This Bitter Earth

by Ikorous

Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything bac

25. TWENTY FIVE

A/N: I want to thank everyone who left comments for me on the last chapter (and all the ones who are reading along and commenting on the way). I am doing my damnest to reply to all the new ones because I believe that if you take the time to comment, then I can take the time to at least say thank you. If I have missed yours, know that I am trying to catch up with some of the older ones, but I do read each and every comment and I appreciate them so much. Like, you don't even know. Getting feedback helps me write honestly and knowing there are people out there who care about this story and these characters as much as I do just makes me want to keep going!

As far as "going" I know I keep changing my mind about how many chapters there will be, but sometimes it is hard to tell until I actually sit down to write them. Over the past few months with my job change I have had more time to write and right now we are looking at 27 chapters and a short epilogue. So, everyone say a big thank you to my long suffering beta, Bree, who has to put up with me adding more things in and keeping it going when it was supposed to be a hell of a lot shorter than this.

Anyway, enjoy dear readers.

Soundtrack- "Exile/Vilify" by The National (Matthew Koch) and "The Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars

TWENTY FIVE

.

"This is completely unjustified!"

"Miss Granger—"

"Is this how the new Ministry treats people? Arresting them under false charges and holding them in isolation? He was working with us, for Godric's sake!"

"You have to consider—"

"And who is considering Draco? Tell me that, Kingsley! He'd been gravely injured when he was arrested—has anyone even treated him?"

"I assure you—"

"I don't want your assurance!" Hermione shouted. "I want to see Draco Malfoy. NOW!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt slammed his hands down against his desk and pushed himself up. "What would you have me do? The boy is a Death Eater. People are dead because of him, your best friend included."

Hermione fought a recoil at the mention of Harry, instead she dug her heels in and let her indignation drive her on. "Voldemort killed Harry, not Draco!"

"Hermione, please." Kingsley rubbed his temples. "I understand you feel strongly about this matter—"

"You would too if you opened your eyes and saw the truth!" Her throat was tight and Hermione tried to keep her emotion from bleeding into her voice. "Draco gave the Order essential information that helped save lives and you are going to let them send him away because he was forced to take that mark! He was still underage when he agreed to take it and only did that under coercion! He didn't…" Hermione was out of breath, not even realizing in her rant she had emptied her chest. "He didn't want to be a Death Eater and in the end, Kinglsey, he wasn't!"

She balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking in front of the new Minister of Magic. The last thing she wanted was to be written off as an overly emotional teenage girl, well, second to last thing she wanted. She didn't care what people thought of her as long as it meant Draco walked free.

"Just because he no longer bears the dark mark does not absolve him of the crimes he committed." Kingsley must have picked up on her deteriorating state because his answer had been given in an even and diplomatic tone, but instead of dissuading her, it just made her even more angry.

Hermione didn't want to be calm. She wanted Draco.

She took a deep breath, ready to start another tirade if need be. "I understand that. What I don't understand is why no one is listening to the reasoning behind why he did those things!"

Kingsley pursed his lips. "Evil things can be done in the name of good."

"I am well aware." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "This wouldn't be the first time the Ministry sentenced a man to Azkaban without hearing the full story. You were working for them too, weren't you, Kingsley?"

Hermione met Kingsley's glaring gaze until he finally shook his head and dropped back into his seat. She knew it was a low blow; Kingsley had worked closely with Sirius when he was still alive on Order business. It wasn't exactly fair to throw Sirius' imprisonment in Kingsley's face, but what was happening to Draco right now was also unfair and Hermione didn't feel like playing nice right now.

"This time is different," he tried to explain. "They weren't hiding and operating from the shadows. They took power and we all know who the Death Eaters really were. The risk that one of them…" Kingsley's face was dark when he turned it back to her. "Enough people have died, I won't risk anymore lives for one of them."

"He's one of us," Hermione said, her voice catching in her throat. Them… but Draco wasn't one of them, he was… he was her Draco. "I know that anyone who was a Death Eater is going to Azkaban, but Draco… Draco is different!"

The Ministry was struggling since the war ended. Many people fled during the war or went into hiding and not all of them had come back out yet. The ones that did were trying to put their lives back together and that included reforming the Ministry after Voldemort had warped and twisted it to his design. Many Death Eaters had been captured after the battle, Draco included, and like any prisoners of war, they didn't get the right of a trial.

Collaborators got hearings, but anyone with the dark mark was to serve the rest of their life in Azkaban.

Kingsley took a deep breath. "We don't know that."

"I do!" Hermione shouted.

"What am I supposed to tell the people he tortured? Or the people he sold out? What about their families? That we aren't prosecuting him? I'll have another uprising on my hands and the Ministry is barely functioning as it is. Rules must be followed—Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater and will be sent to Azkaban like the rest of—"

"This is the precedent you want to start with the new Ministry?! That people don't have rights? That their Minister can just do as he pleases?" The creature in Hermione's chest roared and even though she knew she shouldn't, Hermione let it. "What were we even fighting the war for? What did Harry die for?! This is what Voldemort would do, not you."

Kingsley's dark eyes blazed for a moment and Hermione could practically see him holding back what he really wanted to say.

"Draco helped us defeat him," she lowered her volume, but kept her tone just as firm. "I'm not saying everything he did was right, Godric knows I know that better than anyone, but… not everything he did was wrong either."

Kingsley rubbed a hand over his head and Hermione held her breath as he pulled it back, letting it drag over his face. He looked tired, dark circles hung under his eyes and stubble dotted his cheeks. She felt a pang of pity; when was the last time Kingsley had gotten out of this office?

She could understand how drained he must have felt. She had barely slept in a week herself. Every waking moment had been devoted to trying to have Draco released or at least let her visit him. If this didn't work… Hermione felt her throat tighten. She didn't know what she would do.

She was running out of options and Draco was running out of time.

Swallowing, Hermione opened her mouth to mount her defense again when Kingsley waved his wand, sending a shining silver lynx jumping out of it and through the door. With a sigh, Kingsley watched it disappear behind her. "Draco Malfoy can have a hearing." Hermione's heart lept in her chest. "For what he did," Kingsley looked pointedly at Hermione. "All of it, his sentence will be decided by the Wizengamont."

With the next beat of her heart, it crashed back down inside her. The same people who decided all Death Eaters were sentenced to Azkaban? What good would this do?!

"But—"

"It is not up for debate."

"Why not?" Hermione snapped.

"You wanted fair? This is the answer," Kingsley said with finality. "I suggest you go home and get some rest. You've been yelling at me for over an hour. I think we both need to calm down before we say anything we regret." He sat down, scooted his chair in, and refused to look at her anymore.

Hermione felt painfully powerless. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pull the elder wand out and make them all listen to her. She would have, if she was in possession of it, but when Draco had been taken, it had been too and Hermione assumed it was locked up in the bowels of the Ministry, same as him. She still had his hawthorn, and was lucky to because many people had lost their wands and never gotten them back. But during the course of the war she had lost so much more than just a wand… It wasn't right for them to keep it from her, but Hermione was more concerned with Draco than the most powerful wand in the world.

She could worry about the wand once she got him out. Draco didn't belong down there with the other prisoners anymore than she did. Draco had fought for them! He destroyed a bloody horcrux! He wasn't the same person who had done all those terrible things. Or… was he? She had always thought it was the Malfoy side of him that did the horrible things to others, but it was Draco, the man who loved her, who had done the worst things like leaving Ron to die and taking Harry into the Forest. Hermione bit her lip. It was the best part of him, that did the worst things. And Godric help her, she loved him for it. She loved all of him.

Kingsley picked up a quill and started jotting down notes on a piece of parchment, acting like they hadn't just been at each other's throats.

Hermione collected herself enough to ask, "Can I at least see him?"

"Inmates are not permitted to have any visitors outside the auror office."

"Just a few minutes," Hermione found herself… begging. "That's all I'm asking. I haven't seen him since…" Since Harry died. Since McGonagall died. Since Hagrid and Fred and countless others died. She wanted to see Draco to make sure he was alright, but also a private, selfish part of her wanted to see him so he could make her feel alright.

She'd lost so many people. Draco was the last one… the only one, she had left.

Kingsley paused his writing and softly said, "I'm sorry, Miss Granger. Truly, I am."

"No you're not," Hermione answered, voice shaking. "Not yet at least."

Kinglsey's eyes darted up to her before Hermione turned to storm out of his office. As she reached for the door, it opened and Ron of all people stood there, dressed in a crisp new Auror suit.

"Hermione."

"Get out of my way, Ronald."

"He's here to escort you out," Kingsley said from behind her.

"I don't need an escort!"

Ron leaned in close to her. "Don't make a scene, Hermione. It will only make things worse."

He made to take hold of her arm, but Hermione jerked away from him. "Touch me and you'll get much more than a scene," she warned.

Ron's brows dropped and he blushed a deep red. "Threatening an Auror is an offense."

She laughed bitterly, eyes bright with her sparking anger. "Are you going to arrest me, Ronald?"

Ron didn't say anything, he just looked at her with that same expression of disappointment he had given her so many times at Shell Cottage. Hermione raised her chin and stared back at him, almost daring him to do it.

"No," he finally muttered. His new boots squeaked as he shifted uncomfortably in front of her.

"That's the first smart decision you've made in a while," Hermione said waspishly. Then with a glance behind her at Kingsley, she added to Ron, "And that badge on your chest means you are an Auror in training. You still have time to make another smart decision before you take a position working for this farce of a government."

Ron looked like he had been slapped. "Hermione, we are trying to set things right."

She glared at him. "Just because they gave you a uniform doesn't mean what they are telling you to do is right."

His freckles scrunched as his face flushed, turning into a familiar angry expression. "Is that what you told him too?"

"Weasley!" Kingsley called out. "You are not to discuss the prisoners with civilians. You know this. Escort Miss Granger to the atrium and then report back to your commanding officer."

Ron gave a curt nod. "Yes, sir."

