"Potter, if you don't stop wiggling like that I swear I'll stupefy you," Blaise snarled.

Harry sighed and stopped bouncing his leg. He held his head in his hands. He'd never been so nervous in his life, he was sure of it. He almost wished he had faced the dragon of the Triwizard Tournament again. Almost.

"They're late," he grumbled, getting up to pace in the small hallway where they were waiting. "If this keeps up, our plan will fall apart."

"Just breathe, everything will be fine. Shacklebolt promised us it would work. We have to trust him."

Trust him. Harry held back a laugh at that. He hadn't trusted anyone for a long time. He'd seen so many people turn their backs on him after the war, as if victory had revealed the personalities of some people. As if the Resistance had only been an excuse for their survival.

He had seen so much hatred in the eyes of the anti-pardons, so much resentment and disgust. He sometimes wondered how things could have gone so wrong. How could human beings be so insensitive to their peers?

Kingsley may have been on their side, but that didn't mean he lost his political status. Harry had quickly learned what politicians were capable of when they wanted to rise in power. He didn't trust them, but he wasn't against using them.

He was well aware that without the help of some members of the Wizengamot, or the Minister, he would not be where he was. However, he had not forgotten how full of perversions, betrayals and lies this environment was.

He decided to listen to Blaise. In any case, he had no control over the situation. He had no choice but to wait. Wait. Be patient. Wait. Be patient.

He repeated these words to himself over and over again to pass the time. He counted the number of letters they contained, then mentally searched for the acronyms that existed. He was trying not to think. He couldn't let his brain ruminate. That would be the last straw. He wouldn't last.

So he counted. He thought about the meaning of the words. He wrote in his mind. He recited the alphabet. Right side up, then backwards. He counted to two hundred. Right side up, then backwards.

This went on for almost half an hour. He walked in circles in the ministry corridor and ignored Blaise's requests to sit down.

When the door to the courtroom finally opened, all the questions he had tried to bury in a corner of his mind seemed to fall on his shoulders and knock him to the ground.

His blood was beating rapidly in his ears. So much so that a musician could have used it as percussion for one of their compositions. His conscience whispered to him that he would have liked to learn the piano.

It was his favourite instrument. There were so many keys, so many possibilities, so much resonance, so many different sounds–

"Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Blaise Zabini," the clerk called out to them, waiting at the door of the room.

Blaise jumped to his feet behind Harry, who was standing still. He swallowed. He felt a drop of sweat forming on his left temple. He couldn't take his eyes off the opening he had to the courtroom. This meeting would be decisive. There would be no turning back.

Blaise suddenly grabbed him by the arm and moved closer to his ear.

"Chill, Potter, you'll be fine. You've got the best lawyer in Britain with you," he boasted, pulling him in.

Harry was elsewhere. He felt as if he was no longer in his body, or at least no longer in control of it. Blaise was moving him along without him having to do or say anything. He simply followed the movement.

He could have been on the Imperium without even noticing.

Blaise sat him down in the centre of the courtroom and stood to his right, one hand on his shoulder.

"Breathe, it's about to start," he whispered to him before straightening up.

Harry swallowed and nodded. He felt like he was gambling with his life, which wasn't so wrong when he thought about it. This court hearing would not only be decisive for his future, and for his happiness, but for Theo's as well.

He heard the chatter of the members of the assembly growing louder and slowly came back to reality. As they had expected, none of the "anti-pardon" members were present. They could lose everything if they learned that they had deliberately postponed the hearing without warning.

So all that remained was to convince the Conservatives, and for that Blaise was rather confident.

Kingsley cleared his throat loudly and the discussions gradually died down.

"Hearing of 24 September 2004, 1:32 p.m., beginning of discussions," he announced before banging his gavel on his wooden table. "Counsel Zabini, the floor is yours."

Blaise nodded professionally and took a step forward, his hands behind his back. He took the time to look the various high-ranking members of the Assembly in the eye before finally speaking.

"Thank you, Minister. As many of you know, I have been fighting since the end of the war for the rights of our citizens who were locked up in Azkaban by mistake."

There was some whispering, but that didn't stop Blaise.

"After six years of fighting, the law that many of us have been waiting for has finally passed, promising us, the lawyers of innocent Death Eaters, a real and tangible fight."

He walked around the assembly, his hands still clasped behind his back.

"However, despite the opportunities this law gives us, I, the lawyer of two innocent Death Eaters, find myself in a somewhat complex situation. And I'm sure I'm not the only one."

He stopped in front of the Minister, his chin proudly raised. Harry intercepted the discreet wink Kingsley sent him. He held back a smile.

