Draco gave himself a week to respond to her letter. He continued ignoring Potter's owls.

"Dear—"

No. Too weird.

"Hello—"

Still weird.

"Granger—"

It mirrored her salutation. A good start.

"Granger,

Thank you for your strangely worded sentiments on the passing of my father. If you're worried you offended me, you didn't. If I can believe anyone capable of sparing a decent thought when they should not, it would be you.

I don't know what you want from me. I've told Pansy I'd help her with Goyle's case if she wanted, but besides footing the legal bill, and as it appears the cost of the help is not the issue at hand, I'm not sure what I can offer.

I suppose I can direct some gold towards this prisoners' fund if that is your ultimate aim. I can have my solicitors send over my standard document for donation if you'd like to fill it out. I don't know that my surname has quite the sway it used to with court members, or the public, for that matter.

Best of luck with your crusade. For what it's worth, thank you for the kindness you've shown Pansy.

Sincerely,

D.M."

"Malfoy,

You're welcome. And thank you, I suppose, for your strangely worded compliment on my ability to express compassion.

I am not looking for your gold. You have something more valuable to offer beyond money.

I think you're wrong about the perception of your family. Public opinion is actually quite sympathetic towards you and your mother at the moment and I think we can take advantage of this.

My employer has partnered with a few other human rights groups to build momentum behind a Prisoners' Rights Act (I've attached a copy of the Bill, if you're interested).

We'll be presenting testimony at a hearing in front of the Wizengamot at the end of the month and I think your presence could aid our cause. I'll even draft your remarks for you.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger."

"Granger,

I read through the proposed Bill you've sent. It's ambitious, to say the least.

I'll draft my own remarks, thank you very much. Any words out of my mouth will be my own. Besides, you'd probably have me declare something grossly sentimental and I'll not have any of your bleeding-heart tendencies associated with me.

Sincerely,

D.M."

"Malfoy,

Am I to assume that means you'll appear before the court? You're not officially associated with our firm as we've already selected our allotted witnesses, so you'll be appearing as a private citizen. If you need public speaking training, I do have some contacts through work that I can share with you.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger."

"Granger,

Do be serious. Any moron that requires formal training in reading off prepared notes is beyond help, professional or otherwise. I've included a copy of my statement. I think you'll find it impeccably crafted.

-D.M."

"Malfoy,

I can admit, this is quite good. I've annotated some sections where I think you could be more concise. You need to keep the focus on your personal tragedy, how rehabilitation and humane treatment of prisoners is good for the family unit instead of spending all these sentences complaining about Aurors who wear glasses.

And could you please answer just one of Harry's owls? Now that he knows we're in contact I'm getting bothered by Floo, owl, and phone at all hours.

-Hermione Granger."

"Granger,

You're telling me that not only has my silence irritated Potter but you as well? Sorry Granger, that's too excellent an outcome, and I shan't be changing my behaviour.

I'll take your suggestions for my speech under advisement.

Thank you,

D.M."

"Malfoy,

Please find enclosed the schedule for the official hearing before the Wizengamot as well as the instructions for getting through security at the Ministry. Harry and Angelina will meet you in the Atrium.

I appreciate your willingness to cooperate.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger."

He'd engaged his Occlumency shields up until now.

"The court will now hear testimony from Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Wiltshire."

Draco focused on nothing but the clicking of his shoes as he approached the podium at the front of the chamber. Then he concentrated on the feel of the smooth, polished wood as he gripped the sides of the stand. The last time he'd been in this courtroom (on his fucking 18th birthday, no less), he'd been chained to a chair and awaiting his fate as a fallen foot soldier; a disposable ne'er-do-well.

Now, Draco faced the haughty, wizened faces above as the sole living male representative of the Malfoy family. He stood tall and proud and hoped his contribution in the form of a grieving son seeking a legitimate avenue to pursue recompense for his and his mother's loss would be deemed worthwhile.

