Old Moon Fades

Chapter Seven: The Life Left Behind

The days leading up to the hearing went quite slowly indeed. Hermione remained at St. Mungo's for several more days following her kidnapping. Word soon spread that Lucius Malfoy was dead; the fact that the youngest Malfoy had been arrested only served to further the gossip and subsequently stir the reporters who all were wishing for possible leads in a story that could be the turning point of their careers. Flowers and cards arrived by the hundreds and eventually the nurses set up a staging area for the owls to carry their parcels. Hermione tired of the endless array of presents soon after they began arriving.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny came to visit as soon as the mediwitches gave them clearance. Ron had been too upset at first to say anything and simply stood in the corner of the room idly plucking at a vase of flowers, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Harry sat in a plump green chair that was hidden behind the door and Ginny plopped herself down at the foot of Hermione's bed and immediately began rifling through the growing stack of letters. Mrs. Weasley stood outside the room as if guarding it after she had made sure that Hermione was indeed alright and that she wasn't injured too badly. She had been shooed from the room by Ginny and had reluctantly taken up her post in the hallway like a mother hen protecting her chicks.

"So, what happened?"

The question was blunt and very forward. Ron swung around as the words left Ginny's mouth, but he didn't say anything to chastise his younger sister. In fact, he looked up at Hermione expectantly. His eyes were filled with words he refused to express or even acknowledge. But, she saw them there. She felt them, warm and heavy, and at the same time sad and empty. She pulled her own eyes from his hastily and fixed them on Ginny who sat there waiting intently for an answer.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Hermione detailed the events of that morning, now several days later, as if reading from a book instead of sharing a life changing experience with her best friends. During her recitation Ginny had scooted closer and Harry leaned forward in his chair. Ron had moved further away and close to the door. He was no longer even looking at her. For that Hermione was relieved, it made the telling easier. She knew that it must have been deeply troubling for Ron especially.

By the end of the narration, her friends were completely quiet. Harry was far away, looking inward at some inner turmoil. No doubt reliving the experience they all had shared in the Department of Mysteries earlier that summer.

"It's all my fault." The words that escaped his lips were barely audible and filled with a stoicism that Hermione was shocked by.

Immediately she reached forward to cover his hand with her own, but Ginny beat her to it. Hermione pulled back slightly after Ginny leaned over and latched onto Harry's hand.

"None of this is your fault. Not this and certainly not what happened before. If anyone is to blame it's You-Know-Who." Ginny's voice was strong and held a sense of undeniable force behind it. Harry didn't contradict her, though it was obvious to Hermione that he didn't agree with her.

"She's right you know. They would have attacked me anyway. I'm muggleborn for one. And Malfoy has it in for me for as long as I can remember. This isn't your fault Harry. Don't blame yourself," Hermione tried reassuring her friend, but didn't think it did much good. She vowed to try again later.

Ron was still sulking in the corner but looked up as Hermione tried reasoning with Harry. The worn look was still in his eyes but he didn't look quite so hopeless. He even smiled somewhat hollowly at her and then ducked his head as his cheeks colored slightly.

There was a light knock at the door as Mr. Weasley poked his head in the room. Ginny hastily straightened and pulled her hand from atop Harry's. Arthur Weasley slowly began unwinding a brightly knitted scarf from around his neck and delicately draped it over his arm as he stepped into the room. Molly followed her husband into the hospital room and went immediately to Hermione's side. Ron moved away from the door and came to stand next to his father at the foot of the bed.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and searched Hermione's face before he began. The room stood silent and all its occupants waited with bated breath for his pronouncement. Molly edged him on with a nod of her head and a whispered encouragement.

"I've been asked to inform you that your presence will be required at Draco Malfoy's hearing. Since you are the only witness to what happened, your testimony is vital to the Wizengamot's decision of his fate."

