, before I have to leave." Hermione searched Draco's mouth with her lips. "That is enough time to make this marriage effective."
"You cannot be serious," Draco answered. "Here? In my cell?"
"We can't take any chances." She wanted to sound reasonable, but her voice trembled. She was reassured by the sudden unevenness of Draco's breath, and the intensity of his gaze.
"I know this is not the most romantic of settings, but we can't afford loopholes. As conservative as wizarding society is, someone might argue lack of consummation against us. And if you'll be a free man within the week, we can make up leeway on the romance."
"I can't believe I'm actually contemplating to agree. What do you do to me, Granger? My brain seems to be overwhelmed. And where should we do this deed?" Draco asked. "I can assure you that the mattress they put in here is a nightmare. And I am quite sure that there is a ward on it to prevent it from being transformed lest I become too comfortable."
He scoffed. "They still don't get the whole scutum thing."
His words were flippant, but his breath belied his nonchalance. His breath was uneven and ragged, and his voice was somehow deeper than usual. Hearing that kindled a fire in Hermione, her own breath seemed to reach deep into her core, carrying warmth and a need with it, that made her lightheaded.
They looked around. "The desk", they said in unison.
It might not have been a very traditional wedding night, as wedding nights go, and not only because it was not night, but Hermione would not complain. Even on a desk, even with only twenty minutes, even with half their clothes still on, it had been wonderful, everything at once, tender and passionate, whispered words of love, sweat and heavy breathing, desire and need running wild and getting sated. It was far more than a simple act of desperation.
Draco had a dazed look about him when she said goodbye. There was colour in his pale face and Hermione was sure, that she had a flush in her cheeks as well. She cast some charms to get rid of evidence, and cast a charm that would make her unremarkable, just in case someone would notice her glow. She did not need to look in a mirror to know that she glowed. She felt beautiful, in high spirits, overflowing with love.
"See you in court," she told Draco. "We will make it."
His eyes bored into hers.
"Best, try not to look at me like that in court. I promise. When you walk out as a free man, we will have our honeymoon." She touched his cheek. "And we will make more memories, so that you'll never miss the one about our first kiss."
"Hermione," he caressed her name.
"Yes?"
"You need to cast a contraceptive."
She had almost forgotten that.
She felt like she walked on clouds for the rest of the day. It was only when she lay in bed that the 'Harry problem' raised its head again and had her tossing and turning in worry.
Notes:
I really, really hope all my lovely readers like this chapter... I tried to give nothing away with the title of the chapter.
This is of course quite an important chapter.
Still rated T, I think?
Chapter 54: Visitors at Hogwarts
Summary:
Draco and Hermione visit Hogwarts for some lessons.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Neville made his way to the Great Hall to get breakfast. It was still early. He wasn't an early bird by choice, but he was a bit nervous about the lessons today. So far, his shared DADA lessons with Astoria had gone splendidly, but today they had rearranged the timetables to accommodate the scutum lessons and Neville hoped it would work out.
He had made an effort to arrange the easiest classes in the morning. It would not do any good if he would start with third years and James Potter and Richard Weasley. So, they would start with the first and second years, go on with the older students who needed to cast the scutum and would end with fourth and third year in the afternoon.
Draco in a good mood could be very charming and putting Lizzie and her classmates at the beginning would ensure that. Neville worried a bit about the Hufflepuffs. He had noticed that they had collected possible questions ever since he had announced Draco's visit.
When he reached the Great Hall to get his breakfast, the Hufflepuffs met him halfway, streaming out of the hall, breakfast forgotten. That probably meant that they had spotted today's visitors. Leave it to Hermione and Draco to be too early.
Neville shook his head at the Hufflepuffs clustering at the windows that looked out of the castle, pointing excitedly. Neville easily towered over half of them and he spotted his friends and his wife. Pansy patted the Thestrals that had brought them and slapped their rumps. Hermione and Draco had turned to the lake, walking hand in hand. The students at the windows were all abuzz, especially the girls, but some boys as well. Hufflepuff boys were more open about the reality of feelings than other houses.