He'd play the part today and that should be more than enough to satisfy the curiosity of the press, the meddlesome tendencies of Potter and Granger, and his promise to Pansy. His friend had owled him this morning to wish him luck, thank him, and warn Draco if he did not destroy this paper trail of sappiness she'd break into his home and do it herself.

Narcissa had fussed over his robes before he left and said she was proud of him. She once again declined to accompany him and informed him she'd be spending the day entertaining her sister.

Draco performed one final inhale and exhale then launched into a measured, confident delivery of his prepared remarks.

"Esteemed witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. I appear before you today as a son who lost a father to preventable circumstances. I harbour no illusions about the type of man my father was before his imprisonment. What I do know is that he dutifully served his sentence, as determined by this very court.

My father was denied the chance to return home after paying his debt to society. He left behind a wife and son who were denied the chance to rebuild their family life in peace. I would not wish this sorrow upon any other person, this denial of a happy reunion.

He was denied that chance because no official procedure exists for oversight of guard rotations. There are no mandatory official records kept for shift hours of guards. There is no official background check procedure for hiring the witches and wizards that we entrust to guard Azkaban. There is no official reporting mechanism for incidents at the prison.

This Act would go a long way in preventing further tragedies like the murder of my father by a person charged with his care that should never have been given the responsibility.

Our society must be able to have faith in our sacred institutions: in our educational system, in our government, our laws, and yes, our prison system.

Otherwise, we find ourselves at risk of a self-perpetuating cycle of vigilante justice. Otherwise, we will find ourselves with a mistreated prisoner population that turns not to rehabilitation upon freedom, but recidivism.

The other individuals testifying today can speak more to the other tenets of this sorely needed reform. They will speak and present evidence for why one of the pillars of a successful and just society must be the humane treatment of prisoners. I ask that you carefully consider their words as they detail the benefits of an incarcerated population that does not experience abuse or torture.

I ask that the court vote in favor of this Prisoners' Rights Act. To move our world forward, we must be willing to conduct self-examination and, when necessary, perform the course correction that will set the stage for continued peace.

Thank you for your time."

Draco stepped back and inclined his head respectfully at the court seated above on their raised benches. He would have much preferred a parting smirk and a two-finger salute, but thought it might undermine his prior eloquence.

"The Wizengamot will now hear testimony from Auror Harry James Potter."

Draco did, however, indulge in a smirk at a passing Potter.

Good luck following that, Scar-Head.

Draco took a seat in the gallery next to Angelina Johnson, per her instructions upon his arrival that morning.

"Not bad Malfoy," she whispered as he sat down.

"How much longer am I required to hang around?"

Johnson shrugged. "Hermione will do her bit after Harry. Then there's a recess for lunch. You can go then I suppose, the afternoon hearing will be former prisoners and the activist groups."

Draco sat back in his seat, luxuriating in the comfort of having performed his duty and eagerly anticipating leaving this airless chamber.

He'd planned to adopt the detached air of a man befitting his station in life, resigned out of common courtesy to remain seated and listen to a hackneyed, over-emotional speech given by the Saviour of the wizarding world.

But didn't Potter go and surprise him.

The normally barely intelligible git had come prepared with not only research citations, but actual case studies of the treatment of prisoners. Not just any case examples: Sirius Black (thrown to Dementors with no trial), Rubeus Hagrid (locked away for a false accusation), Stan Shunpike (same story but for even less of a crime), and the more risqué choice of Bartemious Crouch, Jr. (an embarrassing example of lax security and oversight if you're the Ministry, in Draco's opinion).

It would have had more of an effect on Draco if Potter possessed any sort of proper comportment of his limbs when delivering a speech this important. Merlin, Draco was tempted to magically affix those dumb glasses to the moron's face so he would stop fussing with them and pushing them up his irritating nose every five minutes.

"Didn't think Potter had it in him," Draco drawled under his breath as Potter wrapped up his plea with a reminder of how easily a disenfranchised group could be swayed by the disturbing ideals spouted by Lord Voldemort. Draco, along with most of the chamber, shivered involuntarily at the confident way Potter stated the name.

