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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story

Chapter List
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Sorry I've been MIA! I was severely ill last week, and am only now feeling up to writing again. Getting back to it.
Love you all. Thank you for reading. Thank you LightofEvolution for proofing and helping me with some funny lines!
~A.
(And, yes, there's a Supernatural joke in the first scene. )
Can you save
Can you save my
Can you save my heavy dirty soul?
"Heavydirtysoul" by Twenty One Pilots
Dean Thomas was exhausted. As he hung his cloak on the coat rack near the front door, he couldn't help but think it was useless. It was riddled in holes, burns, and the bottom had been clawed to pieces due to Abraxas Malfoy's wolf claws. Still, it would make a nice story in the morning, come time for Luna to—
"Hello, Dean."
"Jumping jellybeans!" Dean exclaimed, spinning on his spot to meet the amused, aloof smile of one Luna Lovegood; she held a tray with two teacups and a kettle. "Luna! You—I—how did you get in-"
"-You gave me a key, remember? In case of emergencies? Well, I was going to give you until the morning before I came over, but the wrackspurts were buzzing around my head so much I couldn't sleep. I thought, maybe if I made you some tea, they might leave me alone." She offered out the tray.
"You were worried about me," he said aloud, voicing her concerns. "Luna," Dean reached out, took the tray, and set it on the entryway table, "I'm fine."
"Harry owled me," she admitted. "Malfoy's trial - I imagine you're not as well as you put on. And with Diggle's funeral tomorrow-"
"-I'm fine," he insisted again. "Really. I just...wish Harry and Hermione wouldn't always ask so much of me…"
'What do you mean?"
Draco Malfoy paced his cell, scratching the white-blond stubble on his cheek. Three days without a shave, and all he could produce was stubble... it was pathetic. Almost as pathetic as not being able to wear formal robes to his own trial. He ran his nimble fingers through his unkempt hair and practiced his testimony in his head. The Wizengamot would ask him to confirm or deny his use of the Cruciatus Curse, to which he would tell the truth. There wasn't a point in lying about it; Greg Diggle, despite being the scum of the earth, had done one good thing. He'd saved Scorpius' life. For that, Draco couldn't bring himself to lie on record, no matter how much Potter begged.
Draco already refused three audiences with Hermione this week. It didn't matter how much he wanted to see her—he knew if he did before the trial, he'd crack like an egg. His love for her was that powerful. And if he wanted to be a shining beacon for what the Malfoy name should stand for, he couldn't afford to crack.
No, when they'd ask him the truth, he'd give it willingly.
Auror Jameson came by his cell around noon, carrying two thermoses of something hot and steaming. "I'm here to escort you to the Ministry," he said, waiting for the guard to unlock Draco's cell. When the barred door slid open, Jameson offered out one of the thermoses to Draco, an easygoing smile across his face. "Astoria's doing much better. They've discharged her from the hospital as of last night."
"That's great," Draco muttered, shaking his container. His magic-dampening cuffs clinked against the metal cylinder as he followed Jameson down the hall. "What's in this?"
"Just a bit of liquid luck."
Draco nearly dropped the container. "You're joking."
"You're right. It's soup, compliments of Auror Granger." Jameson beckoned him on with a wave of the hand, and together, they stopped inside one of the interrogation rooms. To Draco's surprise, his favorite tailored robes were waiting for him, laid neatly across the table.
"I thought prisoners weren't allowed anything but regulation fashion faux pas."
"Mmh, yes, but being an Auror still has it's privileges, I do believe," said a feminine voice from behind the door. As it swung shut, it revealed none other than the one person Draco had been trying to avoid since his arrest. Hermione Granger stood with her arms crossed, dressed in a knee length pencil skirt and blue blazer. She was the epitome of class and furiousness, causing Draco to involuntarily take a step back.
"Hermione," he tried to sound casual, "Fancy meeting you here."
"Do you mean because you've been avoiding me?" she asked, a breezy air to her tone. "Don't bother answering. Get dressed. Eat. Then we'll be on our way. I'm your second Auror escort."
"Because I'm such a dangerous criminal," Draco sneered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He turned his attention on Auror Jameson. "You heard the woman. I have to get dressed."
"And?"
"And - get out of here. I don't need you ogling me."
"Sorry, Auror Malfoy, but section twenty eight, sub-paragraph one of the Transfer of Azkaban Prisoners clearly states two Aurors must be present during transportations for trial-"
"-Oh, shut up." Draco offered out his shackles to Hermione. "How am I supposed to get dressed with these on my wrists?"
"You're a seemingly intelligent man," she turned her face away from him. "Figure it out."
"Is this what being married to you for the next eighty or ninety years is going to be like?" he quipped.
"Perhaps."