"Don't bother," Hermione said harshly. "Go polish your badge, Ronald. Maybe if you stare into it long enough, you'll see what a hypocrite you've become."

She turned on her heel, wanting to be out of there and away from the people she had once fought beside. She couldn't understand why they wouldn't just listen to her! Draco didn't deserve this. Harry would have and Hermione's chest tightened at the memory of him. He wouldn't have stood for this either and at least… at least she would have someone on her side. At least she would have still had a friend.

"Hermione, wait." Ron's hand closed over her upper arm as she reached the end of the dark tiled hallway and Hermione spun on him. A few loose curls fell into her face and she used the excuse to push them back to hide the fact that she was wiping hot, angry tears from her eyes.

"What is it?" she snapped.

Ron glanced around, waiting until a few witches moved off into an office before taking a step closer to her. Hermione pulled her arm out of his hand and she watched something pass over his expression before he leaned down. "Do you remember where we stashed the people we polyjuiced ourselves into?"

"Of course." The answer spilled from her lips and a ghost of a smile almost crossed Ron's face as if he was remembering the young girl who used to jump to answer a professor's question in school. Hermione felt embarrassment bloom in her cheeks and looked away quickly.

"I've got overnight watch on Thursday. There will be a short time when my partner will be on break. I can leave Harry's cloak for you." Ron said after a beat, "Meet me at midnight."

Hermione's eyes darted in between his, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "Why?"

Ron's cheek twitched, making the freckles on his face dance for just a moment. "I can take you to him."

Was… was Ron… helping her? Helping… Draco?

Hermione narrowed her eyes and repeated "Why?"

Ron looked at his shoes and took a breath. "Ever since Harry… Well…" he glanced back up at her from under light lashes. "Look, do you want to see him or not?"

Hermione eyed her once best friend. Ron had changed so much, but… so had she. Was there a part of them that hadn't? That stayed those two kids who never fit in anywhere except with each other? If anyone in the world could understand how she felt since Harry died, it would be Ron. Maybe… maybe that's why he was doing this.

"I'll be there," Hermione whispered.

Ron's mouth tightened then he took a step back, cleared his throat, and said, "Don't be late."

.

Draco sat slumped against the wall in the farthest corner he could get to. Every now and then the darkness lit up with crackling blue light as one of the other prisoners got too close to the bars of their cell. Or when the Aurors came down and pulled someone out. Draco had watched as cell by cell, day by day, they emptied.

He tilted his head up, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as it tightened. Even before they started taking people, they hadn't been as full as the last time Draco saw them. He knew these cages, they were the same ones that the Muggleborns had been held in. The ones he had helped fill.

Draco wondered if they had felt like this, scared and alone, wondering if they would ever get out of here. Or if it would be worse if they did.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think about that or how many he had put in here.

He hadn't really wanted to, but that didn't seem to matter now. Neither did the fact that he had fucking given the Order information and helped Potter plan stealing the cup. Or that he had killed the goddamn snake and… It didn't fucking matter. Everything he had done, he had done for her—Hermione—and… and they had taken her from him.

The last thing he could remember was that motherfucking Weasel holding her back as they dragged him off. Then he'd woken up here, in a cell, to the sounds of screaming and shouting. He'd rushed to the bars, trying to see out, but was blinded by the bright white-blue light. Blinded, but not hurt.

Draco looked down at his hand wrapped around the bar, lightning crackling up his arm. And didn't feel a fucking thing.

He let go, jumped back, chest heaving. His arm was a shiny, burned mess of freshly scarred skin. A quick healing charm had been cast on the surface, sealing in the wounded flesh. With the little light he had down here, Draco looked down at the taunt, new skin, still smeared with ash and char, and was glad he couldn't feel it.

Granger had done it, she had removed his mark, but that didn't seem to matter to anyone else. Over the last few days, the skin had continued to grow back, but it twisted into scars. The leftover ink slithered through the tissue as it healed, leaving strange patterns in his new skin. He spent hours staring at it in the darkened light.

Draco never thought he'd see his arm without the mark and it looked… well it looked like shit, but… it was his again. And all he wanted to do was hold his girl with it, to feel Hermione safe with him. That's what all of his had been for, that's why he was here, but all he was left with was the slow creep of pain as the burned nerves began to sew themselves back together and his flesh grow back as white scars with streaks of grey shot through it.

The more it healed, the worse it got.

He could suffer through the pain, he was used to his arm aching constantly, although he wouldn't have said no to a bottle of fire whisky. Or a case of it, honestly. What he couldn't stand was the empty feeling in his chest, slowly filling up with an acrid poison, burning him in an entirely different way than her fiendfyre had. This was cold, caustic, and bitter.

This was what he was without her. Who he had been last year. That was why he was here. Draco held out his arm, the new, strangely smooth skin glinted sickly in the low light. The mark was gone, yes, but underneath was still him. Just as scarred and fucked up as he'd always was.

"Not so pretty now, huh, pretty boy?" Greyback had called from the cell across from Draco.

The silver fangs had been taken from him and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, dripping with saliva.

Draco's lip curled. "Still better looking than you, dog."

The werewolf jumped up. "If I weren't in his cage, I'd rip your throat out for that."

"Down, boy." Draco rolled his eyes. "Sit."

Greyback growled from deep within his chest. "You fuckin'—"

"I already know what I am," Draco looked down at his arm and whispered, "useless."

The next day they had taken Greyback out.

He didn't come back.

In fact, no one they took came back.

He overheard the words "transport" and "Azkaban" before his ears started ringing and a cold sweat broke out over his body. An image of his father flashed before his eyes, bloodshot eyes and thin skin tattooed with numbers, sigils, and runes. Draco looked down at his right hand where the Malfoy ring sat, heavy and cold. He curled his fingers into a fist and threw it into the wall.

He let the blood drip over it, sliding into the cracks and crevices of the design until it didn't fucking shine anymore. An itching numbness spread up to his shoulder. That was better than nothing and better than agony that grew each day, which, he supposed, was all he could ask for at this point.

After that, Draco had settled in the corner of his cell and tried shifting through the shattered walls of his mind, hoping to pile the rubble up enough to block out everything else. The numbing ache resonated through him until it shook the broken foundations of every wall he tried to put up. Even simple, wandless relief charms didn't work and so Draco sat in the darkness and tried not to count everything he'd lost. His freedom, his magic… His girl.

Every now and then, when the Aurors changed shifts they would walk through the cages and shine a lit wand in his face. Sometimes they called him names. Sometimes they laughed at him. Mostly they just ignored him, coming to take a Death Eater out and empty another cell.

Draco would just curl his burned arm into his chest and closed his eyes tightly. He tried to count to three in his head to calm down but all he could think about was her.

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione.

She beat through his skull like blood.

"Malfoy."

Fuck.

This was it.

His time was up.

Draco knew he should fight, knew he should try everything within his power to get them to listen, to understand, but… he was scared. Terrified.

He'd seen what Azkaban could do to a person. How it could take them and fuck them up until what came out was a shadow of who they were before. Azkaban left its own kind of scars, ones upon the soul.

Draco couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His chest felt tight, like something was coiling around him and squeezing. His heart hammered so loud for a moment it was all he could hear, then—

"Get up."

Draco lifted his head and looked for who had called his name from under heavy hooded eyes. When he recognized who it was, they narrowed into slits. His hair was shorter and he wore an Auror's uniform, but it was the same dumb fucking expression on his pock marked face.

"Weasley."

"Yeah," he said, voice tense. "It's me."

Draco leaned forward slightly, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure in his chest.

It didn't.

"Did you request to be the one to take me?" Draco sneered. "Bet this is the best night of your life, finally getting rid of me." Weasley's face started turning red and he cast his eyes to the side before turning to glower at Draco again.

Draco was taking in short, small breaths and heard the strain in his own voice when he said, "Want to hear about the best night of my life? Oh wait, you walked in on it, didn't you? When I was balls deep in—"

"That is quite enough, Draco Malfoy!"

Draco slammed his body back against the wall as Granger's disembodied head hung in the air, curls flung around her face which had the prettiest fucking blush on her round cheeks.

He sat there, stunned for a moment, unable to think or breathe, or… anything, but stare up at her face. Then the rest of her appeared and she folded Potter's invisibility cloak up over her arm.

Granger was… here.

She was here.

She was…

"Hermione!"

He was on his feet, or at least, trying to be. In reality, Draco was scrambling across the floor, wincing when he accidently used his left arm to try and push himself up. The sudden movement sent waves of pain up his arm, more than he had felt in days, but he didn't care. Not as long as he got to feel Granger wrapped up in them, at least one more time.

"Keep it down!" Weasley harshly whispered, looking behind him to make sure no one had heard.

"Draco…" Granger said his name so softly and Draco felt cracks run through the veins of his marble walls, threatening to shatter and break.

He reached for her, wanting, needing, to touch her, feel her, but when his hand neared the bars, they sparked to life, sending curls of blue magic surging into him.

Draco hissed and recoiled, pain flashing through his nerves and making white lights appear in his vision.

"Ron, can you turn that off?" Granger asked, taking her eyes off of him for just a moment and Draco pulled his body as close to the bars as he could get.

The weasel tapped his wand on the iron bars and the blue sparks stopped. The second they did, Draco stuck his hands through, grabbing onto his girl and pulling her into his arms. It didn't matter that one arm was burned to fuck and the other covered in dried blood. All that matters was that she was in them. He breathed in deeply and felt a pressure build up behind his eyes as he smelled her sweet cinnamon and vanilla.

"Fucking hell…"

"Draco—" Granger rasped. "Draco, you're crushing me."

It was then that he felt the cold iron bars digging into the scars on his chest. He let go, but didn't take his hands from her, only moved them up to cup her face.

"Oh, Sweetheart…" His voice was shaking and so were his hands.

Granger smiled at him.

Draco pulled her in as he hunched his shoulders, leaning down to press his lips against hers. He made sure that the bars were pressing into his face and not hers. He didn't want to hurt her and… well, what was a little more pain to him?

