A/n: I've been struck down with this lovely virus so I am definitely housebound for a few weeks. I would say I'm writing every day, but that would be a lie. I am mostly just sleeping and watching netflix, currently addicted to the Ozark.

I will also say, the name of this story is poorly chosen, but this story has been running through my mind since fractures ended. Although now I regret the name of the book, it suits it quite well.

Anyway, please all stay safe.

Warning: this story will deal with violence, sexual mentions and rated for over adults. TAGS: Corruption, violence, mentions of rape, murder, child abuse and illnesses. Warnings will be in place from the star of each story.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.

Enjoy...

Part Three

Temptation

"There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable."
― Mark Twain

A deep rumbling interrupts her musing, placing the book on to the shelf she rubs her belly. She's hungry she's gone without her lunch. A tasteless sandwich abandoned in her bag, the ham out of date and the bread has seen better days. She chose to ignore her food, chose to go hungry looking forward to the home-made curry tonight.

Still, the rumbling keeps her distracted the list in her hand half-forgotten she can smell stew cooking making her stomach twitch with cramps. She didn't have breakfast either they had run out of milk. Will have to wait till one of them gets paid. Rubbing her tired eyes, she briefly wonders if it's all worth it. She could leave go back to the muggle world go to college to join her parents' practice. She could save for a house, enjoy evenings out with friends go on holiday.

A success story, with a family and a life.

She could be anyone in the muggle world, become anything she wants to be. She had the chance, the grades, the knowledge she could start her business. She could be more than a mudblood, more than an apprentice. More than what she is. The dusty mirror catches her attention, she looks rung out. She touches her eye, can still feel the pain left from the baton. Can still remember the beating, the magic may have cast away the bruises, but the memory remains. The tears left their stains, she could leave.

Could be anyone.

"Hermione," She turns brushing her hair out of her face, to MR Rickes. "Ah, would you be a dear and run an errand before we close. I need to take the money to the bank, but my back…"

"Say no more," Hermione smiles placing the list down. "You really should get that checked."

He waves her off, rummaging around in the back room collecting the coins to be taken to Gringotts. Slowly he places the coins into a secure suitcase trusting only her if with the spell to unlock it. It's broad daylight she doubts there will be any issues after all the Auror's have increased their presence. She smirks to herself at the thought, even as her shoulder twinges with the reminder of what the Aurors will do to the likes of her.

An ageing hand passes the suitcase to her, followed by a key. A gentle pat to her hand, ocean blue eyes and a toothless grin. A granddaughter he never had the chance to meet. He escorts her to the entrance of the shop, as though she hasn't been his apprentice for the last two years. His encouraging eyes as she takes the walk towards Gringotts's.

She throws a wave over her shoulder as she disappears, from the ageing bookshelf. The street bustles with mid-day shoppers the suitcase weighing heavily in her hand. A sign catches her eye, the latest potions edition on display in their competitors' shop. No, she mustn't dally she has a meeting tonight she needs to finish on time.

The smell of fresh bread makes her stop, Gringotts's shadow encasing her reminding her that she has a job to do. Still, her feet remain glued to the cobbled street, the soft drizzle of rain. She watches like a hungry orphan as the baker's rush about cooking the last of the bread. The last turn out of the day, she hasn't touched fresh bread since Hogwarts.

Fresh salad, it's when she sees the pumpkin pie, it's agonising. Her last loan from her parents ran out months ago, she's too ashamed to ask again. Too ashamed, they think she works at the Ministry a desk job, they don't know she lives in a flat with two other witches. That they barely survive on their pay cheques. That under the cover of darkness they scheme and create banners. That every single day she fights to have the same rights as others.

They would drag her home if they knew the bruises marked her body if they could see the pain she survives daily. If only they knew that the world of magic is so dark and painful. Sometimes she wishes she was never born a witch. That she was living a normal life.

Her fists clench, her body tenses as two Aurors appear behind her, she can see their reflection in the window. But she doesn't need it, she can feel their callous gaze, they know she's a muggleborn. Even as her mouth waters for the pie, she tries to fight the urge to reach for her wand.

The bell above the door rings, as one of the Aurors, heads into the shop, she spots Frank Longbottom, senior Auror talking in the distance with a shop keeper. Showing him a picture, she wonders who they are looking for if it's related to the protests.

