A/N: You guys rock! I'm so glad you are enjoying my story. Thanks for your continued support. Super, mega, mondo thanks to my amazing alpha reader: LaDeeDa and my wonderful beta reader: astrangefan who really help me find and tune my voice. You are the best.
The Three Broomsticks
By the next morning, Hermione was feeling quite a bit better. Draco was being an utter nightmare about her impending trip to Azkaban to the point that she enlisted Padma's help, distracting him with basic potion making to restock the Hospital Wing.
"I'm well aware you are trying to manage me, Granger," Draco said with a pout that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Back to Granger now?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow at him.
"Granger when you are being a bossy bint," he explained.
"Well, bossy though I may be, you are excellent at potions and even if you can't cast the charms, your knife work is impeccable. Go help the healers and I'll be back before lunch," Hermione promised.
Draco sighed. "Your magic is weak," he reiterated for the third time that morning.
"And Harry is going with me," Hermione supplied with her own long-suffering sigh. "Besides, the only actual prisoner I will be coming into contact with is your mother. Do you think she would harm me?"
Draco's eyes softened and he shook his head. "Of course not," he said.
"Speaking of your mother," Hermione said, taking advantage of Draco's reluctant cooperation, "would you like me to send her a message?"
"Would you?" he asked, his eyes darting up to hers, the hopeful look in them broke her heart.
"Of course, Draco," Hermione said, resting her hand upon his shoulder. "I can't give her anything that would be noticed, but if you wanted to write her a note…"
Draco just stared at her for a moment, letting her play with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck as he worked out how to thank her. It was not a big deal, in reality. She'd been remiss not to offer the last time she visited the prison. But to Draco, she could tell it meant everything.
"Hermione…" he breathed. "I can't ever repay…"
"No," she said, shaking her head and stopping his words with a finger on his lips. "This isn't transactional. You don't owe me anything. Please stop thinking of this as a debt. It makes kissing you feel like you are trying to pay me back for something."
Draco snorted and then grinned back at her. "Trust me that when I'm kissing you, I'm never thinking of my mother."
"Thank Merlin," Hermione replied, leaning forward to peck him on the lips. "Now, go write your note so you can join Padma in the Hospital Wing."
Draco quickly took Hermione's hand in his own and pulled her close, kissing her soundly on the lips before going to his bag, pulling out a sheaf of parchment, and the muggle pen he'd been using for days.
"I'll never get used to that," Ron said, coming up behind Hermione and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Malfoy. Bleh."
"Oh, shut it," Hermione said, playfully pushing at her friend's chest. "After what we endured with what's her name, you don't get to pass judgement."
"In fairness, Brenda was never a Death Eater - that I know of," Ron said, but his tone was teasing.
Hermione glared at him. "I get it. Malfoy is gross. Kissing Malfoy is gross. Blah, blah, blah."
Ron pulled her a little tighter and his tone got more serious. "I just worry, Hermione. He's - a criminal. And don't look at me like that. I don't think he should be in Azkaban for what he did when he was sixteen. But he was convicted."
"I know he was," Hermione said with a huff. "I'm just trying to keep my head above water right now. If we don't figure out this mess going on with the Hogwarts grounds by the time the kids are set to return, McGonagall might have to close down the school. If Draco's Mark isn't removed, it will kill him. And if we don't find and rearrest the Rakov Brothers, we could have a massacre on our hands. I have to figure out how to deal with this and then I'll worry about the Wizengamot."
Ron sighed and rested his head on the top of hers. "You know we support you," he said. "But isn't life hard enough without you canoodling with Malfoy of all people? Wood is a nice lad. He'd be very good for you."
"What happened last time you got involved in my love life, Ronald," Hermione asked, not even bothering to look up at him. "Canoodling," she muttered under her breath with a snort.
"I know," Ron replied. "Sodding Malfoy," he muttered, but he gave her one more squeeze before walking back over to the couch by the fire where he'd been playing a game of Wizard's Chess with Theo.
Grabbing her wand, her notebook, and pulling her hair into a knot at the back of her head, she went to check on Draco's progress.
