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The Dare	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 82904 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Don't own any of the characters. Am not making a profit.

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
In the Muggle World, it was common for the accused to be allowed to wear nice, professional clothing to their trials. Many Muggles would typically choose to wear business suits or something similar and would be given the chance to bathe and look presentable. But Muggles also did not have Dementors guarding their facilities. So, it came as no surprise to Hermione when Lucius walked into the room wearing the same ragged, thread bare clothes that she knew he wore in prison. His hair was unkempt and looked as though it could use a good wash. He didn’t have much of a beard, just scruff.

Hermione reached over and took Narcissa’s hand into hers as the Pureblood gasped at the sight of her husband. The older witch gave the girl a kind, reassuring pat. As they sat together, they watched others fall in, each person taking their seats and readying for the trial. When Astoria and her family walked in, they looked sombre and, for a moment, Hermione felt some sympathy for them. Until Astoria glanced at her and gave a look that was a mix between a smirk and hatred. The Muggle born frowned and leaned in close to Narcissa. “She knows something,” she whispered.

The Pureblood followed the young witch’s line of sight and pursed her lips. “Of course she does,” she stated simply. “We already know this, darling. Once Lucius is released, we’ll start working towards exposing the little tramp, but for now, we need to watch over these proceedings.”

The younger witch nodded with a frown as Draco joined them, sitting next to her. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Just look at the little bitch, acting all contrite,” he hissed under his breath. “She actually had the nerve to apologize to me in the lobby! Said she couldn’t believe the Aurors had taken it this far.”

Hermione looked at the girl sitting on the opposite side and leaned into her fiancé. “She knows what she’s doing,” she told him. “Any sort of sympathy she can garner will only work in her favour, or so she thinks.”

“Shh!” Narcissa hushed as the Wizengamot entered the took their seats.

(II)(II)

“Mrs. Malfoy, were you aware of your husband’s indiscretions?” asked Dumbledore, sitting as the Chief Warlock.

Narcissa sat up straight, her head held high and tilted in thought of his question. “I know, without a doubt, that my husband loves our family and myself…”

“That wasn’t the question, Mrs. Malfoy,” one of the jurors interrupted.

Glancing down at her husband seated in the middle of the stage, she set her jaw. “As his wife, I am well aware of everything he does,” she answered.

Dumbledore gave a slight nod and looked down at her. “So, you knew he was having an affair,” he commented, “with a child.”

She lifted a delicate eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I didn’t quite catch the question,” she told him.

“It has been brought to our attention that Lucius Malfoy hosts certain parties in the evening that are filled with debauchery. It was also brought to our attention that he may have invited children to join,” Dumbledore said, staring at Narcissa. “Would you care to shed some light on these events?”

Narcissa glared at him. “There isn’t a person here who doesn’t know of the after parties my husband hosts after large events. Many here have even participated in a few,” she claimed. “However, every person that has ever been invited has been of the age of consent. During the party, if a person does not wish to participate, it is not forced upon them.”

“It has been stated that Miss Hermione Granger was invited to such an event. Isn’t she your son’s betrothed?” asked one of the members of the Wizengamot.

The Pureblood witch shot the man a look. “I don’t see how that is any of your business. Miss Granger is seventeen and has surpassed the age of consent,” she stated. “Even if she had been invited, she is completely involved with my son. I have never seen her at an after party.”

“So your answer is yes, then?”

“My answer is it’s none of your business,” the woman stated. “We’re here for my husband, not for Miss Granger.”

“But doesn’t this effect your husband, Mrs. Malfoy?” the man asked, standing up. “If he’s invited Miss Granger to one of these parties, knowing how involved she is with his own son, what’s to stop him from invited other, young, impressionable minds to indulge in such depravity?”

“It’s called consent. If he invited Miss Granger, she was of the age of consent,” she pointed out. “Do we need a vocabulary lesson here, Mr. Faulkoor? Being of the age of consent means that Miss Granger, by law, can make rational decisions about her body without the need of parental permission. It means that if she is offered a chance to join an after party, she can, by law, accept. The last I checked, having an after party such as the ones my husband gives aren’t illegal, so I fail to see why this is even being brought up.” She looked back at Dumbledore. “My husband would never invite someone who is underage to such a party.”

“But he did invite someone who was underage, didn’t he, Mrs. Malfoy?” Mr. Faulkoor questioned. “Someone who was supposedly a friend of the family’s? Tell me, in your own words, what is the relationship between your husband and Miss Astoria Greengrass?”

