Empty Spaces

Chapter 41

"Harry... why... what the fuck is this and why is it something that you own...?" Draco asked, peering over his lover's shoulder at the ancient-looking folds of parchment.

"Long story, but I promise I will tell you later," Harry dismissed, "Come on, down this way and we'll run into her at the end– Mischief managed," he tapped the parchment with his wand and tucked it back into his schoolbag, "Professor? Professor McGonagall!"

"Potter? Is everything alright? Ah, Mr. Malfoy... I'm afraid I must speak with you this morning, but first, Potter, what is it that you and Miss Granger need?"

"What? Nothing, we're here with Draco–"

"Are you sure? Well, if there isn't anything you need from me, I do have to speak with Mr. Malfoy, and I think it's a discussion best had someplace quiet, like my office... Now, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I'll see you both in Transfiguration later today."

Dreading whatever McGonagall had to say, Draco followed her up to the Headmaster's Study, leaving behind a rather distraught-looking Harry and Granger.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid I have some bad news," McGonagall began.

"I already know," Draco said, handing over his letter. "It arrived this morning..."

McGonagall took the parchment and looked it over.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking genuinely apologetic, "I submitted an appeal, but it was already rejected by the school board, claiming that the court order must be upheld. I've written again, and will continue to speak out on your behalf, but I'm afraid my influence can only go so far."

Draco felt his face fall and immediately cursed himself for letting his vulnerability show.

"If I may," McGonagall offered, "The examinations are proctored by an outside entity, and there is no verbiage anywhere in either the court documents or the school policies that would prevent you from taking them. In short, one does not have to be a Hogwarts student in order to sit their NEWTs."

It wasn't much and it was by all accounts an absolutely terrible idea– attempting to take a full load of NEWTS with just over half a year of schooling. But it was better than nothing.

"The official record may state your expulsion," McGonagall said gently, "But help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who need it. I know that, for myself, I am happy to meet with you outside of school hours to prepare you for the exams, and while I do not wish to speak for my fellow colleagues, I suspect that I am not alone in feeling this way."

Draco nodded, processing. You've come this far. You've survived Lucius, you've survived the war, you're surviving on your own, and dammit you'll survive this too... Right?

He headed down to the village alone, not really sure what to do next. Picking up extra hours at work was probably a good idea, and he would have to start dedicating a good amount of time each day to studying, but neither of those options was particularly appealing right now... It seemed embarrassingly childish, but what he really wanted right now was to be sitting in Potions class next to Harry, where things made sense with their easy solutions– no pain, no guilt, just answers that were clearly either right or wrong...

Instead, Draco pushed open the door to his flat and found another Ministry owl waiting impatiently at the window. With a groan and a sinking feeling, Draco flicked his wand at the window, sending both owl and cold air swirling into the painfully empty room.

8th February

Dear Mister Malfoy,

Due to the recent violation of your probationary terms, and as a convicted criminal, Ministry Law Enforcement has determined that you are hereby required to resume filing daily reports with the Ministry of Magic for the next ninety days.

Yours,

Blair Ironbark, Department of Magical Law

Draco turned the piece of parchment over in his hand. Making a daily trip to the Ministry office would be annoying, sure, but he would walk down to that goddamn office ten times a day if it meant staying away from the Manor. Maybe things weren't so bad after all...

Of course they were– a man was dead because of him, albeit indirectly, but death is death. He'd been forced to endure endless days of trials, listening to every awful thing he had and hadn't done, attacked from every angle. He'd been expelled from school, the one place where he could escape from being a Malfoy: The potion doesn't care about your surname any more than the calculation gives a shit what your family history is...

But he could stay in Hogsmeade.

Draco decided to have his inevitable talk with Aberforth next, not just because the old man was his employer, but because Aberforth was... well, whatever Aberforth was, the result was that Draco realized he didn't owe him an explanation of what happened– he wanted to give one. It was a strange distinction, but it somehow had Draco opening up in a way he never did and he found himself buried in the old man's vast embrace, taking in the familiar smell of smoke and firewhiskey, safety and security... Not wanting to be alone, Draco insisted on working the rest of the day, and it was here that Harry and Granger found him in the afternoon.

"You didn't come back for classes– what happened? What did McGonagall say? There's nothing she can do?" Granger rushed over to the desk, Harry at her side.

"I'm officially expelled," Draco said quietly, as if the words themselves were poisonous. "She's writing another appeal, but there's only so much she can do... She may be the headmistress, but she can't overrule the governors, or the Ministry..."

"There must be something we can do!" Granger fretted.

"I can still take the exams," Draco said, looking up. "I don't have to be a Hogwarts student for that..."

"That's going to be so incredibly difficult, Draco, taking on your NEWTs with only half a term of schooling..."

"Way to be encouraging, Hermione," Harry spoke up, "Draco, maybe I could–"

"No– Harry, Hermione's right," Draco interrupted, "I can't have you stepping in all the time, dropping your name around to get me what I want. That's no different than using my own. But if Lucius thinks he can bring his heir back under his control, he's sadly mistaken–"

"What makes you think it was Lucius?"

"Every move on the chessboard has been to drive his opponent into a corner," Draco explained, "But too bad for him. I'm not playing this game anymore. I have my own home, my own job, my own life. I'm staying here, and I'm passing those goddamn NEWTs."

Harry was making a face that Draco couldn't interpret. It almost looked like he was torn between speaking up and holding something back, which struck Draco as unusual– Harry usually spoke first and thought later.

No more secrets, remember? So... what is it that you're keeping from me...?