Prophecy 472

8- The Trial

Hermione swung her legs over the cot bed, stretching her limbs and trying to rub a knot out of her neck. The bed had been stiff, causing her muscles to ache this morning, but somehow she felt rested. It was as if she'd slept better than she had in years, calmed somehow by an outside presence. She looked down then at the stuffed bunny in her hand. Funny, she didn't remembering bringing it the previous night.

Suddenly, she remembered everything; the questions, the cell, leaving Rose behind. At the thought of Rose her head dropped to her knees and she wrapped her arms around her legs, ready to give in to a good cry.

"Hermione Granger?" a guard called. "You have guests."

The barred door swung open then and in walked Harry, Ginny, Arthur, Molly, Ron and Lavender. Hermione suppressed a groan at the sight of Lavender, though she supposed the girl would be the least of her worries that day. Ginny sat down next to Hermione on the cot and handed her a fresh cup of tea, and Hermione smiled in thanks.

"What's going to happen?" Hermione asked as Harry sat on a bench across from her.

"We're going into the formal trial soon. It'll be tough, but I know the presiding head. He should be fair."

Hermione nodded, noticing Harry looked like he hadn't slept in days. They all did actually, except maybe Lavender.

"Where's…"

"Rose is at home with Bill and Fleur," Ginny answered quickly, before Hermione could finish her question. Hermione let out a sigh of relief, and then eyed the group around her. She knew the tests they'd performed on her last night had something to do with Rose, but she wasn't sure how much was revealed.

"Hermione, we know," Harry said. Hermione's eyes darted up to his then, and she knew they were both thinking about the same thing.

"Yes, dear, they say there's something about Rose," Molly said delicately. "That perhaps you're not her mother."

Hermione took her time looking at each of them carefully, like a caged animal at a zoo might eye the intruders watching it from outside the glass. She shook her head softly no, telling them she wouldn't speak on the subject.

"Great, well I'm glad we got that all cleared up," Lavender said sarcastically. "You know, we are trying to help you Hermione."

"I can take care of myself, thanks." Hermione pulled her knees closer as she said it, knowing she was doing a poor job of convincing anyone of that fact. But she wouldn't take pity, least of all from Lavender Brown. She was Hermione Granger, for goodness sake. She helped kill Voldemort, she was the cleverest witch of her age. She'd lived three years with a burning secret and a mission that would have seen Lav-Lav collapse after one day. She could at least handle this.

"Mr. Ron," a high pitched male voice squeaked. Hermione looked up to see one of the officers who'd checked her in passing by her cell.

"Smidgehorn," Ron said distractedly.

"You know Mr. Ron, if you want to sleep here again, you just let me know," Smidgehorn continued. "I can at least get you a blanket and pillow, you must have been freezing sleeping on the floor like that."

"That won't be necessary Smidgehorn, thanks."

Hermione looked at Ron, confused. He had slept here? Outside her cell? All night? Ron was looking resolutely at the floor, the tips of his ears turning telltale red and his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

"You spent the night here?" Lavender said, half whisper and half hiss.

"Can we talk about this later?" Ron begged quietly. "In private?"