Harry was first called on for Narcissa Malfoy's trial. He recounted the story of her lying to Voldemort about his death, and how that act saved everyone from Voldemort's victory in the battle. The Wizengamot gave her 6 months of house arrest with full use of magic, pending no further charges.

During Draco's trial, they asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione to stand together but Harry did all of the retellings of their time at the Manor. Hermione answered questions about her part in distorting Harry's face and declined discussion regarding her torture, stating that Bellatrix was already dead.

Headmistress McGonagall also spoke for Draco. She didn't provide any specific stories, she discussed his age and upbringing, more than anything else. She also offered to hold monthly accountability meetings with him, should he return to her school.

Draco didn't look up during any of the proceedings, only seemed to be focused intently on his hands which were in his lap. The Wizengamot cleared him of all charges, pending a successful year at Hogwarts, continued community service through the restoration project, and mandatory monthly meetings with McGonagall.

Before Harry could step down and go back to his seat one of the Malfoy lawyers stopped him and asked, "Mr. Potter, a few more questions if you are willing?"

Harry glanced to Hermione and Ron who stayed next to him, standing to his right. Ron shrugged and Hermione gave a slight nod, neither of them made to move off the witness stand. Harry knew he wasn’t obligated to say more than he already had, but he was willing to hear this out. “Go ahead,” he said.

“The night that you were in Malfoy Manor,” the lawyer drawled, “was Lucius Malfoy present in the room?”

Harry fought to keep his eyes from looking at Lucius, “Yes,” he replied.

“And do you think Lucius instructed his son to save you? Or at the very least, that he was supportive of Draco’s decision to deceive the Dark Lord?”

Elphias Doge stood from his chair and shouted, “That question is completely leading the witness, not to mention offensive in its wording. Tom Riddle wasn’t the lord of anything in his time, he was just a desperate fool!”

A stony silence followed his words in which the lawyer cast hard eyes on Doge but remained silent for several minutes. He smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles of his robe and turned back to Harry and said, “My apologies, Mr. Potter, allow me to rephrase. Do you believe it was Lucius Malfoy’s intent to deceive the people in the room with you during your time at Malfoy Manor?”

This time Harry let his eyes move to the man in question, the bitter fearful words Lucius had spoken rang in his ears. He remembered how fast his own heart was beating and the desperation in Lucius’ voice when he told Draco that they could regain their favor with Voldemort.

Then, without conscious permission, his eyes slid from Lucius to Draco. His head was still bent down and his hair was long enough now for the fringe of it to cast a shadow over his face. At that moment Harry could only remember one phrase being spoken that night at the Manor. He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t be sure.”

Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet his, disbelief written plainly on his face. Harry turned back to the lawyer and repeated, “I can’t be sure.” Then added, “There were a lot of people there and everyone was talking at once.”

A ghost of a smugness touched his features and the lawyer said, “Thank you for your time, all three of you.”

They left the courtroom and went straight to Robert’s office to floo to the Leaky Cauldron. They ate quietly, with the only conversation happening towards the end of the meal. Even then they didn’t talk about the day but took refuge in the safe topic of Quidditch.

****
When Harry woke on Thursday morning he felt wrung out and decided to stay in bed where he spent a better part of the day trying to make a decision about returning to his life or moving to a remote muggle location in Canada to escape the- well, to escape everything really.

Kreacher brought him soup and tea throughout the day, and then gave in and retrieved him a Dreamless sleep potion late that night. For the last 2 weeks in May Harry had taken the potion quite liberally until Kreacher had, in a moment of unbridled insolence, brought it to the attention of Molly Weasley during a visit for tea. She had lectured Harry into a promise to only take it twice a month, then for safety, she locked them in the storeroom and charmed the key to only work for Kreacher.

On Friday afternoon Hermione came over to find Harry still in his pajama pants with no shirt on and sleep-filled eyes. She bossed him about until he was showered, dressed, and eating a proper meal in his kitchen.

“You can’t stay locked up in this house Harry,” she said.

“I know ‘Mione, I just needed a couple of days.” When she didn’t look convinced he offered, “I will go back to Hogwarts on Monday.”

Hermione nodded, “How’s it going there? Is it still working out with Parkinson?”

“It’s good. I think you are going to like the rooms, and we are nearly done with that area,” Harry said. He stood up to start the kettle, “Do you want a cuppa?”

“Yes, Ceylon tea please,” she said, taking a seat and tugging at her long-sleeved shirt. “What about Parkinson?”

