Trigger warning: mild torture

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Barty tossed the newly transfigured manacles into a drawer of his desk and kicked it shut, the iron chain rattling as it closed. It hadn't been easy shifting the bindings from their original form. Those evidence boxes were stubborn little bastards, but if everything went to plan, the headache would be worth it. He grinned at the empty chairs in front of him, fervent glee refusing to be denied its expression. He had initially thought it luck that the events he had been working so hard to engineer were finally coming together so flawlessly, but as more cogs slipped neatly into place of their own volition, he had arrived at one inescapable conclusion.

The Dark Lord truly was meant to rule this world. It was as though magic itself had conspired to Barty's success. From his master's naturally brilliant method of communicating a significant change in plan, to the ever-present ever-churning rumor mill of the simple-minded masses producing a nugget of invaluable gold among the usual sludge that poured from the mouths of the ignorant.

But they would see.

And they would see soon, international assistance or no.

His research had yielded plenty of valuable information, which was fortunate, considering his master's distaste for anything that was not overpowering his opponents through sheer force of will. While he doubted he would have issues with the capture of Potter's...tagalongs, there was one who could pose a problem, if the rumors were to be believed. And Barty was certainly not in the habit of leaving his master's orders to chance. Preparedness and planning made for victory, and he was ready.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

A few days prior and almost a country away, it wasn't until Wednesday that Harry finally saw his predictions come true, and the details of his personal life came to light. He had opened the door to the dorms after a particularly draining revision session with Hermione, who at every opportunity reminded him and Ron that 'O. were still coming up, no matter the state of the world right now.' He'd found Seamus and Dean sitting at the end of Dean's bed, masks of stern disapproval set firmly around contrasting mirthful eyes.

Seamus spoke first, drawing his Irish accent out heavy as he talked. "Well well, you thought you could slip one by us, didn't you, Potter."

Harry froze mid-motion, halfway bent to put his books back in his trunk. There were a lot of things he didn't tell his two friendly, if a bit loose-lipped dorm-mates, but they rarely called him 'Potter'.

"Now, we know we're not Ron or Hermione," Dean continued, Seamus nodding his agreement. "But we thought you'd at least let us join in on some celebration."

Harry narrowed his eyes, his mind racing furiously through the possibilities. If they wanted to celebrate, they certainly weren't talking about his old home life or Voldemort's resurrection.

His confusion must have shown clear because Seamus quickly provided the answer. "Your girlfriend, Harry! None of us have had much luck with the girls around here, though I suppose it's no surprise you managed it first, though I thought I at least had a fighting chance."

"You?" Dean asked, offended. "I think you meant me."

"But I'm foreign."

"Barely."

"Who told you about Fleur?" Harry asked flatly, his head swiveling as the curtains on one of the beds flung open.

Neville popped his head out from his bed, his face a picture of chagrin and misery. "I let it slip that you had met someone. I was trying to get them to join our group, but…" he trailed off, darting a glance over at the frozen pair. "But I didn't tell them who."

"Well bugger me," Seamus breathed. "Fleur Delacour…"

"How on earth did you manage that?" Dean asked, similarly stunned.

Harry was saved having to reply by the arrival of Ron, revision books and parchments stacked in a messy pile in his arms.

"You'd think the O. were tomorrow," he grumbled, dumping his cargo atop his bed.

"Ron!" Seamus shouted, pointing a finger at the confused redhead. "You didn't tell us Harry was dating Fleur Delacour!" he accused.

"What? Of course I didn't," Ron said, quickly glancing over at Harry, who could only grimace in reply.

"Some help you are," Seamus grumbled, turning his attention back to Harry. "So?"

"'So,' what?" replied Harry, his hackles rising as Seamus expertly toed the line between friendly banter and nosey gossip.

"So how is it dating a Veela?"

Harry let out a sigh as Seamus dove grinning into gossip territory.

"Listen, guys," Ron cut in, leaning against one of the posts of Harry's bed, just behind his right shoulder. "It's none of our business. No need to get jealous over it."

"Fat chance of that," Dean quipped.

"Take it from me," Ron continued, his tone surprisingly serious over the still-friendly tone of the other two. "Hermione has told me over and over about how jealousy can really get in my way." He sighed and stood up from where he was leaning with a shake of his head. "So. Many. Times." He turned to Harry, a wry, conspiratorial smile adorning his face. "So I want you to know that I am super jealous of you right now."

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at the chorus of agreement that followed, where even Neville chimed in from behind his curtains. Harry sat down on his trunk and endured the barrage of questions fired his direction by the two excited boys. The interrogation wasn't as bad as he had feared it might be, though a few of their questions were a little more...pointed...than he was comfortable with.

Though, later that evening, after he'd written his usual goodnight to Fleur, he finally allowed a private, perhaps smug smile to slide across his face. Dean and Seamus had been wrong about a lot when it came to Veela, and he'd done his best to tactfully correct them, though there was plenty that he'd kept locked deep inside; memories that only he was permitted to enjoy. What he hadn't done was let them know just how right they'd been about what it was like to kiss someone like her, and how...passionate she could be.

He rolled over onto his back as visions of her flushed cheeks, stunning blue eyes, and her glistening parted lips flashed again through his mind, dragging him willingly back to the memory of their long-awaited private time in the room of requirement.

All things considered, Seamus and Dean certainly could have taken it worse, not to mention the unintended bonus that their conversation had wrought. Both of them had agreed to join their small defense class, especially once they'd heard Harry could perform the Patronus charm. Seamus had earned himself no less than a dozen detentions with their new defense professor, and had expressed his considerable excitement to do anything to spite 'that pathetic excuse for a toad-faced witch'.

It wasn't Seamus who got held behind after their defense class the next day, however. Harry exchanged an all-too-familiar exasperated glance with Ron and Hermione as they apologetically left him alone in the classroom with Umbridge. He wasn't sure if her uncharacteristic good cheer meant this visit would be more or less irritating than usual.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she said when he approached her desk, "I do hope you are looking forward to your opportunity this weekend. I'm sure such an important invitation will carry you through the...unpleasantness of the detention you will have with me the day before."

"Yes, Professor," he answered. Every inch the understanding student she expected him to be. He couldn't afford to risk further detentions if he was going to help teach so many people.

"Very good," she answered. "The Minister has asked me to pass along another message to you. After much thought, he has recognized that it can be a daunting prospect to meet with the head of our government on your own. The Minister would be happy to show more than just yourself around the Ministry during your visit, so please feel free to bring a few friends or your guardian, should you desire."

Harry fought back a frown at the unusual olive branch that he'd been offered.

"That's very generous of the Minister," Harry replied, gathering his 'subservient student' role around him for protection. "I'll be sure to ask them."

Umbridge nodded, a gleeful glint lighting in her beady eyes. "We will be leaving my office Sunday evening at seven. While the Minister would prefer to show you the Ministry during the day while it is doing its best work, unfortunately, there are many demands on his time right now." She fumbled her uncanny smile for the barest of moments, before collecting herself. "He's offered to stay after hours for your visit, so I do hope that you will show him the appreciation he is due. Very few are offered an opportunity like yours. It is important to keep...proper company, you know."

"I understand, Professor," Harry answered dutifully, his mask of obedience sitting heavy in its well-worn grooves on his spirit.

"See that you do," she replied, shooing him away from her desk with one hand. "I will see you on Saturday for your detention. Be here just after dinner, and we will get started."

Harry bid her goodnight, and stepped from her classroom, her voice echoing menacingly behind him.

"Remember Mr. Potter, I expect punctuality."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

I will be coming with you of course. Will Hermione and Ron?

I'm not sure. I haven't talked to them yet. Hermione would probably love to go to the Ministry. Ron's probably been, considering his dad works there. Plus if you do come, I don't know if Ron is able to be around you without the cloak yet.

I see. And there is no 'if.' I will simply find some paperwork to do on my day off, and meet you in the atrium when you arrive. Madam Bones will be going with Papa and Dumbledore this weekend to help coordinate with the law enforcement branch of the ICW, so I am sure I will find something to do.

I'm not going to try to talk you out of it. Being around Fudge is always a little grating. Maybe it'll be a little more manageable if you're around.

I know what you mean. He can be rather...dismissive. He has had quite a few meetings with Madam Bones this week and barely glances at the people in our department as he storms through. I have noticed an occasional glance in my direction, but if I am being honest, it is better than what I am used to.

Harry's reply was slow coming, and Fleur was certain he was mulling over the thought of what it was like for her to work at the Ministry. His reply, however, surprised her.

People at school know about us.

It took longer than I expected. Do you know how it came about?

Neville mentioned to our dorm-mates that I have a girlfriend. I accidentally let it slip that it was you.

'Accidentally'? Are you sure?

Yes. I promise.

I know. I was joking. Do not worry. I know what I signed up for.

It'll probably get worse once the Daily Prophet hears. I'm surprised there isn't an article already.

The Prophet is notorious for being a mouthpiece of the Ministry, as I am sure you are aware. Perhaps word did reach them, but the Minister is attempting to stay in your good graces. As strange as that may be, it could be a good indication that he is willing to work fairly with you. Your support of him would help bolster his image, especially with those who knew how hard he worked to deny Dumbledore the opportunity to prove Voldemort's resurrection.

Harry was again slow to reply, and she could easily visualize the annoyed furrowing of his brow.

I don't want to mess with politics.

I know. Have you talked to Sirius? I am sure he will be more than happy to handle some of that for you. Unofficially anyway, at least until he is reinstated.

I'm going to talk to him after you and I are done.

You should do it now. The sooner he knows and can prepare, the better.

Okay.

Fleur smiled fondly at the disappointment in his heavy quill strokes.

I will talk to you again soon and see you Sunday. I know I do not have to remind you again, but I am going to do so for my own peace of mind. Be careful in your detention with that woman. I know she has what she wanted with you finally agreeing to meet the Minister, but something still feels wrong about her.

I know what you mean, and I will. Goodnight, Fleur.

Goodnight, Harry.

Harry set down his quill and pulled his two-way mirror from his pocket. He drew the curtains on his bed and cast privacy charms on each of the four sides.

"Sirius," he called into the dingy mirror. For a brief moment nothing happened, but eventually, the grime swirled around and coalesced into the scruffy grinning face of his godfather.

"Harry!" Sirius said through the mirror, his voice carrying the strange distortion that the mirror imparted. "Good timing! Look who's here!"

Harry's view of Sirius' face vanished, the mirror moving hectically around, offering him a dizzying glimpse of the kitchen, before settling on a familiar, weathered face.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, squinting into the small mirror.

"Just 'Remus' is fine, Harry," Lupin said, a smile lifting his tired features. "How have you been?"

"Not too bad," Harry replied, a small pang of longing forming in his chest for his old defense Professor. Moody had been an excellent teacher, but Lupin had been just as competent, and a little less eccentric to boot. "Oh, I finally managed the Patronus charm."

A strangled noise came from somewhere outside of the view of the mirror, and the side of Sirius' head popped into view.

"Did you really?! That's incredible!" he crowed, elbowing Lupin good-naturedly in the side. "It took ol' Moony here another five years before he got the hang of it, and he was the first of us. You're something else, Harry."

"Er...thanks," Harry replied. "Listen, I'm sorry for interrupting, but I needed to talk to you, Sirius."

"Sure," his godfather answered, some of the joviality fleeing from his face at Harry's sudden shift. "What is it?"

"I've been invited to the Ministry to meet with Fudge for a...personal tour or something. Umbridge said I could bring some friends and my guardian along with me, so I was checking to see if you were free on Sunday around seven."

Harry watched the remnants of playful fun fade from the lines of Sirius' face, replaced by firm annoyance prompting Harry to continue when his godfather didn't speak.

"I think he's been after Umbridge to get me to meet with him. She's been trying to get me to accept their offer pretty much the whole school year so far. Fleur said it's probably because he wants to be seen working with me after getting in Dumbledore's way about Voldemort's return."

Sirius nodded slowly. "That would certainly make a lot of sense. You're underage, and can't take your place in the Wizengamot yet." He let out a short chuckle. "Neither can I, for that matter. I doubt he'll try to tie you up in any major political issues. Likely just being seen with you will be the boost he needs to fully stabilize his falling popularity."

Sirius shrugged and nodded. "I can go with you. There are worse things than having the Minister of Magic owe you a favor. Who knows, with Lucius out of the way, maybe our esteemed leader needs a new puppet master."

"Sirius," came Remus' stern, disapproving voice.

"Mostly joking. Can't do anything until I'm reinstated." He glanced over to Remus, before looking back down at the mirror to Harry. "And we're on the right track for that. I'll see you at the Ministry at seven."

"Thanks, Sirius. Good to see you, Professor Lupin."

"You too, Harry," Lupin answered with a wave.

Harry vanished from the mirror and Sirius set it gently on the table.

"Thanks for coming, Remus," he said quietly, his voice somber. "I probably wouldn't have been in any state to talk to him and help him with this if you hadn't been here."

"Well," Lupin replied, affecting his most nonchalant shrug, "your floo calls are usually opened with either a threat or a joke. I can't in good conscience ignore you if you call me and just stare at me silently."

Sirius nodded, spinning the mirror on the table. "I think it'll be a little easier to avoid now. Being reinstated has always been important, but if they're already dragging him into that political cesspool...he's really going to need me."

"He'd need you regardless," Remus pointed out. "And ideally you would be doing all this for you, not someone else." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders while he absently fiddled with a hole in the front of his thin jumper. "But...I know that's not always enough."

"What a bunch of sad sacks we are," Sirius said after a moment. He rose from the table and looked down at Lupin. "Let me get you a d-er...a sandwich," he finished lamely, the word 'drink' dying on his tongue.

"Only if you make it," Lupin replied with a faint smile. "Kreacher is likely to poison me again."

Sirius laughed as he pulled some bread from a nearby cabinet. "He got in a lot of trouble for that one."

"For failing most likely," said Lupin, shaking his head.

"Yeah...probably."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry sprinted through the halls of Hogwarts, his rapid footfalls echoing down the empty corridors. He ignored an admonishment from a wandering Prefect, pushing himself harder to reach his detention on time. He'd gladly trade a few house-points to avoid serving yet another detention with Umbridge. He slowed as he approached the closed door to the defense classroom, breathing hard against a stitch in his side. He straightened after a moment's rest and knocked on the door.

"Come in." The sickly sweet voice was barely audible, but it still managed to drive a shudder up Harry's spine. He opened the door to find Umbridge standing next to a chalkboard, a single line written in white chalk.

"This evening, you will be writing lines. Come." She pointed at a desk in front of the chalkboard, a piece of parchment and quill already waiting for him. She continued lecturing as he made his way to his seat. "I have always found the older methods of remediation to be the most effective. Simply assigning detention to have the student do studying they should already be doing is not enough. How will a delinquent student internalize the punishment if it does not resemble one?"

Harry sat at the desk and looked up to see an expectant set to Umbridge's squat features.

"I don't know, Professor," he answered dutifully.

"That's because they cannot," she answered with a nod of her head. "Were it up to me, even this method would be optimized. Unfortunately, it is not up to me." She frowned for a moment before tapping the board with her wand. "Copy the line in front of you onto the parchment. If you run out of space, let me know, and I will provide you with another piece. I will inform you when your detention is over. Until then, I expect you to work, and stay silent. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. You may begin."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry shook his writing hand as he walked the halls towards Gryffindor tower, but the cramp in his wrist refused to lessen. He flexed his fingers, wincing as a muscle by his elbow gave a rather sharp protest. He rubbed at his arm all the way back to Gryffindor tower, where he found Hermione and Ron waiting for him.

"How was it?" Ron asked, looking up from a scattered mess of parchment on the table in front of them. Hermione looked up from her own, much neater pile at the sound of Ron's voice.

"I just had to write lines the whole time. It was surprisingly...normal," answered Harry. He dropped into one of the open spots next to Hermione, who shifted slightly to allow him room.

"Did she talk to you about the Ministry visit?" she asked, her brown eyes wide and excited.

"Yeah, after I was done, but nothing we didn't already know. We meet in her classroom tomorrow at a quarter till seven, and we'll floo over to the Ministry. Fudge will meet us...and he's also the best Minister we've ever had."

Ron snorted, and even Hermione couldn't manage to look completely put-out.

"Even if he isn't the best Minister we've ever had, it will be good to see what it's like at the Ministry. I'd love to see the Archivists department…" her eyes lit up with wonder, "or an Unspeakable."

"Good luck," Ron chimed in. "I don't think Dad's seen one, and he's been working there for ages."

"Even so, it would be interesting. I'm sure they can't talk about their work, but just imagining what they must see…"

"She said it'll mostly be her and the Minister showing us around. If some of the department heads are around, they'll show us their departments. We'll see where the Wizengamot meets too, and I think that was it."

Hermione nodded, as Ron's face shifted into one of conflicted musing.

"I'm torn," he said slowly. "I'm kind of upset that I can't come along since I haven't quite gotten the hang of Occlumency, but on the other hand...that sounds awful. What a waste of a Sunday evening. I'd rather be failing at the Patronus charm. At least that's some useful practice."

"Then you do just that," Hermione snapped reflexively before pausing. "Actually that's not a bad idea. Since Dumbledore wasn't here to show Harry anything this weekend, why don't you, Neville, and Luna pass along some of the things we've been working on to Dean and Seamus?"

Ron shrugged, his eyes darting over to Harry. "He's the only one that can do a Patronus. I don't know if we'd be much help."

"But you can show them all the work we've done on the stunner. You have to admit, we are all much better at it after all our practice," Hermione pointed out.

Ron slowly nodded, his agreement coming almost despite himself. "Yeah…I suppose so. I guess I wasn't planning on doing anything by myself anyway, besides maybe practice more Occlumency."

Harry offered a friendly smile, a warm wave of appreciation washing through his body. The fact that Ron would take on such a difficult personal project all on his own was...touching.

"Well, no matter what I do it'd be better than having to rub elbows with Fudge for hours," Ron said, coming to a definitive conclusion with a nod.

Hermione offered a quick grin of her own, before turning back to Harry. "Have you finished your Potions essay? I've already surpassed the required length, but I think it'll take me a little longer to get everything in there that I want to say."

"Hermione, if I have to write anything else, I think my hand might fall off."

"I bet I'll hear you writing on your little message paper tonight though," said Ron, grinning.

"I have passable off-hand writing," Harry shot back.

"Then you can work on your first draft," Hermione cut in, her bushy head already bent over her work. "I'm sure Professor Snape would love to give you a pass on this essay because you had to meet with the Minister of Magic," she added with a small smile.

"That's...a good point," said Harry, the vision of Snape's sinister glee at such an excuse coming from Harry leaving him chilled. "I'll go get my things."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

At seven o'clock on the nose, Harry and Hermione stepped out of the floo and into the surprisingly deserted atrium. Harry looked around, the giant space appearing eerie without the multitudes of people and flying papers rushing about. When he had come for his custody hearing, there had been so many people milling about that he had nearly lost track of Sebastian in the crowd, but after hours it was almost peaceful.

The floo flared again behind them. Umbridge tripped her way through, righting herself before she fell to the ground. She smoothed the front of her pink cardigan and nodded. Her head swiveled around to look at the deserted atrium, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"No-one else wanted to come with you?" she asked, turning what must have been meant to be a comforting expression on him. "That is a pity."

"Sirius should be here soon, Professor," Harry replied. "We are a little early, after all."

"I am unsurprised Mr. Black does not find punctuality to be an important attribute to possess," she said, the pretense of comfort quickly abandoned.

Harry only nodded, deciding that Fleur's inclusion would have to be a surprise, as he didn't want to hear what she'd have to say privately about Veela.

Mere moments later, Sirius stepped through another floo near to the center of the atrium, waving them over once he noticed them.

"Harry, Hermione, good to see you," he said with a smile that froze in place when he turned to Umbridge. "Madam Umbridge."

"Mr. Black," she returned, her tone just as frosty as his own. Her rictus smile fell when her eyes shifted beyond Sirius to the large statue dominating the room. Harry turned to follow her gaze, the nervous knot in his stomach loosening a little as Fleur strode around the statue, her hair flowing as she moved quickly towards the small group.

He noticed her clothes first. Rather than the comfortable baggy clothes he was used to seeing her in or the form-fitting dresses, she wore an unassuming pair of black trousers and a long-sleeved jumper. She waved as she approached, and Harry could see the glint of steel in her eyes that tore his gaze back up to her face as she approached Umbridge.

"Madam Umbridge," she said, her convincing false-smile slipping easily into place. "It is good to finally meet you."

"And you are?" Umbridge said though Harry could see the angry clenching of the woman's jaw that told him she clearly knew what she was.

"Fleur Delacour. I work in the DMLE, and I am a friend of Harry's. I had some extra work to do with Madam Bones gone, and Harry invited me along on his tour. I am appreciative of the opportunity to visit the other departments. The DMLE has been so busy since I started that I have not had the chance to see how it compares to the French Ministry."

"I think you'll find it compares even better than you might expect," Umbridge replied, frowning. "Come along. It will not do to keep the Minister waiting."

She led them across the atrium, passing in front of the statue over a large glass section of the floor that looked down into a large room deep below them.

"Mr. Black will already know this," said Umbridge, her irritated tone slipping away as she fell into her lecturing one, "but below us is the official meeting chamber for the Wizengamot. Our forefathers created it as such so that the common people the Wizengamot serve may look down upon their work and judge them appropriately. We will visit that room later, and you will be able to see the charmed ceiling, much like the one at Hogwarts."

Hermione fell behind as she stopped and stared at the statue in front of them. Golden depictions of various races stared up in wonder at a beautiful witch and wizard, water falling from their upturned wands.

She jogged up to them as they reached the elevator, a fledgling frown set upon her face.

"Do keep up, Miss Granger," Umbridge called as the doors to the elevator opened, allowing the group to cram inside. "I realize that it is tempting to marvel at the splendor of our institution, especially due to the Ministry being near to empty. Only the most dedicated people come in on Sundays, much as the Minister has done." She darted a glance over to Fleur, the unintentional compliment sitting sour upon her lips. "Thanks to the Minister's choice of time and day, you should be able to enjoy an interruption-free tour."

The rest of the ride up to the top level was quiet, though Harry took solace from the warmth of Fleur's side pressed against his, and the small, private smile she offered him when he looked up at her.

The top floor of the Ministry was much smaller than Harry had expected. Instead of a long hallway with many doors like the others they had passed on the way up, there was a short, ornate hall leading to a large set of double doors. Umbridge pushed open the gate of the elevator and strode up to the door, knocking lightly on the door.

"Come in!" Fudge's voice called from inside the room. Umbridge opened the door and ushered the group into the opulent office.

It was smaller than Harry expected, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in opulence. The wall on the left was one large bookcase, filled to the brim with books, scrolls, with various floating baubles and glowing boxes spread throughout the space. Large filing cabinets stood on the wall opposite, each drawer with a small label on the front. In the middle of the room sat a desk large enough to seat three people behind it, with two black leather chairs in front. There was a window behind the desk where the wall should have been. A massive crystal clear sheet of glass stretched from corner to corner, offering a wide view of the atrium and the top of the large statue far below them.

Behind the desk sat Fudge, the top of the desk almost completely covered in mountains of paperwork, save for a small space next to him, where his wand and bowler hat rested side by side. Alongside him, bent over examining a piece of paper was an older woman with short greying hair. Harry's head swiveled to the side when Fleur let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

"Madam Bones?" she asked, confusion pushing through her deferential tone. "I thought you went to meet with the ICW along with the Chief Warlock and...the Ambassador."

The woman looked up, fixing her steely brown gaze on Harry for a moment, before looking over to Fleur.

"I was able to finish up early and come back to catch up on some of the backlogged paperwork before tomorrow. I got stopped by the Minister before I made it back to the department though. I agreed to show you around a bit while the Minister works on all this for a bit longer," she said, gesturing to the desk in front of them.

"Yes," Fudge cut in apologetically. "Though Dumbledore and I don't always see eye to eye, he does handle quite a lot of paperwork as the Chief Warlock, and the duty falls to me while he is out on official business. I will be along shortly. I am nearly finished with this last section. Amelia, if you would?"

She nodded and gestured for the group to follow her. "We'll be going to the Wizengamot chambers first, then we'll make our way back upstairs to the various departments. It is important to see where the laws begin before we see how they are executed."

Harry turned around to follow the department head, stopping when he heard Fudge speak again.

"Ah, Dolores, Miss Delacour. If you would stay behind, I would appreciate some help. Dumbledore has mentioned your skills on a number of occasions, Miss Delacour. I hope you do not disappoint," he added with a smile.

"Of course, Minister," Fleur said with a quick, apologetic smile for Harry.

"I won't keep you long. We'll be finished momentarily," Fudge promised with another, wider smile as he pulled a paper from the large pile.

Harry, Hermione, and Sirius followed Madam Bones from the office, leaving Fleur and Umbridge inside with Fudge. The door clicked shut behind Sirius and the minister let out a small groan.

"I have been looking at these papers all day, and the words are beginning to blend together." He lifted a small stack of papers and held it out to Umbridge. "Dolores, if you would, please file these away under the Securities section of the in-house cabinet. Miss Delacour, this is your department. Would you help me with cross-referencing the new legislation verbiage to the old versions so I can finally sign this and be done with it?"

Fleur nodded and stepped around the desk. Fudge reached over and moved his bowler hat and wand out of the way, placing a large stack of papers in their place.

"What am I looking for fi-" Fleur began, but was unable to finish. She tried again, but her throat failed to produce any sound.

Her joints locked as she turned in surprise and she dropped roughly on to the desk, scattering papers across the floor, her side screaming in protest.

Umbridge let out a shrill noise of surprise as she turned, her beady eyes resting wide on Fleur, before turning to Fudge.

"M-Minister," she croaked, before clearing her throat, a monstrous professional air gathering around her. "If you need me to step out, please just say so."

Fudge stared at her for a moment, admiring the fervent loyalty shining beneath the disgusting surface. With a growl and a twist of his wand, a bright green curse sped from the tip, impacting squarely on Umbridge's chest.

Fleur saw her fall out of the corner of her eye. Horror and disbelief were captured on the older woman's face, her final moment frozen perfectly in her lifeless features.

Fleur could do nothing but stare ahead, struggling in vain against the curse while Fudge rummaged through one of the drawers on the desk. A metallic clanging rang through the air as he straightened, the object in his hand freezing her deep into her core; where her nightmares thrived.

"We won't be using ropes this time," Fudge sneered, dropping the heavy manacles down on top of the desk. He grabbed her by the shoulders, roughly lifted her with a grunt, and dropped her unceremoniously into his chair. He lifted his wand, mumbling as he waved it over a spot on the floor. A grey concrete half circle rose from beneath the carpet just in front of the chair. He stowed his wand in a pocket and grabbed the manacles clicking open one of the sides and fastening it to the floor. He grinned up at her as he opened the other side.

"It took a lot of work to figure out how we were going to capture you if you came along too. I couldn't have that nasty special fire of yours burning me up before I could get you," he said, jerking her hands forward and locking the iron around her wrists. He straightened and slid the final, larger circle around her neck. A mad cackle burst from him as small wisps of steam began to issue from beneath the edges of the cuff. "My master doesn't put much stock in learning about our enemies, but when you're a powerful wizard like him...you don't have to." He leaned forward and began fumbling around her waist and legs as he spoke. "But I don't want to fail him, and sometimes that means doing a lot of digging into things that shouldn't matter in the first place." She writhed internally, futilely, but felt none of her horror express in her features.

He finally found what he was looking for, and pulled her wand from behind her, where she'd stored it in a small sleeve at the back of her sweater.

"Half-breeds shouldn't exist," he growled, raising her wand in front of her. "And they shouldn't have wands."

The loud snap of her wand resonated in harmony with her heart; broken in front of her like a simple twig. A thin silver hair dangled from the shards, its shining silvery light faded to a dull grey, but it was only a momentary distraction from the searing pain as her skin slowly burned away beneath the iron.

"You're not going to be killed, and neither is your little 'friend,' Potter," Fudge said, stepping around the desk and towards the door. "Stay put, and we'll get that iron off of you when we're finished." He grinned again, the hatred skewing Fudge's face into an unrecognizable mask. "Don't get too worked up. The closer you are to that filthy fairy blood, the more it burns. We wouldn't want you to kill yourself by burning through your pretty little neck, now would we? The Dark Lord has plans for you both now that he's got his hands on the prophecy."

He turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Fleur raged against the body-bind curse, fear curdling her insides as her neck and wrists were slowly seared away.

She needed to scream. She needed to get free; to get the acrid smell of her burning flesh out of her nostrils. Instead, the office sat silent and still as her nightmare personified boarded an elevator, affixing the bowler hat atop his thinning hair.