The Dragon and the Angel - [Draco/Hermione]

Chapter Thirteen - An Owl From the Ministry

Chapter Thirteen - An Owl From the Ministry

It wasn't until the next day that the bad news arrived. Hermione supposed Kingsley Shaklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, had been busy, or wanted to keep them all on edge. Only Hermione, Harry and Ron knew what Draco had done, and what the punishment would be. Draco had been acting calm when they saw him in Potions, but Hermione knew he was panicking. The thought of performing an Unforgivable curse, right after the Ministry had forgiven him for his Death Eater days was unbearable, especially because it was on his aunt.

The mail arrived at seven thirty sharp. A tauny owl fluttered over to the Slytherin table and dropped a scroll of parchment in Draco's plate. The members of the Golden Trio looked at each other, then rushed over to their new friend.

"It'll be alright, Draco, I'm sure Kingsley will understand." said Hermione as Draco, his fingers numb, unrolled the letter.

"Dear Draco Malfoy," he read aloud, voice shaking. "We have recieved notice that you performed the Killing Curse at 11: 54 last night when you were aware that it was an Unforgivable, and you would have been sentanced to a life-time of imprisonment in Azkaban. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shaklebolt, has taken pity on you-"

"That's great!" Ron interrupted.

"Keep reading." Harry urged, seeing the look of horror in Draco's eyes.

"-has taken pity on you, and offers you a fair trial. If you do not show up at the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp, you will be sent to Azkaban immediately. Signed, Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Draco put the paper down.

"At least they're giving you a fair trial, which was as much as we could ask." Harry said after a few moments of silence with a hesitant smile of encouragement on his face.

"But there's no chance that he's going to get out of-" Ron began, only to be cut off by Hermione, roughly stomping on his foot. "OW! Hermione!"

"Hush, Ron." Hermione hissed, then addressed a sulky Draco. "Harry, Ron and I will acompany you, Draco, since we were involved as well."

"No, you don't have to." Draco insisted. "It was my fault and I should take the consequences-"

"Nonsense!" Hermione interrupted.

"We're as guilty as you are." Harry reminded him. "We let you do it."

"Couldn't really have stopped him-"

"RON, SHUT UP!"

"Sorry, 'Mione."

They all looked at Draco, waiting for an answer. Hermione held onto Ron's hand, squeezing it so he wouldn't say anything else stupid as Harry drummed his fingers on the hard surface of the wooden table. Ron pulled his hand out of Hermione's grasp as Lavender came over and sat down next to him, smiling sweetly, and asking why he was sitting with the Death Eater (surprisingly, Ron corrected her - "Ex-Death Eater, Lavey.").

"Fine," Draco sighed heavily, though relief was evident in his eyes. "Thank you."

Ron started up a conversation with Lavender to keep himself busy as Harry, Hermione and Draco started planning how on earth they would get to London tomorrow at ten in the morning when they had classes. When Lavender walked away, Ron turned back to them.

"We could ride the threstals like last time." he suggested. "We can all see them now." he muttered the last part as he referred back to the Battle of Hogwarts. He would bet the little money he had that almost everyone in the Great Hall over the age of seventeen could see the beasts, who could only bee seen by those who had seen death.

"I... Uh..." Draco flushed a dark shade of red and stuttered a few more extremely intelligent words before looking down into his pumpkin juice, the tips of his pale ears turning red. Hermione struggled to push back the thought that it made him look adorable.

"You're afraid of heights." Harry supressed a smile, but suddenly became serious. "It's either flying skeleton-bodied horses or a smelly, dingy cell in a wizard prison, situated in the middle of an ocean."

"Let's go with the horses." Draco replied immediately, though he would have found that cell rather comforting at nine thirty the next morning when he was soaring across the skies on a black flying horse Hermione had ever-so-lovingly nicknamed Blackjack.