Hermione woke up and thought that the dream of Draco's arm over her body was notably vivid that morning. Opening her eyes, she saw the grey wall opposite her and immediately jerked awake, wondering what had happened to her pale blue bedroom wall. Sitting up, she looked around and then down, and gasped in pleasure. ''Oh!''
For there, in front of her delighted eyes, draped in the thin, uniform sheets of a prison, was Draco. Almost as if he could feel the heat of her gaze on his face, , his eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, revealing the smoky eyes that looked effortlessly beyond any façade that she might present to the world.
He smiled sleepily and tugged her face down to his, a warm arm secure around her waist. ''You have no idea…''
''How long you've waited for this? Believe me, I do.'' Hermione returned his kiss, and brushed his hair back off his forehead. ''I suppose I'd better go though.''
''You have to?''
''It doesn't look very professional – and I'm sure there's some sort of rule against you having…visitors in your cell.''
Draco reluctantly released her. ''Just the one visitor.''
''All the same.'' Hermione stepped into her jeans and turned to look at him, her face glowing. ''But I'll be back later.''
''I thought there was 'some sort of rule' against that sort of thing,'' he retorted, but he was standing up and hindering the progress of her top over her head. ''Honestly Hermione, it's a lovely top but you look infinitely better without it.''
''Public decency laws don't agree. And as for me coming back later, I thought you might care for the use of my brain – like I promised you.''
''You don't mind doing that for me?'' He asked, moving behind her, pulling her hair to one side and gently kissing her shoulder.
''I have an added incentive now.'' She turned around, burrowing against his bare chest. ''You may be growing attached to these four walls but I'd rather have you in my bedroom.''
''Why, Miss Granger! How you've changed!''
Poking his ribs, she burrowed through her handbag for a comb. ''And what do you mean by that? I'm just not particularly liking the interior decoration choices that have been made in here!''
Draco laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. ''Come back soon.''
''Nothing could keep me away.'' She answered simply and kissed him, letting their lips move together in the way that she never tired of. Breaking apart and gratefully receiving the smile that spread across his face, she felt truly happy, regardless of the grim situation that she was in.
Watching her slip out of his cell, Draco felt a small sense of bereavement. Sitting down and pulling his top over his head, he told himself that everything would be ok, that she would be back soon, that they would work together and get him out and live happily ever after…Shaking his head, he woke himself up. The fairy godmother he was wishing for wasn't there just yet. But Hermione was there, with her soft, trusting brown eyes, with her sweet smile, and with the teasing quirk to her face as she poked good-natured fun at him.
The beautiful vision that was now hovering tantalisingly within his reach disappeared into the ether as the door to his cell opened again and Catton stepped in, a smirk across his face. ''Alone now then Mr. Malfoy?''
Draco stiffened. ''And what do you mean by that?''
Catton laughed mirthlessly. ''You're in a cell under constant surveillance, did you honestly think that Miss Granger's presence in your cell would go unnoticed? How very professional of her to work such late nights, or does she just provide services other than legal defence?''
Draco stood up but was instantly forced backwards by the charm on the cell that protected Catton. Straining against the magic, he snarled at the sneering official. ''If I weren't held back…''
''What a temper you have Mr. Malfoy – one would almost believe that it was the temper of a murderer. A Death Eater's temper in fact.''
Draco stared coldly at the man, knowing perfectly well that his sudden flash of temper at the jibes was going to be used against him. ''Don't you dare insinuate anything about Hermione.''
''A protective Death Eater? How novel.'' Catton's faux-nonchalance couldn't hide his anxiety at the steely glint in his prisoner's countenance. ''But nothing will protect Miss Granger from such insinuations if she persists in such…lewd behaviour with deviants like you.''
''I'll protect her.''
''A lot of use you'll be to her in prison.''
''I won't be staying here.''
Catton just laughed and left the cell, leaving Draco alone to contemplate the apparent futility of his life. All of his earlier glow had dissipated.
When he had woken that morning, his head resting in Hermione's lap, her beautiful face looking down at him, he had momentarily forgotten all the troubles that he had faced over the last two years and all the problems that were coming up. Everything was back to blissful, wonderful normality. And then true normality kicked in and once again he was facing a future where he was left alone to contend with a hostile world. Because there was no way he could expect Hermione to deal with the isolation that would come from any association with him; loving her as he did meant that he would have to protect her and surely the best way to protect her would be to…to push her away? But how could he face not being with her? He loved Hermione too much to be selfless.
Sighing, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had honestly thought that he had seen off the worst years of his life, believing that when he was captured that he would have the chance to defend himself to a new and unbiased ministry. He was wrong: all they wanted was another scapegoat. And Draco wasn't willing to be that scapegoat.
When he had woken up in the Room of Requirements, two years ago, his arms empty and Hermione's ribbon in his hand, he had no idea what to do. He knew that he had lost the most important thing in his life, and he knew that it had been entirely due to his own behaviour. Sitting for hours, a few tears rolling down his face, he wondered what he was meant to do.
