Author's note: My first story! :) It's longer than I would've liked, and I know the first couple chapters are pretty plot-heavy, but put up with it, I promise it'll get better! Read & review...
Hermione wasn't sure what she'd gotten herself into. She cast a slightly nervous look sideways at Ginny as they walked down Diagon Alley in the fading twilight. Ginny smiled reassuringly back, driving her anxiety up several notches. Why had she agreed to this harebrained scheme in the first place?
"Ginny, I-"
"Don't do this, Hermione. You're the only person who can handle it. You can't let me down."
The response was more harsh than necessary, Hermione decided. Which meant something was definitely up. Ginny was holding some (possibly important?) information back. What was it?
Ginny, on the other hand, thought to herself that this was exactly how she had wanted it to work out. So far, so good. She could enjoy the fruits of her hard work now, after weeks of careful planning.
It all started when, fresh out of Hogwarts four years previously, Ginny had gone to work at the Ministry. She quickly proved her prowess as a prosecutor. The surprisingly large number of Death Eaters that still had to be sent to Azkaban kept the Wizengamot busy. Her practical nature, coupled with just a tiny amount of mercy, made her the ideal lawyer when trying criminal Death Eaters.
Her plan began on a nondescript Tuesday in July. "Morning Susan," she greeted her coworker with a smile, walking into the office. "Abbott," she nodded, and, seeing Ernie MacMillan skulking around a corner, cheerfully waved. "You don't have to hide, silly. We all know you're here to see Hannah." Her former classmates blushed, matching each other in deep shades of red.
Susan chuckled at her bluntness, then added, "Oh, this week will be interesting for you."
"Really? Who's on trial?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"You're kidding. You can't possibly be serious." It really was too good to be true.
"See for yourself." She tossed the case file over to Ginny, who deftly caught it with one hand.
"Wonderful," she breathed. It was time for revenge.
A couple of hours later, she found herself in front of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic – and a pale-haired, pale-faced boy with a permanent smirk etched on the jowls of his long, thin face.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are here under charges of…"
Ginny knew the drill by heart, and decided to tune it out for a bit in favor of mentally running through what she wanted to happen, and how she would make it work. When she was finally called up to the stand, she did not begin explaining the charges as everyone expected. "Perce-er, Minister, I request a meeting with the defendant. In private," she added, just in case that wasn't implicitly understood.
Percy Weasley look baffled for a moment, then leaned over to have a whispered conversation with his undersecretary, Ernie MacMillan. "Yes, Miss Weasley, that can be arranged."
Ginny repressed a snort. She still couldn't get over being called "Miss Weasley" by her own brother, even if he was the Minister of all witches and wizards in Britain. There was work to be done, though, and she couldn't afford distractions.
A few minutes later, she found herself face to face with the man himself in an old, dusty, empty meeting room on the lower levels of the Ministry. Only a desk sat between her and Draco Malfoy, and it was hard for Ginny to not lean conspiratorially towards him.
Draco smirked. "Ginny Weasley. I ought to have known. You and your blood-traitor family seem to have effectively infiltrated the ministry."
"I'm not here to make small talk, Malfoy."
"Really? You could have fooled me. I was under the impression we were long lost friends meeting for tea & reacquainting ourselves. And then I remembered you're a Weasley, not fit to shine my shoes with your filthy hands."
Okay, so maybe this wasn't going quite as planned. "Look, convict," she snarled, and he seemed to flinch oh-so-very slightly at the word. "The scales are tipped in my favor now. Look who's Minister. Who's on the Wizengamot. Oh, and did you see the new statues in the Ministry lobby? It's us, the DA. Not you. I'm the prosecutor; I strongly suggest you listen to what I have to say."
"Fine. Shoot. Doesn't mean I have to accept." The smirk never left his face, and Ginny was struck with a strong urge to slap him.
"You give me names, information, and prove that you've changed heart, and I'll get them to reduce your sentence."
"Sentence? Azkaban? Not so fast, Weasley. I could get my hands on a good defense lawyer yet."
"You'd be surprised. All your own cronies are long gone, you know."
Malfoy hadn't considered this. "Who's left?" he asked thoughtfully, weighing his options.
"For defense lawyers? The best one is Brian Creevey. He seems to have the highest success rate."
"Creevey sounds familiar. Weren't there two Gryffindor mudblood brats-"
"He's their relative, if I'm not wrong. Cousin, or something. Colin & Denis, both brave, fine, young muggleborns, were both killed in action during the final battle." Stretching the truth, just a little bit.
Draco brushed aside Ginny's accusatory tone, sarcastically referring to the situation as "unbiased."
"This, biased? This isn't even close to what it was like having the Carrows teach," interjected Ginny hotly.