"Mm, Draco," Granger said against his lips and he captured them once more. "I don't… much time." Her hands were on his chest and Draco's heart beat so hard it hurt. She let out a small little moan and her fingers curled over his heart and Draco grinned when he felt her lips spread into a smile again.

Placing one last kiss against her lips, Draco withdrew.

Granger's hands slid over him and Draco exhaled, his body relaxing under her touch.

Her brows pulled and a cute little worry line appeared in between them. It was then he noticed how drawn and tired her face looked. Draco rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, hoping to smooth away a bit of the bad.

"How… how are you?" Granger's big doe eyes were practically pouring into him and Draco felt his throat bob as he tried to drink down every inch of her face. Fuck, he had missed her. "How's your arm?"

He glanced down at it, at the flow of scars that now replaced the mark. If he thought his chest was bad, it was nothing compared to this. The ink was faded to grey, twisted around the raised and dented flesh like veins in marble. Some parts were still red and raw and Draco hoped she wasn't too disgusted by the way he looked now.

His outsides were finally matching his insides. Ugly, twisted, and fucked up.

Granger went to touch it, but pulled back, biting her lip as he watched a dozen thoughts speed through her mind.

"Does it hurt much?"

He should lie to her. He should tell her what she needed to hear and not let her know how bad it was. Granger pursed her lips and Draco remembered kissing them. And promising her.

No more lies.

"It…" Draco's face fell. "I, uh, I can't really feel it all that much, most of the time." He left out the part that his elevated pulse at seeing her was causing it to flare back to life, burning so much it almost felt… frozen.

Granger's eyes flashed as she searched his for more answers. He didn't really want to get into it. It wasn't like he had planned on talking to Granger this evening, but now that she was here… he figured he owed it to her to tell the truth. Or at least, as much of it that he could muster without breaking down himself.

Draco tried to ignore Weaslebee shifting from one foot to the other in the corner of his vision. "Can you fuck off?" he growled.

Weasley's face flushed and Draco sneered back at him.

"I told you," Weasley raised his wand, "don't tell me what to fucking do."

"Ronald, please!"

Cold poison shot through Draco's veins, making his scars tighten and twinge at hearing Granger say those words like that to another man. Draco gripped her face tighter and pulled her big brown eyes back onto him.

"Hurry it up!" Weasley snapped, but at least had the decency to turn around.

Granger's face turned serious. "What do you mean you can't feel it?"

Draco inhaled. "It… it's uncomfortable, but in a numb way. I know it's there and every now and then I can feel it burning..." He trailed off, not wanting her to feel guilty for what she had done to him.

"You need to see a Healer!"

Draco let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, fat chance of that in here. I doubt I'll ever see daylight again, let alone a Healer." He swallowed dryly and forced the words from his mouth. "Do you know, uh… when they are taking me?"

No one else had gotten visitors, but maybe Granger being here meant his time had come. The cells were getting emptier by the day.

Granger shook her head, making her curls toss and twist. "You're not going."

Something strong and bright flared in Draco's chest. "What?"

Granger's eyes shone like burnt cinnamon. "I talked to Kingsley—" Draco clenched his jaw to stop from cursing the new Minister's name. "—and you're going to get a hearing."

Draco blinked.

Granger started to get excited. "You get to tell your side of things, to the whole court! And once they know everything you did, there's no way they will—"

"Let me go free," he ended bitterly.

"Don't say that!" Granger argued. "You fought for us. For me!"

"Yeah, I also…" Draco glanced at Weasley's back, "did a lot of other things for you, pet, and once they hear about all that I'll be lucky not to get the dementor's kiss." Granger's eyes went even larger than normal. "A trial will only make things worse, trust me."

"Why won't you trust me?" Hermione pulled back from him. Draco's hands fell from her face. "Why won't you…" She glanced down at his scarred arm and then back up to him. "Why won't you even try?!"

"I did try!" Draco shouted. "The fuck you think I've been doing ever since you told me you fucking loved me last year? I've been trying to fix this—all of this!" He didn't want to yell at her, but… he didn't think he could say this any other way without breaking down. "All I ever did was fail! What makes you think this time will be any different?!"

Granger's bottom lip trembled and Draco wanted nothing more than to kiss it, to make the most of these few moments they had. Because… it might be all they would get.

He looked down at the bars in between them. Nothing he had done after they left the Manor mattered, not compared to what he had done before. The only good thing he had done was find Granger and keep her safe. At least when she was the one in the cage they had been together.

But now…

He was more scared of losing Granger than he was of Azkaban. He didn't want her to have to sit there and hear all his crimes, listed out and stacked up against him… Is that how he wanted her to remember him? Or would it make her want to forget all about what they had because the truth of what he'd done would be too much to bear?

Granger was strong, yes, but even everyone had a breaking point. Draco had reached his long ago and he didn't want to push her to hers. He didn't want her to feel like… like this.

"Granger,"

"No." She shook her head again.

"Just listen—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Her eyes were brimming with tears, making them shine in the darkness. "I know what you've done, all of it. And I know why. If…" She took a large breath and her chest rose dramatically. "If you're guilty, then so am I."

His heart beat a little faster and whether it was from nerves or excitement, he didn't know.

"So you've got to try, Draco," she said quietly. "Because… I can't do this without you. You're… you're all I have left."

Weasley cleared his throat.

Draco's mouth went dry.

"Please," Granger begged in her sweet voice. "Just… talk to them like you would talk to me."

She went into a small explanation of what he could expect in the morning and told him to be honest, to own up to what he did and explain why, that he needed to show remorse for what he had done and apologize for it.

"You helped Harry," Granger's voice broke when she said Potter's name. "He wouldn't have made it as far as he did without you and… you… you saved me. No other Death Eater is getting a hearing, only you. That has to mean something. It has to mean there is a chance so you have to try, Draco! You've just got to."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Oh yeah, 'Sorry I sold my soul to the Dark Lord and tortured and maimed a bunch of people because I wanted my girlfriend back. Can I go home now? I promise to be good from now on.'" Draco dropped his expression and Granger crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, basically, yes."

Draco looked up at the ceiling "I don't have a chance in hell."

Then he felt Granger's hand on his face, turning it down to hers again. "We've already been through hell, Draco. And we're still here. Don't give up now."

Why not? He turned Blood Traitor and had done what the goddamn Order had asked of him and they still threw him in this fucking cage. And the worst thing was, he knew back then they were going to. They had never promised him anything for his help, anything other than being able to stay at Granger's side a little longer and now that they no longer needed him, they would make sure he'd never stand beside her again.

Draco wished the bars weren't here. He wished he could hold her properly. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so… scared. And alone.

Wait… did she feel like this too? Shit, if she did… Draco looked deep into Granger's innocent eyes. He'd hurt her so many times and… he couldn't stand to do it again. They would never let him out, never let him off. But he'd said anything, he'd said everything.

So he'd try. Even if it took the rest of his miserable life, he'd try and get out, get back. To her. For her. For them.

"Okay," he said in a rough voice. Granger's eyes lit up. "Okay, Sweetheart."

Granger reached through the bars to wrap her arms around his neck and she lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him. "Let them see the man that you are, the man that I love," she breathed out against him. "It'll be okay, Draco."

He nodded. "I know."

"I love you," she murmured.

Weasley tapped his wand on the wall next to them. "Time's up, Hermione. Put the cloak back on."

Draco's heart jumped into his throat and the muscles contracted around it.

"You said we'd have more time!" Granger's voice rose an octave.

"It's already been ten minutes." Weasley snapped a watch shut and tucked it back into his uniform pocket. "Debbins will be back any minute now."

Granger turned back to Draco and bit her lip.

"If you're caught Hermione, we'll both end up in cells down here," Weasley warned and held out Potter's old cloak. "You might be okay with that, but I'm not."

Granger hesitated and Draco felt his chest tighten.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's late and I know you're tired." Draco hated himself for saying those words, but… he hated himself for a lot of reasons. Loving Hermione wasn't one of them though, not anymore, and as much as Draco would love to see Weasley locked up and miserable, he wasn't going to let anyone put his girl in a cage. Not again.

"But…" Granger looked between the two of them. "I've only just got here and the hearing is tomorrow morning! I haven't been able to talk to him about—"

"Tell me tomorrow, yeah?" Draco twisted his face into what he hoped was a reassuring look. Granger seemed to be able to see past it and her bottom lip poked out a little in a cute thinking pout. "After… after, okay?"

He tried to limit his words because his throat was closing up and he wasn't sure what would come out next.

Don't leave me here.

I'm so sorry.

Save me, please.

"After," she repeated, the word ghosting across her lips.

Draco gave her a curt nod and only let his shoulders tense as Weasley draped the invisibility cloak over her, hiding everything but her face from him.

Granger stood up and looked between the two of them and Draco felt a little better when her gaze rested longer on him than Weasley. "But… Draco—"

She had to get out of here before he broke down and everything he had been trying to keep inside came pouring out at her feet.

Draco lifted himself onto his knees.

"Here." He pulled the silver Malfoy ring off his finger, wincing when it slipped over his swollen knuckle, and held it out for her.

He could see Weasley frowning behind her. Good. Let the prick see he could put things on her too, and something more important than some dead fucker's old cloak.

Granger looked down at the ring, confused, and then up to Draco.

"Think of it as a promise," Draco did his best to coat his voice in velvet. "Until…" He looked deep into her big brown eyes. "Until I can get you your own."

She gasped, her cute little mouth opening up in a small o and Draco had to stop himself from reaching forward and grabbing her.

Gingerly, she reached out and picked it up. "Sorry about all the blood." He gave her an imitation of a crooked smile, unable to conjure one fully.

Granger brought it up to her lips and kissed it.

If he wasn't already in love with her, he would have fallen right then.

"I love you," Granger said softly.

Draco didn't say anything, knowing if he opened his mouth, too much would come out. He just stood up, letting her see that he was alright, that everything would be alright. At least for a little while longer.