Even though it was far quite far away, Neville could see Draco letting go of Hermione's hand and picking up something. He must have thrown some stones that skidded over the water. The lake was calm today and the stones painted rings on the water that disturbed the mirror-like surface.
Pansy called out to them and they made their way to the castle. Neville told the Hufflepuffs in stern voice that they should get their breakfast. They obeyed only reluctantly and by the time Pansy, Draco and Hermione had entered the castle, at least one half of the Hufflepuffs was still outside the Great Hall.
Neville kissed Pansy and waved at his friends. They held hands again, so that Draco just raised his left hand and Hermione her right.
The students who tarried at the entrance did not even pretend that they wanted to enter the hall, but they were too shy to approach the visitors and the buzz had died down somewhat, so that everyone could hear what Draco said next.
"Granger, we have to savour this moment. Close your eyes for a moment."
"Why?"
"Close your eyes and imagine an AU and AT situation."
Hermione closed her eyes. "O.k. Please elaborate, Malfoy."
"AU and AT?", Neville asked. Sometimes Hermione's and Draco's tendency for acronyms left him clueless.
"Another universe, another timeline," Draco quickly explained. "In that universe and time, I actually had the guts to ask you to dance with me at the Yule Ball. We would have danced and talked and at some point, we would have dated. And now imagine the looks we would have gotten from the Slytherins and Gryffindors while entering the Great Hall, hand in hand."
Hermione opened her eyes and laughed. "So, you would have dated me in A.T. or A.U.?"
Draco smiled, oblivious to the students who listened in. "I think I would have loved you in any universe, Granger."
Neville was sure, that this would make the rounds like wildfire in House Hufflepuff.
Pansy whispered in his ears. "Sometimes I think, he only has two modes. Sappy or sarcastic."
"He has a way with words in both modes. And I can relate. I feel the same when it comes to you", Neville whispered back. Pansy did him the favour to blush profusely.
They were interrupted by Lizzie who greeted her parents with enthusiasm.
"You are here already! There is still so much time before lessons. Will you come with me to the Hufflepuff table? Get some tea? Please, please, please!" Lizzie hopped up and down.
Nobody could have rejected that invitation, and finally the students filed into the Hall.
Hermione and Draco did indeed take seats with the Hufflepuffs and Neville saw Colin and Rina joining them. John Greggs, the Head Boy, stuck out his tongue to some classmates at the Slytherin table. Greggs pulled out some papers out of his robes and Neville suspected that these were the questions the Hufflepuffs had collected. He wondered if this would run smoothly or if Hermione and Draco would be incredibly annoyed. Neville suspected that some of the questions were a bit flippant.
He hesitated. For the moment, the Grangers were talking among themselves and Greggs had yet to get an opening. Pansy decided for him by taking a seat at Colin's side and Neville joined them seating himself opposite his wife.
Lizzie was chatting happily as always, and it took several minutes before Greggs managed to interrupt.
"Mrs Granger-Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, would you allow me to ask some questions? On behalf of the students?"
Hermione looked at him and smiled "You must be John Greggs, the head boy. Well met."
"What is this supposed to be?" Draco pointed with widened eyes at the stack of papers in Greggs' hands.
"These are just some notes so that we won't forget to ask the important questions. Your visit is a unique opportunity."
"Notes?" Draco asked. "These aren't just some notes. This is a fucking book. You cannot possibly have that many questions. A scutum is not complicated."
Lizzie giggled. "I doubt there are any questions about the scutum, dad. That's for class."
Hermione took Draco's hand. "I guess, this is due to our notoriety, love."
Draco mumbled. "These be better no stupid questions."
Hermione smiled at the head boy. "Shoot away!"
"Mrs Granger, is it true, that you support the Goblins' rights for wands?"
"Yes, I do. Goblins have been allowed to work in only two fields after the Goblin rebellions: money and gold- and silversmithing. But they have many talents which are wasted in their current reduced circumstances. It is only logical that they should be allowed to work in whatever field they want and therefore they should have wands. The Goblin rebellions are centuries ago after all."
"Do you have a connection to the Wands for Goblins movement?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. I represented several Goblin cases in court, but the W.f.G. as an organisation has never approached me."
