Legilimens [Dramione]

The Trial

The cold of Azkaban was the worst thing about that place.

He could still feel it sometimes, in the darkness of his bedroom, when the almost perpetual emptiness of his mind was compounded by darkness.

To avoid feeling it he often slept with a lit candle, which on the worst nights became two, or three, or sometimes four.

He had not yet fully decided on the strategy he would use, but he was more than willing to omit those who had helped him. The best scenario he could imagine was the one where Lucius found out on the day of the trial or, even better, once he was under house arrest at the Manor.

The dementors escorted him to the visiting room as the now familiar cold made its way along his skin.

He noticed that his father was much thinner and paler than when he had last seen him. The circles under his eyes were increasingly purple and his hair, once so shiny and smooth that they reflected even the glow of the moon in the full darkness, were now a tangled mass of slate grey.

He felt sorry for him; that was perhaps the only feeling he had for the man.

He noticed that he was holding a worn volume of the Daily Prophet, the cover of which bore smiling Potter and Weasley.
The article announced their wedding, nothing that would interest him in the slightest.

He sat down across from his father as he continued to stare at the image on the page with his lips folded into a grimace.

"Disgusting," the man finally exclaimed, closing the newspaper and tossing it ungracefully into a corner.

Draco sighed resignedly. "Two weeks from now, there will be a new trial," he said, holding his breath and carefully observing the surprised expression on his father's face. He pulled out of his bag a set of documents that David had left him. "Your case will be retried, the only evidence the prosecution has provided is flimsy. If they don't provide more evidence in favour of the murder accusation, and my lawyer is confident they won't, you are likely to get house arrest for the crimes committed during the war, but there will be no basis to keep you any longer in Azkaban."

The man continued to stare at him silently, his mouth slightly open. Draco could see in his eyes the exact moment his mind registered that information.

Something rekindled in that pale, gaunt face, and his lips moved in a hint of a smile, revealing his yellowed teeth.

He did not recognize him at all.

"Who did this? Alfred? That old imbecile," the man laughed, exposing his yellow teeth even more. "I knew he'd come through in the end. He was being modest when he claimed there was nothing to do-"

"Actually-" Draco tried to interrupt him, but Lucius continued.

"Or maybe Gilbert? I knew he wouldn't be able to rest even if he wanted to. And he has too much influence within the Ministry to be ignored, am I right?"

"It wasn't any of them," Draco protested softly, noting that the time of his visit was running out. "It's not important," he said, speaking very quietly. "Listen, you don't have to talk to anyone while you're here," he sighed, adding emphasis to his words. "On the day of the trial you won't have to tell your side of the story, or testify again. My lawyer," he continued, trying to hold back a grimace, "is confident that you will be placed under house arrest immediately. They can't hold you any longer".

"Great," Lucius stated, with an expression on his face that bordered more on madness than happiness. "I knew this was going to happen, that they'd get us out of here..."

He did not look his son in the eyes as he spoke, and Draco felt strangely relieved when one of the dementors opened the door, decreeing the end of his visit.