A/N: Here we are again guys; I won't be giving too much away this time. If you have read Turn Time, then you know the basic back-story between Hermione and Bellatrix if you have not then I recommend you do. None the less this can be read on it's own.

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable characters and no money has been made from this, I'm just taking characters for a spin. (:

Enjoy...


Chapter One

Two years prior to court hearing…

Shoes squeaking on marble floor, he flicks a glance at his reflection in the grand water fountain. His now tamed hair and five o'clock stumble reflects back at him. He probably should shave he reasons to himself, however Ginny is still away at Quidditch and he has no reason to remove his slow growing beard. Loosening his tie, he leaves it slack around his neck as he makes his way to the lift.

A few odd looks follow him, but most have come to terms that Harry Potter the chosen one also works at the Ministry of Magic. Stepping into the lift, Harry takes hold of one of the straps preparing himself for the crazy descent to follow. As the gate slides shut, his stomach lurches as he is hurtled through the dark tunnels of the Ministry. With a gut wrenching stop he takes a breath as the gate opens and people meander in and out, he finds it ironic. How quickly the lift moves but how slow the inhabitants that use it walk. Click, they are off again screeching into the darkness with mad smiles as they all hang on for dear life and still try to remain civil and smile at one another.

"Level Nine." The operator announces mournfully.

Mustering his pride Harry strolls from the lift as though his legs are not trembling and his heart isn't pacing. Taking a deep breath he clears his lungs, he may be an Auror but he does not particularly enjoy the roller costa of a ride. Steadying himself, he begins his casual walk to the offices hidden in the depths of the ministry.

The Department of Mysteries

The words glare down at him from overhead and he shrugs of the dread that clings to him. The hall grows darker with each step, the torches flicker to a breeze that does not exist and step by step, he delves deeper. His feet clack loudly, too loudly against the stone steps. He watches his own breath as he exhales despite the twenty degrees outside; somehow, this department always manages to stay cold.

He never wanted a desk job, this he knew much more of hands on person and despite the odd piece of paper work, he gets his wish. He spends much of his time outside, patrolling, observing and standing in the biting cold. The summer not so bad to work, except for the torrential down pour of rain Harry quite enjoyed being outside. Now though as he walks through the creeping silence of the corridor glancing into the musty offices he realises he made the right choice. He would much rather freeze during the winter watching an illegal gambling than sit hidden in the depths of the Ministry.

A worker catches his eye and he diverts his attention. Why his best friend chose to take a job in Department of Mysteries is beyond him. He tried to stay clear of the department as best as possible and very rarely goes out with any Unspeakable's as protection. Ever since Sirius died, Harry did not want to set foot in the place, but fate pushed his hand. Now he visits regularly and communicates with one Unspeakable almost every day.

He finds it eerie to work in a building that has no windows, no natural air or any sunshine. His feet touch solid marble as he nears the end of his journey, the feeling of someone behind something he has grown used to over the years. He has learnt not to look, all a mind game, he's glad he can walk in and out of the department without having to go through the safety measures anymore.

He finally comes to a stop in front of a large oak door, with quick precise wrap of knuckles he knocks on the door, the sound startling him in the deathly quiet place. Stepping back, he waits for answer before stepping through into the organised office. The door shuts with a soft click behind him and he mooches over to the empty chair. An owl blinks at him from the corner of the room and he fights the urge to wave at it.

With a soft sigh, he sinks into the chair earning a glance from the only other human in the room. He does not expect a greeting he has played this game a hundred times, instead he settles into his chair taking his surroundings in before focusing on his friend slouched over her paperwork. Short rustled hair he wonders if she knows how messy her hair is but then shakes his head. Since school, Hermione Granger has always had messy hair regardless of length.

Her quill does not stop writing even when her eyes leave the paper and she reads a note to her side. He envies her for the ability to be able to write and read even with magic, he has yet to manage it. Without conscious thought his eyes travel Hermione, she seems healthy, slightly pale but to be expected working in a room with no windows. A muggle coffee machines sits in the corner chirpily puffing out smoke every so often. He marvels at his friend audacity. Not only to have a muggle contraption in the Ministry of Magic but also in one of the oldest establishments. Yet there is no shame of her roots, photos… muggle photos decorate her table and wall. The odd magazine lie untouched to the side of the room and Harry wonders how her fellow co-workers find all this muggle infestations.

