Guess who's back? Back again. QueenVulca's back! Tell a friend!

Yup, I am back for only the moment. So starting this Which excuse's on air, anyway? show with excuse no. 6.

Excuse 6: Queen was busy. She had tonnes of assignments and as soon as she handed them over, her exams began. But she wrote this chapter down whenever she had time. Tea breaks, coffee breaks and breaks. Also, her muse ran away with a gun bucking, shirtless Tomione plunny hunk. So there is a gangster Tomione in the wings. It's almost done. And for this...its just 2 more chapters short of the end. So it's also almost done. I hope to chalk out the next chapter but don't be surprised if this goes un-updated for a month or more. This chapter was made extra long, yes, 8.4k words, just to sate the thirst. In the meantime, you guys can check out some of my one-shots.

Hope you guys like this chapter. A lil review never hurt anyone but it makes my day. I didn't give it out for beta-ing to fasten the process. But it'll be done later.

My love to Puja, Shubham and WinchesterGranger! You guys are awesome! :*

Chapter 5

Brian was allotted today's shift after the mass riot that had to be brought under control by the Punisher himself. If this went on, then probably Batman would have to be called to control the next riot. Brian really didn't want to work in this wretched prison anymore. He must have pulled the shortest stick in the job allotment after the Police Academy training. But the pay was good. Damn good. Compensation for a job that had a bad liability of getting you killed on duty. He rolled his eyes and went his way to check the cells on the women's block. At least they seemed a little tamer than their male counterparts.

He took out his Taser and went his way to patrol. Thanks to the glass wall that didn't make him personally stick his face in the door hole that was the surprise outlet for many prisoners. Why his colleague John got his face clawed when he veered too close to the door hole before the new glass wall upgrade.

He breathed deeply and adopted a confident gait to his walk and started his patrol along the long, dark, gloomy corridor of horror. He gulped but didn't falter.

'Harley is busy giggling to jokes only she can hear, Catwoman is snarled at him as he passed by, the new English woman is busy reading piles of books on a cosy sofa, Poison Ivy is—Hold that thought!'

Brian quickly backtracked his way only to see the British woman still reading something but on the standard mattress on the floor. He shook his head as if to dislodge the illusion he saw. This job was really getting into his head. In a bad way. Next employees meeting, he was definitely asking for a transfer. Brian quickly walked out of the corridor failing to see the smirk that adorned the British woman's face.

. . .

Prison life was…boring. But she had three wonderful people (if she can call them that) to talk to. Harley was a fun person and Selina was a charming conversationalist and Poison Ivy aka Pamela is a doctorate. Such educated people (except Selina. She's street smart) in this place. Behind bars…er…glass wall. Looks like knowledge lands you behind bars. They all had a good laugh at that. All those years gruelling against odds, striving for academic pinnacle only to find ourselves in a six by eight room. With a glass front. And a pitiful excuse of a ventilator. And of course the 'Au naturale' bathroom. No privacy at all. Selina was a cat, she didn't care. Harley would have made a show out of it if she could, Ivy had her plants and Hermione had her magic.

It had been three days until she got a beckon from the prison's psychiatrist, Dr Strange. The name said it all for the type of things that happened to people here. A guard came to guide her out and there was another accompanying him. Just two guards. Her lack of participation in that riot must have marked her as a harmless crazy. Not to mention the fact that she was an "outsider" here. Anyways, she dusted her baggy trousers for invisible lint and stretched her hands towards one who quickly bound her wrists with a cuff and pulled her out of her cell.

As she walked down, Harley gave a woot as a greeting. Hermione wiggled her brows at her and walked away with the guards.

. . .

The whole atmosphere of the asylum is more gloomy than creepy to her. The corridors were dark despite the ample lighting provided. She had read about this building's history: it had an illustrious history, though one tainted with blood. As she walked by, she saw some cells had a glass front and some with wooden doors that had a wired opening. Looks like her file had rated her a 'deadly prisoner' cell. They reached a chamber that had a waiting bench adjacent to it. The guard motioned her to sit, so she took a seat and tried to take in the surroundings. A beautiful mansion turned into an asylum for criminally insane. The founder had later become a patient here. Hermione scoffed and shook her head at the irony. The chamber room opened and the middle-aged bald man with a beard that bordered the outline of his jaw came out. He had a pair of yellow-tinted spectacles perched close to his eyes and in the smoothest voice Hermione had ever heard, he told her to enter. He nodded subtly at the guards and they nodded back. Hermione's cuff was removed and she rubbed her wrists as she got inside the room. The man followed her in and closed the door behind them.

"Hello, I am Dr Hugo Strange, chief of psychiatry here at Arkham Asylum," the psychiatrist said extending his hands for a handshake.

Hermione gave that hand one slight glance and then grasped it in a handshake. "Hermione Granger, co-founder of a law firm based in London."

The doctor merely nodded his head and motioned her to take a seat. Hermione gracefully sat down and crossed her legs at her ankle and remained posed upright. The doctor took out a file and flipped pages through it. His eyes roved over the pages rather quickly.

