"Just a few details before we arrest Hermione," Moody said, sniggering a little as he said it.
Because it was indeed comical, Hermione Granger was made from the strongest moral fiber imaginable. Her integrity and clear understanding of right and wrong was second to none, which is why she and her team were chosen. She was above bribery and temptation... at least in that environment… she was also quite a snob once you got to know her – though he would never say that out loud, he thought mischievously.
"We have an informant on the inside, but he can not work in the capacity that you can, Miss Granger. He runs the place and is somewhat …intimidating, which results in a tightly run, but not especially friendly atmosphere when he is near," Moody told the group.
Hermione narrowed her eyes for the third time in the twenty minutes that she had been there. "Professor Snape," She concluded to the utter shock of both Kingsley and Moody.
"How did you figure that out?" Harry asked, knowing she was right on the money when he saw the reaction of both the older wizards.
She looked at him like he was slow. "Who would be comfortable in an environment with Death Eaters, criminals and in general, bottom feeders, but still do the right thing? Someone who has experience with this sort of informant role? Not to mention, intimidating, in charge and unfriendly," she finished, hoping her colleagues would see it.
They did and nodded.
"Will he know my situation?" she asked.
"Yes, he has been informed and will also be there for your added protection," Kingsley said.
"Added?" she asked.
"Yes, Malfoy, Potter and Weasely will be there as patrons, watching…"
"No," she said.
"What do you mean 'No'?" Moody snapped irritated with being told what to do.
"I mean, No. I have to do this, fine, but I will be there as a …dancer, right?" she didn't know what else to call those women; 'cheap whores' just didn't seem right, she thought.
Moody nodded, seeing where this was going; she didn't want her friends seeing her in such a state. Strangers and criminals were fine, but people about whom she cared and respected and who cared and respected her, no.
"OK," he conceded
"WHAT!" the wizards in questions yelled in unison and then spoke all at once, giving Moody and Hermione a headache.
"She can't…."
"She'll be…"
"SNAPE!"
"…go in there…"
"…alone…"
"SNAPE?"
"STOP TALKING!" Kingsley yelled. "You will be disillusioned outside and down the street a bit, you will hear every conversation she has and if she speaks the code word you will be seconds away from her."
"I presume you are comfortable with Severus there?" Moody asked, knowing that she and Severus were friends.
She was his apprentice her last year at Hogwarts and got to know the former Death Eater on a more personal basis. Nothing sexual, just a few layers beneath the snarky dungeon bat persona he presented in front of students.
He was one of the few, who she could talk to about Remus anymore… and about Ron. He was a wonderful listener and had quite a sense of humor if you could get past the biting sarcasm that encompassed him.
"Yes, sir," she said.
"What's the code word?" Draco asked still holding the cuffs.
"How about the phrase: 'These boots are made for walking', that way there's no confusing her intent when she speaks those words," Ron said casually, though Draco, Harry and Hermione were all looking at him with a smirk plastered on their faces.
"What?" he asked
"Nothing, nothing," she said and smiled at him.
"OK then, it's time. Hermione," Kingsley motioned for her to be cuffed.
Draco, chuckled the entire time.
"Let's go face the hungry lions," Moody said as they all stood.
Hermione's outward appearance was cool and collected if not bleak, but inside she thought her heart was going to pound a hole right into her chest and jump out into the crowd of people shouting questions to the Minister.
"Please, quiet down, please," Kingsley paused. "Miss Granger has been charged and will be tried fairly by the Wizengamot. She is no longer an Auror, obviously, as her title has been stripped and her finances suspended."
"HeeHee he said stripped," Harry whispered, sniggering.
Draco and Ron coughed, Hermione rolled her eyes and Moody turned around, pretending to be looking for criminals.
"It would help if you shed a tear or two," Moody whispered to her.
"I'm supposed to be a criminal. Criminals don't cry, they snarl and remain stoic," she said out of the side of her mouth.
