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Catch and Release	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 19606 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe aren't mine and I'm not making any profit from the writing of this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
It was the day of the re-sentencing
hearing.� Lucius
was numb.� It had been nearly eight
weeks.� It was now crystal clear that Draco was not in the market for his apologies.� He had given up the love of his life in the
hopes that someday he could make it all right, but he was never even going to
get the chance.� In light of that, he
found it very hard to care what the Wizengamot was
going to do to him.

They watched him bathe, dressed him
in some cheap robes, and shipped him off to the Ministry.� There were three Aurors
strong-arming him everywhere, as if he was about to crack and attempt to kill
everyone in the courtroom.� It was
ludicrous; couldn�t they tell he had no will to do anything anymore?

At least he�d drawn a crowd.� Depending on the mix of people, the audience
would prompt the Wizengamot to leniency�or to
condemnation.� It could go either
way.�

In one last burst of hope, he
lifted his head to scan the crowd.�
Perhaps Hermione was there among the masses.� If she was, though, he wasn�t able to spot
her in the few minutes he had to look.�
Maybe it was better that way.�
Seeing her might be the last straw.

Perhaps he ought to let himself
break down.� Maybe that would stun them
all into compassion.� Or, like Draco, they would believe it to be nothing more than
another ploy, an act, and be spurred to an unprecedented harshness.� It was his own fault that people had
difficulty trusting his behavior.� So
much of his life had been spent acting that authenticity was now
indistinguishable from deceit.� He was
the proverbial boy who cried wolf.

He was alone.� His Wizengamot-appointed lawyer was either running late or had
fallen prey to one of the court�s favorite tricks � sudden time changes for
hearings.� That didn�t bode well for the
general sentiment in the room.� If they
were trying to trip up his lawyer and leave him defenseless, they were clearly
out for blood.

They could have it.� For once in his damned life he had tried to
do the right thing and this was the result.�
If he had felt disillusioned before, it was nothing compared to what he
felt now.

Nine am came too quickly, and still
he was alone.� He was the single occupant
of the great courtroom floor, shackled like a circus animal; he felt the eyes
on him.� Some were familiar, some were
not, but all bore a similar thread of vicious curiosity.� He was most likely doomed.

In another five minutes, the bulk
of the Wizengamot was assembled in front of him.� They were intimidating in spite of the fact
that some of the members were so old that they resembled gnarled trees more
than people.� He knew that the room had
been designed to make it so; fear went a long way in milking confessions, and
the architecture did its job of isolating and debasing the person on trial only
too well.

�Mr. Malfoy,�
the Supreme Mugwump spoke down to him in a booming
voice.� �Where is your lawyer?�

�I don�t know, sir,� he answered
simply.

�You don�t know,� the other wizard
repeated.� �Well, our schedule cannot be
held up because of your miscommunications.�

His miscommunications.� That was rich.� The old Lucius
would have said something caustic, but he didn�t care to now.� There was no point.

�Are you prepared to defend
yourself?�

What the hell?� It wouldn�t matter what he said or did,
anyway.

�Yes, sir.�

�Very well.� Mr. Malfoy, were
you or were you not, on the date of June 3, 1996, sentenced to 3 years in
Azkaban for criminal trespass and supporting You-Know-Who?�

�I was.�

�And did you or did you not escape
the next year, prior to the fulfillment of your sentence?�

�I did not escape, sir, I was
removed by others.�

�That is irrelevant.� You can�t expect us to believe you protested
them.�

�It�s never smart to protest
against an armed Death Eater.�

�Thank you for reminding us,� the
Supreme Mugwump answered coldly.� �Mr. Malfoy, did
you ever return to complete that sentence?�

�Yes.��

The Mugwump
addressed the room.� �To refresh
everyone�s memory, Mr. Malfoy was again arrested
after the Battle of Hogwarts.� He was
sentenced to an additional fifteen years, with the two left over from his
previous sentence doubled and added on as penalty, for a total of nineteen
additional years in prison for support of You-Know-Who, participation in crimes
against half-bloods and Muggleborns, and terrorizing
the wizarding populace.� This was a generous sentence, made possible
only by the fact that during most of his year as a fugitive, Mr. Malfoy did not have a wand, and the questionable perception
by some that during the Battle of Hogwarts, he was not fighting for
You-Know-Who.�

�I wasn�t,� Lucius
spoke up.� �I was fighting for my son.�

�The very son you allowed to become
entangled in You-Know-Who�s sick regime?�

�I didn�t allow anything.� My son had nothing to do with Voldemort until you
so kindly imprisoned me and left him vulnerable to that monster.�

�Do not speak his name!� the older
wizard thundered, pointing his gavel at Lucius.� �And perhaps you should have thought of that
while you were supporting a madman.�

Lucius
shook his head.� �You act like it was
such a simple choice, like deciding whether you want sugar in your tea or not.�

�To some the choice of right versus wrong is simple, Mr. Malfoy.� Evidently not to you.�

He just sighed, knowing that no
manner of explanation could make them understand why he had done what he had
done so long ago.� He had tried that in
the first trial.� They just couldn�t
understand the mindset, the crushing fear that he and those like him would
become irrelevant�that their entire way of life would change, and not for the
better.� He didn�t feel that way now, but
at the time it had been powerful enough to make him throw his lot in with questionable
people; it was only after he was in too deep that he had realized just how poor
a decision it was.� From that point on,
it was only survival.� Do enough to be
perceived as loyal, yet never enough to cross over into real mindless violence.� He was fortunate that the Dark Lord had not
taken offense at his obvious desire to cover his own ass.� Voldemort
appreciated cleverness and often lamented that more of his supporters didn�t
possess that level of subtlety.� ��

In his gut, Lucius
knew all of it could have turned out much worse.� Had he committed graver transgressions, he
would have been in Azkaban for life.�
Nineteen years was downright generous when the offender was a Death
Eater.

�Anyhow,� the Supreme Mugwump went on, �please tell us how many years you went on
to serve.�

�Fifteen,� Lucius
responded without hesitation.�

�Fifteen.� Not nineteen.�

�No, sir.�

�Do you deny that on the afternoon
of September 4, 2013, you somehow escaped Azkaban prison?�

�I don�t deny it.�

�Before your sentence was up?�

�Before it was
up.�

�Let the record show that the
defendant has confessed to breaking out of prison prior to the end of his
sentence.�

Hermione stood near the back,
worrying her fingernails to shreds.� Padma was next to her, most likely to prevent her from
doing anything stupid.� She knew without
question that she would if they became too ruthless.� She was not going to let them put the man she
loved in stasis.� It was cruel, it was
inhumane, and he didn�t deserve it.� No
one did.

She had no plan, but her willpower
was strong enough.� She would march up
there and tell them just what she thought of their dirty tricks, of forcing him
to testify without his lawyer, of throwing �innocent until proven guilty�
straight out the window to assassinate his character while he stood, alone,
abandoned by everyone and everything, in the center of their three ring circus�

�He�s doing well,� Padma whispered, squeezing her arm.

Well?� This was well?� Hermione blinked, barely able to think
through the haze of heartache and adrenaline.

�Mr. Malfoy,�
the Supreme Mugwump began again, �will you share with
us the manner in which you were able to escape the considerable security of
Azkaban?�

Oh, he knew they were going to ask
that.� He dreaded it.� Lucius thought by
now that it should have been obvious; they had the pictures of him in the
water.� Couldn�t they put two and two
together?

Ah, but they never had.� All but two Azkaban breakouts had been
through brute force or inside betrayal.�
Only he and Sirius Black remained elusive.

He couldn�t tell them that he had
used his animagus form.� The changes they would institute to prevent
that�well, they would be unbearable.� The
memory of the feeling of absolute magical deprivation returned to him and he
shuddered.� Azkaban was inhumane to begin
with.� To give them a reason to make it
more so�he wouldn�t do it.

