A Question of Loyalty

Hermione found herself seated in a small and dank room in one of the darkest corners of the Ministry. Dampening wards were placed all around the room, even in the ceiling and floor and she could see the faint glow of more powerful wards around the door. It seemed that the Ministry was overly suspicious of what a suspected Death Eater might do, wand or no wand.

Standing up and stretching slightly to relieve the muscle cramp in her left leg, Hermione began to pace around the room. Ten steps by eight steps, with only a small hard bench bolted into the wall at one end. With a small sigh, she sat down on the bench once more.

There was a slight scuffling sound outside the door and Hermione jumped out once more, her hand automatically going for her wand - which obviously wasn't there. It seemed that paranoia was inbuilt into her as well. "Who's there?" she said her voice only wobbling slightly. "Whoever it is, you're mistaken! I'm no Death Eater!"

The door swung open and a man walked in. He nodded perfunctorily at the Auror who walked away and then closed the door behind him. With obvious distaste, he observed the surroundings and then walked until he was standing directly in front of Hermione. "You don't look powerful enough," was his only comment as his eyes swept up and down her.

Hermione frowned slightly. The man looked very familiar. Too familiar. Mentally, she aged him about twenty years, lengthened his hair and gave him a snake cane. "Lucius Malfoy," she stated.

To her surprise, he laughed. It wasn't as unpleasant a sound as she thought it would be. Rather, it was rather rich and warm and not exactly reminiscent of the kind of laugh she thought You-Know-Who's right hand man would have. Somehow, Hermione had always thought that Malfoy's laugh might be somewhat like what Harry had always described Voldemort's laugh to be like. High, cold, the kind of laugh that sent shivers down the backs of little children.

"That is my name," he agreed.

"What, in Merlin's name, are you doing here?" Hermione spat. "Death Eater!" She took an involuntary step backwards.

He gave her a little frown and then a twisted smile. "I'm afraid that it is you who is accused of being a Death Eater."

Hermione could think of nothing to say to those words.

Lucius gave her another one of those appraising looks and she shivered. There was nothing sexual in the look, but she still felt?valued. It felt like he was pricing her and cataloguing her. "Appearances can be deceiving, don't you agree?" he said conversationally. When she didn't answer, he continued. "For example, you do not look like a very powerful witch. Yet Priori Incantum showed that you have performed the Imperius Curse."

Hermione glared at him. She couldn't understand why he was here. "Why are you here?" A horrifying thought occurred to her. "You aren't on my defence team for the trial, are you?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. "Your defence team?" he repeated, voice mildly incredulous. "Suspected Death Eaters do not have a defence team. Don't you realise that your trial will be a mere formality."

She felt a wave of nausea overtake her. "A formality?" she repeated softly. "So, I'm going to Azkaban." With slightly shaking legs, Hermione sat down again and buried her face in her hands. Everything she had read in the history books had pointed to the rapidly increasing arrests in this period. Hermione, like everybody else, had simply assumed that the Aurors had gotten lucky, but it seemed that there was a far more sinister reason. With a sinking heart, she realised that Sirius's farce of a trial was more common than anybody had ever suspected.

"If you're lucky," Lucius seemed determined to burst every bubble she had. "Your age might be the only fact that saves you from the Kiss. You have yet to reach the age of majority." He shrugged. "Some are squeamish of putting such a pretty, young witch as you to death."

Hermione bit her lip.

"Of course, some would say that sucking the soul out of the body does not constitute death." Lucius's face held an intense expression of concentration. "There are some very interesting works in this area. After all, your body would still technically be alive." He gave her a sly smile.

Hermione took a deep breath, attempting to calm her frayed nerves. "What are you doing here then?"

"Offering my help," Lucius said simply.

Hermione looked up at him and snorted. "You are offering to help me?" she repeated.

Lucius tilted his head slightly to one side. "You find that surprising?" he asked mildly.

Well yes! Hermione's mental voice screamed. I'm Muggle-born, why on earth would you want to help me? However, she decided that it was perhaps unwise to say that out aloud. "And how could you help me? You just spent the last five minutes convincing me that I would be lucky if I got a lifetime in Azkaban."

To that, Lucius simply gave her an enigmatic smile. Reaching into one of the pockets of his immaculate robes, he pulled out a small pin, which he pinned onto her robes. "This is a portkey which is activated when it comes into contact with blood. It will work anywhere outside of the range of these dampeners. I suggest that you activate it while the Wizengamot are sentencing you." He gave a slight smile. "It would be amusing."

"That's Dark Magic!" Hermione accused. Very intelligent, her mental voice chastised her. Annoy the one person who is trying to help you. It doesn't matter that it's Lucius Malfoy. Tell me, girl, would you rather Azkaban?

Lucius surprised her again when he simply gave her a nod. "Very well done, Miss Granger. There are few your age who would know that."

"How do you know my name?"

"I have my sources," Lucius said smoothly. "Besides, you know of my name, so you must know of my family's influence. My father sits on the Wizengamot and hence I can come here and experience our justice system in action whenever I want. There is quite the furore up there about you."