"It says that you have been convicted of murders of eleven people. Says you have...a serial killing...tendency," Hugo stated pausing at some words deliberately.

"They haven't proved it yet," Hermione replied with a shrug.

"That means you do confess that you have killed them?" Hugo asked raising a fine eyebrow out of his tinted glasses.

"It means there was no proof," Hermione corrected calmly.

"A perfect crime then?" Hugo asked again.

"Innocent until proved otherwise," Hermione scowled.

Hugo hummed and closed the file keeping it back in its place.

"I'll have you know that Arkham has the best facilities to help you cope with any problem that you might be having," Hugo said almost automatedly.

Hermione hummed in answer, instead of busy in taking in the décor of the office. The office was longish with windows on one side and a high chest of drawers on the other- probably filled with files of patients. The room was very impersonal save for some certificates hanging in the background.

"We shall talk in details, later on, Ms Granger," Hugo said and Hermione's head snapped towards him in rapt attention.

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes taking in his impassive face. Hugo titled his head and Hermione blinked and came back to herself.

She nodded to her herself. "Yes, sure. Next time, doctor."

Hugo gave a long single nod and Hermione got out of her chair and walked out of the door.

"Patient no. 7842/B by the name of Hermione Granger," Hugo Strange began his voice note. "The patient exhibits normal behaviour but there are some trigger words that causes a lapse in her normalcy. The patient has been diagnosed as showing violent signs of dementia and multiple personality disorder. Though I beg to differ. The patient is perfectly normal. Well, a perfectly normal psychopath that is."

"How did your appointment go?" Harley asked from the cell across Hermione's.

"Boring," Hermione replied back reclining on her eazy chair with a fat tome of Noble house of Black's Magic history. Reading through it, it didn't faze her that Bellatrix turned out the way she did. The magical behind-the-scene details about the creation of Blood Boiling Curse were a fascinating read.

"Girl, where did you manage to get that chair? They never give me anything. I did kill for a coffee machine," Harley commented seeing Hermione dig deeper into the plump and comfortable-looking eazy chair as Harley swung lightly on her swing made of a bedsheet.

"Magic," Hermione answered not looking up from her book.

"Really? Magic?" shouted out Pamela shouted out from the cell adjacent to Hermione's.

"You control plants yet you don't believe the existence of magic?" Hermione asked still reading her book.

"It's just that she hasn't seen any of your funky tricks you know," Harley helpfully supplied.

"Yes, I wouldn't mind seeing one," Pamela replied.

"Me too. I am too bored. Hit me with a trick," Selina added from the other adjacent cell.

"You guys just won't let me read, will you?" Hermione sighed as she snapped her book shut and got up from her seat. The chair vanished with a pop! And she flung her book to the side where it disappeared with a whoosh!

"Let's have a sleepover. What do you say?" Hermione asked rubbing her hands in anticipation.

"Yes, please. We'll gossip, braid each other's hair, have pillow fights in our underwear and- and-" Harley rumbled on.

"I wouldn't mind seeing Harley in her underwear. She does have a fantastic ass," Pamela commented.

"I would love a good stretch too," Selina said.

"Okay. Now everybody stand in the middle of their rooms, please," Hermione requested spreading her arms but clawing her hands. A strong gust picked up that ruffled all the inmates' hair.

"Okaaaaaay, she's like really doing it!" Harley clapped her hands jumping a little in her place as she watched Hermione whose hair was standing on the edge, static sparking at the end. The plaster of the walls trembled and like a hot knife coming out of butter, the bricks seamlessly came out to rearrange. The whole wing slowly transformed into a luxurious suite. The thread bare bed sheets and thin mattresses turned into fluffy mattresses with lots of pillows. The ceramic toilet bowls transfused and turned into a deep Jacuzzi tub. The windows got enlarged to French windows with thick curtains. It was a totally furnished suite in a five-star hotel for a girls night out.

"Would you look at that?! Yippee! I haven't been to a place like this in ages!" Harley squealed, jumping all the way towards the fluffy beds. She gave a mighty leap and landed in the middle bouncing a little along with the pillows. " This…is nice," Harley murmured snuggling into the pillows.

"I am impressed," Selina said as she joined Harley on the bed.

Hermione swayed a little in her place and sat heavily on her usual eazy chair that appeared just as she started to sit down through the empty air.

"Now if we had some snacks, it would be perfect," Selina commented pulling a fluffy blanket towards her.

"I have some seeds and water. If Ivy can," Hermione left off looking at Pamela who sat still standing away from the bed, not believing her eyes.

Ivy pulled herself up when she heard the challenge in Hermione's voice.

"Of course, I can," Ivy huffed, crossing her arms.

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a purse and gave it to Ivy.

"The names are written on the zip lock pouches. Imma take a-yawn-a nap now," Hermione said as her chair reclined backwards and a light blanket flew towards her and covered her. Hermione promptly fell into a cat nap.

"Poor girl is soooo tired now," Harley said getting up. She walked up to Hermione and lightly caressed her hair. "Such soft hair." Harley sighed.

"So the snacks?" Selina asked raising a brow at Pamela.

Pamela just rolled her eyes.

