John Dawlish and Dolores Umbridge were on trial. How those two had managed to get indicted together was something Hermione didn't understand and, frankly, didn't care to know. The prosecuting argument consisted of some mess about embezzlement, Fanged Geraniums, and espionage on behalf of the wizarding government of France. But obviously that wasn't why they were on trial at all. They had managed to get on the wrong side of Thicknesse or Voldemort for something, though why anyone was bothering to actually put them on trial was beyond Hermione. Didn't everyone on the wrong side of the Death Eaters - especially former honorary members - immediately meet their end at the point of a Death Eater wand? So why the trial? The most Hermione could come up with was that they were too-high ranking of political figures for the general wizarding world to just accept their sudden disappearances or deaths. At least, Umbridge was. Dawlish…she had no idea how he was mixed up in this.
One thing was for sure, this trial had nothing to do with Harry and Ron or anyone Order-related. There would be no prison break today. So there was nothing left for Zabini and Hermione to do except continue to act the part and wait for the trial to adjourn so they could return to headquarters. Zabini sat stiffly beside her, silent, large, and intimidating. Hermione decided that while she was here, she might as play her part to the fullest, and so she did. For the next two hours her quill waxed eloquently about the drama, suspense, and tragedy of two trusted Ministry officials gone corrupt. She got carried away trying to channel Rita Skeeter, even speculating on the romantic ties that may have drawn the two into working with one another. Halfway through the trial she caught Zabini reading over her shoulder and smirking. Oh, so he must appreciate her latest gem: "Ms Umbridge and Mr Dawlish exchanged twin looks of anguished communion as they stood before the judge and awaited the verdict. We can only wonder whether, as they faced life or death, they considered their thrilling, clandestine partnership worth the consequences. The handsomely broad-shouldered Mr Dawlish seemed resigned, but Ms Umbridge was definitely conflicted as she wailed and poured forth salty tears of regret by the bucket load." Take that, Ms Skeeter!
Finally, it was over. Verdict: guilty, punishable by execution. Hermione's imaginative writing had flagged by the end. She refused to feel sorry for the pair, but it was hard to bear witness to anyone's final moments. She hardened her heart as they were led away. Zabini snapped a few pictures, and then it was time to leave. Hermione and Zabini entered the queue to reclaim the wands that security had confiscated from them earlier. Of course, unbeknownst to security, neither of them had surrendered their own wands. There was no way Hermione would have walked around the Ministry without her wand, and she wouldn't have left her own wand in the hands of security anyway. They might check it and see all the uses to which it had been put. No, Hermione's wand was safely hidden on her person, as Zabini's was hidden on his. Security had been given decoy wands the Order had collected from one place or another.
As Hermione and Zabini waited in the queue, Hermione felt her left hand being nudged. That was odd. Zabini was on her right, and there was no one on her left. She looked down and saw nothing, but at the same moment felt her hand being poked again. She stared blankly at her hand while it sustained a few more pokes. Then she discreetly rotated her hand to face her palm forward. The next time whatever it was poked her, it nudged the palm of her hand. She quickly closed her fist and a tiny light purple paper aeroplane materialised in her hand. She turned and coughed into her right hand, the action leading her to stand behind Zabini's hulking frame. Hermione opened her hand slightly to examine the aeroplane. "From Royal" was inscribed on one of its wings. Hermione felt confused. Why was Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly contacting her inside the Ministry? Wasn't he supposed to be away on a mission? He hadn't been at the meeting last night. How did he know they were here? And where could she read his message without attracting attention?
With sudden decision, she slipped the aeroplane inside her portfolio, stepped out from behind Zabini, and looked up at him. "I need to go to the ladies' room," she announced. "I need someone to protect me in these halls. You never know what might happen - all these Aurors and prisoners crawling around. Come on, you can wait for me in the hall." She took his arm and began to try to drag him forward with it. Hermione found that this wasn't quite an easy thing to do, as Zabini refused to budge for a moment, causing her to nearly trip over her impractical heels. Then he reached out, caught her upper arm, and steadied her before allowing himself to be led away.
"Oi! Where do you think you're going?" demanded a security guard down the hallway.
"I need to visit the ladies' room," Hermione genially explained. "Would you kindly direct me?"
"Well…" he considered and looked at Zabini. "Does he need to go to the loo, too?"
"Oh no," said Hermione, before Zabini could say anything. "I just wanted the company. You know how girls are, never wanting to walk to the loo by themselves. He's going to wait for me in the hall."
"All right," said the wizard. "It's down the hall to the left."
Hermione thanked him before she and Zabini continued on. When they reached the bathrooms, Hermione took Zabini by the shoulders and settled him against the wall. "There, wait right there for me," she said in a normally pitched voice, just in case anyone was listening. Then she quickly whispered near his ear, "It's important. A message." He gave one curt nod. She ducked into the bathroom and locked herself into the last stall. Removing the aeroplane from the portfolio, she carefully smoothed it out. It read:
Stammer should see the men's room. The bum fodder in the last stall is particularly worth the trip.