Narcissa gave a small sigh. “Miss Greengrass is the youngest – I’m sorry – was the youngest daughter of Eugene Greengrass, who, as anyone could guess, was a former schoolmate and old colleague of my husband’s,” she explained. “Miss Greengrass is also a schoolmate of my son’s and they’ve known one another since infantry.”

“Is it true that Miss Greengrass was set to be betrothed to your son, but that Mr. Malfoy backed out of the deal at the last minute to cater to his son’s wishes?” he asked.

“I don’t know what this line of questioning has to do with this case, but no,” she replied angrily. “There were never any promises made. Draco has spent time with Miss Greengrass and they were playmates has children, but he had never expressed any interest in her.” Her eyes landed on Draco’s for a moment. “When my son was given power over the estate, it was alluded to, in fact, required by law due to ancient Pureblood customs, that he is to marry and soon. My husband had suggested the late Miss Greengrass because of how well Draco had gotten along with her. Draco had declined, stating that he was already interested in someone else.”

“The late Miss Greengrass, madam?”

The Pureblood inclined her head. “Daphne Greengrass,” she stated. “Given Astoria’s youthful age at the time, she had never even been considered. When Mr. Greengrass sent a letter to my husband requesting for Draco to be engaged to the younger Miss Greengrass… Well, you can imagine my shock and his as well. Either way, Draco would have none of it. He had already made up his mind. By that time, he and Miss Granger had begun dating.”

The man chuckled. “Well, given that your son is still underage…”

“Actually, he’s not,” Narcissa interrupted, lifting a brow. “And even if he was, we would still wish to allow him the choice of whom he wanted to marry. After all, he would have to live with his bride for the rest of his life, wouldn’t he?”

“This is a very progressive mindset, Mrs. Malfoy,” Faulkoor commented.

“Do you have any more questions regarding this trial or am I free to step down?” she asked, clearly agitated.

“About Miss Greengrass,” Faulkoor continued. “You say that your son turned down the idea of marrying her because he had already decided upon Miss Granger. That’s all well and good. So, what happened then? There is an account that your husband coerced Miss Greengrass into sleeping with him to gain the possibility of a husband. That he would help her find one.”

“As many here know, Christmas morning, our home was saddened to discover that Miss Daphne Greengrass had been murdered,” Narcissa said, drawing whispers about the room. “While the culprit remains at large, no one has felt as much remorse for the loss as my husband. He knew the devastating effects of her loss could have on the Greengrasses. He spoke with Mr. Greengrass and had offered his services to finding the younger Miss Greengrass a husband.”

More whispers and Dumbledore banged the gavel.

“Even in the ancient laws, such a thing isn’t heard of too often, Mrs. Malfoy,” Dumbledore stated as the room quieted down.

Her eyes narrowed. “The ancient laws made allowances for when a child was murdered. Particularly an older child,” she replied. “By the ancient laws, Miss Greengrass should already be betrothed and set to marry by the time she graduates from Hogwarts. However, I do believe Mr. Greengrass was putting too much faith in the idea that she would become engaged to my son. So much so, that he failed her. My husband, being the kind-hearted man that he is, took it upon himself to help his old friend and how was he repaid? Through forged photographs meant to incriminate him?”

“Forged, Mrs. Malfoy? That’s a pretty heavy allegation to make,” Faulkoor stated.

Narcissa raised a delicate eyebrow. “It is the only reason I can think such photographs exist,” she commented with a small lifting of her shoulders. “My husband is a smart man, Mr. Faulkoor. I doubt very seriously that he would allow such photographs to be taken without his knowledge. Aside from that, why in Merlin’s name would he meet at an inn when we have an entire Manor filled with hidden rooms and unknown passageways? He knows I spend most of my time in the gardens or library and rarely, if ever, traverse the corridors.”

“Are you saying your husband has brought mistresses into your home before?”

The Pureblood sniffed. “Well, given what I had just said, how would I know if he had?” she bit back.

Hermione hugged the book tightly as she watched. Stealing a glance at her fiancé, she wasn’t surprised to see that he hadn’t budged, but that his knuckles were white as he had fisted his hand angrily. Concerned, she reached out a hand and placed it gently over the fist. This made him jump and he looked down at her hand as she ran her fingers over his, gently encouraging his hand to relax. When she glanced up at him, he was staring at her. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile and his brows furrowed as his pinched his lips together. They threaded their fingers together and both looked back at the proceedings.

