Chapter 3
Hermione bunched the fabric of her robes in her fist, holding it as close to her as she could. It was colder down here than usual and she would have complained except no one seemed to care. She was early this time and they hadn't brought Malfoy in yet. Holding her robe with one hand she spread out her files on the table with the other. Yes, she had a mental breakdown after their last meeting, but she was going to power through. No matter what Malfoy thought, or Harry for that matter, this was important. It wasn't just about Malfoy, it was about every other prisoner in Azkaban being treated unfairly and judged from pre-conceived prejudice. Hermione could see it in the eyes of every worker here: the hate and judgement every time a prisoner was taken to a room, or walked down the hall. That kind of thinking, where they weren't people anymore but just a number, just someone that deserved every evil in the universe because of the evil they had done; was poisonous.
A guard opened the door and escorted Malfoy into the room.
"Already here, Ms Granger?" The guard asked, surprised to see her there so early.
"Obviously," Hermione answered.
Malfoy sat down and the chains fastened themselves around his already bound wrists.
"I'll be just outside the door."
The guard left and Hermione stood quickly and waved her wand, soundlessly locking the door and casting a warming charm on the room.
"Thank Merlin, I was freezing." She took off her robes and hung them on the back of her chair. She was wearing a purple sweater and jeans. She had picked muggle clothing on purpose to see if Malfoy had any negative reactions to it. No, it wasn't exactly the best thing to do morally, as if he were an experiment. But she needed to know if his prejudices were still as prominent as they used to be. She had also decided to be exceptionally nice and hope for the best. "How are you, Malfoy?"
"Fine," he said, staring at the files she had spread out on the desk.
"Was your trip here okay?" This was, Hermione admitted, a very lame attempt at casual conversation. At least it got a reaction out of him.
"What?" Malfoy looked up at her finally and Hermione noticed he didn't linger on her clothes or anything, he hardly seemed to bat an eye at them, his gaze going straight to her face. "What are you doing here Granger?"
"Well if you've forgotten already, I am your lawyer and I'm here to try to get you out of prison."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant. Why are you still trying? What do I have to do to get you to give up?"
"There is nothing you can say or do that will scare me away Malfoy. I'm here for the long haul, so stop trying to antagonise me or scare me away, it won't work." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and jut her chin out.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Most certainly not." Hermione huffed. Annoyed at his childish antics. He seemed to enjoy irritating her. "Now, I brought you this." She put down another box of Tupperware in front of him and opened the lid. "I thought we could discuss this like adults over an amicable meal. What do you say?"
Malfoy stared at the food and, with the same blank expression looked back at her face, then lifted his chained hands and jiggled the chain. "What are you going to do, spoon-feed me?"
Hermione swallowed. "Actually, I was going to slacken your restrains so you could eat." This was the real test. Now, she definitely didn't trust Malfoy, but he was so thin and looked so malnourished she had actually thought about force-feeding him but thinking that just like a wounded animal would need to be coaxed to eat with trust and gentleness.
Malfoy didn't react, didn't raise an eyebrow, didn't seem shocked as Hermione had expected. He simply continued to stare at her.
"Well?" Hermione asked, feeling apprehensive and knowing that this was probably a very bad idea.
He raised his arms and Hermione hesitated a little before raising her wand and flicking it so the ring that held his hands stuck to the table opened. The chain was still fastened to the other end of the table so he wasn't going anywhere but now he had more leg-room. His wrists were still fastened close together, the handcuffs from Azkaban that kept him from using magic stayed on. At first, he did nothing, simply watched his arms raise a little closer to him than he had been able to before. Then his gaze fell on the food next to him and Hermione thought, for a blissful second, that he would start eating it. It was stupid for her to hope he would be civil.
Like a rebellious cat, Malfoy used the back of his hand to slowly edge the bowl off the table, making eye contact with her before throwing it to the floor. Hermione did her best not to show how incredibly pissed off she was and rounded the table to where the food was splattered all across the floor in an orange mess. She held tightly to her wand, flicked it to clean the mess and hover the Tupperware back into her purse. Actually, she felt like she was babysitting or a teacher with an exceptionally raucous student. Now she understood why Harry was so hesitant to apply for that teacher job. Malfoy continued to sit calmly in his chair, watching her movements. Hermione turned to him and took a step closer.
"Malfoy—"
He shot up out of his chair and without warning his hands were fastened around her throat. Hermione was shocked and stared into his grimy face as he tightened his hold. After less than a second Hermione realised what was happening, grabbed her wand and pointed it at his temple. Malfoy closed his eyes and Hermione felt him shiver. Hermione wasn't sure what was going on but his tight hold on her throat slackened the tiniest bit.
"Get off me," she said.
Malfoy's eyes opened again and he brought his face close. "Make me." His expression was almost pleading and Hermione realised that he wanted her to hex him. His shiver… He had gone five years in prison without a touch of magic. He was craving it.
