Chapter 2

"It didn't go well," Hermione said, holding a cup of tea with both hands to warm them.

Harry chuckled. "What did you expect? It's Malfoy."

"I know. Honestly, I didn't think I'd get it today in any case. I mean I've been pestering them about this for almost three years without any response."

"Literally giving you the run-around," Harry said with a nod.

"Figuratively."

"Or that." Harry smiled. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Be better prepared next time?"

"You're seriously going back there? After he yelled at you?"

"Okay sure," Hermione said. "He did yell at me, and told me he didn't care either way and told me to piss off… But he never called me mudblood, only a vague reference to the past. He looked me in the eye when ranting over me, and he genuinely looked like he was trying to convince me to stop."

"And because of that you're not going to."

"Exactly. You don't tell Hermione Granger what to do." Hermione straightened her back and sipped her cup of tea.

"What if he doesn't want your stubborn help? Don't get me wrong Hermione, I love how determined you are, we all do. But Malfoy… maybe he is a lost cause. Especially since he's given up himself."

"He's spent five years in Azkaban, that would kill anyone's spirit…" Harry gave her a look. "I know what you mean Harry, but there's no one fighting for him. He may have been misguided but never evil. He doesn't deserve to be treated so horrifically. It's prejudice and I won't sit idly by and let it happen."

Harry shrugged and finished his cup of tea. "Did you get Ron's owl?"

"I did," Hermione said stiffly, taking a prolonged sip of her tea,

"You can't ignore him forever. This is taxing on me too you know."

"I know Harry, but it's not really about you, now is it?" Hermione stroked circles on the hard-wooden table. "I'm not ready to talk to him yet. I'm just not sure I can open that door again."

"Alright," Harry said, standing from the table. "I should get going."

"Did you send in your application to Hogwarts yet?"

Harry stuck out his tongue. "Bite me."

Hermione laughed. "Come on Harry, I know how tired you are of being an Auror."

"Stop mothering me!" Harry called from the hall.

"Never!"

The door of 12 Grimmauld place shut as Harry exited and Hermione was alone in the kitchen. She held her empty tea cup for a moment longer, soaking in the familiar silence. Gently setting the cup down on the saucer she took her wand from her pocket, waved it and the cup went to the sink to clean itself. Hermione took two steps at a time up the creaky steps to her room. It was a lot smaller than her old bedroom in her childhood home, but comfy enough. Moving in with Harry was supposed to be temporary but things hadn't gone as planned. So, most of her stuff was still in boxes in other rooms in the spacious house. Unopened just in case she decided to move on a moments' notice. It was stupid really.

Hermione fell back onto her mattress and stared at her lone bookshelf. It hadn't made sense to unpack all her books at the time, so now there was only one bookshelf full of the books she had bought since moving and all of her textbooks on wizarding law. A pin board hung on the wall next to it, pictures and papers pinned in a haphazard order that only she could understand. Her desk, also overflowing with papers and folders of different colours, was pushed against the only window in the room. All her research on Malfoy's case was the reason for the current chaos on her desk and pin board.

Hermione neared her desk and flipped through a few papers. Most were in her own handwriting, notes and observations. Others were copies from transcripts. Technically, Hermione wasn't a lawyer yet. She was still writing her thesis. She would have graduated by now if it wasn't for the big writers' block she'd had for a year and a half. In her desk drawer was the initial mock-up of her thesis, the first twelve pages she finished before not being able to continue. "Prejudice and injustice in Magical Society" is the title she had given it. Although it had changed many times; "Progression of prejudice before and after The Second Wizarding War", too long. "Death Eaters" too vague. "Hermione sucks and can't make a title to save her life" something that came to her at four in the morning while slaving over the topic of her thesis. Instead of pulling that out, Hermione took a blank piece of parchment and wrote a note to Molly Weasley.

"Kreacher?"

"What can Kreacher do for mistress Granger?"

