Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Beta love going out, as always, to littlered1992!
Ron and Vivienne Weasley lived in a modest apartment in an all-magical neighbourhood. Luckily, for them, because the ruckus currently coming from their place of residence was nothing a Muggle would have been able to pass off as normal.
"What the fuck do you mean they blackmailed you?" Ron yelled as he dodged another stunning spell.
Vivienne was wild, her hair in complete disarray as she ducked back down behind the kitchen counter. She had always known Ron had a temper, but she had never seen him this angry before.
"They tricked me," she squealed as his footsteps thundered closer. "Zabini lured me into that hotel room and Granger came to see me the next day with proof – "
"Proof?" Ron hissed as he rounded the kitchen island. He crouched to the floor and Vivienne shuffled backwards in an effort to get away from him. "There's proof?"
She raised her wand again, but Ron was too quick for her. He lunged, wrapping his large hand around her bony wrist, tugging it up and over her head so she was unable to defend herself; she whimpered pathetically as his cold blue eyes glared down at her.
"Zabini –," she choked, "- he…he filmed it."
Ron growled, but he loosened his grip on her wrist, allowing her to lower it back into her lap. He slumped away from her, his head falling with a thud against the kitchen cabinets.
"Where is the film now?" He asked in a whisper.
"Granger has it."
"Right."
There was a pause filled with an uncomfortable silence. Vivienne squirmed, though her husband was not looking at her.
"I'm sorry," she finally squeaked out. "I don't know what I was – "
"Save it," he spat, snapping his head around to glare at her. "You knew what you were doing; just like I knew what I was doing when I fucked you the day I was supposed to marry Hermione. I only hope you live to regret it as much as I do now."
With that he rose from the floor, dusted off his pants and turned on his heel. On his way out of the kitchen, he called; "Oh, and I want a divorce!" before slamming the front door shut, leaving Vivienne wide-eyed and slack-jawed on the linoleum.
She sat there for what felt like hours, tears silently pouring down her cheeks. It wasn't fair! This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Vivienne Weasley – nee Greengrass – always got what she wanted. Since when had Hermione Granger been fit to change that?
With a renewed sense of purpose, Vivienne swiped the back of her wrist over her face, clearing it of the evidence of her emotional outburst. Clambering to her feet, she stumbled towards the empty fire place. Using her wand, she lit the kindling before throwing a handful of green powder into the flames.
She collapsed to her knees and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, being careful not to inhale this close to the grate. Vivienne leant forward slightly until her face was completely covered in emerald green light.
"Daddy?" She sniffed as the connection was made. "I need your help."
On the day of Narcissa's trial, Hermione was awake before dawn. She sat in her kitchen, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, pouring over all the notes she had made since Draco was released in March. Her fingers tightened around the mug as she read over the part in the trial outline which stated that Narcissa would not be present at the trial; they had said that she was too ill to make the journey, especially if she was only going to be made to turn around and head back to Azkaban after the fact.
She did not want to admit it, but there was a very real possibility that Hermione could lose the trial today. With a sigh, she stood and moved to wash her cup, tipping the rest of the greyish liquid down the sink before soaking it in warm water.
Ginny had visited her on Friday and said that she had tried to get Harry to see reason, but they had ended up in a fight. Hermione couldn't help feeling frustrated as Ginny sniffled in her office. It had seemed out of character for Ginny to be so upset over a spat with Harry – they'd had plenty before now.
Her lack of sympathy hadn't gone unnoticed by the red-head and Ginny had left in a bit of a huff. Hermione couldn't bring herself to care, however, not with so much more at stake.
At eight o'clock Hermione landed in the Atrium and walked quickly towards the lifts, her briefcase clutched tightly in her hand. She spotted Blaise before she reached the elevator; he offered her a tight smile and a nod in greeting, before falling into silent steps beside her.