Pride fills him, pride at knowing such a person, to know someone so strong. These little things are acts of her rebellious nature, ignoring the prejudice that still stalks the halls of the Ministry. To be herself and nothing else. Despite everything Hermione has gone through, she remains true to herself her roots and his proud to know such a person. Even if she is a little barmy for having such a job. A croak from the owl makes him blink and he realises his been staring at Hermione for the last five minutes.

"I know I'm beautiful Harry, but please this is a work place." She winks causing his heart to skip a beat.

He knows, she is just flirting harmlessly with him, knows she has no feelings for him. None the less, his heart still jumps and the faint blush marking his cheeks makes him embarrassed. She just laughs, before shaking her head and returning to filing her paperwork away. He loves Ginny there is no doubt of this, Ginny is the one for him, but ever since Hermione returned from travelling through time, she changed. The mousy haired golden student was gone and in its place was this fiery woman. The change took him by surprise and after a few weeks of acclimatising with one another and after she finally left St Mungo's he realised something. There was a power to her. A feeling of safety. He took one look at his friend and knew she did not need him. Not anymore. She could survive the world and probably come out top on any situation.

The realisation hurt, he is the golden boy the hero and her best friend yet he doubted Hermione Granger needed him. He mentioned it to Ginny and he learnt never again to mention it. Ginny took it all the wrong way and thought he was admitting feelings for Hermione, he could not deny his friend was good looking, but he did not love her like that. However, the conversation died and he knew not to bring it up.

"So lunch?" Hermione asks standing, she reaches into her draw and withdraws a lunch box.

"I thought we were going out?" He asks not wanting to break bread in a place crawling in death.

"Well unless you enjoy chopped up mouse yes we're going out. This is for Sphinx." She smirks as she removes the lid from the lunchbox and places it down for the owl. "What's the weather like?"

"Stuffy." Harry answers rising from his seat.

She reaches for her blazer and slips it on. He doesn't understand women. Why put a blazer on in the warm regardless of fashion.

"Magic Harry." Hermione scolds at his disapproving look.

"Why not just go with your blouse on?" He asks, surely fashion could survive a day.

"Come on, I have a meeting at three." She ignores his comment, opening her door and striding away before he can object.

They make the walk to the lift in silence, Hermione probably concentrating on her meeting for later and Harry too lost in thought to engage in conversation. If one thing stayed the same since her return to their time it was her work ethic, she remains the workaholic he knew from school. He still wonders over her travel through time, she never told them anything other than the fact she ended up in the same time as Bellatrix Black while she was still in school. Over the four years since they left school and Hermione returned from time travelling he has asked for the full story. Why did Bellatrix Lestrange come after Hermione? How did she survive? Moreover, why, why did Bellatrix just not kill Hermione?

To this day, he has yet to receive an answer. McGonagall knows, but she shares nothing and Hermione will share her secrets with no one. He also wonders when Hermione will find a cure for her parent's memory. He knows she has managed to give them fake memories but has yet to find a cure for the Oblivate spell. When she does, Hermione will become very wealthy, there are many within the Ministry that are willing to pay big money for such an antidote.

Stepping from the lift, they make their way to the exit, their favourite little café in mind they floo to Diagon Alley, the odd small talk passing between them. The compulsory chat after Ginny's health the less interesting talk about her job as an Unspeakable she is under oath to speak nothing about her work. Instead, they engage in harmful banter about his colleagues the on goings of being an Auror and how the Weasley's are doing. He insists she should visit them, the comment falls on deaf ears.

He is no idiot, Hermione has yet to visit the Weasley's household in over three years, and her last visit was for the remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts. Even Ginny does not know why Hermione finds any excuse not to visit. He asked Ron once and as helpful as ever his best friend and work colleague replied in his usual, 'I don't know mate'.

"Table for two please." Hermione requests as they enter the Stuffed Goblin.

They sit towards the front of the restaurant, Hermione taking the seat with her back to the wall and clear view of the passing shoppers. Smiling at the server, Harry takes the seat opposite; happy to have some privacy away from the other diners he asks for his usual Butterbeer and Hermione orders a cranberry juice.

