At about the time that Harry and Minerva were finishing renovating Grimmauld Place, the Malfoys were all arrested, all three taken to Azkaban without a trial. Harry was furious, arguing time and time again with Kingsley about Draco's and Narcissa's help. Kingsley knew all this, Gawain knew all this, they'd been over it countless times. It was a political move, Harry knew that too; the Ministry had to be seen as doing something productive. Too many Death-Eaters had escaped. The hunt for Avery, the Carrows, Dolohov, Macnair, Mulciber, Rookwood, Rowle, and Yaxley was proving futile; all were known to be from the inner circle and had fled after the final battle. All were yet to be rounded up. It was clear the Ministry was up to its old tricks of making an easy example out of the Malfoys. Eventually, Harry threatened to go to the press and tell them. Kingsley managed to bring their trial forward but it still meant they were trapped in Azkaban for three weeks.
Harry showed Minnie his memory of the Room of Requirement, just for confirmation that he was right that Draco had been trying to help. Minerva agreed that Draco certainly provided Harry with a warning as Crabbe and Goyle approached him, and he definitely was trying to stall for time. He showed her his memories of Draco's help at the Manor too and Minerva went over the details of what she remembered about Draco's behaviour over the year and her suspicions about the fake hex. Harry called on Neville and Hagrid too for help.
When Draco emerged from Azkaban before the trial, he'd lost weight, his pale face was hollowed, and his hair curled slightly at his collar.
Draco winced, feeling overwhelmed by the sensory overload of everything around him after three weeks in a dank, empty cell and nothing but the crash of waves and darkness for company. He felt lost and disorientated as he and his parents were guided along a corridor in the depths of Ministry that lead to the Wizengamot chamber.
He watched Potter stride towards him with a welcoming smile on his face. He wore a well-cut, and very muggle, navy suit that made him stand out from those around him. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt had been left undone and somehow the casualness exuded a powerful confidence that suited Potter. He'd had his haircut and it was pushed back, showing his scar. He smelt enviously clean, of fresh woodland showergel and citrus shampoo, of spiced sandalwood aftershave. Draco felt a little jealous, particularly because of the state he was in after Azkaban. Close to, Potter's green eyes, always so expressive, showed pity but also fiery anger. There was something else too, he thought that perhaps Potter was haunted by the ghosts of the past.
His mother watched Potter warily but he greeted her with a slight bow and a firm handshake. In comparison, Lucius completely ignored his presence, it was one step too much for the pride of the man to take.
He watched Potter run a hand through his hair, messing it up, before he pushed his glasses up his nose with his index finger. It made Draco quirk a faint smile to see such a familiar sight.
Harry was surprised by his nervousness at facing the Malfoys again, so close to and under such personal circumstances. He studied Draco intently, feeling inherent protectiveness towards him and what he was facing. He thought it was unfair, he thought the Malfoys had been mistreated. Not that he was so moved by Lucius's plight, but some officious Ministry being had moved against Kingsley's and Harry's wishes for the sake of seeming to progress.
Harry couldn't fail to notice that Draco was too pasty. Too thin. His clothes hung loosely off the taller man's already narrow frame and swamped him. Harry couldn't help but slowly study the slim wrists that he could easily encircle within his index finger and thumb. He noticed the V of naked pale flesh that showed a prominent Adams-apple and the hollow scoop between his clavicles at his open shirt neck where the top button was undone. He took in Draco's thin neck with its threadlike tendons scooping towards his shoulders and the angles on his face that Harry had never noticed at school: the pointed chin; the sharp jawline; the high cheekbones. His dry lips. The grey haunted eyes with black circles heavy beneath them. His white-blond hair was slightly tousled with a wave inherited from Narcissa. He was shivering.
Feeling under scrutiny, Draco stared back, momentarily defiant, until the fight left him, almost immediately. He no longer had the strength or the motivation to fight with Potter but he supposed that had passed long ago. Especially when he realised Potter was holding out an unused stick of lip salve for him. He wanted to sneer but took it anyway, applying it greedily before passing it to his mother. He had the feeling of wanting to fall against his old school nemesis, like he wanted to be wrapped in his strength and have Potter hold him upright for just a moment until the feeling came back to his shaky legs.
