ADDITIONAL WARNINGS:

***This story contains an abusive relationship, which is going to unwind throughout the course of this tale. It is based on my own experience of denial, as well as on the experience of women I met while going through it. Some scenes may seem illogical and controversial. However, most of them are based on real-life experiences. I should also state that the story will contain some minor language and suggestive scenes, and/or non-descriptive sexual scenes.***

Consider yourself warned :)

I hope you enjoy the story! Please review, as reviews are my muse's favorite dish :)

Disclaimer: I only own my muses, everything else belongs to JK Rowling.


Chapter 1. The Old Man's Request

Hermione Granger was standing at the Hogwarts gates, holding on to the cold iron rods, trying to catch her breath. She apparated as close to the castle as she could, since the wards - the usual safety precaution - would not let her to apparate directly inside. It was decided by the schools board to leave them intact – for fear or other unknown reasons. Hermione, who still suffered from all the battle memories, was not the one to object.

The muddy old road that led to the great entrance was wet and muddy, immediately threatening to ruin Hermione's beige Louboutins. She mentally thanked Molly Weasley for teaching her shoe-protego charms, as she would hate to see her favorite pair ruined.

Nasty weather for a day so late in June. Heavy clouds covered silky skies, threatening to pour rains all over Scottish highlands. It was wet and foggy, and very different from sunny London Hermione had apparated from a minute ago. With such an entourage Hogwarts looked even more mysterious and magical than ever. At least the winds weren't cold, or else one would think that Flitwick's Advanced Charms class had managed to cast the summer away.

The castle was empty, too quiet for Hermione's liking. She met no students or ghosts on her way to Headmistresses' office; and only the paintings on the walls were gasping loudly as she passed by. The famous gargoyle welcomed Hermione noting, that she was already expected upstairs. As she walked through the wooden doors, she was immediately offered a cup of tea and a warm hug from Professor McGonagall. While they kept in touch in the past few years, it was great to see her old favorite teacher in good health, though, apparently, in a bad mood.

"I understand, you received the owl Albus sent without my knowledge?" said McGonagall, putting the emphasis on the end of the sentence. Professor Dumbledore's portrait coughed, covering up his laughter.

"I guess so," Hermione nodded. "I understand there is something I can do for you. I'll be glad to help, professor."

"Well, it is not us, but rather someone else…" professor Dumbledore suddenly spoke in his usual mysterious manner. "You know, Ms. Granger, that anyone who comes to Hogwarts asking for help will receive it? That is the rule."

"I know, sir," she answered, the feeling of old school times striking her, warming her heart.

"Ms. Granger, there is a man who needs your help, and thought Minerva doesn't fully support me in this…"

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall interrupted, "It is not that I simply don't support you in this… But you are overstepping all possible borders and boundaries! I am wholeheartedly against this avanture!"

"I know," the old man on the portrait nodded, as patches of reflected sunlight played at the corners of his half-moon spectacles. "And I am not surprised."

"Albus, I am begging you…"

The old stones of grey castle walls seemed to literary shake from the high vocal tones Professor McGonagall's voice was rising to in the midst of another heated argument.

Hermione listened silently to the quarrel between the old Headmaster and the new one. The Portrait of Albus Dumbledore was much more talkative, then the man himself was; and right now he was obviously up to something major. Hermione was quite certain that if Professor McGonagall does not like it, it is definitely not good.

She has never seen the Head of Gryffindor so furious, but she has also never seen these two argue. Yet, there was something disturbing about this whole situation. Hermione's inner gut was telling her to get out while she still can, but she decided against it.

Hermione looked at the grand long case clock behind Headmistresses desk. She knew for sure she was late for the witness deposition in her office. She has been working as an attorney for the last five years, but she had never been late. Until today, when Hogwarts owl summoned her for an immediate meeting, and old adventurous mood stroke her to apparate back to the welcoming grounds of the castle she still called home.

After graduating from Hogwarts Hermione went to Auror Academy with Harry and Ron, but majored in both Muggle Jurisprudence and Magical Britain's law rather than joining the boys at the Defense Against the Dark Arts department. Back in Hogwarts and during the war she kept thinking she should go into potion making or medicine, but the tragic story of Severus Snape's life and death came smashing on her head, and she renounced a career in anything even slightly connected to brewing. The dark and secretive Potions Master was somewhat a role model to her for his strengths and his loyalties, but ever since the Battle of Hogwarts he became yet another painful war memory that Hermione would rather forget.

