The Department of Work and Welfare for Magical Beings (DoWWMB) was located in the basement of the Ministry of Magic. There were two entrances; one that led to the "Front Desk" and one that led to the "Help Desk."

The "Front Desk" was a large room filled with shabby chairs. A sad corner was filled with children's toys and patched picture books. One wall was charmed to look like an aquarium, with tropical fish swimming gaily across the blue waters.

Against the opposite wall sat a long counter with four windows. The windows were small, and charmed to prevent anyone from overhearing what was discussed. The department officials assisted visitors with employment, social services, and general well-being. When a situation could not be handled at the desk, a tall, steel door would appear beside the counter, and the visitor would be ushered into the labyrinth of cubicles behind the windows to speak to a specialist.

The "Help Desk" was a tiny room, with one large open window and two stations. There were no chairs, and the windows had the distinction of being the only windows in the Ministry that were consistently partly-cloudy.

On the other side of the desk was another small room with three doors. One was marked "Specialists", one "Management," and the other "George E. Grubber- Desk Supervisor."

George E. Grubber was a small man, with slim, rectangular glasses and yellow teeth that were bared in a smile.

"Welcome to the Department of Work and Welfare for Magical Beings, Miss Malfoy," he said, peering at Hermione from the other side of a rather large desk. "I must say, when my superior informed me that one of our summer program participants was..." he let out a rehearsed laugh, "Well, let's just say I was surprised that someone of your status would be interested in the program." His lips peeled back in a smile, revealing yellow teeth.

Hermione, who had been offended at the start by the leering once-over he had given her, affected a smile. "Well, I've always been interested in joining the Ministry," she said, "and when I found out about this internship I simply had to apply. It's an honor to be chosen."

Actually, this was not at all what she had pictured when Severus told her the Dark Lord had arranged for her to take a summer job at the Ministry.

"We need as many bodies there as possible," he had explained. "And we don't have enough people in that Department."

Grubber reached out to adjust one of the three potted cacti on his desk. "You know," he said slyly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, "there aren't many people who would be willing to take on the daughter of a Death Eater. Oh, I don't hold that against you," he said when Hermione opened her mouth, "I think that a person should be judged separately from their sire. It's not your fault that your father is a corrupt, despicable, traitor."

Beneath the desk, Hermione's hands curled into fists. Luckily, he changed the topic.

"Your job here is to greet visitors and help them navigate the Department. Those who have appointments will need to be ushered to the correct office. Those who do not will need to be redirected in a graceful fashion."

She wondered if he had ever done anything gracefully in his life.

"You will be here every morning from eight o'clock, that's eight o'clock sharp, Miss Malfoy, until noon. At noon you may go. Samar is returning this year, and she will be working at the same time as you. If you have any questions, ask Samar first. If she does not know the answer you can always ask me."

He waited for her nod, and then continued, "I expect you to be well-groomed at all times," as if her mother would allow anything less, "your robes should be modest and professional, and your wand should be hidden at all times." He gazed unblinkingly at her, "Believe me, you do not want to give a visitor the opportunity to grab your wand. Especially the Goblins." He gave a little shiver. "Which reminds me, I will not tolerate any sort of discrimination. The… beings that pass through this door have led difficult lives. I'm sure you can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have to work for a living. These are not the pampered upper crust. No, the ones who walk through this door are the ones who have had to fight for everything they have. I would hope that it has a humbling effect of you."

Hermione nodded, "Thank you sir. I really appreciate the opportunity." She felt as if she were going to burst into tears. She couldn't remember ever feeling so humiliated in her life.

"We open in ten, Miss Malfoy. You should go become acquainted with Samar."

Hermione nodded, and stood. She winced slightly as she turned. It had been two weeks since the night at the Ministry, and though she was "out of danger," as Severus put it, she was still incredibly sore.

She left the dark little room, and blinked in the bright light of the charmed windows. The Help Desk, which had been empty when she arrived, was now occupied by a pretty girl around Hermione's age. She had dark, curly hair, and a brilliant smile.