Outside of the courtroom door, Draco was standing against the wall, his posture stiff. It took all of Hermione's self-control not to run to him; seeing him, even as he refused to meet her gaze, made her realise how much she had missed him over the past week and a half.
Locking her arms by her side, Hermione forced herself to smile as she and Blaise approached him, but he did not return the sentiment.
"Granger," he nodded. "Blaise."
While his tone was soft, the use of her last name stung a little. They had been in regular contact via owl, and he had always addressed his missives to Hermione. She swallowed against the hurt; there would be time to discuss their relationship later.
"Mister Malfoy," she replied. "How are you feeling?"
"Where's my mother?" His cold eyes bored into hers, but Hermione had the distinct impression that he wasn't seeing her.
"She's still in Azkaban, mate," Blaise answered, noting the stricken look on Hermione's face.
"Why?"
"They aren't going to bring her all the way here on the first day of the trial," Hermione answered in a wobbly voice. She cleared her throat. "It could take a few sittings until we get a verdict, especially without that memory…"
Draco's hands clenched at his side and Blaise eased an arm around the blond. Hermione looked between them, an icy hand grasping her heart and squeezing, until she felt as though it might pop out of her throat.
"Come on, Draco," said Blaise. "Let's go and take our seat." He lifted his chin towards the door.
"Fine," Draco grunted, still staring at Hermione.
"I'll see you afterwards," she promised with a meek wave.
Blaise inclined his head as he steered Draco into the courtroom, his gaze lingering on hers long enough to offer a half-hearted apology.
Hermione let out a shaky breath as she followed ten paces behind them. She had expected Draco to be distant, aloof even, but she hadn't expected him to be so cold towards her.
He's just stressed, she reasoned with herself. Once this is all over…
But she couldn't finish the thought. Who knew when the trial would be finished? And if Narcissa wasn't granted release…Hermione cut that thought off with a hard swallow and found her seat in the middle of the circular room.
Members of the Wizengamot were also filing in and taking their seats slightly above where she stood on a small, round platform. She knew Draco and Blaise, and a number of other curious magical citizens were sitting in the stands behind her; Draco's gaze was almost tangible on the back of her neck and she raised a hand subconsciously to rub the tingling sensation away.
Her hand fell back to her side as the doors to the chamber opened and in walked a portly man wearing robes of a deep chocolate brown. His blond hair was thinning, but he had parted it severely to the side, combing the sparse strands over the bald patch. He walked with a sense of over-inflated importance, shooting Hermione a triumphant grin as he took the steps up to the stands.
"Good morning," he boomed as he came to a halt in the middle of the Wizengamot. "My name is Gabriel Greengrass, and I will be overseeing this trial in place of Minister Jenkins, who is out of the country."
Hermione's stomach settled somewhere around her knees and she exhaled forcefully through her mouth. She had never met the man, but knew him by name; Vivienne's father had immense pull over the Ministry and practically lived in the pockets of Evan Jenkins, the Minister for Magic.
Jenkins was the descendent of former-Minister Eugenia Jenkins, and was even more useless when faced with an actual challenge. He was nothing more than a pencil-pusher, pocket-liner, puppet of a Minister, Hermione doubted very much that he had simply forgotten the date of the Malfoy retrial and scheduled a meeting out of the country; the whole situation reeked of Vivienne's manipulation.
Scrunching her hands into fists, Hermione schooled her features into an expression of polite nonchalance as Mister Greengrass continued to address the assembly.
"We are here to conduct a second trial for Mister Lucius Malfoy and Mrs Narcissa Malfoy, on account of new evidence being brought to light since the release of their son, Draco Malfoy." He shuffled some parchment and then gazed down at Hermione. "Please state your name."
"Hermione Granger," she said clearly.
"Miss Granger, you have brought the case to the attention of the Wizengamot for the fifth time now, is that correct?"
"Yes, Sir."
Greengrass passed a piece of parchment to the purple-haired witch next to him, who began to scribble upon it using a short white quill, but his attention never wavered from Hermione's face. A smirk slowly slid across his features as he crossed his arms.