"Oh, Hermione wrote all that. He's just the face," said Johnson with a wry grin.

Granger.

Draco finally saw her then, seated next to an older, austere wizard in sleek, tailored professional black robes. Not the kind of day-wear found in any shop, no, a man of Draco's upbringing recognized custom tailoring and expensive fabric even from a distance. Sterling Mandell's hair shone as silver as his given name, a neat and precise haircut for a neat and precise man.

Draco had noticed his distinct, sharply dressed presence at high-profile charity galas over the past few years, but their paths had never personally crossed. His reputation as a cutthroat barrister preceded him, but outside of his courtroom successes, not much was known of his personal life.

Draco's eye fell upon Granger then, as she rose gracefully and gave Potter an encouraging smile.

"The Wizengamot will now hear testimony from Ms. Hermione Jean Granger as a representative with Mandell & Associates."

Potter made his way to Draco and Johnson in the gallery and to Draco's great annoyance, sat on his opposite side. Caged in by the Auror partners, he'd not be leaving here anytime soon. Fantastic.

Then Granger took a fortifying breath and addressed the court.

She pitched Draco back in time and he saw her in battle again; ruthless and efficient.

Attack and defend. Attack and defend.

Smarter than everyone in the room and she fucking knew it. Draco now understood why a reputably discerning man like Sterling Mandell wanted her at his firm, in his corner.

Granger did not look like the woman in his dream. Nor the woman he'd noticed at the Ministry gala years ago. She appeared closer to the girl he'd seen on one of the worst nights of his life, with Snape steering him through a school turned into a warzone.

She stood, chin raised, voice ringing out as she volleyed back a rebuttal, parried a dissent, fought for and defended this bill. On the same side of battle lines as Draco, this time.

She was magnificent. A force of fiery nature, expertly wielding her words, throwing argument after argument at her adversaries.

So alive, so bright, in the throes of battle. Attack and defend, attack and defend.

Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, cloaking her like the laurels of a decorated veteran, a model of proud heroism.

A warrior woman, fierce in the defence of her cause.

"Bloody brilliant, isn't she?" whispered Potter, unnecessarily. "Do you know she once told Rufus Scrimgeour to his face that she wouldn't want a career in magical law because she wanted to do something good with her life? The cheek, honestly," Potter chuckled. "But here she is anyway."

"Overachieving per usual," Draco muttered.

He hadn't seen her in a few years. In person anyway. He'd seen her in his mind's eye often enough, or rather a version of her, he supposed. And perhaps he'd seen that version a few times during his morning showers. Or late nights alone in his bed. Or even while buried inside Astoria.

Granger wrapped up and though silence echoed in her wake, Draco knew if court protocol allowed for it, she would have finished to thunderous applause.

"You and your partner have me quite at your mercy," grumbled Draco, now that his mind was no longer elsewhere. "Care to inform me of the true nature of your desperate bids for my attention? If you weren't married to Weaselette I'd think you were quite enamoured with me."

Potter didn't rise to the bait, but at least Johnson let out an amused snort.

He let out a long sigh. "I'm so bloody tired, Malfoy. Of having to still keep fighting for the most basic of rights for people. It's maddening. Merlin knows how Hermione does it."

"Granger is a different breed from the rest of us."

Both Potter and Johnson made strangled, throat-clearing noises of disbelief.

"Don't tell me you still believe all that blood purity rot," said Potter incredulously.

"Relax Potter, not what I meant. If you spent a few extra precious seconds thinking on my words, you'll realise I meant it as a compliment."

"Ah," said Potter. "Well, she is that, I suppose. She cares, actually cares, about improving things."

Pansy described Granger in a similar manner.

"Lovely," sneered Draco. "Still waiting for you to explain what this has got to do with me. My father's death, while tragic, was hardly a conspiracy. Some nutter who shouldn't have held a position of power killed him. That's it. I've got no vendetta to execute, he's locked away now, and that's that."

