A/N: Thank you very much to every French speaker who reached out! This week has been frantically busy, so I have not had time to respond to anyone yet, but I hope to get that time this weekend. There was such an outpouring of offers to help, though, that it really warmed my heart, and I am so grateful :)

Hermione had no idea what to wear to see Narcissa Malfoy and visit her manor. Draco had assured her any robes would be fine, but Narcissa was always so poised and put together, Hermione felt like she had to at least try to be at the same level as her.

She finally decided on a set of midnight blue robes her mother had given her. They were an A-line cut with a chiffon overlay and lace detailing on the bodice, with flattering V neckline. The whole thing looked very expensive and designer, in her opinion, and she paired it with a belt made of solid silver around her waist that chained together in the back. Her wand holster hung from her belt at her side, and she wore her best black boots as well.

Hermione paused over her appearance in the mirror, finally giving in and applying some light makeup. If nothing else, it would give her confidence, and it made her feel more adult, somehow, to have shaded eyes and longer eyelashes. She looked at her hair for a long moment, looking at the curls, before she sighed, going to her trunk to retrieve the only jewelry she had that would match her robes.

The crystal-embedded pendant cradling a soft blue pearl looked good, laying how it did on her chest. She considered the earrings, holding them up. They looked good against her riot of curls, she noted, before she laid them back down, reaching for another box instead.

As she clipped part of her hair back in her beautiful, jeweled butterfly clip, encrusted with sapphires and aquamarines, Hermione felt a faint smile come to her lips despite her nerves. She did want to make an impression, after all, didn't she?

She wondered what Narcissa would think, seeing her, a person with muggle parents, wearing jewels like any pureblood witch would.

Hermione met Draco at Diagon Alley as planned, at the corner of the alley that met with Carkitt Market. Draco had done a double-take at her appearance, before giving her another once-over appreciatively.

"You didn't have to get so prettied up," he teased her. "It's just my mother."

"Narcissa Malfoy may just be your mother to you," Hermione shot back. "But in this context, she represents much more to me."

Draco grinned. He offered his arm, which Hermione took.

"We're traveling by Portkey," he warned her, withdrawing what looked like a hewn wooden token on a leather thong from his robes. "Touch this. Ready?"

With a sudden sharp yank behind her navel, Hermione found herself violently transported with a yell, and when she landed, she clung to Draco to regain her balance, her stomach roiling.

"Easy, easy," Draco soothed, but he sounded pleased. "I've got you… you're fine…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and straightened up, pulling herself out of his arms. She smoothed down her robes and fixed her hair, before looking up at the manor and whistling.

"So. This is Malfoy Manor from the outside," she said. She raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Bit ostentatious, isn't it?"

Draco laughed, offering her his arm once more, which she took.

"It's been in the family for generations," he told her, amused. "The only decorating decision I think we've really made has been the shapes of the topiaries and the peacocks."

"Peacocks?" Hermione looked around as Draco escorted her up the front pathway. "Why peacocks?"

"My father likes them," Draco admitted. "We've got leucistic ones from India. My father finds the beauty of the white tail feathers to be more striking and dramatic. Maybe we'll see one later, if we go through the gardens."

"Why would we go through the gardens?" Hermione asked, looking at Draco. "We need to talk to your mother."

"If we take tea?" Draco offered. "If she becomes overwhelmed and needs a moment outside to get some air?"

Hermione suppressed a snort. However elegant and delicate Narcissa Malfoy might present herself as, Hermione severely doubted she would be genuinely overcome by anything and swoon.

Draco led her inside, pausing in the entryway for a long moment, worrying.

"We—we have wards, and I just realized," he said, wincing. "I—I don't know if they're coded appropriately for New Bloods. If you can wait just a moment—"

Hermione sighed and strode forward into a sitting room out of the entryway, and Draco gaped.

"Ah—nevermind then, you seem fine—"

He led her through the sitting room, through another room that looked like it was solely used for looking impressive, and into what looked like a cross between a study and a living room. The furniture here was not as polished and pristine and stylish as it had been in the other rooms; here, it was dark leather, and it looked worn. The room held forbidding portraits, some of whom shifted in the frames, suspicious, as opposed to the beautiful art that had been in the parlor.

"I'll get my mother," Draco said, biting his lip. He looked at her. "Hermione…"

"I'll handle the talking, Draco," Hermione reassured him. "Don't worry."

"It's not that…" Draco seemed oddly flustered. "Just… where do you want me to sit?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

The room held a sofa and two large leather chairs. They all looked equal in quality and stature, and the sofa had plenty of room. Hermione glanced around the room again, unsure if she'd missed something, before she slowly looked back at Draco.