"Please deliver your opening statement."
Hermione took a deep breath. No longer nervous, she moved to stand at the corner of her podium, addressing a greying witch with a kind face.
"Narcissa Malfoy is a victim of circumstance," she said. "She was never a Death Eater, she never committed murder or any other heinous crime during the time of Voldemort's rein," she paused to allow some gasps to subside at her audacity to mention his name, "and she does not deserve life imprisonment. You saw fit six months ago to grant Draco Malfoy a conditional release, based on a house arrest agreement. I am here today seeking the same outcome for his mother, and his father."
At this point, Hermione moved to stand at the other corner, now facing the Wizengamot members seated in the right-hand stands.
"Lucius Malfoy acted out of sheer terror; his family was threatened at a time in which he felt vulnerable and stuck. Though he may once have desired the inclusion to Tom Riddle's group, I believe that he felt no such draw during the Second Wizarding War. While I understand that there must be consequences for those who choose to behave in ways that are unacceptable in our society, I believe Lucius has already paid his dues in Azkaban, and that Narcissa shouldn't have to suffer at home without her husband."
Hermione returned to the centre and addressed Mister Greengrass again.
"Thank you," she said, before clasping her hands in front of her and waiting further instruction.
"Miss Granger," Greengrass began in an oily voice. "Is it true that you are in a romantic relationship with Draco Malfoy?"
Hermione's inhale caught in her throat as every member of the Wizengamot leant forward, keen to hear her answer. She noticed a few familiar faces; the old witch who had tutted at her as she passed her in the corridor three days ago, and a wizard with long yellow hair who had positively sneered at her while she ordered a latte from the café down the street last Wednesday.
As she opened her mouth to respond, she was cut off by a cold voice over her shoulder.
"I hardly see how that is anyone's business but mine, and Miss Granger's."
Hermione whipped around. Draco was standing in the middle of the spectator stands, his arms folded across his chest. He arched a threatening eyebrow at Vivienne's father, completely ignorant to Hermione's loaded glare. Blaise caught the blazing look in her eyes, however, and tugged on Draco's elbow to force him to sit down again; he remained unmoved.
"Mister Malfoy," Mister Greengrass grinned. "Would you care to weigh in?"
"Yes, I would bloody like to weigh in," Draco spat. "How dare you question Miss Granger's integrity; she's the only witch in this Merlin forsaken hell-hole that does her job properly!"
"Are you suggesting that the Wizengamot is unable to handle its affairs in a way that matches Miss Granger's…abilities?" He leered over the last word and Hermione choked on the bile that burned up her sternum.
"I'm not suggesting it. I'm stating it."
There was a collective gasp from the Wizengamot, and a silent groan from Hermione, who slumped against the lectern and willed Draco to stop.
"Guards," Greengrass looked to his left. Two burly wizards in white robes stepped forward, grinning menacingly at Draco.
All colour drained from his face as he uncrossed his arms and fixed his gaze on the men. They continued through the stands until they reached him, wrapping one of his arms in both of theirs, and then escorting him from the courtroom.
"No!" He was saying, though he did not fight them; for this, Hermione was grateful. "Please, I need to know if – " His voice was cut off as soon as the doors slammed shut.
Hermione straightened; she knew she would have to fight twice as hard now. Blaise offered her a stiff nod and she steeled her resolve.
Greengrass shook his head as he watched the closed doors, as if expecting further outbursts from the young Mister Malfoy. After a few moments he seemed satisfied that they would not be interrupted again and turned his attention back to Hermione.
"You said you have new evidence to present to us today. What would you like to put forward?"
"I have a diary." Hermione stepped forward and offered the leather-bound journal to the purple-haired witch. "You'll see that the entries in the diary link to the code I discovered amongst Mister Malfoy Senior's belongings in the underground archives."