Potter didn't appear to have heard him. "I have it on decent authority that this Act will get passed. And when it does, we'll have our opening."

"Opening?"

Potter exchanged a glance with Johnson, who took out her wand and performed a rather impressive non-verbal Muffliato Charm around them.

"Angelina and I have had some… inklings of a cover-up going on at Azkaban. Reports that don't quite add up, prisoner statements that don't make sense. The Department of Mysteries was involved for a bit and well… it's all rather… suspicious."

"For fuck's sake Potter, how many times and ways can I say that I do not care. Speak plainly: what has this got to do with me?"

"All I can say for now is that Hermione will be in touch."

"Don't care."

Potter levelled him with an intense stare of bright green. "Do you care about repaying a life debt?"

"Hmm interesting coming from someone who tried to murder me in Sixth Year."

"I testified for you. As did Hermione."

"Ah, I see. You think I owe the lot of you. I paid my dues, Potter, my whole family did, and look where it got my father. So, you'll have to forgive me if I bow out now. Not to worry, the Malfoy family will continue to bankroll St. Mungo's, all the war relief efforts, even this advocacy fund Granger wants set up. Just let us hand out our unending wealth in peace, it's all this world ever wanted from me and mine anyway."

"You're wrong, Malfoy," Potter stood and Johnson did the same. "You did a good thing today. You could do more, if you wanted. Just think on it."

The two Aurors left Draco to stare unseeing at the stone walls of the courtroom and wonder about the path his life had taken that he'd seriously consider that cryptic offer.

Boredom and curiosity.

Nothing more than restless boredom and idle curiosity brought Draco to accept a meeting invitation to the offices of Mandell & Associates.

Pansy was busy being a shut-in and learning legal theory.

Blaise was full-up with his caseload of patients.

Theo was wrapped up in… whatever Theo spent his time working on in the Department of Mysteries.

Narcissa was preoccupied with her newfound relationship with Andromeda. Aunt Andromeda, Draco reminded himself.

Which left Draco with an abundance of spare time and nothing and no one to distract him.

Except for an owl from Hermione Granger containing a most intriguing request.

Would Draco be willing to meet her at her firm's office to discuss his involvement in the newly established prisoners' advocate initiative?

His involvement. Worded like a foregone conclusion.

One of the tenets of the recently passed Prisoners' Rights Act had included the installation of a pool of do-gooders who would oversee prison conditions, make sure everyone was properly fed and watered and probably loads of other basic life amenities so that the dregs of humanity would be treated more like people as opposed to animals.

And Draco did. Not. Fucking. Care.

He only agreed to this meeting because of the boredom. And to satisfy his curiosity. The second it proved to be a waste of his time, Draco eagerly anticipated the Howler he'd be sending Potter's way.

Draco expected the sleek, modern design of the law offices, as he Floo'ed into a spacious room decorated in cool metals, neutral colors, and tasteful flourishes of potted plants, abstract art, and various vases. It reeked of a new world touch bankrolled by old world money.

Unexpectedly, he had not Floo'ed into Granger's office.

Because Granger did not greet him when he dusted off and straightened his robes. Instead, Draco found himself staring into the cold, blue eyes of Sterling Mandell.

"Mr. Malfoy," he held a hand out for a quick, decisive handshake.

"Mr. Mandell."

"Please, call me Sterling. Shall I have tea or coffee brought in for you?"

"Neither, thank you."

Everything about the statuesque, grey-haired man seemed chiseled; a person whittled to a fine point. From the severe sleekness of his coiffure to the sharp edges of the facial features to the crisp, charcoal three-piece suit, Sterling presented someone not so much based in flesh and blood, but rather in stone and ice.

Draco took in his surroundings while he waited to hear the reason for this meeting. He noticed a complete lack of personal effects: no photographs, no mementos, no framed degrees, awards, or accolades on the walls. The office of a man who neither wanted nor needed any sentimental distractions while preoccupied with work. The only hint at humanity—as opposed to a sentient legal filing—glinted at Draco from the fourth finger of Sterling's left hand in the form of a platinum wedding band.