The Auror exits the shop, the pie she was ogling in a little container. He smirks at her as he passes, as though he could read her thoughts.

"Misses will be pleased with this." He states. "You gonna stand there all-day filth?"

She could be anyone.

She doesn't flinch anymore at the slur; she grew used to it years ago. Moving from the window she doesn't bat an eyelid as they discuss her amongst themselves. Ignores the posters that there is a zero-tolerance, no rioting, protests or anything will be tolerated.

Stopping once more she stares up to Ollivanders shop, remembers the day McGonagall turned up on her door. Surprising their parents explaining that Hermione was a witch took her to Olllivanders, to pick up Crookshanks, the books. Showed her a world of glitter and magic a world of promise. Forgot to mention she would never become anything because of her blood.

The money weighs heavily in her hand, would Reg know if she took some. Just for food, to help. Could she steal from the only wizard who willingly hired her, didn't belittle her and tried to cop a feel. Have I sunk so low? The devil whispers in her ear promising no one will know if you took a few coins, she knows it's right. He wouldn't notice and if he did an admin error. But she would know, she would know she stole.

I could be anyone in the muggle world.

Sighing, she heads to Gringotts's up the snow-white marble steps to the imposing doors. They know her here she regularly runs errands, but she follows the same procedure as she always does.

Why am I here? I could be anyone.

The drizzle has turned to raindrops and she casts a simple charm to prevent herself from getting too wet. The night is dawning, she hopes Lily has made it home safe from her travels.

"Why?" A girl's voice catches her attention as the crowds disperse from the high street, a young girl no older than seven clutches her toy. Speaking to the same two Aurors from before.

"Because it's the rules."

"They're stupid rules." The girl pouts crossing her arms. "he's my friend."

It's only then she notices the boy in the Auror's hand clutching another similar toy. Can tell by the hand gripping the boy's fragile wrist that his a muggleborn. Once more she fights the urge to pull out her wand, choosing wisely to remain quiet.

"I brought it to him."

"You don't buy filth toys."

"He's my friend, release him at once."

They pull the toy from the boy's arms throwing it to the young witch, but they refuse to release the little boy. She wonders what his crime could be, what could the lad possibly do to deserve such treatment.

"Run along girl."

"No."

"I said move." The Auror threatens.

"No, his the same as me."

"No, he's a filthy mudblood who we caught stealing. You are from a noble house, there is a difference."

"No, we have the same blood."

What?

"What?" The Auror demands.

"We all have the same blood; I saw the protestors. We have the same blood, it's red."

Smiling, Hermione doesn't wait to hear anymore, she heads back to the bookshop, leaving the children to argue with Aurors. Pride it fills her, it empowers her, it's when she notices the papers their protest is the talk of the town. The whispers behind closed doors.