"You've really got to go," Weasley said, sounding a little desperate now. "Up the stairs and first door on the left. You remember the way out?"

She nodded. Of course she remembered the way out, Draco was pretty sure she could map the whole layout of the Ministry if she wanted. Granger knew everything.

Except maybe, what was going to happen tomorrow. Because if she did, she wouldn't leave him here.

"Go on," Draco encouraged. "I'll be alright down here one more night."

It wasn't a lie. Draco had no doubt this was the last night he'd spend in this cage.

Granger squeezed his hand one more time then pulled the hood of the cloak up and disappeared. A few seconds later, the door opened and closed with a resounding clank.

Draco let out a breath and his chest sagged under his dirty, ripped shirt.

"If she was anyone other than Hermione Granger, she would have been arrested for what she did trying to get you that hearing," Weasley said, still looking at the door. "I hope it's worth it, that's all I'll say."

Draco sized him up for a moment. "Do you really think I have a chance?"

Weasley slowly turned to face him. "I brought her down here to say goodbye. She didn't get to do that with Harry and… I wanted her to have that chance."

So that was it.

They were letting him have a trial, or hearing, or whatever, as a way to appease the golden girl who controlled the elder wand. It had nothing to do with him or the fact that he had helped the Order, or killed the snake, or gave his fucking wand to Harry fucking Potter. Maybe if the Chosen One had chosen to do some other spell than expelled-fucking-armus it would have helped his case, but now, it didn't matter.

It didn't matter why he had taken the mark in the first place or that he had let it be burned off of him.

They'd only ever seen him for what he was, what he'd always be.

Weasley tapped his wand on the bars and Draco jumped back as they crackled to life again for a moment.

Draco glared at him and found Weasley staring back at him just as hard. "Did you think I'd forget what you tried to do to me down here?" He stepped up to the bars, the bright light reflecting strangely in his blue eyes. "I saw who you really were that day and that mark wasn't what made you a Death Eater, Malfoy."

For a moment Draco thought Weasley was going to curse him. There was no one down here who could stop him and Draco had no defense, not even wandless magic. He couldn't do anything, but take a step back from the bars.

Weasley just scoffed and said, "I hope you are shown the same amount of mercy as you showed me tomorrow. It's what you deserve." He headed towards the door and Draco just watched him go, wanting to shout a dozen different insults at him, but found he didn't have the air in his lungs to do so.

When the door slammed shut again, Draco stepped back up to the bars and looked out at the other empty rows around him.

Gritting his teeth, Draco wrapped his hand around one of the iron bars, watching as the blue light crackled and buzzed, illuminating the scarred skin where his mark had once been branded onto his skin.

If they wanted to try a Death Eater tomorrow, he'd sure as hell give them one.

.

Hermione picked at her fingers as witches and wizards filtered into the courtroom. Some were wearing muggle clothing, others in long moth-eaten robes, but they all had serious expressions and were talking closely with those around them, bending their heads down to whisper. Draco's hearing had been reported in the Daily Prophet and had sparked outrage and intrigue across the wizarding community.

"It's ludicrous to entertain this! He's a Death Eater, they've already been sentenced. This is a waste of time and resources."

"Personally I'm happy to see him answer for what he's done. You know Abernathy still can't locate his cousin; it's been weeks and they still haven't seen hide nor hair of him! At least this way, people might get some answers."

The pair passed by, finding their seats in the higher levels of the courtroom and Hermione narrowed in on another conversation of two passing wizards.

"They say he passed information over to the Order during the war."

"Bollocks. Even if he did, spies can't be trusted anyhow. Throw him to the dementors with the rest of his lot."

The lion in Hermione's chest roared and before she could stop herself, she found herself on her feet. "You don't know what you're talking about!" she said a little too loudly. "The information Draco gave was vital in defeating—"

"Please refrain from discussing the case while in the courtroom!" A uniformed guard called out in a thick Irish accent and Hermione's cheeks burned with indignation as she straightened her skirt out and sat back down.

The wizard gave her an odd look and put some distance between them before finding his seat. Hermione fell back into anxious silence. Her head was throbbing, anxiety pulsed with every quick beat of her heart. She hadn't slept last night after leaving Draco, only tossed and turned, wondering if this was the right thing to do after all. She went back and forth, but only succeeded in making her head hurt worse the more she thought about it.

And there was no stopping it now.

She tried to pick at her hands again, but they were shaking so badly she tore a strip of skin from beside her nail. A thin line of red bloomed against her skin and Hermione stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on it slightly as the doors finally slammed shut and the heavy noise made her nearly jump out of her seat.

"Please rise," the guard announced, holding his wand to his throat. The courtroom was packed full and Hermione felt pressure pushing in from every side. "—for the esteemed assembly of the Wizengamont!"

Twin sets of doors opened in the raised portion of the room and witches and wizards streamed forward, taking up their places as judges. It was impossible to miss the empty seats. At least half of the court had not returned or not made it through the war. The pounding in her head intensified.

Hermione felt faint, her legs were locked into place, but she could still feel them shaking. The last to enter was Kingsley Shaklebolt himself and she felt a small pang of guilt at the state of him. He looked even more rough for wear than he had a few days ago. The purple circles under his eyes had deepened, looking more like bruises and his hat was crumpled as if he had slept with it on.

"You may be seated," the guard said as Kinglsey settled himself in, almost collapsing into the chair.

Kinglsey shuffled a few pieces of parchment in front of him then cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today to address the case of the Ministry of Magic versus Draco Lucius Malfoy. Accused of being a Death Eater, supporter of Lord Voldemort—" a hush of whispers whipped around the circular room at the name.

"Quiet!" the guard shouted and sent a few red sparks out of his wand.

"Thank you, Thackery," Kingsley said quietly as the murmurs died down again. He went on, "—charges include kidnapping, trafficking, torture, and murder. Who argues this case in representation of the Ministry?"

"I do," came a familiar nasally voice. Hermione's head cut quickly to the other side of the room where Percy Weasley stood up, slicking back his bright red hair with the palm of his hand. "I, Percival Ignatius Weasley, stand as representative of the Ministry in this case."

Hermione's mouth went dry and as her eyes slid back to the Wizengamot, they caught on Ron's. He had the decency to look a little ashamed, after all, he could have at least told her that his brother was going to be prosecuting Draco.

Ron wouldn't have… given Percy any personal information on Draco or reported back anything he said the other night, would he? Hermione didn't know. The boy she had been friends with at school wouldn't have betrayed her like that, but… since the war… she wasn't sure what Ron was capable of.

He was the one who broke eye contact, setting his jaw and looking at his older brother while Hermione was sure her face was telling every single thought and emotion she was having at the moment. Before Ronald took to her Draco he had told her that he wanted to try and make things amicable between them, for Harry's sake. But if he had really meant that then how could he not have told her? And how could he have—

"Bring up the prisoner," Kinglsey said tiredly and Hermione's attention snapped to the center of the room where the floor creaked and began to open.

There was the rattle of chains and grinding of metal then the top of the… Oh God, the cage, emerged from beneath the floor.

Draco's white blond hair was dirty, but still unmistakable. His head was bent forward, shoulders sloped and arms weighed down by heavy chains. Hermione's heart lurched, pressing against her ribs and beating hard as if it was trying to break through. She glanced down at his arm which was at least covered in a gauzy bandage. Whether it was to hide the wound so as to not elicit sympathy or hide the fact that his mark was indeed gone, Hermione didn't know.

It looked so… terrible last night. Burned and scarred, she had felt sick seeing him like that and knowing she had been the one who did it to him. But his mark was gone, that was good at least, and… it had been healed enough to start to form scars, but they were… Goodness, they weren't like any she had ever seen. They stretched over his forearm, strangely smooth and white scarring with swirls of ink, faded to grey around a few places of burned, red flesh, clotted with blood.

It still looked like his arm, the one he had wrapped around her so many times, but now… it really did look like he was carved from stone. The marbling of the ink, spread and bled through the scar tissue like lines in marble. It was impossible, but… somehow, someway, it made him… even more beautiful to her.

The cage ground to a halt and jolted, rattling the chains as it locked in place. Draco's hair was hanging in front of his eyes, and his face was still turned down when Kingsley addressed him.

"Please state your name for the court," Kingsley said, scribbling something down on his parchment.

Draco didn't speak. He didn't move either; he just sat there, his chest slowly moving as he took long, deep breaths.

Kingsley looked up. "State your name," he said more forcefully.

Still, Draco didn't move and Hermione felt the faint cold shock of nervous sweat breaking out over her skin as the thumping in her head sped up.

Kingsley looked at the guard, Thackery, and nodded. He then walked forward and tapped his wand against the bars of the cage. They lit up with curling blue sparks, jolting Draco from his bent over position and throwing him back against his seat. Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a scream as his chains rattled and shook violently.

It was over as quickly as it began and Draco was left leaning back against his chair, gasping for breath.

Kingsley's voice was calm when he repeated, "State your name for the court." At least he didn't seem to have enjoyed watching that, which was more than she could say about some of the other attendees, a few who were even applauding. Hermione's stomach turned sickly inside her.

Draco shook the pale lock of hair back from his face and situated himself until he was sitting indolently, leaning back against the chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his forearms resting on the arms of the chair, draping the chains across him and giving everyone a good view of them.

Kinglsey lifted his hand to motion for Thackery again when Draco spoke, dropping the vicious smirk only to speak in a voice as smooth as velvet, "Draco… fucking Malfoy."

Good Godric… What was he doing?!

Draco sucked his teeth dismissively.

Angry murmurs circled around the courtroom and Hermione grimaced. This was not starting out well at all.

Kingsley tapped his wand on the edge of his pedestal.

"Let us begin."

.

This trial, if it could even be called that, was utter bullshit. It was a waste of time and he wished they'd fucking get it over with already.

Humiliation wasn't one of his kinks.

Draco wasn't here to plead his case, not that he'd beg these fuckers, he was only here to be made an example of. They had to demonstrate their power and control since they had so easily lost it when the Dark Lord took power and the best way to get it back was to publicly humiliate someone who stood for everything that they had fought against, plus the added bonus that his legacy was one of the corruption that had led to the Ministry's weakness in the first place.

