Chapter Twenty-One

A chipped ivory cup of coffee, an almost-empty red pen, and the day's muggle newspaper to search for houses for sell. Hermione woke two hours previous to the time of the hearing to do all the things that she had to do, and she still was almost late. She was never late. Her watch was set five minutes slow.

With the marked paper under her arm, her heels clicked, a fast and rippling echo in the empty corridor of the Ministry of Magic, stories below the ground. She met Draco outside of the door they would be passing through to make their case and hear the verdict. He turned as she approached him, his eyes a stormy glaze, his hand outreached to shake hers in the most formal fashion. She nodded, shoving the newspaper and pen inside of her briefcase.

"I would like to give you my thanks, Ms. Granger for defending me."

She straightened and stared at his hand for a beat too long. Whatever she had expected, that was not it. "Draco... I should have told you, but it all happened very fast."

"He was your husband, you have two lovely children from him. It should be him."

"No... I don't love Ron, I love..."

He stared at her expectantly, the glaze disappearing from his eyes for a moment. "Who do you love, Granger?"

The door opened from a burly man. She felt relieved from having to answer the question and infuriated because the conversation needed to be had. She touched the inside of his hand, her fingertips on his palm. It was the most affectionate she could be toward him, in case anyone had been watching.

"You are most welcome, Mr. Malfoy."

The glaze returned to his eyes, and they strolled stiffly into the circle of dull clad and frowning jurors. As many times as she had pleaded her cases in the dank and spacious rooms, she had never been nervous. For the first time Hermione was worried. Worried about the prosecutor, Draco, and whether he was prepared to be put into Azkaban.

Suddenly, it mattered more than anything else in the world. She knew Draco's fate was a done deal, but she would do everything she could to free him. Right then, thinking of Scorpius in the hands of his incompetent aunt, she made herself that vow. She would make him out to be a victim. It was Draco's worst nightmare, his own Boggart, but she would do it, if it would save him.

The prosecutor made his claims of Mr. Malfoy attacking the men in an alleyway. She was a professional and such lies she was used to, but she was losing sight of the man she was defending and only seeing the man she spent a winter's picnic with. They were telling lies about her friend and nothing made her more angry than to have to sit quietly, awaiting her turn.

Hermione told Draco's side in her prestigious and knowledgeable tone. She suggested a community service, a muggle activity that would ensure that Mr. Malfoy would not commit such an act again, which the court liked very much. She was doing well, until the prosecutor stood, slammed his hand against his table beside hers and yelled that Mr. Malfoy should not be allowed leniency. He called Draco an inbreed.

Hermione was prepared to ignore it, but when Mr. O'Donall brought out photos of Hermione and Draco in a cafe, holding hands, asking for a mistrial on the account of a personal relationship and possible use of illegal potions in her department, that was where the trouble began. Hermione felt the incisors that the bloodsucker used.

"Draco Malfoy is not an inbreed, you pompous slime!"

She lost it, she snapped, and it was not Hermione Granger's finest moment, for she attacked the prosecutor, bringing out her wand to do it.

The cell Hermione was in was damp, her hands slicking on the stone bench she was resting on. She tapped her foot impatiently, it making wet smacking sounds on the stone. Smack, smack, smack... A voice bellowed in the chamber for her to stop, and she threw her face into her hands. How long would it take for Harry to bail her out? Had he heard about her, yet?

The billowy guard was particularly rejoiced about arresting her. She recognized his name, Lochwick, as being one of the Death Eaters that escaped conviction. It was a dream come true for him, to arrest the "great" Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

There was the already-familiar clanging of the door, the fresh air creeping in like slow and sweet temptation. Her heart raced, expecting to see Harry in front of her, but instead of the raven-haired boy, there was the blond ferret.

"Malfoy," she explicated.

"That's some greeting there, Granger. And when I was going to bail you out..." He clucked his tongue in a "tsk, tsk, tsk."

"Then be done with it."

He shook his head, and hesitated at the seat opposite of her. His nose wrinkled and he seemed to make the decision that he would not sit on anymore filthy things, and so he stood there, his arms crossed cockily over his chest. "Hermione Granger got locked up in Azkaban for attacking a lawyer... This may, in fact, be my proudest moment."

"I feel sad for you."

"Feel sad for yourself," he scoffed, "I'm not sitting in a cell."

"You were. It was thanks to me, you lousy -"

"Wind down there, Granger. I bailed you out." His hand twitched, as if he was about to touch her, and then thought better of it.

"Draco." She took his wrist, but at his deathly stare she released him. "I am sorry."

"I told you there were two reasons I wanted to change the world. My son is one. You're the other."

Her breath caught, but it was somehow imperative that she not break eye contact. Like with a Hippogriff, she had to stand her ground until he bowed back.

"I spotted you on the lake at Hogwarts," he told her, only his lips moving, his face frozen in distaste. "In our First Year. You were a boat away from me. You had the same look I did. I thought you were the same as me. If I'd known..." He inhaled. "If I'd known you were muggle-born... I don't think it would've made a right bit of difference. I think I liked you then. Not that I would have ever admitted it."

"You did...?"

"You called me a foul human being on the train when I told you to get out of my compartment. You stood up to me. No one except my parents did that. Do you understand why it's surprising to me? That when I finally get my chance with the smartest Witch in school, she is the one that lied to me. You thought I was the foul human being, but, Hermione, I did a lot of things in my life I'm not proud of - and I may be what you say, but there's something you are that I'm not. I'm not a liar." He turned, and left, leaving the door ajar behind him.

The cell was colder, the air more chilling, and the scent no longer filled her with longing to leave. It was as though Draco took every bit of warmth and good feeling he had with him.

Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel like leaving then. She collapsed back on the bench, and buried her wet face in her hands. She sobbed and sobbed.

Harry never did come for her... George did.