She walked down the Ministry corridor, head held high despite the whispers from the other occupants. Her destination was Interrogation Room 3. She had volunteered for this, and, regardless of any misgivings, she couldn't very well change her mind at this juncture. Not one other person had wanted the job. No one wanted to defend him in fear that they themselves would appear guilty. Everyone had the right to be defended in trial; he was no different. While she wasn't, by profession, a Defender, she liked to think of herself more than capable of taking on the task. Plus, there wasn't much chance that anyone would suspect Hermione Granger of being an accomplice to Draco Malfoy.
This is going to be tough, Hermione. Just remain composed and cool-headed and you'll make it through this.
She stopped as it was clear that she had reached her destination. Standing outside were two guards and they nodded slightly in way of greeting. She took a deep breath and glanced through the small window of the door, and was shocked at the sight before her. There sitting at the table was not the man she once knew as Draco Malfoy. She was suddenly reminded of Sirius. The long unwashed hair hanging like lengths of yarn, tattered, over-large clothing on a malnourished body, and that face…the face of someone who had seen the hells of Azkaban. His head was lowered and his hands were bound behind the chair in which he was sitting. I'm going to be the last person in the world he wishes to see, she thought.
One of the guards cleared his throat. She looked over to him and nodded. She stepped back as he opened the door for her. She stepped into the room and looked at its prisoner. Grey eyes stared at her through a mass of filthy, brownish hair. Oh, goodness, he looked angry at the world.
"Did you lose your way, Mudblood?" His voice sounded gruff as though it hadn't been used for some time.
She ignored the insult and went to the side hutch to pour two glasses of water. Walking back to the table, she set one in front of him. "No, Draco. I've volunteered to defend you at the trial." That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, if she could continue on in this manner, she'd be fine.
A growl erupted in his throat. She winced slightly. "Perfect. Just perfect. Come to insure I get the Kiss, Granger?" He paused. Then, "I don't believe I gave you permission to use my given name."
She made sure not to drop her mask of composure. She couldn't show weakness or he'd eat her alive. She had come here to do a job and she planned to succeed. "I figured we were two mature adults, and could address each other as such."
"Speak for yourself!" he sneered. Then quickly looked away when he realized what that implied.
Smiling to herself, she decided to ignore his slip. "Getting back to business, I'd like to explain why I'm here." Taking a steadying breath, she continued, "Not one other person came forward to defend you because they were cowards—they were afraid that they would be linked to you in some way and punished accordingly. Not many people are brave enough to defend a suspected killer, especially if the man on trial is you. Everyone deserves to be defended…especially against crimes they didn't commit." And now his reaction. Will he believe me?
It seemed he was struck speechless because he didn't say anything for several minutes. "You're not very funny, Granger. You've played your joke and now you can leave."
"This isn't a joke. I truly believe you're innocent, otherwise I wouldn't have wasted my time." He remained silent, but his penetrating stare was disconcerting her. "May I sit?"
Without looking away from her, he nodded briefly. Be thankful for small victories, Hermione.
She sat in the chair across from him and set her bag down on the floor. "Are you thirsty? Would you like me to unbind your hands so you can have some water?"
"I don't need your pity, Granger." Argh.
"I was attempting to be kind. Forgive me, it won't happen again." She reached down to pull her scroll of notes from her bag. "I've made some preliminary notes for the case. Here I have documented eye-witnesses that can attest to your whereabouts during the murder. It took some time but I finally managed to convince them to testify on your behalf. I have also written theories that could prove you're innocent without the need of testimony. We'll see how it goes, but I feel confident that, once the Ministry hears the information I've compiled, they will have no choice but to let you go free." I've worked hard on this, Malfoy, so choose your words wisely.
"You're serious, then? You really mean to defend me…" he looked baffled. She nodded in confirmation. "But you hate me…"
"I don't hate you, Draco. I don't especially like you or approve of things that you've done, but I've never really hated you. 'Hate' is such a strong term, and I doubt I've ever felt that strongly towards you," she explained. I sometimes wish I could you hate you, though.
