Chapter Text
The silence in the courtroom was so oppressive that Hermione could hear the shuffling of feet and robes from the audience. At one point, it sounded as if someone was trying to smother their cough with a hand.
Hermione felt her jaw tick.
A flutter of fear bloomed within her chest— it was not her own. It was Draco’s. She suppressed their connection to keep herself calm and level headed. She could talk her way out of most situations as long as she kept him out of her mind.
She took a steadying breath before speaking. “I don’t believe that my soulbond with him has any place within this court, nor is the nature of our relationship relevant to the case on hand. We are discussing Mr. Malfoy’s supposed crimes—“
Tiberius sat back in his chair as he looked at her with mild impatience. “You are defending him, are you not? Therefore, it seems as if any ties to him are relevant to the case. It’s hardly an impartial opinion you are offering us if you are here defending your mate.”
Mate.
A bubble of anger grew and Hermione shut it down swiftly as she folded her hands in front of her, fingers lacing together. She took a calming breath and placed a small smile on her face. She had never considered Draco to be her mate, but she felt a reaction to it nonetheless.
She feigned patience she did not have. “Once again, I may have a bond with Mr Malfoy, but it does not have any prevalence to my defense of him. I am speaking on behalf of his actions and the accusations against him as a person of one’s own mind and thoughts. What he and I have has no effect on that situation as most occurred prior to the bond coming into place.”
A dark brow arched as Tiberius clicked his tongue. “Once again, it does have a place here. Because according to his own memories that he offered us, he attacked and killed Auror Dawlish because he felt the need to defend you.”
Hermione was silent for a long moment as she let the words sink in. He was not necessarily wrong.
“Maybe Auror Dawlish should have followed proper procedure when bringing in a fugitive for questioning instead of threatening and attacking myself, Mr. Malfoy and his parents.” Silence met her rebuttal, yet she continued. “Now, I can see why you may feel the need to bring up my own personal life and relationships, but I am not the one on trial and I have done nothing wrong. Unless you can—“
“Mr. Malfoy tracked down and attacked your husband, did he not?” Mrs Greengrass now chimed in.
It took everything in her power to not snort in frustration. “My ex-husband.”
“The paperwork is not finalized yet, so husband still stands as the proper term,” Mrs Greengrass responded coolly, “but you did not answer the question.”
“Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley have been rivals since Hogwarts. It is likely that while in his draconian form he acted on aggression and sought the next person he could think of.”
“And this current disagreement between Mr Malfoy and your husband—“ Mrs. Greengrass replied levelly.
Hermione practically hissed, feeling Draco’s annoyance growing as his fingers tensed on the arms of the chair.
Mrs. Greengrass took no notice as she continued to speak. “— is over you, is it not?”
She knew she could not answer this with complete honesty without damning herself and Draco in the process. Instead she diverted, “If petty jealousy or instinct was the case, Mr Malfoy would have attacked his brother, Charlie Weasley.”
The pause was poignant and clearly waiting for further explanation.
“Whom I also slept with.”
Hermione was aware that all the attention left them and swung hard to Charlie. He visibly shrank slightly in his seat as his brother shot daggers at him, Ron’s hands clenching in his lap. She was sure the two would have pummeled each other had they not been separated by their parents.
“Charlie Weasley—“ Molly was scolding her son and Tiberius slammed the gavel down to stop it before it began.
Mrs. Greengrass spoke again. “Then how do you explain the fact that Mr Malfoy burned and destroyed many districts of London in a fit of rage?”
Hermione had no excuse or real reason to offer, so she bit her tongue.
“Because Weasley is a dumb fuck who needed his ass pounded into the dirt for ignoring his wife’s expectations and for breaking her heart.” Came Draco’s bored drawl. He didn’t even look remotely sorry as Hermione glared at him to shut up. He shrugged a non-apologetic shoulder at her.
Merlin’s beard, she wanted to slap him for opening his mouth.
“Thank you for proving my point,” Tiberius spoke. He shuffled through the papers before him. “And in regards to Charlie Weasley— you were working with him in Romania?”
“Yes. He was in contact with me for several years and weeks leading up to the invitation for me to join him. I work at the Ministry in the Beasts division and he wanted my assistance to help bring aid and attention to his Dragon Sanctuary.”
Tiberius was quiet for a moment as he looked over his notes. “How about we have Charlie Weasley come down to the stand and offer a testimony? We have his memories here but since we are apparently bending all the rules…” He looked over his spectacles at Hermione pointedly.
There was a smattering of hushed words as Charlie excused himself from where he sat and he once again took his place beside Hermione, but he maintained a respectable distance away. She was grateful for his friendship and felt a pang at having to throw him under the knight bus in such a manner; but it was the only way to clear any doubt from the Warlocks' minds.
