Hermione huffed as she walked around the castle in her nightly walk, thinking of the past week. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her deep into the earth over the whole William White thing. After the strange meeting a few days before, she had grilled Neville, Flitwick, even Krum – all of them had assured her that what Black and McGonagall had told her was quite true. The young Muggleborn was doing just fine, it seemed. Except in her class.

Part of her felt hurt – surely William could understand; he had to be aware that she was only trying to help him.

Although perhaps setting Gryffindor Prefects after him was probably not the most brilliant strategy.

She sighed as she strolled over the beaten path leading to the school greenhouses. The full moon shone brightly enough that she had no need for a Lumos to guide her steps. Hermione enjoyed those midnight walks – they were a habit developed when she was still plagued by nightmares of a certain Death Eater. It had started as pacing her room like a caged animal, then it gradually evolved to full-blown walks around Muggle London. Being enveloped in the midst of Muggle nightlife, with its sounds and smells served as a blanket, cocooning her away from the furious scratching of a cursed knife and the screeched Cruciatus.

The walks were all she kept after therapy. Now they served less to shield her from her nightmares and more as a way to relax and wind down from a busy day. She enjoyed the stillness of a Hogwarts night.

She was just passing one of the greenhouses kept by Neville when she noticed movement from within. Hermione sighed; so much for stillness.

The greenhouse in question was none other than the one reserved for Faculty. Since she was quite certain none of her colleagues would be down at this time of night, the intruders were bound to be some foolhardy students on a quest for adventure or pranks.

Hermione smirked as she unsheathed her wand and slowly made her way in; all they would get would be a deduction of points. Maybe a detention, since they dared interrupt the quietude of her midnight stroll, even if unwittingly.

The glass-paned space was a maze of greenery cast in the gloomy blue light of the full moon. Hermione almost scoffed at the chaotic nature of the place. How Neville was able to get any work done in such chaos was well and truly beyond her.

The young professor heard faint whispering coming from further back. She slowly and stealthily made her way in the direction of the sound, where Neville's worktables were situated. As she came and closer, she felt a strong smell of eucalyptus – soon followed by the sounds of a cauldron clearly on a boil and the snipping of gardening shears.

Who would be brewing potions in Neville's greenhouse? The Herbology professor was quite inept at potion-brewing, so there was very little reason for such an activity to be taking place in his domain.

Hermione was about to make her presence known to whomever was there after hours, when a sudden smattering of light made her stop in her tracks. There to the side, at Neville's workspace, patiently snipping the buds off a Monkshood plant, was Narcissa Black.

It took Hermione a second to realize that reflective gleam that stopped her was nothing other than Narcissa's platinum-blonde hair illuminated by moonlight. The witch was totally devoted to the task at hand, murmuring incantations as she gingerly collected the snipped buds in a large glass phial. The young professor noticed how the youngest Black's mesmerizing blue eyes seemed to glitter in concentration.

She looked nothing like the rest of her family, Hermione mused, thinking of one Black in particular. Bellatrix Lestrange's crazed eyes, dark as coal, would never stop haunting her for as long as she lived. Andromeda was practically a copy of her eldest sister; so much so Hermione had had difficulty interacting with the woman immediately after the war.

Narcissa was the polar opposite of the other two, with her light hair and eyes. While different, those eyes also haunted Hermione's dreams occasionally. They stared, unflinching, as Bellatrix Lestrange straddled and mutilated her; other times they gazed, moist with unshed tears, in the aftermath of it all.

Before she could stop to think about it, Hermione found herself face to face with those blue orbs as they found her within the bushes.

"Oh!" exclaimed Narcissa in surprise, dropping the phial she held in her delicate hands. The sound of shattering glass broke Hermione out of her musings.

"My apologies" she said regretfully, waving her wand over the mess that now sparkled on the ground. The phial reconstructed itself, the Monkshood buds falling neatly inside. With another wand-flick Hermione levitated it back into Narcissa's waiting hands. "I saw movement inside and… I thought students were breaking in." she explained.

Narcissa murmured her thanks, setting the phial down at one of the worktables, next to the bubbling cauldron Hermione had heard and smelled earlier. She seemed uneasy with the brunette, and silently worked on separating some of the buds she gathered for the brewing mixture.

"I didn't mean to interrupt" Hermione said, carefully stepping closer to the witch. She sniffed the air, the scent of eucalyptus definitively came from Narcissa's cauldron.