"Mr Malfoy, what do you think could be done for non-magical people in the magical world?"
"You mean squibs?"
"We try to avoid that word, since it might be seen as offensive."
Draco laughed. "Well, that is a new development. I think they should get an education at Hogwarts."
"Why?"
"Muggleborns should be introduced into the magical world earlier. They know nothing but the Muggle world and yet are expected to adapt immediately to the concept that things can be done with magic and to know all the rules. And squibs have it even worse. The very least the wizarding society could do is to teach them about the Muggle world. But they are left to fend on their own, not welcome in the magical world, and no idea how to live in the Muggle world."
"But what would they learn at Hogwarts?"
"The obvious answer to that is 'Muggle studies'. But it wouldn't hurt either if there were some Muggle subjects taught in Hogwarts. Computers, languages…."
"Latin wouldn't be very useful for squibs, but it would be useful for wizards, to invent new spells," he added.
"Latin?"
"Yes, many spells are derived from Latin which is an interesting field in itself, but you get my point…"
John Greggs was furiously scribbling in his papers. Many Hufflepuffs didn't even pretend to eat breakfast any longer. Even at the Ravenclaw table and the Slytherin table the students were listening. There was a hushed silence everywhere but at the Gryffindor table.
Greggs turned some of his pages. "The next question might be related to that. What do you think about the sorting?"
Elena Prewett, a freckled girl with braids elbowed him. "Don't skip the important questions!"
Greggs scowled at her. "I'll come to that. The sorting is more important."
"So, you want our opinion on the sorting? And on the houses?" Hermione asked.
Greggs nodded.
Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance.
"We've talked about this very often. There are so many things that don't really add up."
Draco held his index finger up. "One, students are sorted when they are eleven, when they are kids, their characters aren't set, their talents still hidden. Does the hat determine how their character will be? An ambitious Slytherin, a happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff? A brainy Ravenclaw? Does the hat know how their characters will be? Where is the freedom of will in that?"
"Two, students can negotiate with the hat. The hat takes their wishes into consideration."
"Three, how comes that the houses are evenly distributed? In every class all four houses are represented, and evenly more or less."
"Four, it is no secret that house traits are not to be found exclusively in the members of said house. Severus Snape was a Slytherin with courage, Dumbledore was a Gryffindor with a cunning that would have put Salazar to shame."
Hermione raised her hand, spreading her fingers and continued. "Wizards and witches are a small community, a small society and to survive and prosper they need all the characteristics of all the houses. They need the Slytherin drive to survive, their ambition to improve, the Ravenclaw's thirst for knowledge, the occasionally stupid risk affinity of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuff love, friendship and loyalty to patch it all together."
"I think many things influence the sorting: The wishes of the child, what the school needs to be balanced, maybe also what the child needs and not how the child is. An unfocused dreamy girl with much love in her heart might need to get focus in Ravenclaw, a timid little boy might need to learn courage in Gryffindor, an ambitious boy might be put into Hufflepuff to learn about the advantages of friendship. Someone who is already very brave might need to learn how to survive with cunning in Slytherin."
Draco took over from her. "The child's actual character that is still malleable at eleven might be the least important contribution to the sorting."
The students had listened with piqued interest. Neville thought that he could actually see them processing these interesting ideas. The timid little boy was him. He had known for quite some time, that he had not started with Gryffindor courage. The girl with love in her heart was Luna.
"Why were you sorted into Slytherin, Mr Malfoy?"
"I think mostly because I could not have fathomed to be sorted anywhere else."
"And you Mrs Granger-Malfoy? Why Gryffindor?"
"The hat wanted to put me into Ravenclaw. I think he put me into Gryffindor because he knew I needed courage."
"Now to another very important question," Greggs picked up his notes again. "Snape or Dumbledore?"
"In what regard?" Hermione asked, while Draco said "Snape" with conviction.
"Who was the greater wizard?"
"That was Snape." Hermione winked. "If you had asked who was more manipulative and cunning. I would have answered Dumbledore."
Greggs was elbowed again by Elena Prewett. At the Slytherin table, Neville saw some galleons change hands.
