Wanderer

Black and White

Chapter Twenty Eight- Black and White

May

If Hermione never stepped foot in the Ministry courtrooms ever again in her life, it would still be too soon.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, throat going dry. The high atrium ceiling was still suffocating and claustrophobic, and the Wizengamot sat, facing outwards, a sea of withdrawn and sombre faces, their crimson robes and square hats reminding her of the last trial she'd attended, making her heart race even faster. As if on cue, Hermione's eyes drifted past them to the chair in the centre of the room.

Narcissa Malfoy looked worse than when they'd visited her at St Mungo's, her hair was limp and pale yellow, frail hands resting on the armrests, though she sat tall in the chair, and her long and slender fingers were still adorned with rings, and though Hermione couldn't see her face from where she was sitting, she spotted the Healers at the side of the room and thanked every God listening for Harry. He'd sent her a second Owl only a day after his first reply, telling her that Narcissa Malfoy's sentence was to be re-examined in light of her health and new evidence.

Hermione had never seen Draco look so hopeful, a glint in his grey eyes, but he'd just nodded, swallowing thickly, lip trembling as it curled, "Always Saint Potter," he'd said. He wasn't at the trial. He wasn't allowed to leave Hogwarts. Hermione had left him in the Room of Requirement, where he'd been pretending to read, flicking the page periodically even though she could see his eyes remained fixed to a single point. She'd wanted to hold his hand and tell him things would work out, that he could trust Harry, but every word fell to ash on her tongue and so she'd kept quiet, leaving him there, forcing herself to look forward when all she wanted was to look back. Draco's eyes had followed her until she'd disappeared. She had felt them.

Hermione shifted in her seat, chewing on her fingernail. She was alone today. Ron couldn't get the time off but she wished desperately that he was there to whisper badly timed jokes in her ear so it didn't all feel so terribly pessimistic.

There had been more charges against Draco, but Draco was a child. He hadn't already spent six months in Azkaban.

Suddenly, the Chief Warlock stood. Hermione's heart leapt to her throat. She sat a little straighter.

"Narcissa Malfoy," her magnified voice echoed around the room. "Your sentence is being reviewed as a result of new evidence brought to the attention of the Wizengamot. You had been carrying out the sentence decreed by your first trial in Azkaban, but a recent health problem had you transferred to St Mungos to be treated. Is this information correct?"

The Malfoy matriarch's head dipped in a slight nod. Her voice was throaty, low and quiet. It did not shake, nor did it crack. It wavered with the gentle warble of an aristocrat. "Yes, that is correct."

"There is only one witness for today's proceedings," the Chief Warlock continued, reviewing her papers. "I can't see this taking much time but said witness has a tendency to keep us occupied so we should begin as quickly as possible."

Hermione swore she saw the corner of Ottaline Warbeck's lips twitch before the woman cleared her throat, raising her head and said, "Bring in the witness."

The doors swung open and Harry was led into the witness box. He didn't appear nervous, expression carefully blank, but Hermione knew her friend too well to not spot the almost obsessive way he kept pushing on the bridge of his glasses, even when they hadn't slid an inch.

The woman on Ottaline Warbeck's left cleared her throat. "Mr Potter, you claim to have new evidence pertaining to Mrs Malfoy's involvement in the war. Pray tell, why are you only coming forward with this now? Why not at Mrs Malfoy's first trial?"