Nevermind
that he would likely be slapped with additional prison time for being an
unregistered animagus�No, he
would let them think what they would.�
He�d take his chances.�

Lucius
found his voice.� �I will not share that,
sir.�

The Mugwump
blinked, as if he could not believe what he�d just heard.� �Excuse me?�

�I said that I will not share the
manner in which I escaped, your honor.�

The other wizard sat back in his
chair.� �If you are trying to protect
someone, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you reconsider.�

They clearly thought he�d had
inside help.� Ironic, then, that the only
help he�d had was in the spiteful motivation provided by the late Sirius
Black.� And the spider.� Yes, the poor, traumatized spider in the
corner of his cell.� He wondered if it
was still there.

�I did not have any
assistance.� There�s no one to protect.�

�Mr. Malfoy,
you must realize that by refusing to cooperate with us, you force us to take
more extreme measures to contain you.� If
we don�t know how you escaped, how can we be certain that you won�t just do it
again the moment we return you to Azkaban?�

�You can be certain because of what
I have been saying all along.� I came
back to finish my sentence, to fulfill the remainder of my debt to this society,
so that I can one day return to my family�whether they want me or not.�

�So you expect us to take you at
your word?�� He laughed.� �The same word that assured us that you were
under the Imperius during the first war?� The same one that claims to
have been forcibly removed from Azkaban during your first breakout?� The words that portray you as a victim rather
than the criminal you are?�

Padma
glanced at Hermione and swallowed.� The
other witch was trembling with anger.�
She had come to know Hermione well during their years as coworkers and
she recognized the volcanic force building in her.� Hermione did well to keep her temper in
check, but when it was pushed too far, she would explode.

When she did, it was with a force
that was both eerily rational and frighteningly irrational.� She would scream like a person crazed, but
the words that came out of her mouth made sense.� Her logic would go a long way even in this
frigid courtroom, but her physical anger would not.

Padma
sighed and prayed that this was not going in the direction she thought.� If it did, she had no real right to stop
Hermione and she wouldn�t.� It was
obvious how much she loved Lucius.� If there was any way at all that she could
help his situation, she was going to do it whether Padma
stunned, bound, and gagged her, or not.�
That was what made her a Gryffindor � her pure, unadulterated
determination.

Once again, Lucius
said nothing.� It was useless to argue
with a man who already had his mind made up.�
After a sufficient lapse of silence, he cleared his throat.

�I understand your skepticism, sir,
but I must point out that if it was my intention to escape all over again, I
would never have come back in the first place.�

�Yes, why, indeed, would you have
returned?�� He tapped his gavel mockingly
against his chin.� �Did you run out of
money, Mr. Malfoy?�
Perhaps you simply could not stand how irrelevant you had become.� Maybe you were eager to latch yourself onto
your son�s good name?� I can think of any
number of reasons a spoiled, rich, fame-grubbing man such as yourself
would choose to thrust himself back into the spotlight.�

Draco
stood in shadow, his wife�s words repeating on a loop in his head.�

You�ve
only got one father, Draco.�

He
is willing to go BACK to Azkaban for you.

Don�t
you want your children to have a grandfather?�

My
father�s gone but yours is right here, ready, waiting.

He�s
lived among Muggles, he must be different.

�� If you can�t forgive you�re no
better than he was back then.

�� �Son of a bitch,� he whispered
to himself.� A part of him knew Astoria was right.� He had rarely known a Slytherin
woman to be as forgiving as she, and he was damn lucky; he�d met her at a time
when forgiveness was in short supply.� Astoria alone had made the
rough years after the war livable.� He
loved her with every scrap of his being and if anyone had a prayer of
convincing him to do something he didn�t want to do, it was her.

The fact that she had recently lost
her father didn�t help.� She was
devastated and couldn�t understand his resentment of his own sire.� She wanted him to accept his father back into
his life because one never knew when the chance would be taken away from him,
and no amount of argument would dissuade her.�

He listened to the Supreme Mugwump methodically tear his father apart, and suddenly he
remembered his own anger at being treated that way once upon a time.

��while it was certainly very noble
of you to turn yourself in, Mr. Malfoy, I must
disenchant you of the notion that it will earn you any leniency.� You are a felon, a fugitive, and a prime
example of what our society is better off without.�

Hermione was turning white, her
lips tighter than a vice.� Padma braced herself.�
Mount Granger was going to erupt.

