A/N: I am back from school hiatus! It was becoming incredibly difficult to write this and do all my schoolwork, and student-direct a play, and such and such and such. I was worried that this wouldn't get finished, but never fear! Complications is back. Hope you enjoy this latest piece. As always, reviews keep me going! Thanks for all your support- I wouldn't continue this if I didn't have readers! :)
much love.
Mama mia let me go- So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me...
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh baby, can't do this to me baby...
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here...
--Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen
Chapter 12: Trials and Tribulations
The courtroom was incredibly large and effectively hollow.
Ron couldn't help but feel alone, even though the room seated almost one hundred people. The ceilings arched thirty feet over his head, and the navy and gray stone of the walls made him feel guilty for something and he wasn't the one on trial. With a twinge in his stomach he realized that Hermione had to sit through this on a regular basis. Ron made a mental note to try and be kinder to her on days when she had to appear in court. He'd stood for the arrival of the judge, and then of the jury, which he'd scanned diligently to make sure he didn't recognize anyone that might have a bias. He didn't.
In his swift investigation of the room, his eyes landed on the defendant- Mr. McKeel- and he would be a Mr., just as he would be tried as an adult. Using first names made the case personal, and the prosecution wanted to dehumanize him as much as possible. Don't think of him as a child. Think of him as a criminal. He'd wronged. There were no mitigating factors or reasons why he shouldn't be punished just as anyone would in his situation. If only Ron could get his wife to understand.
As the members of the court got the logistics out of the way, Ron idly picked at his nails. There was far too much to think about now to dwell on any one thing. The trial, his job, his wife, his daughter, his daughter's new boyfriend. Maybe he'd dwell on the last one. The idea that Rose, brilliant young woman that she was, would pick a Malfoy above any other boy in the school (why couldn't she have stuck with Will?) baffled him. He'd always been one to trust her judgement, ever since she was small, but now? What made her think he was good enough for her? What little demon spawn of Malfoy's could be good enough for her? Ron had seen the boy before- maybe Rose liked him because he was handsome- he was- but he'd never thought her to be that shallow before. What had he done wrong in raising her that she would choose a boy with a scaly reptile name and a scaly reptile father? What?
It was hard not to notice when the prosecutor stood to make his opening remarks. He was tall and broad, dark and well-dressed. His angular jaw and long forehead made him an imposing figure. Ron's eyes unconciously drifted to his wife, who was quite different in comparison. She'd always been small and slender, but compared to her opponent, she seemed incredibly delicate with her soft features and curls. He hoped he didn't break her, but she'd always been strong. It was strange to root for both sides at once. He'd never been very good at it. He'd learned this when his sister played professional Quidditch for a time and had her first game against the Cannons. That had been the most difficult Quidditch game of his life. And here he was, comparing court with Quidditch, when the prosecutor had started to deliver what was to be a long, loud speech.
"Citizens. Friends. Wizards, witches, muggles, Squibs. We find you all in the audience today, not proud, but in fear. Fear of what has happened once and what can be prevented. You will witness today the case of Mr. McKeel- who has studied history in hopes of repeating it, who has willingly brought pain to those that bring him love, and who understands not the concept of life and that of struggle. You see..."
After about five minutes Ron stopped listening.
"That is all."
He'd spent the majority of the speech thinking about his daughter's new boyfriend (who he'd now termed "that son of a bitch" to alleviate momentary anger) and what his wife was going to say next. Thankfully, the exhausting large man finally sat down and Hermione stood. He watched her fingers drum against the desk, absent of the usual click of her fingernails. She'd kept them bitten low with worry lately. It pained him to see her this anxious all the time, but he still couldn't bring himself to agree with her.
"For the sake of the court and for the time everyone has so graciously donated, I will keep this brief. Dougal McKeel, who has been brought to trial today, is guilty of a crime. But not the crime for which he has been convicted. It is important to take a misbehaving child and punish them. It is important to take a criminal and charge them for the wrongs they have committed. But to take a person- any person- and make them an example for the community at large is not to the fault of that person, but to those in favor of inciting fear and mob mentality. Furthermore, to bring years of shame and hate to a singular party who is merely interested in a specific facet of history is not just wrong- it is also criminal."
Though he didn't always agree, Ron loved to just listen to what Hermione had to say. It was often beautiful and profound and incomprehensible, like sermons or orchestras or speeches given in Latin. She went on for a few more minutes and Ron just listened, not really taking in the words.
However eloquent Hermione could be, she was fighting a losing battle. The prosecutor, whenever addressing the jury, seemed to be preaching to the choir. The small crowd present gasped and ahhed and oohed at the appropriate moments, and Ron could tell his wife was crumbling a little bit under sheer frustration. Hermione's witnesses were mostly Muggles, and as such, were not paid the attention they were due. Even across the room, Ron could see her teeth clench and her jaw set, and he had to fight back an urge to laugh. Stubborn to the end, Hermione was.
After a few hours during which Ron had fallen asleep and had a quite wonderful dream in which he impaled Scorpius Malfoy with his wand, court was dismissed, and he and Hermione exited the Ministry together. The whole way home, Hermione talked Ron's ear off about some part of the proceedings or another, and he tried to listen. His attention was short-lived, however, as he realized something:
Now he had a thousand and one things to worry about.