He pulled a letter from his breast pocket and handed it over the bed to Hermione. With shaking fingers she grasped it. She turned it over slowly. The seal was unbroken and bore the seal of the Wizengamot.

She quietly asked, "When?"

"Tomorrow at one o'clock. The mediwitch already gave her permission. It took a letter directly from Amelia Bones explaining the necessity of your testimony in order for her to consent to release you in time for the hearing, but not a minute before."

Molly patted her on the back, "It'll be just fine dear. We can get you ready in plenty of time, can't we Ginny dear?" Molly looked down at Ginny expectantly.

"Oh, yes of course, Mum," Ginny replied quickly. Her bright red head bobbed up and down in affirmation.

"Good, now we will be here tomorrow before lunch time. Arthur will escort you to the Ministry, so you needn't worry about that." Molly squeezed Hermione's shoulder and then pulled herself to her full height. She walked toward her husband and latched onto his arm before turning to face them again. "We will give you three a few more minutes to say your goodbyes for the evening."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked out of the room leaving Hermione and her three friends alone. Ginny was studying her, her eyes honing in on whatever she might pick up from Hermione's body language or facial expressions. Harry was staring past her, distant and contemplative. Ron was looking anywhere but at her. His hands were balled up in fists and his jaw was set. She could practically hear his teeth grinding. But, still he refused to meet her eyes.

She glanced back down at the envelope in her hands. Up until this point she had firmly put the entire incident away and had refused to think on it. It was entirely uncharacteristic of her. She most always dealt with things immediately. Not this time, not when she couldn't make sense herself of what had happened. Not when she was too afraid of the consequences of those thoughts. That morning everything had changed. Every idea and concept she had held of the world and of the people in it had abruptly been shattered. Her entire belief system lay in ruins all because of what had happened in that underground chamber at Malfoy Manor.

If only he hadn't shone compassion and the hint of feelings underneath that steel armor he surrounded himself in. If only she hadn't glimpsed what lay beneath that armor. A soul. A soul that wasn't black and hard like she had always known. It might be tarnished and lost but it certainly wasn't warped and twisted. That fact disconcerted her more than even she realized. Not only had she made an egregious mistake in the judgment of his character but she had committed a fundamental error in the judgment of her own. For as long as she could remember she had prided herself on her unbiased opinions of others and her forward thinking regarding equality and human worth. And now, had she not also committed a sin as great as those she despised so much? She had viewed Malfoy as a self righteous and desperately misguided boy completely directed by the beliefs of his social class. And he had proved her wrong. When put to the test in a dire situation he had denied his father and in doing so, the entire basis of his existence. In that underground room, as his father ordered her death, Malfoy had put his own life in danger in defense of beliefs he probably didn't even know he had. He had seemed genuinely surprised by his own rebellion. This turn of events made Hermione realize that nothing was set in stone.

"Hermione!"

Ginny pulled her out of her reverie. When she looked up all three of her friends were carefully watching her. She had momentarily forgotten them in the room with her. Harry had stood up and was standing close to Ron by the door. He moved closer when Ginny spoke.

"Hermione, are you ok?"

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know anything at that moment. Her entire world was in absolute chaos. All the things that had happened were fresh in her mind. Her parents getting attacked. Her own kidnapping. Lucius Malfoy's death. The revelation about Malfoy's true parentage. The upcoming hearing. She whispered aloud the phrase that was repeating itself over and over in her head. "What am I going to do?"

Ginny reached over and clutched her hand. Ron and Harry fidgeted. Before she realized what was happening she was sobbing. Great body wracking sobs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. The salty taste of tears filled her mouth as she gasped in large quantities of air in an attempt to keep from suffocating. She was vaguely aware of Ginny fiercely grabbing hold of her in a hug. She clung to her friend, began pulling on her jumper. Ginny whispered quietly in her ear that everything would be alright. Sometime later Hermione was aware of settling back on the pillows. Ginny smoothed some hair from her face and patted her hand. If Hermione had opened her eyes to notice she would have seen tears in Ginny's eyes and a look of stony determination in Harry's. She would have seen Ron leave the room because he couldn't stand the stifling emotions that were eating him up. But, Hermione didn't see any of these things. She was lost in an inner nightmare that was frighteningly real. Ginny pulled the blankets up and rearranged them more comfortably around Hermione's legs. Harry whispered a goodbye and he and Ginny shut the door behind them as they left.

