Hermione wasn't spoken to about the wards immediately.

In fact, she had been left alone to celebrate Harry's victory in securing the egg yesterday. He had tied first with Fleur Delacour, with Cedric Diggory in second, and Viktor Krum was close behind, but in third. The fact that his win was a tie did not stop Gryffindor Tower from celebrating like they had just beat Slytherin in a Quidditch match - or like they had class tomorrow. Even the twins were up and testing out a new creation of theirs called Canary Creams. After an accidental demonstration on Neville, they were selling like Pumpkin Pastries in the common room, much to the Weasley twins' delight.

Hermione rubbed her temples as she sat in the courtyard, alone. She wouldn't dare risk the library today; as much as she treasured her stolen time with Draco, she didn't want to be caught with today's read - not to mention the library promised an interruption by Krum and his fan club. There was the common room, but it was bound to be filled with another party, so she opted for the courtyard, thinking it would have been a better choice for some leisurely studying. It was not.

Her last class of the day had been Care of Magical Creatures. The fumes of the single-malt whiskey from Madame Maxime's horses wafting over to Hagrid's hut, mixed in with the cannibal Blast Ended Skrewts, and Rita-Bloody-Skeeter making an appearance had her stress concocting a headache that was impossible to beat. This was before mentioning that she was low on dreamless sleep draught. The fear of her nightmares coming back had been something she had been able to put off for a while, but with Harry's first task behind them, she started to anticipate taking her own measures. ' I might be able to ask Lucius, or Narcissa for some… although they're likely to recommend I start seeing Dr. Augsen again.' Hermione scowled at the thought. 'That woman is a cod and a liar. I won't ever forgive her for-'

"Ew, it's her ."

Hermione glanced over the disguised magazine she was reading. While she was correct about the lack of Hogwarts students being in the small, usually green space that was already starting to turn orange with autumn, she had failed to account for the Beauxbatons students and Dumstrang students that might have been strolling the premises.

She was just in time to catch two female Beauxbatons students trying to quell the volume of their male friend before glancing in Hermione's direction and descending into shameless giggles. Hermione usually would have been intrigued to see two Spaniard students attending a French school, but their snorting giggles were too closely followed by obnoxiously loud French. "Can you believe that old woman said that she was stunning in that article? Ha!"

"England's taste in women is just as bland as their food."

"At least she's not as heavy as the food they have here."

One of the Spanish teens puffed her cheeks and they all dissolved into laughter.

Hermione slammed her book shut and stared at them. They all jumped at the sound and glanced between each other. In perfectly spoken French, Hermione proceeded to lay into them. "How dare you?! You are a guest on these grounds, the least you can do is try and show some respect!" Thinking of Professor Sprout and how she expected the Professor's sweet demeanor to fall if she had seen what the students had implied, she continued with a sneer that Lucius would have been proud of. "Perhaps if any of you would have bothered to put on a coat suitable for the weather, it would melt that freezing heart of yours. Not that it would matter, as all the beauty that the three of you envy had likely been reserved to build your school that you can't help comparing to ours." Then, thinking of Harry: "Do you not realize that this is the only home that some students have? I mean, honestly. " She had been so angered that her language switch seemed to short out and she switched to English.

All three Beauxbatons students froze in their spot, and then, "We're sorry," one of the female teens said in a thick Spanish accent. "We didn't realize-"

"Didn't realize your words are offensive? Tch ." Deciding she had enough fresh air, Hermione thought it best to leave. The silence that had come over the courtyard had her glancing around to see who had witnessed her one-sided argument - only to lock eyes with Viktor Krum, who was looking a mixture of both amused, surprised, and… curious? It was difficult to discern what he was feeling when he looked pissed off all the time.

Hermione turned to gather her books to make her leave - but not too quickly. The last thing she wanted anyone here to think was that she was embarrassed or ashamed of what she had said. 'You would think a school that had a little diversity would be open-minded and less cruel-'

An arm clothed in red reached for her small stack of books and she was hit with a salty, yet masculine scent, despite the fact that her nose was almost too cold to smell anything. "Let me help you," Krum said as he picked up the last book in the stack.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him she was fine and didn't need his help, but it occurred to her that this could easily be something petty to rub in the Beauxbatons' students faces. Hermione was socially inept more times than not if there was some pressure she was under, but she wasn't an idiot. "Thank you." The words felt odd tumbling from her lips as she really bought into the fae views on it, but she knew she would have seemed rude to Krum if she had abstained from saying it.

"No need. Anything for someone as beautiful as you." He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. Along with her not being an idiot, she wasn't blind either.

Hermione ducked her head and hoped her curtain of curls hid the blush that the cold wind was not helping with. She walked ahead of him, this time in a rush, but his athletic legs easily caught up to her hurried stride.

