A/N: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS. Compliant with all except Epilogue. Harry Potter is not mine.

Chapter Forty-Two – Amateur Dramatics

“If all the evidence has been presented,” Kingsley said, shuffling through his papers, “then the Wizengamot is ready to give a verdict.”

Ginny clutched her hands together in her lap. Her heart felt as though it were about to rattle right out of her ribcage, it was beating so quickly, and she could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the length of her spine. Draco, a few yards away, was breathing heavily, blinking back tears. This was it – the moment of truth. The moment that would irrevocably change both their lives.

“All those who find Draco Malfoy guilty of all charges,” Kingsley cried.

They didn’t hesitate. Every single witch and wizard in the Wizengamot raised his hand.

“No!” Ginny shrieked, pushing back her chair. Rage rose in her like a lethal tide. “You can’t!”

“We just did, Miss Weasley,” Kingsley said. “Our decision has been made, and it is final. Draco Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban, with the chance for parole in eighty years. May God have mercy on your soul.”

“You can’t!” she screamed again, running for Draco. She didn’t know why; maybe she thought she could spirit him away, away from the mess and start over. He strained against his bonds, reaching for her, but two hulking, faceless guards blocked the way. They were going to take him from her.

“Ginny!” he cried, his face twisted in fear. “Don’t let them do this!”

“Draco! Draco!”

Ginny started awake at the sound of her own voice, drenched with sweat, her bed sheets tangled around her body. On seeing she was in her darkened flat, alone, she gave a relieved gasp and sank back into her pillow, trembling uncontrollably. She looked at her alarm clock – it was just past four in the morning. She had been asleep for less than an hour, and she doubted she would be able to sleep another wink. Not if it would bring her nightmares like the one she’d just had.

Still shaking, she crept out of bed and, grabbing her dressing gown, tiptoed into her tiny kitchen. Whenever she had been upset her mother always made her a cuppa, so that was what Ginny did now. Performing the mindless task of brewing tea, she reasoned, would steady her, and calming herself down meant she could begin preparing for the next day of the trial.

After the image of Colin’s body had appeared in the courtroom the day before, there had been a few moments where Ginny truly believed Draco would go to Azkaban, despite anything she could do or say. The evidence lay literally before them, incontrovertible and completely undeniable. But then her improvised legal training from Hermione kicked in, and Ginny was able to keep a level head.

“All this proves is that Narcissa Malfoy’s wand is the murder weapon,” she had argued. “In Madam Sanderson’s own words, it does not tell us who exactly killed Colin Creevey.”

Harper, of course, had pushed the theory Ginny had known he would: he argued that it was highly unlikely that Narcissa’s wand had done much passing between hands in the midst of a heated battle. “Besides,” he had said, “Mrs Malfoy returned to her home after the battle with her wand intact, so how else would she have gotten it back? The odds are that it was handed to her directly – by her own son, after he used it to slay one of his classmates in cold blood.”

The rest of the court session was not nearly as intense as it had begun. Ginny presented receipts of purchase from Borgin and Burke’s that showed that Draco had not purchased the Hand of Glory and the opal necklace he had used during his sixth year. Instead, the receipts showed that Lucius had bought them, for purposes unknown. Lucius curled his lip at her when she revealed this bit of information, but remained quiet. Proving that Draco had not been the owner of the cursed objects, after all, meant that he could not be accused of possessing them in the legal sense, only that he had access to them. After seeing the mostly convinced look on Kingsley’s face, Ginny was reasonably confident that that charge would be dismissed.

Another charge that she was sure was taken care of was the charge of conspiracy, which was, she had discovered through her research, perfectly ridiculous to begin with. Draco had not been a willing participant in any sort of planning – a key factor that needed to be proven in conspiracy cases – instead doing what he was told under extreme duress. ‘Extreme duress’, it seemed, was the theme of the day, but Hermione had told her that most of the charges against Draco could be defended in such a way. He hadn’t actually wanted to do any of the things he had done, and that fact above all others was the one that saw Ginny through. It covered some of the remaining charges: endangering minors when he’d let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and the Imperius Curse he had placed on Madam Rosmerta to get the necklace to Katie Bell.