It was a good girl's night out. The fruits were absolutely delicious. Juicy with an exotic taste. Hermione had joined the feast after a fifteen-minute power nap. Selina moaned as she bit into a star fruit that was blood red on the inside. Harley giggled the apple juice dribbled past her chin when she bit into her green apple. Pamela was appreciating the fruits of her labour and Hermione watched all these with a smile rivalling that of a cat that got the cream. She tore a grape from a bunch and popped it in her mouth, the smug smile again settling on her face.

"These are seeds of the utmost quality. These have not been touched by what passes as fertilisers and pesticides these days," Pamela commented suckling on her half of the orange.

"My friend grew them. He tended them with his own hands, no magic. Loved them like his children and nurtured them with love and a dash of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata," Hermione answered in a faraway voice, clearly lost in a flashback.

"And where is he now?" Pamela asked very much interested to know about a guy who was passionate about plants.

"He's a professor at my old school. Neville had a heart of gold. But the meddling interference of the school governors in his personal herbology work has left him demotivated. These were the last batch of his plant's seeds before the governors razed his personal herbology lab citing a weed infestation caused by his hybrid plant residue," Hermione scoffed. "As if Neville can't take care of a weed problem."

Pamela looked pissed on hearing that and Selina just nodded her head. The pensive mood broke when Harley gave a loud giggle and said dreamily, "See those mallets? They are juuuuuuust like Mistah J's. Oh, oh, oh! Look my acid playing cards!" Harley raised her hand in the air, lying on her back on the bed, to catch an invisible card. "Be careful, guys! Those burn!"

"What did she eat?"

"Must have been a hybridised grapefruit. Neville was looking for an anti-hallucinogen. He might have found a mild fun crack instead," Hermione said as she watched Harley pivot around the 'suite'.

"I think I could do with a high now. A nice glass of wine would have been a good touch, you know," Selina said as she sauntered her way towards the oddly bright green grapefruit.

Hermione shrugged and watched her cell friends enjoy the fruits Neville worked so hard for. He would be very pleased to know that his experiments are appreciated and enjoyed here. She'll be sure to add this in her next letter to Draco. That pesky rat did deliver her letter to an owl but he nibbled on it a bit. Buck-toothed nibbling hooligan!

"Welcome again, Ms Granger," Dr Hugo greeted motioning Hermione to take a seat before him.

It was a couple of days after their first meeting and today they were supposed to start their sessions. Some good that'll do. In Hermione's opinion, the man was insane himself but hid that very well behind the mask of professionalism. He was too smart for anyone's good.

Hermione nodded and took her seat.

"Tea?" Hugo asked as he went towards the tea tray to get a cup of tea.

"Yes, please," Hermione replied. On being asked how she preferred it, she replied a curt with a dash of lime and two cubes of sugar. Sweet and sour, just like her.

Taking a sip of the hot beverage, Hermione silently appreciated the well-made tea. One wouldn't know they made good tea in America. How surprising.

Hugo carefully noted all her behaviour and took mental note of how sophisticatedly she behaved.

"Today, I am going to ask you some questions and I hope you answer them honestly," Hugo began opening a notepad to dot things down.

Hermione nodded in reply.

"It says in your file that you have killed over eleven people in cold blood. Please explain your motive."

"Just like that?" Hermione asked instead. "I am just supposed to explain why it happened?"

"I have seen that you deny killing them and that you insisted that you have been framed. Any reason behind it?"

"Ummm… maybe because I didn't do it," Hermione replied slowly as if explaining something to a dull person.

"You are deluding no one here, Ms Granger," Hugo said as he watched Hermione's eyes tighten a little around the corner.

"You and I both know what's what here. By not accepting the truth, you are hindering your own health. Ms Granger, you have been sent here to get well. If you keep denying the truth about yourself then you would be doing no progress. In fact, you would be doing injustice to yourself. You have to learn to embrace yourself. Your true self."

"You mean by being a killer everybody is supposing me to be?" Hermione asked sceptically.

"No. It means it's time for you to be who you are supposed to be," Hugo replied cryptically.

The two sessions after that were pretty much the same. What, why, when, and some more why. Hermione knew that Hugo was not another silly shrink. He was sly, probably more than Salazar Slytherin himself. She had seen that a man who had completed his sessions with Hugo had bit off his own tongue when Hugo had counselled him to be more soft spoken since he often instigated inmates with his words. Hugo was dangerous. And Hermione needed to be very cautious of him.

Unlike other days, Hermione's session took place in a sterilised lab this time. A nurse escorted her to the room when she thought she was being taken to the counselling chamber. It had pristine white walls, medical tools and equipment, the long unfriendly check-up table with stirrups. And in that stirrup was a man.

Hermione took in everything and then turned to Hugo who was sporting a getup that clearly belonged in the operation theatre.

"Well, Hermione, this is going to be your first interactive session," Dr Hugo said turning around to fiddle at a table that surely had medical tools given the clinking sound of metal.

"As for what? Playing doctor?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"No. To act upon what you feel the best."

"I don't feel like playing doctor."

"This man," Hugo began ignoring Hermione's quip, "is a sexual assaulter. He has this...perversion of sexually assaulting pre-teen children." At Hermione's incredulous look, he assured, "yes, yes. You heard it right. Children. So far he has killed over ten children and maimed and mauled around five children."

"But why are you telling me this?"

"It wasn't hard looking for the details of the people you killed. Though a couple were pretty hard. Confidential matter I have been told. And noted that the people you kill are…offenders. They all had skeletons in their closet. Some small, some big. But they all did have them. You are not a killer, oh no no… you are a vigilante. A morally ambiguous vigilante. You just need a little guidance," Hugo said in the smoothest voice he could manage. He knew the effect a soft word had rather than the jolting effect of a harsh tone. Soft voice managed to sink in like a fish hook and plunge in deep before you even knew what happened. "You were meant to do this, Ms Granger."

"Stop calling me Ms Granger!" Hermione snarled not taking in anything but the patronising way he called her.

"You are this vigilante that the world needs. We do have our local help… but a person of calibre is the only one who can view this situation from a different point of view."

Hermione was breathing heavily now. Her fingers were spasming, twitching to grab her wand that was long gone.

"You don't realise your own potential. You are a saint among these sinners. A messiah among these leaderless. You are going to guide them, you shall give them the justice they deserve and they need. Do it, Ms Granger. Free this trapped soul. Show him the light."

"I am not a caged animal! You can't make me do things! I do things on my own accord, you hear that! My. Own. Accord! Not yours! Not Dumbledore's! Not Ronald's! Not McGonagall! Not anyone but MINE! Is that CLEAR TO YOU?!" Hermione shouted herself hoarse with that.

The orderlies quickly entered the room and grabbed Hermione from behind. But that did little good. She blasted them away from her stalking her way towards Hugo who was standing on the other side of the examination table. The strapped man was shouting through his gag but only made some muffled noise that went unheard. Hugo looked unaffected save for the annoyed look on his face. He had, after all, lost an important manipulation trick. It had worked smoothly in past for almost everyone. But then again, not everyone was the same. All his work down the drain. A horse too wild to break in. A little too wild. His eyes rolled on their own, thinking about the work he had to redo. He rubbed his hands lightly and motioned the guard to shot her with a tranquilizer. They'll work on it again sometime. He wasn't called the best in his field just like that. He would tame this animal. Just like he had done with all his special gems.

Hermione's hair was coiling like serpents, sparks crackling on her exposed skin and an inferno blazing behind her eyes. But as the strong tranq started working inside Hermione, the strong blast of dry and arid wind and the abrupt electric shocks that the orderlies, who were holding her, got first hand stopped right away. As they dragged the unconscious woman away- who looked no older than a teenager when asleep-

Hugo knew he would have to improvise. He hadn't had a good challenge for a long time. This one would be his masterpiece. As Hermione finally succumbed to the effects of the tranq, Hugo instructed, "Allow her some yard time tomorrow. She'll need some fresh air. It'll do her good," the orderlies nodded and they carried Hermione away to her cell.

Hugo was going to give himself a day off today to retreat and regroup and then...attack.

When Hermione came around, she was in a bad mood. How dare that bald old man try to cohere her into being his puppet! The insolence! What does he think himself to be? Hermione was pretty pissed off for the remaining day. Though she joined the cell to form the suite again, she didn't participate much in the merry making. And sensing her dark clouds nobody disturbed her either except for giving her the share of her goodies. Harley wanted to talk to her but Pamela stopped her given they knew a slice of what Hermione can do. It was better not to irritate her further.

The next day Hermione was escorted to the exercise yard along with others- the 'not-so-harmless' crazies. The only people to get this privilege were the non-violent one. As she walked into the yard, she spotted that mysterious scare guy lounging at the fence on the side.

Hermione looked around. The grass under their feet was artificial. Even the wildflowers were fake. Hermione sneered at the offending plastic. Must be something to do with Pamela's powers. Hermione softly kicked the grass and ambled towards the other side ignoring the scare guy. She knew others preferred the left side of the yard to avoid the surveillance camera on the right. But it was of no use, the orderlies accompanied by guards and a doctor kept a rapt attention on them. Also, the muggle cameras or video recorders had a problem filming her given the interference from her magical aura. She neared the chain link and showed her back to the camera focusing on conjuring a bluebell fire. It was a nice feeling exercising her magic. She didn't get enough practice here.

So lost in her own world, Hermione didn't even notice when the scare guy approached her.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

Hermione twirled around, arms out in front with her fingers splayed at him with the blue flame rising with a flash, aggressively reaching out to the supposed hostile threat. She eyed him from head to toe and the flames died down immediately.

"Metahuman, huh?" He asked his eyes showing a little appreciation.

Hermione didn't answer but she nodded her head nonetheless.

"How rude of me," he began, "I am Dr Jonathan Crane. But people like to call me the scarecrow."

"Hermione Granger." Hermione curtly introduced herself.

"And what brought you here?" He asked looking extremely intrigued.

Hermione looked at him from beneath her lashes. He was a lanky and a tall person. But despite his thin stature, he was...intimidating- for the lack of better words. His presence was icy and his persona did nothing to break the ice. Hermione was very, very intrigued.

