"Yes."

"Objection!" Shrapley scribbled a note before he added, "Irrelevant."

"Sustained."

Pierre turned to President Ogden. "No further questions."

Shrapley stood, and Hermione's eyes flicked to him, clenching her trembling hands into fists.

"What distinguishes Stockholm Syndrome from other relationships with a power imbalance, Healer Thompson?"

Healer Thompson brushed his mustache and said, "Well, in one case, one person can't leave. They're captives to the other person."

Shrapley stared at him for a long moment before nodding and dismissing the witness.

The Prosecution rested, and court was adjourned for the day.

Neither Hestia nor Fleur approached her this time. Hermione sat quietly in her seat, burying books and organizing shelves until the courtroom was empty and the guard asked her if she needed assistance.

~*~

"There's no need to panic," Shrapley said through the Floo. "I miscalculated. It was sure to happen once in my life."

Hermione paced in front of the fireplace. "So they won't be going after my memories after all?"

"No. It seems they have decided to utilize an accusation of an obscure Muggle condition that most in the wizarding world have never heard of. Before today, anyway."

"This is preposterous." Hermione began pacing again. Shrapley was silent.

"How can I—" Her eyes closed, and she breathed deep through her nostrils. "How can I disprove this? How can I show that Draco's actions were out of genuine love for me, and mine for him?"

"Trust the evidence, Miss Granger," he said. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "The evidence is based in fact, not the medical opinions of someone who has never diagnosed you."

When Shrapley disappeared from the fireplace, she declined dinner with Narcissa, and asked the elves to bring her a Sleeping Draught. She laid in Draco's bed, thinking of the horrified way he'd stared at Giuliana with Blaise, and Penelope with Marcus. And just before she drifted, she remembered the last night she'd spent with him, when he'd silenced the words on her lips before she could tell him she loved him too.

~*~

On Thursday, she chose the best robes in her closet. She ate a few bites of toast, flipped through the paper, and then walked outside to Apparate to Edinburgh.

Her shelves were tidy and secure, and her waters were still.

The reporters pressed on her. The sound was loud in her ears and the flashes blinding.

She handed over her wand. They led her to a hallway to wait, and she stared down at her shoes. They were far too sensible, she thought. Pansy would be furious.

Pushing Pansy's book aside, she focused on the stone walls of the hallway.

They opened the doors for her, and a guard led her to the witness stand. She sat, facing the court. Pierre was leaned back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach lazily.

Shrapley stood, lifting a brow at her.

The next three hours were filled with story after story, piece after piece of the puzzle. He asked her if Draco Malfoy had ever forced sexual intercourse on her during her year at Malfoy Manor, and she replied in the negative. He directly referenced Susan Bones' testimony that Hermione had performed oral sex on Draco Malfoy in public, and she replied that Pansy Parkinson had done so in her body in order to protect her from a party centered around Marcus Flint's lust potion.