"What are you brewing, if you don't mind me asking?" she said, stepping over to the other side of the worktable to get a glimpse of the cauldron. Narcissa smiled slightly at the younger witch's curiosity.

"Wideye Potion" she said, carefully stirring the mixture. "I prefer to add fresh monkshood at this stage of brewing. My fifth years depleted my supply in class this morning, so Mr. Longbottom kindly offered some of his." Narcissa explained, waving her hand over the cauldron in a silent incantation.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"And the eucalyptus smell?" she asked. Wideye Potion was notoriously foul-smelling. Narcissa's smile widened.

"Eucalyptus oil masks the rather nauseating smell and taste of this potion. Not to mention, in the right quantities, it can counteract the jitters that often come as a side-effect to its ingestion."

Hermione could not suppress the expression of surprise at that little tidbit. She was not too bad a potion-maker herself, but the subject never fascinated her as much as most of the others she had studied at Hogwarts. She was a woman of results; she had not the patience to monitor potions over insanely long brew times or work out the minutia in ingredients – regardless of her precocious dealings with Polyjuice. So, while she vouched for the usefulness and tremendous importance of the discipline, she was more than satisfied with retaining her above-NEWT level of knowledge on it.

"Huh. I would not have thought of that." She confessed, genuinely impressed. Narcissa let out a chuckle.

"Come, now. I'm sure the Brightest Witch of Her Age would have thought of something." She said.

Hermione laughed.

"Maybe, but I was never too fond of Potions. It's a fascinating subject, just not my area of expertise."

Narcissa seemed shocked.

"Is that so? I would have thought you made any area your area of expertise."

"It wouldn't do to tarnish my image as the Brains of the Golden Trio now, would it? But between us two, I was never too keen on Divination either – don't tell anyone" Hermione said, glad that whatever initial tension there was previously had now evaporated.

"My lips are sealed" Narcissa said.

Hermione looked at the materials and ingredients spread out on the worktable, then up, towards the glass ceiling. One of the panes was open, showering the area with unobstructed moonlight.

"It's a beautiful moon." She commented.

Narcissa nodded her agreement. "Yes; I thought I would finish brewing in the moonlight. The full moon amplifies the magical properties of Monkshood; I expect this batch to be especially potent."

"For Wideye Potion, you said? Why are you brewing it; is it part of the curriculum?"

Narcissa paused the incantation she had been whispering over the smoke, hesitating.

"No" she finally said. "This batch is for my own use."

Hermione frowned at that. Generally, Wideye was used for awakening unconscious patients. Faints, sleeping potions, concussions, even as an antidote for the Draught of the Living Dead. She wondered what sort of use Narcissa would make of it.

"A certain amount of Wideye Potion prevents the drinker from sleeping." The blonde said, as if she had read Hermione's mind. The statement only served to further confuse the brunette, but Narcissa kept on. "I prefer it over a Dreamless Draught." She murmured, so low Hermione could barely hear her.

The younger witch's brow only furrowed more deeply at the statement. She had plenty of reasons to avoid sleep; she wondered what Narcissa's were. Probably some on the other side of the coin as her own.

"Additionally," Narcissa continued, looking at anywhere but Hermione "this potion, unlike the Dreamless Draught, has no addictive properties."

"Everyone needs sleep at some point." Hermione said, speaking from experience.

Narcissa shrugged.

"Indeed. Complete physical exhaustion is what makes the prolonged use of this potion an unwise decision. But once it comes to that… There is no need for a Dreamless Draught." She all but whispered.

A heavy silenced reigned for a few minutes. Hermione remembered how she'd gotten to the point of drinking five to six phials of Dreamless Draught every night – anything to stop the nightmares. She had it so often the customary half-phial was not cutting it; so she upped her dosage to one phial, then two, then three… When the Healers at St. Mungo's refused to prescribe it to her, she started brewing it herself. It was to this day the one and only potion she could make with absolutely no recipe – she knew it like the back of her hand.

"I used to take Dreamless Draught. Every night for a long time." She said, almost to herself.

"How long?"

"Two years."

"Merlin."

"Yeah…" the brunette said sheepishly. "Shouldn't have done it; I mean, I knew it is not meant to be used for more than a week, but… There was no other way to… The nightmares, they were just so real." She murmured, unsure how the conversation had gone in this taboo direction. She looked at Narcissa; she had stopped her potion-making.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I imagine you, of all people, have dreams you would rather forget." Narcissa whispered, so softly that Hermione wasn't sure she had meant to say it at all.

