AN: Thank you for all the wonderful comments and I hope you continue to enjoy my story. Special thanks to my alpha reader ladeedaa and beda reader astrangefan without whom I could not write.

The Dirty Dancing Hypothesis

Neville was the first to arrive - after Hermione that was. She'd almost been late, but of course she planned ahead - which was why she was never late. Apparently, though, surrounded herself with friends and acquaintances that would be late to their own funerals.

"Hullo," he said in the same cheerful way he always had. "Luna will be by in a bit. She's just finishing up the morning's edition of The Quibbler."

"That's fine," Hermione said, smiling. "Anything new at Hogwarts?"

Neville heaved a sigh, "I can't tell you how many Fifth Years I've caught in the Astronomy Tower on rounds, Hermione. I'm tempted to obliviate myself. Please assure me that we were much more discreet about playing 'hide the wand'."

Hermione giggled. "I'd love to, but I very much doubt we were."

"I should say not," Ginny said, sliding into the booth next to Hermione. "Though, I wasn't exactly playing 'hide the wand' if you know what I mean."

Neville's ears turned pink and Hermione laughed again. "I suppose not," he conceded.

Hermione leaned over to give her friend a hug - it had been ages since she'd seen Ginny, what with Ginny's quidditch schedule and Hermione's work schedule. "Is Morgana coming tonight?"

"Oh no," Ginny said, waving off the idea as if it were an errant fly buzzing around the table. "No Morgana anymore. Back to playing the field." It was something Ginny did often. She didn't seem interested in or suited for monogamy, in Hermione's estimation.

Ron joined them next, then Luna, then Harry and Parvati - though the latter two seemed as if they had breathlessly remembered they had friends to meet after coming down from the highs of a quick shag. "Your robes are buttoned crooked, mate," Ron indicated toward Harry's chest, trying his level best not to burst into fits of laughter.

"Is Padma coming?" Hermione asked Parvati, who was still blushing furiously. She was happy to help a friend out of an awkward situation. As a friend of Ron Weasley, it was hardly the first time.

"Yes," she said. "She has so much free time now that she's working for a very important Unspeakable." There was a knowing smile playing at the edge of her lips as Parvati winked at her.

Hermione realised she'd probably left the brilliant Padma rather bored. She had her on call, but rarely needed her - at least not yet. Padma appeared moments later as if she was summoned by the mere thought of her, and the group ordered drinks.

As per usual, people broke off into their own side discussions. Hermione was situated between Ginny on one side and Ron on the other and the two of them were arguing about something - they usually were. Hermione's mind was elsewhere, as it had been the last time they all got together.

This time, though, it was on the two men back at home whom she left with the television and a VHS tape of Dirty Dancing - literally the only thing she could find. It had been her favourite movie as a child. She'd watched it three times in one day one summer. However, the thought of Malfoy and Theo sitting with a bowl of popcorn between the two of them watching Johnny and Baby dance to songs from the 1950s was something she was a bit sad she was missing.

"Oi, earth to Hermione!" Padma was waving her hand in the air as if to get her attention and she sat up straighter.

"Pardon?"

"We were talking about the Prophet article - if you can even call it that," Padma spat the last part out as if the very idea of the article offended her to the core of her soul.

"Oh," Hermione frowned.

"Did you really fire Azkaban's Healer?" Parvati asked.

"Not exactly," Hermione replied. "When I went to meet with one of the inmates - female," she clarified, "it became apparent she was afraid to be alone with the man. So, I told the Warden I didn't want him to interact with the inmates. I had Rilla contact St. Mungo's for a new Healer. They won't go without."

"You just told the Warden that?" Neville asked. He seemed impressed.

