The Wizengamot was definitely scarier to Hermione, now that she was the one being on trial. Faces hooded with dark blue robes stared at her, some whispering loudly over who she was, and with anticipation of what the verdict was going to be. Harry and Ron had tried to come, according to Mr Weasley, but they would have been unable to watch or help in any way, shape or form, as they had personal connections to her, so there was no point.
Hermione wished they had come anyways, to support her before she went in, but understood there would be repercussions on them if they did so. McGonagall was standing behind Hermione, close enough to be able to feel her presence, but far enough away so that it was clear exactly who was on trial.
"Wizengamot in session!" A man sat apart from the others said loudly, his want pointed into his neck. A blanket of silence fell over the dark court room, the paled faces staring at Hermione, as though they were deciding her fate already.
"Are you, indeed, Hermione Jean Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" The man asked her, his beady eyes looking at her up and down. Hermione grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
"Yes." Her reply was short, but the effect her name, the name of the brains of the Golden Trio, resonated throughout the room like a Mexican wave.
"You are being prosecuted for the use of magic against the following muggles. Wendell Wilkins and Monica Wilkins. Do you confirm or deny these statements?"
Hermione looked up at the room of people, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. The floor seemed to sway under her feet a little. People seemed to sit further up on their seats in anticipation.
"I confirm those statements."
The man looked taken aback. "Well, then, Miss Granger, would you care to explain your reasoning to the court?"
Hermione stood forwards more, and set her shoulders back. If she couldn't muster confidence, she would have to fake it. "Both Wendell and Monica Wilkins were my parents, and I am a muggle-born witch. During the recent wizarding war, as I am close to Harry Potter, and am a muggle-born, I feared for both my life and my parent's lives, as I knew that Voldemort would stop at nothing to get to where he wanted to be. I erased my parent's memories of me, and convinced them with an adapted version of a confundus charm that their names were Wendell and Monica and they wanted to move to Australia, so that way, even if the Dark Lord tried to get to them, he would just be wasting time."
"So you're claiming to have done this for the right reasons, for their protection?" One of the elderly ladies at the back asked her loudly.
"Yes. Feel free to use Legilimency on me to confirm." Hermione tried not to seem scared, but she felt her hands shaking beside her.
"That will not be necessary, Miss Granger. The Wizengamot will discuss your fate."
Hermione took that as her cue to leave, and was closely followed out the door by McGonagall.
"Hermione! Look over here please!"
"Miss Granger! Can you tell us why you were called into the ministry?"
Hermione battled with the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly reporters, who were all shoving their cameras and microphones into her face. As briskly as she could, Hermione walked past them, with McGonagall leading the way. Wordlessly, Hermione spotted McGonagall's wand poking out of the sleeves of her robes, and a spell shot out the end, like a beacon of light. Immediately, the reporters were silenced, and were unable to move.
"Move quickly, Miss Granger," The professor said. "Head up the corridor, and onto your left should be a floo powder station. Use it to travel into my office, and I trust you can make your way from there. We should be given the verdict by tonight."
Hermione looked back at Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows furrowed quizzically. "Where are you going?"
"I'll be right behind you." Hermione knew not to ask any further questions, and instead quickly walked her way to the floo network.
The halls of Hogwarts seemed merciful, compared to the reporters, as not many of the students knew about her arrangements that day. They were all going about their business as though nothing had happened, but Hermione knew better than to trust that the school students wouldn't know by the next day all the details of what had gone down.
No doubt, either, that someone in the ministry had blabbed about why she was there, as well.
Shaking her thoughts of tomorrow away, Hermione made her way to the common room she shared with Draco.
Much more time had passed than she had initially thought, as she spotted Draco lounged out in muggle-wear on their couch with a novel in his slender hands. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, rather it was wet and dangling down in rats tails over his face. Sock-clad feet were sticking up on the other armrest that he wasn't leaning on.
"So how was your trip to the ministry? Come back to get you stuff because you were expelled?" Hermione ignored Draco. Back when she was in primary school, she knew kids like him who picked on her because she was different.
