Hi everyone! Here's another chapter. I hope you're enjoying the story.

JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Many apologies for all mistakes in advance.


Hermione groaned softly. Her head was throbbing madly and her body was in some kind of fiery pain. Her throat was parched. There was a heavy weight on her torso. And that heavy weight was rambling whispers in her ears. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting to be bombarded by bright lights but was relieved to meet darkness. As the brunette's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she turned her head slowly to check what that weird weight was.

Her heart froze in terror.

A pale, tall woman, with curly black hair and rotting teeth, dressed in an extremely tight corset was sitting atop Hermione, hunched over, hands busy working on the brunette's arm. The woman's eyes glittered with madness and unadulterated cruelty. It was then Hermione registered the excruciating pain on her arm and she watched in horror as Bellatrix Lestrange happily carved Hermione's arm with a dagger.

"This is beautiful, isn't it, little Muddykins?" cackled the insane Death Eater in a sing-song voice, noticing Hermione had awoken. "You're such a special Mudblood, getting this big scary Death Eater to make your worthless skin pretty."

Tears streamed from Hermione's eyes. She could not move. She could not say anything. She could only watch helplessly as her eyes were locked on to the gruesome sight.

This was not real. This could not be happening again. Bellatrix was dead, and Hermione did kick the Death Eater's lifeless body once in Hogwarts' Great Hall after the battle was over. Voldemort had died. The war was over.

Where was Fleur? Why was Hermione having this nightmare? Why did Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people, had to be the one that appeared in her dreams tonight? Where were the usual annoying voices? Hermione was willing to have a night full of those insane voices just to keep the Death Eater away from her dreams.

"Aw, little Muddykins is speechless," drawled the Death Eater. She deliberately pushed the tip of the dagger deeper into Hermione's arm, increasing the intensity of the pain. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love this beautiful carving I'm gifting you."

Get away from me, Hermione wanted to scream. Get out from my dreams!

But Hermione could not even make a sound. She watched as a cackling Bellatrix ran the dagger from Hermione's wrist to the neck. The pain was blinding and the brunette wished she would black out from it. But she did not.

"It's quiet, isn't it, Muddy?" Bellatrix asked conversationally. "Everyone is chasing after your two Mudblood-loving friends. They left you, Muddykins. Left you." She giggled. "Aren't you glad I'm considerate enough to keep you company?"

So Ron and Harry left her alone with a deranged Death Eater. Hermione knew it was not real but she could not help feeling betrayed. She was crushed. Logically, she knew it was good, because Harry was safe and could continue their mission. Wait – the real logical thing was to not feel sad at all because this was just a dream.

"You're dead," Hermione managed to croak out.

Bellatrix looked into Hermione's eyes and smiled coldly. The insanity in the Death Eater's eyes was gone, replaced by calculating looks.

"Your time is coming soon," Bellatrix told her. Somehow Hermione knew that it was not actually Bellatrix who was talking. It was someone, or something else. The brunette shivered involuntarily. Bellatrix's face was merely inches from the brunette's, flashing a set of rotting teeth, voice dropped low, menacing. Her voice was split into several different voices. "When the roots dry up and the flesh drops off, we will devour you." The Death Eater started to cackle madly.

"I won't lose to you," Hermione hissed, determined. "I will find out who did this to me and I will destroy you."

"You can't even fight by yourself properly," Bellatrix sneered. "You've already lost your friends. That redhead and her husband will follow suit. You will also be the reason why your skanky girlfriend leaves you. And then, you will submit yourself to us and we will enjoy devouring your soul inch by inch."

Bellatrix stabbed the dagger into Hermione's wrist and slowly pulled it toward the shoulder. The brunette screamed in agony.

"Tick tock," the Death Eater sang softly. "Tick tock."

"Tick tock."

With a swift movement, the deranged woman pulled out the dagger and stabbed Hermione's eyes.

The brunette screamed.

Then all was black.


"You're finally awake."

Hermione jerked up, only to fall on the bed again. The speaker rushed to her side, helping to adjust her body into a more comfortable position.

"You're very weak, Hermione." The face that Hermione greatly disliked stared at the brunette with concern in her eyes. "Don't force yourself."

Hermione groaned internally. Mildred's was not the face she wanted to see after a particularly horrible nightmare.

"Fleur?" Hermione's throat was parched dry. It hurt to talk. Noticing this, Mildred Accio-ed a glass of water and helped Hermione to drink, who grudgingly accepted the aid.

"Fleur's just in the bathroom," Mildred explained, putting the glass away. "She hasn't showered in the past few days, insisting to be with you. You won't believe how stinky she is. Ugh. I had to threaten her that I won't help you unless and until she scrubs herself clean. If her fans know how disgusting that girl can be, they'll definitely disperse. Oh, wait – they'll think it is a sweet and romantic thing to stoically watch over her girlfriend without showering and barely eating anything."

As Mildred continued to ramble on, Hermione tuned out and frowned. A few days without showering? What the heck was Mildred talking about?

The brunette slowly looked around and realised she was not in her home. Judging from the furniture and the tacky painting on the wall of a duck eating an apple, Hermione guessed she was in Mildred's latest rented room. The brunette wanted to go home, to her sanctuary. With Fleur.

"What happened?" Hermione cut Mildred's rambling.

The other witch placed a palm on Hermione's forehead. "No more fever, that's always a good sign," she mumbled, to Hermione's irritation. Mildred seemed to be having different personalities every time the brunette met her. Well, just two personalities: skanky and annoying. Today the annoying side was out.

"Can you stop touching me?" growled the brunette. She tried to shrug off Mildred's palm but Hermione was too weak.

"Four nights ago, Fleur barged in with you in her arms," Mildred ignored Hermione's request. "I thought there were intruders and nearly killed you both but fortunately I was drunk enough that my reaction was slow. You were flailing about, screaming yourself hoarse, and was having high fever."

Hermione was shocked. Four nights? Her nightmare did not seem to take that long.

"Fleur told me that you were having a disagreement with a friend," continued Mildred. "That affected your mood and as a result, you were open for attacks. I did warn you both that you have to avoid any negative emotions." Hermione felt indignant at the I-told-you-so looks given by Mildred. But the witch did not give the brunette any chance to defend herself. "However, by attacking you like ravenous pigs, the soul killers lowered their guards and I was able to track the witch who sent them."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Witch?"

Mildred nodded her head. "Yes, a witch. Now, I am not telling you yet until Fleur is here. I don't want her to strangle me for telling you without her knowledge and I also need her to calm you down. Anyway, you were screaming a lot for the past few days. What did you see in your dreams?"

Hermione shuddered involuntarily. She did not want to remember her nightmares. It was bad enough to experience it once. Retelling it was worse. But a witch? The brunette crunched her eyebrows, deep in thought. Who did she anger so much to the point of willing to go through all this madness? Was it a Death Eater's wife or daughter?

Quick footsteps pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. Her face lighted up to see Fleur approaching, and a shy smile formed on the brunette's face without her realizing. Fleur kissed Hermione gently on the forehead and took the brunette's hands in hers.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" The blonde's eyes were filled with concern and worry. Exhaustion was plain evident on her face.

"See, Fleur, I told you that you were stinky," Mildred commented in an amusing tone. Hermione wanted to smack her face. Mildred did not notice this and continued, "Hermione only wakes up once your smelliness is gone."

"Fleur always smells good," Hermione defended the blonde, glaring at Mildred who raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Mildred, please stop agitating Hermione," Fleur said tiredly.

Mildred rolled her eyes. "Both of you are so touchy," she muttered. "Anyway, let's get down to business. The sooner you're both gone, the sooner I can finally sleep undisturbed. So. Fleur, I need you to make Hermione very comfortable."

Wordlessly, Fleur climbed on the bed and gathered Hermione in her arms. The brunette snuggled her head in the crook of Fleur's neck, feeling calmer. Hermione breathed in deeply, inhaling Fleur's comforting scent. Fleur's hair smelled faintly of strawberries – not her usual shampoo. It slightly irritated the brunette, knowing it was Mildred's shampoo, but it was Hermione who was in Fleur's arms, not Mildred.

"Are you comfortable, Hermione?" Fleur asked softly, gently rubbing the brunette's back.

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. She could purr of happiness. But she did not. That would be embarrassing.

"So," Hermione opened her eyes when Mildred spoke again – the witch was sitting on a chair beside Hermione's bed, "I managed to track down the witch who is the root cause of the evil. I at first did not quite believe it myself, seeing that her family is never involved in the business, but – "

"Stop rambling unnecessarily, woman," growled Fleur. "Who is it?"

Mildred rolled her eyes. "It's impolite to interrupt when someone is speaking, Fleur. But to answer your question, it's Umbridge. Dolores. Umbridge. I believe the name is familiar to you, yeah?"

Hermione was shocked. "Wait – it thought she's in Azkaban? And why the hell would she want to curse me?" After the war, Dolores Umbridge was tried and sentenced to Azkaban for crimes against Muggle-borns.

"She was just released three weeks ago," Mildred sighed. "Just because she's been in jail does not mean she can't conduct business through a proxy."

"She's out? She's not supposed to be released for at least another five years," Hermione was starting to fume, remembering the atrocities Umbridge committed in Hogwarts. Fleur tightened her embrace, preventing the brunette from getting up and marching to the Ministry.

"Just because Voldemort is gone does not mean the Ministry is suddenly clean from corruption, Hermione," Mildred said. "She's released due to 'good behaviour' and other similar crap. I wonder how rich she actually is and who did she bribe."

"Alright," Fleur cut in before Mildred started her rambling and Hermione got so worked up on the news, "so now we know the culprit is that pink thing. Can you start to return these soul killers to her so that Hermione can have a peaceful life?"

"It's not that simple, Fleur," Mildred said tiredly. "I am exhausted at the moment, my energy's drained doing the tracking as well as minimizing damage done to Hermione during her recent attack. Not only that, Hermione herself is in no condition to start the process. She is both physically and emotionally weak. She needs to regain her strength and not drowning in negative emotions. Although there's another way…"

"Which is?" Hermione asked.

"Burn Umbridge," Mildred answered simply. "Once she's burned, the connection will be broken and the soul killers will leave, returning to Umbridge's body to absorb the soul before her soul can pass on to the next destination."

"As much as I hate her, I don't want to burn people to death," Hermione shook her head. She did not want murder on her hands. "But I do want to know what her motives are," she muttered to herself. "This does not make sense. I've got nothing to do with her and vice versa. Haven't seen her for a long time. I've got no business with her even."

"Well, I can't start the cleansing process right now," yawned Mildred. "I need a couple of weeks at least to prepare and regain my strength. Although, I have a feeling it will be useless."

"What do you mean?" Fleur sounded annoyed.

"Because I don't think Umbridge is willing to leave things be and let the soul killers eat her up since it will be considered a failed mission," explained Mildred. "She will redouble her efforts and resend the soul killers again."

"Is burning her the only way?" Hermione was despaired. It was one life or another. It did not sound attractive at all.

Mildred was silent for a moment, pondering. "No, it's not," she answered slowly. "However, at the end of the day, it's either your life or hers."

Hermione frowned. Surely, there was another way that did not involve death?

"You see, as I've explained before, a soul killer will not stop until its goal is achieved," Mildred explained. "In your case, the soul killers were ordered to push you to the brink until you commit suicide. Their reward is your soul. A soul."

"Devour me," Hermione said quietly. "Devour me," she repeated, in a stronger voice. She recalled her nightmare and shivered involuntarily. "It – they – said that."

"Who said that, Hermione?" Fleur asked, worried.

Hermione looked up and met Fleur's concerned gaze. "Bellatrix said that, Fleur. I mean," the brunette took a deep breath to steady her shaking voice, "my nightmare. I had a nightmare. Last night. Or one of the nights that I was unconscious. Bellatrix was torturing me in Malfoy Manor but towards the end, she said that she – well, they – will devour me soon, that my time is nearing. They said something about roots drying up and flesh dropping off."

"When their roots dry up and your flesh drops off they will be devouring you, am I correct?" Mildred asked sharply.

