Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy had spent a lot of time healing after the war. Not that he had been given much choice in the matter. When the war was over, Draco felt like a shell of who he used to be. If he was being honest with himself, he had felt like a shell since the Dark Lord had moved into his childhood home in sixth year. He wasn’t given much choice in that matter either.
He had tried to rebel in what little ways he could, tiny ways that wouldn’t cause his family more death and destruction. When the Carrows were stalking the halls of Hogwarts, Draco had helped set up an emergency ward in the Room of Requirements. He stayed up long into the night brewing healing potions and leaving them for the braver Gryffindors to find. He broke into the minds of kids he was supposed to do the Cruciatus curse on and begged them to pretend that it hurt and then kept his spells as mild as possible. They would feel mild muscle cramping instead of the full torture. Thankfully, they all played along and screamed. Even fake, those screams still haunted him. He ran interference between the Carrows and younger students or stupid brave ones. It was never enough but in small ways, he tried. He kept it to the shadows, sure that no one really noticed.
When Potter, Granger and the Weasel had been delivered to his home by snatchers, he stalled as long as possible. Of course, he recognized them, no matter what had happened to Potter’s face. He would know Granger anywhere in any lifetime. Not that he was in any position to admit how or why he had memorized her features. When his Aunt tortured Granger, he felt like his insides were on fire. He tried to go into her mind, like he did the younger kids, but his mother had recognized what he was trying to do and had yanked his back. He never forgave her for that. He never forgave her for holding him back while his crazy Aunt carved up Grangers flawless skin. So, when the chandelier fell and their old house elf Dobby showed up, he did the only thing he could think to do. He threw Potter a wand before they grabbed Granger and disappeared.
The final battle was something else entirely. Draco wandered the halls of his school, dodging spells, covertly shooting his own at fellow Death Eaters, trying to find where the fuck the Golden Trio had disappeared to. Golden Trio…. what a stupid fucking name. That didn’t describe the Weasel at all. Now Granger on the other hand….
When the Dark Lord proclaimed his victory while Hagrid carried the body of Potter, Draco had felt his world collapse. He had felt so confident that Potter would figure it out. That the noseless git would finally be bested. To see Potter lifeless had almost brought Draco to his knees. He stood among his classmates: too shocked to move. His parents stood across the courtyard with the other Death Eaters, silently beckoning him to join them. It was the most difficult decision of his life. He hated his mother for not allowing him to save Granger. He hated his Father for giving him, his only son, to the Dark Lord. And so, his feet stayed rooted to the spot and Draco had looked away from the only family he had. He had stood his ground and then Neville Fucking Longbottom had killed the snake and the boy who couldn’t die had sprung back to life. Draco shot spells across the courtyard with his classmates. He thought he blended in and no one noticed.
When it was over, the Aurors still arrested him. He had the disgusting Dark Mark on his arm and that alone was enough to convict him. He had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He had tried to kill Dumbledore in order to save his mother. The things he had done in secret weren’t nearly enough. He was rounding up with the rest of the filth and deposited into a dark cell to await trial. He didn’t cry until night had fallen and then, he only let the tears run silently down his face.
The guards were assholes. The food was absolute slow. He had no news from outside. No one would tell him about his parents or Potter or Granger. He had no visitors. He had no way to track time. Just the constant cold to keep him company. It could have been days, weeks or even years, but one day, the cell door was yanked open. Draco peered at the light that hurt his eyes. A shadow came at him quickly, tugging his arms around his back. Draco yelped as his sore muscles screamed.
“Easy Fucker. I’m not going anywhere.” He croaked. His voice was gravelly from unuse. The guard snorted and roughly dragged him from his cell. He was showed into a cage and the man leered at him.
“I hope they give you the Kiss, you Death Eater scum.”
With that, the cage lifted slowly. Draco cowered, covering his face with his hands as light and sound assaulted him. People were talking over themselves. He couldn’t hear anything except the constant buzzing in his ears. When his eyes finally adjusted, Draco looked around. He was in the Wizengamot. This was his trial.
Oh. Shit.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy. You stand accused of conspiring to kill muggles and muggle born, allowing Death Eaters access to Hogwarts, conspiring to kill the Headmaster, the use of all three Unforgiveable curses and being a follower of Voldemort. How do you plead?” The Chief Warlock looked down on him and Draco had no idea what to say. His legs were shaking and he knew his voice would be too.
“I…um…” He croaked. He could feel his chest tightening and breathing was suddenly very difficult.
“He please not guilty by reason of coercion and being an underage wizard.” Draco’s head whipped to the left where a man in a sharp suit stood. He had to be his solicitor.
“Yeah.” He nodded and tried to keep his voice from breaking. “That.” Someone snorted behind him and Draco tried to turn around to see who it was but the chains wrapped around his body kept him from moving anything but his head.
“Very well. Call your first witness.” Another voice boomed out.