"You'll be working with Miss Granger on her advocate initiative, correct?"

"That remains to be seen, as I've yet to meet with her."

Sterling offered neither an apology nor an explanation for Granger's absence.

"Do Muggleborns bother you?"

"No more than any other sector of humankind."

If the older wizard accepted Draco's truthful statement as such, he gave no visible signal.

"I'm Muggleborn," intoned Sterling. "I remember your father from Hogwarts. We were in the same year, you know."

He'd had too many people try to use the name of his father as a form of provocation in recent years to get worked up about it now. Draco said nothing to this reveal, unaware of the man's background and surprised at both pieces of information.

"Ravenclaw," supplied Sterling.

"Sorry?"

"I can see it written on your forehead. I was in Ravenclaw. It does endlessly amuse me to have people assume Slytherin before learning of my heritage. But that particular quadrant of the school population does not have a monopoly on the traits it boasts of its students. A poorly conceived system, sorting children on perceived strengths and weaknesses. Then again, the wizarding world and the Muggle world do share more, culturally, than magical folk care to admit. Humans do love to divide arbitrarily based on rather inconsequential variances of biology, temperament, sexuality, so on and so forth."

Draco couldn't tamp down his curiosity this time. "Were you an Order member?"

"No," came the decisive reply. "I left a world that made it clear it did not want me. I had a lucrative career awaiting me in the Muggle world, so no, I left instead. I let the rest of you sort it out and once the benevolent government here decided I qualified as a wizard instead of vermin, I decided to make my grand return."

Sterling leaned back in his chair. "I handle all manner of lawsuits, though fraud is my specialty. Corporate lawsuits with Galleon values so large it'd make a man's head spin, well," he inclined his head towards Draco, "most men. Perhaps not a Malfoy. But while my line of work brought me in plenty of gold, Hermione Granger brought me something Galleons could not buy: an excellent reputation. Therefore, I let her do as she likes, and she's damn good at it, even if I find many of her crusades far too idealistic. So, I'm asking you now if you have a problem working with Muggleborns because if you muck up her career or her work in any way, I will personally see to it that you are ruined, socially and politically speaking. Though she has less refined friends, as I'm sure you know, who would delight in the cruder, physical forms of retribution."

Draco couldn't think of anything less threatening than Granger's moronic social circle, but the first part of the warning hit its mark.

"I hardly think it will come to that. As I've said before, it still remains to be seen whether I work with her at all."

Sterling surveyed him neutrally again. Draco had never seen the man perform in the courtroom, but could imagine him as the type of barrister who was very good at getting a witness to divulge far more than they'd want to before they knew what was happening.

He gave off the distinct air of being constantly disappointed in the intellectual capacity of his conversation partner, but would neither verbally confirm nor deny this, preferring to let you sit and stew about all your faults and failings.

"She's keen to have your help with this. Now as I've said, I knew your father. I do know of your mother, but I do not know you. You gave a pretty speech at the hearing; one that played very well with both the court and the press. I do not care if you meant any of it. But I do care if you damage either her career or reputation."

"Noted."

"Now, have I sufficiently enraged you enough for you to storm out of here in a huff? Or may I escort you to Hermione's office where she'll properly catch you up on her new project?"

Draco heard the actual question underlying the spoken ones: which parent do you take after more?

"Lead the way."

The top of Granger's hair greeted Draco as he entered her office.

"My owl said 10."

"Take it up with your employer then."

She looked up from her work with an exasperated huff.

"Oh, for the love of… my apologies, I'll speak to Sterling later. He's rather protective of his employees, but he shouldn't have ambushed you like that."

The warrior did not greet him. Today, Draco found the polished yet preoccupied solicitor. Neat robes, and an attempt at neat hair but it seemed she'd never truly conquered those curls. They suited her now, as opposed to overwhelming her. A successful, fetching young woman with a corner office with walls boasting her many personal accolades, including an Order of Merlin, First Class.