"O.k. o.k. Another very important question. Mr Malfoy, when did you fall in love with your wife?"
Neville had to snicker at Draco's face.
"How is that any of your concern?" he demanded.
"It was crucial for your defection from Voldemort, was it not?"
Draco opened his mouth and closed it again, surprised. "You seem to think that my defection is an iron-clad fact."
"It is not?"
"To me it is, but at my trial I was only given the benefit of the doubt."
"So, when did you fall in love with your wife?" Elena Prewett would not budge.
"I…" Draco was at a loss of words.
"He had a crush on her since forever." Pansy chimed in.
Draco's head snapped to the side, scowling at her.
Pansy grinned. "I was in the same house, Draco. I cannot remember a time where it was not 'Granger this, Granger that', 'did you see her ridiculous mass of hair' 'she was trying to touch the ceiling with her raised finger again' 'how could she even know the answer to that, in what book did she even read that'…. And this was all way before the Yule Ball in fourth year."
Neville toppled almost over with laughing when Draco's cheeks were coloured with a decidedly red hue. This time some Hufflepuffs exchanged galleons. He should probably have prohibited betting before the Granger's visit, but it was way too much fun to stop the students now.
Pansy shook her head. "Just think about it, Draco. You called Neville and me the king and queen of U.S.T…. What does that mean for you?"
Neville grinned, remembering when he had first been introduced to the meaning of U.S.T.
"Next question. Are you friends with Professor Longbottom?"
Hermione answered first. "I've been friends with him since our first ride on the Hogwarts Express. And I would have become friends with his toad Trevor as well if he had made an appearance."
"Can you be friends with someone who sneaks into your kitchen to snitch dough meant for biscuits?" Draco asked.
"I don't snitch dough!" Neville bristled at the suggestion, strictly speaking he tasted dough, very occasionally.
"It's his only vice," Draco was unfazed by Neville's protest. "well, that and the occasional lie about the snitching."
The Hufflepuffs snickered.
"Wow, there goes my credibility. Thanks, Draco."
"You're welcome." Draco smirked.
From the corner of his vision, Neville thought he saw galleons exchanged at the Ravenclaw table, but when he focussed sharply on the offending students, they looked at him with round, innocent eyes.
John Greggs rifled through his notes and was about to find yet another question to ask, when Prudy appeared with a small pop, directly at Draco's elbow and greeted them.
Draco angled for his bag and produced a jar of what looked like jam and gave it to Prudy.
Prudy studied the hand-written label and made a face. "One of your experiments. Quince. Is it any good?"
"I added some cinnamon and lemon. You can always switch off your taste buds. I'm sure you'll get it down."
Prudy shook her head, as if she had just heard the saddest story. "You add lemon to everything. It's a vice."
Neville had long come to the conclusion that Prudy was the most unusual house elf, but she was strangest, when she was in bantering mood and traded insults with Draco. He looked at his clock, and decided it was time to usher the children to class.
Lizzie took her father's hand. "First and second years will be the first to get the demonstration. Am I allowed to shower you with hexes, dad?"
Notes:
This is a rather long chapter, a bit on the fluffy side, but there are also some hints pointing towards the ending of the fic.
Chapter 55: Disturbances in the courtroom (March 18, 2002)
Summary:
Harry gives his testimony at Draco's trial
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco could not help himself. He hoped. Despite having breakfast under the watchful eyes of auror Dawlish, despite several aurors trying to test the scutum and hex him, when he was led out to face what was most probably the last day of his trial, despite the fact that they led him past the board where the aurors had bet on the outcome of the trial, despite Weasel pointing out that the betting odds were highest in the slot where it said 'five years at least', despite the hissing, despite the feeling that he was not in general a lucky person, he hoped.
When he was led into the courtroom, it was almost empty. Draco could see his parents, and Dawlish even allowed his mother to come and speak with him. His father remained seated, his eyes studied him as if he was a stranger.
"Your father is worried about the scutum, but once you're at home, we'll find a way to remove it."
Draco did not believe in false pretences nor in false hope. He shook his head.