Draco was here because he was a Death Eater, yes, but he was also here because he was a Malfoy.

His father had done as much damage as he did, if not more, over the years and Draco had been groomed to take his place. It had only been the Dark Lord's rise to power, and his search for Granger, that had pulled him away from following in his father's footsteps. But as Draco looked around the filled courtroom, he had the sinking feeling that he would be following in them anyway.

All the way to Azkaban.

He couldn't help himself and glanced over at Granger who was sitting in the front row, back straight and brows pulled tight over her big doe eyes. His heart gave a painful beat when he saw her biting her lip. She immediately released it, trying to give him a reassuring smile that only succeeded in making him feel even more hopeless about his situation. Draco couldn't hold her gaze and dropped his eyes to her lap where her fingers were twisted together in knots.

She unwound them and there it was, his silver Malfoy ring. It was too big to fit on any of her fingers, but she was turning it over, the soft pads of her fingers running over the deep lines of the scripted M. He watched her trace it three times before she faintly raised her hand and touched her inner arm, making the same movements over the scar hidden underneath her collared shirt.

Draco cut his gaze away, throwing it back to the speck of dust at the bottom of Shaklebolt's podium that he had been staring at for the best part of the morning. They had paraded so called "witnesses" who all told sob stories about how Draco had taken their brother or daughter or grandfather in for questioning and the loved ones had never come back.

Draco rolled his eyes. If they really loved those people, they would have gone after them. They wouldn't have let anything stop them from getting back the one they loved. Instead, they had hid and cowered, and then fled at the first chance. Even if his chains fell away and the cage magically sprung open, Draco wouldn't run. Not unless he had Granger right there running with him.

And, that was why he was here, giving his last fuck about the world in an effort to exhaust every option he had to have a life with… Hermione.

He wished he had called her that more often. It was the least he could have done to show her… that he… that she was… But he hadn't. He had done all the things he was currently on trial for instead.

"Thank you, Mrs. Byson," Poncy Weaslebee said as a large woman with a larger handbag stepped down from the front of the courtroom.

Of fucking course it was a goddamn Weasley prosecuting him. They seemed to be everywhere, like some sort of freckled fungus or red, fuzzy mold.

Draco sighed and leaned back in the hardest chair in the world. His legs were cramping, being stuck in his cage for so long. Keeping him in this gibbet was nothing more than another way to torture him. Hell, even he had given Granger the whole bed to stretch out in.

No. He couldn't think about her in his bed. Not now. Not when… he might never have her in it again.

That was the real torture.

Bile churned sickly inside of him and Draco fell back into the dispassionate disposition he used to hide behind while sitting through classes when he was worrying about fixing the cabinet and how he was going to kill Dumbledore, all the while hoping that Granger didn't notice anything on his face that might stop her from fucking him again. He hoped he could keep the same composure now.

Then he saw who took the stand next.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Kenna.

She looked nervous, but healthier than the last time he saw her. Her cheeks had filled in again and she looked like she was showering regularly, which… was new for her. At least he didn't have to smell gross old dog while he was stuck here listening to her yap. Her eyes darted quickly around the room though and her movements were jerky and she seemed anxious to be sitting alone on the stand. She had never liked being on her own.

"Kenna McCleod is here to make her statements against Draco Lucius Malfoy—" Draco bristled at the use of his full name. "—in an effort to remind the court of her compliance and cooperation when her own hearing is held."

Kenna glanced at him for a moment then dropped her gaze. So much for fucking loyalty. He saved her from torture and death at the hands of the Dark Lord and this is how he was repaid?

Then fuck her.

Fuck them all.

"Gonna tell them how you tracked Mudbloods for me? Huh, Kenna?" Draco prompted, sneering as he did so. "How you got paid for it too? The ones you didn't eat, that is."

The courtroom exploded into gasps and sounds of disgust. Shaklebolt tapped his wand against his podium, sending red sparks out to quiet the room again.

"You will only speak when asked a direct question!" Weasley number… middle something snapped at Draco, his face reddening with anger.

"Ask your questions then," Draco sneered. "I've been sitting here for hours listening to people weep and moan. Could have left me down in the cell. At least there I can stand up straight." He kicked at the bars with one of his black boots and left a jolt of the blue energy run up his leg. It was worth it to hear the gasp of the people who had been whispering about him all morning.

"Draco…" Granger's voice was soft, but hearing it still hit Draco like he had been run over by the Hogwarts Express. When he looked over at her he sort of wished he had been. He might not be able to do much for himself, but he didn't have to make this harder on her than it already was.

He didn't want the last time he saw her to be with tears in her eyes.

He had enough memories of that already.

Draco's sneer dropped and he settled back, his chains pulling at his wrists when he tried to cross his arms.

"I can have you gagged if need be," Poncy hissed at him.

"Just get on with it," Draco mumbled and went back to glaring at the piece of dust, trying to avoid Granger's tawny eyes.

He sat there, counting his breaths over and over as Kenna, true to her goddamn werewolf nature, fucking betrayed him, to save her own hide. Spilling everything about their hunts and worse, what he had done when Fletcher was imprisoned at the Manor.

He had never told Granger what he did to Fletcher, because he didn't want her to know how he almost went mad without her, but now… now he wished he had told her every detail of every act he committed for her because then maybe she would have understood the fucking importance of getting the hell away from the fucking Order as soon as they had the chance! Instead, they were here and she was hearing it all anyway.

By the time Kenna was dismissed, Draco could feel the hatred blaring and blazing from dozens of eyes, all glaring down at him. But the only ones he cared about were the ones he couldn't bring himself to meet, no matter how hotly they felt on the side of his face.

He didn't want to see what lay in their cinnamon colored depths because he was scared. Because if it wasn't hated, then it would be heartbreak and he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold it together if he knew that he had hurt her again.

Draco stared at the piece of dust on the floor, refusing to even blink, not even when his eyes burned.

.

Hermione winced at the pain in her head as Dean Thomas shouted down accusations laced with insults at Draco.

"He fucking tortured us! For hours! Tried to get us to turn others in and kept asking about Harry and where he was. That was his plan all along," Dean said loudly and clearly, "Malfoy wanted to be the one to turn Harry over and he fucking admitted it! During the battle or do none of you remember that? Because I fucking do!"

A low rumble passed through the courtroom and Hermione bit her lip harder. Kingsley cleared his throat, but did nothing else.

"I don't know why we are even here," Dean went on. "We all know he's guilty! Just look at him, the fucking worm—he won't even look up! He knows it too! Forget Azkaban…" Dean looked up at the Minister. "Send him to hell, Kings. Do it for Harry."

A hushed silence fell over the room and Hermione's heart clenched in her chest. Dean had just been the most recent in a long line of witnesses against Draco. All of them were bad, but they seemed to be getting worse the longer it went on.

Hermione felt something wet slip down her chin and for a moment she thought it might be a tear; she had been trying so hard not to cry because Draco needed her to be strong for him right now and also if she started she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop. But when she reached up to wipe it away, Hermione saw a smudge of red on her fingers. She had bitten her lip so hard it was bleeding.

Hermione quickly sucked on it and swallowed down the metallic taste, pushing it past the lump that had been sitting in her throat all day.

"Is that all?" Draco's aristocratic drawl pulled every eye in the courtroom back to him. He was lounging back against the chair, making it look like the heavy chains didn't even bother him. He made them look… good. Like he owned the place, which, at one time, he practically did.

So many things had changed. Why couldn't anyone see that Draco had changed too?

Dean was glaring down at him so hard Hermione was worried he might have an explosive incident of accidental magic, yet Draco didn't seem to care at all.

"Yeah," Dean snarled down at Draco. "That's all." As he walked by Draco's cage to take his seat in the stands again, he leaned in and Hermione barely caught what whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Now we're even."

Draco, to his credit, merely sneered and shifted to lean on the other side of the chair. Hermione found herself unconsciously leaning forward, trying to close the distance he had added between them. He wouldn't even look at her while she was barely able to take her eyes off of him, scared that he would somehow disappear again if she even dared to blink.

Hermione didn't know why he was pretending she wasn't here and to be truthful, she didn't like it. She had spent years with Draco treating her as if she was something he had stepped in and only looking at her after he insulted her, but even then, there had been something mischievous in his silver eyes. Even when he had her locked away in his bedroom he at least looked at her, although his expression had always been blank. Unless he had been drunk and then he had stared at her like he was trying to see through the lace he dressed her in.

Hermione never thought she would have missed his… leering, but it turned out the only thing worse than having Draco's attention, was not having it at all.

Why wouldn't he acknowledge her now? She was the whole reason he was getting a hearing instead of being shipped off to Azkaban like anyone else who bore the mark. All she wanted was him to look over at her and give her one of those smirks she had come to love or even just a stoic nod. Something to let her know that they were going to make it through this.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, and to her surprise, he swiveled his head in her direction.

She was so stunned that she didn't even speak, just left her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Sweetheart," Draco turned to face her, his voice falling into velvet tones. "Your lip…"

He focused in on it, brows pulling over his eyes and casting them in shadow, turning them a storm cloud grey.

"It's okay," Hermione said hurriedly, wiping at her lip with the back of her hand. "It's… fine."

His lids fluttered a little, then a strange false smile slithered across his face. "Yeah, it is. Everything is going to be fine, pet. Don't you worry."

Draco must have noticed a change in her expression because he tried to give her that fake smile again and even threw her a wink as Percy announced the next witness being called.

"Will the Wizengamot please accept—" Hermione looked up to see who was coming next. "—Pansy Parkinson to speak on behalf of the Ministry versus Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Pansy? But… why? Why would she be willing to speak against…

Oh. Oh goodness gracious...

Pansy sat down at the front of the courtroom, holding a small baby wrapped in what looked like cashmere, but softer. The baby was fast asleep, but Hermione could see thick black hair on its head, curling in a strangely familiar way…

"Miss Parkinson, can you tell the assembly what charges you have evidence for?"