She stood and came around her desk, leaned back against it, and wrung her hands anxiously.

"I hope he didn't say anything too untoward. He can be a bit sharp with new people."

She let out a nervous little laugh. "My dad calls him 'The Jaw.'"

When Draco didn't react, she rambled on. "You know, because of his bone structure and Mandell sounds sort of like mandible? And my father's a dentist… anyway, it's not actually that funny, but you know," she shrugged. "Dad humour and all that."

Though he recognised her attempt at an ice-breaker between two adults who'd never shared a civil conversation in person, did she really think he could relate?

Draco had no more time for attempts at politeness. Or at least, he'd like Granger to think that.

"According to your letter, you'd like my assistance with this advocate programme."

"In a way." She gestured for him to sit and returned to her desk chair.

"It's more of a simple cover story. To everyone else, it will appear that you're interested in donating to our programme to help your name, and so you're overseeing this prisoners' advocate programme during the launch period. And to honour your father's memory after his murder. People will believe it, too."

After the oddly circuitous interrogation by Sterling and the infuriating lack of information from Potter, the forthrightness of Granger was a welcome change.

"And why am I really here Granger? You and Potter seem to have it all figured out and now you've roped me into some scheme of yours."

"You're here to help me interview a specific subset of prisoners. Harry can't waltz into Azkaban too often or he'd arouse suspicion. And I highly doubt he'd get honest answers. The inmates don't trust him and they trust other Aurors even less. But with this new Act we got pushed through, we will actually have access to these people. We need information only you could potentially provide if you accompany me. And, to be honest, I thought you might like to help. Do some good."

"What gave you that impression?"

She deflected an elaboration with a shrug. "Harry and I don't know who we can trust right now, outside of Angelina and Sterling."

"Yet you trust me?"

She sized him up. "I trust that you will do anything for the people you love. I trust that you have matured enough to take this seriously. And I trust that you would not actively cause harm during this… less than above-board investigation."

Draco said nothing. He felt an odd combination of indignant and flattered.

"Word gets around. I see your aunt regularly, you know. I hear she's been reconnecting with you and your mother."

Draco said nothing. Again. Did it unnerve her for Draco to be this silent while she made sweeping judgements about his character? Did Granger anticipate a tantrum? A scathing, surly denial?

She kept talking as if she did.

"You could have sued the prison. You could have brought them so low with just the barest of lawsuits. But you didn't."

"Your point?"

"You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect? The same boy from Hogwarts?"

Granger canted her head side to side. "Not quite. As I've said, word gets around, and you seem to have progressed from your former… lifestyle. Whether or not it's all an act will probably reveal itself shortly."

"I'm sorry for it."

It fell out of his mouth, dropped into the space between them, and made a slow advance towards her. Did she consider it a creeping tendril of harm, to be cut down by her? Or a hesitant olive branch to be welcomed?

She made no move towards either rejection or acceptance.

Draco elaborated. Poorly.

"What I did…. or didn't do… or… right, well. Sorry. I'm sorry for it all."

"I gathered."

"No, really, I am sorry."

She let out the long-suffering sigh of a disillusioned adult thrice her age.

"I'm sick of it, Malfoy, please just save it, honestly. Do you know how many apologies I've received since it all ended? Empty words, most of them, in my opinion. I'd rather see repentant actions, personally. Ministry bureaucrats and politicians are sorry I had to go on the run because of the Muggleborn Registration Act? Well then pass laws that make sure it doesn't happen again. Actions over words."

She didn't seem to lump him in with the adults and others in power who'd failed her. Who'd failed them all.

"All the same, my sentiments remain true."

"Do you still believe in… it?"

"No. But I won't deny I did once. Or at least, thought I did."

She nodded and gave a small, tight smile. His honesty appreciated, forgiveness granted, limited trust initiated; something of a détente now constructed between them.