Hermione wondered if this was her opportunity to get her friends to take a bit more interest in criminal justice. "The case I'm working on, it involves some prisoners there," Hermione began. "I'll be going into the prison about once a week for the foreseeable future. I don't know if any of you have been inside…"

Everyone but Harry and Ron shook their heads in unison. "It's horrifying," Hermione said seriously. And she was not overstating it in the least. "They don't know what time of day it is. Merlin, they don't even know what month it is. They don't know when they will get food or water. They are never bathed or even hit with cleansing charms. Ever. Their teeth are in horrible shape. I don't know how any of them last more than a month inside there."

"Well, it's meant to be prison," Ron pointed out. When he saw the look on her face, he held up both hands in a placating manner. "I'm not saying I agree with it. But it is prison, and most of the people in there are Death Eaters. The ones who aren't, are serial murderers, child rapists. It's for the worst of the worst," Ron pointed out.

"Why did we get rid of the Dementors?" Hermione countered.

"Because they defected to Voldemort," Neville answered for Ron.

"That's probably the real reason, yes," Hermione conceded. "But why did we tell the world we got rid of the Dementors?" She answered her own question, "Because the existence of the Dementors was driving the population of the prison mad. Because it was like being dead - living with them surrounding you all the time."

She took a breath and continued on. "What's happening at the prison might be worse than the Dementors because it's being done by humans. The way people are treated there - it's not just inhumane to the inmates, it corrupts the guards as well."

There was a long silence while her friend chewed over what she'd said. "The UK does have an unbearable history where this is concerned," Luna finally said. "In France and the Netherlands, the maximum-security prisons are much different. There is an entire branch of government that oversees the security of those prisons, and that branch is also held responsible for the health and safety of all inmates."

"It's hard to feel sorry for Death Eaters," Neville pointed out.

"I know," Hermione said. "That's precisely why they get away with it. But if you decide who is and isn't entitled to basic human dignity - even if it is based on the actions of the person losing those rights - you are playing a dangerous game. It would cost money to fix the prison, but not so much that it can't be done. We are talking about, what, one-hundred-and-fifty prisoners? It's not prohibitively expensive to insure the care of that many people in safe, humane conditions."

"It's a good point," Parvati said, tapping her chin with her finger. "But any amount of money spent on criminals is not easy to sell to the public."

Hermione smiled at that. Exactly. That was her large hurdle, and she was glad Parvati had picked up on it so quickly. "You are right," she admitted.

"There will be more articles like this," she warned her friends. "I can't make the public care, but I can do my best to make life hard for the people with the power to change things. I'm sure the good Warden will hate my guts after a few months."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Ginny said. Her tone was warm, and her confidence humbled Hermione. At least, if nothing else, her friends didn't want to fight her on this.

"I can write some articles in The Quibbler about this, if you don't mind going on record about the conditions of the prison and your experiences with the management there," Luna offered.

Hermione thanked her and then looked to Harry who had been noticeably quiet. He had, out of everyone at the table, the most political capital. If he was with her, it would make at least the reform of the prison significantly more likely.

"You know I'm with you," Harry said, earnestly. "Narcissa Malfoy saved my life and she still ended up there." She knew he'd fought hard to stop that, but that the Wizengamot had been emotional and rash in the days following the War. "Is it really - do you think she's being mistreated?"

Hermione gave him a look that said she'd talk to him about it later, and then she nodded. "Everyone in the prison is being mistreated."

"I owe her a life debt," Harry said. Parvati's hand wrapped around his back as she pulled him closer, as if to say that she'd never let him be subject to that kind of danger again. Hermione loved that he had someone to take over her job of keeping him safe - keeping him well.

Hermione knew he'd felt he owed Narcissa, but she hoped she could utilise that information to get Harry to eventually help her free Malfoy as well. It would be a tough sell. Harry's hatred of Draco was legendary and very often irrational. But as he looked at her with conviction about Narcissa's status within Azkaban, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe she'd have an ally in clemency for her two charges - currently in her parents' home watching her Muggle TV.

"You realise, the two of you just keep cooking up one headache after another for Kingsley, right?" Ron finally said, cutting the tension as he always had been adept at doing.

"Poor Kings," lamented Ginny.

