Chapter 32

                                    

                                          
Were all Malfoys cold? Not in the evil sense, but in the physical one. 
Draco's skin was deliciously cold. Those sharp chills that make you shiver and tingle in just the right way – the feeling of cold washing over you after you've been too hot. If Lucius wasn't the same, then clearly, it was a trait that Draco inherited from his mother. 
As Hermione sat back in the courtroom, her ass numb from the wooden bench, she gripped Narcissa's hand. And while Hermione's was clammy with nerves, Narcissa's was deadly cold, like ice fresh from the Black Lake during winter. 
Harry was seated on her other side this time, his fingers nearly going purple with how hard she was squeezing them. Thankfully, Ginny had the foresight to hand over the numbing cream that Hermione had given her for just this occasion. 
She couldn't breathe – and not in a good way like when Draco kissed the air from her lungs. Her chest was tight and her heart was struggling to beat. Everything was riding on this, on the words Kingsley was about to speak as he took his seat back on the podium. 
"Bring in the defendant," he ordered as Draco was escorted by a team of six Aurors into the room and chained to the chair that waited for him in the middle of the circular floor. As the echo of the chains began to fade, Kingsley began to speak. "Draco Malfoy, after careful deliberation, this council has come to a decision. For your crimes of murder, mass murder, torture, thievery, burglary, aiding and abetting a known Dark Wizard, aiding and abetting the attack on a secure Ministry facility, in this case Azkaban, improper use of magic, use of the Unforgivable Curses, destruction of property, arson, attempted murder, treason, kidnapping, extortion, possession of Dark Artefacts, the teaching of Dark Magic, this council finds you...guilty." 
Hermione's whole heart fell to her feet. It fell to the floor. She never knew that the hope and happiness could be sucked out of her so quickly. It was worse than a Dementor's Kiss. So much worse. She couldn't breathe. She was frozen and limp at the same time. She couldn't move and she couldn't do anything but think of the worst-case scenarios. She couldn't hear anything Harry was saying to her. 
Draco was still. He was so still. He didn't move. He didn't react and she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"Usually, you would be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss before you spend a lifetime in Azkaban," Kingsley said. "But these are extraordinary circumstances. You are, after all, The Right Hand of the Dark Lord and largely regarded as the second most Dark Wizard in all Britain." 
A single whimper tore itself out of Hermione's mouth as a single cold tear slid down her cheek. She could smell the salt. It made her sick. 
Harry grew concerned at the fact that Hermione's hand had gone limp in his. 
"And after taking into consideration the various witnesses who have testified on your behalf today and the sworn statements that we have, we have decided to sentence Draco Malfoy to 5 years of probation." 
Hermione couldn't help it. "What?" she gasped. She wasn't the only one who was shocked, she was just the one who verbalised it. 
"A valid statement, Miss Granger," Kingsley said. "It was, indeed, a very brutal deliberation. But considering that many prominent members of the Order, of Hogwarts and of the war effort have shown up today in defence of this man; considering the gravity of the deeds he has done, Draco Malfoy is to be released from custody and is to serve 5 years of probation. The Trace shall take effect once more and any dark spells used will result in his probation being rendered null and void. He will be reprimanded to Azkaban. But until that happens, if it ever happens, at the end of the 5-year period, Draco Malfoy will be a free man."