Standing before the long mirror in her room at Nott Manor, Hermione flattened nonexistent wrinkles in her suit and tucked stray curls behind her ears. She took a steadying breath, determined not to break.
Draco's trial was today.
"Everything will be okay," her mother told her from where she sat on the bed, noting the slight shaking in Hermione's hands as she buttoned and unbuttoned her blue jacket.
She met her mother's gaze in the mirror. "What if it isn't? What if even after all we have, it all goes to hell? What if—what if no one believes me?"
Jean stood, striding over to Hermione and taking her hands in hers. "I believe you. And they will too. It will all be over soon." She wrapped her arms around Hermione, pulling her in. She found comfort there, in the way her mother was somehow always right. She tried to believe her this time. Wanted nothing more than to believe everything would be okay.
Her mother whispered in Hermione's ear, "After the trial is over...Are you sure you—"
"Yes," she clipped, not wanting to talk about the matter long. She didn't have the strength. Couldn't keep thinking about what-ifs and maybes.
Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted any fight her mother had planned.
Theo opened the door. "Are you ready?"
No.
"Yes," she replied, still holding on to her mother's hand.
"Katie is here to escort us," Theo explained as he motioned with his hands for the both of them to follow him to the travel parlor.
So Hermione Granger took the first step towards what could either be her greatest beginning or her worst end, with her chin held high.
***
She was not prepared for the madness she walked into.
Katie was in front of her, yelling at the mob of reporters and busybody onlookers. Theo and Blaise were on either side of her, tucking her tightly between them to shield her from the pointed cameras and hands tugging at her while her parents followed closely behind.
The camera flashes were near blinding, but even the shouts of writers from The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly weren't enough to drown out the poorly whispered conversations Hermione heard.
"I heard it was an affair."
"Poor bloke. First, he loses his wife to a Death Eater, then his own life."
"There's nothing more upsetting than a young widow, don't you agree?"
She tried not to dwell on the rumors. Of course, she had known what the public would think of her hiding away in Nott Manor. She just hadn't expected it to sting so much.
"Ignore them," Blaise muttered when they were finally alone on the lifts. "Fucking vultures with nothing better to do with their time. Soon, everyone will know the truth."
Hermione nodded, white-knuckled fists gripping the briefcase Katie had given her before their departure.
The truth.
She knew the words were meant for comfort, but Hermione's stomach lurched at the thought of the world knowing the truth she had kept hidden for years.
Her eyes fell shut, thoughts drifting to Draco. She could do this. For him—for the man who had given her so much. She would do this for him, and she would not fail.
***
Before today, there hadn't been a courtroom that Hermione couldn't handle. She used to live for the rush of a case, the courtroom being the one place she could do what she loved without fear, where she could unleash everything that held her back and fight for what she believed in.
Before today, the courtroom was her sanctuary. But walking through those double doors and beholding the grand room in front of her, she had thought it felt more like a graveyard.
Witches and wizards from all over Great Britain were filling the seats, the constant chatter of gossiping gits and quills scratching against parchment almost overwhelming her.
She felt a hand fold over hers as Theo stepped beside her. Looking down at her, he gave a steady smile and reassuring squeeze.
He and Blaise led them to their seats across from where the Wizengamot would preside. Hermione scanned the room as they walked, spotting the familiar family of redheads sitting next to a large group of Aurors. Harry sat among them.
Theo had read in The Daily Prophet that although Harry had presented the case to the Wizengamot, he had turned over the responsibility of overseeing this trial to the previous Head Auror, Gawain Robards. He had told the paper he wished to comfort his wife and her family during what would surely be one of the most challenging days of their lives.
Hermione didn't see the point. But she was glad in the end. She didn't think she would have the strength to do what needed to be done if it were Harry who stared at her from behind that podium.
While Robards would oversee, the ultimate decision went to the Wizengamot. It would be them who Hermione would need to convince today.
She sucked in a breath as her eyes shifted to Molly Weasley.
Oh gods.
The Weasley matriarch was a mere ghost of the witch she once was. Her skin was ashen, and deep purple rings circled her eyes—eyes that only stared off into space. The rest of the Weasley family didn't look much better.
She felt a sickness force its way to her throat. Every part of her felt heavy. Unable to meet any of their looks, Hermione took her seat, setting her case in her lap and nervously tapping her fingers across its handle.
There was an opening in the floor where Draco's cage would soon emerge. Hermione didn't let anything else into her mind. Only him. Only her love for him would see her through this. He would be free, and all of this would be over.
Hermione turned to Theo. "Tell me again what—"
Before she could finish, the deep boom of the gavel fell over them. The room fell silent as the court stood for the Wizengamot and the former Head Auror to enter.
She watched as the seats began to fill with red robes, one at a time. Finally, Robards stepped up to the podium surveying the room.
Hermione glanced at Harry, who met her gaze with disappointment lining his face. It made her want to scream and kick and beg him to open his eyes and see.
Soon, he would. They all would.
"Welcome all," Robards announced, "to the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy, who stands accused of murdering Ronald Billius Weasley. Please bring forth the accused."
At his command, the sound of metal rattling made her teeth clench. As Draco was lifted into the room, Hermione felt the magic in her veins roar with rage.
