Chapter 1

"Miss Granger I need you to calm down."

"I am perfectly amicable," Hermione huffed, the stray strands around her face bobbing free of the bun at the back of her head. "It's you that's making the fuss."

"Now, now, what's all this?" A tall man interrupted the two squabbling lawyers.

"Ah good, Mr. Trist, I'm here upon my summons to oversee prisoner eight-four-seven,"

The irritating man in front of Hermione spoke. She had been trying to talk sense into him for the last ten minutes without any luck whatsoever. Truthfully, she wanted to strangle his overly large and pompous neck.

"And you are?"

"Pierce Kroms, sir. Here is the letter I received from the minister himself." Kroms handed Trist a neatly folded up piece of parchment. After perusing it Trist gave it back.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing here?" Trist turned to Hermione.

"Sir, I have formally requested, several times, that prisoner eight-four-seven be switched to my care, both via correspondence and personal meetings."

"What makes you qualified to take that responsibility miss-?"

"Granger," Hermione said irritably. "I have extensive knowledge about prisoner eight-four-seven and have tried, practically in vain, to contact you and others in charge of my interest in taking his case." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, heat spread throughout her body in rage and embarrassment.

Both men towered over her and seemed to look down their nose at her. Silly girl, she could practically see them think. She would not let them trample over her, this was her case, this was her client! Or at least, he was going to be. Determined she straightened her shoulders and looked Trist straight in the eye.

"I am not leaving here until I am at least considered. The ministry has handed prisoner eight-four-seven a standard ministry lawyer without letting him have any say in who speaks his case. I feel he deserves more than that."

Trist raised a classy eyebrow. "Do you?" His tone was haughty and Hermione realised that she should have worded that better around them. "Well, the criminal hardly deserves much of anything except what he has coming to him. But the ministry has been lenient so far and has allowed him a lawyer. Why on earth would you wish to take his case?"

Hermione pursed her lips, she wanted to punch the man. "Because it is my job."

"Ah, but alas miss Granger, you are mistaken," Kroms piped in. "It is my job."

Scratch that, Hermione wanted to punch both of them.

"Excuse me?" This time a boy, or what looked like an intern at least, his face completely covered in zits that Hermione could hardly hold back her pity for him. "Mr Trist? He's in the holding room, sir, the guard just finished cuffing him."

"Thank you," Trist dismissed the boy and waved for Kroms to follow. They both walked off but Hermione was not finished.

"Mr. Trist you can't possibly ignore me in this way. I am professionally more capable and much better suited to take on this case."

"Miss Gringer I advise you to leave now, this is none of your business and I will soon not hesitate to call security."

"It's Granger," Hermione seethed through her teeth. "And you don't seem to comprehend the severity of what you're doing. Four other cases such as these have been handled by ministry given officials and all four of them were sentenced in favour of the ministry. Two of those resulted in the kiss. I plead with you now,"

They had all stopped by a door marked with the letter 2, Trists' hand on the doorknob already. "Miss please-"

"No!" Hermione slashed her hand with finality through the air just as Trist opened the door just a smidge. "This man's life is at stake and I am capable of saving it. I sincerely doubt that Mr. Kroms here can say the same."

Trist hesitated looking at her with an almost bored expression. Glancing up and behind her he said: "Tilly, please call security and get them to escort Miss Granger out as she has no business being here."

"You can't just-"

"Let her in."

They all jumped. The sound had come from the other side of door number 2. The voice was ragged, almost cracked. Like you'd sound after two weeks of sore throat or smoking six packs of cigarettes. The three of them stood stock still, not daring to move or even breathe. They simply stared.

"Let her in." The voice said again, this time firmer than before.

Hermione came to her senses first, throwing her shoulders back and keeping her head high, sneering down her nose at the two men as she went past them into the room.

Malfoy sat on one of three chairs in the room, his hands were chained to a steel ring fastened on the table. His appearance was… disheartening, to say the least for Hermione. Five years in Azkaban had worn away at his body. His cheeks were hollowed in and his bones protruding anywhere they could. The prison uniform seemed two sizes too big and Hermione could hardly imagine how much weight he had lost in the past five years.

"Is that necessary?" Hermione asked Trist, gesturing to the chains on the table as he took to one of chairs. Kroms followed them inside, looking at her with a sneer. Neither he nor Hermione took the last free chair.

"Yes," Trist said simply. "Mr. Malfoy," Trist continued, ignoring Hermione. "This is your assigned Lawyer, Pierce Kroms." Trist gestured to him.

Malfoy looked to Kroms, his face placid. As Hermione watched him she realised that she would rather have wanted to see the familiar scorn in his eyes, or any kind of feeling at all instead of the glazed way he stared as if he weren't all there. There was a pregnant pause as Malfoy observed Kroms before he turned back to Trist.

"I don't want him."

"Excuse me?" Trist's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "He's all you're getting. Don't forget Mr. Malfoy that the ministry is doing you a favour by providing you with-"

"I realise, Mr. Trist," Malfoy said his name as if it were poison on his lips, practically spitting it over his dry, cracked lips. "But I would rather have miss Granger as my lawyer."

Now it was Hermione's turn to be surprised. She really hadn't expected Malfoy to want her to be his lawyer. Actually she had expected him to sneer at her and tell her to keep her mudblood nose out of his business.