Pansy turned her nose up, addressing the group at large. "Murder."

Whispers filled the seats and Hermione's gaze shot to Draco, expecting to see him rolling his eyes, but instead he had gone white. And that was saying something for Draco. It was as if someone had leached the life out of him.

"Murder of whom?" Percy pressed.

Pansy pulled her baby closer to her chest. "Theodore Nott."

Oh… God. That's where Hermione knew those curls from, and of course, Hermione remembered Parkinson and Nott dating last year in school. Hermione hadn't even thought about Pansy after Draco came back and told her that he had killed Theo.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Had Draco known that Pansy had been pregnant? It wouldn't have made a difference if he did, Hermione knew, deep down, he would have killed Theo a thousand times over to keep her safe.

Hermioen looked back at the little squished face of the baby and felt a heavy sense of shame. She was the reason it was going to grow up without a father. She wanted… she wanted to say she was sorry, so sorry. That she never wanted things to be like this, that she hadn't wanted any of this to happen. Hermione felt cold dripping down inside her, making her insides churn and her head throb.

She looked at Draco who was staring at the baby and turning a light shade of green. Was this what he was feeling right now? Is this… how he felt as each person had taken the stand and testified against him? Godric, it had been hours since they started, how was he still holding himself together?

She thought the worst had come and gone. Hearing Kenna talk about the calculated and methodical way Draco had hunted down and captured Muggleborns had shocked Hermione. She knew, she had known all along, but… hearing it was different. And when Kenna said that he imperius'd her… Hermione had hated herself a little at the shot of jealousy that Draco had taken control of someone else's mind. Some other woman's mind…

She had to shake her head to rid that irking tingling at the top of her spine. It didn't mean anything and… she hadn't even liked it when Draco did it to her. Well, not at that moment at least. But her thoughts were interrupted as Kenna continued and told the Wizengamot that Draco had cut off Mundungus' finger and almost made her eat it.

How could Draco have been capable of that? Was that even the same Draco as the one who held her and kissed the top of her head and whispered comforting things in her ear when she needed him to? Or absolutely filthy things when she needed them?

Of course it was. She had spent so long thinking there were two Draco's. One Draco and one Malfoy, but she had found out too late they were one in the same. The man who pulled her onto his lap for no other reason than to shove his fingers in her curls and pull her lips onto his just to make her smile was the same man who had callously sold Muggleborns, people—humans—to the Ministry.

The same man who had murdered his friend in cold blood. And now she had to sit here and listen as Pansy Parkinson told the court about what he had done. Because Hermione had asked him to. Because she didn't want him to hurt her friend, so he had hurt his instead. Did that make it any better? Or worse?

Or did it make her just as guilty as Draco?

"Theo wasn't perfect," Pansy's voice trembled and Hermione realized she had missed most of Pansy's statement. "But he was forced to do things that… that he didn't want to." She held her baby a little closer to her. "And you all heard that he was killed for trying to help the Mud-Muggleborns that Draco was—"

"You lying bitch!" Draco pulled against his chains. Rumbles sounded around the room and Hermione glanced at the dark expressions as Draco leaned forward, sneering at Pansy. "He was a fucking Death Eater," Draco growled. "Just like me."

Percy cleared his throat and Hermione jumped. She had almost forgotten he was leading the case. "Theodore Nott is not on trial here."

"Yeah, because Draco murdered him!" Pansy stuck out an accusing finger and her baby started to cry. She quickly turned down to it, shushing and cooing at the small figure who stretched out its arms, shaking its pink fist in Draco's direction.

Draco sunk back in his chair, his expression cooling by the second back into the emotionless mask he had for most of the day. Hermione's heart clenched in her chest, there was so much she wanted to say and do, but most of all she just wanted to reach out and hold his hand, let him know that she was here with him, for him.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," Percy said stiffly and dismissed her. He turned to address the Wizengamot, pulling at his jacket to straighten it. "These testimonies have shown that Draco Malfoy not only committed the crimes he is accused of, but did them willingly and not under any enchantment or coercion to do so. However, we have to look at his history as a whole and not just particular events."

Hermione picked at her hands, anxiety building up inside her to the point of nausea.

"It is not just that Malfoy captured and sold Muggleborns, it is not just that Malfoy tortured people and creatures alike, it is not just that Malfoy planned and plotted the assassination of Albus Dumbledore at the age of sixteen, but that these acts were committed because of a lifelong adherence to the values of Pureblood supremacy that led him to ally himself with Lord…" Percy shook his head, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Hermione was surprised at Draco's composure. He looked perfectly calm, as if he was merely sitting through another lecture in Ancient Runes instead of having the fate of his future decided while he sat in chains.

"We have heard from his victims," Percy shuffled through a few papers, "all except a… Stephanie Towler, who has left Britain to stay with her cousin in… Vienna," Percy finished as he adjusted his glasses. "She refused to return, even to speak against Malfoy due to, what she called, 'Severe emotional trauma'."

Percy glared at Draco and Hermione heard the whispers and murmurings start again.

"What could he have done that she refused to come back?"

"Poor girl…"

"I would say let the dementors kiss him, but he probably doesn't even have a soul for them to take."

Hermione tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry from heaving in anxious breaths.

"What the Ministry has proven today," Percy went on, talking louder but not bothering to stop the whispers, "is that Draco Malfoy not only chose to join the Death Eaters—"

No. No. Hermione wasn't going to sit here and let them… judge Draco when they didn't know all the facts!

"He only joined to save his family!" Hermione shouted. The room fell into a hushed silence. Draco's head swung in her direction and she met his silver eyes for a moment before propelling herself to her feet. The sudden movement had her head hurt worse and she felt a little lightheaded, but Hermione wasn't going to let anyone stop her from saying her piece.

The weight of the Wizengamot and the audience's eyes were on her and Hermione summoned up her courage to push her to do what she needed to. Goodness, there were a lot of people in here. She saw their quizzical expressions and their questioning eyes. How had Draco stood this for hours and hours?

"Draco…" Hermione filled her chest. "He wanted to protect his family. He wanted to help his father who was dying in Azkaban." She shot a look at Kingsley. "But he never wanted to… do all those things. He didn't…" Hermione's hands were shaking and from nerves or anger, she wasn't sure.

And she wasn't sure if this would make a difference, based on looks she was receiving from the gathered people. They had all made up their minds about Draco already, they probably had before they even came in the courtroom this morning and almost a full day of hearing some of the worst things Draco had ever done had only solidified that position in their minds.

But Hermione knew he was different, knew he had changed. He had helped the Order, he had helped Harry! And he had… he had saved her. In more ways than one. Godric knew where she would be right now if it wasn't for him so she wasn't going to let him go anywhere she couldn't reach him. Where she couldn't be with him. Love him.

This wasn't over until she said it was. And neither was this trial.

"Who here can say they wouldn't do something unforgivable to save the ones they love?"

Hermione's gaze snagged on Ron who was sitting with hunched shoulders, his hands balled into fists at his sides. She tore her eyes from him, moving on to address the room as a whole.

"Plenty of you, I suppose," Hermione glared accusingly at the mass of people squeezed into the courtroom. "I see lots of faces I never saw fighting in the battle here today, yet you find it so easy to pass judgment on someone who did stand up against Lord Voldemort!"

"Miss Granger—" Kingsley's deep voice was calm as he said her name, but Hermione waved him off.

"He destroyed a horcrux. He freed Muggleborns from the Ministry. He fought against Voldemort, and… and," Hermione implored. "Draco changed—"

"And was that before or after he tried to kill me?"

Hermione's head shot in Ron's direction once more. His shoulders were still tense and a flush of red was creeping up his neck from under the collar of his Auror uniform. The courtroom was buzzing with voices, people moving and shifting in their seats to speak to one another and not even bothering to whisper anymore, but all Hermione could focus on were Ron's eyes burning into her like two blue flames.

"Or had you forgotten about that, Hermione?" Ron huffed. "He left me to die! He armed a Death Eater when I asked him to help me!" Hermione stood frozen to the spot, only her eyes moved, darting over to Draco who looked bored by the outburst, then back to Ron. Ron shook his head, coppery hair shining in the low light of the courtroom. "I was down there with him when the Muggleborns were set free and let me tell you, the only person Malfoy was trying to save was himself."

She hadn't wanted to argue with Ronald today, but right now she didn't have a choice.

"He saved me," Hermione said, her voice soft but dangerous. "Draco dueled against Bellatrix Lestrange when she attacked me," she said a little louder. "He didn't care that I was a Muggleborn—"

"Only because he couldn't prove you were one of them!" Ron slammed a weathered, leather bound volume on the banister in front of him. Hermione recognized it immediately; it was Draco's copy of The Sacred Twenty Eight. What… what was it doing here?

Ron flipped quickly to the back where pages on pages were filled with handwritten notes.

"Malfoy was trying to connect your family to one of theirs." He held the book up. "He wasn't trying to save a Muggleborn, he was trying to give you a place in his world, the one he and Voldemort were trying to make!"

The lion in Hermione's chest growled and roared, drowning out the murmuring and Kingsley's attempt to get the courtroom under control again. "Draco doesn't care about blood purity! He wanted to leave that world behind because he didn't believe in it anymore!"

"No?" Ron thumbed through the pages. "Malfoy wrote down all the fucked up shit his Death Eater friends did in here and do you know what he wrote by his name?"

Hermione's legs felt like they were turning to stone. No. No no no.

Ron turned the book around and there, in Draco's ornate script was a single word.

"Blood Traitor," Draco answered, venom soaking in those two words and the room fell into a hushed silence.

Ron glared hard at him. "Yeah. Blood Traitor. Now why would that be a crime worthy of listing in your little book? Oh that's right… because to you and your kind, there's nothing worse you can be."

Hermione felt like someone was squeezing her heart tighter and tighter until it felt like it was going to burst. Draco didn't say anything, he just hung his head, staring in the same direction he had done most of the day.