* * *

Sleep slipped up on her shortly thereafter. She woke in the middle of the night, the fragments of a dream escaping her. Fitfully she regained unconsciousness and fell back into a hard slumber. When she woke the following morning she felt sick. Her eyes were swollen and her entire body was sore.

Hermione hesitantly sat up in the bed. Her feet hit the cold stone floor, the chill creeping up her legs and over her spine. She reached for her dressing gown draped across the footboard of the bed and wrapped it around herself. She went to the sink in the corner and splashed water on her face. This did little to soothe the tension she felt building in her body.

The mediwitch came into the room several minutes later with a tray of breakfast. As Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice she contemplated exactly what she would say at the hearing that afternoon. Just as she was winding up her mental deliberation, Mrs. Weasley with Ginny in tow knocked on the door and came in. The next hour and a half was spent bathing and getting dressed for her appearance before the Wizengamot. Mr. Weasley had taken it upon himself to have her clothing and school things packed and sent from her house to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley pulled out a freshly pressed black robe and brightly shining shoes for Hermione to wear. After those items were put on, she went to work on Hermione's hair. Finally she gave up trying to tame it and just let the thick curls have free rein.

Fairly soon afterwards Mr. Weasley poked his head in the room and announced that it was time to go. Hermione gathered up the loose parchment she had used to outline her testimony. Reluctantly she said goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny and followed Mr. Weasley out. They made quick work of getting to the Ministry. Neither of them said much and left each other to their own thoughts.

Mr. Weasley deposited Hermione outside a small room adjoining the courtroom. He told her that he had some business to attend to with another Ministry official and would be back to collect her shortly. As he left he gestured to the anteroom and suggested she wait there. His robe swished behind him as he walked off.

The door creaked as she opened it. It was rather dark in the room, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner. Two wingback chairs sat atop a dark green rug in the center of the room. It was the occupant of one of the chairs that drew her attention.

"Well, if it isn't Granger. Come to denounce me as a murderer, have you?"

It was the second time in a relatively short period of time that she had found him sitting in a chair mocking her. The emotions she had succumbed to the night before all came crashing back to her in that moment. His arrogant pose. The shock of pale blonde hair. The silvery eyes. None of those things were the source of her fear. It was what was beneath those eyes that scared her. The fact that she couldn't see it didn't mean that it wasn't still there lurking somewhere deep in his soul.

She spun around and stumbled trying to reach the door to escape. She had reasoned all this out that very morning. She had vowed to herself that she could handle seeing him again. But actually laying eyes on him was an entirely different experience. It was not one she could handle. Not yet. Her feet struggled to take her toward the door. More than anything in the world she wanted to flee.

"Wait."

It was whispered and held such quiet force and uncertainty.

"Please."

It was that word that ended it for her. Her feet stopped moving, stopped obeying her mind that was begging them to run. She turned back around slowly. He stood there in the center of the room, the light from the solitary lamp playing warmly on his face. His robe lay discarded on the chair. She wondered why she didn't notice that when she entered the room. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and his tie hung loosely from his collar.

"I see you didn't come unprepared," he said icily indicating the parchment she held in her hand. "You must be very pleased indeed to finally have your opportunity to denounce me. Potter and Weasel are probably..."

"No," she cut him off sharply and then quietly, "I'm not planning on denouncing you."

The look that crossed his face was one she would never forget. Malfoy was completely taken aback. "But, I tried to kill you," he said quietly, unbelieving.

She watched him a second before answering. "I know."