The elation of victory after the Battle of Hogwarts was a short-lived affair. There were trials to be conducted to imprison those Death Eaters who hadn't been killed in battle. Funerals had to be arranged on both sides for those who had fallen. There was relief that the Dark Lord had finally fallen, this time for good, but now the process of healing and rebuilding what was broken and lost had to begin. Witches and wizards were waking up into a new world, and they each would have to find their place in it.
Draco Malfoy had no such place in this new and bright future. He didn't deserve it, not after everything he had done. In the immediate aftermath of the Battle, his father— already a fugitive of the law —had been re-imprisoned in Azkaban to complete the rest of his initial sentence with an additional sentence imposed for the subsequent mass breakout and his involvement with the Dark Lord's operations at Malfoy Manor. Meanwhile, Narcissa and Draco had been kept in the holding cells in the Ministry dungeons because there was simply no room left for them in the old fortress; the number of Death Eaters too large to contend with.
Now Draco sat in the centre of the courtroom chained to his chair next to his mother. He expected the worst and, as far as he was concerned, they deserved no less. Not after everything that had happened— not after everything he had done. Chief Warlock Bedelia Eswrick hammered the gavel loudly to gain the bustling courtroom's attention before declaring loudly, "The court calls Harry James Potter to the stand."
An excited murmur erupted throughout the courtroom as the door behind Draco creaked open. Draco felt his heart sink and fixed his gaze on his shoes as he heard Harry's uneven steps approach, the squeak of his trainers echoing throughout the hall as he walked past Draco and sat in a witness chair nearby.
"Mr Potter, you have come here of your own free volition to provide evidence to this court?" asked Eswrick in a monotonous voice.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Harry.
His shuffling footsteps may have betrayed his nerves to Draco, but his voice gave nothing away— it was unwavering and self-assured. Draco continued to stare unblinkingly at the laces of his shoes.
"Very well," said Eswrick. "You have requested to provide testimony for the court on the case of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy."
"Actually Ma'am, I'm here to speak on behalf of the defendants," Harry replied.
Draco's head snapped up at this and the courtroom erupted into shouts and jeers. Draco looked at Harry then; he looked tired and weary, but his mouth was set in a thin line of determination. Draco glanced at his mother to gauge her reaction, unable to believe what he was hearing— was this some kind of prank? Narcissa Malfoy, unlike the rest of the courtroom, looked entirely unruffled by this revelation.
"Order! Order!" shouted Eswrick, banging her gavel hard. "Mr Potter, am I to understand that you are here in support of the defence?"
"That is correct, Ma'am." Harry answered. "I'd like to speak on behalf of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy."
The former Boy Who Lived, now hardened war-veteran, pleaded the case that it was Draco's refusal to identify him that had saved his and his friend's lives that late winter evening at Malfoy Manor before they had managed to escape. And furthermore, that it was Narcissa's defiance against the Dark Lord that saved him that night in the Forbidden Forest during The Final Battle, and thus played a key part in the war's victory. Draco stared at his feet while Harry spoke but listened intently to his testimony, his mind racing. The Wizengamot, however, didn't look convinced.
"Mr Potter," Chief Warlock Eswrick sighed. "This family supported and aided in the Dark Lord's campaign of terror against the Wizarding World. They opened their home to him, harboured him during the height of his reign. They are incriminated in a number of crimes— kidnap, torture, murder—"
"I cannot speak for what Lucius Malfoy did— I know that his trial has already concluded —but with regards to Narcissa and Draco Malfoy..." Harry paused, and Draco finally glanced up to look up at him. He was taken aback, because Harry was looking right at him – tired, emerald eyes on shadowed, steel-grey. The look on his face was not what he had expected. He had braced himself for the boy who he had bullied relentlessly throughout their school years to look at him with his usual disdain, but there was none. No malice, nor hate— all the emotions that deservedly should be directed towards him— just sadness. The intensity of Harry's stare made Draco's chest tighten, and he averted his gaze.
"Draco and Narcissa Malfoy are not good people. They hold prejudices that I find deplorable. They are bullies. But just because they aren't good people doesn't mean that they are guilty. Both of them defied Voldemort, and both times it saved my life. Why? The reasons are their own. But their actions must be taken into account.
"Albus Dumbledore believed in giving people second chances. He believed that everybody had a chance at redemption— including repentant Death Eaters." Harry finished. There was a murmur among the Wizengamot.
"Severus Snape spent the better part of seventeen years working to defeat The Dark Lord. The defendants' actions are hardly comparable," argued one of the judges.
"My point exactly," said Harry. "Severus Snape was given a second chance, and he spent the rest of his life fighting against Voldemort. I think it only fitting, in honour of the memory of both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, to grant the defendants a second chance also."