"Good of him to introduce you himself." The girl shot a scornful look at the closed office door. "You must be Hermione," she said in a rich, deep voice. "I'm Samar. You can take that side," she pointed to the right side, where there was a chair and a typewriter.

"Thank you." Hermione sat down, and as she did, the typewriter sprang to life, typing out:

Good Morning Miss Malfoy

Today's Updates:

1. The Werewolf Clinic has been moved to 3:00 pm, and will be located in the Smythe Conference Room.

2. Level 9 is closed for maintenance

3. Specialist Nguyen is out on Vacation Leave All Week

4. Specialist Dawson is running late and will be in by 9:00 am

Hermione blinked, and re-read "Level 9 is closed for maintenance."

"It's always a jolt the first time," said Samar good naturedly. She slid a quill over to Hermione, "You might need that. Sometimes we need to write out directions."

Samar rolled her chair over, "I don't know how much he told you..." she looked expectant.

"Not much," said Hermione. "Just that we give directions and show visitors where their appointments are."

Samar rolled her eyes. "Figures," she muttered. "We also make appointments, keep the literature in order, and- oh yeah!" She rolled her chair over to a tall filing cabinet, and rummaged around inside the bottom drawer. Seconds later, she emerged with a bright pink slip of paper.

"This is your clearance as a Summer Ministry Student!" She slapped it down in front of Hermione. "This gives you permission to use your wand at work only, even though you're not at school." She tapped a signature line, "You must have already had the training. It took me three weeks to get the clearance last year!"

Hermione was absolutely certain that she had not received the training, but she knew better than to point that out. Instead, she scrawled her name on the line.

"Excellent," Samar tapped the form with her wand, "Memo to Internal Administration!" she said, overly enunciating her words. "They have a tendency to be lazy if you don't pronounce clearly," she explained.

The form folded itself into a paper airplane, shook itself, and flapped away. Hermione watched it flatten itself to slide through the crack at the top of the door.

"Are you at Hogwarts, then?" asked Samar as she found a memo pad for Hermione.

"Yes. I haven't seen you there though. Which House are you in?"

There was a peal of laughter, and Samar tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Oh no, I'm not at Hogwarts. My Dad would be furious! He's from Beauxbatons, one of the original families-"

Hermione nodded sagely, as if this information meant anything to her.

"-so Hogwarts was never even an option for us. He nearly had a teaching position there- he's a poet- but Mum has never left London, so when he asked if she'd like to move to France she burst into tears. "

"Did your Mother go to Hogwarts?"

Shrugging, Samar shook her head, "No."

"Oh!" A faint blush crept up Hermione's cheeks. "Is your Mother a Muggle?"

Although Hermione's tone had been polite, Samar's eyes flashed in annoyance. "I'm just as Pure as you are!" she scoffed, lifting her chin haughtily. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared challengingly at Hermione.

Purer, Hermione thought, "I didn't mean to offend you!" she said quickly, eyes widening. "I don't think there's anything wrong with being a Muggle, but if it was rude I apologize."

Samar studied her for a long moment, and then her face softened. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "When I heard that I'd be working with a Malfoy I expected-"

Hermione arched a brow, "A snob?"

Now it was Samar's turn to blush. "Maybe a little," she confessed. She dropped into her seat at the Help Desk, "Will you forgive me? I promise I won't make any future assumptions!" She clasped her hands together in front of her as if begging Hermione.

A genuine smile spread across Hermione's face, "Yes, of course."

Relief washed over Samar's face, and she let out a little laugh, "Good. We have to stick together. Especially with him," she jabbed a finger towards Grubber's door.

Suddenly a cool voice boomed over the room: "Good morning. The time is now 9am. The Help Desk is open now."

"Here we go," murmured Samar as the door sprang open, revealing a pale man in a long winter cloak. "Listen to me for a bit- you'll catch on quick." Pointing a bright smile at the newcomer, Samar called out, "Welcome to the Department of Work and Welfare for Magical Beings, how can we help you?"

"I am here for the, er, Vampire Employment, er, Workshop," he said. He swayed a little on his feet.

