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Atonement	By : absumoaevum Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13720 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor to I make any money from this story. These characters are JKR's, I just play with them.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
It turns out that writing a trial is really, really hard. Please be nice. Also, I have a question for you. If you were on the Wizengamot, would you dismiss the charges against Narcissa? Tell me in a review!

Chapter 16

Sympathy for the Martyr

The mood inside of the courtroom was tense, wavering somewhere between excitement and trepidation. Behind the little group of witnesses where Hermione sat wedged between Ron and Luna, reporters and other bystanders kept up a continuous hum of whispered chatter. She couldn't differentiate one conversation from other. Snatches of sentences like, "never start on time" and "open and shut case" reached her ears, but she tried to ignore them.

Instead, she gazed around at the courtroom itself. It was similar to what Harry had described from Wizengamot courtrooms he'd visited before: high ceilings, rows of stone plinths where the members of the Wizengamot wearing plum-colored robes embroidered with a silver letter 'W' sat hunched over papers or else talking in quiet voices with each other, seating for the public spectators and press, and a single, stone chair at the center of the room. Chains hung limply, ominously, off of the arms of the chair, which would have looked like a throne had it not been so menacing. Hermione wondered if she would have to sit in that chair. How would it feel? She thought it would be hard not to feel like she herself was on trial, swallowed up in the gloomy high-backed stone seat.

She saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, at the center of the Wizengamot. Leaned toward Kingsley and talking fast was a man Hermione knew from Harry and Ron's letters was Reginald Williamson, the newly-appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. To Kingsley's left, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister sat with her spectacles perched at the end of her pointed nose reading a large stack of papers, the point of her quill in her mouth. Hermione thought her name might be Gelindas. She'd been quoted in the Daily Prophet in the weeks preceding the trial. As Hermione watched her, Gelindas checked her watch and looked around the courtroom. Hermione turned away quickly so that the witch would not catch her staring.

Ron took her hand and held it in his, rubbing her knuckles and smiling a little. "Don't be nervous," he whispered soothingly.

"Hard not to be," she replied. She felt the importance of this trial bearing down on her and wished it could already be over, that she could be back at Hogwarts doing homework or eating dinner in the Great Hall with her friends.

Just then, Malfoy, Narcissa, MacDougal, and the woman who had been standing with them entered the courtroom to a renewed bout of echoing murmurs. Narcissa was immediately swept away from her counsel and her son by an imposing-looking auror. "That's Savage," said Ron beside her. "He's intense." Ron left it at that. Savage was escorting Narcissa to the huge stone chair. When she sat, the chains rattled, but stayed put. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

Malfoy took his place between Harry and Mr. Ollivander, and MacDougal led the other woman to a seat at the end of the spectator's stands before sitting down near the witnesses.

"Is everybody ready to begin?" boomed Kingsley's commanding voice from the center of the dais. Many members of the Wizengamot nodded, watching Kingsley or Narcissa from their lofty seats. "Very well. Trial proceedings of the fifteen of October into offences committed before and during the Second Wizarding War by Narcissa Malfoy, resident at Malfoy Manor, Salisbury, Wiltshire.

"Interrogators: Kinglsey Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Reginald Williamson, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Marisol Gelindas, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Court Scribe, Evangeline Leach; Counsel for the Defense, Hackney MacDougal… And everyone else," he finished with the hint of a smile. Here and there, people stifled a nervous giggle. MacDougal stood up and crossed to stand beside Narcissa, who was gazing unblinkingly up at Kingsley.

"The charges against the accused are as follows: That she did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, aid in the kidnapping of Mr. Garrick Ollivander, Ms. Luna Lovegood, Mr. Harry Potter, Ms. Hermione Granger, Mr. Ronald Weasley, Mr. Dean Thomas, and the goblin Griphook, now deceased. Furthermore, that she did knowingly and deliberately act as an accessory to murder to the organization calling themselves the Death Eaters, that she did commit obstruction of justice, trespass upon the property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the intent to take part in the abduction and subsequent murder of Mr. Harry Potter, that she perpetrated various hate crimes directed toward muggleborns and employees of the Ministry of Magic as well as any supporters thereof, and that she did willfully endanger her own child, Mr. Draco Malfoy by condoning his acceptance of the Dark Mark as a Death Eater at the age of sixteen." Kingsley looked down at Narcissa, who was crying silently now, "You are Narcissa Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, Salisbury, Wiltshire?"

"Y-yes," she answered shakily.

"You were aware of the consequences of your actions when you allegedly committed these offenses?"

She nodded, her lip trembling.

"Please voice your replies for the record, Mrs. Malfoy," said Evangeline Leach, looking up from her quill and parchment.