"Is the sofa not okay?" she asked. "I figured your mother would sit in a chair, and we'd sit on the sofa, but if she'd prefer the sofa and you'd rather sit with her…"

"No, no, it's—" Draco broke off, looking away. He looked a bit red. "Nevermind. Sit wherever. I'll go and get her."

Hermione watched him go and shrugged to herself, taking a seat on the nearest side of the sofa, the left-hand side. Draco was just weird sometimes, she decided. Who knew what was running through his mind?

When Draco returned, Narcissa Malfoy at his side, Hermione stood. He stepped back, allowing his mother to enter the room first, her eyes sweeping over Hermione.

"Mother, may I reintroduce Hermione Granger, New Blood, the Heroine of Hogwarts, Youth Representative of the Wizengamot, and a dear friend of mine?" he said, gesturing, and Hermione swept a formal curtsy. "Hermione, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

"It's good to see you again," Hermione said, bowing her head. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

Narcissa's gaze was cool but curious as she settled herself down into one of the chairs, Hermione sitting down as well at her cue.

"If the wards of the manor welcomed you, I am happy to welcome you as well, I suppose," she returned. Her eyes drifted to Draco, who was sitting down next to Hermione on her right. "My son tells me you have serious business to discuss…?"

"Yes." Hermione bit her lip. "There's… really no easy way to say or discuss this, or an elegant way to bring it up. I'll have to ask you in advance to forgive my directness."

"Is that so?" Now Narcissa looked intrigued. "I'll forgive any rudeness, then, if it helps you explain matters to me. What is the issue at hand?"

Hermione paused.

"You're the current Regent of the House of Black," she said slowly.

Narcissa's eyes were sharp. "I am…"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I have undeniable evidence that Sirius Black, Head of House Black, is innocent," Hermione said, meeting her eyes. "As Regent of his House, I believe you're the one who needs to petition the Wizengamot for justice, for him to come to trial."

It was clear Hermione could have said nothing that would have shocked Narcissa Malfoy more.

Hermione watched as Narcissa's face paled rapidly, going from a pretty porcelain to a ghostly white in seconds. Her eyes opened wide, astonished, and she sucked her breath in sharply, her breathing erratic after that. She stared at Hermione in open horror and alarm, and Hermione didn't know what that kind of response meant – was Narcissa surprised that Sirius was innocent in a good way, or a bad way?

"Sirius?" Narcissa said, her voice hushed and shaken. "You're serious about this? He's innocent?"

"He is," Hermione said, watching her reactions. "He was framed."

Narcissa leaned back in her seat, the back of her hand to her forehead. She seemed to be taking very deep, measured breaths, consciously working to calm herself down.

"And you are certain?" she asked. "You are certain that he is innocent? In truth?"

"I'm holding prisoner the person who framed him and actually betrayed the Potters," Hermione said dryly. "Yes, I'm certain. We just need to get him a trial. He never had one."

Narcissa's face paled even further.

"Sirius… innocent…" she trailed off. "All these years… and I never even visited him..."

"I thought we didn't like him or that side of the family," Draco said, confused. "You used to say about Aunt Walburga—"

"What I said about Aunt Walburga is immaterial," Narcissa said, cutting him off. "But Sirius—Sirius is my cousin. And I never visited him. Not once."

Hermione watched Narcissa carefully.

"I didn't realize Azkaban allowed visitors," she said. "You've gone there before?"

Narcissa seemed shaken, but she looked back at Hermione, her face carefully neutral once more.

"It is… not easy to visit Azkaban," Narcissa conceded. "The passage there by the boat is very expensive. And the Ministry must agree to send an Auror escort with you. It is not something readily available to anyone who would see their loved ones."

Hermione could read between the line – you had to bribe the right people or have the right connections in order to get in to visit someone.

"I have readily visited my sister," Narcissa admitted. "But not once have I gone to see Sirius, even though he was held in the same block of cells. All this time, I thought he murdered twelve people in cold blood in front of witnesses for his sick amusement, and I could not bring myself to see him, to see what a monster he had become."

"Wait, what?" Draco was confused. "You'd visit Aunt Bella, who killed I don't know how many people, but you wouldn't visit your cousin because why?"

"Your aunt is very sick," Narcissa said sharply. "She is not the sister I was raised with now."

"Yeah, but she still murdered people, didn't she? And if Sirius murdered people too—"

Narcissa held up a hand, cutting her son off with a look. She took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself, as Hermione watched on.