"Hey!" Draco called out to her, slamming his book shut as she walked past him and into her room. "I was talking to you!"
Hermione just closed her door, and wordlessly cast charms on it so it would stay shut. Couldn't he have even just a little bit of mercy to let her be? Hermione thought to herself angrily as she flopped back on her bed, fully dressed. Her hair landed behind her.
"Well, Granger. I guess you didn't want to hop to it," Draco's voice drawled from the door.
"How the hell did you get in?" Hermione sat up, her eyes as deathly as Superman's laser vision.
"You forget that I'm right behind you in school, mudblood. Unlocking a door isn't that hard." He leaned against the doorframe, his tall figure casting a shadow. "And I don't believe you answered my question."
Hermione picked up her wand from her pocket, and pointed it at him, her anger bubbling over the edge. She wasn't in the mood for Draco today. He was insufferable.
His smirk only grew wider. "Hex me, by all means, but remember, mudblood, that the only one you're really hurting with that is yourself."
Hermione's wand didn't waver. "Get out."
"But what if I don't want to?" He sauntered into the room, the arrogance oozing off him as though he were a multi-tiered cake with too much icing in the middle. "I don't have to do what you say. I'm head boy."
"Well, unless it's escaped your notice, I'm head girl, and what I say also goes. So get out. Now." Hermione shouted. "I don't have time for this."
A flash of light left her wand, and landed straight into Draco's chest. The spell knocked him off his feet and backwards a few metres, his back slamming into his own room's door. And with another flick of her wrist, Hermione slammed her bedroom door closed, this time making sure he wouldn't be able to get in.
The day had taken its toll on her, dark eye bags already settling in, and her eyes staying pried open due to the number of things she was stressing herself sick over. Hermione allowed herself to sit at the side of her bed, her wand still clutched into her hand.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" Draco banged on the door. "I'm going to get you back for this, mudblood! Just you wait!"
Hermione didn't reply, only letting herself let go of her wand and run her hands through her tangled, curly locks. A deep breath was exhaled, her pent-up anger and worry leaving her momentarily.
An elephant was sitting on her chest, and a large hammer was hammering into her temple. But Hermione persisted on, and changed into her pyjamas and forced herself asleep while she still had the chance.
Draco had been too cruel with Hermione. He was blind to most people's emotions, but even he could see how tired she was. Her under-eye circles had largened and darkened significantly, and she was walking as though she were half-asleep. He knew it by the way her voice cracked when she was yelling at him.
She was good at spells, though. Draco would let her have that. She could win a duel in her sleep, which she proved to Millicent Bulstrode in their second year when Millicent got salty over Hermione winning, and turned it into a physical fight.
His chest ached from the force that had come out of the tip of her wand, though Draco knew she could do it almost as easily without her wand. Rubbing the sore area, Draco clambered to his feet.
Anger swelled through his vision. Who did she think she was, treating him like that? Draco let her know exactly how he felt towards her when he banged on the door and yelled, before making his way back to his own room.
"Dammit, Granger," Draco cursed at her, as he inspected the area. A bruise was beginning to form. He rolled his eyes like it was his life's work, and lay back on his bed.
Draco didn't understand muggle-borns. He didn't know where they got their magic from. He knew that Hermione couldn't steal it, as it wasn't an object and the magic was inside the witch or wizard. A wand to a muggle would be like a stick of wood. It wouldn't preform magic for them, no matter what hex they decided to use. Draco wasn't stupid, and knew that his father was wrong about them.
Draco hadn't figured out exactly what he was meant to think about her, and about her bloodlines. All he was raised to do was care about a person's heritage, and what percentage wizard was he or she. She… confused him. With her capability, but her parent's wizarding incapability, it just didn't make sense. It was like trying to give Draco two plus two to make five. It just wasn't happening.
He turned onto his side, not feeling like going back out to face the music. Instead, like the girl in the room across from his, he let himself fall asleep.