"No," Hermione said, watching him.
His eyebrows scrunched together. "No?" His hold tightened and he pushed her further back against the table.
Hermione wanted to believe that Malfoy wouldn't hurt her, but her courage only went so far. Though she didn't think he would hurt her while they were at a stalemate, she also knew he craved the feel of magic. What could she do? She tried to think of a spell that wasn't harmful but would maybe let him feel magic. Hermione couldn't imagine how horrible it would be to live without magic for so long. Hermione settled on a scourgify for his face. Though it wouldn't clean him properly it would give him a taste of magic.
Malfoy closed his eyes when the magic touched his face. His hands around her neck slackened again while he basked in the feel of it. Hermione continued doing it, small bits at a time, aiming at a patch of dirt here and there on his face. His hands left her throat and instead steadied himself on the table's edge. When there was nothing more for Hermione to clean, she lowered her wand and simply watched him. Malfoy, feeling that she had stopped slowly sank back down in his chair and stared at the floor.
Hermione touched her throat and swallowed. It didn't hurt so that was good. Malfoy said something under his breath that Hermione couldn't hear. Cautiously she leaned closer to hear him.
"What?"
"LEAVE!" Malfoy bellowed and Hermione stumbled back, pushing the table and the feet of it scratched the floor. The chain rattled and pulled Malfoy off the chair and he landed on his knees on the floor. "Fucking… go."
Hermione watched his shoulders shake and realised he was crying. She didn't know how to handle this or how to go about it. She could leave, let him wallow in his own heartache or self-pity. Or she could stay and try to comfort him. Something she knew he wouldn't like or want. But… Hermione couldn't leave him there like that. She was a compassionate person. Hermione dropped to her knees on the floor beside him, hesitant to do much of anything. She was genuinely frightened of him. His outbursts showed how volatile he was, how unpredictable he could be. But he was still a boy, no, a man that had been shown discourtesy, shown nothing but contempt for too long.
Hermione reached out and rest her hand on his, but he snatched them away and shuffled closer to the table until he could lean his forehead against it. "Don't touch me." His voice was weak and shaking, but it held no malice.
"Okay," Hermione said, nibbling on her lip. "I only want to help you, Malfoy."
"I don't want your help."
"Why not?"
Malfoy closed his eyes and Hermione could see a tear try to spill from his eyes before he shook his head, his hair hiding his face from view.
"Please talk to me," Hermione said. "I know I'm just a… a mudblood in your eyes and not worth your time or whatever but—"
"That's not it Granger," Malfoy said, his voice raspy and harsh. "I don't… I don't think that way anymore."
"Then what…?"
He shook his head. "I don't want your help Granger because you've never failed at anything you've taken on."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "Why is that a bad thing?" Malfoy stayed silent and that's when it hit her hard and horrifying; Malfoy wanted to die. Hermione wanted to say something, anything to help him. To tell him that his life was worth something, that it was worth living, worth saving. But she could also see what he was feeling. Five years in Azkaban. Five years to think about what you've done, what you are to everyone you see, the horrible hatred in their eyes, the hopelessness of everyday life. Lingering on when you don't want to. What was appealing about that? "Oh." That was it, that was all she could say.
"I don't need your goddamn pity, Granger. And I definitely don't want your help."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Well too bad." She got up and hit his shoulder. "Get up."
Malfoy looked up at her indignant, his face was blotchy from crying. Hermione adamantly ignored it.
"I said, get up. You will not wallow like this. I won't allow you to."
"You won't allow me to?" He spat, pushing himself up, obviously uncomfortable with her having the high ground.
"No," Hermione said, straightening her spine and pushing her shoulders back. "I am your lawyer and obviously the only person capable of pulling you out of this depression."
Malfoy scoffed. "Don't act like you care Granger."
Now, Hermione allowed herself to look at him with pity. "But I do care." She shook her head. "Malfoy, despite all the horrible things in our past, I don't hold that against you anymore. We were all victims of the war, some of both wars. I've had five years to cope and learn to handle it. While you've had five years of seclusion with nothing but negativity thrown your way."
"You don't get to analyse me."
"I'm not trying to, or at least I'm just trying to understand. I'm trying to fight for what's right in this world Malfoy. I want to help those that need it and you do. No matter how much you want to deny it."
"There's no point Granger." Malfoy sat down in his chair again. "Don't let me tarnish your reputation."
"Reputation?"
"Yeah, your probably spotless list of won cases as a lawyer."
"Oh, that." Hermione felt guilty not telling him that she wasn't technically a lawyer yet. "I'm not worried about that. I spend my time thinking about more important things, like your case and how we're going to win it."
Malfoy sighed. "You are annoyingly stubborn, anyone mention that to you before?"
"Maybe a few times," Hermione said, with a small smile. She flicked her wand to move the desk to its original place and fasten his chains again. "It's gotten me through hard times. It will get you through yours."