"Can you tell me what happened back then?" Hermione asked. "Why didn't Sirius get a trial at all?"

Narcissa once again took a deep breath, before she began to speak.

"You must understand," she began, her voice low, her eyes intent on Hermione's, "everything was in chaos back then. The Dark Lord fell. Dozens of people were coming out from being under the Imperius Curse for months. Death Eaters attempting to flee. No one knowing who was guilty, who was not, or what was going on. The Ministry was overwhelmed, still operating with wartime procedures, and the actions the Aurors took were swift and cruel."

Hermione had never considered what the end of the war must have looked like, given its abrupt and sudden end. Voldemort had been vanquished, after all; it wasn't like he'd signed a peace treaty with the sitting Minister.

"Barty Crouch Senior was head of the Council of Magical Law at the time," Narcissa went on. "He scheduled and oversaw the trials. Most trials were not open to the public at large, to keep down the panic and to avoid tipping off other Death Eaters… many people were held in Azkaban or the Ministry holding cells for long periods of time, awaiting trial while the Ministry scrambled to put together a case."

"They just held them there? Without being formally charged?" Hermione asked. "For how long?"

"Weeks? Months? Years, for a few," Narcissa said, shaking her head. "If the evidence was overwhelming, you were thrown in Azkaban without a trial, the sentence presumed. It was bribes, political clout, and cutting deals with the Wand of the Realm that helped you actually get a trial. The Headmaster of Durmstrang, for example, cut a deal with the Wand of the Realm, I know, to turn in other servants of the Dark Lord. Ludo Bagman got a trial – he was a well-known Quidditch player who'd been arrested. And your father…"

Her eyes went to Draco, who looked pale.

"Dad was a well-known political influence, right?" he asked. "He was on the Wizengamot…"

Narcissa exhaled.

"Your father got a trial because the Malfoy family was very generous in helping fund the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the war," she said delicately. "As such, his trial was scheduled more expediently."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You bribed them to get father a trial sooner?"

"I did." Narcissa raised an eyebrow, sniffing. "What would you have had me do?"

Hermione watched Draco's shock and horror play out across his face with curiosity. She'd thought it was well known the Malfoy family meddled in politics by throwing their galleons around. Was that just a presumption on her part, then? Did they not actually bribe people all the time? Or did Draco genuinely not realize his family bribed politicians to get their way?

"It was very difficult to get your father a trial," Narcissa said quietly. "Be glad we had the money we had. Many people stayed in Azkaban for months without trials. Some – like your cousin – may have never gotten them at all."

"What happened at the trial?" Hermione asked. "What was it like?"

"It was awful," Narcissa said, her eyes clouded. "It was humiliating. Lucius being made to sit in a chair, chained before his peers, being interrogated by Crouch…" She closed her eyes, remembering the embarrassment. "It was easy to see why Lucius had been a target of the Dark Lord – he was wealthy, he was well-connected, and he was vocal about his anti-muggle sentiments. It was all too easy for them all to think the worst of him, to believe he'd willingly become a servant to the Dark Lord."

Draco looked torn and anguished. Hermione listened quietly, keeping her face blank as Narcissa went on.

"It was only because your father had such influence that he was able to be freed," Narcissa said. "So many of the Wizengamot members themselves had been charged… it was the Council of Magical Law who oversaw many of the trials, run by Crouch, and I'm grateful every day that the council members knew your father well enough to know he would not have become a Death Eater willingly. Your father faced the embarrassment of publicly acknowledging he had not been powerful enough to throw off the Imperius Curse…" Narcissa's face shifted, twisting slightly, "…but who among them could have stood up against the Dark Lord's power? The Dark Lord left utter domination and destruction in his wake."

Draco's face was pale, and he looked torn and upset. Hermione bit her lip, looking back to Narcissa, who was shaking her head.

"All of it was such a mess," she said. "Everyone scrambling, families torn apart, me handling a newborn with my husband in prison…" Narcissa sighed deeply. "It never occurred to me to see if Sirius had received a trial. It was all over the papers – Sirius Black, found laughing after blasting a dozen muggles in broad daylight – and I supposed I rashly presumed him guilty as well."

"And you didn't know?" Hermione pressed. "It was well-known he was friends with the Potters. And if your husband was—"

"Regardless of my husband's unwilling participation in the Dark Lord's campaign," Narcissa said sharply, "it is known that the Death Eaters did not know each other. They wore masks and robes, and they clothed themselves and met in darkness. The Dark Lord did not want his servants able to turn on each other, or for it to become well-known who was serving him and who was not. He thrived on fear and paranoia, when people didn't know who was friend and who was foe."