"Yes." She said simply. "What about you?" she asked, because damn her curiosity would never let her not ask it. "What sort of dreams make you chase sleep itself away?"

Narcissa let out a bitter chuckle.

"Much of the same as you, I suppose, as well as many other things. I've lived a lifetime of dreams to plague my sleep." The blonde said.

Hermione was at a loss. Why was she talking of dreams – no, why was she talking of nightmares with someone who featured so prominently in her own?

"I dream of your sister" she said suddenly. Narcissa's gaze snapped back to hers in shock at the admission. "Some nights, I feel her weight on me. I hear her screaming at me, and I feel her magic – I feel her Crucio like that day, all over again. I feel her k-knife, her knife, cutting into m-my arm, and you" she raised a shaky hand to point accusingly at Narcissa "were there, you were there and you looked straight a-a-at m-me" she continued in a strangled stutter, her thoughts swirling out of control. The last thing she wanted was to have a panic attack in the presence of Narcissa Black, but that was exactly what was happening. The greenhouse seemed to get darker, as if the moon had waned in an instant, and suddenly she began to struggle to breathe. She felt her blood thundering in her ears as her breaths came in increasingly shorter gasps; her arm began to throb, her Mudblood scar feeling like it had been slashed anew.

Suddenly she felt two hands gripping her shoulders with unbelievable strength. It hurt, it hurt to the point of bruising, but the pain grounded her, yanking her back from the whirlwind of emotion she had begun to cycle through.

"I did" Narcissa breathed, her face impossibly close. Those eyes, those blue eyes that watched as Hermione suffered were merely inches away from her own, and the brunette could see nothing but the sea of blue. "I stood there. I watched as my sister, as my own blood tortured a child and I did nothing. I hear her too, in my dreams. Every night since that night I hear not only my sister, but you. It is your screams that torment not only my dreams, but my every waking moment. They will until the day that I die."

Narcissa's sudden proximity was enough to stop Hermione's breakdown. Hermione looked intently at the older witch, looked right at those blue eyes welling up with tears. It was only once she noticed Narcissa's welled up tears that she felt the wet heat running down her own cheeks.

"Why?" she gasped.

Narcissa's grip relaxed slightly. Hermione could tell she was trying to rebuild her defenses, desperately trying to don her Ice Queen mask and failing.

"I lack the courage you Gryffindors take so much pride on. I did it for my family in the end, but at what cost? If family is such a noble thing, how come not a day goes by that I don't remember that moment in shame?"

Hermione's breathing had calmed down, though her pulse was still racing. Narcissa had yet to let go of her.

"You apologized to me. After the trials." She said. Why did it sound like an accusation?

Narcissa closed her eyes. She had never looked so vulnerable, so broken.

"I did. There is nothing I can ever do or say to warrant your forgiveness. I vowed I would never seek it. But you needed to know, I needed you to see that I am not as cold as the world may make me seem." She said, finally letting go of Hermione's shoulders.

The brunette took a few deep breaths. This was precisely the kind of situation she tried to avoid so desperately in her nightly walks.

"I'm sorry." She said.

Narcissa looked at her, puzzled. "Why in Salazar's name are you apologizing?"

Hermione gestured vaguely around her own person. "For all of… this, what just happened. It doesn't happen so often anymore, but…"

Narcissa nodded in understanding. "I understand. Miss Granger, please do not hesitate to let me or the Headmistress know if my presence here undermines your…"

"It's fine! It's fine, damnit, when will people stop coddling me like this!" Hermione suddenly snapped. She immediately regretted the outburst upon seeing Narcissa's shocked expression. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I… It's fine, Narcissa. You're a qualified Potions teacher, and we need one. I don't have a problem with it."

"Very well" Narcissa said, thankfully dropping the subject.

The two remained silent for several moments. Narcissa went back to her Wideye Potion, while Hermione leaned against the table, wiping at her wet cheeks and wondering why she couldn't just walk out of the greenhouse and leave the older witch to her affairs. They had nothing left to say to one another, had they? But it was as if her feet were planted on the ground along with all the shrubbery.

With nothing to add to whatever conversation they had, Hermione looked at Narcissa work. She was staring, she knew, but the other witch truly did not seem to mind, or was ignoring her completely.

