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September 1997
Harry went for a walk, again. This was quite a recurring habit for him, to go out and brood. The first few times Hermione thought it was because of the locket. But as days went by, she realised that was clearly not the case. She would often see him crying, clutching something in his hand. She really wanted to help him, offer him comfort, but she knew he would just push her away and not talk with her.
October 1997
Ron left them. He fucking left, the absolute bastard. She was going to kill him if they ever found him again.Maybe Ron was why he wasn't talking with her before? A lot of times she saw Harry hesitating, wanting to tell her something, but then eventually deciding against it and smiling at her. Did he feel as if both of them would get mad at him? It tore her apart, Harry not feeling comfortable enough to talk with them.
March 1998
Fucking hell, Ron was right to not use You-Know-Who's name the whole time. She sent a stinging hex at Harry's face, hoping they wouldn't recognise them. If they did, well, death would be the best thing that could happen to them. Ron looked fucking terrified, but Harry, Harry looked content, as if was looking forward to going to the Manor. Which made absolute zero sense because what?
They got out. They managed to escape oh god. She was still shaking from the aftershocks of the cruciatus but she couldn't care less. They were alive. They were alive because Malfoy didn't recognise them. Malfoy. She knew Malfoy lied for them. Harry and Malfoy had been glaring at each other everyday for the past six years, one cannot just forget a face they hit on a daily basis. Her heart had dropped cold when she saw Malfoy crouching in front of Harry, she was sure they were going to die. Malfoy said something to Harry, and a hint of a smile appeared on Harry’s face, the stinging hex almost making it look like a grimace. But she was sure it was a smile. What did Malfoy say and why did he lie?
May 10,1998
She wanted to pester Harry about what happened at Malfoy Manor but he avoided her every time she brought it up. Malfoy was up for trial today, so Harry definitely couldn't avoid her anymore. They had to get their story straight if they were going to keep him out of Azkaban.
Harry looked jittery as he sat down at the table, he couldn’t stop fiddling.
“Harry love, eat a bit more will you? You’ll be gone for a long time today.” Molly fussed over Harry. Hermione couldn’t blame her. Fred’s loss made her fuss over everyone ten times more.
“Molly I’m full, really. You could pack me some pie instead? I’ll eat it when they take a break."
“Oh Morgana of course! How did I not think of that? I’ll pack pie for all of you.”
“Hey Molly, who are these for?” Hermione asked, pointing at a stack of letters on the table.
“Oh those, there was a mole in the Death eaters, he used to send us letters about attacks a day before they happened. But we think he’s dead, he never revealed who he was and the letters stopped coming after a while. Take a look if you want. Oh! And Harry, they're all addressed to you.” Molly replied, going back into the kitchen to pack the pies.
“Snape?” He frowned.
“I’m not sure, Snape had free reign over Hogwarts, yes? So nobody checked in on him. He could have helped until the end, and letters are a highly unlikely medium. His handwriting is recognizable everywhere, he wouldn’t risk it.”
Harry’s face lit up with hope. “ C’mon lets read them, it's not as if we have anything else to do.”
“Harry we need to talk about Malfoy Ma-”
“Yes, yes, later. I promise you I’ll answer every question you ask.”
She rolled her eyes, later meant never but she’d let him indulge in the letters, she would ask him afterwards.
Potter,
Attack on High street 29, targeting women this time. Greyback will be there, keep potions handy.
I still hate you
I still hate you? That was weird. Why would someone send a letter to Harry knowing he was on the run? She turned towards Harry to ask him what he thought of it but paused as she saw him staring at the letter, mouth agape, eyes shining with recognition. Recognition?
He began going through the rest of them, not bothering to read, just looking at the end. Each had I still hate you written at the end. Harry looked at her with a shit eating grin, eyes gleaming with happiness and jumped on her, hugging her, mumbling I knew it all over again. Harry was more questions than answers, but well, she’d learnt to accept it a long time ago.
The trial was complete chaos. Wixen screaming everywhere, most of them yelling about how Malfoy should be locked up.
“SILENCE.”
“Do we have anyone speaking on behalf of the accused?”
“I, Harry Potter, have evidence on behalf of Mister Malfoy. They are memories, I will need a pensive.” The Wizengamot felt silent. This was highly unexpected for them. They expected Harry to speak against Malfoy, given their history.
“Mister Potter, come forth to the stand and give your memories. A pensive will not be necessary.”
Harry looked confused, how could they ask for memories and not use a pensive? The minister started waving his wand in complex motions and began casting on the bottle. The memories expanded in the room, as if on a screen as they began flashing by.
—
Harry slammed Malfoy against the wall.
“I know you have the mark you fucking coward.”
“Fuck off Potter, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Shall I take you to Madam Pomphrey? Maybe she can fix you.”
“I’m going to find what you’re up to Malfoy, Mark my words.”