Hermione suddenly felt very tired. It had been a long day. They had been up nearly all night trying to figure out how to respond to Percy's news and had only gotten a few hours of sleep once they had apparated to the hotel. Then they had infiltrated the Ministry, and she had been anxiety-ridden the entire time fearing they would be discovered and she would end up in Azkaban - or worse. And just when she had thought she was nearing the end (they had been in the queue to leave, for Merlin's sake!), now they apparently had more to do.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped out of the bathroom. Zabini hadn't moved from his spot. Well, that was something to be thankful for. She walked up very close to him, completely encroaching on his personal space. "Hi," she bubbled. "Did I miss anything?" She reached across with her right hand and briefly squeezed his left. As her hand left his, his fingers curled into a fist. She stepped to his left side to shield him with her body from the view of the main hall while he looked down briefly at Shacklebolt's note, which she had left in his palm. Zabini looked up again and said casually, "I think I need to see a man about a dog." Then he went into the men's bathroom, leaving her alone in the hall.
After Hermione recovered from her astonishment at learning that Zabini was even aware of that particular piece of vernacular (let alone knew how to use it), she spent some minutes in the hall wondering what in the world was going on. What did Mr Shacklebolt want Zabini to see in the men's bathroom, and why were they risking blowing their cover for it? Any minute now someone was going to come looking for the Prophet reporters who still hadn't reclaimed their wands and left the building. Finally Zabini cracked the bathroom door open and looked up and down the hall before making eye contact with her and jerking his head back toward the inside of the bathroom. Oh, no. She was not going in there with him. She glared at him. He glared back. Afraid that someone might pass by and see this exchange, Hermione crossed the distance between them and stopped outside the door, intending to ask him what he wanted. Instead, Zabini grabbed her by the arm and hauled her forcibly into the bathroom before she could say anything. This was not something Hermione was very happy about. She did not want to be alone in a bathroom with Zabini, even if it was on Order business. Nobody had better hear about this.
"What?" she demanded irritably.
"I thought you'd want to see this," he said, releasing her arm and going to the back stall.
She followed him with cautious interest. They both stepped into the stall, and Zabini locked the door behind them. This caused her comfort level to plummet even further. "Stand behind the toilet," he ordered. "That way no one will notice your heels if they come in." Hermione complied and watched as Zabini took the toilet paper roll out of its holder, pushed the cardboard roll out, and held open the roll between them. A note and a list of spells were written on the roll with Mr Shacklebolt's handwriting, accompanied by a hand-drawn map. The message read:
I have just received notice that certain Unspeakables have succeeded in brewing a large batch of Obsequium intended for use on the Muggle population. The Auror Office is intending to utilise it to press certain talented Muggles into lifetimes of brainwashed service. If the potion were disposed of, it could not be replicated for another five years. I would sort this myself, but another assignment will have forced me to be gone by the time you get this. Innocent would not be able to do this job alone, and Tree is gone. You two alone can handle this. All Aurors will be out of the Office in a meeting at 1100 hours, which will break for lunch at 1200 hours. The sequence for the vault is the list of spells below. Be careful to aim at the centre of the locking pad. Use the fireplace to get out. I trust you know what to do. Its label should read 38C48.N03 X. - R
The map showed the Office of Aurors and highlighted the vault.
As she read, Hermione considered. They had an hour to break in and out of the Office of Aurors. And not just that, but they also had to break into the Aurors' vault and steal something. Not to mention that once (if) they did all that successfully, they still had to safely get out of the Ministry. Which would be hard to do by that time, considering security wasn't likely to buy the excuse that they had both been in the bathroom for an hour and fifteen minutes. But on the other hand, if they did all that successfully, they would be saving a lot of Muggles from taking a potion that make them mindless serving machines for the Ministry doing who-knew-what. Maybe mining for precious minerals or being experimented on or something worse. Surely saving them would be worth it? And anyway, it could be a lot worse. She recalled her experience in the Ministry of Magic during her fifth year with a shudder. "Well, at least it's not in the Department of Mysteries," expressed Hermione aloud. Zabini said nothing. Hermione looked over at him. He looked put out. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Royal's lost it," he said, sounding annoyed. "Every single one of those Aurors has orders to apprehend you, and probably me, on sight, and he just expects us to walk into a room full of them and say, 'Hello fellows, we're hear to relieve you of your precious potion so we can save a bunch of Muggles'? Do you think that's going to end well? Because, believe me, it won't."
"He wouldn't ask us to do it if he didn't think we could," said Hermione.
"Look," said Zabini. "I don't answer to Royal. I answer to the organisation, and the organisation says to weigh the risks against the benefits. I just don't think the benefits outweigh the risks. If everything goes well, a couple of Muggles have nicer lives. If something goes badly, which is highly probable, you and I end up going mental in Azkaban or in cinders on the floor."
"Royal thinks we can do it," insisted Hermione. "It's not like we're going to the Department of Mysteries. And people's lives are worth it to me." She didn't like his insistence on referring to them as Muggles and not people. She was beginning to remember what a dedicated pureblood he had been at Hogwarts.