"My clients, Draco Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Oswald Nott, are legally eligible for release in May 2005. However, only one of them, considering their backgrounds, could be released by marrying a Muggleborn. If some of the other prisoners have found a suitable match, thanks to the Ministry's archives or their respective acquaintances, this cannot be the case for my clients. Indeed, if, as a lawyer, I were to search the Ministry's archives for the names of squibs, Muggle-borns, or even Muggles known to have knowledge of the existence of our world, none of them, I can assure you, would agree to marry one of my clients."

There were more whispers.

"Why? Will you tell me?" he said, resuming his walk around the room. "Simply because their names, both from their fathers, have been dragged through the mud and sullied so many times by the anti-pardon community, that it would be impossible for them to get anyone to agree to marry them, let alone to take an Unbreakable Vow."

There was a slight clearing of throats in the assembly and all heads turned towards its origin. Harry then met Muriel Prewett's much-hated gaze.

"Are you suggesting that the law, which has been passed by the majority of the Wizengamot, be changed to accommodate the special cases of your clients?" she asked in her shrill voice.

Harry gritted his teeth. He hated that woman. He sometimes wondered whose side she was really on, despite the fact that she claimed not to belong to any of the existing parties. Yet she often tended to lean towards the choices of the anti-Pardonists. She had turned her back on the Weasley family after the war, seeming to help them only to enhance her post-war reputation. Harry had never been able to figure her out.

Blaise held back a smile. Muriel had just given him the best possible opening for the rest of his speech.

"I understand your concerns, Mrs Prewett, believe me," Blaise replied with a polite smile. "However, my request is by no means that. Who am I to go against the decisions made by our Legislature?"

Harry saw Muriel blush under Blaise's charming and teasing gaze. He almost felt like throwing up. She must have been over 110 years old.

"No, today my purpose in appearing before you is to offer a slight alternative which, in addition to allowing one of my clients to be released from Azkaban, will strengthen the Ministry's image about the law that was passed."

He was silent for a few seconds to give all the members present time to pay attention to him.

"As you may have noticed, I didn't come alone today," he said, turning to Harry.

Harry felt the gaze of the whole assembly on him and swallowed quietly. Blaise had promised him that he wouldn't have to talk, or at least not much, and he hoped he hadn't been wrong.

"Harry James Potter, commonly known as the Saviour, the Chosen One, or the Survivor, is also my client," Blaise pointed to him.

Harry didn't roll his eyes at the praise.

"Here's our proposal. Mr. Potter here would meet the exact same conditions as a squib, a Muggle-born, or a Muggle, and marry Mr. Theodore Oswald Nott, so that he can be released."

Immediately, a chorus of hasty whispers rang out from the conservative part of the assembly.

Blaise smiled discreetly, proud of his little effect.

"Imagine it," he continued in faith. "The announcement in the papers of Harry Potter and Theodore Nott's marriage, resulting in the latter's release. The wizarding population would be hysterical. What better way to prove to our world that your law is good for us wizards than the Saviour! It would also be a perfect way to shorten the period of mourning and great fear that we have all been experiencing for years, by proving that you, the Ministry, care deeply about the safety of your citizens. By allowing innocent prisoners to be released, while promising that they will no longer endanger anyone, you are proving that safety is a primary consideration in your decisions and this will only benefit you. How do you think the people will receive your next decrees if they know how to trust you?"

No one dared to open their mouths when he fell silent, and he merely stepped back a few paces to stand to Harry's right.

The members of the Wizengamot gave each other stunned looks. He had succeeded. He was sure of it.

Eventually, after several long minutes of silence, which seemed interminable to Harry, Blaise turned his eyes to the Minister, who nodded quietly in congratulation.

"Those in favour of creating case law," the latter said, raising his hand.

To Harry's delight, the majority of the assembly raised their hands. A huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. Blaise had been excellent. Theo would be released. He could marry him.

Tears welled up in his eyes as Kingsley announced the official creation of the case law.

oOo

It was still very early when Hermione stepped outside. Albert on her heels, her small leather bag slung over her shoulder and her wand clutched in her right hand, she walked out through the glass doors of her kitchen and into the meadow behind the greenhouse.

The sunlight illuminated the surroundings perfectly. The rays were still soft and orange, making Hermione nearly smile with happiness.

Barefoot in the grass, she walked towards the river a few minutes away from her field. She pulled a large sheet from her bag and shook it out so that it lay perfectly on the grass near the water.

