Late 1930

Most mornings, she tucked herself away in a corner of one of the many sitting rooms, pouring over various books she'd picked out of the library. This morning, she was spending time in the library itself, reading about women's health in the wizarding world. She was already on her second book of the day, reading the section on contraceptive charms and potions when a loud knock on the door drew her attention. She looked up from her book, frowning. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Madame, Mademoiselle Goldstein est là," Dot called from behind the door.

"Laissez-la entrer!" she ordered, closing the book and Banishing it to its place on one of the many bookshelves. She didn't want to be caught reading that book in front of a Legilimens, of all people. Queenie strode in not a second later. She stood up, leading her guest to the sofas on either side of the fireplace. "Queenie, what can I do for you?"

"I don't know how to ask you this-oh!"

She blinked, watching as the blonde woman plopped down into the sofa opposite her with a shocked expression on her face. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen the other woman display.

"Is something wrong?" she asked wearily, slightly concerned about Queenie's strange outburst.

Queenie seemed to hesitate before speaking. "You're not pregnant again... are you?"

Her eyes widened as heat flooded her cheeks. Queenie had read her mind back in that English hospital, yes, but she had never expected her to acknowledge it let alone mention what she had seen. The hospital visit was private, something she hadn't even told her closest friends about, and it wasn't something she wanted to remember.

"Is that what you came to ask me?" she spat, trying to reign in her anger. She felt nothing short of humiliated. Queenie, being a Legilimens, had to know that she had crossed a line.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Queenie exclaimed, biting her lip but not looking away out of shame as she ought to have done. She sighed before repeating, "I'm sorry."

"Why don't you stop reading my mind and tell me why you're here?" she suggested forcefully, not appreciating how Queenie had raked up painful memories by asking such an insensitive question.

"I was wondering if you were inviting Tina over again this Christmas," Queenie stated, looking into her eyes without invading her mind for the first time.

The statement didn't really surprise her. Last Christmas, Tina had told her of her joy at Queenie writing her a heartfelt letter just days before Christmas. She had humbly protested when Tina thanked her for talking to Queenie on Valentine's Day, adamant that Queenie had written the letter because she wanted to and not because she had been prodded to do so by her.

"I don't think I will be, no," she responded honestly, recalling how Corvus had tried to assassinate Dumbledore in their Dining Room last Christmas. She didn't want a repeat of that, even though Corvus had stopped himself because of her. "Why do you ask? You're corresponding with her, aren't you?"

Queenie shifted in her seat. "Grindelwald reads my letters. He thinks the correspondence is one-sided." He thinks. She wondered if Queenie dared to read Grindelwald's mind too.

Grindelwald read Queenie's letters. It was not unexpected. If he had such control over an acolyte who lived in France, her own Corvus, of course, he had even more over acolytes who actually lived with him in Austria. Queenie probably wanted to talk to Tina through her. But why hadn't she asked her before? She had even stayed at the manor for a night following that wretched New Year's ball.

"He was here too," Queenie answered, obviously having read her mind again. "He could've heard us. I don't want him to think I'm disloyal to him." The blonde suddenly broke out into a smile, her eyes sparkling. "Tina's finally marrying. I want to be there."

"Yes, I know." Newt had sent her a letter not too long ago, complaining that Tina had picked a date but was still reluctant to get married without her sister present. He said he understood her need, though, because he wouldn't want to get married without Theseus being there either. "Would Grindelwald let you?"

"With your help."

She didn't like Queenie, not even close, but she would help her attend the wedding for the sake of her soon to be married friends, especially the one who'd offered her a place to stay after she'd been left with nowhere else to go. She'd be damned if Newt couldn't get married because she refused to put her personal feelings aside for a short while.

"For Newt and Tina," she agreed coolly.

Queenie nodded. "For Newt and Tina."

.:. QK .:.

A few days later, she sat in her private sitting room, brewing a quarterly potion. According to the potions book she'd taken from the library, the quarterly potion stopped a woman's monthly bleed for twelve weeks. It was the perfect remedy for her; she had no need for painful monthly bleeds and the cramps and mood swings that accompanied them. It wasn't as if she was ever going to have children.

Concocting the potion didn't seem like a chore to her. In fact, she rather enjoyed brewing potions. If there was one 'witch thing' she was good at, it was this. She'd been delighted when she first discovered this. She'd always been insecure about her magical ability, especially when it came to casting offensive and defensive duelling spells, and often thought she wasn't worthy of being called a witch because of it. However, here in her sitting room, standing above a boiling cauldron, she felt like she was capable of more than just turning into a viper.

As she stirred the contents of the cauldron with a stirring rod, she heard a knock on the door before the soft click indicating the opening of said door. She turned briefly, surprised to see Corvus entering the room.

"I thought you were at the Ministère," she said, turning back to her cauldron and extinguishing the flame underneath it.