“Mrs. Malfoy, earlier you stated that you were aware that your husband was having an affair,” Faulkoor said.

“I never said that,” she pointed out.

“But you are aware of everything he does, are you not?” he asked. “And you also know that he hosts these so-called ‘after parties’ where people can participate in various forms of debauchery. Tell me, Mrs. Malfoy: Do you truly consent to your husband’s affairs? You speak of them as though they mean nothing to you.”

“Sex does not equate love, Mr. Faulkoor,” she stated simply. “Or did someone lie to you and say otherwise? I know where my husband keeps his heart and I know he would never do anything to harm our family.”

“An affair does not harm your family?” he questioned, looking dubious.

A small smirk lifted the corners of Narcissa’s lips. “No more than it does yours,” she answered. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and she touched her fingertips to her lips. “Or did your wife not know you had attended my husband’s parties on more than one occasion? For shame, Mr. Faulkoor.”

More murmuring could be heard throughout the courtroom and Dumbledore hit the gavel once more. “I will have quiet in this courtroom,” he demanded, his voice amplified by the acoustics of the room.

Faulkoor’s frown deepened and Hermione took the moment to study him. He was about middle-aged, his figure was beginning to becoming marred by too much luxury, particularly about the waist. His cropped brown hair did little to offer his features anything remotely pleasant to the eye. Of course, that could have been also because of the way he had questioned Narcissa.

“Mrs. Malfoy, my personal life is not on trial here,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Neither is my husband’s,” she said, calmly. “This trial is about whether or not he had managed to charm a young girl into his bed to the point that he would willingly submit to having pictures of the transgression occurring.”

“You speak as though he had a choice,” Faulkoor said. “But these pictures were taken without his knowledge.”

She smiled prettily at him. “Oh, I highly doubt that, Mr. Faulkoor,” she commented. “Unless they were forged.”

“I did not forge those photos!” Astoria shouted from across the room.

Hermione and Draco both stared at the girl and Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Mrs. Malfoy, you may step down,” Dumbledore stated.

“But I’m not done questioning her, Dumbledore!” Faulkoor insisted.

The Chief Warlord looked at the man. “Mr. Faulkoor, you’ve been going in circles around Mrs. Malfoy and I believe we can all agree that she does not believe her husband ever engaged in intimacy with Miss Greengrass,” he said in a bored tone. “I do not wish to be here all night.”

As Narcissa stepped down from the podium, Dumbledore nodded to her. “May we have Mr. Draco Malfoy approach the podium, please?”

(III)(III)

“Mr. Malfoy,” Faulkoor began, but Draco held up a hand.

“Before you start,” he warned, his eyes narrow as he stares at the man maliciously, “I will not answer any question regarding my bride-to-be. She has nothing to do with Astoria Greengrass or the allegations that are listed against my father. I won’t have you make assumptions in an effort to smear her name.”

The man looked surprised and gave a not so elegant shrug. “I wouldn’t dream of disempowering Merlin’s heiress, Mr. Malfoy. She is, after all, the Princess of the Golden Trio and the brains of said party who destroyed You-Know-Who,” he said, glancing up at Hermione and giving her a short bow. “We are all very much appreciative of her work.”

The Muggle born frowned at him as Draco scowled. There was a momentary pause as Faulkoor paced up and down a vacant section of the juror panel. “Mr. Malfoy,” he said, gazing down at his feet, “it has been said that Miss Greengrass was under the impression that she was to marry you, but you had backed out the moment you learned of this. Is that true?”

“I’m not the one on trial,” Draco growled. “As your question does not pertain to this trial, I don’t have to answer you.”

Faulkoor glanced at Dumbledore. “Professor, I do have a valid reason for asking this question,” he assured the older man.

The Chief Warlord steepled his fingers and tapped them against his chin as he stared at the wizard. “Very well. Go ahead and answer the question, Draco. As you’ve said, you are not on trial, therefore, your statement won’t be held against you,” he advised.

Hermione honestly thought he wasn’t going to answer. The sour look Draco had cast upon the Headmaster and then turned on to Faulkoor gave her every reason to believe he would refuse. “The question is misleading,” he said. “Mr. Faulkoor would have the jury believe that there had been an agreement between my father and Mr. Greengrass and I decided to rebel against it. But that is not the case. I don’t know what false promises Mr. Greengrass gave to his youngest daughter, or even the late Daphne Greengrass, but I can assure you,” he caught Astoria’s eye and stared her down, “I never had any interest in marrying either of them. Furthermore, being an only child, my parents are known to give me some leeway to make my own choices, particularly where my partners are concerned.”