Upon graduation Hermione received a very generous job offer from London headquarters of a prestigious transnational law firm that uniquely served both muggles and wizards. Soon she felt that she had found her niche, and has been happy with it ever since. But there still was one undeniable truth – Hermione yearned for something to enlighten the routine her life has lately become, and Hogwarts has always been a perfect place for unexpected twists.

"Albus, this idea of yours is just way too obvious. You cannot burst in on people's lives like that, you know!"

"I can't think of a better way to help, Minerva. There is not really much of a choice…"

While Professor McGonagall continued arguing though was already losing her positions, Hermione silently entertained herself to looking at the portraits on the walls. The History of Hogwarts, her favorite book, described all of them quite well, but she never had the opportunity to look at them herself. Some were sleeping, snoring in different overtones; others were tiredly listening to the quarrel.

Professor Snape's portrait was looking directly at Hermione with his dark, heavy sight. His posture was stiff, but the folds of his black robes were swirling from the invisible draft. Hermione caught his dreary sight, and shivers ran down her spine as she remembered his dark, almost threatening eyes in their first Potions class.

She raised her eyebrow, imitating his favorite gesture, and yet the man on the portrait did not bother to react. They kept staring at each other and at the moment when Hermione was ready to overt her eyes she suddenly noticed him nod. It was barely visible, and yet she could have sworn she saw him nod to her.

She puzzled over it for a few seconds, until her mind was distracted by Professor McGonagall's fierce exit. While the Headmistress did not slam old wooden door, she made sure the angry clicks of her heels were heard by anyone within the range of three corridors. Professor Dumbledore looked as if her disapproval did not disappoint him at all, yet he was deep in his own thoughts, curling his long white beard around his point finger. It seemed that he had forgotten about the young barrister sitting right in front of him.

"Professor..?"

"Oh, miss Granger," his sight suddenly became focused again. "What was I saying? Oh yes! I have something to ask of you. Quite an important mission I would say, and I am counting on your full support."

"I am listening, Professor," said Hermione trying to sound calm. She was excited and worried in the same time.

"Do you know how many Death Eaters are still in Azkaban? Those who are still awaiting their trial?"

"Not many," she shrugged her shoulders, "no more than ten."

"Would you mind stating the names?" he looked at her over his glasses, and his sight was concerned and serious. "Miss Granger, do you know them?"

Oh yes, she knew them. Each and every one of them: their names and faces. She also knew their crimes and their victims. She did not fear anymore, nor did she allow hate to overwhelm her. Hermione just banished them from her life.

She skipped the news articles about numerous prosecutions, and switched radio off every time conversations on it turned to the topic of Death Eaters. Her heart was still healing from the battle losses that they all suffered almost five years ago.

"Professor, what are you trying to say?"

"I am asking for your help, Counsel." Dumbledore's voice dragged her out of the miserable thoughts. "There is a man in Azkaban who is soon to face his trial, a Death Eater for that matter. I am cordially asking you to take on his defense."

Suddenly Hermione felt very uncomfortable in the red velvet armchair under the amiable yet cunning glances of the old Headmaster of Hogwarts. Wherever this conversation was going – she already did not like it.

"Professor Dumbledore! I cannot…"

"Please, miss Granger. It is very important."

"I don't do criminal, Professor." Hermione spoke sincerely: she was a personal injury lawyer, not a criminal defense attorney. There were litigators who specialized in this matter: Death Eater Defendersor "DED" as the Wizarding Bar Association called them.

She was not one of them. Her parents never recovered from her own desperate spell, and her heart was still hurting from all the losses from the Battle of Hogwarts – these were feelings she simply couldn't put behind.

"I know that is not the full reason, Miss Granger." His eyes were still sparkling, but they suddenly became dark and full of concern. "He is weak and exhausted. Tortured. Would you really deny such man proper defense? He deserves it. We both know what awaits him at Wizengamot, but I cannot step in the halls of the Grand Court anymore. It is you who can."

Hermione sighted. She was sure the old professor was pulling strings. He knew that one word can make her do something like this, and he spoke it without saying out loud. Hermione could not let an innocent man rot in Azkaban. It has always been like this, she has always been like this.

"Who is this man?"

"I cannot tell you, Miss Granger. And by now he might very well not remember."

Oh, for Merlin's sake!She thought to herself. It gets better and better!

"Amnesia? Obliviate?"

"Add Cruciatus to the list." Professor Dumbledore was looking straight in her eyes, as if trying to persuade of his point. But it was unnecessary: at the name of the Forbidden Curse and the idea of an innocent man memories started pouring into Hermione's head.

"But how can I..?"

