Chapter 21
(Draco’s POV)
The tension in the Ministry’s chamber had not yet dissipated. Even as the initial shock of Hermione’s collapse began to fade, the atmosphere was thick with retribution. I could still feel the reverberations of Ron’s rage—his fists, his hateful words—all of which now hung heavy in the air like an accusation.
I stood beside Hermione as she slowly began to stir on the cold marble floor, her eyes fluttering open. Draco’s heart pounded as I watched Ron, who now glared at us from across the table. His once-unassailable façade was crumbling; his eyes, red and wild, betrayed the fear he was trying desperately to mask.
Before any further words could be exchanged, the Minister, who had been silently watching, slammed his gavel onto the table.
“Mr. Weasley,” he intoned in a measured tone that brooked no argument, “your actions have gone far beyond acceptable behavior. Abuse—especially of a spouse—cannot be tolerated in our community. You are hereby placed under arrest, and an investigation will commence immediately.”
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor. Aurors entered the room, their expressions grim and determined. Ron’s defiant sneer faltered for an instant as two Aurors stepped forward and grasped his arms, restraining him.
“Ron, you’re coming with us,” one of them said curtly.
He struggled, cursing under his breath, but the firm grip of the Aurors left him no room for further resistance. I watched as the man who had once exuded so much control was forcefully led toward the exit, his protests mingling with angry shouts. Potter’s expression was a mixture of regret and a dawning clarity—a realization, perhaps too late, that he had sided with the wrong person all these years.
Theo’s eyes flickered with a mix of dark amusement and satisfaction. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to ruin a man’s day,” he murmured under his breath, though his tone held a note of gravity.
I felt my chest tighten as I looked at Hermione—her wide, frightened eyes, the bruises still visible on her face, the tremor in her hands. For a long moment, I silently vowed that we would protect her from now on, that her pain would no longer be hidden in the shadows.
The Minister continued, “This matter will be investigated thoroughly. Abuse is not only morally reprehensible—it is a crime punishable by law.” His words, heavy with finality, echoed in the silent chamber.
I turned to Hermione, kneeling beside her. “Hermione,” I said softly, “you’re safe now. This is the beginning of the end for his tyranny over you.” Her eyes searched mine for a moment, and though they were still filled with fear, I saw a glimmer of resolve there.
Hermione’s voice was barely a whisper as she replied, “It’s finally happening… I’m free.”
Potter, who had watched the scene unfold with a haunted expression, finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, almost to himself, as if the weight of his misplaced loyalty was crushing him. “I never should’ve…”
He trailed off, lost in the enormity of what had just occurred.
Theo clapped his hands together, trying to inject a note of dark humor into the crushing reality. “Well, I always did say that actions speak louder than words. Looks like Weasley just spoke his last, and we all know it wasn’t in our favor.”
I managed a tight smile despite the turmoil inside me. “This isn’t about vengeance,” I said quietly, “it’s about justice. And it’s about ensuring that Hermione never has to endure that kind of pain again.”
As the Aurors escorted Ron out of the chamber and the door closed behind him, the room remained heavy with the silence of consequences unfolding. I could feel the foundations of Ron’s carefully built world collapsing around him—a world built on lies, manipulation, and abuse. Today, the truth had finally surfaced. In that sterile Ministry room, as I looked into Hermione’s eyes and saw not just fear but a tentative hope for the future, I knew that this reckoning was only the beginning. The road ahead would be long, filled with legal battles, emotional healing, and perhaps, the slow rebuilding of trust with those who once turned their backs on her. But in this moment, with the sound of Ron’s distant shouts fading away, and with Potter’s remorseful gaze lingering, I silently vowed that Hermione’s freedom—and her voice—would be restored. No more would she be forced into silence. No more would she be a victim. The reckoning had begun, and I would ensure that justice, however painful, prevailed.