He was a silver shark in shallow waters, toying with a dolphin he'd run ashore.

"No-Majs have always fascinated me, Miss Granger." Shrapley's voice echoed off the polished floors, bringing her back to the present. "I'd pick your brain if only we had the time."

Hermione was silent as he turned a page.

She'd never quite met someone whose brain worked as fast as her own, but counterintuitively. Whereas she organized facts to scrutinize them, Shrapley lined them up to batter them into submission. He liked games even more than Lucius Malfoy, she'd discovered, and his favorite was impatience. He waited until his opponent became restless, and then he'd begin the game.

But not today.

With a snap of his fingers, he closed the centuries-old Muggle volume. "The motions were denied."

The muscles in her face twitched. "Which ones?"

"All of them. The court won't allow the review of Blaise's memories apart from his time in Italy and Edinburgh, or any of your memories regarding his character. The Prosecution will be allowed to include affidavits from the witnesses who won't be available for cross-examination."

Her heart sank lower and lower.

"It's all fine, Miss Granger," he said, a glint in his eyes. "That was always the easy way. But we had to try."

"Right." Hermione swallowed. "Is there... anything you need from me?"

"Keep your cool." He checked his solid gold wristwatch, glancing at her over its face. "See you in there."

He was gone in a few long strides. Hermione breathed deep, clutching the tiny pouch around her neck. Once her waters were still, she followed the long corridor to the Muggle courtroom.

A pair of guards inspected her badge at the side entry. Once she passed their magical security charms, she was ushered into one of the seats for distinguished visitors behind the Prosecutors' tables. Hestia nodded at her from the Secretariat table, as did Fleur and Robards. The rest of the Council and Prosecution ignored her.

There was a low rumble of noise as reporters began filing into the back of the courtroom. Luca Bianchi came through the side entry a minute later and was ushered to the chair just to Hermione's right. Crossing his leg over his knee, he kept his gaze straight ahead.

He'd seen her on the list of witnesses for the Defense, of course. Just like she'd seen him on the Prosecution's list.

One of the Italian prosecutors cast a glance at her, and Hermione tried to focus on anything but her nerves. Her eyes drifted to Shrapley, arranging his notes around him with lazy movements.

"A defense counsel's worst nightmare," he'd told her two weeks ago, as he reclined on the sofa in the Manor's drawing room. "Access to the True Order's archives blocked, an elaborate procedure to admit material for the defense, the admission of hearsay, a fraction of the time for pre-trial, and a failure to sequester witnesses."

Just when Hermione had opened her mouth, he'd smiled and added, "But I'm not any defense counsel."