"Draco Malfoy never changed," Ron snapped the book shut. "And he never will. It's in his blood."

"ENOUGH!" Kingsley bellowed. "Anyone speaking out of turn will be removed from the courtroom and held until their own hearing where they will be charged with contempt of court!"

Hermione sat down, her head spinning and it was then that she noticed she wasn't breathing. Sucking in a few lungfuls of air, she felt her chest filling with a thousand different emotions, none of them staying long enough for her to process what they really were. And honestly, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

She watched as the Wizangamot spoke quietly amongst themselves. Several of them were nodding their heads or murmuring things like, "Whole family is full of Death Eaters," and "Abraxas was one of the Dark Lord's first followers," then finally, "He is Lucius' son."

"I'm no one's fucking son," Draco glowered up at his judges, addressing them for the first time since disrespectfully stating his name at the start of the hearing.

Kingsley tapped his wand on his podium, commanding the room back into order. "Draco Malfoy, you do have the right to address the Wizengamot if you so choose. If you elect to do this, you will do it with the propriety and candor in which their positions demand."

Draco's lips twisted into something that was not quite a smirk and not quite a sneer. Hermione felt something fall deep inside her as Draco began to rise. His chains clattered against each other and he stood a little stooped over, the cage he was already locked in not quite tall enough for him to stand completely. Even so, he looked every bit the Malfoy heir he had been raised to be.

Hermione had no idea if that was a good or a bad thing, at least, until Draco opened his mouth.

"This cage is a bit… small for me and I'd like to stand for this." Draco addressed Kinglsey directly. "After all, this… esteemed court demands my respect, does it not?"

Hermione felt bubbles rise up in her at the sound of Draco's smooth, deep tone. She wasn't sure if she was just nervous or… something else that was completely inappropriate to feel in the middle of a courtroom, but seeing Draco so calm and collected in the face of adversity was… Goodness. She needed to get a hold of herself.

Hermione crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, pressing them down. Hard.

Draco lifted his hands palms up, displaying the chains hanging down from his wrists. "You've won the war. What are you afraid of, Shaklebolt?"

Hermione twisted the Malfoy ring in her fingers, trying to expel a little bit of the anxious energy building up in her. Kingsley pursed his lips for a few tense moments then nodded to two guards who approached the cage cautiously.

Draco cracked his neck as they began to charm the locks to open. He stretched out a leg, sliding his heavy combat boot close to one of the guards who promptly fumbled and dropped his wand.

"Don't worry," Draco drawled. "I don't bite. At least not the likes of you." His eyes flicked to Hermione's and she was hit with the full weight of his gaze. A smirk slipped onto his face. "Isn't that right, kitten?"

Oh, good Godric! Hermione's eyes went wide and Draco's smirk split wider, showing off a flash of his white teeth. The bubbles inside her inflated and rose, making her almost lightheaded. This… this was wrong, but… at least he wasn't avoiding her.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Kingsley said sharply as the chains dropped from Draco's wrists and ankles. Draco let out a deep sigh and rubbed the burn scars on his left wrist. Hermione felt a few of the bubbles burst with sick pops of guilt. "Those were removed for you to show the proper respect and if you fail—"

"Yes, I know. Straight to jail," Draco said drolly. He groaned as he stretched and stood up.

Wow. Had… had he always been that tall? Hermione felt her face heat as Draco dipped his head to keep it from hitting the top of the cage as he stepped out. He was… yeah… very tall. Even now, dirty and disheveled, his presence commanded the room and Hermione wondered if Kinglsey had made a mistake letting him out of the cage. There was just something about him… and it was a second too late that Hermione realized he was holding himself the way he normally did when she was on her knees for him.

Her eyes went wide and she gripped the ring in her hand a little harder, until it hurt.

Draco looked at her for a moment, the corners of lips twitching upward, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking just by the way she was biting her lip and… maybe he did.

His eyes softened on hers and Hermione couldn't help but breathe out and sink down a little in her seat as if her insides were melting. His expression slightly tightened into something Hermione could only think was… remorse. Real and true. It was something she had only seen a few times and never in front of others.

Hermione leaned forward again. Something was wrong.

Then as suddenly as it appeared on Draco's face, it was gone and back to its bored, aristocratic expression as he addressed Kingsley and the Wizengamot.

"I wanted to say," he took a deep breath, "that I am sorry."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Oh my.

"I'm sorry that I didn't do more. I'm sorry that I… chose the wrong side." He gave a one shouldered shrug.

She couldn't believe it. If she wasn't watching him with rapt attention right now, Hermione would have sworn it was some sort of enchantment and not Draco saying these words.

"I'm sorry that Potter died." Draco dropped his eyes for a moment, but then he lifted them heavily back up and they were as hard as granite and as sharp as steel. Oh no. "He sacrificed himself to give everyone here a chance to build a better world and… everyone here just shat all over that."

Oh.

Oh… God…

Draco took a heavy step forward towards the Wizangamot who, even on their raised dais, pulled back as Draco's boots thudded in the silent room.

"If I could go back, I'd tell Potter to fuck off and leave you all to the Dark Lord," he snarled and gasp and shouts of outrage broke out. "You deserve it! I wish he'd come back again and finish what he fucking started!"

Hermione's hand shot up to cover her mouth, but what she really wanted was to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear this. She knew Draco didn't mean it, that he was just… angry and upset, but… God, how could he say those things?!

Draco's lip curled back, baring his teeth dangerously. "I'd hunt each of you down for him, and this time, I'd do it for fun."

The crowd were on their feet and shouting down at him while Draco just sneered back at his victims and their families. Someone threw a shoe down at him. It slid to a stop in front of him and Draco spat on it, causing fresh outrage to break out.

Kingsley was commanding the guards, ordering them to create a protective barrier around Draco as several people surged forward. Hermione looked around at the angry faces and shaking fists. Her breath hitched in her chest as one of the guards pushed Dean Thomas back roughly.

Hermione had never been happier that they had not allowed wands in the courtroom. It had been for 'security reasons' and she had thought them overly cautious, but seeing Draco's reaction… They might have been right.

Hermione sat stunned. Why… How could he say that? Everything they had done, everything they had fought for… he would… give it up…? No… Not… not her Draco. But… it was.

He was glaring up at his judges, eyes shining like sharpened silver, just like they had in her dreams where he had been her Death Eater. She had taken his mark off, but… he was still the same man he had always been. She knew Draco hadn't believed the Order could win at first, but she thought that had changed. She thought he had changed…

She had forgiven him so many times and was willing to do it again; for taking Harry into the forest, for whatever had happened between him and Ron, for telling Voldemort whatever he had to try and save her, but… did he really mean it? That he had chosen the wrong side? That Harry had… died for nothing?

Her wounds were still fresh so when they ripped back open, they hurt even more. Because this time, it was Draco who had done it. Made her hurt. Again. Hermione's heart stuttered and stopped in her chest, the pressure building making it crack.

"Draco…" she said softly, but he couldn't hear it over the commotion around them.

Draco's lip curled back, baring his teeth dangerously. He reached down and ripped the gauze from his arm and lifted it up to show the burned and scarred flesh where his mark used to be. "I'd pledge my loyalty to The Dark Lord all over again," his voice was low and cold in a sickeningly familiar way, "just to watch him destroy you—one at a fucking time."

"Draco!" Hermione cried out and he turned sharply towards her. How dare he say that? After she had chosen to remove his mark, to save him, instead of… instead of Harry. She could have helped him, dueled Voldemort, done… something. But instead she had stayed with Draco. Hermione had chosen him.

She had to live with that decision, and she could, as long as it meant that… she got to keep him, her Draco. But hearing him say he would do it all again, after all she had given up, after all she had lost…

Hermione felt her heart breaking up inside her. "Please, Don't… do this."

The hardness leached from his face and his eyes turned a misty, rain grey. She watched his chest rise and fall heavily. "I already have."

"Guards! Secure him!" Kingley shouted and they ran forward.

Hermione screamed as Draco dodged one spell only to have the other hit him on his wounded shoulder, slamming him face first into the bars of the cage, causing them to spark at the interaction. He snarled as he turned back around, blood running down his face and dripping onto his chest.

Hermione was on her feet. She didn't know how or when, but all she knew was that she had to do something. She couldn't just sit there and let this happen, but… like Draco had said, it already had. The heaviness in her chest kept her stuck in place.

Draco rounded on the guards, flinging the cage open and trapping one behind the door against the bars. They lit up in bright, blue curls of magic, making the guard's body seize and shake. The second guard held out his wand and Draco grabbed his wrist, twisting it and causing the spell to fire into the crowd. People screamed and ran out of the way, but a few were hit and collapsed in their seats.

"Hermione," Draco said her name like a prayer and she felt a sharp piece of her heart twist and dig inside her. In one long stride he was in front of her, his hands grabbing her face, and his mouth crashing into hers, kissing her roughly. She could taste the sharp tang of his blood in her mouth and before she knew what was happening, she was already kissing him back. He pulled back from her, breathing heavily as he said, "You know I didn't mean it."

Hermione tried to shake her head, tried to pull away from him, but Draco held on, not letting her go. "Draco…" She reached up to pull his hands from her face, but Draco just took the opportunity to take both her hands in his, holding tight.

"No, no," he repeated, taking a second to glance over his shoulder as more guards moved in closer. When he turned back around, he lifted her hands up and kissed them, blood flowing freely over her fingers. "I love you. You know that. I love you. But this… this was useless. They were never going to let me go."

So he made it worse?! What sort of Pureblood logic was that?

"Draco!" Hermione cried out as she saw the head guard, Thackery, was heading for him again. Draco threw an elbow back, catching him in the throat and Thackery dropped his wand, stumbling backwards as he wheezed.

Draco's hand was back around hers, pulling them up to his face again. Hermione watched aghast as blood dripped off of his chin and onto their clasped hands.

