Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 40: XL

For better or worse, the press has taken their side.

There's only a small footnote regarding Millicent's trial. It'd been quick and rather painless, especially when compared to the others. Millicent had broken down almost immediately and done most of Hermione's work for her - weeping, apologizing, opting for the Veritaserum and then spending the next half hour drenching the courtroom in just how "utterly useless" she always felt. Ridiculed and ostracized until she was accepted by Voldemort and his followers. She just wanted to feel included.

And lucky for Millicent, she'd never used an Unforgiveable. She was fined. Not even a probation.

But Hermione has a sinking feeling it's the best outcome she's going to see from here on out. Nothing's going to get easier.

Today is Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass.

Tracey's cell is somewhere along the middle of the corridor, but she's stopped before she can reach it.

"Granger."

Her shoes scuff on the stone floor. Nott's bruises are slowly healing, but the majority of his face is still a mottled shade of purple. He's standing at the bars like he's been waiting for her, a copy of the Daily Prophet in one hand.

"How did you get that?" she blurts without thinking. Surely, there are more important questions to ask.

"Bribed the guard," he says plainly, but before she can ask what he could've possibly offered, he flattens the paper against the bars so that she can see the headline. "The fuck is this?"

"Today's paper," she deadpans.

Nott's eyes tighten. "Granger." He pulls it back and slams it against the bars again. "What is this?"

She tries not to think about what Pansy would want her to say in this moment. Tries not to consider what she'll do to her if she doesn't. But Pansy is already back at Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, with Blaise and Millicent and Adrian - the best place she could possibly be. Only, now she's got a trace on her.

Still, she's safe.

She can forgive Hermione for this.

"The truth," she answers at last, doing her best to hold his gaze without faltering. She feels she's intruding on something. A very private aspect of two very private lives. Lives she has no business being involved in, even when she's trying to save them.

"This isn't some typical Skeeter shite?" Nott's eyes are more wide and desperate than she realized. "This is what happened?"

"For the most part," she hedges, blinking and dropping her eyes. "Without all the tears and the handkerchiefs."

There's a loud bang.

Her eyes fly back up - Nott has yanked on his bars so hard he's activated their protective Wards. He staggers backward, stung by the resulting jinx, the Daily Prophet floating to the floor at his feet. "Bleeding fucking hell," he hisses, pacing a small line back and forth.

"I'm sorry you found out this way," is all Hermione can manage. She has no idea what's going through his head. "Pansy didn't want anyone to know. But it was all we could do."

His bruise-bracketed gaze finds her again, sharp and yet somehow all at once soft. "She's a fool," he says in a quiet voice.

Hermione can't help but step back. Something stings in her chest. She's not sure what.

"She's a fucking fool," he says again, huffing and shaking his head.

"How can you say that?" she breathes. "After everything she's done for you?"