As was typical, the group parted ways a few at a time. First Ginny left because she had an early practice. Then, Padma left to do some research on numbing spells - which Hermione thanked her profusely for. As Neville and Luna were about to leave, Hermione asked if she could speak to Neville on the way out.

"Is there anything new with the Dark Energy at the school?" she asked him, trying to sound casual - but she knew immediately she'd sounded too eager for information to pull it off. It was true that her Hogwarts project was on the back burner, but she couldn't help herself. No amount of distraction could change that she was still worried about what was happening at the school.

Neville looked at her for a long moment. "You are the Unspeakable assigned to the case, aren't you?" She nodded. That wasn't a secret.

"Well," he started, "it is interesting. The intensity of the magic ebbs and flows. Today, for instance, it has been incredibly weak. But some days it is so strong you can feel it radiating past the wards."

"Hmmm," Hermione said. "Would you mind just keeping me in the loop about that. I don't want to put you out. If it's too much, please tell me. But if you could just send me an Owl when there are big changes and note the time…"

"Of course," Neville said, his eyes shining with excitement at being important to her work. "It's nothing at all. I'm out by the Forbidden Forest every day foraging anyway."

"Thanks, Neville." She gave him a tight hug then said her goodbyes to Luna, promising to allow her to interview for a piece in The Quibbler about Azkaban.

Back at the table it was just Harry and Ron. "Parvati went home," Harry said. It was a sort of unspoken understanding by the group that Harry, Ron, and Hermione liked to have one last drink together alone when they could manage it. The bond between the three had not been damaged by the fumbling sex between Hermione and Ron in the year following the war. It had not lessened as the years passed and they went their separate ways through life and career. The bond they shared was stronger than siblings, and sometimes they just needed each other.

"Narcissa," Harry said. He didn't go on, and Hermione knew that he'd been waiting for everyone to leave to ask after the older Witch.

"She's one of the inmates I was there to see that day," Hermione began.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked. Ron sipped his drink and looked back and forth between the two of them as if he was observing a tennis match.

"Nothing, exactly. She's not the subject of my research, but her participation is helpful," she said cryptically. "She's frail, underfed, her mind is fragile. She does receive medication for that - but without her mind being occupied the medication will only do so much. She was unbathed just like the rest."

"Is she the one who the Healer was being inappropriate with?" Harry asked, the hand around his glass clinching so hard Hermione felt sure he'd break it.

"Yes," she answered. Ron gasped next to her but said nothing.

"What do you need, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure, yet," she admitted. She'd just begun to realise the task she was undertaking. "I had just hoped to get your support initially."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to get Narcissa clemency than revamp the entire prison?" Ron asked, reasonably.

"It might be," Hermione agreed. "And, ultimately, I do want Narcissa to be released on time served. However, it won't fix the bigger problem. I know this is a life debt for you, Harry, but it is much more than that to me."

"I get it, Hermione," Harry said, raising his hand as if to say, 'you don't have to convince me'. "I nearly died - we all did - to live in a world where some semblance of fairness and justice exists. It's easy to be fair and just to people you like. The measure of a society is being fair and just to those you don't."

Hermione couldn't help it. Tears began to well up in her eyes. He got it. He really, fucking got it. She wasn't going to have to show him charts and graphs. She wasn't going to have to agonise over how to humanise Death Eaters to him. The relief that washed over her gave her actual gooseflesh. A weight lifted off her chest and she turned her attention to Ron.

"Do you get why I have to do this?" she asked. He was quiet for a moment. He was selecting his words carefully. She knew because she'd seen him do it before.

"I do," he finally said. "I suppose I'm not as progressive as either of you. I don't lose sleep over Death Eaters living a miserable existence, but I do understand that there is a slippery slope. I'm sure some of Voldemort's more tepid supporters started out not seeing what the big deal was with hurting Muggles. Then it became Muggleborns. Then it became Half-bloods and so on. It's like the Tottenham's Window or whatever it's called."

Hermione snorted. "The Overton Window," she corrected.

