Hermione willed the tears prickling at the back of her eyes to stay at bay. Never in her life she thought she would feel sorry for Malfoy, of all people. The boy had teased and bullied her for years.
But that was just it, he was just a boy. And as he told his story she realized more than ever that he was just scared. She saw him hesitate at the battle of Hogwarts. She knew he hesitated when forced to kill Dumbledore. He was a scared boy, stuck in the middle of his demanding death eater father and Voldemort.
Even though Hermione felt the hundreds of insults he threw at her begin to melt away, she still could not bring herself to cry for him, for he was still Draco Malfoy.
"There's no words I can say, Malfoy. I-I'm so sorry." Hermione said, making her eyes meet his.
"I don't need your pity, Granger." He spat. But behind his eyes there was something softer, like he appreciated her sympathy and the concern lacing her features.
"It's not pity, I'm genuinely sorry that you had to go through that." She took a chance and reached to where his hand lay on the arm of his chair. "All of it." Their eyes meet and Hermione, through her eyes and the touch of her hand, shows that she's being genuine.
Sorry for the loss of his mother, but also sorry for the loss of his childhood, having to be the son of a death eater. Malfoy understood what she meant right away, and he couldn't help but giving her soft and delicate hand a squeeze before pulling himself back. It seemed better to him than saying thank you.
"So where do we go from here?" Malfoy asks, slumping into his chair, staring back towards the fire.
"I've written all of this down, I'm going to do my best to find witnesses and build your case." Hermione began to gather all of her papers and put them into her briefcase. She figured this was a good place to stop for the day. "We'll win, Malfoy. I know we will." She expected a glimmer of hope to come across his face but there was nothing. His light eyes stared empty and emotionless towards the fire, most likely replaying the story he had just told in his head.
"I'll be back tomorrow." Hermione said, getting up from her chair. He didn't look up.
"Okay." Hermione attempted a hopeful smile but he wasn't watching anyways as she made her way to the front door.
"Jessie, could you come here a moment?" Hermione's receptionist left her post and entered her office. "Could you please get me two large cups of coffee?" Hermione was slumped in her chair. She'd been digging for witnesses for Malfoy's alibi for the last two days. It had been more difficult than she anticipated.
Since the Malfoys were on the run most of the time, they didn't have much contact with the wizarding world, the only public spaces they would enter were muggle towns. She couldn't very well investigate those, they could have used different names to check into the hotels. And even then, they couldn't bring a muggle to testify in court.
Jessie sets the cups of coffee on Hermione's desk.
"Thank you." Hermione sips on the freshly hot a brew and ponders. If she can't obtain any witnesses, the case may be gone. Malfoy would be sent to Azkaban. It was hard for her to admit it, but her emotions were beginning to effect her case. She felt more determined than any other case before to get to the truth.
Chugging her hot coffee to the best of her ability she quickly puts on her jacket. "I'll be back, Jessie." She storms out of her office. As soon as she's able to, she apparates to the village where Malfoy's parents are buried.
The air has a slight chill and Hermione's arms wrap around her. The cemetery is quiet, cold. Filled with the voices of thousands of wizards. After a few minutes of searching she finds it. She can't help but feel a pang of... something when she's sees the name of Lucius Malfoy on the gravestone. They didn't have many encounters together, but she remembers the beginning of her second year, when they first met in Borgin and Burkes.
"Fear of the name, only increases fear of the thing itself." Her first words to him. Looking back, perhaps he was most afraid of Voldemort of them all, enough to follow him to his death. It was still no excuse, however. He was somebody who actions could not be forgiven.
Looking back at Narcissa's grave she felt more solemn. She could tell that Malfoy's story was true, her death was not deserved. Killed by death eaters. Wait- killed by death eaters. Why would a supposed death eater be killed by one of her own kind? If Hermione could prove that Narcissa was killed by a death eater, she could prove that Malfoy was innocent and not a death eater himself.
Before she could let any hope seep into her mind, she was tapped on the shoulder.
"Did you know these people too?" It was an old man. He carried a watering canon, obviously the cemetery's gardener.
"Too? What do you mean?"
"Well there was a boy here a while ago, around your age. He was crying and mumbling something and then some wizards came and scooped him away. Not sure what happened there but he seemed very upset. I don't know who he was or who these people are but it seems strange that he would be taken away just for grieving." The gardener, an old and frail wizard shrugged. He continued to water the new blooming flowers near the grave. Hermione was shocked.
"You saw him here? Crying?"
"Well yeah that's what I said." The gardener grumbled. Hermione's heart leaped. Finally, a witness.