"I was framed,"

"Were you?"

"Why does nobody believe me here?"

"Because everybody is innocent here. In their own minds."

"Well then, I am innocent until proven otherwise."

"Now that's better. So what was your crime?"

"Trimming the shrubs, weeding the weeds," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Social work, I see,"

Hermione nodded with a slight smile.

Jonathan hugged her and placed his mouth near her ears, "Hope you have a good time here." And very deliberately, he kissed her right on her mouth. And as he kissed her, he slipped his tongue inside Hermione's lips parted by her involuntary gasp. Hermione was shocked. Surprised and shocked but she responded…a bit. There was no reason other than the fact that she found him...attractive. He stroked his tongue confidently against her's and she responded by curling her tongue around his. The kiss left her dizzy and he pulled back with a smug smile and walked away with a swagger before the guards noticed their diligence. Hermione knew she took a chance kissing someone who loved to scare people to death. But she couldn't help herself. She wanted to scratch that itch that has been surfacing of late.

She watched him get escorted back to his cell. But before he went away, he gave her a chilling smirk.

Maybe, she shouldn't have taken that chance.

Hermione's cellmates knew Hermione had a shitty session with that wretched psychiatrist but they didn't imagine the bad mood will last this long. They were the most worried about her, in their own way ever since she came back from the walk in the yard.

Hermione had started mumbling to herself since then. She seemed to talk to someone. Not just talk but argue and debate and sometimes placating someone.

More often than not they found her calling out the names Fred, Tonks, Remus. Even someone called Dobby. Must be a dead but loved pet. Oh, and something called Crookstank or something. One day, they saw her bawling her eyes out and the other day she was vehemently quarrelling with someone.

"I was too young to be in that damn war in the first place, Fred. Even you were too young. What did you expect? That I would be a hero saving everyone I love with a spin of the time turner? Newsflash, lost twin! It was taken away by the authorities. It was merely a means of education!"

Obviously, the whole conversation was taking place in her head so her 'friends' didn't hear the reply but whatever it was it caused Hermione to calm down a bit. And abruptly she became sad. It caused whiplash in all her cell mates. They had never seen her fluctuate like this. She was the calmest, logical and sanest person among them. But then again, if she wasn't like them, she wouldn't have been here at Arkham in the first place.

Poor girl had cried herself to sleep now. Probably the next morning shall be brighter for her.

Unfortunately, the fickle moods of one Hermione Granger didn't dissipate even after a day or two. And it was becoming a little annoying for them now. Ivy merely asked how Hermione was once in a while but Selina gave her one look after Hermione woke up after a black out and declared that she wasn't insane enough to deal with a witch with mood swings. She did, however, keep a sharp eye on her. Harley sometimes conversed with Hermione. They had the strangest conversation that made the other two woman second guess themselves. It was hard finding out on which side of sanity you were while staying at Arkham. Every day they were toeing the line. Pity, they didn't know they were all on the other side of the line.

Hermione didn't know which day it was or what time it was. All she knew was that she was very, very angry- at herself, at Hugo, at- at everyone. There was a near constant cracking of thunder in her cell ever since she had that blasted session with that bloody doctor and that vile, knee weakening, stupid kiss from Crane. To make the matters worse that bald pig kept sending her criminal records of the inmates she had met or seen in the cafeteria. She couldn't accept the fact the corridors were housing rapists, molesters, cold blooded murderers and-and such filths were living in the same place as she was! This could not be. She wouldn't let it be. It was like Wizarding Britain all over again. The Death Eaters walking free because they had money, plotting murders of children because they had the 'wrong' blood, hunting three teen all over Britain because a megalomaniac wished it. She would not let this happen. Not again.

Hermione's cell rumbled again; her righteous anger manifesting as a thunderstorm. Hermione's surveillance glass had gone dark not allowing anyone to see inside her cell. Fearing the worse, a couple of guards had gone inside the cell to check up on her but they didn't get out of the cell. Instead, a few hours later the cell opened from the inside and two human-sized charcoals came out floating. Her 'friends' were shocked, to say the least. Even Harley didn't comment on them. Actually...she did. She tutted softly. Not over the bodies. Over Hermione's bad mood. "Poor girl must be having a helluva monthly. Poor, poooooor girl," was what she said. Selina didn't leave the chance to say that she had told them so. Pamela felt a little bad for the girl who was the most caring of them all. She sent her a flower or two whenever she could. Anyone who appreciated plant life was a person worth getting a flower from the Poison Ivy.

It was one helluva week.

Dr Hugo was in a pensive mood after that visit from the morgue where he was called to sign the forms- formalities for the patients who 'died' under the care of Arkham. His thoughts were interrupted by the knocking on his door.

"Come in." Hugo permitted the interloper to enter.

"Sorry to disturb you, Dr Hugo," Ethel Peabody, assistant to Chief of Psychiatry, Arkham, began by poking her head in through the slightly ajar door, "but I had to discuss a personal topic with you."

Hugo motioned her to take a seat. Once the door was tightly shut and the seat before Hugo was promptly occupied, Ethel started out excitedly.