Narcissa's manner of speaking was very dramatic and theatrical. Hermione wondered if Draco got his melodramatic tendencies from her.

"That makes sense, I guess. Though I'm surprised Dumbledore didn't get Sirius a trial," Hermione admitted. "I'd have thought with how close Dumbledore seemed to be with the Potters, that he would have followed up on that."

Narcissa sniffed, disdainful.

"As unfond as I am of Albus Dumbledore," she drawled, "it isn't quite fair to lay this failure of justice at his feet."

Hermione was surprised. "It isn't?"

"In the aftermath of the death of the Potters," Narcissa said, "Albus Dumbledore was not yet in a position of great power. He was not yet on the Wizengamot as Chief Warlock. And he was highly preoccupied with a different matter – helping identify Frank and Alice Longbottom's attackers through very advanced mind magic and experimental Legilimency."

"The Longbottoms?" Draco asked slowly. "Aren't they—"

"Yes, Draco," Narcissa snapped. "They were the victims of your aunt and the Lestranges, as well as the Crouch boy."

Hermione gasped. "Wait, what?"

Narcissa looked mildly surprised. "The Longbottoms. Surely you've heard? They went insane. They're still held in the Janus Thickley ward at St. Mungo's."

"I didn't…" Hermione was lost for words. "I never knew…"

"My sister and the Lestranges thought the Longbottoms had information on the Dark Lord's whereabouts, and the Longbottoms lost their minds under the Cruciatus Curse when they were tortured for information." Narcissa's eyes cut over to Hermione. "Dumbledore spent weeks in Saint Mungo's with the Healers, trying to pull them out of their madness."

It was as if ice water had been dumped over Hermione head. She felt cold, her thoughts stark. Neville's parents… she'd never even considered they might still be alive. There were enough students at Hogwarts that had been orphaned by the war, and when Neville had said his grandmother had raised him, she'd assumed he'd lost his parents as well.

And in a way, he had, hadn't he? Parents driven insane through torture at the hands of Death Eaters – it wasn't like they'd been around to help raise Neville, had they? But to have them still alive, just… damaged…

Hermione wondered why Neville had never mentioned it. She'd had no idea, all this time.

Narcissa was watching Hermione's reactions closely as she absorbed the information about the Longbottoms. Draco seemed to have known about that part – he was still hung up on the Sirius Black and Bellatrix disparity.

"But—you go and visit Aunt Bella still." Draco looked conflicted. "Even though she did those things?"

Narcissa took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"My sister had always been fixated on the concept of restoring magical purity, possibly from the Black family motto," Narcissa said. "But when she was older, something happened to her. She became unstable, radical. She became paranoid, violent, and she was no longer the sister I knew before."

Narcissa's eyes met Hermione's. Hermione held her gaze; it was clear Narcissa was spelling things out as explicitly as she was not for Draco's sake, but for Hermione's, or possibly her own.

"My sister does not have a good reputation," Narcissa said quietly. "Believe me; I know. And she willingly served the Dark Lord. And I will admit she was always obsessed with magical purity, but it was a cooler obsession, one of pride and derision towards others who were lesser or unworthy." She paused, drawing breath. "When my sister came of age, she began to change. She was paranoid. She was irrational. She became more extreme, unreasonable, terrifying in her passion and violence. I don't know if she was cursed, or if she set her core off-balance, or what happened to her." Narcissa's face was drawn, closed off. "But she is not the sister I remember. And if something had happened to her, something that caused her to act out and behave unlike herself, how can I hold her guilty for what she would not have done in truth?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said. "We might not be able to help your sister. I have no idea what could be wrong with her. But we have a chance to help your cousin, now."

Narcissa looked at her for a long moment, before nodding slowly.

"We do," she said finally. She glanced from Draco to Hermione. "I can present a complaint of injustice for Sirius Black. We can get him a fair trial."

"Wait – Is he going to end up holding the Black seat on the Wizengamot, then?" Draco asked.

Narcissa's eyes cut over to him. "Potentially."

"Ew, I don't want that," Draco complained. "Can we just not?"

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, appalled.

"What? What?" Draco wanted to know, defensive. "He's crude and nasty, and I—"

"The Wizengamot traditions are sacred to the Ministry and our people," Narcissa snapped, glaring at her son. "We will not let our family languish in condemnation, when we have it in our reach to rectify the matter, for political power! Sirius will take the Black seat when he is recovered, and I will be happy to hand it over. I am Regent, holding it in his stead, and I will happily step down when the time comes."