“For the record, you are Mr. Charlie Weasley— brother to Hermione Weasley’s husband, correct?”
Charlie cleared his throat as he rocked on his heels a little. “Ahem, yes. I am Ronald Weasley’s older brother, who was her husband.”
She restrained her smirk at his cool correction.
“And did you or did you not sleep with her, as she so claims?”
A slight smirk touched his lips even as his weathered face turned a slight shade of pink beneath the heavy tan. “I did. In Romania— and since I know where this line of questioning is heading, it was right after she walked in on her now ex-husband with another woman at their home. He claimed to be filing for divorce at the time. And while it technically may not be proper behavior, we proceeded to have sex. Shortly thereafter, we returned to our friendship as if it had never happened—“ there was a slight grimace on his face and Hermione looked away, “— and she soon bonded with Mr Malfoy.”
“Who was a… dragon?” Tiberius raised a brow.
“Yes?” Charlie replied boredly. “Why are you asking that question? You’ve clearly examined her memories and his. Did you forget to write that part down or are you requiring verification? I doubt either of their memories have been tampered with— unless you have trust issues within your own unit and at which point, I suggest you call this case to a halt.”
Hermione glanced affectionately towards Charlie; she was mildly surprised that the mild-mannered Weasley would speak out in such a way, but she knew that most of her friends would side with her. And in essence, with Draco. Even Harry had seemed supportive while she prepared for this trial.
Tiberius spoke again, “To reiterate, Mrs Weasley—“
“For fuck’s sake, it’s Miss Granger.” Draco snapped loudly.
The Chief Warlock continued over the interruption, “— went to Romania to help research this unknown species of dragon, which turned out to be the animagus form of Draco Malfoy. She, through some means, came to learn that he was cursed to live this way from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and she then set out to break said curse. For some reason that is unclear to me, she then decided to bring him to England— smuggled him, rather— and pretended to be unaware of the consequences of aiding a known fugitive. Upon the discovery, an Auror went to place them under arrest and he reacted violently. He then proceeded to hunt down Mr. Ronald Weasley and destroy London. Is that correct?”
Charlie glanced towards Hermione, “Is he asking me? Or you?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Hermione answered for him. “That is a very vague, somewhat incorrect, hasty summary of the incidents that occurred.”
Hermione had to bite back a retort to correct him, yet again, on mislabelling Draco’s curse– as if he had been willing to be turned into a dragon and become an animagus. Somehow, she knew that no matter how much she tried to pound it into Tiberius’ head, he would not understand it. Or care to. It was arguing over schematics at this point and she needed to focus on the larger picture.
“So, that makes him guilty on the counts of attempted homicide, homicide, and destruction of government property and loss of life,” Tiberius stated clearly. “And that is separate from his past misdemeanors, which you claim need to be forgiven, and will be excused due at this time to the situation they occurred and the understanding of this board.”
Her relief was brief. She hesitated as she glanced towards Draco; there was no way to excuse what he had done. Even though much of it had been out of his power, he was guilty of those things. Her heart clenched at the thought of what he had sacrificed, intentional or not. Of what it meant for him.
“Yes, Tiberius. I did those things,” Draco drawled as he looked at Tiberius steadily. She could feel his frustration. “You can quit asking everyone else what happened when I will readily and willingly tell you. Hermione Granger is my bonded mate. It was unaccounted for and unexpected. Neither of us wanted it and yet she remained. She did what she had to do to help me break the curse. And in the end, it meant I had to die . I died. And the only reason I am here to be held accountable for my mistakes, my outbursts, is because she held onto my soul as if it were her own. So you know what? Stop playing these word games with her. You and everyone up there has already made up their mind about me. You had already decided my fate before I even stepped into this room. So say it.”
Tiberius’ jaw clenched as he held Draco’s gaze. Charlie had melted back into the audience, leaving Hermione to stand as his only defense. She reached a hand blindly towards Draco, her hand finding his even without knowing exactly where his hand lay. It was out of a sense of him, an extension of herself. His fingers were warm against hers; despite that, she had felt the blood draining away to leave a chill in its wake at the growing tension that even Draco’s heat could not keep at bay. Her heart thrummed in her chest, fluttering anxiously, as she waited for the sentencing. To hear if she had been successful in clearing Draco’s name– though the weight in her chest reminded her to not get her hopes up.
“I, Chief Warlock Tiberius Ogden, find Draco Lucius Malfoy guilty of the crimes he has confessed to. He is sentenced to Azkaban for the remainder of his mortal life. He is eligible for reevaluation in five years and possible parole, and his sentence may be reduced down to twenty five years- only because he was cursed, which is why he is even being given the option.”