And then they came. It was a literal line of people speaking on his behalf. Young first and second years testified about him not using the Cruciatus Curse on them or taking the punishment himself. Professor McGonagall spoke about his grades, his potential and the fact that Dumbledore was already dying and had Severus Snape perform the Killing Curse instead. She spoke about how Dumbledore believed in Draco (A stupid decision, really.) Neville Longbottom took the stand and spoke about the potions Draco brewed and the hospital he helped stock and guard from the Carrows. Draco was blown away. If the chains hadn’t been holding him up, he would have fallen to his knees. He didn’t think anyone had seen the things he did in the shadows. He had been mistaken.
And then came Saint Potter. Potter took the stand with a crumpled parchment in his hand, his hair was its usual mess and then his green eyes bore into Draco. He told everyone that Draco was a prat, a spoiled git that bullied people to make himself feel bigger. That’s about when Draco lost all hope. He couldn’t look at Potter anymore. Because everything he was saying was also true. It was all true. He had been awful. Beyond words awful to so many people back when his life was still his own. Then Potter took a breath and recounted that terrible day at Malfoy Manor. He spoke about how Draco didn’t identify them, how he gave them a wand. He told everyone about the final battle and Draco fighting against the Death Eaters. He finished his time by saying, “Draco Malfoy was a spoiled pray but even prats grow up sometime and he deserves a change to show us he can keep being better.”
When Potter walked past him, Draco caught his eye. He nodded his head and mouthed, “Thank you, Harry” Potter just smiled softly and kept walking.
His solicitor stood and cleared his throat, “Our later witness is Hermione Granger.” Draco’s head snapped to the front, and he watched her lithe form climb into the seat. She was still too thin. Her mountain of curls was pulled into a controlled bun and her face was serious. She did not have a parchment like Potter, and she didn’t appear nervous like Longbottom. Draco felt the butterflies in his stomach take flight as she stared right at him.
“My name is Hermione Granger, and I am here to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy.” Draco swallowed, that might have been the first time she had ever used his first name. “Draco was my first school bully.” Uh Oh. Not a good start. “He made fun of my hair, my teeth and mostly my blood.” She paused, taking a breath. “But that was all Draco knew. He was born into a family that told him every day he was better and people like me were less. He had never even met a muggle or muggleborn until he was eleven years old and arrived at Hogwarts. A persons personality is formed within the first few years of life and with the only influence of Pureblood society, of course Draco didn’t know any better. I WATCHED Draco wither away in sixth year. I didn’t know the task he had been given, I didn’t know what was weighing on his shoulders, but I knew it was something big. Of course, we all found out what it was, but it wasn’t just Dumbledore alone in that Astronomy tower. Harry saw everything and he also saw Draco lower his wand. We know what happened after that. When Draco was given the chance to turn us in at his manor, he refused. I know he knew who we were. There was no way he didn’t recognize us. When Bellatrix was torturing me, I felt Draco enter my mind. I felt him try to make it better.” His breath caught in his throat. He had no idea that she knew about that. He had no idea it had made any difference. “In one of the scariest, worst moments of my life, I didn’t feel completely alone. He did what little he could without exposing himself or his family. I knew on that day that I forgave Draco Malfoy for being my bully.”
Hermione Granger went on to speak about the final battle and the same points Potter brought up but Draco could barely hear any of it. Forgiveness? She forgave him. He didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t earned that mercy. What the hell was she thinking? His eyes burned as he watched her and tried to focus.
“Don’t punish Draco for being the product of his environment. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for the sins of the father. Don’t punish a boy, because he was just a boy, for trying to save his mother. He deserves a chance to continue to follow the path of redemption that he started down. Thank you.” Granger stood and made her way to the seats. Unlike Potter, she kept her face straight ahead and didn’t look his way. He felt another part of himself break.
A decision was made to take a break and Draco’s cage was lowered into the floor again. They undid his chains and dragged him back to his cell. He didn’t fight. He was in too much shock. For the first time in his life, people had stood up for him. People had seen him. Granger. Potter. He sat on the cold ground and wrapped his arms around his knees.
Hours later, he was in the same position when the guards returned. They didn’t speak this time, just silently wrapped him in chains and shoved him into the cage again. The world buzzed around him. Order was called and a sentence was announced. One year of house arrest, two years of probation with wand checks. Draco was given his second chance.
He was taken back through the floor and the chains were removed. They took him into another room and stripped off his prison garb. Someone tossed him the clothes he had been arrested in. They still smelled like the fires that had raged around Hogwarts. An Auror came into the door and started talking about all his house arrest rules. Draco could only hear buzzing. It didn’t matter. Someone would fill him in.
And then two of them grabbed each of his arms and apparated. Draco barely had time to brace. He almost embarrassed himself further by vomiting on the lawn, but he managed to choke it back with a few deep breaths. The Aurors led him through the open gates. Malfoy Manor loomed in the distance, bathed in fog. As they climbed the steps, the front door opened. Narcissa Malfoy stood at the entrance. Her hand went to her mouth in a sob, an unusual break from her Pureblood character. Draco looked at her. He tried to feel something. Anything loving. But all he felt when he looked at her was betrayal.
“Welcome home, my dragon.” She said softly as the Aurors let go of his arms. He rolled his shoulders and then walked past her without a word. He didn’t stop until he was behind the door of his bedroom. Only then did his legs finally give out. He slid down the door and quietly sobbed.