This is why, this is why I stay because I can make a change. We are the change.

~~~~~ Olive ~~~~~

She would be lying if she wasn't clock watching wishing the hours to hurry up, for the minutes to tick by and the shop to close. She does love her job, she does, but sometimes she wants nothing more than to be at home. Despite their cold flat she wants to be home in her bed. IN her pyjamas reading, drinking and laughing with her friends late into the night.

The bell above the door dingles, bugger off, she wants to scream at the customers. Go home, we have lives, but she ignores the impulse. Placing the next book back on to the shelf, leaving Reg to deal with customers she goes about her business. Passing the customers currently reading next to the fire, she wishes she could modernise the book shop. Reg was good enough to allow her to adjust some things. Allowed her to make a small clearing, a nice fire pit, with sofa's allowing people to read their new purchases. A small haven amongst the labyrinth of books. Away from the noise of the world, it became a hit with the locals. Choosing their small little old bookshop from the large, shining new shop on the high street.

Still, she wants to expand a bit more, to create a bigger space for reading, writing and a little coffee shop for cakes and drinks to be brought. A meeting place for book lovers to escape to, to exchange books and thoughts. A haven, she admits she and Lily spend a great deal of time in the comfort of the sofa reading and chatting aimlessly.

I nearly gave this all up. The devil whispers on her shoulder reminding her that she nearly lost this haven, that she nearly threw it all away. For some quick money, to be selfish and escape a world that currently needs all who can to stand up. To be accounted for that it's not just about her it for a bigger cause.

"Hermione," Reg calls for her from the front of the shop.

Placing a tomb down, she moves to the front of the shop away from the warmth of the fire. Ignoring the chilling feeling running through her spine, the small sense of dread niggling at her neck.

The urge to vomit is overwhelming so much so she clutches her stomach. An impulse she wishes she could have fought off, the urge to turn on the spot and apparate away. The chilling sensation has turned into razor claws chewing on her back. She feels sick, bare and very afraid. She tries for impassive, to push all emotion away, she had not been expecting this today. Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time, just a matter of time before one of them came knocking on her door.

Why here though? Why not at home away from prying eyes, from the listening of the customers. Will they drag her out screaming, protesting her innocence, will they show her scars to the onlookers. What about poor Reg, so trusting not aware or ignoring her late-night escapades. Ignores her tiredness, the bags under her eyes and not asking about newly acquired bruises.

Heart pounding, she comes to a stop next to Reg, ignoring his kind gaze that must have noticed her hesitation. She feels open, can feel the eyes of the customers slowly turning to them. Their loyal customers, some she counts as friends, just imagine what's running through their minds. What lies will they spill when they leave this shop tonight what will they tell the world?

It's impossible to ignore the intense dark eyes regarding her as though she were dirt on a shoe, eyes as dark as their name. She used to think them callous pits at school when the curses would lift, and she could scamper off to safety. When the bullying became part of her education when the bullies became the so-called protectors.

Why are you here? What do you want from me? Surely the charm worked, it hasn't failed yet. The urge to smack the witch is an itch she must refuse; she should never have tempted the witch. Lily was right she pushed Bellatrix too much in the interrogation now she was here to reap revenge. Except she's alone, no backup does Black disrespect Hermione so much that she came alone. Not that Hermione could take the witch in a fight, she found that out in school, regardless of the thought still hurts. In Black's eyes, she needs no one in to bring the likes of Hermione down to the Auror's unit.

A warm hand on her shoulder snaps her from her thoughts, as Reg places a comforting hand. Please don't make a scene. Please, Lord, don't make a scene, for Reg's sake.

"Miss Granger has a permit," Reg announces continuing the conversation with Black.

The words make her tick, she has a permit to work. A permit despite being born in the country despite leaving Hogwarts with some of the best scores seen she needs a permit. A permit to work, because she's a mudblood in the eyes of the system. The filth that should always be accounted for not allowed to breathe without the Ministry knowing.

"I'm not here regarding that," Black dismisses as though the very thought is below her pay grade, perhaps it was. "I was informed Granger here is the best to speak to regarding certain books."

"Ah yes," Reg seems appeased by this patting Hermione on the shoulder proud of his protegee. "Hermione here is an encyclopaedia on knowledge and should you need any books she is the best person to speak to."

"Is there somewhere we can speak in private?" Black demands, Reg pauses uncertainly if he will allow Bellatrix to question Hermione alone. "It's a sensitive case and I'm afraid the less who know the details the better. I'm sure I can trust in your discretion."

The sweetness and pure innocence are sickening to see. She supposes some would class it as charm, but the act makes Hermione's skin react. It appeases Reg who nods allowing Hermione to disappear into the back with Black.

Her feet remain rooted to the ground she doesn't want to go with Black, can see a trap knows exactly why Black is here. Still Black is waving for Hermione to lead the way, despite the protest in her body, Hermione does so. Towards the back of the shop, she collects a book on references a sheet she lives by.