"Here," he said, handing her a neatly folded note. "If you can, just let her know I'm okay. She might not believe it on my word alone."
Hermione smiled and nodded. "I promise, Draco."
"I'll go to the Hospital Wing with Patil and do the bloody potions, but I expect you to be back here when I'm finished," he said.
"I shall never accept the accusation of 'bossy' from you ever again," Hermione said with a smirk.
Draco just rolled his eyes, and with that Hermione walked over to Harry who'd been waiting impatiently for her by the portrait hole.
Hermione's reception by Baggs was less warm than usual. Perhaps it was that she brought Harry. But considering the snide looks she got on the way into the front offices of Azkaban, she had a feeling that it had more to do with the way the Warden was poisoning the staff about her en masse.
When they got to the infirmary, he seemed less content to wait in the main vestibule allowing Hermione the privacy she was usually allotted for her visits with Mrs. Malfoy.
"No 'muffliato' today. Warden's orders," he said.
Hermione looked dumbstruck for a moment. It was a well-established fact that the Department of Mysteries operated under their own jurisdiction and that superseded almost anything save a Wizengamot direct decree. Even Kingsley couldn't stop her work or even direct it without one.
Harry ignored Baggs and cast the spell himself on the room as he escorted the guard out. Hermione could tell Baggs was affronted, but she could also tell her best friend wasn't going to let him in the room, so she turned her attention back to Narcissa Malfoy.
She didn't look any better than she had the week prior. In fact, she might have looked a bit worse. "Mrs. Malfoy, can I ask if your treatment has changed at all since I was last here? Have you received more food? Better food? Medical care?"
In that same regal way Narcissa had of sitting primly and answering questions as if she were the Queen of England, she cleared her throat delicately and said, "No change. Though I did have an episode a few days ago."
Hermione jotted down notes quickly, nodding. "Can you describe the episode?" she asked.
Narcissa looked away, her eyes moving to the side so as not to have to look at Hermione as she answered. "I forget things sometimes," she answered. Her voice was small, and Hermione had to strain her ears to hear. "I'd forgotten where I was. My mind - it's not what it used to be. I thought I was home. I wanted to see Draco and Lucius. I became a bit hysterical."
Hermione continued to take notes. No one had informed her of this. She was to be kept informed about Narcissa's condition at all times. Any incident like this should have been reported at least by owl.
Warden, warden, warden…
"How were you able to remember where you were?" Hermione asked, gently.
"I was given a potion that put me to sleep. I'm not sure which. When I awoke, I was in the infirmary and by that time I remembered where I was - and that Lucius and Draco were…"
Narcissa's voice cut off in a choked sound then and Hermione nodded. A visit to the infirmity definitely should have been noted to the Unspeakable on the case. It seemed that any cooperation from Azkaban was unlikely, then.
"I have a confession to make," Hermione began, hoping that at least she could lift the mood of Narcissa if nothing else at the moment. "Can you keep a secret?"
Mrs. Malfoy's eyes darted to hers, startled for a moment. "I…of course," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I've discovered how to remove Theo and Draco's Marks." She knew it was far out of bounds to tell Narcissa anything about her work, but she also knew that this mother needed good news more than anything. And she could trust her, not because Narcissa particularly cared about protecting Hermione's career, but because she'd do anything for her son.
For the first time in her meetings with the older woman she saw the veneer of nobility drop. Narcissa's eyes widened, and tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. "I've removed Theo's Mark and will be removing Draco's very soon. I thought you would want to know. I am trying to keep them safe."
Narcissa's mouth opened and closed as she tried to work out what to say in response to this monumental revelation. "Wh-How?" she settled on.
"It's a complicated blood ritual, the details of which are unimportant. But it has left my magic weakened momentarily. So, I won't be able to do the regular diagnostic spells. If you could just be as candid as possible about how you've been treated and what your health has been like over the last week, that would be helpful."
