He scratched the back of his head, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "I thought of you every day of the past year, Hermione. Every minute."

"Ron, I did too—"

"I was trying to get back to you with every breath, and all the while, you were falling in love with Draco Malfoy." He fixed his gaze on her, and she couldn't breathe with the pain in her chest. "I just need time with that now."

She dragged air into her lungs as the tears fell freely. Pressing her eyes closed, she nodded to the ground.

They stayed there until the sun began sinking and the birds stopped singing, delaying the inevitable moment they needed to return to the castle and the black wall of dead names.

~*~

Hermione went through her mail on Sunday. After she disclosed Bellatrix Lestrange's fate on the stand, the Council had scheduled an emergency meeting with the Secretariat on Monday. Hermione wrote a quick reply, declining to attend and requesting a full summary. It arrived late Monday night from Hestia, and on Tuesday morning, Hermione read along with the rest of the world that Bellatrix's trial had been canceled, her husband's trial scheduled in its place.

They'd have less than a week. The Tribunal insisted that Rodolphus and his defense counsel had consented, as their pre-trial procedures were almost complete, but it didn't stop Gertie Gumley from lashing them in the Ghost.

"The fact that they moved up Rodolphus instead of Malfoy means that they're worried," Shrapley said through the Floo that afternoon. "They know about the antidote potion, and now they know about Bellatrix. I'm sure the Prosecution is running laps around Europe right now, trying to round up more witnesses."

Hermione's hands felt clammy. "That's not encouraging."

"I think it is." The smirk on Shrapley's lips could have rivaled Lucius Malfoy's. "Their case is on thin ice, and they know it."

Hermione tried to keep that in mind as she spent the next three days buried in preparations with Shrapley and his two assistants. They spent long hours in the drawing room, hammering out questions and ignoring food from the elves. By Friday, Hermione had lost all sense of modesty, handing over even her most intimate memories for Shrapley to view in Lucius's Pensieve with a practiced flick. There was no time for shame when Draco's life was on the line.

The weekend passed by in a blur, and then Monday arrived, and she was Apparating to Edinburgh for the first day of Rodolphus Lestrange's trial.

She'd written to the Prosecution Office some weeks before, offering evidence against Rodolphus, Travers, Crabbe, Sr., and Greyback. They'd declined, assuring her they had plenty of evidence, but would contact her should the situation change. She hadn't heard from them since.

Even though she wasn't testifying in Rodolphus' trial, it felt important to attend its opening and close. Whatever the papers might say, she cared about more than protecting the unfairly accused. She'd meant it when she told Draco that she'd see the guilty pay.