This seemed to surprise him. "What then would you call years of shared animosity," he asked skeptically.
She rolled her eyes. Let's get this out of the way. "Well, first of all, had I not been friends with Ron or Harry, you would have never noticed my existence. Let's face it. Harry Potter turned away your friendship when you offered it, and he had the attention you craved. Ron Weasley, whom you considered inferior, managed to secure Harry's friendship when you couldn't. Of course, you were resentful. You were 11 and obviously not used to being denied something you wanted. Because I was their friend, you immediately disliked me as well. Being muggle-born just added fuel to the fire. You didn't bother me much while I was alone, only when I was with either Ron or Harry. School bullies are not unusual. I think now it's just out of habit that you boys continue to snipe at each other."
Sometime in the middle of her speech, he had turned away to gaze over her shoulder. She was surprised when he didn't sneer at her in disgust.
Clearing her throat, she returned to business. "Did you have anyone in mind that you think should be called as a character witness? I only know a few of your friends from school, but it's been years since then."
He slowly shook his head as if to clear it before looking her in the eye. "I suppose you can call Crabbe or Goyle as a witness. Whatever you think is best." This isn't going bad at all. Besides being a mean-tempered, petty bully, he really isn't so bad. She allowed herself a small smile at that.
While making more notes on her scroll, she thought about the two buffoons suggested. If they only had a brain, she sung to herself.
Malfoy choked. She looked up alarmed. His face was twitching as though he was keeping himself from laughing…or, in his case, yelling. She reddened slightly. She must have said that last bit out loud.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have insulted your friends," she said, looking embarrassed. One step forward, two steps back. Great job, Hermione.
He opened his mouth to reply and she braced herself for an argument. "I'll take that drink of water now, Granger."
She smiled slightly at him. With a wave of her wand, she released his right hand. She looked away pretending to inspect her notes while he grasped the glass and drank from it greedily.
He set the glass aside pulling himself upright. He moved his hair from his face and placed his hand on the table in front of him. He looks as we're doing nothing more than having afternoon tea.
Remembering she had brought him a gift, she reached into her bag. "For the trial, I thought you might want these," she said as she pulled out a fresh set of robes.
He just stared at the robes she had set on the table in front of him. Has no one ever done anything nice for him that he doesn't know how to properly react?
She felt herself softening a bit towards him. Just a bit, though. He's still a bastard. Calling people names may not be very kind, but it was very satisfying.
"These are my robes. Where did you get these?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, I have connections. Would you believe I am friends with a former house elf of yours?" She smiled. "I asked him to retrieve the nice black ones you always seem to wear. I assume they're your favorite."
He smirked. Ah, there's the Malfoy I know. "Now, Granger, that was very considerate. One might think you actually care for me. What ever would Potter and Weasley say were they to find out about your little crush."
She refused to let herself blush. "I just thought you would appreciate clean robes after having stewed in filth for the past two and a half weeks. I can always take them back. You can stand in a room full of your peers in tattered rags; it makes little difference to me."
"Calm down. Learn how to take a joke." Then he scrunched up his nose. He mumbled something under his breath.
"I'm sorry—I didn't quite catch that last bit," surely he hadn't said what she thought she heard.
"I said thank you!" he yelled. Then softer, "Just don't take them back."
She smiled at him in earnest. "Well, you're welcome." There's hope for you yet, Draco Malfoy.
She looked at the clock on the wall which still pointed at 'Trial Prep'. Estimating that they still had a couple of hours until they needed to stand before the Ministry, she went about preparing Malfoy. She lectured him on proper decorum for during and after the trial. He had impeccable manners; he just needed to learn to control his inner snob.
After what seemed a short amount of time, one of the guards entered the room to inform her that it was time. She looked at Malfoy, who appeared slightly apprehensive. His usual aloof expression abandoned him at the thought that he could possibly return to his small cell at Azkaban. I'll try not to let you down.
I hope I can pull this off, she thought.