"Yes, she was aware," answered MacDougal for Narcissa, who looked on the verge of dissolving completely into hysterics.

"Mrs. Malfoy, do you grant Counsel MacDougal the right to respond for you?" asked Leach.

Narcissa nodded again and swiped her fingers over her cheeks, wiping away her streaming tears.

"Very well," said Leach, returning to her parchment, "Continue."

"Your client understands the charges against her now brought before the Wizengamot for our judgment?"

"Yes."

"And your client understands that all witnesses called to testify before this council are required to submit to the interrogation of this council, as well as to your own questions?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish to issue an opening statement?"

"I wish to get this show on the road," said MacDougal. Kingsley raised his eyebrows at him, but nodded. "Counsel would like to address its first witness, Mr. Ronald Weasley."

Hermione listened as MacDougal asked Ron to briefly characterize his relationship to Nacissa ("not bloody good!") and then to explain, to the best of his recollection, the events of the night he, Hermione, and Harry had been brought to Malfoy Manor by snatchers. Ron started off talking about the peacocks, and was directed to recall specifically Narcissa's involvement in the incident. Here, Ron struggled. Hermione knew that anything he remembered was vastly overshadowed by his need to rescue her from torture and then their escape, aided by Dobby the house elf. Ron tried, however, and said that it was Narcissa who led them into the room where Malfoy and his father were sitting in some chairs by a fireplace. He mentioned that she'd said that they needed to be sure that Harry was Harry before they called Voldemort.

"She was all excited that the sodding snatchers had brought us. She recognized Hermione, then Bellatrix had seen the sword and she wanted to torture out of Hermione how we'd gotten it. Then we were forced into the cellar and we broke out and then everyone was throwing spells around and then Dobby came back and helped us escape. She was trying to drag Mal—Draco Malfoy out of the way of everything, but it was chaos, mate. I don't remember everything that happened, to tell you the truth," Ron finished rather lamely.

"And did Narcissa Malfoy direct any spells at you when you 'broke out'?" asked Williamson from the dais.

"Yeah! Yeah she did. She was really surprised. I dunno. I think we scared the hell out of her," Ron said.

MacDougal said, "Did you see any indication that Mrs. Malfoy was not acting of her own free will?"

"I don't remember," said Ron. "I think she was, yeah."

"Let's talk about the Battle of Hogwarts. Did you see Mrs. Malfoy there?"

"Right, yeah. She was running around at the end shouting for her son."

"And what about after that?"

"She was… sitting in the Great Hall with the rest of us."

"How did she appear to you?"

"Freaked out," said Ron. "Relieved."

"Relieved, as you all were, that the end had finally come?"

"Relieved to be there, yeah. I don't know why."

A few questions from the Wizengamot and MacDougal later, and Ron's testimony was complete. Now MacDougal turned to Hermione.

"Counsel for the Defense recognizes Ms. Hermione Granger," he said.

Hermione stiffened. What was he going to ask her? Even just listening to Ron talk about that night had been hard enough. He was going to make her relive it.

"Ms. Granger, can you tell us what it was like to be in Mrs. Malfoy's home?"

"It was… awful," said Hermione. She didn't know how to continue. She didn't want to do this. She felt like running out of the courtroom. Ron's hand tightened around hers and she tried to be strong.

"Please continue, Ms. Granger," said Gelindas from her seat at the plinth.

"I-I don't remember a lot of it. Like Ron said, it happened really fast. It was… dark. The place looked a bit beaten up. It was the headquarters for the Death Eaters, wasn't it? So, it was… like you would expect from something like that?"

"Did Mrs. Malfoy appear, in your estimation, to be in control of her home?"

"No," said Hermione quickly. "No, Bellatrix was definitely in charge. She was ordering everyone around. She's the one who… who tortured me."

"And what was Mrs. Malfoy doing while Mrs. Lestrange questioned you about the sword?"

Hermione tried to remember. The pain had been so intense, the memory so warped by agony, that she could barely recall it. "She was… I think she was standing in front of her son. He was holding her back." This was new to Hermione. Had Malfoy really been holding Narcissa back? Had she imagined that? No. Hermione could hear Narcissa's pleas to Bellatrix over the wracking pain of those minutes that had stretched into an eternity of torture. She could see Lucius looking bedraggled and pathetic, Malfoy torn between staring at her and trying to drag his gaze away from the scene, and Narcissa struggling to get free of Malfoy, her face a wretched mask of its former beauty. "Yes, she was trying to get to me. I… I don't know why she would… Why would she do that?"

"Ms. Granger," said MacDougal softly, "Is it ok if I ask the questions for now?"

Hermione blushed. "Yeah. Sorry," she said.

"So, Mrs. Malfoy was trying to get to you, correct?"