"You know that Severus came up with this." He gestured at himself. "And you must have realised, that it was never meant for me. This was Severus' plan C. He wanted to contain Voldemort with this permanent scutum. I sincerely doubt that there is a way to dissolve it."
He might have imagined it, but it looked like his mother paled. Her smile had a bit of a forced quality to it, but she laid her hand on his, despite Dawlish scowling at her.
"You must know, that this doesn't matter to me. You are alive and you might even walk away as a free man. That is all that counts."
He pressed her hand shortly. "I know, mother."
He had no doubt, that his father did not feel the same. His father's eyes were still on him. He wondered what irritated his father more, the fact that his heir wasn't technically a wizard any more, the fact, that at least to him it must have become obvious during the trial, that Draco had lost his faith in 'the cause' for quite some time, or that Draco had not trusted him with that information. His father had refused to be called as witness, claiming that he could not help the son who had not confided his doubts in him, Hermione had informed him. Somehow it had become common knowledge, probably because Lucius Malfoy still wanted his social circle to know that he had nothing to do with his son's defection, a defection that was yet to be proved.
Hermione had been unsure if this leaked knowledge might help him. After all, that Draco had not confided in his father and had only made veiled remarks to his mother might prove how deep his fear had run. Draco had no doubt that Hermione would try her best to spin everything in his favour.
His father had not visited him, nor did Draco believe his mother's frequent alluding to his father sending his regards. Draco wondered if his father would have preferred him to stay hidden or maybe even better dead, if he had had a choice.
Their eyes met across the courtroom when his mother returned to her place and Draco refused to lower his gaze first.
The courtroom did not remain empty. Before long, the room was packed. Draco saw the Weasley clan, journalists from the prophet, the 'interested' public. It made him feel slightly nauseous. He just hoped that he would not have a breakdown if he were sent to Azkaban. He did not doubt that dementors would affect him. They affected muggles after all. And there were so many horrible memories. The dementors would have no problem to suck out the happy hours he had shared with Hermione in a matter of minutes.
Pansy came over. Dawlish eyed her suspiciously, but she squared her shoulders and wished Draco luck, telling him that she was convinced of his defection. Draco saw Longbottom look up at her intentionally loud carrying voice. Pansy was not the only nice surprise. Hermione's parents apparently had been allowed to come, and they also wished him well. Apart from that it was not exactly a string of well-wishers. Draco thought he saw Theo, Daphne, and Blaise from his house. Blaise nonchalantly waved, as if he had spotted Draco across the street and just had not time to come over. At least he did not act as if he did not know Draco.
The people who passed him to curse him were far more. Katie Bell told him she wanted him to rot, and Angelina Johnson ranted about how unfair it was that he had survived, when Fred Weasley had fallen. Others, who had far fewer personal reasons to hate him, were even more vocal and Dawlish had to intervene more than once to keep people from hexing him. Not that any hex would have made an impact, but many people still did not get that.
By the time the trial began, the wizengamot, the judge, the defence and the prosecution had entered, Draco's nerves lay bare. Hermione did not meet his eyes, and Draco was careful to just let his gaze wander over her, no lingering, even though he very much wanted to. Draco was sure she had put on make-up. Her cheeks looked healthy, but something told him that she was pale underneath and that she had slept as little as he had.
Potter entered the witness stand. Draco wondered if Potter could and would savour this moment. At this exact moment, Draco's life and his happiness were in his hands. How would this feel? Would Potter relish in the moment that gave him this power? Just for a little while? Could he see the irony of the situation? He could stay the hero, tell the truth, but by doing this help his enemy escape prison. Or he could have his revenge, make sure Draco was put into prison, knowing that he would have lost the moral high ground forever, even if only Draco and Hermione would know about it. Draco could not have said what he himself would have done if the situation had been reversed. It was one thing to help Potter escape and save his life, so that Voldemort could be put down, and quite another to have power over a man you hated. Other than Draco's good opinion – something Potter did certainly not value – there would be no repercussions if Potter decided on revenge.