Hermione saw a tear slip down Narcissa's face and she felt something shift between them. The older woman's shoulders slumped slightly, her posture no longer as severe. "I'm very cold, very hungry, and I miss my husband and my son," she whispered. "They taunt me now. Before you came, I'd been left alone mostly - save the pervert of a Healer that was assigned to this prison. Now they come by every few days and remind me that no matter how many meetings with you and I have, I'll probably die before I ever get out."
Hermione's blood boiled as she wrote down every word. The guards were mad at her, fine. Taking it out on the inmates was unacceptable and unprofessional - though she'd long ago realised that Azkaban was not operating under any kind of professional standards.
"Have they harmed you?" she asked.
"No," Narcissa answered with a shake of her head.
At least there's that.
"I have one more thing for you. I had intended to have Harry come in and speak with you, but it seems he's needed keeping prison guards in line," Hermione said, pulling Draco's note out of her robe pocket. "This is for you," she said, handing it over to Mrs. Malfoy who took it in shaking hands.
"Read it now because you mustn't be caught with it," Hermione instructed. Narcissa looked at the folded parchment for a moment as if she had no idea what to do with it, but then, finally, she neatly unfolded it and began reading.
Hermione glanced out the room to make sure Baggs was otherwise occupied. He was. Harry was lecturing him about something Hermione couldn't make out, but Baggs looked as though he'd have rather been anywhere else. Hermione smirked slightly as she saw how much fun Harry was having throwing a bit of weight around. Normally, in a serious situation, he hated to do it. However, Hermione knew that Harry was as disgusted with Azkaban as she.
Turning back to Mrs. Malfoy she saw that the woman had finished the letter and refolded it, holding it back out for Hermione to take.
Hermione took the note back and shoved it back into her pocket. "Is there anything else you'd like me to take note of?" she asked.
"Draco trusts you," Narcissa finally said after a beat of silence. "He trusts you and his trust has been so betrayed in the past."
"I know," Hermione said, swallowing hard. Draco's trust was something she absolutely did not take lightly.
Hermione thought she was going to say more but she didn't. With a weak smile she offered Hermione her hand, which she took instantly. It was an unspoken agreement that Hermione intended to keep. She'd keep Draco safe and Narcissa would hold her to it.
Considering it a worthless cause, Hermione didn't even bother speaking to the Warden on the way out. Harry wanted a word with him, but Hermione refused to waste her time. She'd try different avenues to get the treatment of prisoners changed, and with any luck Warden Hoganis would be looking for a new job.
She waited patiently in the lobby of the front office for Harry to finish, ignoring the looks of hatred aimed at her by the various guards and pencil pushers milling about. Draco's note for his mother occupied her thoughts, but she didn't want to break their trust and read it no matter how curious she was. Whatever it had said had left the impression that Hermione could be trusted. For that, she was grateful. It seemed something like trust had started to grow between the two women, and she knew the note would only help matters. Information wouldn't be so much like pulling teeth and she would, hopefully, be vulnerable enough with Hermione to be her eyes inside the prison.
Now that the Marks could be removed, her new goal with Azkaban was reform. As was usual for Hermione, her list of things to do never really shortened no matter how many tasks she ticked off of it.
Harry finally exited the Warden's office, his face stoney and closed off and came over to her. "Let's go, Hermione," he said. Hermione looked up at the Warden's face standing in his doorway. He looked like a pathetic man desperately trying to appear as if he had power. It was rather sad if you didn't think about the fact that he held human lives in his hands.
After they Apparated back to Hogsmead, Hermione asked, "So, how did that go?"
"Bloody bull-headed," he said. "The Warden is desperately terrified he's going to be sacked. Instead of playing nice, he's decided his path to freedom is in clinging to the idea that he is the only thing that stands between the Wizarding World and the sure rise of another Dark Wizard."
Hermione had assumed as much. "I'm not going to deal with him further," she said. "Fuck him." She watched with amusement as Harry's eyes widened in shock at her vulgar phrase. "I'm serious, Harry. Fuck him. He's nobody. He has a little bit of power and thinks he's a king. We won't get Narcissa out of there, or Draco and Theo, or improve the conditions of the prison through that man."