"Yes," said Hermione. She looked at Narcissa, now partially hidden by the chair. She was still staring at Kingsley.

"And what happened next?" asked MacDougal.

Hermione thought about this, trying hard to keep calm. "I can't… I can't remember. I passed out, I think. The next thing I remember is Shell Cottage."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

MacDougal moved on to Luna, asked her to describe her imprisonment in the Malfoy's cellar. Luna talked about how Narcissa had been almost kind to her, about how when she brought her and Ollivander food, she seemed torn and upset. She had asked Luna about her son. Luna described telling Narcissa all she knew about Malfoy at Hogwarts. She told of the argument between Narcissa and her sister Bellatrix over how she was treating the prisoners. After that, Narcissa had not come again. Ollivander's story was nearly identical to Luna's.

Now it was Malfoy's turn.

+++

MacDougal paced around in front of Draco a bit before finally turning to him. "Mr. Malfoy, you are the son of Narcissa Malfoy, are you not?"

"I am," Draco said levelly. From her chair, he heard his mother give a little cry of grief, then saw her whip her hand over her mouth to stifle the sob.

MacDougal was watching Draco intensely now. Draco met his gaze unflinchingly. "Do you believe that your mother ever intentionally did anything to harm you?"

"No."

"Can you think of anything that she might have done to prevent you from joining the organization which called itself the Death Eaters?"

Draco thought before replying. He remembered the sleepless nights spent arguing with his mother after the Dark Lord had offered to trade the lives of Draco's family for his loyalty. How his mother had been desperate to talk him out of the deal. How he had told her that it was an honor and she had said it was a death sentence. She'd wanted to run away together. She'd said all sorts of things. But, "No, there was nothing she could have done. It was my cooperation or all of my family's lives," he said.

"She wasn't happy you were following in your father's footsteps?" called a stump-nosed wizard from the Wizengamot.

Draco's head snapped in the direction of the question. "Of course not! No! She never wanted me to join! "

"Mr. Malfoy, did you ever witness your mother willingly participate in any Death Eater activities?" said MacDougal, drawing Draco back to him.

"She went to meetings. But she had to. Father never told her anything, so she went to find out what was going on. She never… she never killed anyone! Or tortured anyone!" said Draco. The thought of it made him feel nauseous. "The Dark Lord set up our house as headquarters, but he never asked us for permission. He just did whatever he wanted…. She wasn't a part of it, not really. She never took the Mark."

This was worse than anything he could have imagined. How could anyone think these things about his mother? She was… she loved him! She never wanted any of this for him or his father! This was despicable. Couldn't they see what all of this was doing to her?

MacDougal seemed to guess his thoughts. "How has your mother been coping since the fall of Lord Voldemort?"

"She's… a bit of a mess, really," said Draco, feeling guilty for admitting it. She could hear him saying these things about her. "She hadn't wanted me to go back to Hogwarts. She knew… what would happen. She wanted all of us to be together again. But my father… he's not doing well with all of it. It's a lot for her to take, but she's handling it better than I could if I were in her place." He wanted to gather his mother up in his arms and hold her, tell her that he loved her and that none of these people mattered. They, he and his mother, knew the truth. She'd had no choice. Neither of them had.

"Mr. Malfoy, just one more question. Can you tell this court what Voldemort would have done if Narcissa had questioned your inclusion in the Death Eaters, or, indeed, any of his decisions?"

"He would have tortured and killed her." There was not a doubt in Draco's mind about that. "And he would have done it in front of my father and me. To teach us a lesson."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco mostly ignored Potter's testimony. He'd heard from his mother about what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, about how she had been ordered to see if Potter was dead, found he wasn't, and then lied to the Dark Lord so that they could return to the castle as victors. So she could get to him. So she could make sure—absolutely sure—that her son was not dead. He did not look at Potter or MacDougal or his mother or anyone else. He was so tired, so consumed by his own guilt, that he could barely focus when the Wizengamot asked to question his mother. MacDougal addressed them, told them that she had declined to give evidence in her own defense, and referred to the necessary document allowing her to opt out of doing so.

So, all that was left was for MacDougal to give a closing statement. Draco heaved himself back from his thoughts and tried to listen. This was important, this summation. His mother hadn't wanted to speak in for herself. This statement from MacDougal was the last line of defense.

Facing the Wizengamot , MacDougal began:

"I want you, members of the Wizengamot, to take a good, hard look at Narcissa Malfoy. Think about what the last few years have been like for her. Her husband of over twenty years was thrown in jail after a shamble-of-a trial for breaking into the Ministry of Magic. Why? To steal a prophecy from a fifteen-year-old boy and his friends. Why? Because his master told him to.