Malfoy crying at the sink, Harry casting sectumsempra, blood seeping through his shirt, Malfoy trying to speak but choking up.
Malfoy in the hospital wing, wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through them.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what the spell did.”
“Fuck off Potter.”
“Malfoy, let me help you, please. I know it’s hard. I know he’s threatening you, I know he’ll kill you. But I can help you, defect to our side, Dumbledore will help you.”
“I said fuck off”
“I’ll be at the Astronomy Tower if you need.”
“Goodbye Potter.”
“You came.”
“Don’t let it get to your thick head. Your company is better than no company, so shut the fuck up.”
“We can help-”
“Shut up Potter”
“Okay”
“I still hate you.”
“Do you ever feel like it would be better if you just jumped off the tower? Death would feel peaceful, don’t you think?”
“Draco Malfoy about to commit suicide? Let me grab popcorn.”
“What the fuck is popcorn?”
“Something you would hate.”
“I will not, bring it for me next time.”
“It’s a muggle invention, sure you want it?”
"Fuck off, bring it next time.”
“Aww so bossy.”
“I’ll kill you Potter, the Dark lord be damned.”
“Nah you love me.”
“I still hate you.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Come to Dumbledore, he’ll get you to a safe house.”
“That old fool won’t do shit for me.”
“He’s not a fool and he will help you.”
“What about my mother? Can he help her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. All you lot care about is yourselves, rest be damned.”
“I care about you.”
“I still hate you.”
Malfoy brought a origami swan with him this time and charmed it to fly towards Harry.
"Merry Christmas."
"You got me a gift?"
"I still hate you."
"Sure you do."
"Fuck off."
“Come with me, I have a task to complete, we can do it together.”
“I can’t leave my mother Potter, use that thick head of yours once in a while will you?”
“What if we can get her to a safe house?”
“A lot of if’s there, won’t work.”
“Be a bit optimistic will you?”
“Be realistic Potter, not optimistic.”
“Oh shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“Fine, but keep in mind I’m always here for you, yeah.?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Hey Potter?
“Hmm?”
“I still hate you.”
“Love you too.”
Draco crouched in front of Harry at the Manor, and whispered, “I still hate you.”
Harry smiled.
—
Hermione felt her jaw drop.
“We know there was a mole in the Death Eater ranks, we got letters before every attack, all of them addressed to me and ending with I still hate you, a common phrase for Draco to use. He was the mole. Further, the letter's stopped after we got captured and sent to the Manor because he must have gotten some kind of punishment for not identifying us”
Chaos erupted in the room.
“We can’t be sure it’s the Malfoy boy who wro-”
“That coward? He was the mo-”
“No way Malfoy did-”
“SILENCE.”
“Mister Potter, what you have here is circumstantial evidence. You do not have proof that Mister Malfoy wrote these. Until you provide proof, I’m afraid I cannot use these memories and letters as evidence.”
“But-”
“I, Minerva McGonagall, have a memory from Albus Dumbledore in defense of Mister Malfoy.” Professor McGonagall’s voice boomed through the room, amplified by a sonorous.
“Professor, come forth to the stand and give your memories.”
—
“I want an out, sir.”
“Ah Mister Malfoy, straight to the point.”
“I want mother and I to be placed in a safe house.”
“But do you think she wants to come?”
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll drug her if it comes to that.”
“You know, you could help Harry a lot more if you stayed with the Death Eaters and became a mole for us. Harry needs inside information.”
“Why the fuck would I risk my life for Potter?”
“Your visits to the Astronomy tower say otherwise.”
“I hate him.”
“Of course Mister Malfoy, think about it will you? Your mother will not willingly defect. You can protect them both this way.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll pass on information to your lot.”
“I’ll send you the address to the Weasley residence later this evening.”
“What about my task?"
“You complete it, of course.”
“Are you fucking crazy?”
“Mister Malfoy I’m dying, I have 6 months at most to live. We will have to use my death to gain you favour within the Death Eaters.”
“Am I allowed to tell Potter about this?”
“No, he should not have distractions from his task.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to pass on information to him then? Surely you don’t think he won’t recognise my handwriting?”
“You will pass on information to the Weasleys through letters, Harry will be on the run. But address them to Harry, so after the war it will be easier clear your name. He will have some sort of failsafe ready for you. I'm sure he will tell Miss Granger and Mister Weasley about you."
“You’re a fucking arsehole you know that?”
“Mister Malfoy.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate.”
“I still hate him.”
“Do you?”
“No I don’t”
—
May 11, 1998
The Wizengamot had erupted into applause for Malfoy’s bravery. Malfoy and brave were two words she never thought would make sense in a sentence. She was curious as to how Skeeter wrote the article on yesterday’s trial. So with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and the Daily Prophet in the other, she began to read.
“DRACO MALFOY: TRAITOR TO THE DARK
Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater…..........