"What criminals have you been around? They cry all the time like little babies," Draco said quietly. "In fact, I've seen you make a few cry, so don't give me crap."
"Yes, well, your father never cried and he is who I'm emulating," she said again through the side of her mouth.
He tilted his head in acquiescence. "Touché, Granger."
She was standing on the stage in between a serious looking Draco Malfoy and grim Harry Potter; her hands were behind her back.
Badges out, each Auror had a firm hold of one of Hermoine's upper arms. Ron was standing directly behind her with his hand lightly touching the small of her back; she could feel each exhalation he made as it ruffled her hair.
Moody was walking around the stage ever vigilant.
Kingsley was standing at the podium and looked down at the press below en masse.
She thought, randomly, that she must look very small, standing next to these tall, tree-like wizards. The disparity in height was never as vivid as it was right at this moment.
A question was yelled out and directed to Harry. "Harry Potter, How does it feel to have one of your best friends, someone who helped you defeat the Dark Lord, be arrested?"
He paused. "It's… disappointing." That was all he said, but she could see the headlines now: HARRY POTTER DISAPPOINTED!
And then it was over.
She heard Kingsley thank the press for coming and tell Draco, Ron and Harry to escort her to her cell.
No one else knew, so when she was lead down to the holding cells, she received sneers, leers and biting remarks. She felt her team tense trying to restrain themselves from defending her.
There was only one slip, a particularly nasty remark made by another Auror to Ron, "I bet you're thanking your lucky stars that you didn't climb that mountain, huh?" he said and slapped Ron on the shoulder, laughing. Of course, the Auror meant Hermione was the mountain and Ron was the climber.
It happened so fast, she felt the absence of Ron's hand on her back and heard an "OOOOMPH" from the Auror when Ron slammed him up against the wall.
"AUROR WEASLEY! That will be quite enough," Moody yelled with authority and Ron let the Auror drop without a word.
She willed herself to take a deep breath and entered the cell slowly. It smelled like pee. Its walls had graffiti on the poorly painted cinder block a cement floor with no covering.
There was a small dirty sink with a faucet, she refused to touch, and a silver toilet. She couldn't bring herself to take a detailed look into it. The cell was small approximately five feet across and eight feet deep and fit a small cot with a tattered green prison blanket on top.
She turned to the small group standing by the door. "Expecting Slytherins?" she asked, referring to the green blanket.
Harry and Draco smiled at her, then blew her a kiss and left. They didn't like this now that it was actually happening. Both hoping everything went smoothly and she would be returned to them unharmed.
Ron was the last to leave. "I'll be back later, yeah?" he said softly, wanting to hold her.
She nodded and sat down. "Bye," she said, looking quiet forlorn.
She was alone with her thoughts, which was not a big deal in and of it self - if she were at home; in her clean smelling comfortable home; however she was not, she was here, sheathed by the smell of urine.
After hours of thinking about books she read, leads upon which she had yet to follow through, and paperwork on her desk, her thoughts floated towards Ron.
He still spoke with his mouth full and he was a slob, but he always smelled so …masculine. Not bad masculine, good masculine –Sandalwood spice.
She inhaled as if she could smell him and then grimaced immediately as the foul odors assaulted her nostrils.
He was tall and thick, muscular. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him… well none of them did really. They trained all the time and Hermione ran in the evenings, but Ron was not slender or fine boned like Draco and Harry, he was beefy and in his presence, she felt protected.
His hands were large and calloused. She was a hand girl; small feminine hands belonged on women not men.
He was unassuming and gentle. His smile lit up his face in boyish excitement.
He had clear blue eyes the color of the sky on a sunny day.
Confidence poured off his person in waves, such a contradiction to his teenaged uncertainty.
His voice held a low timber, not as silky as Severus, but a nice baritone.
He wasn't afraid to laugh or act silly; he could always make her laugh.
He had full pink lips, straight white teeth and always minty breath.
She sighed and looked around. She might as well make herself comfortable; it's going to be a long night.