"It's not like they're going to die," Zabini pointed out. "They're just going to be under the influence of a submission potion for awhile. If the organisation accomplishes its objective, those Muggles will be freed anyway. If you go through with this, those Muggles will be the last people you ever help. By walking away now, you have the opportunity to ultimately help not only them, but the entire wizarding world."
The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck prickled as she watched Zabini calmly discuss resigning innocent people to mindless slavery. He was so heartless, so calculating. What he said made sense if you were divorced from compassion. But she wasn't. Those people hadn't done anything to get drawn into this, and she was not going to let this happen to them if she could help it. "Look," she said, "you can convince yourself of anything if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that the right thing to do is to help them now, today, this minute." She added the extra synonyms because she could see him opening his mouth to continue his previous argument that she would be helping them by walking away.
"Well, I'm not a fool," said Zabini coolly. "I'm not going."
Hermione felt very frustrated. She didn't think she could break in and out of the Office of Aurors without a partner's help. She wondered whether the humiliation of pleading with him would be worth it and finally swallowed her pride. "Trowbridge," she began, using his fake last name because she wanted to address him personally but couldn't break his cover even in the bathroom, "I can't do this without you." She gulped, hating the taste of such an admission to him of all people. "Please reconsider. Think of all the hardship you'd be sparing these people."
"Touching, Watson, but no." He looked across the toilet at her, staring her down, looking so serious and determined that she became a little afraid of him.
Keeping her eyes on Zabini, Hermione gathered up all her resolve and stepped out from behind the toilet. "Well, I'm going anyway. You can wait here if you'd like. Or maybe you just want to hightail it all the way back to headquarters? Your bum will be safe enough there."
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," said Zabini, as he suddenly made the move she had been dreading but not really believed he would stoop to. He tugged up his pant leg to reveal his wand strapped against his leg and yanked it down from its place. But she was prepared. At nearly the same time, she pulled up her skirt, flashing him a great deal of leg in the process, and wrenched her own wand from its bindings on her thigh. They straightened with their wands trained on one another.
"Have you gone mental?" demanded Hermione.
"I am completely serious," said Zabini. "You're too valuable of an asset to the organisation to let you throw yourself away, not to mention that if the Ministry tortures you they'll find out everything there is to know about the organisation."
"Do you really think I would just break and tell them everything? I'd die first! And I am most definitely going. You can't stop me; I could blast you to tomorrow," threatened Hermione.
Zabini looked unimpressed. "I think you've forgotten who you're dealing with. I'm not one of your usual peers. You're evenly matched here. I can do anything you can."
Hermione hesitated in indecision. All right, so it was easy to forget that Zabini had been in the Slug Club and that Lupin thought that he was an impressive duellist. But it wasn't just those recollections that made her feel intimidated. It was the supreme confidence in his look that said he absolutely knew he could match her spell for spell, hex for hex, and would do so if he felt it necessary. But she was Hermione Granger, Muggle-born, brightest witch of her age, and she knew what she had to do. She didn't wait any longer to send a nonverbal disarming charm at him. A fraction of a second after the charm departed her wand, Zabini fired something nonverbal at her. She just barely combated it, but the force of it threw her backward against the bathroom wall. Zabini countered her charm and instantly followed up with another spell. Hermione recovered just in time to counter it and repeat her disarming charm. Zabini dodged her charm easily and sent another spell shooting toward her. Feeling the pressing need of time, Hermione decided to take a chance to try and end it all. This time, she cast the disarming charm first before following it up nearly instantaneously with a counter for Zabini's spell. Her gamble paid off. Zabini was caught off guard, and his wand flew out of his hand. He then made a rush at her, apparently intending to physically disarm her, but she made use of the three seconds he took to cross the space between them by sending a full body-bind curse at him. It hit him just as he reached her, and he froze as he reached out to knock her wand out of her hand. The momentum Zabini had sustained from running forced him to topple forward onto her. She tried to catch him and ease his fall to the floor, but he was too heavy for her. He hit the ground forcefully, taking her with him. With difficulty, she managed to shove him off, roll him onto his back, and push him against the wall.
Zabini glared at her from his body-bind. She straightened and looked down at him, considering what to do with him. She felt a surge of pride at having won the duel. "Apparently we're not as evenly matched as you thought," she told him smugly. It was childish, she knew, but it felt good to say. She retrieved the toilet paper roll and studied it for a moment before slipping it inside her skirt. She placed her portfolio next to Zabini and kicked his wand over to him, leaving it by his side. It felt more ethical than taking his wand and leaving him unarmed in a Ministry bathroom. "I'll come back and get you," she promised, before casting a disillusionment charm on him, his wand, and her portfolio. All three faded into the tile floor. Before she left, she locked the stall door with a colloportus spell for good measure.
A/N: Title chapter is from the same-titled song sung by Sammy Davis, Jr.
I am working on this story to practise my writing, so I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer. Thanks for reading and reviewing!