"Perfect," Samar reached beneath the desk and pulled out a purple pamphlet, and Hermione noticed that there were dozens of brightly colored pamphlets down there. "Have you ever been to the Smythe conference room before?..."

By the time noon rolled around and the cool voice boomed: "Good Afternoon. The time is now twelve o'clock pm. The Help Desk will be closed until 1pm for lunch." Hermione was sure of three things:

First, Samar was an angel.

Second, Grubber was a horrible, despicable man who deserved to be crucioed into oblivion.

And finally, the Dark Lord was punishing her.

She had been yelled at three times by visitors for not knowing things off the top of her head. Each time, Samar had calmly taken over, and then assured Hermione that it was all "Part of the job."

Even worse was the time a woman had looked down her nose at her and asked to speak to someone competent.

Grubber had taken her around to the officials who manned the "Front Desk" and the Specialists and introduced her as, "Miss Malfoy, daughter of, you know, the Death Eater." Each time he had given her a cruel little smirk. Most of the others had greeted her indifferently, but a few flat out refused to shake her hand. After each of these encounters, Grubber shook his head sympathetically and sighed, "Some people have so much prejudice. I'm sure you know better than anyone, growing up in the home that you did..."

"Bastard," Samar had muttered when she overheard him say it, "Just last week he was telling me that Muggleborns have a lower intelligence than the average Witch or Wizard." She grimaced, "It's because of the high percentage of Muggleborns in the Ministry's Housing Program."

The Ministry Housing Program, Samar had explained, was a place the magical community could turn to if they could not afford housing on their own. The program would "re-home" the family in one of their buildings, and provide labor opportunities for those who were able to work. Judging by Samar's expressions, the Ministry Housing Program was the worst thing a person could go through. Hermione personally thought it was good of the Ministry to come up with housing options for the homeless and destitute. When she said as much Samar had simply raised an eyebrow.

After her shift, Hermione felt as if her head was being attacked by bludgers. She trudged up to the lift in the atrium marked "Knight Bus stop" and let out a sigh as it rose.

The lift had been charmed to look like an ordinary telephone box, much like the normal entrance, and she shifted from foot to foot as she waited for the Knight Bus to appear.

"All right!"

Bellatrix's voice inside her mind was so loud that she jumped. Don't do that! she gasped out loud, looking around to make sure no one had seen her. The lift had taken her up to a narrow alley.

"Don't worry so much, Doveling. There's no one else here."

Here? She could feel a headache press against her skull. Oh Bella. Tell me you didn't come out in public!? Even as she asked the question, she knew Bellatrix was there. She could feel the strange thrumming beneath her skin- gentler now than it had been at the Department of Mysteries, but there nonetheless.

"I've taken the appropriate precautions."

Are you serious!? Where are you? Do you realize that there are posters of you everywhere? What if someone from the Ministry comes back up-

There was a dismissive snort. "They wouldn't see me. You don't even see me, and I'm right in front of you."

Hermione jumped again, and scanned her eyes over the alley. Are you wearing an Invisibility Cloak? she asked, thinking of Harry's cloak.

"Nope. And I'll save us a few minutes by pointing out that I have no invisibility or disillusionment charms on either."

Impossible. The alley was deserted, save for a handful of pigeons and a black dog. Scowling, Hermione turned to examine the telephone box, and then slowly ran her eyes back down the alley.

The dog barked, and Hermione's eyes flicked to it in irritation- and widened. You're not-?

The dog, wearing the canine version off a smirk, stood and approached the girl, "That took you long enough." She sat down in front of Hermione and stared up at her. She made a very pretty dog, with a dark, glossy black coat, Pricked ears, and a long snout that twitched in amusement.

Hermione gaped, You did it! You actually did it!

The dog snorted, "If my half-wit cousin can do this as a schoolboy, it's hardly a stretch of the imagination that I can as well."

At the mention of Sirius, Hermione felt her smile slip.

"Oh, don't be like that. Be happy! I was half worried I would end up as a toad or something. But no!"