Ginny took her tea to her small table and held the steaming cup between her hands, inhaling the warm peppermint fumes. In a few hours, it would be Harper’s turn to present evidence to the Wizengamot, and it went without saying that Ginny was worried about what would happen. The list he had given to her and the Wizengamot listed Padma Patil, Dennis Creevey, Katie Bell, and Harry as key witnesses, along with Yaxley’s memory of Colin’s death. Lestrange’s memory had been removed from the record, as he had been sent back to Azkaban and was now considered too imbalanced to testify.

But it was evidence designed to pack an emotional punch. Ginny, with her store receipts, couldn’t hope to top that.

The one omission from the list, however, confused her. Ron’s name, despite the fact that one of the charges concerned his poisoning, was nowhere to be found on any of the documents Ginny had received from the prosecution or the Wizengamot. She wondered what that meant, and she hadn’t had the chance to ask Ron himself about it yet.

Even after she had finished her cup of tea, Ginny’s hands still shook from the intense adrenaline rush her dream had given her. She was filled with restless, angry energy that crawled under her skin as though her limbs had fallen asleep, and merely sitting at her table wasn’t doing anything to make it go away. She looked at the clock on the wall. Four-thirty. It was dark yet, but dawn was fast approaching. She knew exactly how she could kill some time, until the next ordeal of court sessions later in the morning.

At the very end of Diagon Alley – for anyone who ever made it all the way to the end – was a public park where Ginny would sometimes take her broom and do laps, to clear her head and get some fresh air. Most Wizarding folk in England preferred to go to the park outside Hogsmeade, which meant that the small London heath was largely unpopulated at any given point in the day. It made it perfect for her, for when she just wanted to be alone.

But when Ginny stepped onto Sinclair Heath a half-hour later, dressed snugly against the pre-dawn chill with her Cleansweep Eleven over one shoulder, she discovered she was not alone after all. A small figure drifted lazily above her on a broomstick, making haphazard patterns against the night sky. He or she must have seen her, for the figure stopped at once and made its way towards her. Ginny stepped farther out onto the heath, wondering who it was.

She recognized Harry when he was still some distance away, for the moonlight caught briefly on his round National Health glasses while he was in the air. He descended gracefully, and walked towards her.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he said in greeting. He blew on his hands to warm them.

“You?” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you had your lofty ideals and holier-than-thou attitude to keep you warm at night. Not to mention Romilda Vane.”

Harry scowled at her and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair – a gesture that had driven her mad when she was twelve. “Believe it or not, I do have a heart,” he said testily. “I know I’ve been a bit petty these past few weeks—”

Ginny snorted.

“You have to see it from my perspective,” he insisted. “Draco Malfoy is a bad egg. He was when I first met him fifteen years ago, and he was the last time I saw him, at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“It’s been eight years,” Ginny said. “People change, Harry.”

“There are certain things you can forgive, and others you can’t ever forget. Malfoy has done far too much for me to simply forget. You should know that, better than anyone.”

“That wasn’t him, that was Lucius,” she hissed, bristling with indignation. “And you – you testified eight years ago and got Lucius and Narcissa off. Why are you changing your mind now?”

“I did it for her,” Harry said flatly. “She helped me by lying to Tom Riddle. And now she’s dead.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, but he went on. “You know how this looks, of course, don’t you? You, an upstanding, decorated Auror leaving behind career and family allegiances – dropping everything you know – to defend a man accused of murder and universally hated by the public. You’ve been bewitched by him.”

She laughed hollowly. “I’m just being a foolish little girl again, right?” she said. “Ickle Baby Ginny, who needs looking after.”

He stepped closer, hands spread. “Let him go, Gin-bug,” he said gently. Harry hadn’t called her that in years. She hated the way it sounded now. “I’ll give you back your job in the Auror department. Everything will go back the way it was.”