They settle in Harry rolls his eyes as Hermione removes her blazer and hangs it over her chair. Two years ago during their hunt for somewhere to have lunch they stumbled across the small little alley restaurant and has become something of a regular visit for them. Flicking through the menu he knows what he wants but just checks to see if there is anything new that takes his fancy. As the server places the drinks on the table, they order a sharing platter before ordering their mains. Hermione goes for her regular Salad and crab cakes, while he orders a healthy sized burger and side of fries.

"Ron said you were thinking of redecorating." Harry states casually as the server wanders off.

After Hermione and Ron broke up four years ago, he thought that was the end of the trio, that he would not be able to spend time with both of them again. After the fiasco with Hermione, travelling through time and the attack from Bellatrix Lestrange they spent three days waiting to hear if their friend was going to die. Instead, Hermione survived and Ron chose to bury the hatchet. The trio became friends once more and everyone was happy. Then came the oddest news of all, due to their jobs and Hermione not wanting to stay in her parent's empty house on her own any longer. Ron and Hermione decided to rent together in London near the Ministry, both in easy reach of their work. Harry did not think it would work, except it did and for the last three years they have been living in the same house with only a few arguments to count. Deep down Harry wonders if this is Ron's way of being with Hermione without actually being her lover, he wondered what would happen, if she brought a date home. As it is Hermione seems less keen on dating and Ron quite happy to sit in the side lines.

"The bathroom is looking quite tired." Hermione replies, taking a sip of her cranberry juice before swirling the ice around with her straw.

"Looked fine when I was there last." Harry reasons, he did not understand the fascination of painting rooms repeatedly.

"That was four months ago and if I recall you were very drunk." Hermione smirks eyeing the passers-by out the window.

"It's fine." Harry answer dismissively. "And I am a very critical drunk."

"Yes, I remember my turkey 'tastes like a rubber leg of a griffon and my vegetables smell like Professor Sprout'."

Wincing Harry bashfully smiles at his comments on Hermione's cooking, regardless of how funny they are now he does still remember the frying pan smacking him on the back of the head.

"I was very drunk." Harry concedes.

"So drunk that you crashed your broom into my fence."

"I paid for it."

"I had to erase the muggles memory."

"I offered to do it."

"One sharing platter." A waiter interrupts resting the giant plate full of food in front of them.

Picking up his fork, he thanks the waiter before delving his fork into the battered eye of a Bolim dipping it in the offered sauce before popping the eye into his mouth. A silence settles over them as they think and chew thoughtfully sharing amused glances at one another as they bite into their food. Chewing thoughtfully on a carrot Hermione points her finger at him.

"Can you ask Ginny to stop medalling in my love life? I swear if I receive one more letter from one of her 'friends' I might crucio someone."

Choking on his food, Harry pats his chest much to the amusement of his friend. Taking a swig of his drink, he glares over the rim of his glass. "Admitting to considering the use of an unforgivable curse to an Auror is not a good idea Hermione."

"I admit nothing… I'm an Unspeakable."

The phrase makes him laugh and he concedes to attempting to stop Ginny from medalling too much in her life. They continue to laugh and discuss work, old friends, new while a waiter cleans their starters away, and their mains arrive. Taking deep bites of his burger his mind wanders and eventually the question that has haunted him since the day she returned he asks once more.

"What happened when you went back in time?"

The forkful of salad stops an inch from her open mouth and her once warm hazel eyes fill with a burning rage that passes as soon as it comes. Slowly she lowers the fork back to the plate before sitting back to regard him. This is it, he knows it he will finally get his answer, she is regarding him with too much thought to brush the topic aside.

"Why now?" She asks instead of answering. She regards him with such scrutiny he wonders when he became the one with something to hide.

"Why not?" It is childish and she will rise above it, but he hopes the answer will suffice.

It does not instead she tilts her head and he has the feeling of being prey. That any moment she will pounce and catch him out. Her eyes are scanning him from head to toe as though searching for the truth.

"What is it you're not telling me?" she settles for another question before leaning forward to capture his eyes. "Harry, what are you hiding?"

The friendliness in her voice slips away and an emotionless voice speaks out. Her Unspeakable voice and it chills him, the room feels too small and despite the window to his left – too claustrophobic. It hits him. That after all these years of wondering he has finally figured it out, finally realised what is different about her. She reminds him of Dumbledore. There is an edge to her a hidden side, rarely seen but always present. She reminds him of Voldemort. She reminds him of authority.

