Notes: "Rendezvous" was part VI, not VII. I apologize for the error, but I’m too lazy to correct it. ^-^

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

by Pata
 
 

Chapter 7
Killing an Angel
 

The multi-toned buzz of conversation ceased immediately as I entered the courtroom. I felt their
eyes on my back as I strode up the aisle to seat myself in the chair directly in front of the seven
justices.

The head judge held up a hand for silence, but it was unnecessary; all talking had stopped at my
presence. "Mr. Malfoy," he said slowly, "you are unfamiliar with the procedure for a memory
interface, yes?"

I nodded, swallowing. "Correct, Justice. I have never had a memory interface before." I stopped,
swallowing again. "Much less a live one."

The judge folded his hands, looking from me to Hermione and quickly back again. "The operation
is quite simple. I will use a spell to open your memory, and will personally select important or
exceptionally potent memories to project. Once a memory is selected, it will be ‘watched’ and
‘experienced’, if you will, by all those present." Here he paused, waiting for a reaction, but I didn’t
give him one.

He continued, "They will feel your emotions as you felt them. They will see it exactly as you saw
it, they will hear what you said, think what you thought, know what you knew. Once I am in your
head, Mr. Malfoy…"

He smiled, the triumphant look written all too plainly across his face.

"…nothing will be secret."

Hermione looked ready to faint again, but Harry carefully wrapped his arms around her. He
mouthed to me, Just enough for a deterrent.

I nodded, showing my consent. He brushed his lips again Hermione’s ear, making it look like a
kiss while whispering softly, "To keep the judges of Draco’s trail."

I smiled, just barely. Hermione always got mad when Harry called me Malfoy. She played along,
running her hands through his hair as she had done so many times for me. Their actions soon
caught the attention of one of the judges, a younger woman with pale red hair and blue eyes. She
cleared her throat, but Harry and Hermione kept up their charade.

"If you two are quite finished," she said rudely to them, "we’d like to get on with the trial."

Harry hastily released Hermione, who had to bury her face in his back to stifle her impending
giggles. "Yes, Justice," Harry slurred, pretending to be greatly embarrassed.

The head justice placed a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, removing his wand from the
inner folds of his brilliant red robes. He pointed it directly at me, murmuring several nonsensical
words that I didn’t quite catch.

And then, in a blinding flash of light and a sharp intake of breath, everything that had ever
happened to me raced across my line of vision. I saw images of my mother and father, of myself,
of pets, of house elves, of spells and girls and people and gold and possessions. I could feel the
presence of another, one who wasn’t supposed to be there, inside my head.

The judge. The judge was in my head, sifting through thoughts and emotions and memories. I
could feel it as he selected one, and then, in an instant, it was playing out in front of me as though
it was actually happening.

*

At first, the image was flickering and pale, but it faded into focus like a projector coming to speed.
It depicted a younger me, maybe four, chasing after my father. He was dressed in his best green
robes, his hand tipped in a sexy way on the side of his head, dark hair parted and combed neatly.

*

I remembered this. My father was going out to a meeting, and it was our family’s last night together
before he left. He wouldn’t be returning for a month.

Of course, as I realized this the rest of the courtroom did as well. I shook my head. This wasn’t
happing to me.

And yet, there I was. Little me, running after a father who took one stride for every six of mine.

*

He stopped to talk to my mother. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back, and she was
dressed in casual clothing.

"Goodbye, Lucius," she said, kissing him delicately on the mouth.

He smiled at her. "I’m not going to die, Narcissa. I’ll be back before you know it."

This provided the ideal opportunity for four-year-old me to catch up to my father. "Daddy,
Daddy," I chirped.

He ignored me. He rushed off in a swirl of cloak and robes. I ran after him. "Bye-bye Daddy!"
I called. "I love you!"

I grabbed the arm of his robe, tugging on it. "Daddy, why aren’t you answering?" I tugged harder,
grasping with my tiny hands. "I love you!"

My father stopped walking and looked down at me. Slowly, he said in his coldest tone, "I know."

And then he kept right on walking, shaking my younger self off his arm and knocking me flat on
my butt. I stared after him for a long while after he had disappeared from view, tears moistening
my glistening sky-colored eyes.

*

The memory faded. I felt tears coming back to those same blue-gray orbs at the remembrance
of my father's astonishing cruelty toward me. Surprisingly, my father did not stand up or protest.
His mouth was open in shock and rage. My mother clutched his arm almost fearfully.

I shook my head, wiping away the tears. Even though the image had gone, the pain remained.
Never once, not ever after that or ever in my life, had my father told me he loved me.

"Well, Lucius," said the head judge in a quiet, awed tone. "You have the right to respond to that."

My father couldn’t speak for anger. He just sat, mouth half-open, eyes unblinking. Finally he
bobbed his head as to clear it. His tone was inconspicuously snide as he replied, "I’ll waive that
right. I have nothing to say, Justice."
 
 
 

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Chapter 8