"I was joking."
"I wasn't." She turned her back to him completely now; the wall must have been extremely interesting. Oh, who was he kidding? She was utterly pissed. "Better get to stripping."
"Well, in that case, the show is this way," he teased, stepping away from her. When he turned around, Auror Jameson was nearly nose to nose with him, his wand tapping between the cuffs around Draco's wrists. "The show isn't for you, Jameson."
"I wouldn't want a show," said the younger Auror, unlocking the cuffs. They fell to the ground with a clank."You have two minutes to dress."
"What, no shower?"
"You're lucky you get the robes!" Hermione snapped, still with her back turned.
Draco decided it was better not to push his luck and began stripping immediately. Although, when he began to shimmy into his freshly folded underwear, he couldn't help but tease, "I wouldn't mind a strip search, Auror Granger."
"Buzz off, Draco."
"I'd be happy to provide you with one," Jameson replied, to which Draco tossed his prison regulation robes over the Auror's head.
"Touch me and I yell rape."
He finished dressing in silence, and it wasn't until the last button was done that Hermione turned around, giving him a once over. "Well, you clean up nice. - Sit down." Not wanting to poke the bear, Draco did as asked, taking a seat at the end of the interrogation table, where Auror Jameson replaced his magical shackles. Hermione strolled over, placed one of the thermoses in front of Draco, and leaned against the desk. "You must be hungry."
"Famished," he admitted.
Her brown eyes sparkled in a brilliant way that made him nervous. "There's soup in the thermos. Made it myself." She conjured a bowl and poured the soup. "I would have cooked you something worthwhile, but then I remembered you didn't want to see me. So this is as good as you're going to get."
"...Looks delicious," he tried, smiling faintly but also getting the feeling he would be in very deep trouble if he admitted he had no appetite pending his trial.
"Good. Depending on how this trial goes, this could very well be your last home cooked meal. I'd savor it if I were you."
Draco picked up the spoon provided and, despite being sick to his stomach, ladled out a noodle and chewed thoughtfully. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Thank me by eating it all," she told him, crossing her arms and staring off at nothing in particular. "We have ten minutes before we need to leave."
"Tuck in," said Auror Jameson, opening his thermos and slurping the contents down in an undignified fashion. "See? She didn't poison it."
"Please state your name for the Wizengamot."
"Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"Do you understand the charges presented to you in court?"
"I do."
"Very well," said Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Let's get started."
"Please state your name for the Wizengamot."
"That really doesn't seem necessary, does it?" Harry Potter said, glancing around at the unamused faces of fellow Ministry officials. "I was kidding… Harry Potter."
Draco felt a tightening in his throat - maybe it was the fact that Potter was about to go on record and put himself on the line for Draco—again. Maybe it was the underlying guilt he felt for it. Either way, the Malfoy man cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tension. He patted his chest, inhaled through his nose, but no matter what he did, the tightening wouldn't relent.
"Thank you, Auror Potter," said Kingsley, "Would you please, in your own words, tell us Auror Malfoy's involvement in the last week's proceedings leading up to the incidents at Malfoy Manor."
I'd hardly call them incidents, Draco thought, but kept his thoughts to himself. No need to make things worse.
Potter began to weave his web of events, from Draco's father's attack, to being summoned to Hogwarts, to Scorpius falling prey to convulsions. Each time, he gave a stunning amount of details. When he reached the discovery of Lindy's body, Draco averted his gaze to the floor. Hearing from Auror Jameson that Bolt hadn't made it out of the Manor alive at the hands of Abraxas, made Draco's insides squirm. No, he didn't appreciate being lied to one bit, but it still didn't mean he wished death upon her. After all, when he thought she was actually dead, he'd mourned her. Somehow, she'd been able to weasel her way into his heart like some sort of student he could bestow his knowledge to. A ward.
"And when Auror Malfoy came to you, what happened then?" asked Kingsley.
"We devised a plan - one to keep Auror Malfoy alive and still receive intel on Abraxas."
"Why didn't you share your plans with the Ministry?"
"We weren't sure who we could trust," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And with good reason. Lindy Bolt, an Auror directly underneath my authority, ended up faking her own death and turned an animagus spy for Abraxas. More so, amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight cult arrested following the attack on Malfoy Manor, two Ministry employees were discovered."
"Even so," said a pudgy witch from the Wizengamot, leaning her fluffy belly over the podium she sat behind, "you released a prison inmate - one," she glanced down to her notes, "Gregory Wallace Diggle, known for mass murder, conspiracy against the Ministry, the murder of Auror Ronald Weasley-the list goes on."
"Under my jurisdiction, I am allowed to transfer inmates as I see fit. Auror Malfoy acted as my transfer Auror."
