Empty Spaces

Chapter 40

"Perhaps a more serious legal practitioner," Yamamoto shot back scathingly, "One who is able to keep up with the information provided. Andor Markos died of natural causes and there is no evidence to support anything otherwise."

"Nobody dies of 'natural causes' before the age of thirty!"

"You, sir, seem to have tragically limited medical knowledge," Yamamoto replied venomously, "Not to mention a severe lack of respect for life in general..."

Watching her, Draco was struck with a strange feeling: While he would never take Harry's defense for granted, it was at least arguably understandable that Harry would stand up for his lover... And then Aberforth's unwavering support through all of this had been an unexpected surprise to be sure, but with Draco now able to run just about every aspect of the inn, he supposed it was understandable as they now had some history together. But Yamamoto was someone Draco had only met once; their paths had crossed briefly and then they went their separate ways. What could she possibly stand to gain from all this, why go out of her way to ensure that Draco walk out of that courtroom a free man? Because that's precisely what she did.

Still feeling somewhat removed from space and time, Draco was handed back his wand and told he could go on his way as if he'd just been through a minor inconvenience rather than being forced to listen to what seemed like half the Ministry insisting he was evil. "Just like his father," they said, "Like father like son," and "The apple clearly hasn't fallen very far from the tree." Even after acknowledging Draco's innocence, it was clear that many of them believed this just made Draco all the more guilty for somehow managing to wipe away all evidence of foul play.

Well. At least they were right about that. Only they had the wrong Malfoy.

Draco left the courtrooms in a haze, wondering what one did in this sort of situation. Just go home? It seemed so strange to return to school– what day was it even? – after all of this. It was as if he was trapped in a nightmare again, living life as an outsider looking in on someone else's misery...

Someone was shouting, but it sounded like cries of relief rather than anger, and then suddenly Draco found himself in Harry's arms; Harry was holding him and kissing him and crying and smiling all at once, not caring that they were within full view of the entire Wizengamot as everyone began filing out of the courtroom.

"I still can't believe they took you in like that," Granger fretted from behind Harry's shoulder. "How have you been holding up, how are you feeling?"

They were genuine questions, ones Draco didn't have any good answers for. Nobody ever asked those things. It was strange. And what the hell was everyone doing here in the first place... Yamamoto was on Harry's other side while Aberforth loomed over everybody.

"You... you haven't all just been sitting out here waiting, have you...?" Draco asked skeptically, looking around at the most unlikely collection of people ever to be grouped together: his boyfriend, his boyfriend's roommate, his landlord, and the healer who treated him once... Why...?

"Why wouldn't we?" Harry replied, "There's no way you're walking away from all this alone."

"Can we continue this conversation somewhere less depressing?" Yamamoto piped up, "Like, literally anywhere but here...?"

Draco silently agreed. He never wanted to look at that gray stone again, just like he never wanted to see gleaming black marble again either... The courtrooms were just an extension of the Manor...

They ended up in a bustling cafe at Yamamoto's request; at first, Draco bristled at the thought of being around so many people, but he soon realized that the general busyness of the place meant that even their rather unusual party just blended in with the rest of the crowd. Harry couldn't seem to get enough of him, sitting as close as he could to Draco's side and then making sure they were either holding hands or otherwise maintaining contact in some way or another– Draco found it all endearing rather than annoying, although he could still hear echos of his father's voice scoffing at this sort of petty behavior.