Draco looked appropriately chastised, and Hermione's eyes were wide. She didn't think the Malfoys would willingly give up political power of any sort, but Narcissa seemed to indicate she was willing to do just that.

"He's just… he's so uncultured," Draco complained, looking at his boots. "I just don't like him."

Narcissa's eyes went wide. "You've met him?"

Draco snorted. "Of a sort."

Narcissa turned to Hermione, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Hermione coughed.

"When I had initially captured Sirius Black and had heard his side of the story, I kept him as my prisoner for a time," Hermione explained. "I took Draco to see him, to help figure out how to get him a trial, figuring Draco was his family."

"He was urinating on the floor at the time," Draco said, his lip curling. "Wonderful way to meet someone at the time."

"He was imprisoned, and there were no toilets." Hermione gave Draco an exasperated look. "Give him a bit of slack, would you?"

"You snapped at him too!" Draco objected. "You went off on him about pissing all over the Chamber! I remember!"

"Yes, well, he had a point," Hermione conceded. "I hadn't exactly conjured him a loo, had I?"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, while Hermione crossed her arms, annoyed. Narcissa watched it all with observant eyes.

"Is this how things are at school?" she inquired, eyes glinting.

"What, needless bickering?" Hermione asked. "I mean, sometimes? But more generally we get along, talk about classes—"

"No," Narcissa said, cutting her off. She looked at her son. "You leading a charge or a cause, with my son following behind."

Hermione blinked.

"I mean, I was the one who captured Sirius…" she said slowly. "When I went to Draco, he was the one who suggested talking to you…"

"Yet you are the one presenting Sirius' case to me," Narcissa said conversationally. "Not my son."

Hermione got the feeling she wasn't getting something. She looked over at Draco, whose face was growing red.

"She knows more about it," Draco defended. "It just made sense to—"

"You're sitting at her right, but she's doing all the talking," Narcissa snapped. "What am I supposed to think here?"

Draco's face colored further, and he looked at the floor.

"It's Hermione's cause," he said. "I'm—I'm just supporting her. Like an advisor. I'm helping."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Is that so." It wasn't a question.

"Well, it's not as if I have a chance at sitting on her left with father being an ass about everything, is it?" Draco exploded, jumping to his feet. "I'm doing the best I can, mother, and at least I'm helping a cause and serving a person I believe in!"

Hermione was alarmed at the sudden fight between Draco and his mother, at the fury and anger in Draco's eyes.

"Let's all settle down right now," she coaxed, holding up her hands anxiously. "Narcissa, Draco has been instrumental in helping me with determining how best to clear Sirius' name, as well as helped me understand the more esoteric and unwritten standards of pureblood protocol." She glanced over at Draco. "Though he hasn't explained the significance of me sitting at his left…"

Narcissa looked surprised, then deeply amused.

"It's not you sitting at his left, dear," she said, "but the fact he sits at your right."

"Isn't that the same thing, though?" Hermione said, confused. "If I'm on his left, he's at my right by default."

Draco's face was very red.

"It doesn't matter right now, mother," he said, hissing through his teeth. "Can we please discuss this at a later time and focus on the matter at hand?"

"Yes," Hermione quickly agreed. "Like how to present a complaint for justice to the Wizengamot."

Narcissa looked them over again, looking privately amused, before conceding.

"I suppose we can get to work," she said. She looked at Hermione, raising an eyebrow challengingly. "What would you suggest we do first?"

"Bring Sirius Black here?" Hermione suggested. "He can magically claim sanctuary in the home of his kin, I think. That way we can ask him questions and he can help mount his own defense."

Narcissa's jaw dropped, and Hermione winced. Whatever Narcissa had expected, that wasn't it.

"I suppose that makes sense," Narcissa said after a moment. She glanced at Draco. "Is he lurking nearby?"

"Err—no." Draco glanced at Hermione. "You've still got him shut up in that cave, right?"

"Last I knew," Hermione agreed. "I can go and get him, but he's going to need transport back with your Portkey. I can't exactly use a public Floo with a wanted criminal."

Narcissa seemed remarkably composed, recovered from her shock of a moment ago.

"I suppose I'll prepare tea in the parlor while you go and retrieve him," she said.

"Better to do it on the patio," Draco suggested, wrinkling his nose. "He's been hiding in a cave in rags. Who knows about his stench."

"The garden, then," his mother snapped. "Honestly, Draco. You can be so crude."

Hermione smiled faintly to herself as she stretched, waiting for Draco to stop arguing with his mother and come along with her. It seemed she might get to see the peacocks after all.