“Misleading? Like your father mislead Mr. Greengrass into thinking that one of his daughters might be suitable for you?” Faulkoor questioned.

“What is your point, Faulkoor?” Draco asked. “I don’t know the things my father talks about when in conversation with his personal friends and colleagues. I doubt my father would make such a statement without knowledge of my interests. For years now I have made my desires for Miss Granger well known to my parents.”

“For years?”

Draco gave a slight shrug. “She’s a Muggle born, Mr. Faulkoor,” he commented. “As with most old Wizarding families, my own was of the belief that Muggle borns are… beneath us. So, when I had first met Miss Granger on the Hogwarts Express, my initial reaction was to try to bring her down. But she impressed me. Year after year, not only did she prove that she was the better student, she made me realize that Muggle borns aren’t, as some would believe, dirty. So, yes, I can honestly say that I have been smitten with Miss Granger for years, whether I knew it at the time or not. Furthermore, my interest in Miss Granger has been so great that I don’t even spare a glance at other witches, even those who might show some interest in me. Now, can we move on? I thought this trial was about my father and his alleged affairs.”

Faulkoor’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. For a moment, Hermione thought he was going to continue to badger Draco about her relationship with Draco. However, he surprised her as he began pacing, staring at Draco like a deranged monkey. “Yes. Your father’s affairs. Were you aware of these so-called after parties that he has hosted in the past?”

“Yes,” the Slytherin stated shortly, lifting a single brow.

“And are you aware that they were held within the Manor?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been to one?”

Draco smirked. “You’ll have to define the question, sir. See? This is another question that is misleading,” he said.

The man stopped. “How is it misleading? It’s a simple yes or no question. Have you ever been to one?”

“Again, you’ll have to elaborate more,” the blond said. “Are you asking if I have ever been invited to a party or if I have ever been? As my mother stated, and I’m sure you know from personal experience, the Manor is full of secret passages where a curious lad can find his way in places he does not belong. I can honestly say that I have never been invited to an after party. I wasn’t old enough.”

“But you have been to them?”

Draco leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’ve never participated. Father would have boxed my ears if he’d have caught me. But then, he’d do the same if he were to ever catch me sneaking into his wine cellar and I’ve done that as well. Name me one child who’s never gotten into mischief and I’d question the honesty of said statement.”

“So you’ve seen the parties then,” Faulkoor commented.

“So have you, from what I’ve heard,” the young man stated with a smirk. “The difference is the only enjoyment I received from it was what I managed in my own bedroom with my hand.”

Faulkoor scrunched his face in disgust as Draco smirked even more, amused by his own clever choice of words. Narcissa closed her eyes and shook her head as Hermione glanced at her in concern. There were a few chuckles throughout the courtroom which caused Narcissa to touch her forehead with her fingertips. “Stop encouraging him,” she hissed under her breath. Hermione caught the matron’s words and glanced at Draco worriedly.

“You’re mocking this court,” Faulkoor accused him.

“No,” Draco answered with a slight frown. “I’m mocking you. Pay attention, pea brain. This trial is about my father’s supposed relationship with a minor named Astoria Greengrass. It has nothing to do with whatever consensual parties with fellow adults he may have, nor whatever mischief I might get into in my own home.”

“So, you don’t think he should be held accountable for holding such disgusting displays of depravity?” Faulkoor asked.

Draco looked up at Dumbledore, who was watching him with his chin resting on his fingertips. “How was he charged for hosting such parties?” he asked curiously.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and replied, “He wasn’t, Mr. Malfoy.”

Annoyed, Draco glared at Faulkoor. “Then it’s none of anyone’s business!” he spat as he banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “This is all moot point and a way to try to steer us from the real issue. Now ask me what you need to ask me pertaining to the case or ask me to step down! This is ridiculous and a waste of time.”

Hermione nodded her agreement with him. It was a circus and no one was getting to the real issue.

Dumbledore looked at the blond youth over his spectacles for a moment and nodded. “Yes,” he spoke up. “I agree with Mr. Malfoy. Let us please stick to the subject at hand. Mr. Malfoy had already asked that Miss Granger be not a part of the questioning and it has been determined that the parties, while uncouth, are not illegal.” Picking up his wand, he waved it to levitate a photograph which floated across the room and landed gently in Draco’s hand. “Mr. Malfoy, can you please look at this photo and tell the courtroom what you see?”