Safe, shy Ginny – the Ginny she had been for too many years to count – was tempted by the offer. Too tempted. She was good at her job – why give that up? The pay was decent; she might manage to get a raise next year. Her co-workers were pleasant; they didn’t give her any trouble. Harry had bothered her before, but he had a new partner now; Romilda would keep him from badgering her.

But then, as though she were listening to a Muggle recording, Ginny could hear what she had said to Draco in his hospital room: You’re mine – and I won’t let anyone else have you.

All the protectiveness and love she felt for him came rushing back, smothering the protests of old Ginny. Taking the safe route would be taking a step backwards, destroying the little progress she had already made on restarting her life and taking charge of her own destiny. And what would that life be like without someone to share it with? Harry could offer her anything in the world – but it meant nothing if Draco weren’t there with her.

She shook her head at him. “That was where we differed most, Harry,” she said. “I can see how people change, and accept those changes. I can forgive people for even the worst crimes if they are sincerely sorry and willing to better themselves. You never could give anyone a second chance.”

He gave her an odd half-smile. “You used to be so stubborn,” he said. “Reckon I forgot that.”

“If you’re quite done, you should leave,” she said without rancour. “We’re on opposite sides of a criminal trial, we shouldn’t be talking to each other.”

He nodded in agreement. “Good luck,” he said, and he strolled off into the darkness.

Ginny sighed before taking to the skies. Most people changed, but Harry hadn’t, and she wasn’t so sure he ever would. But he was someone else’s problem now. Not hers. So Ginny went on with her flight and didn’t waste another thought on him.

Hours later, dressed in her best and file in tow, Ginny took her seat once again at the defence table in their courtroom. Harper, looking infinitely assured, was already at the prosecution’s table, enjoying a cup of tea. Ginny frowned at him and looked away, arranging the papers she needed to cross-examine the witnesses.

The stands were slightly fuller this time: as Percy had promised, he and her father were present, as was Ron. Molly and George sat with them and so did Bill, sans Victoire. A few rows behind them, though, sat an uncomfortable Katie Bell, with Oliver Wood’s arm draped around her shoulders. He was whispering something into her ear, though Ginny couldn’t imagine what. Padma and Parvati Patil sat together on the other side of the aisle, looking very serious and solemn. On catching Ginny’s eye, Parvati stuck her nose in the air and looked away. Dennis Creevey, looking remarkably mature and grownup, was there with his father and mother, whose face was blotchy and red from crying. Ginny was grateful she hadn’t been around the day before, when her son’s corpse had appeared before them all. As yesterday, Lucius was present, and likewise John. Simon was missing, though Ginny reasoned that he must have been forced to go into work, it being a weekday.

Either that, or he hadn’t wanted to face his father again. Ginny couldn’t blame him for that.

And on the floor, in front of the Wizengamot’s stands, sat an odd-looking contraption that had a projector lens on one end – the Visual-Eyes. Waiting for Yaxley to show his memories of that terrible night to the court.

The session began minus the tumult and noise of the first one, for which Ginny was grateful. Draco was simply escorted into the courtroom and to his chair with little fanfare, while the Wizengamot called roll and Kingsley outlined the day’s schedule. Ginny paid it little attention – until Kingsley paused, frowning down at a scroll of parchment before him.

“It has come to the attention of the Wizengamot,” he began slowly, “that one of the charges against Mr Malfoy has been dropped.”

Ginny and Draco both looked up, startled. What in the world…?

“The following charge has been stricken from the record,” Kingsley announced. “Let it be known that Draco Malfoy is no longer being held responsible for the attempted murder of Ronald B. Weasley. The purported victim has dropped his case against the defendant and does not seek outside settlement in the matter.”

Ginny gaped openly at Ron, seated in the stands. His face had gone a brilliant shade of red at having so much attention diverted towards him, and he fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. Molly, beside him, gasped aloud and looked at him, at which Ron bent over and started whispering something in her ear. Ginny itched to know what he was telling her.