He gratefully nodded at the feel of Potter casting a surprising wandless warming charm over him. Finally feeling the cold of the last few weeks subside. The cold and damp had permeated into his very soul and, for a while, he thought he would never get warm again. Sometimes, in the cold dead night, he would think of Potter holding his hand in the hospital wing, he would think of the warmth and that would get him through yet another sleepless night.
Potter picked up three bottles of water from a chair behind him and offered them to Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius. Lucius looked at the proffered bottle and turned away, unaccepting of any act of kindness Potter gave. But Draco and Narcissa accepted the water gratefully and Draco found he was holding onto the bottle like it was a security blanket. He'd never been so refreshed by cool, clean water before. And despite the uncouthness of drinking straight from the bottle, his mother clearly felt the same. It was eye opening that something as commonplace for Draco as clean water could mean so much. That hurt, perhaps more than the other realisations of how privileged his life had been and he bowed his head to hide his tears.
'Can I?' Potter said, causing Draco to look up again. Potter indicated to his wand. He cautiously drew his wand and cast a Scourify for Draco. 'I know it's not ideal but it's better than nothing.' He spoke softly and Draco appreciated his thoughtfulness in all that he was doing for them.
'Thank you,' his voice was hoarse from lack of use.
'Lucius?'
With a familiar sneer, the man turned his back on Potter. Narcissa rolled her eyes, indicating to ignore him.
'I'm going to get you out of this,' he offered Narcissa a comb as he Scourified her clothes too.
Draco noticed Potter only spoke to him and his mother but he supposed there was very little that could be done for his father. His father had dug his own grave and Draco found he cared very little for the man. His current behaviour towards Potter only seemed to further highlight his arrogance and narrow-mindedness.
'They went too far, to take you there without a trial. I'm sorry it took so long to get the trial brought forward. Trying to move the bloody Wizengamot is like a Bowtruckle trying to push a stubborn Erumpent uphill.'
Lucius snorted derisively. Draco and his mother looked at Potter in surprise. They knew nothing of this.
Potter leant close to Draco, overwhelming him with his clean, fresh aura. He asked quietly, 'are you alright if I tell the court about when I found you in the boys' bathroom in the sixth year, the moment just before our fight and how I perceived the situation to be?'
Draco nodded; surprised Potter had even asked his permission.
It was hard for the Wizengamot to argue against the Saviour of the Wizarding World but Draco was taken aback by Potter's eloquence and passion as he spoke before those who would so easily condemn the whole family. Indeed, he'd always been led to believe by his father that the Potters would always throw the Malfoy family under the Knight Bus for their own gain.
Potter spoke openly about the years of rivalry and how he perceived a change in Draco during the sixth year. Narcissa had tears in her eyes and even Lucius looked ashamed as he provided evidence of her broken boy in the bathroom who wanted to end his life; her child at the top of the Astronomy Tower who could not kill despite the threats which hung over his head; her son who lied at the manor so as to not live as his father's shadow; the young man who, in the end, had joined the battle against the Dark Lord's madness. He told the courts that Draco had saved his life three times: at the Manor when he refused to identify Harry, in the Room of Requirement when he forewarned Harry that Vince and Greg were behind him with their wands drawn, and during the final battle when he'd returned the wand to him.
Draco was surprised to find that Hagrid, Neville, and Minerva were summoned to defend him too.
Minerva spoke about the different Draco of the seventh year; quiet and withdrawn but not defeated by that which he'd been drawn into. She told of her suspicions of the fake 'Cruciatus' and Poppy Pomfrey's confirmation the Draco's curse was not a true Unforgivable. She spoke of how Draco was the one who stepped up to spare his contemporaries and save the students who were being submitted to the torture. She also spoke of the night after the escape from the Manor and how Draco had passed on welcome information but her understanding from Severus Snape was that Draco was constantly under the shadow of Voldemort's threats upon his parents' lives.
Neville confirmed to the courts about the fake 'Cruciatus', telling them of the incident in the corridor. He spoke of a school divided in appearance but silently working against a greater evil.
It was Hagrid who spoke about Draco's character, of the deeply troubled young man who needed someone to care for him and guide him and draw out the goodness in his heart, of the caring and gentle soul he'd shown himself to be in private over the past year. Narcissa wept when she heard Hagrid talk about her son in his gruff but honest words.