Potter took the oath to tell the truth. His hair stuck out in the usual unkempt manner, and Draco thought he looked strained. He was probably the third person who had not slept well this night. He looked straight ahead at a point over the heads of the wizengamot. He let the ridiculous speech of the judge, who thanked the 'chosen one' for his service to the wizarding world wash over him. Draco felt a pang of pity. If Potter had to listen to rubbish like that every day, he must be bored to death by now. If he knew him at all, it certainly would not help his mood.
Judge Prewett finally came to the point: "Mr Potter, the prosecution has called you as witness, and the defence has informed me, that she will not cross-examine your evidence, but she wants to explain this."
Potter nodded and Draco could see that his jaw muscles worked. Hermione stood and went to Potter. At first her voice was low, and Draco thought that he could hear it trembling slightly. But Hermione's voice gained strength.
"You know that this is about justice and truth, not about revenge or petty grudges. You know that your testimony is the most important in this trial and I don't have to remind you of the possible consequences. I've known you to do the right thing many times in your life, Harry. If you decide to be unfair, then there is nothing I can do. No cross-examining would do the accused any good then."
Potter looked positively livid. "Do us both a favour, Hermione, and spare me your lectures."
That was not a very promising beginning. He thought he heard someone snicker. Draco bit his lip so hard, that he drew blood, and clenched his hands to fists.
It took him rather by surprise then, when Potter's testimony turned out rather more favourable than his curt dismissal of Hermione had let Draco expect. Potter had prepared his statement and read it aloud. He was not a good reader, and Draco suspected that it was only the subject that kept the audience awake. Potter's voice sounded strangely flat and detached.
Potter confirmed that Draco had told Crabbe not to kill him, that Draco had snatched the diadem, just before they had all made it out of the Room of Hidden things and came to the conclusion that it was impossible to say, what Draco's intentions had been and whether he had come with Crabbe and Goyle or on his own. He did not mention Draco's bag with the Phoenix Potion, but in all fairness, Draco knew that he could have overlooked that.
Potter told about the day of Dumbledore's death and the Astronomy tower. Draco was surprised to learn that Potter had been there. He more or less confirmed what Draco had told when he had been questioned. That he had taken the mark when his mother's life was threatened. That he had shied from killing Dumbledore. Again, Potter did not comment on Draco's reasons.
The fateful day at the manor came last. Sloane was not too happy with Potter's answers so far and questioned him sharply.
"So, did Mr Malfoy recognize you? Mr Weasley seemed to think that the stinging hex had been successful in disguising you."
"You can say many things about Malfoy," Potter answered. "But he is not stupid. Of course, he knew it was me. There was Ron, there was Hermione, I mean even people considerably less intelligent than Malfoy would have realized, that the third person was me."
The judge had to call for order then. Everybody had begun to talk at once.
Draco's heart beat fast and hard against his rips. This was it, wasn't it? That was his ticket to freedom. He searched for Hermione's gaze, but she sat silent, her whole body strained.
"So, you would say, that Mr Malfoy tried to save you?"
Potter shrugged. "There is a wide range between 'not being exactly thrilled to witness a classmate, even one you detest, be tortured and killed' and 'trying to save the person you know could bring down Voldemort'. I would say that anything between these two is feasible. Although I do think, that I understand him in some ways, I am not able to look into Malfoy's brain and he might not be able to tell himself what was his reasoning behind not identifying me."
The judge had to call for order again. Draco felt anger rise in his guts. Bloody Potter. He told the truth and yet he had managed to make Draco's actions look rather suspect. At the same time, he wondered if he would have done the same in Potter's stead.
Sloane seemed to see an opening. "What do you think Mr Malfoy's intention was?"
"I honestly can't say. By now I am quite certain though, that he did try to save Hermione."
Sloane was taken aback. "You do believe that he cast a scutum on her? For three quarters of an hour?"
"If you want me to answer that I would have to elaborate."
Draco's mind reeled. What was Potter's angle? What did he want to prove?
"Please do, Mr Potter." Sloane clenched his teeth. He did not seem to have doubts that Potter's testimony played into Draco's hands. Draco was not so sure.
Potter turned to Draco. "Hm, Malfoy, what do you think? Should I unbury your little secret? Your dirty little secret?"