Draco let his eyes roam over the colored photo and frowned. At first glance, it did look like a photo of his father snogging Astoria while in the throes of making love. And they were really going at it, too. So much so, in fact, that Draco could feel heat rushing to his cheeks. Then, he saw something. Tilting the picture a little, he cocked his head. He licked his lips before he spoke. “The cane,” he said, setting the picture down and looking back up at the headmaster. Dumbledore glanced at him curiously, so Draco expounded, “My father’s cane has a cobra’s head with emerald eyes. Unless I’m mistaken, this cane in this photograph has a boa’s head with sapphire eyes. My father hates sapphires, at least for his own personal wear. He wouldn’t tote something so hideous or keep it on his person. Furthermore, his cane houses his wand, the cobra doubles as his wand’s handle. As you know, Professor, a wizard takes pride in his wand. He wouldn’t have something as grotesque as a boa adorn his wand. He’s far too elegant for that.

“Furthermore,” he continued, picking the picture back up and studying it for a moment, “I don’t know where this guy shops, but I know where my father does. If these are his clothes that are discarded on the floor, they don’t belong to my father.”

Faulkoor huffed. “If your father was attempting to go incognito, he wouldn’t wear clothes that would distinguish him…”

“If my father…” Draco paused and looked up to Faulkoor. “Have you seen my father lately, Mr. Faulkoor? I would recommend having another eye exam. Perhaps investing in some spectacles.” His nose wrinkled. “How many wizards do you know who have the same shade of hair my father does or wears their hair as long? Most people don’t give a damn about where a wizard gets his clothes from unless he’s a person of importance. Given all that my father is, any reporter or, hell, fucking bimbo for that matter, would take note of my father and whatever clothes he was wearing.”

“Pray tell, Mr. Malfoy, what is wrong with the clothes worn by the man in the picture?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

Draco pointed to the pile of clothing, though he knew Dumbledore couldn’t see from where he was sitting. “Madam Malkins,” he answered. “These clothes were bought at Madam Malkins. I know this because I’ve seen them hanging in her shop when Blaise and I took a trip to Diagon Alley not too long ago. From what Mother has told me, Father hasn’t shopped in Madam Malkin’s since his Hogwarts years. He gets most of his clothing from Italy and has them tailored at home.”

Draco watched as Dumbledore took the photo back and looked down at it. “Anything else?” he asked the young Slytherin.

Draco folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “You’ve seen the way he dresses, Professor. Where are all the baubles and adornments my father likes to wear? If the man in that photograph is supposed to be my father, then where are they? And I don’t count that costume rubbish littered about the floor. My father wears real jewelry. And, lastly, that man has no Dark Mark.”

The elderly wizard looked down at the photograph again. He smiled. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I see your point,” he said. His eyes flick up to Draco. “Are there any more questions for the witness?” He waited a moment and said, “You may step down, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had seen the look in Dumbledore’s eyes and had a good idea of what he was thinking. He didn’t believe Lucius had done anything to Astoria. The Muggle born assumed he would give his verdict soon and they could all go home. As Draco slipped into his seat next to her, the Gryffindor leaned over a kissed his cheek. “You did great,” she whispered reassuringly with a smile.

He glanced at her and took her hands into his. “We’ll see,” he responded.

The girl looked up to see Dumbledore conversing quietly with a black-haired witch. When he straightened up, Hermione was sure he would dismiss the charges. Her eyes widened in mild surprise when he spoke, “The defense calls to the stand Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed as his father approached the chair. “Why the bloody hell did he not do this in the first place?” he muttered irately under his breath.

Narcissa hissed, “Watch your tongue, Draco.”

“Just calling it like I see it, Mother,” he whispered back as he reached for Hermione’s hand and held it.

Lucius had certainly seen better days. Draco never knew the story behind his father’s walking stick or legs, however, as the man sporadically limped to the stand with the help of an Auror on either side and sat down, Draco tucked the idea of asking his parents about it later. Of course, Draco was never one to really judge his father and what happened in the past. Merlin knew his own sins would be judged harshly when the time came, if it ever came.

Draco sat back as he listened and watched, keeping an eye mostly on his father.

“Lucius Malfoy, will you consent to taking Veritaserum for questioning?” Faulkoor asked as one of the Aurors standing next to Lucius produced the bottle.