"I was," he informed, approaching her desk with what appeared to be a booklet rolled up in his hands. He put it down on the table and she recognised it as a weekly magazine. She didn't read magazines unless she was at Jemila's, preferring fact to gossip, but this was the first time she was seeing a photo of herself on the front page of one. "You're much better at reading French so..."

Picking up her wand, she Translated the front page of the magazine as well as the inside page which contained more photos of her, one of them being of her at Yusuf's wedding as well as another of her cosying up to Corvus during the Quidditch World Cup. Corvus raised an eyebrow at either her use of magic or at what was written in the magazine. She couldn't tell which.

"What does it say?" she questioned, putting her wand down and ladling a large dollop of the now cool potion into a glass.

"They're complimenting you on your fashion choices," he responded, sounding honest. She smiled despite herself, astonished that they hadn't called the dress robes she'd worn to Yusuf's wedding old-fashioned. "You're still known as Madame Lestrange. They want to know what your first name is."

They would never find out her given name. She barely knew it herself.

She drank the potion, wrinkling her nose up at the bitter taste it left in her mouth. According to the book, that was exactly how it was supposed to taste. She put the glass down, proceeding to store the rest of the potion in small glass vials. Only time would tell if the potion had taken effect—her next monthly was due in a few days' time.

"Anything else?" she asked lightly, Banishing her potion apparatus and ingredients to the utility. Dot always complained that she left her no work to do whenever she sent Scoured items back to the kitchen or utility.

"No, nothing." For some reason, she felt like he was lying. Banishing the last of the supplies—the stirring rod—she peered over his shoulder and scanned the contents of the page just before he closed the magazine and swiped it off her desk. He was too late. She had already seen what she had to see.

PROUD. She had been described as proud by some unknown source who had apparently spoken to her. Proud. It couldn't be farther from the truth. What did she have to be proud of? She wasn't a pure-blood. She didn't have a job. Unlike other wealthy housewives, she didn't have a child to dote on. She never would have children. Proud... What did a Maledictus have to be proud of?

From what she'd seen in the article, there was also some speculation about her origin. No doubt the French wizarding community wanted to know which pure-blood family the great Corvus Lestrange's wife came from.

"Do you want me to make an official statement about you being from a Korean pure-blood line?"

She raised an eyebrow, amazed. Corvus hated the media. He avoided the cameras at every opportunity and spoke as little as possible to his associates let alone pesky journalists. "You'd do that?" she asked, her voice sounding strangely thick to her own ears. "For me?"

He gave her a pointed look as if she had said something stupid. "If you want me to."

She reigned in her unwarranted emotions and mustered up a genuine smile for him. "If you think it'll help."

.:. QK .:.

Early in the morning, Corvus had gone off to make an official statement regarding the blood status of his 'wife' and how he had met her. She was nervous. Corvus had told her that he was going to tell the media that the two of them married before he 'returned' to France. He was also going to lie about his upbringing to maintain his respect within the wizarding world. She didn't like that he was lying about her and their relationship but she brought it upon herself by answering to 'Madame Lestrange'.

She stared at her haggard reflection in the mirror, beginning to pile the makeup on. She'd undergone her mandatory transformation the previous night and only got a few hours of sleep in before she suddenly woke up. She hadn't been able to go back to sleep after that. As she concealed the bags under her eyes, she heard a loud crack behind her.

"Dot?" she called, putting her brush down. The house-elf never Apparated directly into her bedroom.

Turning around, she saw that she was alone in the room. Pushing down the uneasy sensation in her gut, she turned back to the mirror, gasping at the reflection of a person standing behind her. Acting on instinct, she ducked just in time to avoid the jet of green light directed at her. The mirror exploded, sending shards of glass flying across the room, one of the smaller ones striking her left cheek. She grabbed her wand and cast a spell in the general direction of her unknown assailant.

Following a gruelling duel that destroyed much of her bedroom, she lost her footing and fell to the floor, failing to get back to her feet as the masked figure towered above her. The person reached down for her and grabbed her throat, choking her, and she retaliated by knocking the wizard's wand out of their hand. Her own wand was lying on what was left of her bed. She clutched at her throat, gasping for air and closing her eyes, resigned to her only remaining option. Her bones shifted painfully and her skin became scaly as she used the only 'power' she had, slipping out of the wizard's grasp a few seconds later and landing on the floor in viper form.

Sensing the killer backing away from her, she felt an insurmountable rage building up within her. This person had forced her to transform into a state of being that she hated four days earlier than necessary, mere hours after her last transformation, but was trying to escape without consequence. This was not to be borne.

Without a second thought, she rose, going straight for the wizard's jugular. The wizard tried to run away but to no avail. As she dug her fangs into her would-be killer's flesh, she marvelled at their stupidity; they could've Apparated away to safety instead of running like a Non-Magique. After a few more attacks for good measure, she reverted to human form, towering above the dying wretch who had stood above her like this mere minutes ago.

Breathing heavily, she grabbed her discarded wand and magically flung the wizard's—witch's—mask off. She exhaled sharply when she saw the witch's face.

Madame Mead.