Kingsley asked about the sixth year and what drove Draco to do the Dark Lord's bidding.
A horrified silence fell around the courtroom when Draco explained.
He said quietly, 'I didn't know much about what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, only that I guessed the Dark Lord had been resurrected and, afterwards, my father was tasked to retrieve some secret information from the Ministry. As you know, the following June, he and eleven other Death-Eaters were arrested from the Department of Mysteries while trying to retrieve a prophecy made about Potter.' He nodded towards the man sitting beside the Minister for Magic. 'It was thirteen days after my sixteenth birthday and my life fell apart. I had worshipped my father, believed in him and his ways, and suddenly he was in Azkaban. I blamed Potter, not wanting to believe my father was at fault. I suppose we see our parents like that, we don't want to see them as fallible. When I returned home from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord was already occupying Malfoy Manor. I don't know why or how he came to be there but I can only guess Aunt Bellatrix had arranged it because they thought no one would search the Manor in my father's absence. Within 24hrs of returning home I had been given the Dark Mark. I had no choice, although I admit, beforehand, I thought it would be an honour. It was quickly apparent it was no honour. The Death-Eaters were little more than servants to do his bidding, receive his punishments, and bow before him as if he were a god. Within hours of being given the Mark I was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse because my father had failed his mission. My Mark was my father's punishment for failure - that was how the Dark Lord worked. And even from within Azkaban, my father would know that the Dark Lord now owned me. The Dark Lord then honoured me with two tasks: to get the Death-Eaters into Hogwarts, stealthily, and to kill Albus Dumbledore. He was very specific that I should do this latter task, it was supposed to be a worthy tribute to the Dark Lord, my first murder. It didn't need spelling out that if I failed, I would either be killed by Dumbledore himself, Aurors, or the Dark Lord. It was a suicide mission for how was a naïve sixteen-year-old supposed to kill the greatest wizard of all time - the wizard who'd defeated Grindelwald?'
'Why didn't you go to Albus?' Kingsley asked.
'I didn't trust him or his ways. But you must understand, I had been brought up with very stringent beliefs in Pureblood superiority and the righteousness of Pureblood traditions. I suppose you could call it indoctrinated, even. At that time, I believed in this fanaticism. Dumbledore stood against everything my father taught me. It was all I knew and I worshipped my father so I had no reason to question what he told me. But, the Dark Lord also threatened me, or rather, he used the lives of my parents as leverage. He said that my father would only be extricated from Azkaban the day Dumbledore died, so it was an incentive to get the job done quickly. As I struggled to work out what to do, he told me he was considering gifting my mother to Fenrir Greyback on the next full moon unless I made progress. I had no reason not to believe him. I felt I had no choice but to do what he asked. Each full moon was a nightmare. I kept convincing myself it was an honour, a moment of glory, but I knew I didn't believe it. The day Potter found me in the bathroom was the day I fully conceded I didn't believe in his cause and that I couldn't do what he asked. I thought that if I killed myself, then the threat on my mother's life was empty. It was the only way I could see to save her.'
Lucius finally hung his head in humiliation.
'What changed your mind?' Kingsley questioned before the horrified courtroom. The sympathy palpable.
'Potter... Harry... We'd had a fight and I ended up in the Hospital Wing and he came to see me afterwards, to apologise. He said he couldn't possibly guess what was going on or what I was facing but he told me not to give up hope, that the results might end up different to how we imagine. That without hope we have nothing... I went back to the task of getting the Death-Eaters into the school. I knew that the Order of Phoenix were often patrolling, inside as well as the parameters, I could only hope that the next part of the plan failed. Though obviously not...' Draco finished quietly, guilt gnawing at his insides.
'...apart from Dumbledore knew he was dying,' Potter interjected. 'He had a month at most to live. He also knew what Draco had been tasked to do so he'd arranged that it should be Severus to raise his wand and cast the final curse. He planned it. He needed Voldemort to think his plan succeeded. You cannot blame yourself.' He looked at Draco, his green eyes burning with sincerity. 'Draco, believe me. You are not to blame here. Voldemort, yes... but even Dumbledore is complicit in what you were put through in the sixth year...'