Bellatrix, leapt up, and waved her banner-like tail playfully, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Now I can come pick you up every day after work. I'll just be a loyal pet-nothing to worry about at all. The Ministry won't know what hit them."

Every day?

Bellatrix nodded (and Hermione thought it was odd to see a dog using human gestures), "You didn't think I would let you spend your whole summer lazing about the house, drawing pictures of that Veela girl, did you?"

Blushing, Hermione protested, I don't-

"No, you spend your morning getting cozy in the Ministry, and your afternoons learning how to be an effective member of the cause."

But Mother thinks I'm coming home, said Hermione. The dog gave her a look that made her feel very small.

"Our lord sent Snape to explain things to Cissy this morning. Do you think you can handle being away from Mummy for a few more hours?"

Yes! Her face was burning scarlet.

"Good. I do not like it when my plans are interrupted. Grab onto my collar."

For the first time, Hermione noticed the sleek green collar that was fastened around the dog's neck.

"It will allow me to take you on a side-along apparation."

Oh, Hermione gently clasped her hand around the leather strap, noting that Bellatrix's fur was curly at the tips. She felt her knuckles brush against Bellatrix's neck, and a strange, peaceful sensation washed over her.

"Hold on tight, I haven't done this in ages."

Feeling as if a hook were tugging right behind her navel, Hermione scrunched her eyes shut and grimaced as the feeling of being squished through a too-tight tube pressed over her. Luckily, it was over as soon as it began, and she found herself on her hands and knees in the middle of the woods, her fingers still tight around the collar.

Bellatrix pulled free, and transformed in the blink of an eye.

"Not used to apparating, are you?" she asked, eyeing Hermione with a smirk. "You'll have to get over that. How do you think we'll be doing the majority of our travel?"

Floo? Shot Hermione, glowering at the older witch as she pulled herself up.

Bellatrix laughed, "We'll have to work on your broom skills too. Our lord likes the imposing cloud we create when we ride together."

Groaning, Hermione dusted her robes off.

"Hurry up, I'm starving."

Bellatrix strode through the trees easily, picking her way through the undergrowth. Hermione clambered after her. It took her a few minutes to realize that they were following a path. She could see the red bricks beneath the undergrowth.

"I put up a forest growth charm before I was arrested," explained Bellatrix as she held a branch aside so that Hermione could step by, "Apparently it was effective."

Hermione thought so. The trees grew close together, their trunks blanketed in moss. Ferns and other plants sprouted between the tangles of blackberry bushes. Squirrels, and birds filled the canopies, and Hermione saw a sleepy-eyed doe watch her from afar.

Soon, they came upon a baroque hunting lodge. Hermione stared wide-eyed as Bellatrix opened a rusty iron gate.

At one point it had been beautiful. It was made from grey stone, with tall windows, and a domed, slate-grey roof. Gargoyles perched on the edge of the roof, their faces carved in horrible grimaces. The formidable door was flanked by two marble statues. One, a skeleton holding an axe, the other a blindfolded woman holding a goblet. The windows were cracked, but whole, and the whole structure was swathed in ivy.

Bellatrix led Hermione up the cracked stone steps, and pushed through the door with the air of an Empress returning to her palace.

A rasping voice called out "Darling, we've returned!"

They had entered a long entrance hall. High above them, the domed ceiling was painted with a group of brightly dressed riders, their horses chasing a red fox round and round. They shouted greetings to Hermione and Bellatrix, but did not slow their mounts.

A worn velvet carpet stretched the length of the hall. The walls were washed in gold, and decorated with the heads of hundreds of creatures. Bucks, and Hippogriffs, and even- Hermione's stomach coiled- a preserved Muggle. His face was frozen in fear.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that the voice was Bellatrix's, and then the words sank in.

The last person she wanted to see was Bellatrix's husband. She had done her best not to think about him at all, and most of the time she was able to successfully convince herself that he did not exist at all. It had never occurred to her that Bellatrix might be living with him.

She doesn't even like him, she thought stormily, unaware of the curious glance Bellatrix cast in her direction.