"Mr. Malfoy, please try and be reasonable," Kroms shot in. "If this is a matter of experience I can fetch my-"

Malfoy held up his hand to stop him, the chains clinking at the movement. "It's not, Mr. Kroms. I can assure you that it is only a matter of preference."

Hermione cleared her throat, feeling like Malfoy's own cracked and dry voice was somehow transfering onto her. "By law Mr. Malfoy is allowed to have a lawyer of his own choosing, as I'm sure you are aware of Mr. Trist."

Trist's mouth formed a tight line on his face and he glared daggers at her. "I'm aware."

"Then you should also be aware of the fact that Mr. Malfoy has now verbalised his displeasure of his given lawyer and mentioned another that he wishes to take his case." Hermione could hardly keep herself from gloating.

Trist's face was gradually turning red, as if he were about to boil over from anger. His gaze snapped to Kroms. "I believe your services are no longer needed Mr. Kroms. I must ask you to leave the premises."

Kroms jaw dropped. "But… you… he… she…" He pursed his lips, levelled another glare at Hermione before turning around, leaving and slamming the door in his wake.

Hermione slipped into the chair beside Trist, sitting opposite Malfoy who still hadn't looked at her. She put her binder on the table, straightening the files within.

"Mr. Malfoy," Trist began, reciting a speech he most likely knew by heart. "After having finished your initial five year penance in Azkaban prison for your crimes, you are eligible for probation. Your hearing will take place on September 1st, 10am sharp, ten weeks from now."

Malfoy's gaze was on his bound wrists while Trist spoke and Hermione felt inclined to stare at them as well. His hands were dirty, grime stuck under his nails, and they looked uncomfortably dry. Hermione's gaze moved up to his face which was now framed by his hair, reminding her of Professor Snape. It was no longer groomed but lay slack and unkempt, many strands were stuck together, almost forming small dreadlocks here and there. Hermione wondered how long it had been since he showered or ate properly.

"Do you have any questions?"

Malfoy shook his head.

"Splendid." Trist turned to her. "You have fifteen minutes to talk with your client before he is escorted back to his cell in Azkaban." Trist stood and left the room.

Uncomfortable, yes, that's how Hermione felt. Trying to hide her nerves by straightening out the pages sticking out here and there from her binder. Where to begin? Well, looking at him might be an alright start, you could do it earlier. But then he wasn't as likely to look back. Buck up, Hermione.

"So," Hermione said. "Thank you for picking me to be your lawyer, I've been trying-"

"Granger," Malfoy said, stopping her before she could go on a full-on rant. "I only picked you to piss of Trist. That bloody wanker has had it out for me since I got here and payback felt good. Perhaps a bit petty, but a good slap in the face more than I can usually do."

"Oh." Hermione deflated. "But I'm still here to work on your case, and as such-"

"What case? Granger, as I'm sure you're aware, I am a lost cause. I know it, Trist knows it, the Ministry knows it. They gave me a five-year-sentence and hoped I would die. Now that I haven't they'll just give me the kiss and be done with it. So, why bother?"

"Why… why bother?" Hermione felt the ire rise from her stomach up to her throat. "B-b-because!"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, which was slightly reassuring although irritating. At least he was showing emotion. "How very articulate of you, Granger."

"I am trying to save your life!"

"And I'm telling you it's a waste of time."

"How can you say that? How can you say your life isn't worth saving?"

"Because it isn't."

"Of course it is," Hermione said, standing from her chair, needing to pace. "Every life is worth saving. And there are many ways to look at this. You were young when you were brought in to the Death Eaters, manipulated, steered in the wrong direaction. You didn't mean to, I mean, you were coerced. You didn't do anything incriminating."

Malfoy stared at her with hard eyes, his fists clenched together in their binds.

"You've already served your sentence, you've payed enough for your crimes-"

"How would you know?" His tone was dark and low, menacing. "What do you know of my 'crimes', Granger?"

"Well I-I, I read your file and the transcripts of your past hearings…"

"Ah so you read a little text on a piece of paper, how very thoughtful of you. But let me fill you in on the things not written in that file." Malfoy slowly rose from his chair, his hands staying by the table, held down by the chains. He leaned forward and Hermione sat back down in her chair, trying not to show her fear. "I am a criminal. I am a murderer and I am a Death Eater."

Hermione shook her head, ready with the speech she had been thinking of for the past two years.

"To those people I am those things and nothing else. I am scum. I am dirt." His mouth twitched into a terrifing smirk, devoid of feeling. "Ironic, isn't it? That I would call you mudblood through our schoolyears and now my family line, the pure blood that runs through my veins, is looked at in that light. No, Granger. I am not worth saving because it is a losing battle. The cards are stacked against me. The system is rigged. So I will get the kiss, my soul will be sucked out of my body and there will be no one there to mourn my passing. No grieving figure standing above my grave as they hurl me into the welcoming abyss."

Hermione swalloed. "It's not like that, I can-"

"You can do NOTHING!" Malfoy yelled at her. "Not your bossy tone or your insipid books can help you now because I am not Weasley or Potter," he said, spitting the names out like venom. "I am not someone to be saved, I am not someone that can be saved. So piss off."