"I see," Greengrass peered down his nose at Hermione, a faint and sinister smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Hermione swallowed thickly and forced herself to remain looking forward; the desire to avert her eyes to the door Draco had disappeared through earlier was overwhelming.
"Anything else of value?"
"N-no, Sir," Hermione stammered. She licked her lips and clasped her hands in front of her; she wanted to mention the memory, aware of Blaise's gaze boring in to the back of her head, but she was certain that should she open her mouth to articulate this, Greengrass would do everything in his power to prevent the memory from ever entering a Wizengamot chamber.
"I don't have – " she was cut off as the door to the chamber flew open, bouncing off the wall with a deafening bang. Hermione whipped around, eyes wide, expecting to see a platinum blond blur come streaking through, but it wasn't Draco.
"Harry?" She whispered.
The panting wizard skidded to a stop beside her and she looked at him in awe; he did not meet her gaze. Instead, he raised his right hand which was curled into a fist and directed his attention towards Mister Greengrass, who /was looking down at the source of the wild intrusion with resigned respect.
"Harry Potter," he stated for the court. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
There were a few soft chuckles and Hermione scowled up into the stands; had they no decorum?
"Mister Greengrass," Harry nodded, still holding his arm over his head. "I have evidence to support the case of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy."
Hermione gasped in unison with the rest of the crowd in the court room. Her eyes prickled with tears of relief and she blinked them back.
Greengrass recovered before anyone else, barking orders to summon a pensieve, and before Hermione had properly wrapped her head around what was happening, she was standing in a small circle around the solid grey object.
The purple-haired witch, who Hermione took to be the Wizengamot record keeper, had appeared at her left, while Harry was stationed on her right. Both of them were looking down in to the swirling mist as another Wizengamot member uncorked the vial and lifted it over the pensieve. The memory spilled effortlessly into the bowl, mixing with the contents until a small rectangular window began to grow from the centre. From where Hermione was standing, it appeared that they were standing above a small, well lit room, but she could not make out anything further.
"On three," Greengrass called from his position in the stands. "One, two, three." He counted them in and they dipped their faces towards the pensieve at the same time. For a moment Hermione was falling, sailing past barely-there grey clouds, and then her feet found solid ground.
They had landed in a familiar, circular room; Dumbledore's study. The wizened headmaster sat behind his large wooden desk in robes of deep plum, his hands steepled in front of him as he gazed at his visitor over the tops of his fingertips.
Narcissa's gaze was fixated on his left hand; blackened and withering. Hermione instantly placed the memory in the Summer of 1996 – just before Draco was set to return to Hogwarts for his sixth year.
Behind Dumbledore stood a tall, thin figure, half hidden in the shadows. Snape watched the exchange before him with unbridled disdain, his arms folded tightly across his chest.
"Please," Narcissa was saying. "Please, help Draco."
"Mrs Malfoy," Dumbledore smiled kindly, "I can assure you that no harm will come to Draco while he is at Hogwarts."
Rather than assuring the blonde witch, Dumbledore's words only seemed to agitate her more. She shuffled restlessly in her seat, her fingers knotted together in her lap.
"What about holidays?" She whispered. "My husband –," she cleared her throat delicately, "- he says that he might be spending quite a bit of time at the Manor and I worry that Draco will become a target during his ire…" she trailed of, somewhat lamely, and Hermione resisted the urge to reach forward to comfort the distressed older witch.
"Of course, Mister Malfoy is more than welcome to stay here over the holidays," Dumbledore conceded. "In fact, I suggest you tell Voldemort – " Narcissa recoiled so violently she almost tumbled from her chair. Hermione watched Snape, whose jaw had locked, but he did not say anything. "- that he is staying back to work on his task." Dumbledore finished as if he had not just witnessed the near-fainting of the Malfoy matriarch.
"You know about that?" She gasped.
"Of course he does," Snape snapped. "I told him."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the Potions master, but addressed Dumbledore when she spoke. "He's just a boy," she whispered.