Having her back to the Auror goes against everything in her, what is she thinking? Is she being marched to her death, what would the response be? Resisting arrest? Fleeing from a crime scene will Black burn them all in the book shop. The Auror's wouldn't think twice to question Black, she is the most trusted Auror and the witch can do no wrong in their Minister's eyes.

Collecting herself, Hermione pulls a quill out not missing the twitch from Black's hand, she briefly wonders if Black thinks this might be a trap. Who is playing who? It's a chink in the infamous armour of Black, that perhaps she could twist this. That she could play Black, make her think that Hermione has the upper hand that she knows why Black is here.

It's a game of wits, a game of wits. It's only Black, only Bellatrix the witch who bullied you in school. It's nothing unusual, the witch who nearly got you suspended because you broke her nose. Because you and Ted rioted in school and ambushed the abusers. Drenched them in paint and bombarded them with paintballs. They cry, they can cry they feel pain. Except for Black, she's never seen the witch cry and Hermione knows Bellatrix relishes pain. Mind over matter.

"So," Hermione states proud of her calm voice. "Which book are you looking for?"

"You know I'm not here for that," Black replies disregarding the list, Hermione manages a confused look.

She flinches as Black grabs her by the shoulder pushing Hermione further to the back of the shop further away from the curious looks. Trapped in the back of the room, Hermione's heart hammers out of control can feel it vibrate through her chest. Still, she holds it together as Black presence suffocates her, how can someone have such energy. An unsuspecting onlooker receives a wandless hex from Black and they scurry off away.

"I'm confused," Hermione acts, clutching the quill.

"Drop the act filth," Bellatrix hisses. "you know exactly why I'm here."

"I can honestly say…"

"Shut it." Bellatrix snaps, anger is a weapon to the Auror, and it suits her. She wears it like an expensive perfume. "I'm being courtly, playing nice I don't think you want me to arrest you in front of your boss nor the customers."

"I haven't committed any crimes."

"No? So, it wasn't you that I interrogated last night? Wasn't Lily Evans who came to pick you up to take you to St Mungo's."

"I was with friends at a party. Besides Lily is a porter for the hospital so it's normal for her to collect patients."

The smile that graces Black's lips unnerves Hermione, as though she's the next meal. Plead ignorance Black has no evidence, no proof no memory of their ordeal last night.

"I need a book on a charm," Black changes topic turning to regard an old book on the shelf, sharp nail tracing the spine of the dusty book. Twisting the dust between her fingers she regards Hermione with a feral look.

"Okay," Hermione nods once more turning to her list. "I can recommend plenty of books…"

"Well, the thing is," Black interrupts prowling the bookshelf. "It might not be on your list."

"I have an extensive list of suppliers if it helps the Auror unit we're more than happy to be of assistance."

"A charms book on perception."

"Well we have quite a few I would recommend Mr Seadle's exploring the state of worlds if you're into the unknown. He has quite the ideals…"

"Or it could be a potion."

Pausing, Hermione stares at the list in her hand proud that her fingers aren't shaking. That her breathing is still normal. She doesn't know. She continues to check her list, playing the dutiful part of a good bookkeeper.

"Well I would need to know which to advise the best book," Hermione states still checking her list.

She jolts as a nail presses against her chin, electricity coursing through her body as Black nail scratches her skin. Titling her head away from the list back to dark, dark eyes that seem so very alive. She cannot help swallowing, like a cornered animal, Hermione considers smacking the witch for touching her. Trapped in the back of the dusty bookstore, trapped next to imposing presence of the Dark witch currently studying her as though she's the biggest mystery around.

"Humour me," Black whispers the smell of raspberry soap encases their small bubble. "If I told you it was both a potion and a spell."

The nail slips away despite the scratch it leaves no other evidence that it was there. Clutching the quill, Hermione stares at the dark witch. She doesn't know. Shaking her head, Hermione manages a shrug, wondering what she could say. Yes, Bellatrix I know exactly of which you speak, but I don't know how to make it. But I know of it.

She feels the gentle nudge against her mind, but she keeps the Auror out, Hermione has too many training sessions, she will never let anyone in her mind. After all, it's the only thing the Ministry doesn't own, despite them trying.

"It's not something I'm familiar with," Hermione replies flinching as Black snatches the list from her hands.

"I understand," Black comments running through the list with her finger. "It's a shame."

"What is?"

"You're poor liar filth," Black hisses the list catches fire in the dark witch's hand.

Her hard work going up in smoke, disappearing into ash, the list composed of some of the best authors. The flames illuminated in the depths of Black's eyes, glinting with malice a promise of the future to come.

"Take good look filth, everything you love will turn to ash," The voice drips with threats as Black blows the ash from hands. Hermione watches as it drifts to the floor at her feet days of work and research turned to nothing. "There's no phoenix in this story, Granger, you'll just burn."

A/n: Ah, it's so good to finally have our witches meet. Now the real story begins, it's gonna start going crazy so I advise to grab a seat, because the rollercoaster is truly starting. Bellamione to help us through this shit time. Also I've only been locked down for two days, I'm losing the plot, good news I now know my cat's favourite colour is yellow... jokes, it's green.

Till next time...