This was incredible. More than incredible. They were down to eight charges.

Then, before she knew it, Harper had risen to his feet and called Padma Patil to the stand.

Padma stood slowly, and Ginny saw Parvati squeeze her hand before she left her sister’s side. Silently, she descended the stairs to the main floor, and took the seat Lucius and Simon had occupied the day before.

“Miss Patil,” Harper said gently. “Please describe for the court what happened to you the evening of the last battle at Hogwarts.”

Padma heaved a sigh, and Ginny frowned at once. Surely the Wizengamot could see that they were in for a carefully orchestrated spectacle? “There was so much confusion that night,” Padma began. “My sister and I tried to stay together, but at some point we were separated when a Death Eater blew up a wall near us. I was looking for her when I – when I ran into Draco Malfoy.”

“Then what happened, Miss Patil?” Harper practically crooned.

Padma looked away, seeming to fight back tears. “He pointed his wand at me, when he saw who I was,” she went on. “I didn’t know what to do. Everyone knew he was involved with the Death Eaters and probably was one himself. I was so scared, I just stared at him for a minute.”

A movement out of the corner of Ginny’s eye caught her attention, and she turned. It was Draco, and he looked like he was going to be sick. He’d gone deathly pale, and was resting his cheek against the flat surface of his chair, away from Padma and the probing eyes of the Wizengamot.

“I asked him to let me by,” Padma said. “I begged him to let me pass to look for my sister. He just looked at me for a minute, and then he – he hexed me.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows mildly, even as her heart leapt with hope. This count of alleged assault was all over a bloody hex? Merlin, all of her brothers – Percy included – would have been sent to Azkaban ages ago if that was all it took.

Harper shook his head. “Has this hex left any lasting damage?”

Padma nodded. “I still have nightmares where I see him pointing his wand at me. It’s cost me years of Dreamless Sleeping Draughts and therapy.”

Harper asked a few more follow up questions before letting Ginny cross-examine her, and Ginny smiled at Padma before approaching. She’d never liked the Patil twins; their airheaded gossip and single-minded obsession with makeup and boys had driven her mad when they were in Hogwarts. Who would’ve guessed that Lavender Brown would eventually grow out of it, but her best friends would not?

Ginny was direct. “What hex did Draco Malfoy cast on you?”

Padma faltered, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “It was one I’d never heard of before.”

“Can you describe what you felt?”

“It felt like – like I was being pierced with little needles. All over my body.”

Padma gave a theatrical shudder.

“The Hornet’s Next Hex,” Ginny said easily. “And how long did the feeling last?”

“Long enough,” Padma said. Her façade was starting to crack.

“For the sake of the court, how long?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Chief Warlock, the witness is—”

“It was a few seconds! A few seconds.”

“Had you ever been hexed before that night?”

“Yes.”

“In what situation?”

“For Dark Arts classes.”

“And you were hexed long enough to feel them before you deflected them?”

“Yes.”

“Give an example of a hex you felt in class.”

“The Stinging Hex.”

“The Stinging Hex?” Ginny’s mind raced through the pages of research in her file. “But according to the Barton scale, that one is far more painful than the Hornet’s Nest. Was the person who gave you the Stinging Hex charged with a crime as well?”

“No,” was Padma’s sullen reply.

Ginny spun and looked at Kingsley. “Chief Warlock, this is a waste of the Wizengamot’s time,” she declared. “This witness was obviously schooled by Counsellor Harper to answer in a particular manner and has blown events out of proportion—”

“Believe me, Weasley, I agree,” Kingsley interjected, even dropping protocol. “Miss Patil, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Padma spluttered wordlessly for a moment, before she burst out angrily, pointing at Draco, “He’s a bad person! It’s not fair that he got away with nothing after that night! Even if he didn’t seriously hurt me – even if he didn’t do to me what he did to Katie Bell, or Colin Creevey – I still remember what happened, and I know what side he was on.” She stopped abruptly, breathing heavily, and Ginny suspected that the tears that came to her eyes now were genuine.

