"Cormac McLaggen!" Hermione spat venomously the minute Draco sat down the next afternoon.
"What did you call me? Is that some Muggle swear I've never heard before?" Draco's tone was light, but he was a bit wary. The last time he'd seen Granger this angry had been in their third year when she'd slapped him. He moved away from her slightly.
"No, Cor-mac Mc-Lagg-en." She pronounced each syllable distastefully. "He's the prosecuting Inquisitor for your case and he's awful. Completely underhanded and dirty. Always taking bribes but never gets caught. He was a year ahead of us at Hogwarts . . . Gryffindor. He's the worst!"
Draco smirked. "And here I thought I was the worst."
"No, you're an annoying little ferret. McLaggen is a slimy octopus with the tentacles to match."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" He thought for a moment. "He does sound familiar . . . Wait, didn't you date him?"
"No!" Hermione looked up from her papers to glare at him. "We went to one party together, and I spent most of the time hiding from him." She shuddered. "He was not exactly a gentleman."
"Seems to be a pattern of yours . . ." Weasley, that Holyhead Harpies clown, and now this guy? Draco couldn't help but wonder why she never seemed to date anyone who actually deserved her. But then again, maybe that guy didn't exist.
Hermione frowned. "Look, he's a dirtbag, but he's extremely clever and unscrupulous. All those enemies of your father's? If they're paying him off, McLaggen will resort to anything to get you convicted. He's ruthless in court."
Draco groaned. "Just my luck. So, what does that mean, exactly?"
"It means we're going to need to be incredibly thorough and even more careful."
***
"Two charges of the Imperius curse . . . let's talk about that," Hermione said a half hour later, reviewing the sheet of Draco's charges.
Draco's light demeanor quickly changed once they started talking about his case, and Hermione noticed him stiffen at the question.
"I used it on Madame Rosmerta in sixth year to try to get the cursed necklace to Dumbledore. She, in turn, used it on Katie Bell, hence the two charges. And I think you already know how that scenario played out."
Hermione nodded. "So, it goes back to Dumbledore's death—conspiracy to murder. What made you want to kill Dumbledore?"
"I was upset he wasn't going to make me Head Boy," he said sarcastically then, let out a frustrated breath. "I didn't want to kill him! I was ordered to by Voldemort. Didn't you already know that?"
"Most of it, yes, but I need to hear it from you. I'm trying to build a case here, remember?" Draco muttered something unintelligible as Hermione continued. "When did Voldemort order you to kill him?"
"Before the start of sixth year." He grimaced. "It was my first official task as a Death Eater."
"And when did you take the Dark Mark?" She nodded towards the metal band that was secured around his left forearm, a security measure so Death Eaters couldn't contact each other in Azkaban.
"A few days earlier."
"And how did you feel about that? Did you want to become a Death Eater?"
Draco's gaze shifted downward, and the silence was deafening. Finally, he sighed, then said, "Before I became one, yes, I did—I'd basically been preparing for it my whole life. My father was one, and he made it sound important and exciting. Said they were purifying the world of filth, and all that garbage." He frowned. "When my father was put in Azkaban at the end of fifth year, it just fueled my fire—I blamed Potter and all of you for him being there, and I wanted to prove to my father I could take his place."
His words reminder Hermione just how much he'd once hated her and her friends—and maybe still did. "Did you ever have any doubts?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Sometimes . . . but I tried to push them away. Besides, when the time came, I didn't really have a choice. My father was in Azkaban, Death Eaters were living in our house, and Voldemort demanded that I make up for my father's mistakes." He rubbed his brow. "We were in much too deep at that point. It seemed like the only way to keep my family safe—and myself."
"So, what do you think of Voldemort's teachings now?"
"Does it matter?" He sighed.
"Yes, it does. The Wizengamot is going to be looking to see if you're still loyal to his cause, if you'll be likely to join up with Death Eaters again."
"No, I'm not still loyal to his cause, and I wish I'd never taken this mark." He held up his wrist, muttering darkly, "And couldn't care less about blood purity . . . a lot of good that did me."
"Would you be willing to confirm that statement in court under Veritaserum?"
"Yes."
"Good." Hermione glanced up from her parchment to look Draco in the eye. "For what it's worth, I believe you." Hermione thought she saw his expression soften slightly. "And I think there's a good case to be made that most of your crimes were committed under duress to keep yourself and your family safe. However, McLaggen is going to try to disprove all that. So, I'm going to need to view your memories and share parts of them as evidence."
Draco frowned deeply. "I don't really want you poking around inside my head, Granger."
"I understand, but the court is going to need proof of your statements—they're going to want to see for themselves. I'm going to need anything that shows Voldemort threatened you and your family. I'm assuming you have memories to show that?"
Draco nodded.
"Okay. Then that's what we're going to work on next." Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "I can't make any promises that he'll agree, but I'm going to ask Harry to testify on your behalf."
"Potter? Why? He doesn't have anything to do with this."
"Actually . . . he does. He was there in the Astronomy Tower the night Dumbledore died. He was hidden but he saw everything. His testimony could be extremely valuable in proving that you didn't intend to kill Dumbledore, even if Snape hadn't shown up."
"I-I had no idea he was there." Draco blinked several times, looking severely shocked.
Hermione saw realization dawn on his face, and he looked up at her with hope, the first time she'd seen any the entire time she worked with him.
"Do you think this might actually work? I might get out of here?" he asked in amazement.
"I think we have a lot of work ahead of us but, yes, I think you could."
Suddenly, Draco reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "Thank you," he said, gazing at her intently.
Surprised, Hermione dropped her quill. Draco's touch felt cool and firm, but surprisingly gentle. His fingers rubbed over hers before releasing them entirely.
Hermione gaped at him. She had no idea why, but the sensation of his touch caused her heart to quicken. "It's my job," she said, quickly averting her gaze.
***
The next day, Draco was on the roof of Azkaban for one of three hours he got every week of outside time. For the first time since he'd been there, the gloomy sky above him held promise.
After his conversation with Granger yesterday, he finally allowed himself to have hope that he might not be doomed to this fate for the rest of his life.
The fact that she could be getting Harry Potter to testify for him was huge. If Potter agreed, and if his testimony was convincing, Draco knew the Wizengamot could be swayed. If anyone could get Harry Potter to plead his case, Draco was certain it was Hermione Granger. Perhaps his mother was right, after all.
Draco made his way to the far side of the roof, to do a series of pullups on a metal pipe. He usually made the most of his outside time by getting some physical exercise. Being forced to live in a box most of the time made him crave exertion.
Suddenly, he noticed three shadows behind him and turned around to see Dolohov, Rowle, and Macnair—three former Death Eaters, two whom Draco had tortured under Voldemort's command.
Of all the crimes Draco had committed, those were the ones he felt the least guilty about. Although he had hated actually performing the curse, he didn't hold any favor for Antonin Dolohov or Thorfinn Rowle. Draco had witnessed Dolohov and Rowle torturing and killing multiple people over his time as a Death Eater and recalled how much they'd enjoyed doing it. No wonder they'd been convicted to Azkaban for the rest of their lives.
"Malfoy!" Dolohov growled menacingly. "Heard you have Hermione Granger for an Inquisitor. Think that filthy Mudblood is going to save you, huh?"
Draco's muscles tensed. "Watch your mouth, Dolohov. You never were very smart."
Dolohov spat on the ground. "And you should be ashamed, letting a Mudblood plead your case. Where's your loyalty, boy?"
"It's certainly not with you. Voldemort's dead, but if he wasn't, it wouldn't be with him anymore, either."
"You think you're so clever, Malfoy." Dolohov sneered. "But I've still got connections on the outside. Maybe I'll have one of our old friends pay your sweet little Inquisitor a visit. I'm sure they'd be happy to. After all, Mudbloods still have their uses—"
Draco was on Dolohov in an instant. He pushed him roughly against the brick wall and smashed his fist into Dolohov's face. "If one of your goons comes within fifty feet of her, I swear—"
Dolohov laughed, blood dripping from his nose, no doubt pleased with the reaction his words had elicited. "Wait until your father hears about this. You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name!" He signaled to his companions, causing Rowle and Macnair to pull Draco back.
Draco felt a hard fist connect with his jaw. He let a few of his own retaliating shots fly, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Within seconds, he was thrown to the ground, being kicked and beaten mercilessly.
***
A/N: I apologize for not posting a preview to social media last week. Things got crazy busy, but I will post one for the next chapter today. Although, I'm curious, has anyone been reading those? I'm not sure if people like them, or if you prefer to just read the whole chapter at once? Let me know!
Oh, and sorry for ending this chapter with Draco getting beat up. If you leave a vote and comment, it will probably make him feel better ;)