"Bells?" The answering voice was just as rasping as Bellatrix's "out loud" voice, but it was somehow higher. More child-like.

A dark shape appeared in one of the doorways, and Hermione unconsciously inched closer to Bellatrix.

The man was dressed in an expensive robe that would have been in the height of fashion twenty years ago. It was massive on him though, and hung awkwardly from his frame. His hair had been shorn recently, and was growing back in patchy black clumps. Blue eyes peered from a gaunt face, but the expression was one of rapturous joy.

"Rab, I've brought my trainee, Hermione Malfoy."

Rab? Hermione's brows knitted in confusion. She had always thought Bellatrix was married to Rodolphus.

"I am, idiot." Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and "Rab's" face brightened.

"Oooh," he said, pressing his fists into his chin, "is this the one, then? The tiny birdie?"

Tiny. Birdie.

"Yes, Rab. This is Hermione. And Rab," Bellatrix said, her lips curling at the edges, "Is my brother-in-law."

He lives with you? Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"Yes, he lives with me," Bellatrix said out loud. She let out a snicker as Hermione turned bright red.

"Well, it's not like I'd live with Rodolphus," said Rabastan, breaking out into a child-like grin. He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows, and hooked an elbow around Hermione's arm.

This revelation raised more questions than it did answers, and Hermione allowed him to pull her into a disarrayed dining room. Bellatrix followed, an amused expression on her face.

"Have you ever had jam foam?" asked Rabastan, plopping down into the chair beside Bellatrix. They sat at a round table, it's glossy surface the only thing in the room that wasn't covered in dust. Hermione shook her head and sat on Bellatrix's other side.

"You HAVE to try it," he gushed, jumping to his feet and running from the room.

Eyes wide, Hermione turned to look at Bellatrix.

"It's delicious. The elves always serve it to him when they make jam. He's been ordering them to make jam every day since we returned."

Oh.

Rabastan returned a moment later, holding a stone crock that was filled with pink foam. The steam that rose from it smelled delicious, and Hermione's stomach rumbled in response.

An elf, clad in an old flour sack, trotted in holding a tray piled with soft slices of white bread. It set this on the table and trotted back out.

"Raspberry foam," Rabastan said, placing the crock in front of Bellatrix.

She smiled indulgently at him, and Hermione felt a little stab of jealousy.

After conjuring plates, Bellatrix spread the foam over three pieces of bread and passed both Rabastan and Hermione their portions. Rabastan took a bite immediately, and watched for Hermione's reaction.

It was delicious. The Elves certainly had a gift for making jam, and she happily ate four slices of bread while Rabastan filled her in on how the Elves made it. His smile never dimmed as he slid the crock towards him and finished off the lot.

They ate in silence, with Hermione casting looks at Bellatrix throughout the meal. It was the first time they had really had a chance to interact, and she couldn't help but hope that Bellatrix would see her as more than a silly girl who collapsed during battle.

She noticed Bellatrix smirking at her, and blushed red.

"There's no need to be so nervous, Dove. I'm not going to bite."

I'm not nervous! She protested, frowning as the hand holding her bread wavered. It's just anticipation.

Snickering, Bellatrix passed her another piece of bread.

"S'good, no?" asked Rabastan, a smear of pink on his chin. His blue eyes sparkled when she nodded, "Good birdie. It's nice to like sweet things. It makes it easier to cope with the sour. Right Bells?"

The older witch hummed her agreement, and Rabastan leaned his head against hers for a moment, reminding Hermione of a cat nuzzling his owner. Another stab of jealousy poked through her.

He went back to his bread, scooping mounds of the pink foam atop it before shoveling it into his mouth.

It was awkward, sitting there with the best friend she had only just met in person, and a man who had been imprisoned for more than a decade. Bellatrix seemed unaffected by Hermione's tension, but Hermione noticed that she did not eat. Instead, she took tiny sips from her teacup, her dark eyes studying Hermione.

Finally, Bellatrix stood. "If you are done, I think it's best to begin. Why don't you go feed Puffle?" she suggested when Rabastan looked dejectedly after them.

