He wasn't desperate. In order to be desperate you had to have something you still wanted. Something that you thought was worth hanging on for, someone. He wasn't desperate. There was nothing for him in this world any longer. There was nothing he wanted to do or wanted to see. There was nothing he wanted to happen in his life, maybe except for it to finally end and give him the one thing he wouldn't mind having: peace.
He looked at his long, pale fingers. They had felt the exhilaration of life in form of a broom handle. He had loved flying. He might miss it. He had felt the softness of life when touching the skin if a girl. He wouldn't miss the girls he had touched. They had only ever been temporary distractions. None of them had touched him the way he would have loved them to touch him, with their heart, not just their body. The pleasure between the sheets had been okay. He frowned. Even the most intimate thing two people could share had never really been what he had wanted. Not the way he had got it in any case.
He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His hair could do with a wash, he knew. He didn't care though. His good looks had gotten him a lot of things over the years, but they hadn't helped him when it really mattered. When he had been thinking about what his life would be like in the future it seemed of no significance what he looked like. It was of no importance any longer, if his robes were tailor made and well fitting or just of the shelf. Where he was going nobody would be present to see him regardless of what he would be wearing.
There were voices muttering around him. He didn't listen. He didn't need to. They would find him guilty. He was wearing the Mark and therefore he was guilty. The fact that he had been forced into accepting it or the truth about him not being a Death Eater at heart was of no consequence. The Mark equalled guilt and with this guilt came only one punishment. He frowned. Had he ever seriously entertained the thought that somebody, anybody, would speak up for him? Who would be wanting to do that? He had been taunting and harassing his house mates. He had been doing the same with anybody he found to weak to hit back. There would be nobody interested in saving him.
A soft voice had started to speak, a soft female voice. He didn't listen. She would be saying the same thing like all the other witnesses. There was no point wasting precious time to listen. After a moment he realised that only the female voice could be heard now. He frowned. All day long there had been always several people talking. Now only she could be heard.
He slowly raised his head and looked up. There in front of him with her back to him was a young witch. She had brown, wavy hair. It was slightly unruly. She was dressed in a crisp, dark business suit. The skirt was reaching just over her knees. The jacket was unbuttoned and he could see the light colour of the shirt as she pointed to her right and the cuff was showing.
She was talking about him being the victim of his upbringing. He raised his head a bit more. Why was she doing this? The futility and circumstance of his education before Hogwarts was mentioned. The home were a maniac like his aunt Bellatrix would be visiting freely was described so accurately that he felt himself shiver. Who was this woman? And why was she defending him?
He was sitting upright now, listening to every word she said. It wasn't before the description of the events at the Manor during that fateful day the Snatchers had brought Potter and his friends that he seriously started to wonder about the identity of his defender. There were only a handful of people that knew about him lying to his father and aunt about him knowing, if Potter was one of the captives or not. He had been trying his best not to get roped into something that he knew could only end with the death of his classmates.
Who was she? His brain wasn't really willing to start working again, but he found that even if he hadn't entered this courtroom in desperation, he might just leave in that state. Desperation meant he had found something to cling on to after all. It just happened to be this female standing in front of him.
The description she gave off the torture of... He hesitated even thinking her name. Granger. Hermione. It felt strange, but strangely soothing. The knowledge that it was her defending him caused an avalanche of emotions. He felt guilty about what he had done to her over the years. He was glad that he had tried to safe her life even so he hadn't been able to safe her from his aunt using the Cruciatus Curse on her. For a moment he was wondering, if he dare hope. Hope that he might get a fair trail after all. The Wizengamut would take notice of what she was saying. To have her as his defender was more than he would have thought possible.
She turned and looked at him. Her brown eyes piercing his soul. He tried to hide, to become invisible anything to escape her scrutiny. Her gaze held his without effort. He felt his heart skipping several beats as she told the court that she would be vouching and taking responsibility for him in case that a suspended sentence could be agreed upon. With utter amazement he found the witches and wizard around the room conversing with each other about this proposal. They were considering to let him walk on her word alone?
Desperation had turned into hope without him noticing. He wanted for his judges to let her have her way. He wanted to will them to do it. With all his heart he begged the powers that be for him to be given this chance to proof that he wasn't a willing follower of Voldemort. He was determined to do everything within his power to show them, to show her, that he was as good as she believed him to be.
Her gaze hadn't left his eyes while she had been asking for him to be given to her. She didn't even blink. There was a smile in her eyes that was absent from her face. He saw it though. It was her way of encouraging him, but he could also feel the promise behind it of what she would be doing to him should he dare disappoint her. He wouldn't! Not as long as he was still breathing. He would do his utmost that she would never regret her decision.
He signed papers, got his wand back and was standing next to her in the corridor before he knew what was happening. He had walked! She had really pulled it off and got him a suspended sentence. How did she managed it? He couldn't say, but he couldn't care less right now. He was going to have to get his life back together.
She was talking to him. He realised too late that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. He had been too absorbed in his own thoughts. What had she just said? He frowned. Looking at her he could see that she had realised it as well. She took a deep breath. Was she going to hex him? It has just been...
"You are going to live with me for the next year. " She said in a calm voice. He fainted.
A/N I haven't abundant my other stories. I just needed to occupy my mind with something else for a while.