With Good Intentions

They’d grown used to each other during the preparation for two defense trials in two years and the civil lawsuit for the miscarriage of justice that led to Draco’s public execution.

“Lord Malfoy, you’ll need a better defense. The court’s being manipulated.”

“You’ve done more than could be expected, Miss Granger. Tutela tells me he couldn’t have mounted anything like a competent defense without your assistance. You have my gratitude.”

“Don’t thank me, Lord Malfoy —”

“I prefer Lucius.”

“Lucius, then. Without a better plan, you’ll be dead in a year.”

Bereft of everything meaningful but the substantial Black legacy, death no longer concerned the planet’s only Malfoy.

“I have a proposition to make…” she started, direct as always, “Tutela's in his late 130’s and, frankly, unprepared for a court system where wealth and status have no sway. Time was when he’d have negotiated you out of this and saved Draco’s life with well-placed galleons. I’m better suited to the task; this will take time and… strategy.”

“What are you asking? And why? It’s not as if our… relationship… is based on trust or friendship, though you’ve been invaluable. I doubt I’d be alive today without you.”

The effort to railroad the Malfoys into nonexistence had already claimed two targets. Hermione had no intention of letting them claim the last.

“It is of little consequence, Miss Granger, whether I win or lose.”

Anger ignited in those cafe au lait eyes of her. He’d observed it the many times she’d stayed at the guest house, the only Malfoy property in Britain the Ministry allowed him the use of. If her eyes changed temperature, Tutela, the Malfoy family’s attourney for over 80 years, found a reason to escape.

“I fought in that war to make the world safe for magical minorities against the privileged and powerful. All I’ve managed to do is change the names — from Malfoy and LeStrange to Potter and Weasley. I don’t like it and I refuse to stand by and have my sacrifices misused.” 

“Is that all?”

A quick glance had her laughing at his droll quip.

“No. I want to take back the wizarding world from the “Light”. I can do a bloody better job than they can.”

Surprise and admiration played across Lucius’ features. He’d wondered at her motives, having never been close to altruism or purpose not tied to personal gain. How she’d survived with that ridiculous sense of justice intact amused him and gave him something to use. The witch might just accomplish his secret desire — to be back on top punishing those who’d used the system to destroy his family. 

Manipulation of the Wizengamot wasn’t on his resume yet.

“You’re talking treason, Ms. Granger —”

“Hermione.”

Both grinned. Whatever came after, that moment of camaraderie created co-conspirators in the next revolution.

“I’m talking — Lucius — of finishing what Dumbledore started, what Harry’s abandoned.”

Waiting silently brought the major steps and needs of her plan from her mouth as tea was served by their involuntary house elf. Winky, Barty Crouch’s former house elf, attached herself to Hermione; she’d unintentionally witnessed Molly Weasley’s memory modification of a willing Harry Potter.

“First, you have to stay out of jail. I can’t defend you officially until I complete school and pass my solicitor’s licensing exam. I’ll need funding to accelerate my program.”

“Done. How long will it take?

“Two years. Can you hold out that long?”

“Can you keep me out of jail that long?”

“I think I can… if Tutela doesn’t die on us.”

As the hour was late, the Lord of the Cottage rose and placed a kiss of genuine gratitude on her forehead.

“You’ve given me a reason to be interested in this life again. Even when he tormented you, Draco expressed what a remarkable witch you were. I apologize for not recognizing a kindred soul. You should have been a Slytherin.”

Ascnding the steps for bed, the cunning Lord registered her cold laugh and final observation:

“Probably am…”