It was as if not a day had gone by since Hermione first saw her. She knew that witches and wizards aged somewhat differently than muggles, but even then… Narcissa seemed untouched by age. Her shimmering blonde hair was longer than Hermione remembered, and she always wore it down; it reached the small of her back in silky tresses. She was the picture of elegance and grace – an observation that had Hermione holding in a scoff. Of course; born into Wizarding aristocracy and married into more Wizarding aristocracy. She was bound to have had etiquette lessons or the like.

Hermione watched as the older witch carefully and methodically went about her brewing. She had perfectly manicured, dainty hands, and those hands were not finely chopping the monkshood buds with such ability Hermione was momentarily entranced by the movement of the knife.

As much as Bellatrix Black was dark, Narcissa was fair; as fair as melting snow. Maybe that was also why people called her the Ice Queen. Hermione chuckled: one thing had most definitely changed: Narcissa no longer carried the expression of someone who had just smelled something foul.

"What's so funny?" Narcissa asked, her brow furrowed in concentration as she weighed the chopped monkshood on a small scale.

"Oh, nothing. I was just remembering the first time we met." Hermione said, chuckling even harder at Narcissa's confused expression.

"You and me?" she asked, bewildered at Hermione's confirmation. "Not a particularly amusing memory, in my recollection." She said, her voice heavy with shame.

"Not particularly" Hermione agreed. "But Harry had a way of describing the… expression you had."

Narcissa cocked an eyebrow, urging the brunette to go on.

"It's awful, really" Hermione said, trying hard to contain her laughter now. "Not to mention immature; but we were teenagers, and, well, you were the enemy" she explained. "He said you looked like you looked as if you had just sniffed some dung." Narcissa's stunned look only served to release the peals of laughter she had been trying so hard to hold in. "I am awfully sorry" she added quickly.

To her utter surprise, Narcissa let out a good chuckle herself.

"Mr. Potter's observation does not surprise me." She confessed, to Hermione's astonishment. "The 'mask of preeminence,' as my late mother called it. Many Pureblooded families practiced this air of disgust for the world around them; as if we were far too perfect for it." She said, a bit of guilt in her voice. "I was always quite good at it, but someone completely unexpected surpassed me in the practice." She said.

Hermione couldn't help it, she was curious. "Who managed such a feat?"

Narcissa smiled wickedly. "Draco, of course."

Hermione let out an inelegant guffaw. It was funny because it was true; Draco had inherited his father's sneer and his mother's haughtiness. It was no contest.

The two witches fell into silence once again, though this time it felt as if a heavy fog had been cleared from the air around them. Hermione still leaned against the table, following Narcissa's every move with her eyes.

Said witch added the last of the monkshood to her now simmering cauldron, stirring it gently so as not to disturb the mixture excessively. After a few minutes, a flick of her wand put out the fire under the cauldron, and another wave cooled the substance, now an iridescent blue. She turned to her silent companion.

"Would you mind helping me bottle these, Miss Granger?" she asked politely.

Hermione nodded, glad to be of use. Narcissa summoned several phials from a box by the table; they clattered in the air before neatly arranging themselves in rows on the tabletop. Hermione grabbed a ladle and got to work.

They worked diligently and silently for a few minutes. Hermione idly wondered what time it was, but felt no desire to leave just yet. Instead she bottled and labelled phial after phial; Narcissa had brewed quite a large batch. It made Hermione think about how much she used it.

"I remember my first-ever Potions lesson as a first-year" Narcissa spoke softly after a few moments. "I imagine Slughorn didn't expect much of me; I had two brilliant sisters, it was unlikely that I would eclipse them. But I had read ahead. I was insufferable; I wanted to answer all the questions. At the end, poor Horace had to pull me aside. 'Miss Black' he said. 'My dearest Miss Black, please do leave at least one question for your fellow students'." She said. It was clearly a fond memory, as the corners of her mouth tugged into a slight smile.

Hermione couldn't help a smile of her own.

"I believe I was quite insufferable as well… An 'insufferable know-it-all', as Snape put it at the time."

Narcissa frowned.

"Severus always lacked tact… and some basic manners. It didn't help that he disliked children with such intensity."

"Not at all… Though some other teachers were a bit exasperated with my hand going up every time they asked a question" Hermione said with a chuckle. Narcissa smiled openly.