"Like I said, actions over words. I won't deny your apology was rather welcome given how we personally knew one another for years, but all the same. I believe you've come a long way if you're here and willing to take up this project with me. And I'll believe it fully if we're able to work together on this without old insults coming out of your mouth and you show me how you've changed."

He set his mouth in a resigned line. "Tell me more about your investigation."

"The role of the advocates is to listen to real complaints and also to connect inmates with social work or counsellors. Help them make a life plan for when they're eventually released. Unfortunately, many of them are either former Death Eaters or sympathisers who won't often talk to these people because of preconceived prejudices or ingrained stigma against asking for this type of assistance. But I think if you attend the interviews with me, they'll at least speak with you. Not all of them have the vaults you do. I think you'll find more Gaunts than Malfoys locked in Azkaban."

"I don't understand the metaphor."

"These people aren't returning to manors or even stable home environments. They'll need jobs. or at the very least, access to mental health and community support resources once free."

"What's this got to do with Potter?"

"Harry has a hunch, and as positively infuriating as this is to admit, his hunches often turn out to be something more. You've just got to get them talking, that's all. Those younger ones will see you as a peer and they're the ones we have reason to believe are experiencing something not quite right. It's rather unheard of for the DoM to be involved with Azkaban."

"Pretty sure many of them see me as a traitor to 'the cause.'"

"Perhaps some do. Though I think you'll find more envy your position."

"So now what? We'll just pop to Azkaban and demand to speak to everyone?"

"No," she said tartly. "First you're going to familiarise yourself with case files. Then you'll read through de-identified psychological evaluations."

She waved a vague hand over to the far corner of the office and a handsome cherry desk piled high with parchments.

"Must I do this here?"

"Yes, those files do not leave this office. So, I suppose this is a logical time to ask if you still wish to be involved. Harry, Angelina, and I want to root out corruption and we think you're our best shot at a foot in the door to investigate. But I've made my case, and I'm done trying to convince you. If you can't or won't commit to this, then you're free to leave and neither I nor Harry will bother you further."

He could leave right now. He could return home to his empty house and pretend he never heard any of this.

And do what with the rest of his days? Part of him argued back. Watch every other person in his life find fulfillment in their respective careers, hobbies, and loved ones?

"If you really need me so desperately, I suppose I could be of assistance," he drawled while making a show of checking his wristwatch.

She surprised him with a snort of laughter. His eyes jerked to her, and she deployed yet another surprise.

"You were a serious student, when you weren't being horrible. You achieved an impressive number of OWLs and NEWTs."

He batted away the reaction he wanted to give that compliment. He thought it might have been the urge to smile.

"And how shall my academic achievements be best put towards the mundane task you've saddled me with?"

"Look for patterns. Anything that strikes you as odd. Not complaints about the food or missing the comforts of home. Any mentions of abuse by guards will be obvious, but some of the more subtle tells of suspicious activity will tell us more. Denials of certain privileges like visitors or letters, but without a disciplinary reason recorded for such a denial. Instances of repeat visits to the infirmary. You'll pass along files that we deem above board to the actual advocates. We need you to focus on the ones that contain any mentions of time unaccounted for, and any whisper of a DoM official."

Though Draco didn't exactly share Granger's naïve optimism that they'd simply find a way to dismantle a system rife with abuse and neglect, he could at least internally admit it was an admirable quality of hers.

"Say we do find something," said Draco. "Say we uncover some horrific web of corruption. What then?"

She looked at him straight-on, and if the chilling stare from Sterling earlier had frozen him, Granger's eyes burned so hot and bright they blasted the lingering ice apart and rendered the sharp shards into harmless droplets.

If he were the target of such righteous passion, he might have cause for fear. But this look she reserved for the intangible evil he'd just agreed to help her fight. An alluring, up-close view of a fervent, relentless Granger.

"We destroy it."

A/N: Massive beta thanks and happy friendaversary to mrsbutlerton. Find me on tumblr: heyjude19-writing. Next chapter will be on June 8.