"Right. That. If you can dehumanise one group, you can dehumanise any group eventually."

Hermione decided not to bring up Malfoy or Nott. First of all, she wasn't sure how she could explain the situation to either of her friends without giving away too much of her confidential case. Secondly, she'd won a major victory and had no intention of overplaying her hand. When she presented her idea of clemency to her two best friends, she wanted to be armed with so much evidence they'd have to agree with her.

It was late when Hermione got back to the house. She noticed that it was dark in Malfoy and Nott's room, but the flickering glow of the television indicated that either the movie was still on or one of them had figured out how to work the antenna.

She peeked in and saw Theo dead asleep and Malfoy sitting up in bed, watching the late-night news of all things. His eyes lazily flitted up to her, having obviously sensed her presence. He pressed the mute button on the remote. She took that as her invitation to come in.

Hermione knew it was long past midnight, and also remembered that Malfoy had said he didn't sleep well. "Can't sleep?" she said, stupidly. Obviously.

"I rarely do," he said, simply.

"Well," Hermione said with a sigh, pulling her desk chair out and settling it next to his bed, "I've been dying to know. How did you like Dirty Dancing?" She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she thought about the two of them watching it.

He rolled his eyes immediately. "Theo loved it." He batted his eyelashes and clutched his hands in front of him as if imitating a lovesick schoolgirl, "Oh, it's so romantic, Draco. They weren't supposed to be together, but they fell in love anyway!"

Hermione chuckled lightly so as not to wake the man in question. "You know, I was obsessed with that movie as a child," she admitted. "It's probably why it's the only tape still in the house."

"It wasn't dancing," Malfoy said. "It was fucking with their clothes on. Dancing requires skill."

"You don't think that what they were doing required skill?" she countered incredulously. She immediately thought of all the times she'd demanded her father lift her exactly as Johnny lifted Baby in the movie. She'd convinced herself she'd become a dancer one day. Her lack of rhythm was a much-lamented travesty.

"Anyone can rut against someone else like a kneazle in heat," he replied, his tone imperious.

Hermione snorted. "Okay," she said, rolling her own eyes. No use arguing with him. Malfoy seemed to think he knew every Merlin-be-damned thing. "Well, anyway, I'll try to acquire entertainment more to your liking. I guess it's just Nott and I who respect a good love story."

Malfoy looked at her for a long moment - almost as if he was trying to decipher her like she was a code. 'I'm a bit shocked you would go for all that,' he finally said.

"All what?" she asked, confused.

"Love," he finally said as if the word burned him on the way out of his mouth. He shivered audibly just to make sure she knew exactly how terrible he thought the idea.

What?

"What is love?" he said, sitting up straighter, crossing both legs in front of himself on the bed and resting his elbows on his knees.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer automatically, but she got the distinct feeling he was trying to lead her into an answer that she'd have to amend later. "Love is a feeling of deep affection," she answered in a way she didn't think he could poke holes through.

"Thank you, for the dictionary definition. What I mean is, what exactly is it?" He didn't really wait for her to answer because he already had an answer in mind. "People 'fall in love' in two ways. Either they are forced together and grow to love one another because they become comfortable and rely on each other - they form trust. Or, the sexier version of love - it's a fleeting infatuation driven by a reaction in your brain that sets off a reaction in your…" he seemed to all of a sudden realise he was about to allude to his own penis and let her draw her own conclusions instead.

"That's very cynical."

"I would have expected a swot like you to be that cynical about something as imaginary as love. Shall I tell you that Crumple-Horned Snorkbacks are also not real?" He was teasing her. But she wasn't sure she was comfortable with this kind of teasing relationship - not with him. Not yet. There was too much history.

"Love has a chemical component," she argued back. "Pheromones exist. Love between a mother and a child is quantifiable - brain scans can prove love is real."

He waved her off immediately. "Parental love is something entirely different. That's not love either. It's obligation. It's a biological imperative."

"You can't just say, 'that doesn't count'," Hermione sputtered. "You say love doesn't exist. Then, when provided with the evidence that it does, you simply shift the goal post."

He seemed as alive as she'd ever seen him as his eyes shined and he worked out a counter to her argument. "Love isn't a feeling. The kind of 'love' between Baby and Johnny was lust. They wanted to fuck. And yes, it's all very romantic that he was poor and she was rich. He was 'the help' and she was the pampered and sheltered daughter of a wealthy Healer. But six months out, what does that relationship look like? They've fucked like drunk pixies for the rest of the summer then she goes back to her life, and he goes back to whatever it is that he does when he's not teaching people to dance at some bizarre summer camp."

Hermione conceded the point. "Sure. In a ninety-minute movie, those two people didn't really fall in love. Their future is certain to be a disaster. But the point of movies like this is to present a fantasy ideal. You've argued love doesn't even exist. That's something else, entirely."

"Love doesn't exist. And if it did, how much does it even matter. Let's say you love someone. What does that mean for you? Will you make them happy? Will you stay by their side through thick and thin? Will you die for them?" He asked in rapid fire.

"Of course," Hermione said. "That is what love is."

"No, those are actions," Draco said, and his face looked as if he was finally coming to his point. She loathed when someone led her into a conclusion like this - and what was worse is, she'd known he was doing it all along.

"Love, as an emotion, is useless," he continued. "What does the emotion 'love' do for anybody? Perhaps a momentary comfort, or an easing of insecurity. Beyond that, what use does anyone have for someone else's love?

"Love as an action - well, that's where things get interesting. Two different people can claim to be acting in love and come to two radically different conclusions. One might keep his partner locked away - out of sight - because he doesn't wish her to be harmed, or because he is jealous. That's love as an act."

Hermione interrupted him immediately. "No," she shook her head vigorously. "That's possession. That's jealousy. That's not love."

"But to him, it is. It's how he expresses love."

She pursed her lips. She couldn't agree with him less.

"On other hand, another man might worship at his partner's feet, offer her anything she could desire. Dote on her in public and private. But those are all acts as well."

She didn't want to admit it, but she was somewhat swayed by his argument. Of course, she did believe in love, but it was also true that love as an act was far more important than as an emotion.

What she wondered, more than anything, was how they got to debating the definitions and importance of the concept of love - either the emotion or the action - at one o'clock in the morning after his inaugural viewing of Dirty Dancing.

She couldn't contemplate it for long because after a moment of silence stretched between them, Malfoy let out a sharp gasp, fell back onto his pillows, and began convulsing. 'Grrrrnn,' he tried to say her name, but his jaw was clenched tight as his body shook violently.

Seconds later, Theo started convulsing too. Hermione, being closest to Malfoy, wrapped her arms around him and turned him over on his side, pressing his body into the bed with her own, hoping the pressure of her body weight could somehow lessen the conclusions. His hand blindly reached out and grabbed hers and she hissed as she realised he'd probably broken one of her fingers in the process.

Fuck!

"Hold on, Theo," she cried, not knowing how to care for both of them at once. Malfoy's grip was too tight to pull out of. She used her one free hand to grab for her wand and unsheathed it from her thigh holster.

"Expecto Patronum!"

She instructed her otter to find Padma immediately. Sweat formed on Malfoy's brow as she felt his body temperature rising quickly. She aimed her wand at him and cast a cooling spell before it got dangerously high.

"Come on, Malfoy," she said, her voice shaking with panic.

He still had her left hand in his grip, his fist clenched around it, and she couldn't have pulled it free even if the pain were more bearable. To get a better angle she placed her knee on the bed and hoisted herself onto it with him, one leg on either side of his body. "Malfoy, can you hear me? One to ten?"

"Tnnnn," he bit out. She was worried about Theo. He needed to be on his side. Too much time was passing with him convulsing without assistance.

"Hermione!" Padma's voice called as she heard footsteps run up the stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank Merlin.

"They are convulsing from pain. Take care of Theo," Hermione instructed. "Tell me what to do with Malfoy."

Padma moved into immediate action. She turned Nott over on his side and pulled the blankets off his body. "Sleeping Draught," she said, already pouring it down Theo's throat.

"I can't move," Hermione said, "He's got my hand. He can't let go."

Padma quickly hurried over to Hermione and inspected Malfoy for a moment before giving him the potion too. His hand finally went slack, and Hermione hissed as he let her go.

"What's wrong?" Padma asked, demanding her hand at once.

"I think he dislocated a finger or something," Hermione said, holding her hand out to Padma. She was still straddling Malfoy but couldn't bring herself to care. It wasn't like he'd notice. Besides, she was still trying to get her heart to return to normal.

"It's broken," Padma said, "Let me get my bag."

Hermione took the opportunity to gently climb off Malfoy and off the bed entirely. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. A ten. This was the pain she'd been trying to mentally prepare for, but she'd been caught off guard when it happened.

Worse than crucio.

Why did it happen to both of them at the same time? The Marks had to be linked. She'd already theorised that was a possibility but hadn't yet had the evidence. She needed to contact the Warden at once. She had to know if the other subjects were having episodes at the same time. She pulled her hand out of Padma's grasp, but the other woman held her wrist tight.

"I'm not finished," she said tersely.

"I need to write to…"

"You need to mend your bloody hand or you are no use to anyone," Padma countered. "I've already vanished the bone. Here, take this," she said, offering Hermione a tiny vial of Skele-gro. "I'll keep it splinted until the bone grows back. It ensures no crooked fingers. I would have just fixed the bones, but they were misaligned after his grip got hold, and I don't want to risk repairing them in such a way that might limit mobility."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Pads." She was familiar with Skele-gro after 10 years of friendship with Harry and Ron. She patiently allowed Padma to splint her finger.

"Can you manage?" she asked the Healer. "I need to send off some letters."

"I'll be fine," Padma said, shooing her toward the door.

Hermione hurried to her room and quickly sent an urgent query to Azkaban about the other Marked prisoners. Then she hurried down to her dad's study, taking the stairs two at a time. She had to do something about this pain, and she couldn't keep knocking them out. Maybe Malfoy didn't care about becoming dependent, but she did. If she was to help him have a life, she wanted that life to be one not encumbered with the problems of a Sleeping potion addiction.

She knew acetaminophen nor ibuprofen would do the trick. Nor did she want to swap out a potion addiction for a opioid addiction - besides, she didn't have a clue how she'd even get her hands on opioids. She did have an idea, but she wanted to check into it first. She needed access to the internet, though. She just hoped her dad's old computer still worked and that the land line it was attached to was still connected.

It took forever. Hermione thought she might grow old as she waited for the computer to boot up, then she had to figure out which icon connected her to the web browser. From there it was an infinite wait for the connection to go through, but when it did Hermione nearly wept with relief.

She was, admittedly, a novice with the internet. She'd been incredibly curious about it, but making Muggle tech work in the Magical world was a headache that required no fewer than three Ministry-granted permits. She'd always talked about getting a computer, but never seemed to get around to it. She was grateful to be in the Muggle world at the moment. The most up-to-date scientific information about this particular topic wouldn't be found in her parents' dusty old medical books.

After what seemed like an eternity, she was taken to the main search browser. Her mother had schooled her in the ways of deciphering legitimate information and utter bullshit so as she typed in 'Cannabis effect on pain' she knew she'd probably have to scroll through endless pseudoscientific bullshit before she got to actual research and blind studies.

"Ah ha!" she found a good source and clicked.

'Cannabinoids have shown significant promise in basic experiments on pain. Peripheral nerves that detect pain sensations contain abundant receptors for cannabinoids, and cannabinoids appear to block peripheral nerve pain in experimental animals.'

"Hmm," she hummed to herself continuing to read.

'But because of the ethical and logistical difficulties of conducting pain experiments on human volunteers, marijuana's potential to relieve pain has yet to be conclusively confirmed in the clinic.'

She sighed. She read further, other studies, newer studies. It appeared the evidence was inconclusive. While some studies showed marginal pain relief, others showed relief on par with opioids. Still others showed no relief at all. The issue seemed to be with the lack of research into the topic. There just weren't, yet, enough studies.

But biologically, THC did interact with pain receptors, and Hermione was growing desperate. It might be worth trying if only because it wasn't addictive and showed pain relief beyond that of over-the-counter options available to her.

She decided to ask Padma her opinion, as a Magical Healer. She trudged back upstairs; a bit disappointed that her theory hadn't ended up being the perfect solution to her problem.

Padma was flipping through a magazine, her legs crossed, on Hermione's desk chair when she got back to the room. "I checked them over and there is no brain damage," she said as Hermione entered the room. "Their fevers are under control for now, but I'm concerned. Nott was at 104 when I arrived."

"Malfoy's was rising when I hit him with a cooling charm," Hermione supplied. "One minute we were talking and then…"

"That's how it goes sometimes," Padma said, sadly. She shut the magazine and put it back on Hermione's desk. It was a very old copy of a Muggle teen magazine she'd probably left there sometimes in Fourth Year.

"I do have something for you, though," Padma said with a smile. "I've got a list of three different numbing spells that are used in the Hospital for amputations. I think they might work in this case."

"Thank you so much," Hermione breathed. She felt like hugging her friend but refrained.

"I'll be back in the morning to check on them and your finger," she said.

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted.

"Regardless," Padma replied.

"I did want to ask one more thing," Hermione said, stopping her before she left. "I've been considering utilising cannabis as a way to manage pain. It has mixed reviews in the Muggle world, do you know if it's ever been used Magically?"

"I'm not sure," Padma said, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as if she were trying to recall everything she'd ever read in her entire life. "It would probably be a better question for a Potioneer. I know that one of the things in Sleeping Draught that makes it so addictive is the poppies - which are, as you know, an ingredient in Muggle heroin and morphine."

Hermione nodded. "So, it's possible that there are already magical potions that use it. And if not, perhaps it might be time to give it a try," she supplied.

"If you do go that route," Padma began, "I'd prefer to be here. Some things that are harmless to Muggles can have a different effect on Magical folk. If there were to be a reaction, I'd want to be nearby."

Hermione nodded again. That was wise. "Certainly. It's just a running theory for the moment. I think I can get my hands on some, but I'd have to speak to Malfoy and Nott about consent - it is ethically questionable to use them as lab rats when they have little other choice in the matter."

"Sure," Padma agreed. "Well, I'm off. I'll see you in the morning." Hermione smiled and said her goodbyes before turning back to the men asleep in the room. At least Malfoy would get some sleep again.

"Bloody bird," Hermione grumbled getting out of bed to let in the Owl she was currently regretting borrowing from the Ministry.

Just leave the post like a normal owl.

But when she saw that one of the letters was from Warden Hoganis at Azkaban, she was immediately wide awake.

Ripping open the envelope she read the contents eagerly.

All the Marked inmates experienced an increased level of pain around the same time. The guards didn't note the time. The episode lasted nearly an hour before they calmed.

Warden Hoganis

Hermione gasped. They were linked. She wondered why the pain wasn't always linked. Sometimes Theo would have a bad day and Malfoy wouldn't, or Malfoy would have an episode while Theo was fine. What made this one affect them all?

It was a frustrating problem. She got answers in drips, and they never seemed to give her insights she could use.

The second letter was from Neville.

Hermione,

I just wanted to let you know there was a particularly strong wave of Dark Energy that emanated from the spot near the Forbidden Forest last night about an hour after I left the pub. Filch's new familiar nearly died of a heart attack as she walked passed. It was almost like it was reaching out for her. Bloody weird.

Hope this helps,

Neville.

Hermione read it and reread it. Holy shite. Yes, Neville. That helps.