A low murmur spread out amongst the judges then, some frowning and shaking their heads and others nodding slowly. Against all odds, Draco and Narcissa had been released without charge that day. However the Ministry still saw fit to seize all of the Malfoy's assets— the Manor included —in recompense for their actions. This left Draco and his mother at the mercy of their friends, of which they had none.
They used what little money they did have to stay in a Muggle hotel in London. Despite Narcissa's reservations, she had no other option since every Wizarding establishment had refused them entry. Draco privately preferred this arrangement— since Muggles didn't know who they were, they were given some respite from the dark mutterings and stares that now followed them everywhere. His mother had left the country soon after their trial to take up residence with some distant relatives in France, unable and unwilling to deal with the outpouring of hatred towards her and her family. She had been hesitant about leaving Draco behind after everything that they had been through, but he had insisted that she go on without him with the promise that he would write to her regularly and try to visit her as often as he could.
The hard truth was that despite everything, Draco was reluctant to leave Britain. Partly because, unlike his mother, he was not fluent in French. He had had lessons as a child of course, but seeing no real use for them at the time he had neglected his lessons for more interesting pursuits like Quidditch. More importantly, Draco still felt that Britain was his home, and he wasn't ready to up and leave behind the only life he'd ever known forever. Now that their court proceedings had ended and their affairs at the bank were settled, Draco was unsure how he was going to make a living. With both his mother and father gone, at seventeen he was now solely responsible for his own well-being. It was a terrifying prospect. He knew he wasn't likely to find anywhere in Wizarding Britain to employ him, and he didn't know enough about the Muggle world to even know where to begin trying to get a job. If he didn't find something soon, he would have no choice but to leave.
But now was not the time to worry about all of that. Draco grabbed his cloak and hurried out of the hotel— he had other places to be today. He stepped out onto the street bustling with Muggles, pulling his cloak closer to protect against the heavy rain. He strode down a nearby alleyway, taking care to make sure he had the all clear before Disapparating to a high black fence that bore the sign "Treverbyn Cemetery". It wasn't raining here thankfully, but the dark grey clouds hung over the gravestones promising a downpour. Draco walked carefully and quietly through the graveyard until he heard a voice, loud and mournful. He beelined off of the gravel path towards some nearby trees, following the voice as it grew louder until a large group of mourners came into view. He stood far back, taking cover beside a large elm tree, careful not to be seen.
He could see the priest standing in the centre as mourners clad in black surrounded him, heads hung in a solemn prayer. He could make out a few familiar faces too. Lots of red hair, that'll be the Weasleys. Lovegood stood out because she was the only one not wearing black, sporting sunflower yellow robes instead. The gameskeeper, Hagrid, was the easiest to point out next to Lovegood, towering head and shoulders above everyone else. Potter and Granger were standing next to him, no surprise there. Granger was crying as Ron Weasley, looking forlorn, squeezed her shoulder. Potter looked even more exhausted than he had at Draco's trial. He watched him for a few more moments, then there was movement as the mourners slowly began to break apart and shuffle back down the gravel path towards the exit, indicating that the funeral service was concluded. Draco took a step back, hiding himself behind the tree trunk, waiting for everybody to leave.
When the footsteps had died away and he was sure that he was the only one left, Draco emerged from his hiding place and headed for the gravesite. He stopped at the head of the gravestone and read the inscription:
In Loving Memory of
John Remus Lupin
Born 10 March 1960
Died 2 May 1998
And his beloved wife
Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin
Born 7th May 1973
Died 2 May 1998
Beloved parents of Teddy, now lying at peace.
Draco pulled out a wreath of white flowers from his cloak, placing it with the utmost care on the gravestone. His stomach twisted as he took in the many floral tributes that had been left for them, focusing instead on the white marble gravestone.
"I know I'm probably the last person you'd want to be here. Lupin, the short time I knew you I wasn't very kind to you. I wanted to apologise for that— for being a prat in school. Nymphadora...you were family, and I never even knew you. I know you probably can't even hear me talking, but I wanted to come just to say...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I got to live and you didn't. You both have so many people who love you and so much to live for, but I'm the one who gets to live. If there was any justice in the world I'd be the one in the ground and you would still be alive. But there isn't. You're gone, and I get to spend the rest of my life thinking we should swap places. I know deep down you're not really here— that I'm just talking to myself. But I had to come. I know how little my apology is worth, but for what it is worth, I am sorry."
Draco choked and he broke into a strangled sob. Even though there was nobody else there he tried not to make too much noise, but the effort to control his tears was difficult and his shoulders shook violently. He stood there for a long time, mulling over his many regrets. He wondered why he thought that visiting the graveside of the cousin he never knew would provide some clarity to everything that had happened during the war, because it didn't. The realisation that more often than not there was no rhyme nor reason for what had happened. That so many people had suffered and died for no greater purpose, was a revelation that shook Draco to his core. There was no good reason for this to have happened. For any of it.
The rain began to pour. Draco Disapparated, more at a loss than ever before with what he should do.