"A loophole," said the witch, "but one the Ministry does not take lightly."
"Look, none of this matters," said Harry, "because this has all been cleared with Minister Shacklebolt. We're here today to discuss the accusation against Auror Malfoy and his alleged use of the Cruciatus Curse."
"Indeed," nodded the witch, turning her eyes on Draco, who paled at her glare. "According to witness testimony of prisoner Gregory Wallace Diggle, you, Draco Malfoy, broke into his cell and performed the Cruciatus Curse on him continuously until guards were summoned and forced to drag you away. Let the record show that while Mister Diggle is no longer able to speak for himself-"
"-Because he's dead," snapped a voice from behind Draco's chair. He recognized it instantly as Hermione's. "Let the record state that, as well."
"Yes, yes. But the deceased's testimony still stands. So," the Wizengamot witch looked to Draco, "how do you wish to plead, Mister Malfoy? Do you concede to these accusations? What have you to say for yourself?"
Draco opened his mouth to agree - but found his voice was unable to form the words. The tightness in his throat choked him until he stopped struggling to speak. Only then did it release.
What the actual fuck? Was this some sort of spell?
"But what if it didn't?" said Potter from his chair.
"Excuse me?" snapped the witch.
"What if Auror Diggle's testimony didn't stand anymore."
"Impossible. As Auror Diggle is, in fact, dead, as Auror Granger clearly found the need to interupt me to say-"
Once again, Hermione interjected. Draco could hear a chair scoot back, and he imagined her rising to stand. He didn't dare turn around, though, to see her sure to be wrath. "Yes, Greg Diggle is dead. But that does not mean it is out of the realm of possibility for him to speak on his own behalf."
"Are you suggesting a ghostly apparition?" asked the woman, skimming over his notes. "I see none of this in the reports…"
"Because it isn't. -May I, Minister?"
"I'll allow it." Shacklebolt nodded.
Footsteps clopped against the wooden slats of the floor until Hermione stood beside Draco, smiling confidently. Draco glanced over to Potter, who looked just as smug. What were they up to? And why the bloody Hell couldn't he speak?
"I'd like to call a character witness: Dean Thomas."
As if already cued up, Dean scrambled out of his chair and approached the witness bench next to Harry.
"You see, wise Wizengamot," said Hermione, "While Greg Diggle might be dead, we have the means to call upon him today, via something we all believed to be lost…until recently." Harry removed something from his pockets, wrapped in a handkerchief, and handed it off to Dean, who then unfolded the cloth to reveal -"The Resurrection Stone."
"Surely you don't meant to infer such a thing exists," gasped an elderly wizard from the back.
"Indeed, it does," said Kingsley, trailing his eyes around the room. "Its knowledge is classified, and we believed it to be lost, however...I've allowed a demonstration in my office earlier to prove its authenticity. It is the real thing."
Draco didn't like where this was going -not at all.
"If you'll look in the debriefings, you'll also see my connection to a rare magic known as Grey Magic," Hermione addressed the courts. "Its sole purpose is to amplify magic -it cannot create what does not already exist. What happens next will come as a shock -but I implore you to remember that under statute four hundred and twenty, paragraph 32a, added after the Great Fire of London in 1666, ghostly apparitions are given the same rights as living, corporal humans -including, but not limited to, witness testimony." With a small nod of the head, she encouraged Dean to do something Draco strong would have advised against, had his throat not closed up immediately.
Dean Thomas closed his eyes and touched the stone.
Hermione walked up to him, placed a hand over his, and closed her eyes as well.
For a moment, nothing happened, and then-hazed in a pale, blue glow was none other than Gregory Wallace Diggle.
"Hello," he said cheerily, waving his hand about the courtroom.
Draco nearly fainted.
The gruffy, pudgy witch from the Wizengamot stared with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Impossible."
"Ah, I believe the word you're looking for is 'implausible', darling, but I can see how the two might get jumbled together," Diggle quipped, his translucent form pacing idly around the courtroom. He gave a pleasant grin to Dean, who waved in response. "I, Gregory Wallace Diggle, would like to retract my statement in regards to the allegations against Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"Y-You what?" gasped the witch. "Why?"
"Easy, darling. I lied." Diggle flashed his ghostly white teeth and rubbed his hands together. No, Draco thought, opening his mouth to rebuttal, but nothing came out. Diggle approached the Wizengamot. "I instigated the fight. Auror Malfoy was trying to escort me out, and I attacked him. He was defending himself when the guards came."
"What reason would you have to lie?" asked Potter with a smug tone -so smug it made Draco want to ring his neck.
"Simple. I despise the man."
"And why on Earth should we take your word now, given that you admit you lied before?" asked the pudgy witch, fascinated by Diggle.