"Indeed." Dumbledore lowered his hands to the table and offered Narcissa a warm but meaningful smile. "As are some of his peers; they are all fighting a man's war, Mrs Malfoy. Our job is, of course, to protect them." He shot a meaningful look over his shoulder and Snape reluctantly stepped forward.
"I have a plan," the greasy Potion's master said. "Visit me with your sister, and ask me to help Draco. If I have read Bellatrix correctly, she will force us into making an Unbreakable Vow; Draco will not be the one to carry out the Dark Lord's wishes." For the briefest of seconds, his aloof expression changed to one of uncertainty, but his mask was back in place before Hermione could be sure of what she was seeing. "I will be," he finished quietly.
Narcissa's back stiffened impossibly at this statement. "You? But I don't – "
"Severus' plan is foolproof," Dumbledore interjected. "And the less you know of his position, the better." His gaze was stern, as was his tone. "Will you do as he has suggested, and bring your sister to Spinner's End before the start of the term?"
"Yes." Narcissa visibly crumpled, falling forward slightly until her forearms braced her against the desk. Her shoulders began to shake erratically, but she made no noise as she sobbed.
For a moment, no one moved, and Hermione wondered if the memory was over. Then, Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair, and Narcissa's head rose to meet his gaze.
"Mrs Malfoy," the Headmaster said, "I hope you'll understand that I need to ensure that you do not feed this information back to Tom Riddle." He looked sternly over his half-moon glasses at the blonde witch, who nodded quickly and stood.
"Of course," she swallowed thickly. "Anything."
"Will you wear this?" He handed her a seemingly non-remarkable silver chain with a small, round pendant on it.
Narcissa's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair, but she reached slowly for the necklace, clasping the cool piece of jewellery between her long, thin fingers.
"Of course," she breathed. "What is it?"
"It is a rather ingenious invention, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Narcissa worked to clasp the pendant around her neck. "The silver is imbued with an anti-dote for Veritaserum, as well as protective charms against attempts of legilimency. You will not be able to speak of this meeting to anyone; if you try, the necklace is jinxed to strangle the wearer before you will be able to finish the sentence."
Narcissa blanched, but Dumbledore looked as calm as if he had simply been commenting on the unseasonably cold weather Scotland had been experiencing.
"What about Lucius?" Narcissa whispered, her fingers toying with the chain.
"I'll tell him," Snape stepped forward, his sallow features thrown into sharp relief. "If and when it becomes necessary."
Narcissa pursed her lips, looking as though she was poised to argue, but after a few silent seconds she nodded.
"I agree," she said. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
"Not at all, my dear," Dumbledore clasped one of Narcissa's hands in both of his. "Anything you need."
With one last curt nod, Narcissa turned and swept from the room. The slam of the door closing echoed around them as the scene dissolved, and Hermione, Harry, and the purple-haired witch were hurtling back towards the present day.
The purple-haired witch stepped forward as soon as they landed back in the chamber and recounted the events in a clear, slightly high-pitched voice. Hermione's hands twisted together as she spoke, willing her to hurry up. This was it, she could feel it. The Malfoys had the word of Dumbledore, and Snape; there was no way the Wizengamot could rule that Narcissa deserved Azkaban…
"I wish to speak on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy." Harry's voice startled Hermione out of her premature celebrations. The purple-haired witch had stopped talking and had once again taken her seat next to Greengrass.
Hermione turned slowly to face Harry; his lips were pressed together in a determined line. She met his gaze, but though the emerald eyes were burning with something, she was unsure if it signalled his desire to help or hinder the case.
"I call Harry Potter as a witness," Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly.
Harry moved to stand beside Hermione. She turned to him, trying to convey wordlessly that if he screwed this up for her, she would ensure he never became a father by removing a very important appendage; his expression remained blank.
