A/N: Welcome, my dears! Some things are happening, development is progressing, all that good stuff that keeps a story going. I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for your support. You are loved. Such a simple statement, but an oh so powerful one. Never forget this. Your support keeps me motivated to continue this story.

Creating this story is done on a chapter by chapter basis (a.k.a. there is no plan) so if there are any events you do want to happen (or don't want to happen) feel free to speak up and make your voice heard. This goes for all future chapters. I'm almost as clueless as you, dear readers, which makes for an interesting story, to say the least.

I do so hope you enjoy this chapter as much as Dobby hoped for a sock.

Sunlight crept in through the blinds, settling on Hermione's face as she tried to sleep. She turned over, burying her face in the lumpy surface of her bed.

"Wake up!"

Startled, Hermione's head snapped up, eyes blearily scanning her apartment. Her gaze settled on a familiar figure, and as her vision came into focus, she couldn't help the mild surprise that coursed through her.

"You're never here in the morning," Hermione mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"There's a first time for everything. Get up," Bellatrix said, standing from the chair she was in and walking to the window.

"Why are you here? Last night wasn't enough to make you go away?" Hermione sat, her threadbare blanket pooling around her waist.

"We have work to do."

"There's no we," Hermione scoffed.

"Don't be stupid," Bellatrix said, turning to face the young witch.

"I'm not. There's no we, there's never been we. It's always been just me, from the day I left to now. Just go away," Hermione growled.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Bellatrix asked.

"There's nothing to get," Hermione said, throwing off the covers and swinging her legs onto the floor.

"No?" Bellatrix asked, a smirk playing at her lips.

"No," Hermione said definitively, but even she could hear the trickle of doubt.

"Then why is it me who comes to you when you're at your loneliest? Why is it me and not someone else? Someone that cared about you."

Hermione didn't answer, and Bellatrix took the opportunity to move closer. "Tell me! Why, of all people, is it me?"

"Because I hate you!" Hermione shouted, standing from the bed.

"Try again," Bellatrix laughed.

Hermione ground her teeth, fighting the urge to throw something. "I'm not playing this game with you. With me."

"This isn't a game," Bellatrix responded.

"Everything is a game with you," Hermione said, turning away from the older witch and moving to find her cloak.

"This isn't a game," Bellatrix repeated, reaching out to stop Hermione by her arm.

Hermione blinked as a hand that shouldn't exist wrapped around her arm. "You aren't real."

"I'm as real as you make me, and you can't actually tell the difference," Bellatrix whispered.

"Because I don't want anyone else," Hermione admitted, pulling her arm harshly out of Bellatrix's grasp.

Bellatrix laughed, leaning against the window while Hermione stood stunned. She looked at her arm, at the distance between them. She blinked, her brain unable to process the difference between what was real and what wasn't.

"Why do you like fighting with yourself so much, pet?" Bellatrix asked, amused.

Hermione couldn't find the words to respond, her mouth opening and closing. Angrily, she stomped in the direction of the shower, hoping that Bellatrix would be gone by the time she was finished. She had no such luck, though. As she pulled her shirt over her head, Bellatrix came into view, leaning casually against the door frame.

"Oh, good, you're finished. Let's get going, shall we? Lots of work to do," Bellatrix said cheerily, seeming to forget their earlier altercation.

"Why are you so excited about this?" Hermione asked, annoyed. Bellatrix didn't deign to answer her, instead pushing off the doorframe and beckoning Hermione to follow. Growling, Hermione stomped after her, angrily throwing open her sorry excuse of a front door to reveal a letter addressed plainly to her. The handwriting was familiar, but through the haze of anger, she couldn't determine why. Ripping it open, Hermione skimmed through the words on the parchment.

My dearest Hermione,

I have missed you so much these past years. It has taken me some time to track you down, but I've not once stopped looking. So much has changed since you left. I know you it was for your own reasons, and I know I've no right to know. I debated for some time whether to write you. I know if you wanted to hear from me you would have written, but I cannot let my favorite student and the closest thing I have to a daughter disappear without trying. If you do not wish to respond, I understand. I know things were very hard for you after the war, and I know you wished for space to sort things out. I can only hope that this letter is well-received and you will respond. I will not intrude on your life, but know I still care for you deeply and hold on to the hope that one day you'll decide to return. Regardless, your location is safe with me. I will not pass the information to your former friends unless you express the desire for me to. I respect your decision and privacy, just know that I have not forgotten about you, and you are always welcome in my home and at Hogwarts, should you choose to come back.

With love,

Minerva McGonagall

Hermione let the letter drop to the floor, a mumbled profanity leaving her lips. She had been so careful! Had made sure no one knew her identity. Did she want to be found? Did she want to go back?

"Oooh, looks like the kitty sniffed you out," Bellatrix teased.

"Shut up," Hermione ground out, leaving the letter on the floor as she stormed out of her apartment, Bellatrix's laugh trailing after her.

Hermione grimaced at the sunlight, pulling the hood of her cloak further down in an attempt to block some of the light. She was acutely aware of the necklace in her pocket and with her injured hand she pulled it out. The pendant caught the sunlight, giving it the appearance of slithering. Hermione waited until its motion stilled, wondering how her charm would manifest. As the necklace came to rest, she felt a slight pulling sensation from the pendant and allowed herself to follow it. Bellatrix soon joined her, walking alongside Hermione, the only company from her old life she had for the past four years. It had been terrible at first, she was tormented by the woman her mind had created. As time passed, she had grown numb to it, to everything. Anger was the only thing she could consistently feel. Hermione knew she had fallen far from where she was. She used to be so much more, she was just tired of it all. Even now, she was growing tired of her life. She would need a change soon, more than a new task that would surely prove too easy. Was she really ready to go back? She could barely remember what her old friends looked like. She had spent so much time trying to forget them. Bellatrix was the only one she could fully remember, but that was because she was almost always there.

"Look alive, pet, no need to think too much," Bellatrix said, bringing Hermione back to her senses.

Hermione scoffed, but she did notice the pendant was starting to shift direction. And Bellatrix was right, there was no need to think too much, it always pushed her closer to breaking down. Some things just shouldn't be dwelt on, and maybe her old life was one of those things. Hermione shot a glance at Bellatrix, the older witch different from their first encounter, but in many ways still the same. She hummed a tune Hermione didn't recognize as she walked beside the young girl, the odd passerby going right through her. Hermione reminded herself that this wasn't actually Bellatrix, that the real woman was dead.

"What do you say when you find what you're looking for? You're creaky?" Bellatrix asked, drawing Hermione out of her thoughts once more.

Following her line of sight, Hermione's eyes landed on the person she was looking for, the person who looked so much like...Hermione cut off her thoughts. "Eureka."

As clear as day, which was quite annoying to Hermione, was the woman from the photograph. A little older, perhaps, but definitely the same woman. Hermione approached, but kept her distance as she observed the woman. Silently, she followed the woman until Bellatrix began to grow restless, causing Hermione to become irate. Hermione's eyes flicked over the dark hair and eyes, the pale skin, the red lips. Growing closer, her eyes picked out all the flaws. The slight pockmarks, the clear presence of lipstick, and eyes more brown than black. The skin was nowhere near as pale as she first thought. She had imagined it. The resemblance. Really, this woman looked nothing like her, and Hermione was surprised she ever thought there was ever any resemblance. Even the basic features were nothing alike. Everything was different. Her mind really was fucked up.

The woman caught sight of Hermione approaching, and almost made to run, but she sighed, giving herself in to her fate. She held an arm out to Hermione, who took it, ready to cast whatever she needed to make sure the woman didn't disappear on her. Hermione removed the charm from the necklace, placing it in the other woman's hand along with the photograph. A sigh came from the woman, the kind that expressed the same emotion Hermione herself was struggling with. Perhaps it was time to go back.