Chapter Text
One’s own demise.
Monday. June 8th, 1998
“Draco Lucius Malfoy is hereby sentenced to five years in Azkaban.” Kingsley Shacklebolt adjusted the glasses on his nose and looked down at Draco as he continued with his sentencing. “Once you are released, you will have no magic restrictions and will be allowed to migrate back into Wizarding society. I cannot promise that the population will have you, but I will not restrict you from any chances of having a career or doing better within this new society.” Draco was holding his breath. He looked over at his mother to his right and saw nothing but hurt in her wet eyes. He let his breath out finally, but it didn't help the twisting feeling in his gut. He looked back up at Kingsley who continued, “You will be responsible for paying 1 million galleons to the War Compensation Fund. During your time in Azkaban, you will be allowed no visitors other than your solicitor.” He heard his mother gasp again; he couldn't look at her anymore.
Draco had been sitting in this hard metal chair, locked up by the wrists and ankles for at least 3 hours, and now that he's gotten his punishment, he would like to go to his cell and get this over with. The semi-circular room with tiered seating left no space for breathing when the entire Wizengamot were all looking down upon him like he was the spawn of the Dark Lord himself. Kingsley was centered on a high podium directly in front of Draco, standing tall as the new Minister of Magic in his fresh black robes, and the Wizengamot members sat in their plum-coloured robes on his left and right side.
Surprisingly, his trial was a bit more exciting than what Draco was expecting. He wasn’t expecting life in Azkaban since he didn’t technically kill Dumbledore or anyone for that matter, but he had hurt quite a few people trying to complete the tasks Voldemort gave him back before the start of sixth year, and he was the reason the Death Eaters had managed to get into Hogwarts.
Draco also wasn’t expecting two out of three of the Golden Trio to speak on his behalf, but he watched as Harry Potter himself stood at the podium. He was wearing a green sweater vest and a white button-up shirt underneath. He still had his signature round glasses on, but something did look a little different about him, like he hadn't slept in days even though the war was over. He spoke about Draco being young and how he was forced into the choices he had to make, and let’s not forget he was also tortured by the hands of the Dark Lord. Thanks for that reminder, Potter. Harry had even spoken at his mother’s trial, stating that she helped end the war by declaring that Potter was not breathing when the Dark Lord thought he had killed him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught someone walking in late through the left entrance of the room; Draco stopped listening to Harry the moment he saw her. Hermione Granger, the Golden Girl herself. She walked with her head down; he could see her mouth say “Sorry” to the council members as she stepped onto the benches, having to scoot down to get close to the podium. She was wearing a simple grey fitted dress that went to her calves, with half-sleeves, black buttons up the front, and a thin black belt wrapped around her midsection. Her hair was curly but much more tame than he recalled it being during school. She seemed paler than before, but it could have been the lighting in the room. She was dressed professionally, like she intended to be there, but her brown eyes were examining the room like she was trying to plan her next great escape.
Hermione stood as Harry finished his testimony and took his seat. She looked tall now, like she had no fears and wasn't just planning her getaway two minutes ago. She spoke about the same things Potter spoke of, but she also reminded them that he did not give their identities away when they had been captured and dragged to Malfoy Manor. That was when Draco briefly blacked out. Anytime that awful day in the drawing room is brought up, he is immediately taken back to that room and all he can hear are her screams; all he can see is her face in pain and Bellatrix carving that word into her arm. She had looked up at him for a moment when she was lying on that floor, pleading with her eyes. He froze when their eyes met before dropping them to his feet, leaving her helpless and alone in that moment of terror.
Draco lifted his head back up just as she was stepping down from the podium and off of the benches. She looked up and met his eyes; this time he did not look to the floor but directly into the brown abyss. He’s glad she was able to get away. He’s not sure he could have lived with the regret of her dying by the hands of his aunt, in his home, while he stood by doing nothing. He’s barely surviving with the regrets he holds now. She blinks like she just realized she was staring at him and turns away to walk out of the courtroom. Once again the room was stiff and airless until Kingsley started giving his verdict.