"They can't keep me from you. Nothing will." Draco dipped his head to look into her eyes, a lock of silver blond hair falling in between his eyes. "We're going to be together. Just… Wait for me. Don't run this time. Please, Sweetheart…" More guards were closing in and Hermione's heart was racing, breaking more with each beat. "Wait for me. I'll come back for you. I promise."

She wanted to answer him, tell him… but she didn't know what to say. She didn't… She didn't… Her throat closed up, too thick to let anything pass through so all Hermione had for Draco were the silent tears running down her cheeks, mixing with his blood and pooling in her palms.

"Promise me." His voice was that deep commanding one and she felt her mouth open, but no words came out. "Hermione?" Guards grabbed onto his arms and Draco hissed as they touched the burned one. Hermione stared up at Draco, thoughts rushing through her head too quickly for her to grab one and voice it. They were pulling him back, but he was still holding onto her.

"Hermione?" he asked again as they pulled him back. Now Draco's voice was taunt, strained. Hermione looked up at him with too much she wanted to say and not enough time to do it. He was already moving backwards, leaving her. Again.

The blood and tears made their hands slip apart, but Draco was still grasping for her as they locked the chains around his wrists again.

It wasn't until Hermione saw them push Draco back into the cage that she was able to narrow in on one single thought which was, "NO!"

Draco stilled so quickly it was as if he had been turned to stone. He just looked at her, not even breathing, as lightning struck in his eyes. Then was cursing, grabbing onto the bars and shaking them despite the fact that angry white hot sparks shot out around his hand.

"HERMIONE!" Draco shouted her name, the pain evident in his voice.

Hermione watched in horror as the cage began to sink back down through the floor. "NO!" She pushed past a few people, trying to make it out of the stands and… and she didn't know. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Draco.

"Please!" he called up at her when all that was visible was the white blond hair on top of his head. "Wait for me! I'll come this time, I swear! I swear it, Hermione!"

Hermione felt like it was thundering in her head, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. Any moment she would wake up and find this was all one of her terrible nightmares and turn over and Draco would be right there and holding her and…

Gears cranked loudly as the cage began to lower down into the floor. "PROMISE ME!" Draco shouted, blood flying from his lips. "HERMIONE!"

The cage disappeared and the floor closed over the opening, but Draco's voice could still be heard as he descended lower. It echoed around them as Kingsley passed down the final verdict of the Wizengamont. They didn't even deliberate. They didn't have to. Everyone had known how this would end, everyone but her and her foolish, hopeful heart.

"For his crimes, Draco Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced," Kinglsey said in his deep voice and Hermione felt her legs begin to shake, "to Azkaban Prison—"

"No!" Hermione cried out, knowing it was useless, but unable to stop herself.

"Where he will remain," Kingsley went on and Hermione held her breath as she waited to hear just how long she would have to be separated from Draco. "For the remainder of his days," Kingsley finished.

Everything around her was chaos, utter pandemonium. Some people were cheering, others were shouting obscenities. Hermione stood there, not willing to accept what had just happened, hands red in the middle of a courtroom that had sentenced a man who didn't deserve it to a life in prison. Her hands were still clasped tight and felt something digging into the burn mark on her palm.

She opened up her hand to see Draco's Malfoy ring sitting there, covered in his blood. Hermione looked around at Wizengamot who had made up their minds before they even walked in this morning, and closed her hand and her eyes as she swallowed down her tears. She was so… so angry. At the judges, at the people in the courtroom. At Draco and… most of all at herself. For thinking… for trusting that… that things would be different this time.

When she opened her eyes back up, she wasn't crying anymore, but her hand stayed balled in a fist.

.

There was a window.

He would have been surprised about this fact if he could really feel anything but It was as if he had gone numb, inside and out and Draco just stood there, the icy wind biting at the exposed skin on his face. The door creaked then slammed shut behind him and Draco's lungs stopped working. He had the thought to breathe, to inhale, but the muscles in his chest didn't respond.

He wondered if this is what a dead body felt like.

Draco looked at the window. At the rusted bars, crusted with frost and salt. This whole place was like that. They had marched him through the prison gate and bolted it behind him as soon as he was through. He was shackled at his ankles and wrists and guarded by Aurors on either side of him. Even if he could somehow get away from them and out of the chains, there was nowhere else for him to go. He was on an island and the boat they had taken here was guided by magic.

And Draco couldn't do magic anymore.

He couldn't do anything, but sit there and grit his teeth until he thought he was about to crack a tooth while they tried to brand him with runes, marking him as a prisoner and an outcast.

At least the dark mark had meant he belonged to something, these meant that he would never be able to go back.

The only small consolation he had while they tore into his skin to imprint him with ink was that the scars Potter had given him got in the way. No matter how hard they tried, and hell—they tried, but the prison runes would only blur and bleed into the dented tissue on his chest. They couldn't undo what had already been done. Draco had sneered triumphantly at them, that was, until the prison guard closed up the bottle of ink.

"Don't matter. 'E's never gettin' outta here. Just throw 'im in the old Malfoy's cell and be done wit it."

His father's cell. Well, at least he was keeping with tradition. Maybe he'd go crazy within a year, just like his dear old dad had. He would have laughed at the cruel irony if he had been able to summon it.

Draco had felt the warmth leaching out of him ever since they arrived on this rock and although he hadn't seen one yet, but Draco could feel the dementor's presence, closing in on him and seeping below his skin, trying to find the sliver of soul he had left in him.

Good fucking luck.

They brought him to the cell and pushed him inside. Draco stared around at the walls, the same pale grey shade of his father's eyes. He remembered them wide and wild, staring up at things that weren't there while he was laid up in the villa while Draco tried to fill his broken heart with wine on the beach.

But there was no sun to burn him here, only frozen wind, salt, and stone. Draco felt another rush of it blow in through the barred window. This was the place where his father's mind had… cracked. Where he had stopped being Lucius Malfoy and was just the broken, ruined mess Draco had traded his future for.

He'd damn near lost Granger for that and then swore to do anything, everything to get her back and in a sick sense of cosmic irony, it's what landed him in the one place where he was farther from her than ever. He had begged her to promise him when he knew his own was just a lie.

Draco's head throbbed with a heavy pulse of blood as the door to his cell locked and sealed behind him, solid and stone.

He'd never leave this cell.

He'd never get out.

He'd never…

The wind blew harshly through the window and suddenly filled Draco's lungs with frigid air.

As much as he needed it, Draco forced it out of him as fast as he could, letting the muscles seize to the point where it felt like shards of ice stabbing through his chest. He might as well get used to the feeling. He was going to be cold for the rest of his life. He'd never feel warm again. How could he when Granger was hundreds of miles away?

It wasn't just the distance separating them, or the bars or the walls or the ocean or the fucking dementors.

It was everything he had done. Everything he was.

It was all his fault and he could still see her big doe eyes filling with tears as they tore him away from her.

His girl. His fault.

He was going to die in here.

In this fucking cell.

Alone.

No. No no no. He hadn't damned himself to end up locked up alone in this cell. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, retreating to the ruins of the marble walls in his mind. He flipped over broken pieces, digging down until his hands bled, until he reached…

Draco lifted the small trap door he'd kept under the heel of his boot and from below came a mess of curly hair. It was her. Or… as much of her as he had left.

Draco exhaled, but as she climbed out into view, his face fell. This wasn't his girl. This wasn't his Hermione.

She… It—was wrong.

She lifted her face to look at him. It wasn't with warm brown eyes that looked like burnt cinnamon, but flat, colorless ones that strangely reminded him of the blanched sky outside.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You deserve to be in here, but why'd you drag me up into this…" She looked around at the broken marble. "God, this place is fucked up."

Draco paused for a moment, half in shock that she had said those words and half in shock that she was actually here. Even if here was still inside his head. Finally he said, "I thought you wanted to be with me."

This Fake Granger laughed. "Be with you?" She wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"Because you love me and I…" He took a breath of icy air. "I love you."

She came to stand right in front of him and tilted her head back to look up at him. Draco could almost imagine the slight flush to her cheeks she'd have, but when he looked at her, there was no color.

But her voice sounded just like it had when she echoed back to him, "I don't want someone like you to love me."

Draco felt like he had been slapped. His hands clenched into fists and the new, tight skin on his left arm pulled uncomfortably. He didn't want to feel that, what she had done to him. Draco opened his eyes, trying to run from her and the memory of when she had spoken those words to him, but when his lids flew open, she was still standing there.

In his cell.

In front of the window.

With him.

The little bit of light coming through filtered around her and Draco could see her clearly for the first time. All the color had been leached from her. She was as pale as a ghost. Draco looked her over, trying to conjure the exact color of toffee brown her hair normally was, but no matter how hard he tried, it stayed a dispassionate ash grey.

No. No. No. He couldn't do this. Couldn't see her this way. Couldn't stand it, not for one more fucking minute. He thought being away from her would be the worst they could put him through, but being with… this corrupted, distorted version of the woman he loved… Draco had never known true hell until this moment.

He turned and tried to bang on the door. Tell them that there was someone in here with him. That they needed to come back and… and…

He could hear half a dozen other prisoners shouting as well, some merely screaming, not even trying to form words anymore. Draco backed up from the door until his shoulders hit the bars of the window.

"It's just you and me," Fake Granger said in a saccharine tone. "No one else. Just like you always wanted." She smiled, but there was no warmth in it and Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a cold wind blew by. "You finally got what you deserve, Malfoy." Draco stiffened, pressing harder into the iron bars. She followed him step for step until she was right in front of him, head tilted back and looking up at him with her big eyes. "Me."

This wasn't Hermione. This was some fucking figment he had conjured up, but… she was right, just like she fucking always was. Draco deserved to be punished. He had hardened his heart to the rest of the world in order to keep Granger safe inside it so who else could torture him than the only person who could rip it out from within?

She could cut it out from his chest every day and he would just have to sit here and keep on loving her until he died.

Probably after that too.

Because even when he was dead, he'd still be in here, in hell… with and without her.

.

A/N: I know, I know… one thousand years dungeon for me. Sigh.