As soon as he was settled, Albert lay down on it, his head resting on his front legs, as he was used to doing. Hermione quickly followed him there and sat down against him with a satisfied sigh.

She felt safe. It was so rare.

Here, sitting on the grass a few feet from the river, lying against her four-legged friend, Hermione Granger felt safe.

She took her bag off her shoulder and placed it on her right. As she retrieved a packet of letters from it, she clumsily spilled some of the contents. A small vial of blue potion slipped onto the sheet. She did not bother to pick it up. It was a dreamless sleep potion and Hermione didn't know yet if she was going to take a nap later in the day. The weather was right for it.

She concentrated again on the letters in her hands and stared at them for several minutes.

She knew the contents perfectly well. Practically word for word. And yet she had brought them with her to read them again. To be sure.

There were eight of them. Four from Harry. Four from Blaise. They all dealt with the same subject: Draco Malfoy.

If Hermione had initially been completely closed to Zabini's proposal, things had eventually changed. She was confused. Lost. A part of her, which she had wanted to bury long ago, could not help but want to help others and bring justice to the innocent. Nevertheless, another part of her predominated, the part that needed solitude, that was afraid of the unknown, that no longer wanted to help anyone, nor participate in any cause.

But the facts were there. Draco Malfoy was innocent and she knew it. She still remembered very well the speeches Blaise had given after the various trials in May 1998. He had repeated it in each of his letters, but also every time he had come to see her. And he had come several times.

It was his letters that she read first.

"He's a good man, Granger, he's not the same as he was in his early years at Hogwarts."

"He'll be quiet, you won't even run into each other. By the time he recovers from those years in prison, it will be as if he doesn't exist. You won't have to deal with him."

"He has no one else, Granger. If we don't support him, no one else will."

"I assure you, you won't have to worry about him. Your farm is big enough that you'll barely pass each other. I'm sure he can even help you with your horses!"

"You'll be able to divorce him, it's not final, Granger. He'll behave himself, I know him, he wouldn't hurt a fly."

She set aside Blaise's letters and took her packet of cigarettes out of her bag. She had started smoking the year before, after a panic attack more powerful than the others. She had experienced the death of her neighbour so badly that she had nightmares for several nights.

Strangely, cigarettes had helped.

It was the village postman who had offered her one when she was closing her shop. She couldn't refuse. The forbidden tempted her too much. And she gave in.

Since then, whenever she was stressed, she had the choice between a Calming Draught and a cigarette. Sometimes even both. Often.

And Blaise's letters were heartbreaking, so she took a long drag.

Harry's letters were even more moving. He knew where to press for her to break, he'd done it before when he'd visited her.

"Justice will be done, Hermione. Who knows what kind of movement this will create? More will follow, more innocents will be set free. Think of all those wasted lives."

"You saw as well as I did that he had changed after his sixth year. He wasn't himself in that Death Eater role, he hated his father, you read the letters Theo sent me about it. You wouldn't be risking anything by swearing he'd never commit a crime."

"It's not a real marriage. It's not a love marriage, Mione. Besides, you were always telling Ron that you could never get married, so that's why you split up, right? It's only a formality, you'll have no obligation to him and he won't either."

She let the letters from her best friend fall back and sighed. She was starting to give in. She could feel it.

She had turned the problem over and over in her head a hundred times.

Someone else would come and live with her. That someone would be Malfoy, a man with whom she had absolutely no affinity. Which, in the end, wasn't a bad thing. She didn't particularly like him, but she didn't hate him either. She was–indifferent to him.

She would have to marry him. This detail bothered her a little. Although, as Harry had said, it would not be a love marriage and would have almost no effect, it was still not insignificant. She should take his name. Hermione Malfoy. The thought alone sent shivers down her spine. Maybe she could ask that she could just add his name to hers. Hermione Malfoy-Granger. Hermione Granger-Malfoy. She winced.

At least they could get a divorce, she thought.

She would have to make an Unbreakable Vow. That was already much more disturbing. While she trusted Blaise and Harry about Malfoy's good faith, she couldn't help but feel that she would be putting her life in danger by doing this.

She pondered this point for a few seconds as she blew out a long white smoke.

Would it be so bad?

No. The answer was no and she knew it. She could have died the next day and it wouldn't have frightened her.

After all, there was nothing to stop her. Only her panic was in the way. She promised herself she would overcome it.

She grunted in frustration and put her hands over her eyes.

They had managed to convince her. After months of persistence.

Did you notice?

Yes! The last scene is the same as the cover's fanart!

Thanks a lot to MissKatieLyn, Acciobraincells and VMarsTrek ;)