Authors Notes: Hi there! Only a short update tonight- the next chapter will make up for it I promise!!! Look for it in about 12 hours time, just wanted to make up for not updating yesterday!!! I'm hoping to update at least every 2 days or so, just to keep the flow of the story. That also depends on how much time I get for writing!!!
Hope you like and please review J And massive thanks to all the people who have reviewed- reviews make me want to keep writing *wink*
Three
Harry had expected the trials to be long, tedious and tiring, but he hadn't realised how much. By day five, they had successfully proved that three suspects had not acted of their own accord, but four had been sent back to Azkaban. The worst had been the trial of Stan Shunpike. Harry had thought he'd known Stan, even though they had only met briefly on the Knight Bus. The night that Stan was involved in the ambush as Harry left Privet Drive, he, Harry, had thought he had been bewitched. But half an hour in to the trial, Harry had to admit that he was a fool for believing that Stan could be innocent. He was the first person that they sent back to Azkaban, amidst the cries of his mother.
He was relieved when they reached the end of the five days- they were now having a five day break to prepare for round two, and Harry was starting to doubt that Kingsley had done the right thing, giving them this job. But he never expressed this to Hermione. In fact, a lot of things went unexpressed.
Not once since it happened had they discussed their kiss. They had been spending almost every hour together, including the sleeping ones once or twice when they fell asleep where they worked. Every day as they finished a trial, they would return to their office to compose a joint statement to the media on the events of the day, before heading back to Grimmauld Place for more preparation and research (it was far too hard to work in their actual offices with the media camped outside).
Their final trial, for the moment, was of Targu Thomas, the father of Dean Thomas, a former classmate. Harry remembered hearing Dean talk about not knowing if his father was magical, back when Dean was on the run with Ted Tonks and Dirk Creswell. After the trial, Harry felt that Dean's mother was best to keep his fathers identity from him. Dean's father had married his mother so that he could one day kill her and any offspring they produced, all to prove how he felt about muggles. The only reason he hadn't managed to kill them was due to Mrs Thomas seeking help from Dumbledore when Dean was born, who had arranged protection for them. It also helped that Targu had been thrown into Azkaban for attempting to kill the muggle Prime Minister. Dean had known nothing of this, until he watched the trial of his father. He looked disgusted as he left, and Harry felt sorry for him for having to sit through it.
After the courtroom emptied, he began packing his briefcase and turned to look at Hermione.
'Are we going to work tonight?' he asked. She rubbed her eyes (a now frequent habit) and looked at him. Harry realised how tired she really was- the bags under her eyes were even worse than in the third year when she had the time turner.
'I just want to sleep,' she said, though she looked disgusted at herself for admitting this weakness.
'Your place or mine?' he said and she laughed.
'My office,' she said and he looked at her strangely, wondering why she wanted to sleep in her office, before realising that she meant the daily statement needed to be done.
'You go home,' Harry said firmly. 'I can do the statement. I'll pick up some dinner and I will come to your place.'
It was a mark of how tired she was, she didn't even argue. She disapparated directly from the courtroom (they were some of the only people who could apparate in and out of any Ministry premises) and Harry headed upstairs on his own. He fought through the daily throng of media into his office, where he dashed off a quick account of Targu Thomas's trial. Using his wand, he duplicated it forty times and picked up his briefcase. As he headed out the door, he slipped the statements onto a small shelf outside his door and then picked his way through the media again, avoiding their questions.
~*~
Hermione had moved back into her parents house, the house that she grew up in. After she had modified her parents memory, she had arranged for them to leave the house in her name. It was this attention to detail that had always made Harry admire her.
He apparated to the front step and let himself in. The house was dark and he found her straight away, asleep on the lounge. He smiled at her as he tiptoed over to her. He banished the take out he was carrying to the kitchen and bending slightly, he picked her up with ease. He was very surprised at how light she was, and made a mental note to get her to eat more.
He carried her gently up the stairs and used his wand to open her bedroom door. Laying her down, he covered her with a blanket and then looked around. He had never been into her bedroom before. It was painted a very light pink, but you couldn't really see much of the paint. Shelves had been built covered three quarters of the walls, and they were stacked with books. Certificates from her muggle school were hung proudly around the bed. He hadn't really built up expectations for her bedroom, but if he had, it would have been perfect.
A spare blanket lay over the end of the bed and he picked it up and settled himself in the chair in the corner opposite the bed. He lay awake for a long time that night, watching over as she slept.