He had left the room, deciding that he would talk to Hermione: she didn't know what she was doing, she would allow herself to be talked around to his point of view. But to his surprise, she had refused to even speak to him, just running away with a grieved expression written across her countenance. He couldn't say anything to make her change her mind.
After a while, he stopped being upset and started being bitter. There was no reason for her to be such a flaky bitch , he would mutter darkly to himself. He had given her the best time she would ever have, and she thought she could just throw him away? He would show her. So he slept with every single girl that he could use his brittle charm to get into bed. And yet, it didn't work. He would lie in bed, looking at their redheads, their blonde locks and wonder why they couldn't get rid of the ache inside him. He refused to believe that Hermione could possibly be exerting such a hold on him, when she refused to even speak to him. Just when he thought that he was going mad, they had left school, and his father was taking him to his first Death Eater meeting.
Draco had wondered at the time exactly what kind of literature his father had been reading to make him think that a suitable father-son activity was a visit to a dark and dingy cave where a psychotic murderer lectured them about the inferiority of Muggle-born witches and wizards. Draco knew that what Voldemort was saying was the kind of thing that he had been brought up with, things that should have sounded perfectly logical to his ears. And yet, after lying with Hermione in his arms, after kissing her soft lips, there was something that seemed so inherently wrong about threatening to kill her type. Was there even a specific type? She was a better witch than he was a wizard, and it really didn't seem to matter that much. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to voice his opinion, just sly enough to keep an eye out for any possibly escape route.
Eventually it came, after a particularly ghastly confrontation with his supposed leader, and he had fled into the night, hoping that he would be able to lie low until the war ended. He knew he was a coward but an instinct for self-preservation was significantly stronger than his noble streak. He stole copies of the Daily Prophet, and rejoiced when he finally saw the headlines declaring the end of the war. He sat, stroking the picture of Hermione (ignoring Harry and Ron, who were also beaming out), thanking whatever deity there was for keeping her safe, for leading her to such a glorious victory. He began to allow himself to dream again, to think of a future where he would be able to apologise, and let her apologise as well, and they would be able to be blissfully happy. And then the Ministry blew it by capturing him. The bastards.
It was clear to him, as he lay in his cell, that there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Nothing that he said made any difference, and yet he couldn't make himself give up. Why should he have to resign himself to a life of imprisonment when he had done nothing terrible? Well, he amended, of course he had gotten involved in a couple of incidents of…'intimidation', but he had never killed anyone. Ever. So he carried on his futile battle.
But then Hermione came back: beautiful, infuriating and reassuringly confident in her know-it-all status. And then after last night – where they had apologised to each other, and finally let themselves admit that they hadn't moved on, that they were never likely to move on, when they had had that amazing night together, beautiful in it's familiarity, and yet new and exciting, a wonderful reunion. He sighed and a small, irrepressible smile slid across his lips.
And she had said she would come back, he marvelled. She was still keen to get him out, she didn't just want to gloat over the way he was incarcerated. She actually wanted to get him out of prison and start a new life with him. He couldn't quite believe his luck. And he knew that she felt exactly the same way. But once again, something was coming between them.
Screw Catton, he thought. Maybe Hermione would say something that would actually be listened to. Maybe, everything would be ok for once.
Hermione sat in front of her mirror, and held earrings against her face. Which pair would look best? She was distracted from her sparkly reverie by a knock at her front door. Skipping through the rooms, grinning to herself, impatient to get rid of the visitor and get back to daydreaming about Draco. Flinging open the door, her heart stopped as she saw a shock of flaming red hair. ''Ron! What are you doing here?''
''Well, I'm here to see you,'' he answered, slightly bemused by her question. ''Can I come in?''
''Oh…Ron, I'm getting ready to go out, so…''
''I'll just talk to you while you get ready.'' He was already moving inside her house with an easy familiarity that Hermione suddenly found incredibly irksome. He was already sitting in her bedroom, waiting for her to come through so he could talk to her. Sighing, she followed him through and sat back down at her dressing table.
''So, what's up Ron?''
''Well, I came to see if you'd thought about…what I said to you last time I spoke to you.''
Hermione cursed loudly and vehemently inside her head. Why was he bringing this up? Surely it wasn't gentlemanly? ''Ron, I said at the time, you're my friend. And I only need you to be my friend.''
He didn't move from his position on the end of the bed, and just looked at her coolly. ''I'm not going to give up on you Hermione.''
''Now is the time for you to do so,'' she said absentmindedly. The small stud earrings would be perfect, she thought, slotting them in. Standing up, she brushed down her top. ''Right Ron, I hate to be harsh, but I've got to go.''
''Ok,'' he said with evenly. ''Where are you off to?''
''Work.''
''On a Sunday? Merlin Hermione, how hard are they working you?''