Hermione turned her face toward the witch and nodded. Mildred instantly jumped off the chair and went to rummage her trunk, muttering as she did so.

"Why are you acting up, Mil?" asked Fleur.

"We can't let Hermione's flesh drops off, Fleur," Mildred answered, agitated. "This is bad. Far more advanced than I thought."

"What are you talking about?" the blonde asked.

Mildred triumphantly fished a potion out of her trunk and made Hermione drink it. The brunette wanted to retch at the foul taste.

"When soul killers are attached to you, their roots will try to get as deep to your soul – which is formed by your will to live – as possible," she explained. "The purpose is to separate your soul from your body – your flesh – before they can eat your soul or will to live. The final stroke is when your will to live is gone. That is when your flesh will drop off from your soul. Usually, as long as you still have the will to live, they cannot eat your soul. However, when soul killers are inside of you for far too long, their roots will harden and after some time dry up. When that happens, regardless of you having the will to live or not, the soul killers will forcibly devour your soul, sucking your will to live. And, considering there are more than one soul killer attached to you, it will be a horrifying death."

"Are they cousins of Dementors, by any chance?" Hermione asked calmly. Truth to be told, she was extremely terrified but did not want to worry Fleur any further. Judging by the blonde's tight grip on Hermione's arms, Fleur must be in a mixture of anger, worry, and fear.

"No," Mildred shook her head. "Dementors are created differently. They're soulless. They feed on people's happiness. But soul killers are created from a dead person's soul. They generally feed on blood."

"As much as this academic discussion is fascinating, I believe we have a far more important issue at hand," Fleur interjected before the conversation steered off too far. "I am concerned that the soul killers are starting to talk in Hermione's dreams, unlike before."

Mildred regarded Hermione for a moment before answering, "I think it's because previously, Hermione did not know of their existence. Now that Hermione knows and we're actively fighting them, they changed their strategy."

Just then there was a knock on the door. While Mildred went to answer it, Hermione took the opportunity to give Fleur a quick kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that," the brunette murmured.

"Too shy in front of Mildred?" Fleur smirked, teasing.

"Shut up," muttered the brunette. Fleur laughed and gently kissed Hermione.

"I'm glad you both are spreading your love," Mildred sounded amused. She was carrying a tray. "I've got food for us. Now, Fleur, you have to finish your food. There's no more excuse."

Hermione frowned at the blonde. "Have you not been eating properly?"

"She's been like a headless chicken in distress, emitting black smoke from her ears, on the brink of razing a village," Mildred answered before Fleur could say a word. Mildred set down the tray and Hermione saw three identical bowls of porridge. The witch continued, "She was like a feral cat. It was difficult to force her to even take a bite."

"Fleur, you can fall sick!" Hermione exclaimed. Fleur had the grace to look sheepish.

"I was just worried about you, Hermione," the blonde muttered.

"And you'll make me worried if you fall sick," replied the brunette.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I am not sick," the blonde apologised sincerely. "Look, I will finish my food but you have to finish yours too, alright? I at least did eat something for the past few days, unlike you."

"And I am the one getting sick looking at you both," muttered Mildred. "Come on, start eating."

The food was bland but Hermione had never felt so hungry before in her life. She, with the aid of Fleur, ravenously gobbled up the porridge. Mildred even offered the brunette a quarter of her portion, which Hermione accepted without a second thought.

"Mildred, how did you know I was going to be conscious today?" Hermione asked when she had finished her food. She leaned on Fleur, who was still eating. Hermione felt slightly guilty for interrupting Fleur's meal – the blonde was occupied with feeding Hermione.

Mildred shrugged. "I've always ordered for three for the past few days, just in case you wake up at any time. Besides, it won't look odd to suddenly order an extra portion. The innkeeper won't be too curious. She'll most likely assume I'm having a threesome or something."

Hermione nearly said 'as long as Fleur is not involved' but kept her mouth shut. Her dislike toward Mildred was not as intense as it was when she woke up, but the brunette was not sure whether it was due to her full and content stomach or the effects of the potion.

