paulasubtle
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The judge seems to realise that he has come to a decision. “I’ll ask again: why did you not give away Mr Potter’s identity that night in Malfoy Manor?”
He steels himself, draws in a breath and looks at her. All pretence and shame and burden vanishing as he readies himself for his confession. A sentence of a different kind than the court can order.
“Because I am in love with him.” And for the first time in what feels like months, his voice does not waver.
Lightbulbs flash from the press section and there is a collective drawing in of breath, that of which Draco had only read in books. Conversations erupt. He does not flinch nor cow but remains focused on the judge. She studies him for a moment, bangs the gavel and clears her throat.
“For how long?”