The sound that broke out in the courtroom was deafening. The gavel was loud as Tiberius tried to silence the crowd. Draco could not tell if the uproar was in celebration or damnation of the sentence that was given; nor did he truly care.
Draco felt anger and frustration fill his mind. His vision narrowed sharply until he could only feel his own heart thundering in his chest, the roar of it in his ears drowning out everything around him.
He had expected no less.
He had known that he was to be sentenced, and harshly so. It had been unavoidable.
He may have been gone for years, but that had not erased his crimes during the war. Somehow, Hermione had managed to convince them that those no longer mattered, though he doubted that was their issue. It had merely been a farce to bring him in and get him here. To throw him into chains while deciding a fate that would be best to rightfully punish him.
He knew his own memories were far more damning than hers, or anyone’s, had been.
He may have been a dragon, a beast , driven on instinct to protect Hermione. But he had been in his right mind nonetheless. He had been aware of what he was doing; and he had not cared enough to stop what he was doing.
Which was why he never spoke up during the entirety of this trial; he knew they had already made their decision before they had arrived and he knew no matter what was said, it would not make a lick of difference. Their minds had been made years ago when he had disappeared.
Bitter, old witches and wizards bent on a grudge of punishing the final Death Eater that had eluded them.
Draco finally looked at Hermione; the color had drained from her face and he could see the gears turning in her mind. She was frantically trying to reformulate an argument. Something, anything. To save him. The warmth at that thought was brief, but he knew it would only backfire on her now. She needed to use that brain of hers and protect herself. She would work better away from here, studying and planning a rebuttal in silence.
“Hermione.” Draco said quietly, giving her fingers a squeeze.
She needed to leave before they hauled him away.
She ignored him as she gaped up at Tiberius, who was rising to his feet. He could feel her anger, her magic crackling at her fingertips. Her hair seemed to dance with sparks.
“ Hermione.” He was more persistent, pressing his thoughts against her. The urgency.
Her eyes snapped to his as the warlocks began to file out and the door opened somewhere behind them. Draco could hear footsteps approaching, Aurors coming to take him. Not to a waiting cell this time, but to Azkaban. He steeled himself against the first bite of panic as it rose like a bile in his throat.
“I can’t— they just— Draco, let me fix this—“ She was desperate as she looked over his shoulder towards the approaching Aurors, her grip punishingly tight, as if she were terrified to let him go.
But Draco’s thoughts veered from himself as he looked at her, memorizing her. She had done a lot by coming forward to defend him. By telling everyone that she was his: his mate. His partner. That he had burned the city down, for her.
But she had believed in him, and Draco felt regret over none of it.
“Hermione,” he said quietly. He had seconds. “You need to leave. Now. Those that wanted me locked up will not be pleased you sided with me. That you are bonded to me. You don’t realize how much danger you are in by being with me.”
Hermione was shaking her head. “Don’t talk stupid. No one cares—“
The jeering of the crowd as the Aurors reached him said otherwise. There were others already approaching them and he realized who was coming before she did. He had expected this; that people who had fought in the war, who had lost loved ones, who still despise him. Hate him, and his entire family. Which now, in their eyes, Hermione was a part of by being bound to him. To make matters worse for her, she had spoken so vehemently in his defense that it would have rubbed countless people the wrong way. He did not necessarily think anyone would try to harm her , the Golden Girl herself and friend of their savior, Harry Potter… but there were other ways to cause harm.
Draco didn’t look away from her as he spoke. “Charlie. Potter. Take her. Take her someplace safe, away from her. Guard her.”
“Wait, Draco—“ She tried to grip his hand tighter but the Aurors were already releasing him from the chair. She was reaching for him as they tore his hand from his. Her friends were there in an instant, Harry wearing his own Auror robes and using his position in the Ministry to keep others away, whereas Charlie was gripping her forearms to hold her back. For a moment, he thought she might tear herself free and throw herself at the Aurors who were roughly hauling him upright and backwards.
“Let’s go, Malfoy,” one of them growled over the growing noise of the guard.
“Promise me, Harry, promise me you’ll get her out of here in one piece.”
A grim nod was his only response before he was whirled away. The panic was starting to take hold now, clawing at him. His heart hammered loudly, drowning out the people around him. The jeering. The insults. None of them cared about him. Only Hermione. He cast one last glance over his shoulder at her, at his witch, who had been willing to throw herself onto the stand for him and risk everything.
For him.
The doors slammed shut behind him and in an instant, he was whirled away from the Ministry.