The Auror to his right that was standing beside his solicitor starts unlocking the chains on his chair so Draco can stand. They lock his hands behind his back with magic-concealing chains and start leading him from the room. He looks to his mother. They don’t allow him a last hug, but she still yells to him, “I will write to you, Draco! Stay strong, my Dragon!” He is pushed to the door on the right of the room. They walk him through a hallway with cells on both sides and deposit him into one of the smaller cells with a stone bench against one wall. Draco takes a seat and waits to be transported to Azkaban so he can suffer in silence.
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Narcissa had her own sentencing earlier this morning. They hadn’t seen each other since they were taken from the Manor by the Auror Department. They had granted both of them time to see each other after her trial and before his. The Wizengamot had given Narcissa Malfoy five years of house arrest and dues owed of five million galleons for the acts that she and her husband were complicit in during the war. She had bawled and held him for a brief time before he was cuffed and led to his demise. He is just glad she won't have to deal with the Dementors and the walls that have driven many men crazy throughout the years.
Lucius Malfoy, to no one's surprise, was sentenced to life in Azkaban. He was apparently granted visitors, although they would have to be approved. Draco's not sure how long his father will last in Azkaban; he’s already frail after everything the Dark Lord has done to him. He had seen Lucius put through hours of the Cruciatus Curse, Voldemort always making sure it was a family event when one of the Malfoys was being punished. Draco doesn't much care for his father anymore, but he knows this will affect his mother, and that's what concerns him most.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and his mother went back to Malfoy Manor to see what ruins were left of their family home since the Death Eaters and Voldemort were no longer walking the halls and infecting the walls. The Manor still stood—maybe not considered full ruins—but one could feel the way the bones of the Manor were damaged with all the dark magic that was woven into its walls. They had spent the month after the Battle fixing up the Manor the best they could with the last few house-elves they had left. The East and West Wings of the Manor were where they focused: the East Wing holding his bedroom and guest rooms, and the West Wing holding his parents’ rooms. It helped that neither could sleep, so they were able to get quite a bit done before the raid.
On June 1st, 1998, the Ministry’s Auror Department stormed the Manor grounds and took both Draco and Narcissa to the stone cells under the Ministry to await both of their trials. They were still in their normal attire: Draco in his loosened dress shirt, casual black pants, and dragon-hide boots; Narcissa in her daily dark green witch's robes, still looking elegant even with all the darkness surrounding her.
Draco hadn't noticed at first, but his father was tucked away on one of the stone benches in the cell across from his own. They had placed Narcissa in her own cell within the women's cells down the way from the men's, split by a closed door. At least he would be able to see when they took her for her trial, if they took her first. It was maybe a day or two after he arrived that they pulled Lucius from his cell for his trial. Draco had tried to get Lucius' attention but had realized after a few tries that they had cast a spell not allowing any sounds to be sent from cell to cell.
Draco didn't necessarily want to talk to his father, but he could at least acknowledge that his only son and heir was also trapped in a cell because of reasons he would think his father would feel responsible for, but there was no acknowledgment. Lucius had walked along the hallway with his head down, hands chained behind his back, and did not even look toward Draco once. Draco did not see him again after he was taken through the courtroom doorway.
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It felt like an eternity before the door splitting the men’s and women's cells had been opened. Draco was lying down on the stone seating; he had his eyes closed when he heard the door open. He pulled himself up a bit too fast and had fallen quickly to the ground, and that’s how his mother had seen him as she walked by. There was a female Auror walking behind his mother, leading her in the direction of the courtroom. Draco had never seen his mother like this. She was frail, like she hadn't eaten in days, and dirt was covering her face as if they also made her sleep on stone covered in dirt and grime. Is this what he looked like?
It must have been because when his mother caught his eyes, he could see the gasp she made although he could not hear it. Draco was not expecting to be taken after his mother, but some time later, an Auror had opened up his cell and dragged him to a separate room where he had been able to see his mother for that brief time before being pulled off to his own trial.