"Hermione, if you don't mind, I have several questions for you." Mildred pulled her chair nearer toward Hermione. "This Umbridge, do you know her well? I'm trying to figure out why she hates you so much."

Hermione's expression was grim. "When she was in Hogwarts, it was horrible," the brunette recalled. "As High Inquisitor, she passed many draconian laws. As a teacher, she was preventing us from learning anything useful. All because she was paranoid that Dumbledore was trying to take over the Ministry and she believed that Harry was seeking for attention. She also hates non-purebloods and other magical creatures."

"In Hogwarts during my fifth year, I helped Harry to get his story out by getting him an interview with a journalist. The Quibbler published the truth of what happened during the finals of the Triwizard Cup and that Voldemort had returned. Umbridge was furious, of course. She also knew I was the one helping Harry." The corner of Hermione's mouth curled a little, remembering the contorted expression on Umbridge's face. "On the last day of the OWLS test, Harry had a vision that his godfather – Sirius – was captured by Voldemort and was in the Ministry. Naturally, Harry wanted to rescue him. Umbridge caught us and, to shake her off, I claimed that Dumbledore had a secret weapon. She believed me and forced me to show it to her. Together with Harry, I led her to the Forbidden Forrest and managed to well, sort of trick the centaurs into capturing her. They released us and we went off to the Ministry for our rescue mission."

Hermione smiled sadly, remembering that was the day where Sirius died.

"So she basically hates your guts," summarised Mildred, to which Hermione nodded affirmatively. "And I presume she is a pureblood as well?"

Hermione nodded again. "She claims to be a descendant of Selwyn."

Mildred furrowed her brow, thinking. "That's an English pureblood name. Not known for their capabilities or talents in anything with dark magic though. Hmmm. The Umbridge name is not that well-known. I was quite confused at first when her name came up. Knowledge of soul killers is not what one would find anywhere easily. But, she does sound like an awful person and considering she did work in the Ministry, I'm sure she'd easily stumble upon such information."

"I will strangle her myself," Fleur muttered darkly.

"Well, you can do that soon enough," Mildred said. "Harry Potter works as an Aurror, correct? Is it possible for you to get him to locate and capture Umbridge, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. She really did not want anyone else to get involved and found out what had been happening to her.

"I need to get both you and Umbridge in the same room so that I can return the soul killers and bind them to her," explained Mildred. "As I said before, if I only return the soul killers, that foul woman would just resend them to you again. Not only that, there's also the likelihood that she'll increase the number of soul killers and I myself have no idea whether I'll be strong enough to counter many soul killers." Seeing the unhappy look on Hermione's face, Mildred continued, "I would personally go and hunt for Umbridge but unfortunately, I can't roam around out in the open freely. I have a price on my head – it's a long story. The soul killers know that we know who sent them. By now, Umbridge will know of it too and I bet you any money she's already hiding herself."

"I can get Patel & Associates to hunt for her," Fleur offered quietly.

"Don't forget, they will also figure out what's been happening to the war heroine," Mildred cautioned. "The reason why I suggested Harry Potter is because I know he's Hermione's best friend and I doubt he will blabber to the public or use the information against her."

Hermione sighed. Mildred's point was valid. But how was she to tell Harry that she had been lying to him all these time?

"Look, if you have any other ways of locating and capturing that woman, go for it," Mildred said. "What I need is to have you both in the same room, with her preferably knocked out cold so that she can't interrupt me. Also, we don't have much time. If the soul killers dared to tell you that the roots are drying up soon, then I doubt we have more than three months left. I know you'll hate to hear this but: once the roots dry up, even I can't help you."

Hermione closed her eyes. She was so tired. Three months at most. How wonderful.

"So all we need to do is to locate and grab that pink think, right?" Fleur asked.

Mildred nodded. "And also, you, Fleur, must make sure Hermione does not fall into another bout of emotional distress. Another episode of that will expedite the drying up process."

"Got it," the blonde replied. "Thanks for the help, Mil. We're getting out of your hair now. Rest up. I'll get that pink thing one way or another." She gathered Hermione in her arms and turned on the spot, Disapparating.

"Fleur, remember that time is important," Mildred called out as darkness consumed them.