"I got my hands on a confidential detail of patient 7842/B a.k.a Hermione Granger."

"And what does it say?" Hugo asked calmly his voice not betraying his curiosity.

"She is a born meta. Like Poison Ivy. But unlike her, patient 7842/B can control many things around her."

"Hmm. That's interesting. But I think this wasn't the entire reason for your abrupt intrusion."

"Sir, she killed two guards yesterday."

Hugo's slightly widened eyes were the only thing that indicated his peaked interest.

"That's fascinating. What brought about this…change?"

"They had intruded on her having an episode of insanity."

"She seemed to be the most normal of them all," Hugo commented as he tried to find the times she acted on her instinct.

"The exercise yard guards said that patient Jonathan Crane had kissed her a week before. From then on, she had slight episodes of talking to herself and some slight self-arguments too which she strongly believed were her dead friends talking to her. But in a couple of days, her condition worsened and she became a recluse- busy quarrelling with nobody. A day before the guards entered her cell, her cell mates said that she was having severe mood swings and finally when the guards entered the blacked out cell, only their charcoaled bodies came out. A correction- floated out and was dumped on the corridor floor." Ethel finished hurriedly.

"So a pyrokinetic?" Hugo guessed.

"No, she's more. She can manipulate matter too. Guards have often reported having seen her resting on luxurious sofas or king sized bed in a six by eight feet room."

"She's becoming more and more interesting as every day passes," Hugo commented softly.

"Sir, if I am not intruding—"

"Not at all."

"What are your plans for this patient?"

"An alternative vigilante."

"Batman's counterpart?"

"Something of that sort."

"Why her? What is special about her other than her powers?" Ethel asked unable to kerb her curiosity.

"You know how every mind is different from each other. They are fingerprints. Similar but never the same. It is a pleasure, an achievement to learn what makes them tick. Of all the cases I have seen here- they are all crazy because of themselves. Well, barring Harley."

"I didn't quite get you," Ethel asked confusedly.

"Every one of them was of sane minds. But there were reasons why they crossed the line. And all reasons were selfish. One wanted to be the biggest and the badest of them all, one gave up humanity for the sake of love, one forgot to be human to save his wife, one was scorned and looked down upon for the way he was born and one in the name of science." Hugo gave a short laugh and shook his head in dismay. "But this girl. She became crazy because of others. They made her crazy. Her fault was hanging on to her sanity."

On seeing Ethel's befuddled face, Hugo explained, "She was a liability for her people. It is easy to paint someone crazy and ship them to another continent. You are crazy, who would believe you?"

"Victim of a conspiracy."

"And a survivor. She's got a severe case of PTSD which makes her sensitive to certain words or actions. And she's got this rigid sense of right and wrong. I guess she was a whistle blower who got deported for exposing the truth about a powerful person or maybe the government itself. Her files are classified after all."

"A twisted righteous soul."

"Exactly, Ethel. Something that can challenge Batman in ways you can't even fathom. She can make him second guess his decisions. Because at the end of the day, Hermione is just a simple psychopath who hates the offenders. You can say, a killer of the killers."

"Which sounds just like Batman's job description. Without the killing part."

Hugo only nodded his head.

"Now that Crane has gotten her so agitated, should we do something?"

"No. He's doing something that I had hoped to do. Hermione is limiting herself. Her own sense of good and bad is hindering her on acting upon her whims. Once she's free of those chains…there's no stopping her."

"So, more sessions?"
"More sessions."

The sessions were a pain in the arse. Last week was the most taxing. She might have killed someone too. But that detail is blurry to her. Crane's hallucinogen had died down and she was feeling much better now. She didn't have any more episodes like that but she didn't feel the same as she was when she first entered this place. Something broke inside her and she doesn't know what. Her friends were patient enough to bear with her. They were the most considerate, unlike a certain bald rat. Repeatedly, that despicable doctor kept whispering temptations to her and she did her level best to ignore him. Enough to say, she felt for Eve who fell in the temptations of the snake's promises. Poor girl had a snowball's chance in hell against it.

And here she was fighting against her own snake. It was becoming exceedingly difficult as each session went. Her fingers often twitched to read the files that sat innocently before her in her cell but she bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, using pain to distract herself. It wasn't working now. She had already read what was in the file and now her fingers twitched to snap the neck of the man who thought it would be funny to make wax models of children who were still alive- patient 3569/D. She took deep breaths but her anger was climbing exponentially.

Resist, resist, RESIST!

She couldn't anymore. She started rocked back and forth in her mattress on the floor chanting 'resist' like a mantra when a loud bang broke her attention.

"You okay?" the guard shouted.

"I am now," Hermione answered as she looked at the guard who was standing there.

"You have a visitor," the guard said as he opened her cell.

Hermione looked at him inquisitively. "I don't want to see the said visitor."

"Can't do otherwise, miss. Orders from higher ups," the guard replied firmly but politely. Perhaps, he has been told not to treat her like other occupants of this place. That she still was functioning properly. That she hasn't gone fully feral yet.

Hermione complied with what he said and didn't put up a fuss. Maybe, fresh air could do her some good.