"There was a sighting…" Harry answers his voice squeaks slightly and he clears his throat. "Bellatrix Les… Black."

She pulls back. The atmosphere created vanishes like a breath of fresh air the clatter of a noisy restaurant breaks through their bubble, life continues around them. He blinks repeatedly as though for a second time stopped and the world stilled around them. Impossible.

"Where was this sighting?" She asks, spreading butter on her bread as though nothing had happened.

Maybe he imagined it. Perhaps he zoned out, Hermione seems unaffected not as interested in the conversation as he thought she might be. In fact she is staring at him in mild confusion and he realises he has his burger in his hand and its dripping tomato ketchup all over place.

"In your part of town." Harry answer distractedly, putting his burger down and wiping his jacket to try to remove the stain.

Tutting Hermione pulls his hand away to remove the stain with her wand. A flicker of fear fills him as she points her wand but he ignores it, he is feeling off today. Perhaps he should take a few days rest too many night shifts can do funny things to a person. Sitting back, Hermione pockets her wand before continuing with her lunch.

"Harry I live in London care to narrow it down."

"She was seen in the Kingslin Park, two blocks away from your house."

"I appreciate your concern Harry but Bellatrix won't come looking for me."

"You don't know that 'Mione, she got you before."

A warm hand encases his and he finds himself drawn to the eyes of his friend. She is smiling at him as she squeezes his hand reassuringly. How can she smile while Bellatrix Black lurks around the corner from where she lives? He needs to know.

"If Bellatrix wanted me dead, I would be." Hermione smiles sadly pulling away. "As it is, she allows me to suffer."

He sees the secrets buried deep within his friend, hopes she is not hiding from him. Trying to protect him, he had enough of that when he was at Hogwarts. He is not a child; no longer, a boy fighting in a war, he is an Auror, a man and her best friend. Her gaze never leaves the window as the waiter comes over she waves him off with an air of superiority that leaves the waiter scurrying away.

"I travelled in time, to a place so far away yet just a repeat of time passed. Voldemort was rising, Dumbledore was building an army and we all played fiddle. On my first day there, I earned Bellatrix detention it did not go down well. Dumbledore sort to find me a way home, McGonagall became my only touch with reality and Andromeda my friend. Except I could not be Hermione Granger, an alias was made I became known as Mia Rothstein, pureblood. I earned a reputation and as a result, Bellatrix became my number one enemy. We fought; we bickered, duelled and injured one another. I cannot remember a time where one of us wasn't in hospital. We hated one another, for different reasons, I resembled a challenge an enigma and she was my torturer. As you can imagine the Slytherins were the school bullies Bellatrix especially, she ruled the school. Students didn't return for their last year, she snuck into dormitories hurt students in their sleep and pulled the cruellest pranks, not even Dumbledore was safe."

Reaching for her drink Hermione pauses her recount to sip and stare lost in thought into her glass. Snapping from her daze she sweeps the room looking for someone, satisfied that no one is eavesdropping she continues with her story.

"Through hate, we learnt respect and a begrudging friendship grew. I never expected to become friends with Bellatrix, except she resembled nothing of the woman we know today. Perhaps that is why I hated her more to begin with, because I couldn't blame her. She in all aspect of the words was innocent of the crimes we know she has committed, nothing more than just a bully. Andy, Bellatrix and I grew closer together I spent Christmas at theirs. Andy knew I wasn't who I pretended to be but Bellatrix never found out and as days passed and my return to present day grew unlikely. I made other plans; I tried everything in my power to turn Bellatrix, to stop her from becoming the witch we know. It nearly worked until Dumbledore returned me to present day. I became the reason she hated Mudbloods. My betrayal spawned her hate and the reason she finally followed Voldemort. That's why I know she won't coming looking for me, because my punishment is knowing what I created."

The admission rushes over him, his mind slowly processing everything at once. Hermione became friends with Bellatrix, the woman responsible for the torture of Neville's parents, the death of Sirius and Hermione's own torture as well as countless others. He feels betrayed, hurt that Hermione willingly associated with Bellatrix after everything the witch has done.

"What about Sirius?" He demands an answer.

"It's war Harry. People die." The answer is blunt and it slaps reality to his face. "Sirius knew the risk."