"Shall we?" Harry indicated to the Three Broomsticks as they approached. "Might as well have a Butterbeer while we are here."
"Sure," Hermione smiled. "I haven't seen Madam Rosmerta in ages."
Slipping her arm through Harry's, she smiled as he led them to their old haunt. Hermione felt the surge of nostalgia as they opened the door, and the familiar jingle of the bells rang above them. It hadn't changed at all.
Few people were inside - it still being morning. Harry led them over to a booth, one of their regular ones, and Hermione slid in on one side. "So, what did you talk to the warden about?" Hermione asked, already knowing whatever it was Harry wanted to accomplish was unlikely to occur. That horrid man was both spineless and proud.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know how well it went, but I reminded him that he's not legally allowed to discuss Ministry business with the Press, moreover that if I come back to the prison and find that Narcissa has not gained any weight there will be hell to pay."
"I hope he listens to you better than he did me," Hermione said.
But before Harry could respond there was a sharp intake of breath behind Hermione as Rosmerta moved over to the table. "Out," the older woman demanded, her eyes blazing.
"Wh…?" Hermione shook her head dumbstruck. "Madam Rosmerta…" she began.
"Get out of my pub," Rosmerta answered, through gritted teeth. "You aren't welcome here."
"Rosmerta…" Harry began to protest. "What's wrong?"
"I'd think you of all people would know better than to bring her here. She's letting Death Eaters run free, campaigning for them to be treated well! Draco sodding Malfoy of all people!" Rosmerta was literally vibrating with fury.
Hermione felt her stomach sink and her skin prickle.
How did she know about Draco?
It was one thing to be faced with a stranger who hated her based on the word of The Prophet. It was another to have someone she knew turn on her like this.
"Rosmerta," she began, feeling the need to explain - to let the woman know that it wasn't how it was portrayed by the papers. She wanted to elaborate on what was actually happening, to make her case. She wanted the woman to understand that this whole issue was more complicated than it seemed.
"That Death Eater cursed me," Rosmerta reminded her, her voice shaking. "They near destroyed my business the year Snape let them run roughshod over the town. No accomplice of a Death Eater is welcome here. Get. Out."
Hermione felt her chest tighten as she looked helplessly at Harry who looked bewildered. "Neither of you are welcome here. Any friend of a Death Eater is no friend of mine."
"Rosmerta," Harry tried again. "It's not like you think. Hermione's just…"
"She's just defending Death Eaters. Send her back to the Muggles," Rosmerta said snidely. It was like a slap in the face. The woman had never been anything but kind and obliging to Hermione her entire life. Hermione knew Rosmerta to be a fair and reasonable woman, and it was another reminder of how deep biases ran - even within allies.
Now, the pub owner stood there looking at Hermione as if she, herself, was Voldemort's right hand. She knew she'd cut Hermione deep with her accusation, but clearly she wasn't going to take it back.
She couldn't stand to see the way Rosmerta glared at her. Without waiting for Harry, Hermione dashed from The Three Broomsticks. Her chest felt as though an elephant were sitting upon it as she ran out the door and up the path to Hogwarts.
Gulping air into her lungs she ran with all her might up the narrow path, her muscles protesting against her as she worked hard to get back to some place safe - some place she could fall apart in peace.
"Hermione!" she heard Harry call, but she couldn't bear to stop or look back. She knew what he'd say. Harry would be embarrassed for her. He'd be comforting and confused by Rosmerta's vitriol. The idea of being comforted at the moment made her run harder.
As many times as she'd told everyone close to her, she didn't expect them to change their minds about Draco based on her experience, she'd never considered those a bit farther out of her inner circle. Rosmerta was one of many people personally harmed by Death Eaters. Some might be as understanding as Harry and Ron, but most would not. Most would hate her - most would never forgive Draco or even Theo no matter what they did.
Her throat stung as she continued to try to gulp in cold air. She was running up the hill toward the front entrance and her hands were shaking but she kept her pace. Harry was running behind her, but she'd gotten too far ahead for him to catch.
"Hermione!" he continued to call. "Wait! Hermione!"