"I understand the feeling well. I read all of my textbooks before term had even begun. Bell… My sisters were afraid I'd be sorted into Ravenclaw."

Hermione noticed the near slip, but chose to ignore it. Narcissa was obviously trying to avoid mentioning Bellatrix for her sake.

"I remember when I got my letter." She said. She had never told this to anyone, but could not fathom why she wanted to share it with Narcissa Black of all people. "McGonagall came to explain it to mum and dad. I cried for two days straight."

"I suppose it was a shock." Narcissa said diplomatically.

"Yes. But not in the way you might think." Hermione said. "When Minerva came and explained it all… explained me… it was like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. I had always known I was different. And then there was the answer: I wasn't broken, I wasn't a freak. I was a witch."

Narcissa smiled, though she was deep in thought. She would never know such a deep feeling of displacement, of not belonging. She fought a frown at the thought of how many had tasted belonging only to have it ripped away by the blood purity ideals she herself subscribed to for most of her life.

"Hogwarts was… it felt like coming home. It didn't last long." Hermione added sadly, to Narcissa's surprise.

"Whyever not?"

"Kids are mean, muggle or magical. I was a freak, a buck-toothed, insufferable know-it-all." She explained. "Even Harry and Ron didn't want to be friends with me. That is, until a troll changed everything" she recalled with a smile.

"Ah, the troll in the bathroom incident." Narcissa commented.

"How do you know about that?" Hermione asked.

"Draco told us about the talk of the school in a letter or two. You featured so prominently in his letters we worried he fancied you." She admitted, laughing at Hermione's bewilderment.

"I suppose the heir to the Malfoy family falling for a Muggleborn would have been cause for alarm." Hermione snipped humorously, taking care to let her tone show she meant it in jest.

"Quite" Narcissa agreed, a hint of shame back into her eyes. "I like to think he and I have grown, as a family and as people since the war." She murmured softly. Hermione smiled.

"Draco was the first person to call me a mudblood." She said, raising a hand to stop Narcissa from interfering. "He was the first, but obviously not the last. But Draco was also the first to call attention to my friends when I went off the deep end."

Narcissa was shocked by this, but she supposed it made sense. She knew her son and Hermione had been on much better terms, going so far as to work together in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That was all she knew.

"And you… I know what you're researching with Neville. I know of your plans for Black Manor, and I've read your medicinal research on The Practical Potioneer. I believe you both have grown, Narcissa."

Narcissa had no words, besides a softly spoken thank you. Suddenly bashful, she went back to bottling the last of her potion. Neither witch spoke until the cauldron was empty and dozens of phials had been arranged on the countertop, glittering in the moonlight.

"Speaking of growth" Hermione said suddenly "I wanted to apologize for my comment back at our first staff meeting. The… viper talk."

Narcissa shrugged, even this she did elegantly somehow.

"No matter. I won't say we Slytherins don't deserve it." She conceded.

"Maybe, but I should have handled it better. I just… I worry about William White" Hermione confessed.

"It is understandable. How could you not? You know exactly what he is going through. You know his predicament better than most."

"You're his Head of House; you see his interactions within his House more clearly than I can. How is he?" Hermione dared ask. Narcissa smiled in understanding.

"He has befriended the Wyndham boy, a half-blood, with whom he shares his dormitory. I do not know how his relations are with the others in his dormitory, but he seems to maintain a cordial relationship with most other half-bloods. I know some children from older families are reluctant, but there have been no issues thus far."

"That seems… Too good to be true." Hermione blurted out. "I'm sorry" she added quickly, but Narcissa waved her off.

"I agree, to a point. I'm not naïve enough to think that Mr. White's transition will be totally uneventful." She turned to look deeply into Hermione's eyes. "However, we must not make mountains out of mole-hills. By singling him out, he becomes a target – for what, we have yet to find out, and I hope we never do. But for now, things must go as they are – though I believe it would be good if you let him show his worth to you rather than pull it out of him." She said gently.

Hermione huffed, not entirely happy about it.

"I know, I know… I… I just want to help him. I know I wished someone would have done the same for me when I was his age" she reasoned.

"Be that as it may, Miss Granger, you cannot treat William White as Hermione Granger would have liked to be treated. There is one great difference between you two" Narcissa countered.

"And that would be?"

Narcissa smiled; her voice was gentle, almost teasing.

"He may be a Muggleborn, Miss Granger, but he is still a Slytherin."