"Trust me," old man spoke in a deep low voice. "If there is someone who can save his soul, it is you and no one else. As I have said, he deserves the most zealous defense. He deserves you, Miss Granger."

Hermione pondered over his words. Trust? Professor Dumbledore was known for his grand plans and complicated insinuations, and judging upon Professor McGonagall's behavior he did not give up his ways. She didn't want to be a part of this greater scheme, yet, the thought of an innocent man in the dirty cell of the wizard prison was already tearing her heart apart. Hermione nervously clasped her hands, pressing them firmly against one another.

Ever since the Dark Lord fell it was still as if she was dealing with him every day. Wizengamot demanded something of her quite often – testimonies, affidavits, oaths… She felt sorry for those wizards who were obliged by the ethics of the legal profession to deal with the Death Eaters. Many were to lie and play schemes and games, and sometimes they even were quite successful in their ways.

She kept thinking about what Dumbledore was asking of her. On one hand she would have to overstep her fears and principles. On the other Hermione was not a craven, not to herself. Yet, taking on such a trial, she thought, may be the only way to confront her pains and let go of them…for good.

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape's portrait, as if seeking an affirmation from him. Suddenly she saw him nod – now it was clearer, more distinct. The man was trying to tell her something. Was he agreeing with Dumbledore?

"I cannot do this, Professor Dumbledore," she finally said in a low voice. "At the very least I need to know more before I make this decision."

"Of course, my dear. Ask any questions."

"Why is he being put to trial? If he is sick the court should order a compulsory medical treatment…"

The portrait of the old Headmaster sighted loudly.

"He has a Dark Mark imprinted on his arm, Ms. Granger. Does the Court often let go of someone who's marked?"

"Then how do you know he is innocent?"

She could swear that Professor Dumbledore almost chuckled to her question.

"Oh, but I did not say he is innocent. I only said he deserves…"

Hermione pressed her lips together. It was almost too late to back out, and Professor Dumbledore already had her very interested in the case. But defending a murderer?! Of course, who else would he ask of it, when it is her who Wizengamot is likely to trust over anyone? Dumbledore called him a lost soul of a tortured man. Could she back out on such a defendant?

"May I suggest, Miss Granger?" old Headmaster spoke softly. "Go talk to him yourself, and then make your decision. I believe such meeting might persuade you to see things… more clearly."

Hermione silently nodded. Dumbledore knew her well, as he so easily talked her into meeting a person she a priorihas some very mixed feelings about. Maybe if she had been more experienced she would have been able to withstand Dumbledore. Still she now simply had to go to Azkaban to see this mysterious anonym. So much for enlightening her routine! Yet looking at the case herself before deciding to take it or decline it – that has always been her strategy…

"He is confined in the cell number AD5493. I do count on you, Ms. Granger."

ХХХ

"Hermione, I don't like this." Ron looked up at her from the newspaper.

"You've mentioned it ten times in the last half an hour. I heard you well the first time." She was still puzzling over her meeting with Dumbledore this morning, and the comments were now only irritating her.

"Well, forgive me for being repetitive!" Ron suddenly exploded in words. "Are you up for a bloody adventure again? Should we call Harry?! Or Neville, he still holds that bloody sword dear; I bet it's hanging over his fireplace…"

"Ron, stop it! Really," She conjured two cups of chamomile tea and gave one to him with a peaceful smile.

"Thanks, bun," he sighted. "The Holyhead Harpies lost to Wasps today, 210 to 180. I hate it when they lose! You won't listen anyway, will you?"

"I am interested and I am curious." Hermione shrug her shoulders, not at all surprised how Ron was skipping to quidditch and back. "There must be a reason for which Professor Dumbledore cares for this man. As there must be one for Professor Sn… Sinistra to support him."

"Who? Sinistra? Who the hell is that?"

"I took Astronomy with her. I met her on the way out."

Hermione didn't really want to tell Ron about her exchange of nods with the deceased Potions Master. Ron hated Snape, even now, even after Harry had showed them his memories, even after Harry cleared the potions master's name… Ron still hated the man, and Hermione wasn't up for another argument.

"Well, you don't expect me to remember all the professors you had, do you?" he sneered. "That should be whole Hogwarts! And since when do you listen to her?"

"I don't, and I am tired of discussing this while you are that cranky." She tried to sound stiff. "Don't be so rude, you know, she was a great astronomer. She comes from a great ancestry, and she was with us in the Battle of Hogwarts…"

"Don't care."

They were silent for a while.

"We have a wedding soon, Hermione. We are going to be married."