''Oh…I'm just doing something at the moment that I want to get some extra work on.''
''Fair enough. Hey, did you hear that they arrested Draco Malfoy?''
Hermione froze. Shit. He knew. He knew, and he had known all along, and he was playing her and trying to get her to admit her association with Draco, and they had secretly hated her all along, and now it was all going to come out in the open…Breathing deeply, she told herself firmly that that was not the case. ''Yes, I did know.''
''About time hey? Finally, one of the major Death Eaters, caught and ready to be punished!''
''You don't know that he's guilty! Until he's proved so, you shouldn't say things like that!'' She flared up, glaring at him as she spoke.
''What the hell is wrong with you?'' Ron shouted. ''You're constantly touchy at the moment and it's bloody irritating! I'm trying to make conversation!''
''Sorry,'' she said, subsiding. ''sorry.''
He stared at her and made a concerted effort to move on. ''So what's this thing you're working on? I can't imagine any species needs protection so much that you have to work at the weekend.''
''Oh…I'm….I'm…''Hermione's mind had gone blank, and the only thing she could think to say was the truth. ''I'm defending a prisoner who wasn't being given any legal aid.''
''Another one of Hermione's lost causes,'' Ron chuckled. ''Go on, what's he done?''
Maybe it was the fact that he had seemed so comfortable in her own apartment, maybe it was the fact that he had stopped her thinking about Draco for several minutes, maybe it was simply that he thought he knew her so well, but Hermione snapped. ''He's accused of being a Death Eater.''
Ron grabbed her elbow and spun her around. ''Are you kidding?''
''Do I look like I'm joking?''
''No, which is worrying me. Please Hermione, you cannot be defending Draco Malfoy!''
''Yes I can, and I am!''
''How can you do this to me?''
''What are you talking about?'' She was screaming now, her cheeks flushed. ''The world does not revolve around you and your pathetic pride!''
''No, the world revolves around loyalty to friends!''
''How is my defending Draco making me less of a friend?''
''Oh, it's Draco now?''
''Get over yourself Ron, and grow up!''
''For someone who's so clever, you can be a fucking idiot at times.''
''How dare you speak to me like that? Get out! Go on, GET OUT!'' She pointed imperiously at the door, and without another word Ron stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Hermione sat down, tipping her head against the wall. What a prat. How could he make such judgements about her? She knew that what she was doing was right, and she knew that she wanted to be doing it, which was probably the strongest argument ever. She had spent her whole life being self-sacrificing and noble, and as far as she was concerned, it was time to be selfish. And she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Draco was innocent. And an idiot who was fixated on her even if that was sort of her fault, she admitted reluctantly, would not bully her out of that conviction.
Walking down the corridor to Draco's cell a little later, she saw Catton waiting for her. ''Mr. Catton,'' she greeted him coldly.
''Miss Granger, just the young lady I was hoping to see.''
''I'm not sure who else you expected to see outside Mr. Malfoy's cell.''
''Now, that's a very formal way of referring to him given that you spent the night with him, is it not?'' Catton smirked at her, looked her up and down, and Hermione felt shockingly vulnerable.
''What I do in my own time is none of your business Mr. Catton. It doesn't affect the handling of Draco's case at all.''
''How lovely. I'm sure the Wizengamot will see that Draco is being represented by an entirely unbiased counsel, and be entirely convinced by any arguments you could present. I mean, it's not like a defendant's lover would lie about him in order to make him seem innocent, is it?''
Draco, listening anxiously at the door of his cell, felt his heart clench in an icy grip. What would Hermione say to that? She wouldn't give up, he knew that, but what could she possibly do to make that threat stop?
''Interesting point Mr. Catton. But then, I suppose it's not like a Ministry desperately seeking a scapegoat would accuse just anyone of being a Death Eater. It looks like we're both entirely unbiased, doesn't it?'' And, with a final, contemptuous glance at the official, Hermione swept regally past him and into Draco's cell.
Draco looked at her with the most fervent love in his eyes that she had ever seen, and she stepped forward to kiss him. ''Why do you look so happy?''
''Because you're wonderful,'' he said simply. ''You didn't let him get to you at all.''
''Catton? He's a tool.''
Draco looked at her, and thought it was possible that he might just pass out from sheer joy. Instead, he grabbed her and kissed her enthusiastically. ''I thought you couldn't get any better, but you're just unbelievably good.''
''I know darling, but trust me, you're just as good.'' And with that, she pulled out her colour-coded notes and folders and began preparing his defence.
AN: I'm sorry, so sorry. I know it's been forever, but I have many excuses. First, my laptop broke, then the boiler in my house broke and that took ages to sort, then the house fell victim to a slug infestation (gotta love student housing), and then it was my birthday, so I've been rather busy. But here is the next chapter, and I really hope you all enjoyed it! Reviews are, as always, enormously appreciated. Love…petitesorciere xxx