"Or having Snape as headmaster?" Draco's voice was soft now, sly, almost.
Ginny paused for a moment. "Well, yes. That too. He let it all happen, under his nose, even if he was innocent in the end."
Draco didn't say anything for a while. It seemed as though he was retreating back into himself, unwilling to venture out into the open space between him and Ginny. Then- "What are my other options by way of defense? Not that you'd give me a decent idea, being my prosecutor and all."
Ginny pretended to think. "I could always tell the entire Wizengamot that you've changed heart, and prove it by saying that Harry Potter himself saw fit to save you from the Fiendfyre." She couldn't hold back the smirk.
His pale skin got even paler as he blanched at that idea. "I have no idea what on earth you're talking about, Weasley," he scoffed. "You could at least make some attempt at sense."
She laughed. "I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm talking about, Malfoy. Harry tends to talk to me, from time to time, now that we're engaged, you know." She smiled to herself as she twisted her engagement ring round and round her finger.
The fact that the only way out was admitting that he had been pitied by Harry seemed to anger Draco even more. "So there's no other option? Really."
She looked up, sensing victory was near. "Prove you've had a change of heart. And give us names."
"How am I supposed to go about 'proving' my alleged 'change of heart' that we really don't even know happened? And as for names, you'll have to do a little more than just reduce my sentence."
"Oh, I have some tasks in mind that you should enjoy completing."
"Like what? Interacting with muggles? Oh, the horror." He wasn't being wholly sarcastic.
"Quite simple, really. Prove you're on our side now. Learn to, oh I don't know – be nice? Or polite? Yes, maybe work with some muggles. I'll think up something suitable, don't worry."
"All for a reduction of my sentence?I may be on trial, but I'm still a Malfoy. And you're still a Weasley."
"Figured that out for myself, funnily enough. If you're willing to put yourself at our mercy, then they can't really send you to Azkaban, can they, now?"
"Probation," he murmured, finally understanding. "That's what you're after. You want names, and this change of heart nonsense – and I'll get off free, except I'll be monitored."
Ginny lost all her pretense at this point. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm after."
"The sentence reduction was just a load of dung, wasn't it?"
"Took you a while," she smirked again.
"All right, fine. Say I agree to this deal. What then?"
"We go into the courtroom, and I lay it out in front of the Wizengamot."
"Who's in charge of my probation?"
"I'll see to it personally. Does that make you feel any better?"
"Worse, actually."
Ginny ignored him, rising from her seat, and ending the meeting. Malfoy wasn't to be punished by the law – no, Azkaban was too soft for him. She'd leave him in the hands of some of her very capable friends to pay for his betrayal. Plotting the death of the greatest wizard ever, Albus Dumbledore, was not something one got off with just like that.
They returned to the courtroom. Winning the Wizengamot over with her logical arguments, reasonable compromises, and some amount of feminine charm, Ginny extracted from them everything she wanted. Returning to her office for a somewhat late lunch, she felt it had been an extremely productive day.
That evening, she decided to pay a visit to Hermione's London flat on her way back to the Burrow. She hadn't really had a chance to talk to her, not since Ron and Hermione's recent break up. If you could call it a break up – they had sort of just faded out of existence, quietly, and without any major fuss. Surprisingly, they were still good friends, or so it seemed. It had been a couple of weeks, and Ginny felt that Hermione should be ready to talk about it – she probably needed someone to confide in.
The two young ladies settled down, Ginny with firewhiskey, Hermione with water, on the sofa in Hermione's spacious but homey flat.
Ginny was blunt. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly happened, between you and my freckly git of a brother?"
Hermione laughed at that, staring into the crackling fireplace from where they sat on the couch. "We just… weren't working. It's like…" Her muggle brain wanted to compare beer and wine, but the witch in her knew that would go over Ginny's head. She struggled to accurately translate the analogy. "Well, I guess you could say he talked Quidditch Quarterly, and I spoke Transfiguration Today, you know?"
"You're too smart for him." A smile played on Ginny's lips.
She shrugged. "And he's got the emotional range of a teaspoon. Not exactly what I'm looking for in a significant other."
"Yeah, I would know." There was a pause. "So there wasn't – isn't – anyone else?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and she winced a little at their indelicacy. So soon after - of course the answer was no… right?
Hermione sighed wistfully. "There never will be anyone else. No one else could possibly understand what those months – years – were like. And they've made me who - what - I am. Without being there - they can't understand it, or by extension, me. Only Harry and Ron and maybe you, sometimes, come close to knowing. And Harry and I have never been…"
"Obviously." There was a hint of pride –and triumph? – in Ginny's voice as she spoke of her fiancé. "But still – you're saying that you'll be single forever? That's a bit harsh on yourself, Hermione."