But she didn't stop or even slow. She pulled the heavy door of the castle open and ran with purpose through the Entrance Hall, around the corner and up to the staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to scream and cry, and she did not want to do it in front of her well-meaning best friend.
The reality of the world around her nearly clobbered her. She'd been in a bubble for weeks. Sure, the Daily Prophet had been terrible, but when had it not been? Rosmerta, a woman she'd considered a friend - albeit not a close one - had looked at her as if she were no better than a Death Eater, all because she was trying to do her job and do the right thing. If Rosmerta couldn't understand, how in the world could she expect others to?
Her legs protested but she pushed through, running up the steps in the castle. When she finally reached the Astronomy tower, she let out a scream into the chilly spring air before collapsing on her knees on the stone floor. Sobs wracked her body as she wrapped her arms around herself pulling in air in gasps from her raw throat.
"FUCK!" she shouted into the void, letting the curse ease some of her tension and calm her nervous system. Slowly, she was able to stop shaking and breathe a bit slower, a bit deeper. She sniffled and wiped her face.
She felt somewhat foolish. It wasn't as if she didn't know this was possible. It was that she hadn't let herself think about it. The task of getting them exonerated was going to be a lot tougher than she had mentally let herself accept before Rosmerta threw her out of the pub.
And Draco…
He'd cursed her.
The jab about being 'sent back to the Muggles' stung. As upset as Rosmerta had a right to be - and Hermione conceded she had a right - stepping over the line into bigotry hurt Hermione deep in her soul. It didn't matter how many times she was presented with evidence of bias, she continued to be stunned by it when it came from unexpected sources.
Hermione hissed as she pulled herself up. She'd scraped her knees on the floor when she fell. Taking a few moments to calm herself she pulled her hair back into a neater bun and began descending the steps. She walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, her mind racing with the implications of what the public's opinion of her and her work would eventually be.
"Loyalty," she whispered to The Fat Lady when she approached. The portrait swung open and let her inside where Harry, Draco, and Ron seemed to have gotten into an argument, Theo trying to play peacemaker and Padma standing to the side trying to decide if she should step in.
"How in Merlin's name could you be so fucking stupid, Potter," Draco snarled. "Of course, that woman would be furious with anyone helping the Death Eaters. I imperio'd her to bear a curse on an underage witch! The Carrows nearly destroyed her the year you were off on your great camping adventure! What kind of Auror are you?"
"Obviously, I assumed Rosmerta knew better!" Harry shot back.
"Obviously you are as pathetically stupid as you've always been," Draco sneered.
"Stop it," Hermione demanded entering the room. All eyes went to her with matching looks of concern.
"Hermione!" Harry cried. "I was worried sick! Where did you go?"
"Astronomy Tower," she answered. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Ron pointed out.
Draco looked as if he was warring with himself, stuck halfway between yelling at her for running off and wanting to pull her close and make sure she was okay. Putting him out of his misery, she moved into the room toward the de-escalating argument.
"I'm fine. I was not expecting Rosmerta's response. I should have expected it. I've been so focused on the immediate needs of this case that I didn't consider the wider implications of what The Prophet is trying to accomplish. It seems to be working great for them, by the way." She tried to make the last bit sound like a joke, but no one laughed.
Draco's eyes swept over her and noted her scraped knees. "You are hurt."
"Just a scrape. I fell," Hermione said.
"Speaking of the outside world," Padma said, moving closer to her, her wand already out to clean and heal her knees, "I assume you had your mail stopped?"
"Not entirely," Hermione said. "While I've been at my parents' I've allowed for The Prophet, work mail, and close friends to reach me. Why?"
"Well," Ron began, scratching the back of his neck, "it looks like you've accumulated quite a pit of mail over the last few weeks." He pointed toward the desks where there were boxes and bags full of post.
"What on earth!" Hermione cried.
"And given our experience with Prophet readers, you aren't opening any of that until I've had it checked," Harry pointed out.
"Just toss them out," Draco said, his tone indicating that he thought it was stupid of them to have brought them to her in the first place.
