~*~

Once home at the Manor, she wrote to the human rights organization that had been helping her with Oliver's case. She'd received an update from them on Friday informing her that Oliver would be released by the end of the week, and sent to live with his family in Glasgow. In her reply, she thanked them for their help, and added a line or two inquiring about defense counsel. The response she received that evening was less than enthusiastic, clearly reading between the lines that the services would be for a defendant in the Edinburgh Trials.

She told Narcissa about the dilemma over dinner. By Wednesday, Narcissa had received polite rejections from every lawyer who'd ever worked with the Malfoys. And so Hermione started from scratch. She began digging for criminal defense attorneys in the Prophet, looking specifically for ones who had represented infamous clients in the past. After receiving a dozen rejections by Friday, she broadened her search to the New York Ghost, where she stumbled upon the name Alan Shrapley. He'd just won an appeal for a client who had been accused of espionage against M.A.C.U.S.A. A quick look into his record found a slew of similar cases — almost all of them won. He was known to be one of the highest-charging attorneys in America.

Hermione told Narcissa about him, and after thinking it over with a sip from her teacup, Narcissa said, "I think it's wise to invest in someone who has no personal ties, a good track record, and is purely motivated by money. It's what Lucius would have done."

She wrote to Alan Shrapley that afternoon. His reply, requesting to schedule a consultation, was waiting on Draco's desk for her the next morning. They would speak on Monday. Hermione penned a hasty letter to Hestia, apologizing for the short notice, but requesting immediate approval for visitation at Azkaban. It arrived within two hours.

The sun was setting when she arrived at Azkaban. She handed over her wand, and let the guard lead her down a different stone corridor. It seemed colder, more desolate in this corner of the prison. They reached a meeting room, and the guard knocked before opening the door for her.

Blaise sat in one of the two metal chairs, his legs kicked up on the tabletop and his hands folded across his stomach. His hands were cuffed together, and a similar chain linked his ankles. He sent her a ghost of his brilliant smile.

"To what do I owe the honor?"

The guilt and sorrow hit her like a crashing wave. She blinked, filing it away as she moved to the table. "Your trial will begin in two weeks."

His grin flickered. "Ah."

"Sorry for the abruptness, but we only have ten minutes." She twisted her fingers together. "I've secured an attorney from America for you. A good one."

Blaise lowered his legs and sat forward, placing his hands on the table. "Brilliant. I'll always be handsome, Granger, but one can only do so much with these." He smirked up at her and gestured to his chains.