"Her sixteen-year-old son was compelled to take his father's place as a Death Eater, then manipulated into accepting a mission to kill the Headmaster of his school, then forced to attend that same school the next year in the presence of brutal persons known for their cruelty to children. She watched, helpless and horrified, as her son was forced into the company of vicious werewolves, hardened killers, corrupt politicians, and the criminally insane, all of whom made up the ranks of the Death Eaters under Lord Voldemort.

"Meanwhile, her husband returned to her from Azkaban, wandless and dishonored. She saw how this murderous psychopath – Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord – controlled every aspect of her husband's life, their future and their son's future.

"For months, she was kept hostage in her home under the watchful eye of her own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the steady stream of Death Eaters who used Malfoy Manor as their base of operations without her consent. But she was powerless as her home became a prison for loyalists to Harry Potter and his cause. She was powerless to stop the mockery to which her husband's former friends subjected him. She was powerless to help her son, far away under the care of Lord Voldemort's right hand man, Severus Snape, who had only the year before shoved Draco out of the way to murder his predecessor as Headmaster of Hogwarts School. This man, this old friend of the family, now raised so high above her by the favor of the Dark Lord, this man with whom she had made an Unbreakable Vow, binding him to protect her son at school and to help him achieve his impossible mission, now held her son's life in his hands. And she was afraid. She was afraid because if she breathed one word of her fear for her family or herself, of her changing attitude toward the evil around her, she would be killed and her opportunity to be of some use to her wayward son would be lost forever.

"Gone were the days when she could scoff at others for the impurity of their blood or the number of galleons in their vault at Gringott's. She was lower even than the lowest of those she had scorned before. Because they could leave. They could escape. She could never do that, never run away and leave her husband and son tangled in so treacherous a web. This," he said, pointing to Narcissa where she trembled in her chair, "is a desperate woman. And this desperate woman took the first chance she could to bring her son and her husband and herself back together, the first chance she could to escape the tyranny of the Dark Lord forever. She told a lie: 'He is dead.' And with that lie, told to save her son from further harm, with the hope that finally, finally the fighting would stop, she abandoned Lord Voldemort and his supporters and altered the course of history forever. She is the reason we are here today, not only because this is her trial, but also because her love for her only son set us – all of us — free.

"So now, with her husband slipping slowly into mania and drink, and her son on trial for the crimes he had been forced to commit, the Wizengamot sees fit to this charge woman with, among other things, child endangerment. I ask you all, what more could she have done? Would you have preferred her to die? Because that was the fate awaiting her if she tried to interfere with the affairs of Death Eaters. And what good would her death be to anyone?

"It would not have protected her son, would not have saved her husband, would not have helped correct the mistakes she had made in the past. Narcissa will tell you that she wishes she would have had the courage to die before allowing her son to take the Dark Mark, a bloody business in and of itself, if only to avoid living with herself after. But I submit to you, members of the Wizengamot, that Narcissa was not free to even die as she wished. This is not exclusively because of her pitiful circumstances, though pitiful they were. This is because she is a mother.

"A mother's life is not just. It is not fair. She can't be trusted to make good decisions for herself. She is not fussed about doing 'the right thing.' She is not a person; she is not even really a woman. She is a thing living solely for her children, without thought for consequences or corollaries. Narcissa is such a mother. The rules did not apply. She lied, stole her chances, did whatever she had to do to survive and for her husband to survive so that her son would have a chance."

MacDougal looked down at the paper with the list of indictments brought against Narcissa for a long time before continuing. "These other charges are ridiculous in light of her situation, but child endangerment? You do not know the meaning of the charge if you apply it to this woman, this mother." He glared around at the Wizengamot, and many its members paled or shrank back from his contemptuous gaze. "Narcissa Malfoy lived for her child, for Draco, her only son. She loved him. Everything else was just a means to that end."

He stood there, every eye in the courtroom riveted to him with shock, as the weight of his words settled on all of their shoulders. Draco didn't know what else to think except that MacDougal was beyond amazing. He had given voice to everything Draco felt about his mother, everything she had had to face. He would never be able to pay back this debt.

There was silence for several minutes before Kingsley cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, counsel." MacDougal gave a curt little bow, and crossed to his seat. "I think," Kingsley said, "that, in light of what we have heard today, the Wizengamot will need some time to reach its decision. We will reconvene here tomorrow at nine o'clock to give our verdict."

The courtroom echoed with much shuffling and whispers, but Draco's gaze was trained on his mother, so small and still in that massive stone seat. She was looking down at her hands clasped in her lap where her white knuckles stood out against the brilliant midnight blue of her robes. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to assure her of the wisdom of MacDougal's summation, but he knew he would not be allowed. An Auror approached her then and murmured something in her ear. Mechanically, she stood up and permitted him to escort her from the room.
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Atonement