He was chained from head to toe as if the Aurors feared he would somehow escape the barbaric cage that held him. Covered in filth and blood—her blood...Ron's blood—he still wore the clothes he had been arrested in. His blonde hair was matted and wild.
It was wrong. So fucking wrong, and it was all because of her.
Draco's eyes searched the room, careful to stay calm and unbothered until they finally locked with hers.
A tear rolled down her cheek at the relief on his face. He was bound in a cell, facing a lifetime in Azkaban, yet he only cared for her and her safety.
It was incomprehensible, his love for her.
Robards's voice broke through her racing thoughts.
"As always, the accused is allowed to produce a character witness to speak on their behalf." The portly wizard looked over the top of his glasses at Draco. "Mr Malfoy, do you have anyone to defend you in this—"
"Yes," Hermione spoke, cutting the older wizard off as she stood from her seat. Whispers floated in the air from the spectators and a few of the Wizengamot.
"Mrs Granger-Weasley, it is entirely inappropriate for the wife of the deceased to speak out in the courtroom—"
"I do not stand before you as Ronald Weasley's wife," Hermione said, willing her voice not to betray her. "But instead as Mr Malfoy's primary character witness."
The crowd erupted in a fit of gasps and chatter.
"Order!" Robards commanded with the beating of his gavel. He glared at Hermione. "Why on this green earth would you be defending your husband's killer?"
Hermione did not falter as she said, "You will want to hear what I have to say, sir. Unless the Wizengamot plans on sentencing an innocent man to Azkaban."
"Order! Order!" the overseer yelled over the protests from the crowds.
When the court had grown quiet, Robarbs looked at Hermione through narrow eyes. "The floor is yours, Mrs Granger-Weasley."
Hermione swallowed, stepping around Theo as she made her way down the steps.
"Granger, what the hell are you doing?" Draco hissed to only her, hands grasping the bars of his cage. "Don't do this."
She ignored him, turning instead to face those red robes.
"Draco Malfoy did not kill Ronald Weasely," Hermione declared. "I did."
Chaos. The crowd was in utter chaos.
"She's lying!"
"The Golden Girl has gone dark!"
"Murderer!"
She took the slew of hate she was given with as much muster as possible, refusing to stand down. Waited patiently for Robards to settle the crowd once more.
"What possible reason could you have for murdering your own husband?" a short, pointed-faced woman of the Wizengamot asked.
Hermione did not balk. "Over the past three years of my marriage, I have suffered my husband's abuse—both physical and emotional. Ron would hit me, shove me, scream in my face. He would lock me up when I would try to run and threaten to kill my loved ones or anyone who aided me if I left him. On the night of his death, I planned to escape him. He..." Hermione felt the words lodge in her throat. "He refused to let me leave. When I fought back, he tried—he tried to kill me. To save my own life, I had to take his. His death was the result of self-defense."
There. It was out—the truth. She didn't dare look at Harry or the Weasleys. Didn't think she could stomach the look of horror on their faces.
"And where pray tell, does Mr Malfoy come into play in this little story of yours?" Robards queried.
Hermione faced Draco in time to see him shake his head, silently begging her to stop. But it was too late.
"Draco was the one who found me. It is because of him and the help of my friends that I am alive after Ron's final attack. He took the blame for me to protect me against prosecution. giving the Aurors a false confession."
"It's not true," Draco yelled over her. "I killed him. I did it."
Hermione whirled to face him, eyes wide. What the hell was he doing?
The Wizengamot stirred, shifting looks at one another.
"Do you have any proof to your claim, Mrs Granger-Weasley?" another member of the Wizengamot urged.
Hermione scoffed. "Other than my own word? A baseless confession was more than enough to land Mr Malfoy in that cell without as much as a proper investigation. But my claim cannot hold?"
She was boiling. At their blindness, their incompetence, their arrogance. "Don't worry. I did not expect it to be so. Therefore, I've brought this." She held up the briefcase, letting her magic levitate it in the air as she opened it, pulling out the first file. "A detailed description of the scene and Mr Malfoy's false confession, analyzed by Auror Katie Bell." With a wave of her magic, the file multiplied, floating to each member of the Wizengamot before she pulled out the next. "My medical records from St Mungo's—"
"You do realize that these are all things that Mr Potter has already provided—"
"And," she continued, ignoring the interruption and pulling out her last piece of evidence—a small, glass vial. "My memories of each instance of abuse over the past three years, including the night of the incident. Already pre-checked for tampering, again, by Auror Katie Bell."
"No," Draco blurted. "No, Hermione, you don't have to do this."
It was Kingsley Shacklebolt who spoke softly from his seat in the crowd. "You do understand that by submitting that vial today in this courtroom, you agree to your personal memories becoming public record. These memories will be displayed for the Wizengamot to prove your claim."
He did not say it to scare her but instead to warn her. To make sure she was ready. Her grip on the vial tightened. For a moment, the small container felt like a brick in her hands, and she could feel her confidence waiver.
Everyone. Everyone would see.
But her own words quieted that fear. The promise she had made to Ron on that dreadful night.
"I will not go with grace. I will not run. I will not stop until you burn for what you've done to me."
Ron was dead, and she'd be damned if she let the world believe he died as anything other than a monster.
So Hermione stood tall and looked the Minister of Magic in the eye as she answered, "I understand."
And allowed the vial to be taken into evidence.