She walked past all the closed doors with just a box like window in them and glass walls as well. She paid them no heed. She wanted to know who had the guts to visit her here in the States. She was patted down and some singular handcuffs placed on her wrists like two twin bracelets. Tasering bracelets most probably. She was escorted to a tiny room with a chair in front of a thin desk that was joined to the glass wall. There was a phone on that desk. On the other side of the glass walls sat a smirking platinum blonde.

Hermione cocked her head and stared at him, not ready to believe the identity of her visitor. As if on autopilot, she approached the chair and sat down then placed her hand on the glass, her fingers flayed. Draco responded by placing his hands in line with her, his longer fingers dwarfing hers. He picked up the receiver and jerked his chin at her prompting her to do the same. She numbly picked up the receiver on her side and said nothing.

"What? No hello or hi? Forgot us already?"

"How many days has it been?" Hermione questioned ignoring his question.

"Three months," Draco answered his tone dropped an octave. "And my wife missed you more than anything in this world. She laments that she's unable to make you feel the baby's bump or the whole new experience of back pains and swelling ankles. She says she's lost her listening ear and that I am no good. She wants you back."

"I told you not to come here. Ever," Hermione said, again apparently, ignoring everything Draco said.

"Never deny the wants of a seven months pregnant witch. It is a lesson learnt the hard way. I limped for three days before her stinging hex's effects faded."

Hermione bit her lips, her mind miles away from there.

"I miss her," she stated.

"We miss you too. She sent me because this interaction is going to be viewed in a pensive as soon as I go back." Draco smiled.

"Pre-fatherhood suits you." Hermione smiled fondly at Draco. "How is the mother to be?"

"Healthy but not so happy these days. She wants to complain her pains to you but you are missing. She says something like missing to avoid responsibilities."

Hermione laughed but there was sadness lurking behind her eyes.

"I don't understand. Why do this when you could have easily escaped this?"

Hermione's eyes lost focus and she looked down deeply contemplating something.

"I forgot why I came here," she replied softly.

"I can't believe this. Forgot? How does someone forget one is in a prison? A prison for crazies no less."

"When someone has sleepovers every other day, one does forget."

"Take back your words. I will Obliviate this piece out of the memory. Or else Astoria will kill me. And then kill you. You made friends here!" Draco accused her.

"They are fun," Hermione replied.

"You are dead, you know that? Astoria would feel so bad about this," Draco said as he placed his free hand on his heart and faked a sob.

"Stop it, you drama queen."

Draco laughed and then got a bit serious, "So when are you coming home?"

"When's the baby due?"

"Three more months then a date will be assumed."

"The time flew by."

"It did."

"And didn't even realise how long I resisted his manipulations. I didn't break even now." Hermione gave a small laugh.

"Who's trying to manipulate you?"

"You know this asylum?" Hermione began yet again ignoring his questions. It was a common thing for Draco so didn't complain nor he pushed her. He knew she answered when she wanted in her own sweet time. Hermione leant forward towards the glass and Draco mirrored her. Hermione whispered into the mouthpiece as if spilling the darkest secret of Arkham, "This place is run by crazies. This is a place for crazies, run by crazies so that the fittest crazy graces the streets of Gotham. And the chief psychiatrist thinks me to be his finest as of yet. He's trying to coheres me to do his unspoken bidding."

"And what are you doing?"

"Resisting."

"Why? You wanted to get rid of that chain of righteousness, didn't you?" Draco asked.

"I did. But why change at the whims of another. This is my life, my choice. I didn't break under Bellatrix. I wouldn't break under him."

"That's the Hermione I know and love," Draco said fondly.

"I love you too, honey," Hermione replied.

"Time's up!" the supervisory guard shouted.

"And don't forget this was your idea of a vacation," Draco reminded.

"Now I won't. Give my love to Tory. Women love extra loving I'll let you know," Hermione said and put her receiver down as did Draco.

The guard approached her and Draco gave her a flying kiss and walked out of the room escorted by the guard on his side. The guard removed her tasering cuffs and walked her to her cel- room.

Hermione was in a good mood. She couldn't let the situation influence her now, can she?

Hermione's latest session was three days ago and even now it seems her righteous shell hasn't cracked a bit. He had spotted the cracks himself- the guards had recorded her little episode of loss of self-control and now that girl had again bounced back into her same old infuriating righteous self. Hugo was getting irritated now. It was fun to have a challenge but this was going a bit too far. He couldn't afford to devote all his time on this. But then again, masterpieces took more time and effort. That is why they are called master piece. He took out Hermione's file and read was reading through the notes and reports when there was a knocking on the door.

"Come in," he replied.

Ethel poked her head in, "Sir, you better come and see this."

Hugo walked to the morgue and found there was a slight crowd of the regular coroners around a table. As he entered, the crowd of five parted him to allow him in. there he saw an ordinary body lying his body covered by a white sheet up to his waist. What were out of the ordinary were the distinct brownish green veins in places where veins are as if someone coloured each and every vein of his. And then there was that pristine lotus blooming out of his parted mouth.

"Poison Ivy," Ethel said confidently.

