A/N: All right, so I've recently developed an obsession with David Tennant. Particularly as Barty Crouch Jr. So this plot bunny started gnawing at my brain and won't let go. XD I'm a naughty llama, but I promise, I will stop neglecting my other stories at some point. XD

Basically for this story, the war has been over for years. Hermione is in her late 20s. Her new patient is Barty Crouch Jr., who has gotten his soul back. :3 There will DEFINITELY be romance and happy lemons in here. Although I assure you, Barty will still be sorta crazy. ;) Not sure about any other pairings yet, I don't know if I want to adhere to canon or not (also applies to canon deaths). Let the story begin!

Azkaban had to be the worst place Hermione Granger had ever visited, hands down. Although the dementors had all been destroyed, their taint still lingered in the gloomy stone walls. The very air felt thick and oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to hyperventilate or simply to turn and flee the way she had come.

Nobody had realized until the end of the war that victims who had been Kissed regained their souls when the dementor who Kissed them was destroyed. As such, Azkaban was now filled with suddenly-awake, very much alive, and still very dangerous prisoners. A few-very few-showed the potential for rehabilitation and release to the outside world (or at least a private, secluded mental hospital as far from Azkaban as one could get), and that was why Hermione was here today. A Mind Healer for St. Mungo's and a witch of some repute, Hermione had decided to take on the most difficult (and most infamous) case still housed here-Bartemius Crouch Junior.

She still remembered him impersonating Alastor Moody in her fourth year. Still remembered the odd darts of his tongue as he slathered his bottom lip with spit. A nervous tic? She wondered if he still had it, or if the loss and subsequent re-gain of his soul had removed such traits from him. Would he remember her? Miss Granger, the impertinent know-it-all mudblood? Truthfully, he'd never said the word as near as she could remember, but she wouldn't be surprised. They were all alike in some ways. Why this one would be any different, she didn't know.

And yet...Hermione's steps slowed as she reached the ward where Barty Crouch Jr. was housed. She'd always felt a strange connection with the man. She had never told anybody. She felt sick and ashamed of it. And it wasn't that she'd been a secret Voldemort sympathizer or anything. On the contrary, she hated He Who Must Not Be Named and was glad he was dead. Had helped kill him.

But the loyalty Barty Jr. spoke of...perhaps that led to the strange thrill deep in her stomach as she proceeded to his cell. Although she could not agree with the madman's cause, his fierce loyalty to the Dark Lord had stirred Hermione. He would kill for Voldemort, die for Voldemort, do anything for Voldemort. Anything at all. She even understood his anger at the Death Eaters who had fled or lied their way out of Azkaban, the ones who had never stood and remained faithful. It disturbed her, but the understanding weighed more.

He was standing when she reached his cell door, standing against the wall, his arms crossed casually across his chest. He was painfully thin, she noted with a pang. Kissed victims were rarely treated with the proper care they needed. She had no doubt that he'd been badly neglected back here, stuck in a damp cell with moldy straw on the floor and a meal once a day, if he was lucky. You had to feed a Kissed victim by hand, you see, and most of the guards didn't want to bother. Creeped them out back here, with all those blank gazes and dead faces.

"Mr. Crouch?" Hermione inquired, although she knew the answer. He came closer, his steps unsteady. Dark brown eyes burned out of that sharp-featured face. His hair, too long, flopped against his collar.

"That was my father's name," he rasped, his voice raspy and broken. "Please call me Barty." He tried a smile-it stretched his lips painfully wide.

"All right," Hermione said uncertainly. She pushed her hair back behind her ears with a nervous gesture. "My name is-"

"Hermione Granger," Barty interrupted. His smile widened. "The know-it-all. I remember you...sort of." Confusion crossed his face, muddying his eyes. "It's all a blur," he muttered fretfully, rubbing at his head.

"It's all right, Mr.-Barty, you don't need to try and remember now," Hermione reassured him. "There's more than enough time for that later. For now, just know that I'm your Mind Healer for the duration, and I shall be taking you out of here tonight. The Ministry has conferred with St. Mungo's and has concurred that you are safe enough to be removed from Azkaban for a period consisting of no less than six weeks. After that, your case will be reviewed and you may either be set free into the wizarding world, sent to Breezy Pines Convalescent and Rehabilitation Hospital, or, at worst, sent back to Azkaban. But I don't think it will come to that," she finished with a practiced smile.

Barty laughed hollowly, bracing himself against the wall.

"So I finally get out of here, huh? With you? Are you my new jailor?" he inquired, his tongue darting out to lap at his bottom lip. It seemed he did indeed still possess that nervous habit, Hermione noticed.

"Mind Healer, Barty. Not jailor," Hermione said. "Technically, you are free to go at any time. Unfortunately, the chances of you passing your review in six weeks without my help is well, unlikely."

"Of course," Barty snorted. "Pretty name for it, I suppose, but it's still a prison. At least there will be no more dementors." His eyes went blank as he remembered the dementor lowering its hood, that icy raddle of breath that had puffed into his face as scabrous arms pulled him closer...

"Barty!" Hermione's concerned voice yanked him out of the nightmare. He took a deep breath, his tongue swiping across his entire top lip.

"Yes?" he said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. He could hear the shakiness in his own voice and cursed himself.

"The guard is here," Hermione said, indicated the broad-shouldered blonde man who had finally puffed up to her side, holding a large ring of keys. "Come on, Mr. Cr-Barty. Let's get you out of here."

That sounds like a good plan, Barty thought as the door swung open and thudded against the wall. He took a few shaky steps forward, his eyes squinting at the relatively bright light of the corridor. Out. Free. Even...home?

Hermione put a gentle hand on one of his shoulders and guided him forward. He wrapped his arms around himself and let her.