I'm Coming For You, Draco Malfoy!

Prologue - The Arrest

The Aurors were quiet and calm when they walked into the Great Hall at Hogwarts after the Battle had finished. Of course, they had arrived too late. They even arrived after the Healers from St Mungo's but I imagine the Ministry was in disarray, trying to unravel those who were loyal to the Dark Lord, those who were Imperiused, those who were loyal to Harry but had to keep their thoughts and beliefs quiet as they searched for 'Undesirable No. 1' under the Dark Lord's reign.

The newly-arrived Aurors picked their way between the shell-shocked parties, those who were injured, those who were mourning, those who were lost. Gradually stopping, dispersing, talking, helping. No doubt collecting evidence too.

Two Aurors made their way towards where my parents sat quietly amongst the choking dust in the Great Hall, out of place but with nowhere else to go. It was better not to run, that's what mother said, and I agreed with her. Father said nothing. He was one of the lost ones. His world had crumbled around him and he'd lost everything for a fanatical and despotic scheme born of a madman. I saw that now. Perhaps I saw it the day I was given the Mark and was charged with killing Albus Dumbledore, though I tried to deny it for a long time. Father was broken; his world around his feet. His handsome face was grey, marred by dark shadows and a stubble that he would once never have deigned to grace his aristocratic jaw. His grey eyes were as dull and lifeless as his long lank hair, his mouth slightly open, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. He would not look at anyone but I think he saw the destruction of the path he'd taken us down. We were, in part, responsible for this carnage. Mother held his hand gently, like she was cradling the hand a missing child who did not belong to her and occasionally he would look at their intertwined fingers in wonder and he would glance at her face as if he did not know her.

One Auror headed towards me. I knew this time would come and I accepted it without resistance. I understood that in accepting my father's beliefs that he'd thrust upon my young head, I must accept this too. I gently touched Madame Pomfrey's arm to signal to her that I must go and I stood up, my back straight and my head held high for my Malfoy pride was the only thing I had left. Madame Pomfrey stood too, indignation visible in her face, but I shook my head and reached for my black jacket which I'd discarded when I decided it was better to help than to sit hopelessly by father's side. I was stronger than that. I had finally realised that the honour of my actions far outweighed my duty to my family. I left my black shirt unbuttoned at my neck, my black tie long since removed and lost somewhere; signs that I'd rejected the person I was before, even if those signs were too elusive for most to read. No one had said anything, there were more important things happening than the understated symbols of my insurrection, though Professor McGonagall had noticed and raised a wry eyebrow at the V of pale flesh that I exposed; she understood that no previous male Malfoy adult would have exposed their neck in such an informal way.

It was not entirely surprising that people stopped and stared when the Aurors arrested us. I heard Madame Pomfrey exclaim, 'Minerva!' as if the professor could prevent what was happening. But I knew this was inevitable and, as I faced the Auror who approached me, I turned my wand handle towards them and handed it over.

'They're unarmed,' I said, nodding towards my parents.

The Aurors looked confused, disbelieving that any witch or wizard would be on the site of a battlefield without their wand.

'The Dark Lord took my father's wand long ago as his own. It was destroyed. Then Harry disarmed us and took mine and my father's spare at Malfoy Manor in March. This is my mother's wand; she gave it to me before the battle.'

The Auror nearest me snorted in scepticism. 'And you didn't replace them?' he sneered.

'From where?' I said, trying to subdue the natural haughtiness I felt for the idiot. 'Gregorovitch is dead and Mr Ollivander was being held captive by the Dark Lord until Harry rescued him.'