He patiently waited to speak again until their feet were off of the grass and on to the ancient stone of the castle again. "You were not in the library today."

Hermione glanced at him and felt as if she might have been seeing him for the first time. It could have been due to the fact that it was the first time they were talking outside of the library where she wasn't neck deep in research, therefore not immediately annoyed by him. Perhaps it may have been due to the fact that the first task was over and she felt compelled now more than ever to act on what she spoke of often, which was peace between everyone.

Or, if the heat in his cheeks were anything to go by, it could have been due to the fact that he was wearing his red uniform again, a colour she had discovered she liked a lot on her crushes.

' No. No, no. I do not fancy Krum and I definitely don't like Ron as anything more than a friend. Plus, Krum is probably just trying to cozy up to me because of Harry,' Hermione regarded him once more and his face was open, despite his naturally stern features. 'Or because I helped him that one day.' She hugged the magazine closer to her chest, mulling over the article that had caught her eye before she started yelling at foreign students.

While she thought Harry needed to find out what the screeching of the golden egg meant, the next task was a few months away. Hermione had not just taken the weekend off of tournament-related studying, she had also taken Lee and Angelina's advice on educating herself on hair, specifically ethnic hair. She was floored with how hard it was to find information on it, and wondered if curly haired hair care had to be passed down from ancestor to ancestor due to lack of documentation. Hermione had even resorted to asking Lavender for beauty magazines to locate any information she could.

Of course, she found a bit more information on the care of curls this way, some of the higher-end Muggle magazines would print psychology-based studies, albeit centered around beauty. One study in particular that had her feeling a little insecure and pessimistic around Krum at the moment, was one conducted on what was called 'pretty privilege.'

The more she gave into her mental spiral, the more she realized that this year, others had treated her much better than they ever had before. Her hair was much more tamed to the point she had to fight off Lavender from trying to pet it earlier - and her teeth. She sucked in her lips, feeling more guilt than ever for having them at a normal size. The change in how much better she was treated had been noticeable, but now that she had a word for what it might be, she hated it.

Did people only want to be friends with her now because she was a pretty type of plain? Was Draco being more flirtatious now because of it?

"Forgive me if I was invading your privacy." The area between Krum's dark brows had creased, showing concern that he may have offended her to the point she was outright ignoring him now.

"Oh, no!" She tucked a curl behind her ear, abashed at how she spaced out in front of a stranger. "I was just thinking of - of something."

He gave a bit of a soft grunt and nodded his understanding. Hermione couldn't help but notice that his broad shoulders and muscled chest gave him the appearance of intimidating, but he had a bit of a waddle to him. She wondered if he was completely comfortable in his own skin. "Do you like Quidditch?"

Hermione tilted her head in thought, her cynical side automatically wondering if that was all he was able to talk about considering training and playing was probably all he had time for outside of his studies. "I'm not the biggest fan, but... I was at the World Cup this Summer. I think you choosing to end the game on your own terms was brilliant."

"Ah, that is where I recognize you from!" He flashed her another smile, this one was not quite so... shy. Hermione couldn't help smiling back, despite his enthusiasm being about Quidditch. It quickly faded into something much more serious. "I hope you had left before those-" he stopped himself short on what he was going to say out of respect for Hermione, and cleared his throat before continuing, his accent even more thick with his anger. "Wizards had ruined the night."

"I didn't… but we were okay." His concern was charming, but Hermione was distracted by something else entirely: Krum didn't know her. Specifically, he didn't know that her parents had been brutally murdered less than two years ago, and he had enough interest to talk to her. Her brown eyes searched his face, something akin to hope blooming when she saw no pity in his demeanor at all. It was quite the opposite to how she felt when people were able to pinpoint her face out of The Daily Prophet , like the ticket master at the World Cup.

"You don't follow me around."

Her smile faltered and the flame of hope dwindled. 'Did I misinterpret that he didn't like being followed around?' "Did you want me to?"

She must have had a lambaste expression on her face as he held up the hand not holding the books as if he was surrendering. "No! I am sorry, I just meant it as-"

"Miss Granger, there you are!" McGonagall had emerged from the hallway, catching them both off-guard. Despite the heightened tone of her voice, Hermione did not detect anything for her to be worried about just yet. "Mr. Krum," her Professor acknowledged with a polite smile. When she turned her attention back to Hermione, her hands were clasped together. "I am happy to see you are making new friends, but Dumbledore is requesting your presence in his office."

"Oh." Hermione jumped to what had happened yesterday at the first task. Did they know that she had tried to meddle? Would she be expelled just for an attempt at interference? ' They wouldn't be able to tell… Would they? ' But she couldn't fight off the sense of foreboding filling her.

There was no way out of it, and after Krum handed her back the books he was carrying, and she was left to follow her Head of House, she wished she was brave enough to summon a broom and escape.

