Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 29: XXIX

January 4th, 1999

"Get a load of this rubbish."

She shoots up off her back with a gasp and knees Draco in the thigh, and then he's awake and cursing, and they're both rushing to do up buttons. Both trying to make sense of Theodore Nott taking a seat on the couch between the two of them.

Hermione quickly charms herself - banishes her matted hair and any evidence of their inappropriate behavior. She hadn't meant to fall back asleep, and she's glancing around nervously for any onlookers in the common room.

But it's just Nott, and he seems completely uninterested in their indecent state. He's got the Daily Prophet in hand - throws it down on the table in front of them - and Hermione catches a glimpse of one of the lower headlines.

LETTING BYGONES BE BYGONES?

Witch Weekly's Theories on Hermione Granger's Tryst with Former Death Eater

She sighs, reaching out to turn to the corresponding article, but Nott slaps her hand away.

"Not that one," he snaps, annoyed, then yanks open the Prophet with such force it tears about an inch on both bottom and top. "This shite."

There's a moving photograph of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy exiting the Ministry with their solicitor on the day of their appeal. It then switches to Pansy Parkinson walking through Diagon Alley with a hand in front of her face, warding off the press. Then to Nott with his solicitor, at some point during his appeal, showing him massaging his temples. Then to Blaise Zabini shoving his way through other members of the press while trying to enter King's Cross Station.

The headline reads:

SIX MONTHS & WAR CRIMINALS STILL WALK FREE

"Have you ever even heard of this fucking organization? Or at least that's what they're fucking calling it?" Nott is asking Draco. "Crusaders For Justice?"

Draco shakes his head and rubs his tired eyes, squinting as he leans forward to get a better look at it. "Reckon they want us all in Azkaban."

"No, mate." Nott jabs his finger angrily into the paper. "They want us fucking dead. I read the bloody article. Here. Read this line." He tears it some more ripping it back off the table, handing it to Draco and stabbing at the sentence in question. "Read it. Read that."

Draco yawns and sleepily reads it aloud. "Since October of last year, the organization has been amassing major support and growing in numbers, advocating a zero-tolerance policy for accused Death Eaters and their allies. Dawlish, former Auror, founder of C.F.J. and champion of the cause, calls for a re-evaluation of sentencing, arguing offenders should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"Read his fucking quote." Nott jabs the paper some more.

Draco's lazy intonation fades as he speaks. "What use is a Ministry of Magic that cannot carry out justice where justice is due? These are witches and wizards responsible for the torture and murder of hundreds - whether they decided to get their hands dirty or not - and they are being protected by respectable institutions such as Hogwarts, Durmstrang and St. Mungo's. Protection they do not and will never deserve. C.F.J. will be submitting a motion to reopen all closed cases against these individuals, citing an infringement upon the rights and safety of wizarding society. We intend to place a particular emphasis on what we and countless members of this community consider to be true justice: the Dementor's Kiss."

His voice is unsteady as he reads the last sentence, and Hermione glances up to see he's gone pale. Sees him try to laugh it off.

He tosses the Prophet back to the table. "They're just trying to sell papers. Next week it'll be buried beneath another compilation of Potter's best Quidditch maneuvers." And he massages the nape of his neck, sitting back against the clammy leather. "It's illegal, anyhow."