The court gasped at Harry's assertion but the Minister for Magic held up his hand for silence. 'I'm afraid Mr Potter is perfectly right, no matter how much Albus did for us, no matter how well he planned his long game, and we cannot forget that he set many pieces in place so the war could be won at the right time. However, he did use people as a means to an end. Mr Potter himself will attest to this. So, Mr Draco Malfoy's own suffering may have been prevented but Albus clearly didn't look on it that way.'
'Can I say something?' Draco asked quietly.
'Yes,' Kingsley nodded.
'I think, if I hadn't gone through what I did, I would never have switched allegiances. No one could have told me any different, I had to work it out for myself. That way I came to truly believe that the Dark Lord was wrong, what he was asking me to do was wrong. What his followers were doing was wrong. If I hadn't witnessed his ways and the ways of someone like my Aunt Bellatrix and the Carrows, then I wouldn't have understood the lack of humanity they possessed. That's why I became so determined to work out the silent fake curse. I can only suspect that Severus provided me with the book but I could never ask because the wrong word to the wrong person would ensure my death or, worse, my mother's. I'll never be able to ask him now. But I worked through the night to work it out and asked Blaise Zabini cast it on me first. I can't tell you the elation afterwards. I had been thrown to the floor, tears coursing uncontrollably down my face, my limbs spasming, yet absolutely no pain. That's why I could step up to cast on the behest of the Carrows each time. I also wanted too because I watched my fellow Slytherins fall apart at the requests that always fell to us. I saw how wrong it all was, from the inside. We didn't possess the bravery of the likes of Neville or Ginevra Weasley or Luna Lovegood to stand up and say no and then receive the punishment instead. I found Blaise being violently sick after once Defence class when he'd been told to cast an Unforgiveable on a first year; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had no self-control; Theo and Millie withdrew inwards and stopped talking; Pansy would have panic attacks despite her attempts at bravery; Daphne stopped eating. And all through this, the Dark Lord was delighted. I witnessed how he rejoiced in the pain and torture of adults and children alike. He was so pleased with me because word got back about my willingness to practice "Dark Magic" on the younger years, he sent me a note congratulating me. It was sickening. So, perhaps if I hadn't gone through that journey, I would've maintained a naïve view of what was occurring around me. Merlin, the Dark Lord murdered Professor Burbage for teaching Muggle Studies and because she wanted to marry her soulmate, wizard or otherwise... I had to watch Bellatrix torturing Hermione Granger in my home. Miss Granger was just a witch, my age, and it was no longer relevant that she was Muggleborn as I watched Bellatrix carve the word "Mudblood" into her skin and revelled in it... what can possibly be right about that sort of inhumane sadism? How can anyone justify that senseless behaviour?'
'Why didn't you stop her?' someone shouted angrily from the gallery.
Kingsley banged his gavel on his desk, 'ORDER!'
'I believe Draco wanted to try but I held him back,' spoke up Narcissa. 'If he'd given himself away, we were outnumbered by Snatchers, a rabid werewolf, my sister, and my husband. And the Dark Lord had been summoned. Plus, we were trying to cope with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley escaping and summoning wands left, right, and centre, while they rescued Miss Granger and Griphook with the help of an errant House-Elf. And my sister was in one of her bloodlust frenzies. She was a considerably powerful witch and would have taken on the lot of you with considerable ease if the mood had taken her. She was a frightening and foul creature, worse when she came out of Azkaban. She had no barriers and lacked any iota of compassion. She would have happily cast the killing curse on Draco or me if we'd openly defied the Dark Lord. She was obsessed with him beyond reason. She... loved him...' There was a curl to Narcissa's lip as she spoke which expressed her disgust. 'You must understand the difficult position my son and I were in. That day at the Manor was the first time I realised that Draco didn't follow in his father's footsteps but we could never have discussed it, not even hinted at our doubts between each other. It wasn't worth the risk. If anyone found out then it would have meant our deaths. Much of that time was simply about survival, hoping to get from one day to the next without revealing an iota of doubt in the cause that might raise suspicion as to our loyalties. It meant telling no one, confiding in no one. The Dark Lord was second only to Severus Snape in Legilimens and he liked to use Veritaserum to interrogate. We had to appear beyond reproach at all times. In fact, that evening when Mr Potter and his friends escaped from the Manor, the Dark Lord sent for Severus to break through my Occlumens barriers, he was the only one who could and I'm not sure how much he found out that night but the next few days were truly terrifying as our fates lay in his hands. I believed, at that time, he truly was the Dark Lord's right-hand man. Mr Potter's words to my son were very wise. We could only hope that the outcome would prove otherwise to the course we were set upon. Hope was all we had. We helped in the very small ways that we could but it was very difficult.'