Despite being in Azkaban, Lucius held his head up proudly as his eyes fell onto the bottle with distaste. “And let you question everything from my childhood to my services to the Dark Lord? I think not,” he growled. His eyes swiveled up to Dumbledore. “I won’t answer anything Faulkoor asks. However, Dumbledore, I will answer your questions truthfully without the need of Veritaserum.”

“And why is that?” the headmaster questioned, eying the former Death Eater.

Lucius, for his part, kept his eyes trained on the headmaster. “Because you won’t branch off needlessly and will stick to the point,” he replied.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers as he gazed down at the man. “Where were you on the night of the first of January of this year?”

The blond’s eyes narrowed as he thought of his answer. “If I recall correctly, the Aurors were still investing Daphne Greengrass’s death, and I believe I had been sent to Azkaban during that time.”

The old wizard glanced down at the parchment in front of him. “The investigation was still ongoing,” he confirmed, “however, you had been released merely two days before.”

The former Slytherin’s frown deepened as he thought harder. As memory dawned on him, he brightened momentarily before reality set in. Lucius had never been much to show his emotions or express himself in such a way, but in that moment, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and sighed. “Forgive me, Dumbledore,” he said apologetically. “I was in my office going over the finances of Malfoy estate. If you recall, I am somewhat under house arrest due to my involvement with the Dark Lord and his band of Death Eaters. Leaving the premises isn’t really something I can do without alerting the Aurors.”

“You were absolved of your crimes during the War,” Dumbledore said.

Lucius’s eyes met Dumbledore’s and hardened. “And yet the Ministry still saw fit to force me to hand over the estate to my son. I haven’t been allowed to purchase a new wand, I must let my son, my wife, or an Auror know when I do leave my home, and I have to have someone with me, meaning I cannot leave alone,” he hissed scathingly. “What’s more, I must inform the Aurors or my wife, if neither are with me, of my whereabouts. Honestly, Dumbledore, this entire trial is ridiculous! You want to know where I was New Year’s night? I was in my office. Do you want to know what I was doing in my office? I was checking the bank account records for my son so that he would have less to worry about when he came home for Easter with his lovely girlfriend.” The room grew silent as he spoke, then, sitting back in his chair, the Malfoy patron gave a signature Malfoy smirk as he added,” And if you want to know what I was doing after all of that, I left my office to seek out my wife so I could fuck her into our bed.”

Several gasps of shock were echoed throughout the chamber as people began murmuring amongst themselves at the scandalous words Lucius spoke. Eyes wide, Hermione glanced at the Malfoy matron in time to witness her bowing her head slightly and touching her forehead as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. Draco imitated his father’s smirk, chuckling a bit.

As Dumbledore banged the gavel and slowly restored order to the courtroom, Lucius allowed his mind to wander to that night. While what he said was true, it wasn’t all that had happened that night. If Dumbledore were to press him for further detail, or had he forced the blond to drink the Veritaserum, the entire room would have discovered the lecherous thoughts and fantasies Lucius had been having of a certain bushy haired Gryffindor that night. Oh, how he wished the girl had gone to the after party, or even stayed in his office with him and allow him to take advantage of her!

As the courtroom came to order and the questioning proceeded, Lucius snapped back to attention, careful to not give anything away that would potentially embarrass his family further. Or worse, cause said Gryffindor enough alarm to the point that she wouldn’t risk being alone with him again. And he so desperately wanted to be alone with her again.

(IV)(IV)

“Both your wife and son have indicated that you were attempting to help find a suitable partner for Miss Greengrass following her sister’s tragic death,” Dumbledore continued. “Would you mind elaborating on that a bit more for the court? Explain to us exactly the role you were playing and whom had given you that sort of permission to act as such as well as what you were attempting to do. In detail, please.”

The trial had been a long and drilling one. Watching his father, Draco could see how the questions were beginning to take a toll on the man. He was exhausted.

“I’ve known Eugene Greengrass since my years at Hogwarts,” the man began tiredly. “We had become close friends, earning the titles of Princes of Slytherin among our peers, much like my son and his friends have now. After graduation, I had moved on to join the Death Eaters at the urging of my father while Eugene remained quietly on the sidelines, careful not to get too close to the Dark Lord. In that respect, he was far more intelligent than I was at the time. Despite our newly acquired roles, we remained close friends, lasting even long after the Dark Lords downfall. When Daphne had been born, Eugene and I had toyed with the idea of betrothing her and Draco, thereby solidifying our friendship, however, when I had brought the idea to my wife, she blatantly refused, preferring instead that our son have a choice in who he wishes to marry when the time comes.”