His face brightened, and he happily scooped up the remaining bread.

Who's Puffle?

She felt Bellatrix's glee as the older witch grinned, "Family pet."

They walked into a large ballroom. A large landscape of a wedding scene took up most of one wall, and the bride giggled loudly as they walked in. It was lit by a dozen or so silver orbs, which lazily twirled around the ceiling.

He said you didn't live with… with…

Bellatrix closed the door behind her, and said out loud, "With Rodolphus?"

Hermione nodded.

"I will never share living quarters with that man. He's quite possibly the cruelest wizard I've ever met." She raked her hair up into a messy bun.

Then why does his brother live here? Hermione fixed her gaze on her shoes.

"Didn't I just say Rodolphus was the cruelest wizard I've ever met?" There was a long exhale. "Their parents died shortly after we were married. Rab was still in school, and there was no way that I could leave that sweet boy to be raised by the Lestranges."

So he's like your adopted… She couldn't bring herself to say the word "son," but Bellatrix heard it anyway, and shook her head.

"Rab is my brother. I'm not really the maternal type. Now," she waved her wand dismissively, "I assume you know the basics of duelling?"

Hermione smiled, You know that I was part of the duelling club. And uncle Albus has been teaching me how to-

Bellatrix made a gagging noise.

Stop that!

"I will not. That fancy footwork Dumbledore has you doing is absolute rubbish! He's teaching you how to flee, not how to fight." She twisted her wand between her hands, knuckles growing white, "The last thing you want to be in a fight is the prey."

"I'm not the prey!" Hermione shouted, stomping her foot. She blushed when she realized she'd done it, but held her chin up, levelling Bellatrix with a glare. "I'm not prey."

A feral grin settled over Bellatrix's features, and she raised her wand. "Prove it then."

There was no time to react before a stinging hex hit Hermione's hip. It was mild, but enough to make Hermione hiss in discomfort. "That's not fair!" she shouted, digging into her sleeve for her wand, "I wasn't prepared-"

"That's not good enough!" another stinging hex hit Hermione in the shoulder, "What was it that Moody was so fond of saying? Constant vigilance?" She ducked as Hermione shot her own stinging hex, cackling as it missed. "We need to work on your aim too."

Huffing, Hermione glowered at Bellatrix, "Stupefy!" she yelled, sending the spell at Bellatrix's feet this time. She recoiled as another stinging hex landed on her hip.

"And non-verbal spells. Tsk, Dumbledore must be the worst tutor in existence."

"He is not," she could feel Bellatrix's amusement, and it only served to make her angrier. She was panting as she tried to dodge Bellatrix's hexes and fire off several of her own. While Bellatrix stuck to stinging hexes, Hermione tried every hex, jinx and curse she could remember. The older witch dodged each fluidly.

"Endurance as well. What exactly does Dumbledore do during your trainings? Talk?"

She was not about to admit that that was exactly what they did during their trainings. She lashed out with a cutting curse, and let out a groan of frustration when Bellatrix stepped aside. "If you'll just stand still," she gritted, pushing her hair out of her face.

"Oh, would that make it better?" Bellatrix stilled, and held her palms up, "Why don't you try a stinging hex though? There's no need to knock me unconscious on your first lesson."

First lesson? Hermione's pride welled up, making her bite her bottom lip in anger and concentration. How dare she talk to her like that? Like she was a First Year barely capable of holding a wand? Hermione had been the top of her class since their first lesson- without even trying.

She missed the knowing smirk on Bellatrix's face as she shot the strongest stinging hex she could muster across the ballroom. The red light bounced off an invisible shield, and ricocheted back towards Hermione, hitting her square in the chest, exactly where Dolohov's curse had hit. A burning sensation zipped across her chest, bringing tears to her eyes. She doubled over, "S-stop!"

Bellatrix was at her side in an instant, her wand held ready. "Let go," she said softly, trying to pull Hermione's hands away from where they were clutched at her chest. "Doveling, let go."