The judge called for order again. Draco risked a glance at Hermione. Even under the make-up it was clear that she had paled. Her eyes were wide. Draco felt the sudden urge to run to her. He had difficulty looking away, and when his eyes met Potter's he saw the corners of his mouth quirk slightly as if Draco just had confirmed something.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Draco answered. His mind was close to being overwhelmed by a vague dread.
"You will talk when you are in the witness stand. Stay silent," Dawlish reprimanded him.
Draco pressed his lips together.
Judge Prewett look up. "Oh, by no means, let him talk, Dawlish. This might get very interesting. Carry on, Mr Potter."
"Well, it is no secret, that Malfoy and I never got along, that we hate each other. There is something like the clear sight of hate, though. Malfoy always knew which buttons he had to push to rile me up and I think I know him equally well."
Potter turned to Draco again, and smiled. It was a cold smile. Draco concentrated on pressing his teeth together. Pointing out that anybody could see Potter's buttons that were of a glaring red colour would not help him now.
Potter opened the briefcase he had brought and took out a notebook. Draco recognised it. It was his notebook. His notebook, with his drawings, made as an anchor for his memories.
"Maybe the esteemed wizengamot remembers that the muggle Dr Williams told us that Malfoy remembered the Yule Ball, but did not remember the colour of his crush's dress. Why would he not remember that detail? Unless it was a memory he stored away. But why would he need to store that away? It was nothing but a dance."
Draco desperately tried to avoid looking at Hermione. What was Potter's intention? What did the Yule Ball have to do with anything?
"Well, let's remember why he stored his memories away? He thought his occlumency was not good enough to block Voldemort."
"The conclusion is that the information of who his crush is, had to be hidden from Voldemort. Why would that be the case, hmm, Malfoy?"
Draco stared at Potter, desperately trying to control his emotions. He did not want his love for Hermione discussed in the whole courtroom. Not so much for himself, as he had little to lose, but for Hermione. He pressed his hands on his knees. He shook his head slightly, in a vain effort, to plead for silence, but Potter kept going.
He held up the notebook. "These are the drawings Malfoy made to regain his memories. Dr Williams has told us, that he drew his crush."
Potter leafed through the notebook. "Let's have a look, shall we? Hmm. Hermione Granger, looks like it's fifth year, with her prefect badge. Hermione Granger, lifting her finger in class, fourth year, I'd say. Hermione Granger, bent over a cauldron in potions, sixth year perhaps? There are even older ones, Hermione Granger on the bench of the quidditch arena, looks like first year, I'd say."
"Over the half of these drawings are of Hermione. The drawings are scattered all over our school years, they show events well back into first year, well back to our first ride on the Hogwarts train when Hermione helped Neville Longbottom search his toad. And while everyone else in his notebook does get rather unflattering subscriptions, it is just 'Hermione' under every picture he drew of her."
Potter gave the notebook to Sloane who leafed through it, eyebrows raised, and passed it on to the wizengamot. While Potter's voice had been flat and detached when he gave his statement there could be no doubt that he was deeply involved now.
The silence in the courtroom was heavy. Draco pressed his lips together, balling his hands to fist. He barely registered that Dawlish stood alert. Did Potter not realise what he did? Draco locked his eyes to Potter's, still not looking at Hermione and got the sinking feeling, that Potter knew exactly what he did.
"Some of you might be surprised. Malfoy was never nice to Hermione after all. He insulted her, bullied her, ridiculed her, called her a mudblood. Once you understand it, it is easy, though. He was always so full of his own importance, the Malfoy heir, pureblood, rich, gifted wizard. It must have been infuriating to see this muggleborn witch who beat him in every class but potions, intelligent, and who was so thoroughly and utterly unimpressed by him."
Potter turned to him. "To be ignored, that would not do, Malfoy, would it? That was unbearable. So, you made sure, that she noticed you, didn't you? Did you even know why you did it? When did you realise? At the Yule Ball? You must have realised at some point or you would not have stored memories of Hermione away. Your obsession with the witch you called a dirty mudblood."
Draco did not answer, but he didn't need to. The courtroom was so silent, that he was sure, that everyone would notice his heavy breathing. Potter's little speech hit so close, that Draco was tempted to look at his breast to check if Potter had somehow cast a sectumsempra on him again, if there was blood all over him.