�

Suddenly, the sound of a steady,
rhythmic clapping interrupted the Supreme Mugwump�s
tirade.� It was one person bringing his
palms together as he walked forward across the black floor of the Wizengamot.� Lucius turned, as confused by the interruption as everyone
else.

The man was dressed in the most expensive
of business robes.� His face was sharp,
his eyes hard, and his hair perfectly coiffed.�
Grey eyes, blond hair, his mother�s bow-shaped upper lip.� Draco.

Air would not enter his lungs.� Spots blinked before his eyes.� His son
had come!

�Well, this is nice,� Draco said, addressing the Wizengamot,
his voice steely.� �I�m really enjoying
this farce of justice.�

�Mr. Malfoy,�
the Supreme Mugwump faltered, �you cannot walk in
mid-trial--�

Draco
laughed.� �This is a trial?� Purposely
misleading a man�s lawyer into thinking the trial has been rescheduled until
tomorrow?� Not allowing him to call
witnesses?� Badgering him with prior
accusations that have no bearing on the present case?� My, my, I seem to be having d�j� vu.� I recall another handsome blond rendered mute
by an angry court that wanted to exact revenge for crimes he didn�t
commit.� Do you remember that, or has it
slipped your minds?�

The Supreme Mugwump
opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

Draco
stepped forward.� Though the Wizengamot was seated high above him, it didn�t seem to
matter in that moment.� He was the
picture of arrogant confidence.

�This charade will be declared a
mistrial.� I will take over counsel for
Mr. Malfoy, and if you have any real crime to charge him with, we will appear in court at your
request.� Any attempt at misdirection
will earn you a motion to dismiss and my client will walk out of here a free
man.� Is that understood?�

�Watch your tone, Mr. Malfoy.� You may be a
representative of this court, but you will not be allowed to speak to your
superiors in such a manner.�

�When my superiors begin acting
appropriately, I will address them as such.�

Spots of red rose on the Supreme Mugwump�s cheeks.� He
lifted his gavel, and it was obvious that he was ready to declare Draco in contempt.�
At the last moment, the elderly woman next to him took hold of his
wrist.� She shook her head.� The grind of the Mugwump�s
teeth was practically audible, but he held off.

�You will receive our summons,� he
announced coldly.

�I look forward to it,� Draco replied just as coldly.

Lucius
was in a deep shock as the court began to disband.� So stunned was he that he didn�t realize he
was supposed to be following his son as Draco turned
to exit.� Draco
whipped around and barked, �Well, are you coming?�

Lucius
tried to reply, but words weren�t forthcoming.�
He settled for simply bowing his head and trailing after the smartly
polished shoes that encased Draco�s feet.� He didn�t want people to see his
emotion.� His eyes were wet and there was
nothing he could do about it.

He proceeded like that until a hand
grazed over his arm near the door.� He
recognized the delicate fingers, though the nails were a bit worn down now�

Lucius
looked up, and his eyes were filled with the second most beautiful sight of the
day.� Hermione.� He was desperate to open his mouth, to tell
her he loved her, but the crowd swept him along, stifling his confession.

She just smiled, warmth beaming
from her eyes.� That warmth settled in
his bones.� She knew.

She and Padma
were alone in their office, processing all that had happened.

�You talked to Draco,
didn�t you?� Padma asked after a while.

�I practically shoved him through
the wall of the elevator,� Hermione admitted.

Padma
chuckled.

He was in a small room with Draco, probably an Auror
interrogation room.� He knew them
well.� He couldn�t stop staring at his
son.

Draco was
pacing.� Left, right,
left, right, his designer shoes clicking with each step.� It was a comforting sound, one that stilled
his racing mind until only one thing remained.�
The repeating mantra Draco is here Draco is here my son is here he�s here he cares he�s here�

Draco
suddenly stopped pacing and leaned his palms on the table.� After a moment, he pointed at one of the
chairs.

�Your only job here is to sit down,
shut up, and let me think.�

As if he had been
making so much noise.� Lucius couldn�t summon any resentment at the terse quality
of Draco�s words.�
He was too euphoric.

He sat down, he shut up, and he
watched as the wheels turned.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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