“I have nightmares about what went on,” Padma whispered. “That part was true.”

Kingsley winced slightly, but tapped his gavel against his desk. “Counsellor Harper, your witness is unreliable and the charge has been dismissed. Miss Patil, you may leave the stand.”

Padma stood at once, glaring furiously at Ginny, and flounced back to her seat with her sister. Draco watched her go with an odd look on his face – Ginny thought it might be pity. Or sympathy. Despite his missing memories, did he have nightmares about that night too?

After Padma was Dennis Creevey, who talked about his brother and how his death had affected their family. Unlike Padma, if Dennis had received any coaching on how to act on the stand it wasn’t as obvious. Even Ginny, who should have been plotting ways to twist his words in her favour, found herself aching with grief at Dennis’s testimony. Colin had been one of her best friends. She should have been hunting down who killed him, not defending the man everyone thought had done it. But in her cross-examination, she revealed that Dennis had not been there when Colin died, and only saw his body afterwards when Oliver Wood brought it into the Great Hall. He had actually not witnessed anything involved with Draco’s charges, and Ginny successfully – she thought – rendered him harmless as a witness.

No, it was Katie Bell’s testimony that truly stopped her in her tracks. When Kingsley called for her to come to the stand, Ginny had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Padma had merely been hexed, but Katie had been in contact with a Class A cursed object and missed six months of school because of it. There were even rumours that the curse was the reason why she hadn’t gone out for professional Quidditch after she graduated from Hogwarts.

Harper’s questioning was what Ginny had expected; he asked what had happened, and Katie calmly described going into the girls’ loo at the Three Broomsticks and encountering Madam Rosmerta. Up in the stands, Ginny saw Harry making a pained face, and she remembered that he had been there to experience the entire thing: he had seen Katie’s body levitating in the air when her finger brushed the necklace. Unlike Padma and Dennis, Katie was even-handed and forthright in her testimony, and Ginny recalled from their Hogwarts days that she had always been logical, never one prone to drama or exaggeration like so many other girls they went to school with.

Harper almost looked frustrated as he ran through his list of questions. Ginny hoped it was because his coaching hadn’t taken root in at least one of his witnesses.

By the time he had finished, they had been taken through the entire span of events: from Katie’s landing in St. Mungo’s until the day she woke up, her rehabilitation and convalescence until she was discharged and allowed to return to school. The necklace had left little permanent damage, but Ginny’s suspicions had been correct: the curse had dulled Katie’s physical reflexes, and though she had tried out for the Arrows, she wasn’t good enough to go professional anymore.

Hermione had warned her about this witness. “The facts are black and white in her case, unfortunately,” she had said as they sat in the library. “Draco did pass on the necklace to her via Madam Rosmerta, and Draco did put her life in great danger, and Katie did almost die a horrible death.”

It came back to extreme duress again. Ginny argued that Draco had been sixteen at the time, and under pressure from the most evil wizard of modern memory to kill Dumbledore. Still, she knew her arguments sounded tired and weak even as she said them. The Wizengamot looked bored. One witch even yawned and looked at her nails as Ginny spoke, which made her heart lurch horribly.

But they had to listen to her. They had to believe her when she said that Draco was not a “bad person” like Padma had said; he was good, so good, and warm and friendly and loved by many. Ginny stifled her own yawn. She felt as though she hadn’t slept in a hundred years, and her weariness was bone-deep. She wanted to sleep, safe in her bed with Draco’s body curled around her, as the sun came up and greeted them in the early morning stillness.

But after Katie had stepped down, and returned to her seat where Oliver Wood wrapped her tightly in his arms and rubbed her back, Harper announced the next witness:

“The prosecution calls on Harry Potter.”

Ginny blinked at her table, shaking away the cobwebs, in time to see Harry leave his seat and approach the stand. She had work to do.