"We checked the CCTV recordings; she has been in her cell not moving from her place for the past three days. She's again in her catatonic, meditative state." An orderly replied.

"And we checked her cell too. She is not faking it. She's in her meditative state," Poison Ivy's regular physician replied.

"Odd," was the only word Hugo deemed appropriate for this incident.

That wasn't the last of it. Another body turned up beaten to death, his body turned into mush. Only the roll call revealed his identity. It seemed he was offed by being repeatedly pulverised by a human-sized mallet. The other was found tied up in razor sharp woollen yarns. That man had bled to death as every struggle against the yarns resulted in deeper cuts. What was common in all the deaths was that their profile files were given to patient 7842/B- Hermione Granger. But all these murders were done by her cellmates. But surprising at the time of the deaths the suspects were in their cells. This confirmed by the guards present near the cells themselves. Was Granger a mind controlling meta human? If yes, then when did she do this? Her cellmates never left their cells. This girl was getting out of control. She was becoming a headache for him. If the coming days yield no result, he's going to terminate her stay at Arkham. Pests need to be removed when they no longer live and let live.

"That was so fun!" Harley squealed as she swung in her now improved swing, thanks to Hermione.

"I am glad I got rid of that filth generator," Pamela added.

"And I am glad I got my revenge. That creep had tried to maul me when I got stuck in a particularly tight spot," Selina quipped.

"I am glad you guys had fun," Hermione said as she lounged in her settee.

"So when are you having your fun?" Harley asked. "It is only fair!"

"Soon, love. Soon." Hermione replied cryptically.

The next few days were monotonous and terse. Every inmate present was throwing back their minds to recall if they had any riff raff with any of the funky girls' squad. They might have forgotten why the girls were put under level red security but these recent incidents had jostled up their fear and respect for them. Hugo was at his wit's end. It seemed that sly minx had turned the table around. She was the puppeteer of her cellmates but she was yet to show her ace. Hugo always doubted if she was a victim of a conspiracy since he has never seen her in action nor could he instigate her into doing something. This thought had crossed his mind but Hugo didn't pay it much heed. But now he knew she wasn't a victim. She was a psychopath who had a moral code. She functioned when she thought there was a wrong doer roaming the streets free. He would have to hone her skill in this regard. People like this have a bad tendency of turning against their master. He couldn't stop that trickle of fear to run down his spine every time there was an unnatural death in the asylum. Did he break her here? Has he her maker? Or was she just a patient snake waiting for the right time to strike? He vowed to be careful from now on.

But it seemed she had struck first. He once again found himself accompanying Ethel to the morgue. This time the body that was lying on the examination table could be mistaken for a wax model only if the face didn't glaringly scream out to be one belonging to patient 3569/D. the one who's profile file Hugo had given to Hermione to instigate her. It seemed she was instigated enough.

So, all it took to get her into action were the offences of the wrong doer. He was right! She is a killer who kills other killers. He smiled a self-satisfied smile. It did unnerve Ethel but he really didn't care at this point. He had succeeded. But some glinting lines on the 'wax-ified' body caught his attention. He peered down and read-

Well Done!

Though, it was a weird move.

Now,

It's My Turn.

"And the guards?" Crane asked the orderly that delivered him news of Arkham. It didn't hurt to have minions of every type as long as they feared him.

"Dead. Brunt crisp. CCTV footage was the only thing that confirmed it was Jones and Matt."

Jonathan merely hummed in reply. The orderly then went away from there.

That woman had intrigued him since the first time he had seen her during the riot. It was a blatant fact that she didn't belong here. She was way too classy for that. But at the same time, she fit in right here. That Bat wouldn't know what hit him when he will come across this woman. Crane smirked. He took pleasure from the fact that he was the one who got under her skin and brought forth her beast. Not to mention, she was a good kisser too. Maybe after they both got out of here, they could collaborate? Who knows what the future stores for them? His mood was way to jolly to be darkened by the everyday jeers and leers from the petty ones here. She would be his finest to date. The finest. The one who conquered her fear. He was impressed. He smirked at the whole time as he took his breakfast. It unnerved many but then again when didn't he unnerve people? That petite thing didn't get scared. She accepted the fear, accepted her hallucinations and reasoned with them. She reasoned with her fear. And when that private time was violated by those dim witted guards, she was nemesis herself.

Of course, she had a problem dealing it with it at first. But her comeback was admirable. She didn't act upon her basic instinct- she didn't give up nor did she hide from it. She chose to rise above it. She confronted it and made peace with it. She accepted it. Like he did. She was one fine diamond in this rough. She has just begun shining. He wanted her beside him.

"—and there was a visitor for her." That was the only part Crane heard when he came out of his revere.

"Who?"

"By the looks of it? A lover."

"What?"

"She seemed very happy to see him. 'Her face lit up when she saw him' happy."

Crane nodded and moved away from his window in the door.

He couldn't let anyone else lay a claim on her. She was his. He woke her up. He was her awakening and he would be her rise. If need be, he'll scare away the competitor. He was good at that. He wouldn't let this bird fly away. This one was his for taking.

His Hermione.

T.B.C...