Harry turned to face her and leaned against the counter, “It’s fine. She took the piss with that Prophet article though. A right nightmare that damn thing has been.”

A flash of anger went through Hermione’s eyes, “Well I hope she wasn’t offensive!”

“No, not like that” Harry said quickly. Then, when she seemed to relax a touch, he said, “Pansy just wanted to give me a hard time. She wasn’t cruel or anything. I’m not worried about her. It’s the rest of them, I’ve been getting owls non-stop from people giving their opinions about the whole thing.”

“Pansy?” Hermione asked with a small smile.

“I’ve spent a fair amount of time with her.” Harry shrugged and smiled back, “She hates it though when I call her Pansy.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Harry asked, “Is that Ron then?”

Hermione, who was looking at the door, replied, “No, he’s at the shop with his brother.”

Harry left her in the kitchen and opened the door to find Draco Malfoy on his step. He was dressed in soft grey trousers with a charcoal jumper over a pale blue button-up. Not that Harry saw any of that, all he saw was Draco’s eyes, sharp sterling, with a bit of his platinum hair obscuring the view. They stared at each other for a moment without speaking until Harry broke eye contact, looking at the doorknob he was still holding, then promptly let it go.

Harry roughly exhaled and said quietly, “Yeah,” he kicked the door open a bit more, “All right.” Then turned around and walked back into the kitchen, listening to the sound of Draco walking into his house and shutting the door behind him.

Hermione stood from her chair and regarded Draco warily as he approached. Draco stopped a few feet from the table and met her eye.

“Granger,” he said with a stiff nod. Then, looking at her sleeve covered left arm, “I’m sorry for what you went through at the Manor.” Then he met her eye, “I also apologize for the many horrible things that I’ve said to you over the years. ”

Hermione’s body didn’t merely still, it seemed to become an unmoving statue, except for her blinking eyes. “Thank you Malfoy,” she finally replied.

After a beat, Draco broke eye contact and shrugged, “I still think you’re a know it all,” he said, a touch of drawl in his response, “but only because you’re much smarter than the other students at our school. I’m still going to work hard at beating your marks this year.” He looked back up at her, the trepidation in his eyes betraying his attempt for casualness, “Assuming you’re returning?” he finished.

Hermione lifted a brow, did a perfect mimic of the haughty Malfoy smirk, and said, “Oh I’ll be there, ready and waiting for you to ask me for help.”

A brief smile touched Draco’s lips, then he shook his head and turned to Harry.

Harry swallowed and said nothing, then broke eye contact and gave Hermione a pleading look.

Help me. I don’t know what the fucking protocol is here. Please take over like you normally do, he thought, a bit desperately.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Well, I should be going,” she said and reached for her bag.

“What?!” Harry cried.

“Yeah, I need to be along,” she said. Then turned to Draco, “Glad I was here when you came, feel free to have the tea he was making for me. I ran out of time to drink it. See you at school I’m sure.”

Draco only seemed caught off guard by her abrupt attempt to exit for a brief moment before his features schooled into an impassive expression. He nodded slightly and said, “Thank you for your hospitality Granger. I will see you soon.”

Harry followed her to the door and whispered furiously, “What are you doing? You can’t just leave me here.”

She looked up at him and patted his arm gently, “You live here Harry.”

“You know what I mean.”

They both glanced back to where Draco was looking around the kitchen as though he were taking a measure of the places worth and finding it lacking.

Hermione leaned in to hug Harry and said, “You have enough between you to work out without someone here to meddle, and there’s no way I could keep my mouth shut.”

That pulled a reluctant chuckle from Harry until he firmly told himself to stay upset with her, pulled back from the hug and scowled at her. “I prefer when you meddle,” he said.

Hermione smiled at him now, a full, unapologetic smile and said, “Harry, I love you. You defeated Voldemort, you’ll be fine. Now, I’m leaving and I will see you in a couple of weeks.”

Harry deflated, “Fine. Yes, ok. I will see you when you get back. Good luck, of course, and let me know if you need anything.”

She moved away and opened the door, then turned back to him and said, “Please don’t spend your weekend taking one-offs to bed. Do something productive with your time.”

With that, she was out the door and had it closed behind her. Harry took solace in the thought of completely ignoring her parting remark as he walked back into the kitchen to find Draco sitting at his table with a pile of letters in front of him. Harry recognized them as the owls he’d received that morning, and mentally kicked himself for leaving him alone.