Before Hermione's knuckles could knock on the aged wood of the Headmaster's office, she heard Dumbledore call out to her. "Come in, Miss Granger." Dumbledore didn't yell, although from time to time he did speak sternly - as he did now.

Hermione's dread worsened as she gently pushed open the door to see she would not be alone with the Headmaster, as Alastor Moody, Barty Crouch, and Ludo Bagman were present. The portraits of former Hogwarts headmasters tried not to stir too much, but she could feel how excited they were.

Hermione tilted her chin in the air, arming herself for the conversation that was to be had. Out of the corner of her eye, Professor Moody took a drink from his flask. Dumbledore was the only one seated.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger. Please, come sit down."

As Hermione walked the length of the office to take a seat before him, she contemplated if she would actually sit. She had read in one of Narcissa's etiquette books it would be considered a power move (something a young debutant such as herself should not do) - but would it be too defiant?

In the end, she took a seat and folded her hands in her lap. She thought it better to hear why she was called to Dumbledore's office instead of assuming the worst. "You sent for me?" Hermione wished that McGonagall had followed her in, if only to buy into an illusion that she was a comfort, but she had left her at the Eagle statue with nothing more than a nod and a grave look by way of a farewell.

"How did you remove it?" Crouch looked as he had in the dark forest outside of the Quidditch Cup, his face pinched and mustache twitching with accusations that were barred by the faint line that was his lips.

"I di- I don't know what you're talking about."

She hoped in vain no one caught her slip up, but Moody was already making his way to her side of Dumbledore's desk before she finished the sentence. "Go on! Spit out what you started to say!"

"Alastor," Dumbledore gave the Professor a look over the steepled fingers. A moment later, Professor Moody walked away from Hermione, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was watching her with his magical eye.

"Now Hermione, I have a very important question to ask you," Dumbledore smiled at her, and instead of explaining why she was summoned into his office, he picked up a bowl near him and held it out in offering to her. Peering inside of it, she could see pink and orange gummies that were coated with sugar crystals. "Peardrop?" he asked with a kind smile.

"No thank you, sir. I would like to know why I'm needing to talk with the four of you." Mentally she winced, not meaning to sound so short, but Dumbledore's twinkle didn't dim. Moody shifted his weight in the corner of her eye.

Dumbledore slowly leaned back into his chair and set the bowl to the side, but still close enough to Hermione that she may take a sweet if she so desired. "Did you happen to notice the markings on the banister yesterday?"

Hermione's heart rate quickened and she felt the adrenaline alter her senses. Her ears tuned into Crouch's heavy breathing and she glanced over at Bagman twice as he kept fidgeting in his marigold robes. She dug her nails into the soft skin of her palms and her mouth felt thick with excess saliva. "I did."

"A keen eye is very good." He tapped the tips of his fingers together, looking almost lost in thought. "Would you say you have an affinity for wards, Hermione?"

"I don't know much about wards, sir."

Crouch took a step forward and past the frenzied look he held, she noticed the dark bags beneath his eyes. "Runes and sigils, then. It wouldn't be wise for you to play naive, girl."

'Girl?' Hermione's jaw clenched as her eyes flicked over Crouch's person.

Dumbledore held up a hand and Hermione wondered if the men might have been arguing about her prior to her entrance. She looked over them once more and carefully studied each wizard this time. Dumbledore looked as passive as ever, Moody had both eyes trained intently on Crouch and Bagman was practically hiding in the shadow, looking at his pocket watch as he tapped a thumb against the deflated coin purse at his side.

"Barty, please. She is my student." Dumbledore didn't speak again until Crouch had rejoined a jittery Bagman in the shadows. "Would you say you had a bit of an affinity for these types of magic?

If Hermione had swallowed the Gordian Knot, it would have been burned to a crisp with the anger she felt inside - and she was careful to keep it inside. 'I did nothing wrong! He has no right to talk to me like that. The ward was already gone when I had tried - no. I can't say that. Can I? Would they believe me?'

"I like to think I am knowledgeable… but that is just wishful thinking, sir." Her words were carefully hand-picked and she made a point to keep her eyes on Dumbledore as he spoke.

Moody snorted and her eyes flicked to her Professor, before quickly returning to her Headmaster. ' Could I win an argument against Moody? It's more than just my Professor - but an old friend of Dumbledore's according to Mr. Wealsey.'

"Then perhaps… you would have been inclined to alter the wards at the first task?"

"I- no, sir." She swallowed thickly. She closed her eyes and took a moment to mentally count down from ten, diffusing her anger as much as she could manage. "Harry told me that he had to do the task alone-" Bagman actually grabbed Barty's shoulder when the elder started toward her again. ' I can't tell Dumbledore the truth, not while he's here.' "So I hardly understand what you're attempting to accuse me of." Then in an afterthought, she added, "sir."

"You see, Barty," Dumbledore turned in his seat to look at the Ministry Official. "Hermione, aside from a rather humorous prank that she orchestrated earlier in the year against the Slytherin house-" a small glint flashed briefly in Dumbledore's eyes- "has never given us a reason to question her behaviour. The opposite, actually, if my sources happen to be correct; she is working on a House Elf emancipation."

"That is exactly" -Moody proclaimed as he loudly limped over to her side- "what someone who altered the wards in the first task would say! We saw you mess with the Age Line after one day of work, a single ward would do nothing to let in a broom!"

Hermione was ready to sully his name by pointing out that he was the one to tell Harry to summon a broom, but a realization came to her before her mouth could produce words:

Crouch already did not like her or the Malfoys, Bagman seemed to avoid students as if they were the plague, and Professor Moody knew what she was capable of being one of her instructors. All of them had witnessed what she did to the Age Line and there was no doubt in her mind that they all had a subscription to The Daily Prophet.

To Rita- Bloody -Skeeter.

'Tattling on Moody would only get me in trouble as well, as I had said I never spoke of the tasks with Harry. Oh, what would Narcissa do? Or Lucius? What would he say?' Hermione felt as if she had just spun the time-turner, the gold wheels spinning along with her mind, and then-

It stopped. 'What would Draco do?'

She slid her eyes over to Crouch who was whispering with Bagman. "If you're going to continue to question me, I want Narcissa and Lucius present." She held an iron grip on the chair she was sitting in, and when the room fell silent, it took everything in her not to break it.

"Ah, well, you're technically in Dumbledore's care-" Bagman started, but Hermione refused to budge.

"He's not even my head of house." She channeled the walls she often held up in her mind and attempted to will them to her face like the stoic Malfoys she wished to be by her side. "With all due respect, sir." When Dumbledore waved a hand, she then kept her gaze on him as she reiterated her demand. "I want my guardians."

Hermione heard the clack of his cane before his drawing voice filled the room.

"What is this I hear about Barty Crouch senior , questioning my daughter without my wife and I being present?"

Hermione was afraid that Lucius had come alone, but when she looked over her shoulder, she was relieved to see Narcissa was standing beside him. Forever the image of a true queen.

"Lucius, Narcissa. It's been a few years, hasn't it?" Dumbledore clapped once and the other chair that had been by Hermione's side split into two.

Without permission, Narcissa delicately took the seat beside Hermione. The older woman put one hand on the arm of Hermione's chair and the other on the back of her neck. "Are you alright, dear?"

Hermione recognized the extra amount of affection to be a bit of a show, but she needed every bit of help she could get for her to no longer be suspected of tampering with Ministry wards. Harry and Ron might've teased her about it, but she would have happily chosen death rather than do something that would not just have her expelled from Hogwarts - or from being torn apart from magic entirely. She had always felt like an outsider - still felt like an outsider half of the time - but while she loved her muggle roots, she couldn't deny how extraordinary the ability to perform magic helped with coping with her insecurities.

It made her feel special.

"I'm fine. Just… shaken." When she pointily glanced over at Crouch, she realized that Lucius had yet to sit. When he started to speak, though, it dawned on her that he had no intention to. 'Good.'

"I ought to make a complaint with the Wizgamont."

"And yet you haven't-"

"It is because I recognize that the Ministry as a whole is, ah, shall we say, going through a bit of an adjustment period still? I rather not bother them with such meddlesome things we can handle on our own. Wouldn't you, Dumbledore?" Lucius tilted his head to the side. Usually this made one seem as if they were a naive crup, hearing a curious sound for the first time. With Lucius though, Hermione imagined he was a werewolf, calculating how many bites he could get out of his prey. She shivered as she imagined Lupin in his werewolf form, but with silver eyes instead of gold. Narcissa moved her hand from Hermione's neck to the shoulder farthest from her to pull the teen close. "Tell me, how is the search for Charity Burbage going, Crouch?"

Both Crouch and Moody reacted to the challenge, but it was Dumbledore who spoke next. Hermione did not miss how adults often seemed to move around Dumbledore - she never had as it was such a peculiar thing. It was subtle, and it seemed his aire never had an effect on children, but he was like a king on a chessboard.

All pawns moved when he said they could.

"Are you aware of how talented Hermione is?"

"It's hard to miss," Lucius' reply was curt and swift. His grace, rather than the compliment itself, had Hermione's lips curving upward on one side. "And yet, I doubt the Ministry Officials who have gathered here today, are here to recognize her outstanding efforts as 'The Brightest Witch of Her Age.'" Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly at that. "I'm sorry," he said in such a way that was not at all contrite. "Were you under the impression I am not very involved in her life?"

"You've always been a dedicated man, Lucius." Dumbledore said with a small smile, yet the twinkle was completely gone from his eyes. "Slytherin prefect of 1969 andHead boy in 1971 if my memory serves correct."

Hermione practically heard the slow blink Lucius made as he peered down his sharp nose at Dumbledore. "Having a hard time keeping up with current events, Dumbledore? I've accomplished much more in the years since I graduated Hogwarts."

"Of course, like marrying the wonderful Head Girl of 1972 or becoming a part of someone's inner circle." The room went silent after that, even the portraits seemed to pause. The only sound heard was Moody trying to discreetly drink from his flask in the corner he occupied.

"Flattery will get you nowhere with us, Dumbledore." Once Narcissa made her interference, everyone in the room seemed to breathe again.

"Enough!" Moody barked. He practically growled a second time as he made his way to Dumbledore's side and Hermione felt Narcissa's hand squeeze her shoulder. When Hermione looked up at the Malfoy matron, she looked - for lack of a better word - murderous as she eyed Moody's every move. "Miss Granger interfered with the Ministry's first task! She ought to be kicked out of Hogwarts-"

"I beg your pardon-" A baffled Lucius tried to interrupt, but Moody spoke over him.

"I saw her in the tent with the Potter boy, Dumbledore - or does my word against a child mean nothing to you? She has effectively fought off-" Moody pointedly glanced at Crouch and Bagman, catching himself before revealing that the Imperious was being cast freely at Hogwarts. "She's fought or altered terrible curses - something only seasoned aurors might be able to accomplish."

"And we all saw how she dismantled the Age Line." Crouch cut in. Bagman watched the volleying arguments with a look of unease. "It would have been too easy for her to take down a single ward."

" Nearly , dismantle." The Headmaster also sounded annoyed having to give the reminder once more. "Hermione," Dumbledore acknowledging her presence again had Narcissa's protective hold loosening. Hermione could feel the blood flowing freely in her arm and it started to ache. "Have you had any successful attempts with wandless magic? And I do mean aside from using runes and sigils yourself."

"No, sir. I have not." As soon as the words left her lips, Hermione felt a cool pressure against her mental walls. She focused her efforts on fortifying them, not just to keep her surprise hidden, but to strengthen them as her summer in the maze and the memories of her wanting to remove the ward were called to the forefront of her consciousness.

Dumbledore was a legilimens.

There was no mistaking it. The mental probing of a legilimens was a unique feeling, one that she never forgot after she felt it for the first time over the summer. With Mrs. Zabini, it had felt like she was using the back of her fingers in Hermione's mind, as if she was trying to push open a curtain to find out more about Hermione's relationship with her son. With Dumbledore, it was as if he was attempting to pull apart the pages of a stuck book. His knobby hands were prying, but not causing her any undue harm.

She was thankful when Dumbledore finally stopped. Hermione was unsure if she should say anything about what he had just tried to do. She considered taking down her walls to see if screaming out at him about how violated he had just made her feel, but it was too much of a risk. Already, she knew the heat was about to be taken off of her.

"There you have it, Crouch - Moody. There is no reason for Hermione to be expelled."

Hermione took a deep breath when the relief washed through her, only leaving absolute horror in its wake from the position she had just been in. "There is someone who is actually trying to kill Harry and it's not me!" The only person who acted as if she was heard was Narcissa, who only pulled her back by the shoulder she still clung on to.

"But I saw her!" Moody's eye started to whirl in his head, he was so angry. "She had snuck into the Champion's tent - something that old rascal Filch failed to catch!"

"Is it a crime to wish a dear friend luck, now?" Lucius inquired.

Hermione saw several things happen at once when he spoke. First, it was how he changed his stance: Before, he had been the definition of offense , but now, he had one hand holding his cane to the side, while the other rested just above his hip, framing the velvet coin bag hanging below it. His rhetorical question wasn't framed to Moody, or even Dumbledore, but to Bagman.

Bagman, who she noticed had the familiar tics of a gambler.

Bagman, who had been almost quiet since Hermione had arrived.

Bagman, who - if Hermione guessed right - still had yet to pay the twins their winnings.

The next thing she saw was the retired Quidditch Player's serious act dropped as if it was dead weight. "Well, there you have it! She's innocent! Honestly, Barty, I enjoy how involved you are attempting to be with the Tournament, but she's just a child."

' Checkmate.'

Everyone's eyes seemed to fall on Moody, as they expected another objection, but he gave none other than, "this is a mistake" before seeing himself out.

Bagman gave a very loud clap. "Now that that's done, I think we ought to head out. Don't you think, Barty?" Crouch took a moment, but he ended up nodding his agreement. Hermione watched them leave, peering over Narcissa's shoulder with a frown on her face.

After the door clicked shut, the room was left in resigned silence. Of course, it was Dumbledore who spoke next. "I can't believe I forgot to offer you tea." Dumbledore waved a hand and a simple, silver tea set appeared.

"We're not in the business of drinking swill, thank you."

"Very well." Dumbledore said, completely unbothered by Lucius' curtness. "Would you like a cup, Hermione?"

"She will be joining us on our walk to the gates, or would you have her expelled for that, too?"

Dumbledore didn't bother looking up as he pushed his half moon glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "Would you not like to use the floo?"

"We weren't authorized to use the floo coming in for Circe knows what reason, so I hardly see why we can't leave the same way."

Dumbledore paused as he contemplated Lucius' proud words, and Hermione wondered if Dumbledore was actually wanting to talk to her in private. "I suppose that would be just fine."

Lucius and Narcissa started towards the office's door, but Hermione sat there a moment before getting to her feet. An entire range of emotions filled her, and most prominent of those were relief, anger, and betrayal. "Thank you for speaking on my behalf, but I really think this effort should have gone into who put Harry's name into the goblet."

When Dumbledore's eyes fell on hers, she expected him to try legilimency on her again. She wasn't scared of him, a part of her actually wanted to stay , but she thought it was wise to exit with the Malfoys instead. With the new light that had been shed on Dumbledore, there were a lot of new questions she wanted answers too. Instead, they just stared at each other, until Lucius called for her.

"Hermione, we mustn't dawdle."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the office, leaving Dumbledore to contemplate what kinds of magic Hermione did know about.

Hermione wasn't surprised with how desolate the hallways were as it was nearly time for dinner. "Tell me, how is Draco faring?"

Hermione glanced up at Lucius, expecting to still see his hard mask in place, but he looked more at ease than he often appeared, even when at the Manor. She almost wanted to use the word 'approachable' to describe him. "He's been doing well." She thought about adding some comfort, like 'he'll come around sometime,' or 'he's just being stubborn,' but she recalled the last conversation she and Draco had about him writing to Lucius. If she had given Draco her loyalty then on not speaking to his abuser, she would keep it now. Needless to say, if she got into a row with Lucius, there would be no hesitation where he could stick his cane, and that wouldn't be very appreciative of her. "You paid off Bagman to help me today, didn't you?"

Neither Malfoy replied, and Hermione thought that she would never get an answer, until Lucius spoke again. "He owled us yesterday after Moody had approached him, Dumbledore, and Crouch. Gold is something Bagman wanted, and I happened to have a bit of extra gold lying around."

"Then you knew I would ask for you?"

"Oh no, I think I would be a seer if I had the foresight for that." Lucius had an easy grin on his face. "Ludo was supposed to propose we be contacted. I will admit that it worked out much better this way."

Hermione mulled that over that as they walked and came to the conclusion that money really had too much power in the wizarding world.

They were silent again until they had reached the front entrance of Hogwarts that led to Hogsmeade. "You mentioned that you believe someone is trying to kill Harry?"

Hermione looked up at Narcissa's large eyes. Eyes that were too familiar of a blue, although Hermione could hardly pinpoint why. "Yes."

Narcissa felt pity fill her. "Would you like to talk to Dr. Augsen about it?" She knew all too well how Hermione had felt about the tournament and had gone as far as to ask that she and Lucius offer any information about the new regulations the Ministry put in place. Lucius took it upon himself to do the research - meaning he would also attempt to find any loopholes for Hermione to utilize - so Narcissa could focus on the Orphanage. He had not found any.

Hermione's eyes went flat at the thinly veiled suggestion. "No." Hermione focused on the dirt path ahead of them and Narcissa considered that the conversation might have ended there, but Hermione turned to ask Lucius a question instead. "What do you know about Oswald Fudge?"

Lucius' eyebrows raised and his eyes landed on Narcissa. She could already hear the conversation that would undoubtedly be taking place once they were off Hogwarts grounds; it would be another discussion on if he should be sticking his nose where it did not belong.

"I know he is the son of the late former Minister." Hermione waited, hoping he would provide more information, but all he tacked on while she waited expectantly was: "He works at St. Mungo's but he was at the Ministry often enough."

"I've read that he's… a bit of an experimentalist and often campaigns to get grants from the Wizgamont," Hermione offered as an attempt to bait Lucius to expand on what he knew.

Lucius, however, was like a sealed vault. Narcissa knew it was possibly due to her influence that he was providing so little information rather than speaking about Oswald freely. She believed that if he murdered his parents, it was not their job to go poking about. Lucius argued that it might give them leverage - something he believed there was never enough of. He was intrigued by the theory that no one else seemed to have about the surviving Fudge, that at one point, Narcissa nearly hexed him when he mentioned possibly asking Andromeda what her experiences were when working with Oswald. The idea that someone had murdered their own parents was too close to home.

"Why the sudden interest, Hermione?" Narcissa kept her voice sweet. It was a struggle after seeing not just Dumbledore, but Alastor Moody after so long. ' His eye - and I'm the one that the Ministry calls barbaric!'

Hermione ran ahead of them before turning around and stopping, causing them to stop. "You have to believe me."

"Of course we will."

"Out with it." Lucius said at the same time Narcissa spoke.

Hermione nervously glanced between the two of them before pulling herself together. ' This is literally life or death, I have to tell them.' "I think that he did it. I think Fudge murdered his own parents, but... I think he might've arranged for Harry's name being put in the Goblet of Fire."

To her relief, neither Malfoy laughed.

Much to Hermione's chagrin though, only Lucius seemed to have received her guess well. Narcissa said nothing, but did purse her lips before she took great care in straightening the jewelry on her wrists. "I fail to see the correlation, Hermione. Those are serious accusations you're making."

"I know." Hermione wrung her hands as she glanced between the two. "And maybe I am jumping to conclusions, but-"

"You absolutely are." Narcissa's voice was like ice. It caught Lucius so off guard to hear her taking that tone with Hermione, that he found himself leaning away from his wife. "It's not very nice to say such things about people, just because you know so little about them. You have been acting out lately and while I hardly care if you interfered-"

Hermione was nearly speechless, she had expected their reactions to be reversed. Trying to argue with Narcissa wasn't something she was prepared for. "I never got the chance!" Hermione didn't mean to yell, she really didn't, and she regretted her words as soon as she finished.

Offending Narcissa was something that just was not done, even Draco made sure to take extra care with her.

Narcissa forgot herself for a second in her anger and her past trauma. " You do not interrupt me when I am talking, Hermione, nor do you ever take that tone with me." She walked slowly towards the girl, and Hermione - bravery be damned - took several steps back. "Do you even have any evidence to back your claim?"

"No, I-"

"I didn't think so." Hermione's jaw audibly snapped shut. "I hate to say it, but you've been acting out of bounds as of late, and it's been worrisome."

"But, I- he-" She couldn't help stammering, as she was so flustered. The more she tried to force words out, the harder it became.

" What , Hermione? Use your words!"

Hermione felt it, on the tip of her tongue: ' He killed my parents and he's probably planned on getting to me through Harry!' and then she felt herself swallow every word, every syllable as guilt seeped into her with Narcissa's stare. ' I shouldn't have said anything. I've been a rotten kid, haven't I? ' Her wet eyes drifted from Narcissa's tight features to Lucius' concerned ones. 'I dragged them out here because I couldn't handle simple questions myself. Oh God, what would my parents think? Was McGonagall right? Have I been taking out my grief on others? '

"Perhaps we should go." Lucius was at Narcissa's side now with a hand placed beneath her forearm. For once, he had his eyes cast on the ground, not looking at either of them. "Dumbledore won't be too pleased if we overstay our welcome."

Hermione couldn't stand there another minute as they walked off. She ran.

When Narcissa turned to call out to her, Lucius grabbed her hand to stop her. Crestfallen wasn't a strong enough word to describe the regret on her fair face. Although she already knew, and he wasn't one to talk, Lucius said it anyway.

"It wasn't right to take it out on her."

"You have one meeting with Andromeda on parental advice and you think you know everything." Despite the context of her words, they held no bite. Narcissa only sounded defeated. The crumbling look she had only intensified when she stared off worriedly in the direction Hermione had run off to. "I know that… You know how I get with that man and Bella… Or anyone really in that office."

Lucius paused, but decided she should hear what was on him mind anyway. "Andromeda would remind us not to take out our past on the children, especially those of us who have the same temperament as the Fae."

A huff and Narcissa set out on the trail again without him. It didn't bother him. After having his first, very enlightening session with Andromeda, he realized that his wife had been working on being a better person long before he had. Her anger was even more formidable than Bellatrix's and he realized that keeping a hold on that constant, burning rage was not easy.

As he followed her though, his mind drifted back to Alastor Moody. He found it was a shame Narcissa was never able to exact revenge on him for what he did to Bellatrix, especially when she was forced to face him like she had today.

Somewhere off the coast of the North Sea, in an execrable Azkaban cell sits a woman, pulling at her hair.

"Just straighten it, 'Cissy!" she hisses quietly. "Hurry! If they hear us, they'll come for us."

Bellatrix Lestrange rocks back and forth as she conjured up the bits and pieces of a memory that's almost been completely stolen from her. She doesn't mind that though, not anymore. In fact, it's turned into a bit of a game: She conjures her happy memories to the best of her abilities, and she times how long it takes for them to reach her cell. The fun part is trying to lock the memories inside of her occlumency walls before they reach her cell. It was the only thing she could do for entertainment anymore as the ironclad gauntlets that were slapped on to her forearms hardly restricted her movements.

It brings her joy to watch the Dementors float angrily before her door, missing their chance at a crumbling snack.

When they take too long for her liking, as they often do with frayed and faded memories, she has to act them out. "Just straighten my hair, I don't care what mum and dad say!" She was almost set too deep in her staged, maniacal laughter, that she almost missed sight of the rat skittering along the far wall of her cell. Her laughter stopped short and she moved on all fours towards it, watching the rare treat intensely with her remaining eye.

Her stomach rumbled with excitement at another meal. The rat didn't move as she came towards it and she wanted to scream her victory - until the most peculiar thing happened and it transformed into a man.

An old colleague of sorts, who was now missing a finger.

Bellatrix smiled broadly and a distant, more sane part of her wondered if he would still chase after her like he had so long ago - despite her being married. She would never give him the chance, but she rather liked the attention. "Peter, why hello. It's been so long." An odd thought struck her and she rocked forward as she giggled. "I must be dreaming that you're here." She sat down on the floor, her legs crossed in a way that would have made her mother have a fit. "You're just as fidgety as I remember. Do I frighten you?" She snapped her teeth at him suddenly and he backed away. She followed him on all fours until he got past his whimpering and rushed out what he needed to say.

"Th- The Dark Lord has sent me to give you a message." She stopped in her tracks and smiled so wide, she could almost feel her dead mother slap the back of her head, reminding her it would cause wrinkles.

"You say his title with pride. Don't you dare stumble over his precious name."

He whimpered as he watched her and she revelled in the fear she was still able to stir within him. "He says he will send word once he is ready for you to join him. He wants you to make allies here-"

"He's back?" She whispered her words as her fingers danced along her cheeks. "Then you are no vision. You're really here." Even through her madness, the weight of his words were able to sink in quickly. "THE DARK LORD IS COMING FOR ME, HE'S COMING! AHAHAHAHA!" She threw her head back in laughter, and when she looked back at where Peter had been, he was gone. She looked at her cell door - which was the only entrance or exit - just in time to see a rat tail disappear.

It didn't matter to her anyway. She had talked about the day he would come back and now she had confirmation that he would. "RABASTAN! RODOLPHUS! HE COMES FOR US!" She ran to the iron bars of her cell and shook them, screaming their names, until the intense burning of her hands were too much for her to bear.

In heavy breaths, she collapsed on the ground, glancing at the burnt hands before cupping her face with them. She happily hummed to herself, even though she hated how one hand's finger tips were able to comfortably sit in an empty eye socket. Losing her eye was the worst memory she ever had - one that even surpassed the Dark Lord falling in Godric's Hollow.

"Moody, what are you doing?" Moe Besser, an auror in training, had said as Bellatrix writhed on the ground of her temporary holding cell at the Ministry. She was awaiting trial, meaning that no one should have been able to visit her, but war had just ended and the aurors had yet to be stripped of the extra power they held.

"War spoil," he replied in a mesmerized tone. He curiously turned the eye he had just carved out of her head between his index finger and thumb. "And revenge for two of my best Aurors. A little tit for tat." A wicked grin morphed the ugly scars on his face as he tucked her eyeball into his pocket. "I just so happened to be in the market for a new eye, and with the right enhancements… well, let's just say there won't be much I can't see." His laugh was as dark as any other Death Eater she worked with and soon enough, Besser joined in with him.

"GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK!" she howled. They had taken her wand and with the iron infused manacles on her arms, she was powerless for the first time in her life. She didn't know if she was actually seeing red in her remaining eye, or if she had gotten blood in it despite her attempts to keep it in. "YOU FILTHY FUCKING HALF-BREED!"

He chuckled and grinned at her. He leaned forward, and without giving her the small satisfaction of even matching her volume, said a single word: "No."

She had vowed to strangle him with his eyepatch that day, but had never gotten the chance. When she was freed from Azkaban though, she would fulfill that promise.

Bellatrix backed away from the cell, where a Dementor had finally approached her cell. "Ah, ah, ah! You almost had me, making me think of that Half-Breed!" The Dementor said nothing, and she recalled what Peter had said about the Dark Lord wanting allies. "I wonder, did you fight with us in the first war? A little mouse told me a secret about the Dark Lord coming back and I am sure you would like a feast."

A rattling sound came from within the dark cloak of the creature before her.

"Think of all the souls you and your little cloaked friends can feast on! All the little mudbloods we get to cleanse the world of! It'll be like Christmas." Her fingers danced happily along her cheeks again, barely able to keep her excitement from physically showing.

This time, it was the Dementor who hissed as he lowered himself to her eye level, almost pressing itself against her cell door.

They only ever did that when an inmate had something they wanted.