"Could you take this to Molly Weasley please?" Hermione said as kindly as she could muster.

"It would be Kreacher's pleasure," Kreacher said with an upturned lip, taking the note and then with a loud snap was gone again.

The house-elf still despised her, not as much as he once did, but it was still there. He didn't show it in front of Harry, being careful never to call her the m word. But his displeasure was obvious to Hermione when it was just the two of them. Neither Hermione nor Harry had an owl, so if they wanted to send a message it was easier to get Kreacher to do it rather than renting a ministry owl.

Hermione sat down in front of her desk and opened the blue folder buried underneath three other folders, all in different colours of course. It was Malfoy's initial file. It had a picture of him before he went to Azkaban, holding his prison number plate. Looking as haughty as he ever did in school. Five years in the prison had changed him greatly. Hermione couldn't even imagine how she would handle it.

"What am I going to do with you?" She asked the Malfoy picture.

Hermione held her handbag close to her body as she stepped back into interrogation room 2 the week after their first meeting. Malfoy sat in the same place, with the same stance and his hands restrained by chains on the table. Hermione wondered for a moment that he might as well have been there the whole week, he sat as still as a statue. When the guard closed the door behind her she gently put her bag on the table and took out a box of Tupperware and pushed it towards Malfoy, watching his face for a reaction.

"I brought you some food," Hermione said hesitantly, hanging her bag on her chair.

Malfoy looked at the Tupperware then back at her.

"It's stew," Hermione continued, reaching over to take the lid off. "Mrs. Weasley made it." Her voice had the same kind of sweetness to it like when she talked to Kreacher. Like when you tried to keep a very dangerous animal calm. "It's really good." Malfoy continued to be quiet and didn't seem at all affected by the wonderful smell that filled the room. "Come on Malfoy. Try to look at it like a peace offering…"

"No," he said.

"No?"

"No." Malfoy shifted in his seat. "I thought I made it quite clear last time Granger. I do not want your help or your 'peace offerings'."

"Could you at least try to be a little courteous to me?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was being very respectful Granger, unless you want me to say what first popped into my head?"

Hermione pursed her lips and slammed the lid back on the stew and pushed it back into her purse. "Fine. Whatever."

Malfoy's lips twitched, as if he were going to smirk but then it disappeared. "Finally giving up? Admitting defeat?"

"You really don't know me at all Malfoy if you think I'm going to just quit after one bad meeting. I have tougher skin than that. We have nine weeks before your hearing. That's loads of time to make a case for your release."

"I could also just refuse to see you, make it harder."

Hermione huffed. "Actually, you can't. You have no say in that. These meetings are obligatory before a trial and I intend to use them all, and maybe even add extra."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're doing this just to annoy me. Is that what this is? A little payback for the Hogwarts years? Taking Karma into your own hands."

"No, Malfoy. I'm not that spiteful." Hermione reached her hand deep into her purse fishing out a black folder and setting it on the table. "Let's just start."

"No," Malfoy said with the stubborn tone of a five-year old.

"Oh grow up Malfoy! I'm doing this case, I am going to be your defence attorney and you'll just have to deal with it."

"Do you have nothing better to do with your life? So deprived of ideas for your dull life you have to butt your nose into other people's business? How is life with the boy-who-wouldn't-die and his red-headed sidekick? All happily ever after?"

Hermione ignored him and opened the file. "I think our main angle should be the whole underage thing and negative influence."

"Ooooh, trouble in paradise?" Malfoy leaned forward. "Life must be hard having to put up with the ditsy duo, always having to hold their hands through everything and all, but you don't need to project on everyone else."

"We should probably start by talking about your childhood and your parents." Hermione continued. "How they were involved in the first world war and their views were passed on to you."

"I'm not talking about my parents."

Hermione tried to hide her smile, glad her bait worked. "Not talking about them is kind of impossible, seeing as they're the biggest reason you're here in the first place."

