****Hey everyone! I'm back to writing, so please, please, PLEASE R&R – it means a lot. Of course, all credit for this story goes to JK Rowling, the legend she is. Enjoy!****
The soles of my pointed shoes clapped against the cool, dark floor. Small circles of yellow light, reflecting the floating candles above, scattered the tiles at regular intervals. As my shoe obscured one of the reflections, breaking the pattern, I gripped the thick case file closer to my chest. I continued to march purposefully towards the courtroom, repeating the mantra that had been incessantly echoing in my tightly coiled brain for the past two weeks.
You're going to be fine. Relax.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, remembering why I was doing this. The oxygen flowed in and out, bringing a calming sensation I associated with sleep. The memory came with ease.
No less than a fortnight ago, a client had approached me in my large, clinical Ministry office. The haughty woman had sat herself stiffly in the chair opposite my desk, flicked her long, black hair over her pinstriped shoulder and placed her white-dragon leather purse on my desk.
"Hermione." She had said, dispassionately. "How long it's been."
"Pansy, what a surprise!" I placed my quill back onto my desk, adjusting myself in my chair, "How are you? Have you been keeping well since the days of Hogwarts?"
"I've been…" She had faltered here, not quite meeting my questioning eyes, "adequate, thank you. To be frank, I am here for business purposes only, so I would appreciate if we could drop the small-talk. My parents referred me to you, having heard your prowess in the field of Magical Law, so overlooking previous disagreements, I have come to receive your services. I trust you know that Draco Malfoy and I have been dating?"
Her steely emerald eyes shielded her evident displeasure of the current situation, and her tight lipped smile was forced. It was clear that I was her last resort. She appeared to have aged considerably from her days as the school harlot. Deep creases permanently lined her pale forehead and her beautifully sleek hair was irrevocably in place.
Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were notorious in the public eye. Seen as lucky escapees from the harsher judgment cast on fellow associates with death eaters, their movements were tracked incessantly. They were the foxes in the chicken pen of the Ministry.
"I was aware of your relationship, yes."
She nodded, acknowledging my words. "I suppose I should start from after our graduation, following the Battle of Hogwarts. As you undoubtedly know, we had been dating since the third year."
Although I was sceptical of Malfoy's involvement in Pansy's third year crush, I nodded my understanding of their high school relationship. Pansy may have told everyone they were an item in the third year, but I suspect nothing occurred between them until the fifth.
"Well, our relationship had continued, rather successfully, until I discovered something quite disturbing, about three weeks ago. I was walking through the Manor, looking for Draco, when I noticed a hidden switch on the mantel of the fireplace. Thinking Draco was concealing something from me, I pressed the small switch, revealing a staircase leading beneath the drawing room. As I entered room below, I was engulfed in darkness, so I lit up my wand. When the wand tip ignited, I saw Dean Thomas, from our year - you know, the muggle-born - bound and gagged in the corner of the room. He was incredibly thin and scarcely breathing. Completely taken aback and, honestly, scared, I screamed for Draco. When he saw where I was, kneeling in front of Dean, he seemed utterly furious and told me to leave. I begged him to explain but he- he slapped me and yelled for me to get out." A gleam of shame glinted in her defiant eyes, "So, I left him and Dean and went to my parent's place. The next day I saw in The Prophet that Dean had died in St Mungos, and I knew I had to tell someone. So, here I am."
She finished her story with a discontented sigh, folding her hands in her lap.
I remembered the day that Dean had died. The Daily Prophet had released a small tribute to Dean, acknowledging his contribution to the Battle of Hogwarts and discussing his mysterious death. The article had stated that Dean was admitted to St Mungos, beaten and dying of malnutrition, by an unknown wizard. He had apparated Dean into the waiting room and disapparated before anyone recognised him, maintaining an anonymous status. Everyone had assumed Dean's attack was made by a supporter of Lord Voldemort, attempting to uphold his pureblood beliefs. Dean was muggle-born, after all.
"I see. Well, as interesting as this information is to me, Pansy, I am unsure why you have come to me. I may work for Magical Law Enforcement but I do not personally investigate crimes, unless a client has reason to believe they have been wronged. I help cheated witches and wizards find compensation for their losses. What loss have you had? Why do you need my help?"
Pansy couldn't restrain her annoyance as she retorted, "Just a loss of faith, Hermione. While I want Draco to be punished for his crimes against Dean, frankly, his betrayal is my main concern and I wouldn't object to seeing him suffer. You might think I'm just a spoilt pureblood," she leaned in further over the desk between us, her hands splayed on the hard wood, "but I have real feelings too. Feelings that I need to act upon. He killed a man, Hermione." Here, she regained her composure, taking a deep breath and leaning carefully back into the chair, folding her hands in her lap once again. "Evidently, with no concern for me."
Before I could gather my thoughts, I had reached the doorway to the courtroom.
You'll be fine. Relax.
One big breath, and I was through the grand wooden doors.
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