In any other case, Hermione would have called for a break, but she knew that the Wizengamot would construe that as consorting with a witness, and she could not jeopardise this case any further than she had already.
Steeling her resolve, she asked Harry to give his statement, internally praying that it was going to benefit Narcissa.
"Narcissa Malfoy saved my life," Harry replied instantly.
Hermione was slightly taken aback, but motioned for him to continue. Pockets of whispering had broken out at Harry's abrupt introduction, but as he continued, the room fell to silence once more.
"During the Final Battle, Voldemort and I duelled, as many of you already know. It was during this battle that he eradicated the piece of his soul that had resided in me for the last sixteen years; he removed the horcrux with a killing curse, but he did not kill me. Of course, I knew that if he became aware of what had transpired in the clearing before I had a chance to return to Hogwarts, I would die for sure.
"Narcissa Malfoy was sent to check if I was really dead. She leant over me, put her hand over my heart – " Harry mimicked her action, placing his own palm flat across his chest, " – and bent to hear my breathing. She knew I was alive the second she came into contact with me, but she did not stand immediately. She whispered in my ear, asking if Draco was inside the castle; I told her he was. She then stood and declared to Lord Voldemort that I was dead.
"If she had told the truth, I would not be standing here giving this testimony today. I owe her my life; she is the reason I was able to defeat Tom Riddle as an equal, in the end."
Harry shrugged as he came to the end of his story. It seemed as if everyone in the chamber had been holding their breath for the duration of his speech; you could have heard a pin drop.
Hermione shattered the silence by clearing her throat. "And Lucius? Do you have anything you wish to say of him?"
"Actually, yes," Harry said slowly. He frowned slightly, staring Hermione directly in the eye. "After I returned to Hogwarts and we resumed battle, I saw the Malfoys – Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco – leave together. They did not fight in the end, and I believe that Lucius and Narcissa were both wandless for the duration of the night."
"Really?" Greengrass condescending tone sliced through the tense air like a hot knife through butter. "And what makes you think that was the case?"
"Lucius carried his wand in his cane; his cane was nowhere to be seen at any point. And Narcissa had given hers to Draco; I saw him with it during the battle."
"Speculation," Greengrass sneered. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Harry's sudden grip on her wrist stopped her just in time. "We will reconvene next week," he began to shuffle papers in front of him, passing some to the purple-haired witch. "That's all for – "
"Wait!" Hermione snatched her wrist away and stormed up to stand in front of him, glaring at Greengrass. "I wish to present my closing statement."
There was a collective gasp around the courtroom; a closing statement meant the case would be finalised at the end of its presentation. Hermione knew she was taking a risk, but it wasn't as risky as leaving the Wizengamot to cool off in a week's time, and potentially drag the case out beyond Narcissa's capacity and will to live.
"Fine," Greengrass spat through gritted teeth. Hermione was pleased to see that she had rattled him. "Make it brief."
"I wish to point out that Narcissa wore that necklace Dumbledore gave her to ensure she never told anyone about the plan; she became an ally to the Order of the Phoenix as soon as she entered the Headmaster's study that day." She licked her lips and moved her gaze across the crowd. "Narcissa is also very sick; an innocent woman, such as Mrs Malfoy, should not be forced to live out her last days rotting in a prison cell." Hermione had to stop there, blinking back the tears that threatened.
"And as for Lucius," she continued when the tightness in her throat had eased, "Snape must have told him about the plan, or else the diary and letter I gave to you before would never have existed. Snape clearly trusted Lucius, and Dumbledore trusted Snape; therefore, it stands to reason that Lucius was also trustworthy." She cleared her throat; the last sentence sat uncomfortably in her mouth.
"It was also Lucius who told me where to find the evidence. I believe that this information proves that the Malfoys had defected before the end of the war; they were on our side, and therefore should not spend any further time in Azkaban. Thank you."
There was instant murmuring as Hermione finished, stepping backwards until she hit the lectern.