'But your ways weren't small,' argued Potter defiantly. 'They made an enormous difference to me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm owe you both life-debts for saving me.'
'No!' said Draco and Narcissa simultaneously.
'You were the one who saved my life from the Fiendfyre,' said Draco quietly. 'I owe you...'
'We can argue the toss about that one later,' Potter grinned. 'But I couldn't have defeated Voldemort without you both.'
There was a recoiling hiss around the courtroom at Potter's use of the Dark Lord's name and Potter rolled his eyes. It was like the final stone crumbling away as Draco saw the ridiculousness of being afraid of a name. A name of a dead man who was, quite probably, utterly mad. He suddenly wanted to laugh at the freedom of the realisation, he was no longer cowed by Voldemort and even if he ended up back in Azkaban, Potter had given him the gift of freedom that no one could take away from him.
Finally, Draco explained how his father had summoned him in the courtyard at Hogwarts. 'I wasn't going to go. Even though we all thought Potter was dead, even though I thought all was beyond hope by then. I had switched allegiances long before the battle, probably long before the bathroom incident. It took that to cement it all in place. I just hadn't openly expressed it because I needed to know my mother was safe. There was something in the way she asked me to go to her side, she somehow conveyed the importance that I join her. I went for her, not Voldemort or my father. When I reached her side, she passed me the wand, signalling fractionally to Potter...'
Draco's father performed what was possibly his only unselfish act in his entire life by blaming himself entirely for his family's downfall and accepted punishment on behalf the Malfoys. He was condemned to receive the Dementor's Kiss and Draco thought his father had simply given up, he'd admitted failure and this was the price. It was almost as if it were easier for Lucius to accept death than face reality of his decisions and the damage it had caused to both his family and his name.
They arranged with the Wizengamot to sell the Manor and donate the money as reparation costs. It was agreed that it could be handled through Gringotts, neither wanted to go back there. Oddly enough, Lucius's eyes gleamed with triumph throughout the discussions about the manor, his gaze fixed upon Potter as if he'd won some great victory.
He was taken away, laughing manically, and people shook their heads with sadness of a once great and powerful man who had fallen so far.
Narcissa and Draco were released without further ado.
Draco didn't get a chance to thank Potter after the trial; Potter was whisked away by the Minister for some important meeting, he overheard something about the Muggle Prime Minister but no more. He noticed Minerva McGonagall was by his side, changed into equally as smart 'Muggle' attire, including a proper hat. She was holding a tie.
'I told you to wear this,' she was fussing.
Potter snatched it with a grimace and they were whisked away but not before Draco noticed Potter scrubbing an anxious hand through his hair again.
Narcissa and Draco walked out of Ministry with their heads held high because Potter's testimony. Lucius's death offered Draco and his mother a chance. Narcissa stayed with her plan to move to France though she kept her surname, taking pride in her widowhood. Draco moved into their London house in St John's Wood and quietly retreated from the Wizarding World. He turned away from the public eye despite living in London. He became an enigma but people left him alone. When news broke that Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, and Rubeus Hagrid had spoken up for him; that was enough, it seemed. Still, it was easier to hide away, despite all that Potter had done for him in clearing his name. He couldn't help but think of Potter often, almost as if a hole had been left in his life. Surprisingly, he missed Potter more than he missed his father.
Still, Draco threw himself into his new life. Hope had given him this opportunity for if he hadn't believed Potter's words that night, he would never have made it through the war. And now... well, he had a plan. He was going to take the opportunity of freedom in both hands and, first of all, he was going to finish his N.E.W.T.s and then, part in the Muggle World and part in the Wizarding World, he was going to study his purest passion in life. But the first thing he did was go out and buy his two Kneazles.
Two pure white Kneazles called Iolaus and Otrera.
***