He sighed. “Of course, the children grew up together, even including young Astoria in their play when she came along,” he continued. His lips pinched together. “There was this one time, when the children were toddlers, that I remember, when Eugene and I were watching them as their mothers had gone out for some holiday shopping.” His brow furrowed and he nodded. “Eugene and I had been more pissed than we responsibly should have and had jokingly mentioned the children marrying one day. Again, it was all in good sport, but…” Lucius’s eyes strayed to Draco and the two shared a frown. “That might be where Miss Greengrass got the idea that she would marry Draco one day,” the older Malfoy said thoughtfully.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the headmaster. “Eugene had great plans in store for Daphne, his prized and beloved child,” he explained. “In fact, the day before the Winter Ball, he had approached me seeking my council over a possible match between her and Mr. Blaise Zabini. From what he had told me, Mr. Zabini had asked her to accompany him to the ball and Eugene wanted to know if it was a smart match. See? I knew Nefertiti Zabini, Blaise’s mother, personally. Eugene did not. I knew he wished for my approval and he received it, as I’ve known Nefertiti and her son for many years, even though they played no part in either of the wars. I was actually there when Blaise had been born for I also knew his father, having been friends with him long before I had met Eugene.

“When Daphne was murdered while under my care, I felt solely responsible,” he said and he bowed his head. “I never wanted to see that light extinguished. She had been so beautiful, so sweet and kind and caring. Loyal to a fault to her friends and family.” Lucius closed his eyes. “She was truly a rare jewel and her passing is more heartbreaking than you could imagine.”

Hermione blinked in shock as she watched Lucius wipe away an unexpected tear from his eye. Had he really been heartbroken? She wouldn’t have used his terminology in describing Daphne, but, in reality, she didn’t truly know the girl.

Lucius looked back up at the professor and, to Hermione, it seemed he had aged ten years in that moment. “Eugene and his wife were going through hard times and I felt guilty for what happened. They had trusted me with their daughter’s life and I had failed them.” He sighed again, “So, knowing they would need to find a husband for Astoria and knowing that such a tragic death for their older daughter didn’t bode well for the couple, I offered my services to Eugene.”

“This is not a common practice among purebloods,” Dumbledore stated. He looked at the ragged aristocrat curiously. “Why would you offer your services?”

Lucius inclined his head in acceptance of that fact. “It isn’t common among purebloods,” he agreed. “However, Eugene and his wife were both grieving and I had recently discovered, from my son, that the young Miss Greengrass had become rather… provocative, which is also not a common practice among purebloods. I knew that, given her newly found sexuality, it would be difficult for Eugene to find her a suitable husband. I also knew the path she had lain out for herself due to her extracurricular activities and wished to prevent further shame being bestowed on an already grieving friend. It was a decision I should not have made, I’ve learned that now, however, at the time, I thought it were the best decision given the circumstances.”

“Did you offer your son to her?”

The blond shook his head once. “No. Draco was already in a relationship with Miss Granger and I did not wish to interfere with it, especially seeing how much in love he is with her,” he stated bluntly.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “And you willingly accept this match despite her lack of blood ‘purity’? Mr. Malfoy, not long ago you would have spat upon her blood and, in fact, have done so. What about her changed your opinion of her?” he asked.

Lucius allowed his eyes to fall upon the witch in question and she returned his stare, her face awash with curiosity of his answer. “I did not have the pleasure of getting to know Miss Granger when I had first met her back in 1992,” he said honestly, not taking his eyes off of her. “And it is true, my prejudice prevented me from doing as much.” He turned back to the headmaster. “However, Draco is my only son and the Dark Lord’s return has taught me a lesson I so desperately needed to learn. Purity means very little in the grand scheme of things. While there is some debate as to how Miss Granger will handle being amongst our kind, I do believe that she has been doing quite well so far. She truly is, as often repeated amongst my fellow witches and wizards, the brightest witch of her age. Furthermore, I love my son, Dumbledore. Though it pained me when I learned of his interest in the witch, it would pain me even more to be separated from him over differences in opinions. You don’t always get to choose whom you love or wish to spend the rest of your life with. When Draco came to me and informed me that, in no uncertain terms, he wanted to be with Miss Granger and she alone, I knew I needed to rethink my beliefs on blood purity for their sake and take the chance in getting to know Miss Granger for the witch she is rather than hating her for the Muggle upbringing she had.”