"Oh really?" she smiled.

"Really." Ron's voice was dead serious. "And instead of panicking over dresses and plate ornaments as a normal bride would, you behave like don't even care, giving me a bloody history lesson here!"

Hermione sighted. Ron's mood was strange today. But she had nothing to tell him as she did not know what to say. They were dating for several years already; living together in a flat she was renting downtown London close to her office. Everything seemed just fine. Somewhat like in the books she liked to read when she wanted to take her mind of work: they met in school, they fell in love…

This is where the problem lies, Hermione often thought to herself. Feelings, emotions, love – all that was long gone as if never existed. Ron has become more of a brother to her, and the whole idea of matrimony seemed foolish to her at times. Hermione kept thinking about it. Was she right? Was this marriage a good idea? Or was she just getting cold feet?

She often felt as if she was patronizing Ron, treated him as a child, forgiving his faux-pas. She was not so easily offended by his rude behavior; or simply wanted to be forgiving with him. He too was probably nervous about their wedding, Molly pressuring him constantly. It's hard to be youngest of so many brothers. No, Ron was not easily manipulated, stubborn as a mule, with his mood spoiling every second as news of his brothers' successes arrived at his doors. He always felt pressured by the expectations of his family. It wasn't even him, but Molly who insisted on the upcoming wedding date, and the closer it was, the more uncertain Hermione felt.

"You don't even wear the engagement ring!"

Hermione looked down on her hands. Merlin! He was right, and she didn't remember to wear that diamond today, same as on many other days. Ron selected the ring himself – huge, sparkling stone on yellow gold, when she would much rather prefer a plain wedding band. But Ron chose it himself, mostly wanting to show off the size of his salary than anything else by it; being poor was still his biggest fear.

"Ron, stop this provocation. You know well I don't like wearing jewelry at home". Hermione tried to get away with it, but she knew Ron was going to hold this ring situation against her up until the wedding day. He is and always has been all about a grudge…

"Of course, bun," he said suddenly in an estranged voice; demonstratively hiding behind a newspaper. "You don't wear your engagement ring, you don't care for guest lists and music bands for our own wedding ceremony… And now you're telling me you are going to spend last weeks before the wedding in Azkaban with some greasy crud! Nice."

Here we go again, Hermione thought, I am not going to even respond to that. And I hate it when you call me "bun"!

She suddenly felt like everything in her life was going wrong, or at least not the way she wanted it. What she wanted was to run away, jump out of what now was her life into something new and exciting. Hermione was tired of it all: Ron with his fluffy feelings and harsh pretentions, married girlfriends that would never shut up about their perfect husbands, even this couch with beige chintz upholstery… oh she was just fed to the teeth with it!

But instead of running away from it all Hermione started crying. Ron immediately stood up and left the room with an irritated groan. He hated to see her cry, because he never knew how to deal with it. And Hermione was left on the couch, alone, crying her heart out.

Ron used to be a very sweet boyfriend, and a good friend. He was nice and romantic. But ever since he put that stupid ring on her finger, he transformed into terrible arse. He would blame her for every wrong that happened around him, he was a jealous man with many inferiorities. But Hermione remembered him very different, and she believed that once the wedding is over Ron will turn into his sweet old self. She refused to think anything else of it, because she once loved him, and she believed she will help him to change back into himself. They will grow to love each other after they are married they will have children, a big happy family… Hermione wept, as her thoughts drifted into dreams.

Hermione knew what she was missing – her freedom, the feeling of flight, the lightness of being. She felt as if she is locked up in a golden cage, and her soul was beating on the bars, yet her ratio itself did not allow her free. Hermione longed for love: all-consuming, inconvenient, passionate, and indescriptive love. She wanted someone, who would go all in for her; and Ron was not ready to move even half way…

Sometimes in the silence of their bedroom, after Ron went to sleep, she would lay for hours thinking about this relationship. In her mind Hermione would make "pros and cons" tables and always end up with a draw. After losing her parents to the war she was not ready to give up on one of the two closest people she ever knew in her life. Neither was she ready to give up the Weasley family, and the welcoming warmth of the Burrow.

Hermione felt sad from the fact that she had no one to talk to about this. Harry is Ron's friend, Ginny is his sister – and these two were the only people she trusted, the only she held close. It was devastating to have no one who could listen to her and not judge for second thoughts.

But in the end of the day all this did not matter. All Hermione wanted was to feel in love again. She sincerely hoped that the old man's request will at least take her thoughts off all this emotional mess. Overall, maybe it really is the pre-wedding stress?