"I will NOT talk about my parents!" Malfoy shot up out of his seat, toppling his chair over and jangling his chains.

Hermione jumped back a little, caught off guard by his sudden outburst. His eyes struck her the most, almost deranged and she saw in him then what she had seen in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black on his wanted posters back in third year.

"Malfoy," she said, trying her best to keep her voice level. "Calm down."

He stood, still staring into her eyes with such fierce rage she wanted to look away. But this was a battle she wasn't willing to give up. She would not be the weak one. He would not win. Hermione fetched her wand, waved it and the chair behind him right itself again. His gaze moved to her wand and his face showed unmistakable greed. Hermione quickly stowed her wand away again and averted her gaze. Malfoy sat back down, the chain around his wrists jingling as it slackened on top of the table.

Hermione's hand shook as she pushed the papers back into the folder and closed it. She splayed both hands on top of it, forcing them to be still. She needed to gather her bearings, be professional. But all she wanted to do was run away and cry. She hadn't been yelled at like that in so long. She hadn't felt that threatened in… no, she couldn't go there. Not here. Not in front of him.

"I'll see you on Thursday," Hermione said, holding the folder to her chest and picking her bag off the chair. She didn't look back. Closed the door with a resounding thunk and then forced her legs to stay confident and steady on her way to the fireplaces, preparing to floo home. Or to Grimmauld. As close to home as she had now, she supposed.

She took one step out of the floo in the living room and her leg buckled underneath her. Hermione dropped her bag and her hands slammed down on the floor. She groaned, more from the ache in her heart than the pain in her hands. She fought hard at the memories that pushed against her temple. Wanting to force their way through to the surface.

A throat-ripping scream tore from her as she saw Bellatrix above her, pushing the cursed blade further into her arm. Carving the hatred with her blood.

"Hermione!" Harry pulled Hermione up off her hands and shook her by her shoulders. "Hermione focus, you're safe. I'm here." He pulled her into his chest and she sobbed against his shirt.

"I'm not lying, I'm not…" Hermione muttered against Harry's chest in between sobs.

Harry stroked her back. "I know. It's over Hermione. She's not here. She's dead."

Hermione swallowed in between quick and shaky breaths. She nodded. Trying to force herself to believe his words. In her head, she knew he was right, that this wasn't real. It wasn't really happening again. But her body told her otherwise. Her forearm still stung from the blade. Her whole body shook from the crucio's.

Minutes ticked by as Harry comforted her on the living room floor. Stroking her arm or back or hair until her sobs died down and she slowly stopped shaking.

"Did Malfoy trigger this?" Harry asked, his voice strained but strong.

Hermione could only nod.

"Don't go back there," Harry said firmly. "What if I'm not home next time and this happens?"

"It won't," Hermione said, her voice weak and croaky. "I was just caught off guard."

"Hermione, come on."

"No Harry. I'm not going to let this control me. I will face my demons not flee from them."

"And if the demons are too much for you to handle on your own?"

"Then I have you," Hermione said, giving him a warm smile. "I need a bath."

"Fine."

Harry helped her to stand and then walked with her up the stairs even though she said she could manage it on her own. Ever protective. Finally soaking in the tub Hermione relaxed her limbs, feeling the satisfying tingle in her muscles. She hated her 'episodes'. Thankfully, she hadn't gotten them quite as frequently lately. They were few and far between. Time and therapy had really done her good. Maybe Harry was right. Malfoy might be too big of a trigger. Not only did he seem unhinged but he was also related to Bellatrix. Though the similarities ended there they were big enough to possibly trigger more episodes later.

So, the real question was: did she continue going, through pure stubbornness and embodying everything that was her Gryffindor courage? Or, did she call it quits, gracefully accepting that this would be too hard for her emotionally and tucking her tail between her legs like a defeated dog.

She knew which option she liked more, but was it the right choice? Most likely not.