Hermione felt her heart swell at his words and she glanced at Draco. He offered her a small, kind smile and took her hand in his, kissing her knuckles before turning back to the proceedings. If either Hogwarts student could ever want for Malfoy Sr.’s approval, this was it. However, somewhere in the back of Hermione’s mind secretly questioned the man’s words. It was true that Voldemort had been alive not too long ago and Mr. Malfoy had been a bigot in the most extreme sense of the word. What had changed exactly? She kept her doubt in the back of her mind as she knew it was not needed at this juncture, but she made a mental note to explore the reasons at a later date.

Dumbledore glanced back at the parchment before him and picked up the photo next to it. “Draco has expressed the belief that this photo is fake,” he said. He handed the photo to an Auror who, in turn, brought it to Lucius to study. “It was taken the night I mentioned earlier, on the first of January of this year.”

“I’ve already given you my answer as to where I was that night,” Lucius responded, though he looked down at the photo. “This man isn’t me,” he said after a moment. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in some grimy Muggle hotel like what is pictured here.” He looked up at Dumbledore. “There are over a hundred rooms and alcoves scattered throughout my manor. Also, my wife rarely visits my office because she finds it intimidating. And, as already indicated by her own testimony, she has little to no problem with my sleeping with other women. So, why the bloody hell would I ever have need to leave my home just to have sex? And to have sex in such a god-awful hotel room?” He gave the photo back to the Auror and shuddered. “I have far more decency than that. Besides, Miss Greengrass is still underage. While I won’t deny having intercourse with women who were far younger than me, I’ve never gone to the point of pedophilia. I have far more self-respect.”

These were words that Hermione was certain any man could say to prevent someone from looking closer at them. But Lucius also had an alibi for that night in particular. Glancing at Narcissa, the Muggle-born heiress could easily deduce that he was telling the truth about that night.

“You said that Astoria had set herself down a certain path due to her extracurricular activities. Elaborate upon that, please,” Dumbledore stated. “What sort of path do you speak of?”

Lucius took a breath and nodded slightly. “She’s a pureblood, as is quite a few people in this room,” he said, waving a hand absently about the courtroom. “And her parents are well versed in the old customs of blood purity. Years ago, it was customary for a girl to await the night of her wedding to bestow her virginity onto her husband. However, if the girl were become sexually active before her wedding night, then, unless her future husband claims her for his own then and there, she was up for grabs by anyone. Not a single person would bat an eye at whom she shags and many girls were given over to prostitution by their own fathers. While I do not believe Eugene would ever do that to his own daughter, it is the direction she is heading, at least in my opinion because her list of potential suitors has greatly decreased. Even I was having a difficult time finding her a partner.”

“It is also known that some fathers will take advantage of their daughters’ lack of chastity, correct? Have you attempted to profit in such a way by offering your services?”

“Again, I am not a pedophile,” Lucius repeated. “If Astoria was of age, then, maybe, if I’m to be completely honest. However, she is not, and so I won’t touch her.”

“Have you ever been alone with Miss Greengrass?” Dumbledore asked.

Lucius’s memories fell upon that night and he nodded. “To discuss her situation and where we would go from there,” he said. “Also, I wanted to know her… what exactly she was expecting from her husband. Her answers would only serve to help me in finding the correct wizard.”

“And did they help?” Dumbledore asked.

Lucius gave a low, drawn out sigh. “No. She wanted Draco,” he admitted. “When I informed her about the improbability of that occurring, she became irate and refused to give me the information I required.”

“Why do you think Miss Greengrass targeted you in particular?” Dumbledore questioned. “If you were not with her that night, then why would she cast such false statements?”

The blond wizard tilted his head. “How am I to know what goes through her pretty little head? Like all spoiled, pureblood children, she’s used to getting her way. You’ll have to ask her, however, if you wish to know the answer.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore stated. “You may step down for now.”

As Lucius was escorted away from the podium by Aurors, Dumbledore straightened up. Faulkoor stood up again. “The prosecution calls to the stand Astoria Greengrass,” he announced.

All three Malfoys stared at the girl as she made her way to the podium. Hermione watched as well. She could see a mixture of emotions flashing through the girl’s face. Anger, fear, hatred… When Astoria glanced at Hermione, there was a look of sheer murder upon her face that, for a moment, Hermione felt a shiver down her spine.
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The Dare