Second Chances

Hermione sat outside Fudges office twisting her hands together and occasionally fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. She felt lost now. She had nothing to use against Fudge, no loopholes and no little known law that would stop the trial from happening. The one thing she’d relied on her entire life, her mind, all that academic knowledge had failed her now when she needed it the most.



“Calm down Hermione,” Molly said, patting her knee while the knitting she had been doing continued without her hand.



“I can’t help it,” Hermione said, fighting with the lump in her throat. “I’ve got nothing to help. No laws, no ideas. I’m screwed.”



“As I’ve said a thousand times academics is not the way to go.” Molly replied cryptically.



“What other way is there?” Hermione asked, it was a question she’d asked a thousand times in the two weeks since she’d begun her arduous search for a ray of hope. She had been refused permission to see Barty repeatedly, only being allowed to send letters none of which he was allowed to reply to. They didn’t even trust him to be sending them to her.



“You’ll work it out.”



“So far I’ve worked nothing out,” Hermione said in frustration, “My brain is all worked out.”



“This isn’t about thinking with your head Hermione.” Molly said drawing Hermione’s total attention. If she didn’t think with her head what did she think with?



Before she could ponder the point any longer the door opened and Fudge stood there, a big politicians smile on his face, “Ah, Miss Granger and you’ve got Mrs Weasley for company. How delightful. Will you be joining us in the meeting Molly?”



“No,” Molly replied before Hermione could ask, “I think this is something Hermione should do on her own. Arthur’s just outside anyway.” She stood her knitting automatically climbing into her massive bag, “I’ll go and wait with him, you know where we’ll be when your ready to go.” She said, patting Hermione’s shoulder as she stood.



“Goodbye Molly, say hello to Arthur for me would you?” Fudge replied before he beckoned Hermione into his office and shut the door after her. “Sit down, Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”



Hermione twitched a smile at his over the top courtesy; he’d been practically unflappable since being re-elected after the war had finished. “Minister, I think you know why I’m here-”



“Please, please, call me Cornelius, my dear.” He said, sitting behind his desk and leaning back, tenting his hands below his chin.



“Okay, I’m here to ask that you do not put Barty Crouch Jnr on trial.”



“My dear, you can’t ask that,” Fudge said, his face dropping and pink colouring entering his cheeks. “He has to answer for his crimes.”



“Crimes that you know full well he has been punished for. You have to admit he is no longer the man who committed them.” Hermione held herself in check, refusing to raise her voice or change her tone.



“I don’t have to admit anything,” Fudge retorted, shifting in his seat. “The trial will go ahead as is Miss Granger, now there is nothing you can do so if that is all you came here for I think you should leave.”



“No,” Hermione replied, gripping the arms of her chair, “You have to believe me when I say that he is not the man they sent to Azkaban all those years ago.”



“I’m afraid it’s not a matter of believing the feelings of one woman Miss Granger. There’s the evidence to consider.” Fudge stood up, making her jump to her feet too.



“Sit. Back. Down,” she said, leaning her hands on his desk and looking down at him as he automatically did as she asked, he could see the fire in her eyes. “There is the evidence of a man who no longer exists. There is evidence of actions done by someone who died when he got snogged by a Dementor. What there is no tangible evidence of is the man he is now. So unless you listen to me you will never know what an amazing, intelligent, loving man you are persecuting.”



Tears pricked her eyes, a feeling of total abandon came over her. If this was an argument she was going to loose this she was going to loose it feeling she had given her all. “I love him, with every fibre of my being and it’s not magic in the way you’d like to believe. He hasn’t used any potions or cast any spells. The magic that makes me feel the way I feel about him is the magic that makes life worth living. The everyday magic you feel when butterflies explode in your stomach whenever you see that one person in the world who can make the sun shine just for you, someone you love to just be around. The magic of falling asleep in their arms knowing you get to do it all over again tomorrow.”



“I know every freckle on his face, how his nose wrinkles when he laughs, God I even know how much sugar he likes in his tea and which biscuit tastes best dipped in it! Knowing that you could take my chance of spending my life with him it…” She choked hard on a sob that wouldn’t stay down, “It makes it hurt to breath. If you take him from me Minister you’ll be taking my heart and soul.”



Fudge sat in stunned silence looking at the woman before him, tears falling down her face, her nose running and she didn’t care. “Miss Granger I can’t just call off a trial like that.”



Hermione looked down at her hands, her eyes closing against his words, “Minister, I’ve spent that last two weeks reading everything I could get my hands on about magical law. There is no precedent for this trial. No one has ever come back from a Dementors kiss. What has been done with the others Voldemort brought back? Did they all stand trial too?”



When he didn’t reply she knew the answer, “Then why make an example of him? I can understand that Harry Potter has a personal interest in this case, he, after all, is the reason you have him in custody. Harry is in a position of power is he not?”



“I cannot discuss this any longer,” Fudge replied finally, in truth he was becoming steadily more and more unnerved by the conversation. It was striking too close to home for him. “Please Miss Granger,” he held his hand out to the door which opened behind her.



“Can I at least see him? Will you grant me a visitation, please?” Hermione asked, meeting his eyes though he kept avoiding hers, “I’ve never felt such a part of another person before in my life and being separated from him, not knowing how he is… it’s too painful to describe.”



“I’ll see what I can do.” Fudge said, looking away until he heard the door shut behind her. Reaching into his bottom drawer he pulled out a piece of scroll and a quill. With a quick flick of his wrist he set it up before dictating to beginning of what would be a long and diplomatic letter,



“Dear Mr Potter,

If I am to understand what has just been told to me by one Miss Hermione Granger, you are refusing her visitation rights to a one Mr Bartimous Crouch Jnr. As there has been no official visitation restrictions placed upon the prisoner in question I would like to request you reconsider you position on this matter. Further to that I wish to meet with you to discuss said prisoner and his status…”