"Silence!" Greengrass hissed. It immediately fell, and he glared down at Hermione, his face turning a disturbing shade of purple. "I suspend this case on the grounds of Miss Granger's obvious conflict of interest!" He declared suddenly, triumphantly.
Hermione gasped, but before the feelings of despair and frustration could truly take hold, sounds of dissent came from the Wizengamot. Greengrass looked behind him, glaring at the members of the court; they paid him no mind.
"She gave the closing statement," a middle-aged gentleman sitting behind Greengrass called. "It's time to vote!"
Noises of agreement whispered through the crowd, and Greengrass pursed his lips as he gazed at Hermione, pure and utter loathing burning in his eyes.
"Fine!" He bellowed, throwing his arms wide. "All those in favour of pardoning Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy for their parts in the war against He Who Must Not Be Named?"
Hermione would have rolled her eyes at the fact that Gabriel Greengrass could not bring himself to say Voldemort, but her heart was in her throat as she watched the Wizengamot deliberate.
One by one, the members of the Wizengamot raised their hands. At final count, they had an almost unanimous vote. Her gaze flicked along the sea of faces to settle back on Greengrass; he looked livid.
"Fine," he repeated, gathering the parchment in front of him and throwing them at his assistant who, to her credit, caught them. Without a backwards glance, he hurried from the raised stands, only pausing once he got to the door to shoot Hermione a menacing look before disappearing from the chamber.
Though she knew that Gabriel Greengrass was not the sort of person she wanted as her enemy, Hermione could not bring herself to dwell on his threatening glare. A sense of overwhelming relief settled about her like a cloak; she had done it.
She whirled around with the intent of locating Blaise, but she was stopped mid-turn by Harry.
"Well done, Hermione," he said solemnly. "I'm sorry that I – "
"Later," she said, holding her hand up to stop him mid-sentence. "I need to find Draco."
Blaise suddenly appeared at her side, as if he had apparated down from the stands. Without a word, they nodded to each other before hurrying across the highly polished wooden floor and through the doorway.
Draco was unmistakeable, crouching at the end of the corridor, his platinum blond head in his hands. He did not look up as they approached, nor did he face them when the toes of their shoes came in to his field of vision.
"She did it," Blaise finally said after a few seconds of painful silence. "Granger freed your mother."
It was like watching ice melt but in fast forward; Draco stood abruptly and wrapped Hermione in his arms, crushing her to his chest.
"Thank you," he choked in to her hair as he held her to him.
Her arms lifted to rest on the middle of his back, tracing soothing circles against his spine as he clung to her. Her throat constricted as they stood in the corridor, the realisation of what she had accomplished finally hitting her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione gripped the back of Draco's jacket and buried her face further into his chest.
For a few seconds he was oblivious, but then her shoulders began to shake and he pulled back, forcing her to look at him by tilting her chin up. With the pads of his thumbs, he removed the tears from her cheeks before bending to bestow a fierce kiss on her lips.
There was no tongue and it was over in a matter of seconds, but the feeling in it threatened to send Hermione into even further hysterics. She stumbled slightly as he pulled away, but another hand between her shoulder blades finally grounded her.
"Come on," Blaise said as he lowered his hand from Hermione's back. "We'd better go and find out what time we can expect Narcissa home."
Hermione pulled away, but Draco kept one arm firmly around her waist as they moved to follow Blaise back down the corridor. Harry trailed behind, hovering until he stopped in his tracks and simply called; "I'll Floo you later, Hermione!"
The brunette witch waved over her shoulder but did not turn around. She was more than grateful that Harry had come through at the last minute, but that didn't automatically erase months of being let down by her supposed best friend.
Yes, she would Floo him later – but after she knew that Narcissa was back under the Manor's roof, and she had properly spoken to Draco.
A massive shout out to my friend mhcalamas for making me an aesthetic to go with this fic! She's also a super talented writer who has been generous enough to allow me to pre-read some of her work! :D xx