It hit him then. Sympathizers of Voldemort would hate him for betraying their ideas in such a blatant manner, and the order and Hermione's friends just were reminded how he had been. They probably would be angry about him daring to raise his eyes to their precious Hermione. Draco risked a look at the Weasley family. The Weasel's face was an alarming shade of red.
Potter turned to Sloane again. "This is why I am certain, that Malfoy tried to save Hermione. And yes, I do think he cast the scutum on her. For how long is impossible to say. I do think, he might have managed to cast it longer than five minutes. He probably was desperate, and he was at that moment, the master of the Elder Wand, a wand that enables the wizard to do deeds unheard of."
Potter did not need to confirm, that Draco had done nothing to actively save Potter. Everybody knew that that had been Dobby.
"Did you even tell her, you love her? Or rather that you are obsessed with her?"
Not to answer was not really an option. He could not deny Hermione, he would not deny her, even if Potter had somehow managed to twist his love to look as if it were something ugly.
"Yes, I told her," he admitted. "I love her with all my heart."
His voice rang in his ears. He did not look at Potter again. His eyes were searching for Hermione. She looked distraught, her hands raised as if she wanted to plead for something, for what Draco could not tell, nor if she wanted to plead with him or with Potter.
Draco looked at Potter again who studied him with disdain.
"You're still such an entitled brat, aren't you? You told her. I don't even know, how, but you manipulated her into helping you. You probably told her, she owes you for saving her. Yes, you made an effort to save her, but it was Dobby who brought her away. Dobby who died for that, killed by your aunt."
Potter drew a deep breath and continued. "If you would love her, truly love her, you would not think about yourself, nor would you utilize her and her good heart to keep you out of prison. You would not ruin everything for her, her first case, her career, her engagement, all in shambles, because you just cannot bear not to be noticed, not to get her attention."
"What's this supposed to prove?" Draco shouted. "That I did it all for the wrong reasons? That it is somehow not enough that I didn't do it for everybody's sake?"
"She doesn't owe you shit, ferret," Potter shouted back. "and I wish I knew what you did to make her think she does."
"But you owe her, Potter, you owe her." Draco was done with Potter. "She saved your sorry arse more than once, and if you had not been so bloody stupid to speak Voldemort's name you wouldn't even have been caught that day. Fine friends you are, you and the Weasel. You endangered her, going to Godric's Hollow directly into Nagini's lair, speaking you-know-who's name, making her wear the face of my deranged aunt for your visit to Gringotts, and the Weasel even abandoned you both. Hermione does not need you to make her decisions for her."
Draco hadn't even realised that he had stood up and taken a step towards Potter. Potter also had come closer to him. Dawlish blocked him and pointedly gestured at his hands, that were balled into fists.
"That is quite enough," Judge Prewett said. He obviously hadn't expected to be that entertained.
Draco blinked and came to himself. Hermione shook her head, vehemently, and he sat down again. He had just reminded everyone that he hated Potter, Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world. He closed his eyes. Not a very smart move. Not very Slytherin.
"Could you sum up your statement, Mr Potter" Sloane asked. He looked very smug.
"Malfoy did not want to kill Dumbledore, he might have wanted to help in the Room of Hidden Things. He definitely failed to identify me on purpose that day at the manor, probably to buy time, not necessarily for me, but for Hermione. If this counts as defection is something the wizengamot has to decide."
"He's a selfish git, who has an unhealthy obsession with my friend, but that is not a punishable offence. No matter how he walks out of this court, if he goes to Azkaban or he walks out as a free man, if I see him never again, it will be too soon."
Potter sat down. "Was that enough truth for you, Hermione?" he asked.
Draco felt the air leave his lungs and fought to keep upright. He would not give Potter the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected him. Potter had managed what should have been impossible. He had confirmed that Draco had worked against Voldemort but in such a way, that it would not endear Draco to any of the factions in the wizengamot. It would be Azkaban for him. He would just look at Hermione for the rest of the trial, trying to burn her into his memory. There was no point in denying himself that little comfort.