The older girl merely shrugged without responding, indicating the conversation was at an end.
An unoccupied, single Hermione? The thought buzzed around Ginny's brain – there were so many possibilities…
Hermione invited her to stay for dinner, and she gratefully accepted. It had been a long (if satisfying) day, and she knew Hermione was an excellent cook.
Inevitably, the talk turned to work. Hermione was one of the few lucky ones selected to be an Auror – the numbers of Dark-wizard catchers were slowly decreasing; they simply weren't needed anymore. Many of the Death Eaters had been caught, and sent over to Ginny's department - or gotten tangled in the miles of paperwork in between. Lately, the Auror office had been dead.
"We just don't have any leads," Hermione complained. "There are so many people still out there –Thorfinn Rowle. Yaxley. And… ugh. We just have no idea where they're hiding, under what pretense, what alias – who knows?"
Ginny smiled mysteriously. "You never know – sometimes things just, oh, pop up out of nowhere."
Hermione was skeptical. "Like anyone's going to rat out on their friends. They're Death Eaters, whether or not they're under the power of the Wizengamot, the Ministry, the Aurors… It's like nothing's changed!" she ended, frustrated.
"But everything's changed! We're in power now – not them. It makes all the difference in the world, doesn't it?" Ginny set down her fork, perplexed at this new perspective.
"It's not about power! There's still this big divide between them and us – it needs to be bridged – and there's just so much potential – and no one– no one's doing anything about it…" Hermione trailed off hopelessly, quickly tucking back her flyaway hair as it threatened to enter her food. No one ever seemed to understand what she meant. Not even Harry, and especially not Ron.
"What would you say if I had a certain convict who expressed a desire to bridge this gap you're talking about?"
"You mean – a Death Eater – willing to work with a mugg- mudblood like me?" She spat out the word.
"Well – willing isn't the best way to put it. He-er, this convict really has no choice in the matter; the Wizengamot has decided that a change of heart must be shown if this particular person doesn't want to go to Azkaban."
"You're not going to tell me who it is, I see."
"No, not really. I'd rather not scare you off."
Hermione emitted a harsh laugh. "After all that we've been through, me being scared is…" the conversation petered out, and the two friends finished their casserole in silence.
As Ginny left, however, she turned back, to offer her thanks for the meal, the conversation, the space – and to ask if Hermione would really be willing to start some kind of reunification.
After a moment, the bushy-haired witch quietly replied: "It's the only hope we have left, isn't it?" and shut the door.
About a week later, after settling all the paperwork, Ginny met with Draco once again."So, this is how it's going to-"
"I'm not technically a convict anymore, Weasley," he drawled. "I do have some say in this."
"Not really, you don't." She was blunt; there was no time for banter. "You're going to be meeting with a former classmate of yours in about two weeks' time."
"Am I now?"
"If you don't, the Wizengamot will decide that you haven't had any change of heart, and it's off to Azkaban for you. It's in your best interest to act somewhat motivated about the goings-on."
He sighed, cornered yet again by the law. "Fine, I meet some Weasley, or Potter – or god forbid, the mudblood-"
"As a matter of fact, you are going to be meeting Granger," Ginny interjected, quite smugly. "Now, there are a couple of things-"
"Hold it right there. You do not have-"
"Oh, relax, Draco. No one's asking you to marry her," she scoffed. "You're not fit to wipe the slime off her boots." She still maintained a slight hope that if anyone could reform Malfoy, it was Hermione.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but seemed to note that it was the first time she had addressed him by his given name. "You're asking me to wine and dine and sweet-talk the mudblood, and then propose some kind of re-union movement or something sappy, I take it."
"Eventually, yes. I don't expect the first meeting to be that productive; you two will probably spend more time biting each other's heads off more than anything. I don't think she'll be expecting anything nice from you, and she'll be on her guard against anything you have to say. For good reason, too," she added.
"You're setting me up on a blind date with Granger."
"Like I said, you're not fit to wipe the slime off of her boots," she replied nastily.
"And if I say no?"
"Why," cried Ginny in mock surprise. "You must be biased against muggleborns and DA members and the Ministry. That's the only reason you would say no before you've even met her!"
Draco ground his teeth in frustration. It was best to get this over with; perhaps Hermione would reject him completely on the first go, and there would be no blame on his part. That was very probable, he realized. God knows Granger had enough power now, even as a mudblood, to reject him, a Malfoy, of noble pureblood descent. What on earth had the wizarding world come to?
He had no choice but to agree – and so he did. The meeting time was finalized; the location set – a fancy new restaurant on Diagon Alley, Baguettes and Beyond. Hermione was informed of all the details – except who she would be seeing.