"Indeed! Why would you?" he said. "But in that case, why would you take my testimony before, if you knew me to be a liar? Which is the truth? Which is a lie? Can you really trust me?" He shrugged. "A conundrum, for sure. If you take my testimony while I'm alive but not while I'm dead, you violate your own regulations. But can you trust my word as a dead man, seeing as how I conned every one of you while alive? Really, the only choice you have is to throw out my testimonies all together, living or dead."
Minister Shacklebolt cleared his throat, addressing the courtroom. "Auror Malfoy has proven himself to be a valuable asset to the Ministry of Magic. Without his bravery, the events at Malfoy Manor might not have ended in our favor…" he paused, considerate. "Auror Malfoy, do you have any reason to argue against Mister Diggle's testimony here today?" Once again, Draco's throat tightened, rendering him speechless. One glance at Hermione told him he best keep his mouth shut anyway, so he shook his head. The corners of her lips turned up in satisfaction. Kingsley continued, "Very well. We, at the Ministry, respect all human souls, living or dead, and we hold ourselves in high regard for keeping to regulations… we have no choice but to accept Mister Diggle's testimony and his retraction of his previous statement." He slammed his gavel down. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, your case is dismissed. You are free to go; your wand will be reinstated to you upon departure. Please see Helen in wizarding resources."
A weight the size of a hippogriff was released off of Draco's shoulders. He stared forward, slackjawed, completely baffled by the turn of events.
He was free.
FREE.
The Wizengamot began to file out, as if they hadn't just held Draco's life in their hands like it was puddy. When the room was empty, save for Hermione, Harry, Dean, and a transparent Diggle, Draco finally gave a sigh of relief.
"Okay, I'm just going to go ahead and say it -that was brilliant," Dean said to the group, who wore grins so prominent they could have been mistaken for being under the effects of a love potion. It was Harry who spoke next, strolling up to Draco with his hands in his pockets.
"Did you really think we'd let you stubbornly sacrifice your life for an idiotic mistake?" He waved his hand and released Draco from the cuffs around his wrists. "How was your soup, Malfoy?"
Soup?
"Quit teasing him, Harry," said Dean.
"Oh, I think we should keep him just like this," Hermione chimed in, giving a smirk worthy of a Malfoy. "He's much more handsome when he can't speak."
"I dunno about all that," Harry laughed as Draco rubbed his sore wrists. "But he certainly does make a nice accessory to any room, doesn't he? Can't even say the portraits at Hogwarts are as quiet. -Harry Potter."
It was as if a hand released Draco's windpipes, and he inhaled a deep, suffocating breath. His vocal chords tingled as he muttered, "A silencing soup? You've got to be kidding me…" He glared at the lot. "And why the bloody Hell did the phrase have to be Harry fucking Potter?"
"Because who else better to shut you up than your old rival? You're welcome."
"Hmph."
"Is it so wrong to expect a thank you? We did it because, whether you like it or not, we care about you, Malfoy."
"For the record, I never expected a thank you," Diggle quirked an amused eyebrow. "But I'll take one, if you're handing them out."
Draco gave a bitter smirk. "Not on your life, Diggle. -Oh, wait. Too soon?" He arose from his chair, legs shaking. He couldn't believe it… he was free. It never occurred to him he might make it out of this without returning to his prison cell. And, though his pride was in rubble, his name was cleared. And, technically, he never lied. Not once. He guessed, all in all, he could stomach that.
"Th... thank you. All of you." He let his eyes roam over from Harry, to Dean, even to Diggle, and, finally, to Hermione. "Thank you."
She released Dean's hand, and Diggle disappeared from view, though no doubt still there in front of Dean. Hermione made her way across the room as Draco stepped around Potter. There was a moment of awkward silence before Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco in a fierce hug. "I have to go pick up Scorpius from Ginny." She swiped at a few angry tears from her cheeks, releasing him. Draco kept his grip firm around her, not wanting to let her go.
"Hermione-"
But she broke free of his grasp, kissed his cheek, and turned toward the door.
When it closed behind her, Dean let out a snigger under his breath. It was silenced by Draco's daunting glare. "Something funny to you, Thomas?"
"Er… um… It's just...Greg said you were in the dog house, now."
"Yeah? Tell him I said to piss off." He smacked the stone out of Dean's hand and let it fall to the floor.
Shit. He really was in the dog house, though, wasn't he?
Next chapter promises to be extra long, tying everything together. How will Draco make it up to Hermione? Do you think she can stay mad for long? What about Jamestoria!? And Victoria Crabbe!? OMG SO MANY THINGS TO COVER... hope you're ready. :)
See you the next, and last, chapter of this epic journey. (Don't worry, there will be HTTYA3.)
~A.
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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties