Would You Believe - 4/7
Author:Irisri
Title:It Doesn't Matter 4/7
Rating:G
Summary:It really doesn't matter if a person saves the world, if they helped a little puppy off the road or screamed to stop a murder that was happening before their eyes. They can still be evil, and can still hurt, and it doesn't matter who.
Word Count:1,098
Pairing:Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Other
Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter
The day before the trial, he is back. Suddenly, I would rather take on ten men armless than have him invading my cell and space. He keeps his voice low and firm, like I'm a small child that got caught with their hand stuck in the chocolate frog jar.
"Why didn't you tell someone?" he suddenly asks.
I look up at him, knowing what he's asking, but acting confused.
"That he abused you."
I laugh mirthlessly. "If I walked up to you five years ago and told you my husband was beating me, would you have believed me?" He looks deep into my gaze. "If I walked in your office and told you that Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, Voldemort was beating me like a punchbag, would you have offered me help?" He finally shakes his head. "Exactly. He was the Minster of Magic, Boy Who Lived after battling the Dark Lord countless times, why would anyone believe his sidekick who'd suffered through the war, the loss of her friends? They would have put me in St. Mungo's."
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"Because I'm your attorney."
"I think there's more to that."
"You're very beautiful, even if you do have a scar on your cheek."
I glare at him. "No one is beautiful in this place. We're all ugly, nameless except for cell numbers and finger pointing. Our identity is nothing here. Surely you know that after Lucius Malfoy was in here."
"It was different then."
"It's different now."
"Hermione---"
"My name is Miss Granger to you," I say sharply. "Don't address me by anything but that."
He gets up from the cot and starts walking over to me before he puts his hands on my shoulders. I flinch, a reaction that happens no matter how time passes. "I could be taken off the case if I got involved with you," he whispers.
"You couldn't," I say stubbornly. "I wouldn't let you. I refuse to let another man touch me." I lift my chin as if that would stop him.
He lifts his hand to my cheek and I lean away because I feel like a blow is coming. When his hand touches my cheek, the shock of feeling that is there jolts me even more than the jolt, the bad kind, that happened whenever Harry hit me. He looks at me and tilts my head up.
I wonder how Marcus Flint had turned into this gentle, yet overbearing creature. I remember the time when he tried to knock Harry off his Nimbus 2000 with a Club in Second Year in Hogwarts and wonder if he knew even then that while Harry was trying to save the world, he was also evil. I look up at him, my eyes big.
For the first time I notice his eyes aren't gray that's so common in Slyterin, but they're a light brown that seem to be flecked with a cinnamon color. Then I jump away from him. He stalks towards me and at the last second I grab a knife that is hidden under my cot and slash his arm with it. He looks at me in surprise because I'm breathing hard. Then I look at the wound and I feel sick. Before I think anything about it, I grab a thin sheet and cut a piece of it off before wadding it up and pressing it to his arm.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's just that I was scared. It was like what Harry did. I'm sorry." I don't know what I'm saying I'm sorry, or why I even am sorry, but I'm doing what I'm doing and I feel like I have no way of stopping it. He stops my panicking hand with his and looks up at me, the look in his eyes says that he's surprised and touched that I'm sorry and caring about it.
As I try to look away, that isn't working, we somehow get closer and then finally our lips touch for the briefest second before we shuffle apart.
"Maybe you should go."
"Yes, I should," he replies.
"I'll see you tomorrow at the trial."
We look at each other for a second longer, and know that it may be the last time we see each other at all, unless he comes to Askaban on visits.
The next day, as we get ready, he quizzes me like a math teacher quizzes a student.
"The plaintiff will batter you every time that you open your mouth, so you mustn't say even one wrong word, or the jury will be on their side." he waits for me to nod before he continues. "He'll ask your questions quickly, trying to misguide you into what he's saying, so wait a few seconds and process what he's saying before you open your mouth to even take a breath. Keep your eyes on the attorney, even if it's me asking you the questions or it will look like you're hiding something." He takes hold of my arms and grasps them and I feel as if he might bruise me, even though I know he won't. He leans down and looks straight into my eyes. "Think about the day it happened, every single detail. Think about your children, and how much you want to see them again."
He looks at me harder and I swallow loudly. "What if I forget something?" I ask in a whisper, suddenly realising how important this is.
"Then you forget it."
"Can I ask any questions?"
"If you ask the judge first. Look him straight into the eyes too. He may decline it though, so there is no guarantee."
I nod again.
I hear the chimes that alert us that it's time for the trial. I swallow again, and feel my heart in my throat. Until this day, I didn't know how crucial it really was to see my children again. Or that I might want to see Marcus on a regular basis, if only as friends. But suddenly, I want those to things more than anything in the world. More than the friendship of my former friends, none of which had come to see me, not even Ron. More than a job. More than a wand replacement. What I want was to live again, to laugh, to play, to jump and run and be free.
He grasps my arms again before enfolding me into a bear hug. I hug him back before he eases away.
"Are you ready?"
It takes all my strength and effort to nod.
Chapters
Murder, When You Hurt, The Attorney, Would You Believe?, The Trial, Judgement, Coming Home
Title:It Doesn't Matter 4/7
Rating:G
Summary:It really doesn't matter if a person saves the world, if they helped a little puppy off the road or screamed to stop a murder that was happening before their eyes. They can still be evil, and can still hurt, and it doesn't matter who.
Word Count:1,098
Pairing:Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Other
Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter
The day before the trial, he is back. Suddenly, I would rather take on ten men armless than have him invading my cell and space. He keeps his voice low and firm, like I'm a small child that got caught with their hand stuck in the chocolate frog jar.
"Why didn't you tell someone?" he suddenly asks.
I look up at him, knowing what he's asking, but acting confused.
"That he abused you."
I laugh mirthlessly. "If I walked up to you five years ago and told you my husband was beating me, would you have believed me?" He looks deep into my gaze. "If I walked in your office and told you that Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, Voldemort was beating me like a punchbag, would you have offered me help?" He finally shakes his head. "Exactly. He was the Minster of Magic, Boy Who Lived after battling the Dark Lord countless times, why would anyone believe his sidekick who'd suffered through the war, the loss of her friends? They would have put me in St. Mungo's."
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"Because I'm your attorney."
"I think there's more to that."
"You're very beautiful, even if you do have a scar on your cheek."
I glare at him. "No one is beautiful in this place. We're all ugly, nameless except for cell numbers and finger pointing. Our identity is nothing here. Surely you know that after Lucius Malfoy was in here."
"It was different then."
"It's different now."
"Hermione---"
"My name is Miss Granger to you," I say sharply. "Don't address me by anything but that."
He gets up from the cot and starts walking over to me before he puts his hands on my shoulders. I flinch, a reaction that happens no matter how time passes. "I could be taken off the case if I got involved with you," he whispers.
"You couldn't," I say stubbornly. "I wouldn't let you. I refuse to let another man touch me." I lift my chin as if that would stop him.
He lifts his hand to my cheek and I lean away because I feel like a blow is coming. When his hand touches my cheek, the shock of feeling that is there jolts me even more than the jolt, the bad kind, that happened whenever Harry hit me. He looks at me and tilts my head up.
I wonder how Marcus Flint had turned into this gentle, yet overbearing creature. I remember the time when he tried to knock Harry off his Nimbus 2000 with a Club in Second Year in Hogwarts and wonder if he knew even then that while Harry was trying to save the world, he was also evil. I look up at him, my eyes big.
For the first time I notice his eyes aren't gray that's so common in Slyterin, but they're a light brown that seem to be flecked with a cinnamon color. Then I jump away from him. He stalks towards me and at the last second I grab a knife that is hidden under my cot and slash his arm with it. He looks at me in surprise because I'm breathing hard. Then I look at the wound and I feel sick. Before I think anything about it, I grab a thin sheet and cut a piece of it off before wadding it up and pressing it to his arm.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's just that I was scared. It was like what Harry did. I'm sorry." I don't know what I'm saying I'm sorry, or why I even am sorry, but I'm doing what I'm doing and I feel like I have no way of stopping it. He stops my panicking hand with his and looks up at me, the look in his eyes says that he's surprised and touched that I'm sorry and caring about it.
As I try to look away, that isn't working, we somehow get closer and then finally our lips touch for the briefest second before we shuffle apart.
"Maybe you should go."
"Yes, I should," he replies.
"I'll see you tomorrow at the trial."
We look at each other for a second longer, and know that it may be the last time we see each other at all, unless he comes to Askaban on visits.
The next day, as we get ready, he quizzes me like a math teacher quizzes a student.
"The plaintiff will batter you every time that you open your mouth, so you mustn't say even one wrong word, or the jury will be on their side." he waits for me to nod before he continues. "He'll ask your questions quickly, trying to misguide you into what he's saying, so wait a few seconds and process what he's saying before you open your mouth to even take a breath. Keep your eyes on the attorney, even if it's me asking you the questions or it will look like you're hiding something." He takes hold of my arms and grasps them and I feel as if he might bruise me, even though I know he won't. He leans down and looks straight into my eyes. "Think about the day it happened, every single detail. Think about your children, and how much you want to see them again."
He looks at me harder and I swallow loudly. "What if I forget something?" I ask in a whisper, suddenly realising how important this is.
"Then you forget it."
"Can I ask any questions?"
"If you ask the judge first. Look him straight into the eyes too. He may decline it though, so there is no guarantee."
I nod again.
I hear the chimes that alert us that it's time for the trial. I swallow again, and feel my heart in my throat. Until this day, I didn't know how crucial it really was to see my children again. Or that I might want to see Marcus on a regular basis, if only as friends. But suddenly, I want those to things more than anything in the world. More than the friendship of my former friends, none of which had come to see me, not even Ron. More than a job. More than a wand replacement. What I want was to live again, to laugh, to play, to jump and run and be free.
He grasps my arms again before enfolding me into a bear hug. I hug him back before he eases away.
"Are you ready?"
It takes all my strength and effort to nod.
Chapters
Murder, When You Hurt, The Attorney, Would You Believe?, The Trial, Judgement, Coming Home