Her fingers slackened enough for Bellatrix to pull them away, and a stream of purple light spouted from the tip of Bellatrix's wand. A cool, tingling sensation spread across Hermione's chest. Slowly, the pain ebbed.

"Better?" rasped Bellatrix.

Shakily, Hermione nodded. Bellatrix's hands were warm and reassuring on hers, but she found herself unable to stop her tears.

"I shouldn't have pushed so hard," began Bellatrix awkwardly. "Does it still hurt that badly?"

Hermione shook her head, embarrassed. "N-no," she stuttered. Her eyes stared unblinking at her shoes. Stop crying, she told herself. Stop it!

Then she let out a squeak as Bellatrix dropped her hands and wrapped her arms around the shaking girl. Her voice, soft as velvet, poured into Hermione's mind.

"It's just me Doveling." Her arms tightened, and Hermione was certain she had never felt safer than she did in that moment.

They're all going to hate me! She thought, letting out a sob. Her breath was coming in quick staccato, and she tried unsuccessfully to breathe deeply. Gentle hands began to rub soothing circles on her back.

"Who will hate you?"

Everyone! Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. I'm a fraud! Every part of me is a fraud! The Dark Lord will hate me when he finds out I'm just a stupid mudblood. Papa and Mother will hate me for sullying the Malfoy name when the news spreads a scandal, uncle Albus will hate me for failing to be a good spy- she coughed wetly, and sniffled- Harry will hate me when he finds out that I've been training to be a Death Eater, and Draco! She buried her face in Bellatrix's robes, When Draco finds out that I actually enjoyed the Dark Lord's company… he's never going to speak to me again!

"Shhhhhhh…" crooned Bellatrix, rocking her gently. "Breathe, Dove. You're going to make yourself sick." She fumbled around in her pockets, and thrust a snowy handkerchief beneath Hermione's nose. "You're ruining my robes." She rasped playfully.

Hermione fought to catch her breath, and turned watery eyes up towards Bellatrix. "I'm sorry," she cried. "I didn't mean to-"

Bellatrix pressed a finger to her lips, "Let me talk right now, you concentrate on breathing. Got it?" She smiled when Hermione nodded, "Good girl. Now, noone is going to hate you. The Dark Lord will not find out that you are a muggleborn, and your parents would attack anyone who tried to shame you. Believe me, Narcissa thrives on pointing out how she could ruin people for trying to connect her to a scandal. She won't let anything happen to you, or to the Malfoy name." She added under her breath, "Not that it's as illustrious as her maiden name, but we can re-visit that later."

Hermione actually let out a strained giggle at that, and pressed her cheek against the coarse fabric of Bellatrix's robe.

"Draco is a teenager, he's just as moody and stupid as you are, so even if he does pretend to hate you for a bit… well, he'll get over it. Dumbledore is a complete fool, so we won't even worry about him."

Harry?

Bellatrix stiffened a little, "If he ever finds out that you're a Death Eater Potter will fight to convince you to give up the Dark Lord and return to him."

And if I do that… Hermione squeezed her eyes shut again, If I decide to leave the Death Eaters… You would hate me.

She heard the sharp inhale, and the extended silence that followed, and tensed. Of course Bellatrix would hate her if she chose Harry over the Dark Lord. What had she been thinking?! She opened her mouth to take it back, to reassure her that she would never-

"Of course I wouldn't."

No four words had ever sounded so sweet. No?

"No. I wouldn't let you join Potter, of course. That would be a certain death sentence. But I could never hate you. You're mine. My little dove."

And, for the first time since the battle in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione felt like everything would be ok.

A/N: Thank you for your patience! It's been a rough couple of weeks. Please let me know what you think. I had a hard time figuring out exactly how to write this chapter, but I hope that the "first" meeting was acceptable!

Also, someone asked me for a color chart for Turnip. It is:

Sky Blue- Hermione's "baseline" color. For when she feels like her normal self.

Pink- affection or embarrassment (when Hermione blushes)

Yellow- Happiness

Dark Blue- Sad

Grey- Depressed

Black- Scared

Red: Angry

White: No emotion

These are the main colors. Others might pop up in the future.