Sleeping with Ghosts
All the cemeteries had been emptied.
All the graves left bare.
Blood for blood.
They would come for her tonight.
The Daily Prophet had called it the trial of the century. The one that would never be forgotten. They would write about it for weeks to come. History would remember it for years to come. Wizards and Witches from all over the world had travelled for miles to spectate the spectacle that had become the wizarding world.
She was a joke.
Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her year, perhaps the brightest witch of the last century. She was the lioness of Gryffindor, the one to break the tide.
Right down the middle.
Hermione stared at the broken ceiling of her Azkaban prison cell. She counted the cracks in the ceiling one by one- anything to distract herself from the ball of anxiety that was running rampant in her stomach. She raised her fingers tracing the lines of the broken cracks. She felt herself commiserating with the broken ceiling. She too like the ceiling had once been whole, pristine and clear without a blemish. But life had been cruel. It hadn't asked her what she wanted. It had weathered her like a storm. An island in the middle of the ocean without life boat in sight.
What remained was the real Hermione Granger.
Like the ceiling she traced faintly with her fingers she bore the cracks that came with time. The wear and tear that life had decided belonged to her.
"Its time"
Hermione turned to look at who had interrupted her musings- smiling slightly.
Boston Mc Leoud.
Boston Mc Leoud had been in Switzerland when war had erupted in the wizarding world. In Switzerland he had remained for the many months blood had been spilt. He was grateful. Grateful he had not been in London when the ministry had fallen and many of his friends fallen with it. Grateful he had not been called upon to fight. Grateful he was out of sight.
Out of mind.
He had been called many things during his 44 years.
He had been called a snake by the family of a 90 year old witch whom he had taken to court for not trimming her hedge.
A liar when he had cheated his ex-wife of her alimony money that she had rightfully earned.
Most recently, a coward.
When he had forced himself out of sight of Deatheaters and out of the mind of the Order.
That was until the story of Hermione Granger had broken international waters.
Boston Mc Leoud knew the trial of Hermione Granger would be remembered forever. He wanted to be remembered forever.
"Are you ready for this?"
Hermione shrugged and looked up at her lawyer smiling slightly before resuming her counting of the cracks in the ceiling. Tracing the line of a deep crack within the cement.
Boston sighed loudly, his frustration evident as his rubbed his hand over his face.
"Hermione. You remember what I said right? This isn't going to work if you don't start actually listening to me. When you walk in there, they are going to be throwing everything they have at us. We need to be prepared. It's my job to prepare you and my job to make sure you walk out of this with a life"
Hermione stared at him quietly, pausing for a moment.
"It's not fair of him to make you promise that" she replied sadly suddenly feeling sorry for the short chubby man before her.
She didn't mean to be difficult.
She didn't want to be indifferent.
But the visit of dead green eyes the night before had left her in the company of her madness for the majority of the night. Fighting for her sanity and holding on with the tips of her fingers.
This was what remained.
"Fair or not, he is paying me a lot of money to make sure you have a life after this. In order for me to do that I need you to listen to me. Don't speak unless you check with me. Don't let the prosecution bait you. They are looking for a reaction. Don't give them anything. What you want to do is to give them at little as possible"
Hermione sat up slowly, doing her best to flatten her hair the best she could. She dragged herself over to the small basin in the corner of her cell shaking while she washed her hands and washed her face. She looked at the small mirror in front of her.
She didn't recognise the girl that stared back.
Her hair had lost its bushy curls and lay lifeless against her pale skin.
Her bright brown eyes sinking within the hollow black circles that surrounded them.
Her lips blue, broken and chapped.
"Remember, you want to look remorseful. You didn't know what you were doing. You were overcome with grief…" Boston prattled on while Hermione attempted to drown him out.
She had heard it all before a thousand times.
It was expected of her.
They wanted to her to walk into that room. The room full of classmates she had once broken bread with. Friends she had fought long and hard with. People who at one point in time would have done anything for her.
Were now her executioners.
They wanted her to be sorry. To beg for forgiveness. To tell them why it had all happened and when it had all gone wrong.
"I knew all along she was too perfect to be true" said those who had been waiting for her to fall from her pedestal
"He must had used the Imperius curse on her" Said those who wish to remain blissfully ignorant of the truth- she envied them.
"She is a traitor" said those whom she had wronged- she couldn't blame them.
And then there were those who would settle for nothing but blood.
"She deserves the dementors kiss"
These were who she feared the most.
Hermione turned to look at her lawyer who had just finished explaining that posture and appearance made a difference to the outcome of the trial.
"Boston I want to thank you for everything you have done. I also want you to know, no matter what happens I know you did the best you could"
Boston laughed nervously unleashing a slight unattractive snort in the process
"You are walking out of here today a free woman Hermione" he replied automatically.
Hermione smiled sardonically in response.
A true professional to the end.
"I knew my chances from day one. He did too. " she replied.
Hermione moved to the front of the cell door as two prison guards apparated simultaneously. Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
She didn't' cry.
Not anymore.
"Boston, it's not your fault" she implored as chains magically appeared on her wrists and around her ankles.
He nodded mutely in return.
"Fault or not, you're not the only one on trial tonight"
She knew what awaited her. A sea of nameless faces she no longer cared to remember. Faces of the families she had in one moment loved and betrayed.
They were no longer coming for her.
They were here.