Hermione took a deep breath. A lot had happened over the course of twenty minutes, and she was still grasping for her equilibrium. She was growing annoyed with Draco and Harry speaking as if they were making decisions for her all of a sudden. Of course, she wouldn't be opening the mail without having it checked for curses. She still remembered the pus-filled boils that sent her to the Hospital Wing in fourth year when the Prophet readers thought she'd broken poor Harry's heart.
Padma seemed to read her mind and after casting a quick healing charm on her knees, she guided her to the couch and turned to the men.
"Hermione Granger has been managing her own affairs - and most of yours," she added, indicating to Harry and Ron, "for a very long time now. I understand we are all worried about her. That's fine. But give her a minute to breathe and stop being such mother hens."
"Thank you," Hermione muttered gratefully. After a moment Theo sat next to her and Draco, Harry, Ron, and Padma followed suit taking seats around the fire.
"I don't need most of that mail," Hermione agreed. "If you could check for curses and parse out which mail actually is from people I know, I'd be grateful," Hermione said, looking to Ron and Harry. "The rest can be thrown out."
"For the best, really," Ron said. "Merlin knows what might be in there after this morning's paper."
Merlin's sake. What now?
"Do I want to know?" Hermione asked.
Theo answered, "Probably not, but it wouldn't hurt to read it just in case."
"They know which Death Eaters you have out of Azkaban now," he said with a shrug. It was as if Theo had expected the news to break at any time anyway.
"Fuck," Hermione said to herself.
"You don't have to read it," Ron said. "Rubbish is all."
"Let me have it," Hermione said with a tired sigh. It was Padma who reached around the couch and handed her a copy.
Hogwarts Terrorist Among Those Freed by Hermione Granger
BREAKING: Anonymous sources inside Azkaban have finally leaked the names of the Death Eaters Hermione Granger has sprung from the maximum-security prison earlier this month.
Draco Malfoy, known inner-circle Death Eater and man responsible for the breach of Hogwarts School in Summer of 1997 has been in Granger's exclusive, secretive care for weeks. In addition to Malfoy, lesser-known Death Eater Theodore Nott Jr, has been unaccounted for nearly a month.
Readers will remember that Malfoy, son of Voldemort's right-hand man, Lucius Malfoy, not only let Death Eaters into a school full of children, but was also tasked with murdering Albus Dumbledore. An honour only denied him by the courageous acts of Severus Snape. While in Voldemort's circle, Malfoy has been linked to a number of Muggle murders including the burning down of an orphanage in White Chapel.
Warden Hoganis was reluctant to speak but did confirm the rumours late last night. Expressing concern for the safety of the greater Wizarding and Muggle population, he implored the Wizengamot to take action to have these dangerous criminals remanded back to Azkaban where they belong.
Hermione was numb. This was, by far, the worst article to date. It was damaging, dangerous, and it would enrage masses. It might even cause a mob panic. She didn't know how to react. Her senses were fuzzy and she felt light headed.
"I'm tired," she said, quietly. "I'm going to go lie down."
"Hermione…" Harry started, but Padma put up her hand and stopped him with a shake of her head.
"Let her be," she heard the healer instruct as she stood and walked to her bed which, to that, point, she'd yet to even lie upon. Pushing aside the curtains she sat down on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and slid under the covers.
She felt dread cover her from head to toe. The joy of curing Theo seemed ages away. All she could see in front of her was another battle, another fight - one that she wasn't sure how to win because the enemy was dogged, full of lies, and had no moral interest in the truth.
Even if she called on Luna and wrote her own side of the story, enough people believed what the Prophet said about Draco. Enough people would have their position solidified in their minds and become unyielding. Even if she could get them new trials, could she even get the Wizengamot to put what was right over what was politically expedient? This is what Ron had been trying to tell her, but she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to listen. Acknowledging the truth would mean admitting that she might have to break all the rules, abandon everything she'd built.
She sighed. Her body and mind were tired. Her soul was tired. She knew she needed to fight, and she would. But at the moment, she just wanted to sleep.