He waits for the apology he knows will come.

None is forth coming though; instead, Hermione rises from her chair, shrugging into her blazer. Fishing in her pockets she retrieves gallons and drops them on the table, the meal paid for, she smiles. As she bids him goodbye and the slightest touch to the shoulder is his parting gift he sits in wonder. The door to the restaurant announces her departure and the staff clear the table around him, he realises. Hermione does not seek his approval nor does she actually want it. She did not apologise because she has nothing to ask his forgiveness for and he wonders when she changed.

~~~~~~ A Drop in the Ocean ~~~~~

It is nearing seven o'clock when she finally gets home, trotting up the steps to her house, she fishes in her pocket for her key. Struggling with her briefcase, she manages to slide the key into the lock and press the handle down. The door opens with a bang; she cringes at the noise, before hooking her foot behind the door and swinging it shut behind her.

Dropping her briefcase onto the table, she hangs her key up on the hook before following the sound of clanging in the kitchen. An obnoxious noise rings out from the living room making her cringe; she truly regrets introducing Ron to muggle TV. Their living room full of consoles, DVDs and surround sound is enough to make her hate muggle technology.

Entering the kitchen she finds Ron head buried in the fridge, Chinese take away boxes on the counter and Hermione makes her way over to her container. Collecting a fork from the counter she opens the cartoon of noodles enjoying the smell of fresh cooked chicken she smiles at her chow Mein.

"Want one?" Ron asks holding up a beer, she declines favouring a glass of wine instead. "Suit yourself. How's Harry?"

"You see him every day." Hermione replies reaching for her wine glass she uncorks the Elfish wine and pours herself a healthy glass.

"I know but how was your lunch?"

"The same as the last time, or is this your subtle way of asking if Harry told me about Bellatrix?" She asks taking a sip and leaning against the counter.

"So he told you then." Ron nods. "Don't worry 'Mione we'll catch her."

"You and Harry seem to think I fear Bellatrix. Truth is Ronald the witch has not crossed my mind in some time. She has shown no interest in me for years I don't fear her showing up any time now." He goes to object but she cuts him short. "What you watching?"

"Fast and furious… You know I'm thinking about learning to drive."

Groaning, she collects her drink, food and heads towards the stairs not wanting to subject herself to an hour of cars. She ignores Ron's attempts to get her to watch the movie instead mumbling to him about some work to finish. Her feet carry her to the landing and she heads left to her room, she pays more rent and that allows her to have the bigger room. Slipping her wand free she unlocks the charm protecting her door and slips into her room.

Placing the food and drink down, she locks the door behind her as the charms securely lock her in. No noise to leave her room, no one can enter without her knowledge, her own sanctuary. Too long she lived with those who meant her harm not to protect herself.

The sun peaks in through the blinds, with wine in hand she wanders closer to the window to look out on the streets below. She enjoys the sunset rather than sunrise the night always brings entertainment to her door. Looking to her left, she takes a couple steps to her walk in wardrobe, the unassuming wooden doors creak open and her many clothes hang tidily up in order. Except it is all a ruse, with complicated flicks of her wand she untangles her complex web of charms and unlocks the hidden door.

The clothes swish out the way and out of the depths of her wardrobe, a box slowly emerges. She steps back to the window watching the sun set as the box unlocks behind her, it grows extending into a giant board. Another day ends as her past unravels behind her and she turns to regard the fruitless efforts of four years since her torture at Bellatrix hands, four years since Bellatrix rose from the dead. Pictures decorate the board, strings link together a map made from sightings and newspaper articles.

Lifting the picture from her pocket, she places it on the centre of the board the latest picture caught of Bellatrix Black only two blocks away. Another picture of Bellatrix outside her favourite takeaway. The sea life centre Hermione visits once a year, the place where she made her first arrest. A story of Bellatrix stalking her. She does not fear the witch anymore.

She sips the deep red wine, the sun casting an amber glow behind her, she studies the streets below, in fact - she has not feared anything in a very long time.


A/N: There you have it guys the opening chapter, I will love to hear your thoughts. There will be many questions but this is somewhat of a slow burn, but if you've followed me from Turn Time then you know you're in for a ride.

Yes I struggle with my grammar guys, I know this but I have mild form of Dyslexia which is no excuse, but I try my best to check my work before posting. As it is things do slip through.