She was struck by the similarities and yet differences between a young Lucius Malfoy and a young Draco Malfoy. Where Draco simply relied on his family influence to get him places, Lucius seemed to only refer to his family after he established his own power. Although both of them exuded arrogance and pureblood pride, there was something less grating about the older Malfoy. "Why are you helping me?" she asked.

"You are a powerful witch," he said slowly. "I would hate to see that power go to waste. You see to have a few prejudices against Dark Magic I would like to erase." He paused and gave her a sly smile. "Besides, what sort of wizard would I be if I stood idly by while a pretty pureblooded witch was sent to Azkaban."

Hermione only just managed to stop her jaw dropping in surprise. He thought that she was pureblooded? Well that explained a lot. She decided to ignore what was an obvious bit of flattery.

He inclined his head politely towards her. "It is your choice. But remember, there are dampeners in Azkaban as well." Lucius opened the door and left. The wards sealed themselves seamlessly behind him, shutting Hermione alone in the small room once more.

Hermione slowly unpinned the little pin from her robes and stared at it. The snake was curled up on itself so that the pin was almost round. From the feel and shine of it, it was made of silver and about the size of her thumbnail.

Lucius Malfoy had surprised her in more ways than one with his entrance. It was true that he would have never helped her if he had known her true bloodlines, but otherwise, he seemed so utterly human. He didn't seem anything like the impression she had of him in her second year. Even the faint impression she had in her fifth year of him snarling and firing curses at her didn't seem completely accurate. This Lucius was less hard than what he would be in the future. There was an almost innocence about him that managed to gleam through at instances, but she suspected that would disappear very soon in the upcoming years.

Toying with the pin in her fingers, Hermione wondered if she could do this. Defy the Ministry like this. After all, she had performed an Unforgivable. Was she really expecting to face no consequences for that action? Did it really matter whether the trial was a farce or not? She had committed the deed. Regardless of how she looked at it, she was guilty.

But Azkaban?

The memory of the Dementors in her third year still haunted her. They hadn't affected her as much as they had Harry, but then again, she hadn't survived her parents' death.

But the cold fingers of laughter coming from malicious students still hurt.

Could she really voluntarily condemn herself to a lifetime of that?

Especially if she had an alternative?

But the alternative, Hermione knew, was no real alternative at all. Safety among the Death Eaters was as fleeting as a summer shower. And she would be the utmost fool to think that she would not be summarily executed once they realised her true Mudblood status.

She didn't even know where the portkey would take her. Fool! She hadn't even thought to ask.

Hoping against hope, Hermione wondered whether the Wizengamot would find it within them to not sentence her to Azkaban. No chance, she thought bitterly, but still hoped.

She had just been in this time for less than twenty-four hours and already Hermione could feel the fear that clung to the air. It was unspoken fear but it was still there. She could see it in the Marauders' eyes. She could hear it in the Headmaster's words. And she could feel it almost coming in waves from the Aurors as they had escorted her into this room.

With numb fingers, Hermione repinned the little snake pin onto her dusty robes. She would decide when the time came.

---

The cold dungeon made Hermione shiver as she sat in the chair, clamps around her wrists and ankles, listening to Dumbledore give testimony. Every now and then she risked a glance upwards at the members of the Wizengamot, but all looked away when her gaze fell on them. It was as if they too were infected with the same fear as the Marauders, as Dumbledore, as the Aurors felt.

"Miss Granger," Crouch turned towards her, "if that is truly your real name. The last spell performed by your wand was the Imperius Curse. By your own admission, you performed this Curse. What do you have to say for yourself before we pass judgement on you?"

"You don't understand!" Hermione said desperately. "I'm from the future. There's a war going on. We have to learn those spells."

Crouch gave a barking laugh. "Do you have anything of use to say, or will you drag us through these asinine excuses of yours again?"

"Give me Veritaserum then if you don't believe me!"

"I'm afraid that is not necessary, Miss Granger," Crouch told her impassively. "You see, we have all the evidence we need. You confessed to using an Unforgivable." With a glance upwards at the Wizengamot, he cleared his throat. "We hereby sentence you to a lifetime in Azkaban. All in favour?"

Hermione looked at the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, all of which unanimously raised their hands. Their eyes seemed to bore into her, condemning her for being a Dark Witch.

"I'm not!" she tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Crouch waved a hand towards an Auror standing at the edge of the courtroom who opened one of the doors and then jumped back. To her horror, Hermione saw a pair of Dementors glide out, black robes swirling, rotting hands reaching out for her.

Immediately she felt the icy-coldness overtake her. The restraints on her chair snapped open but she didn't feel like she could run or hide. The taunting voices began sounding in her mind.

The pin!

Hermione could only faintly remember that she had a pin somewhere on her robes that could get her out of this situation. Looking downwards, thorough fuzzy vision, she could just spot the shiny silver snake pin. She lifted her hand and grasped it, feeling the needle-like point slide into her thumb.

She felt the tugging motion of the portkey and immediately the effects of the Dementors subsided. When she felt almost herself again, she looked up and into the grey and amused eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

"You took my advice," he said before lifting his wand. "Stupefy!"

Hermione collapsed.