Disclaimer: I own anything you don't recognise. Nothing more, nothing less. OK?

AN: Sorry sorry and sorry again that this took so long. My computer broke, and so there was a massive delay in my writing and uploading this chapter. Any way, it's a long chapter and I hope you all like it. I'm proud of it's length, but I think I could have gone into more detail. Please tell me what you think. Feedback helps me meet the demands of my reader. Oh, and I'VE MOVED THE TIME-SCALE FORWARDS TEN (10) YEARS FORWARDS FOR THE SAKE OF THE PLOT! IT IS NOW (IN THE STORY) 2007!!! Bellatrix may seem a little bit OC too, and as for why she joined the DEs...you'll have to wait and see, won't you?

Anyway, read on...

Hermione awoke in a strange bed, and sat up straight, looking around her frantically. The last thing she remembered was Snape…oh. Well, she knew where she was now, now that the bleary tiredness had worn off and she felt like crap. Actually, make that crap with a hangover. I though we agreed that you weren't going to get drunk again?!?!

Hermione whimpered pitifully, and flopped back down on her bed, rubbing her temples and moaning.

She continued the circular movements with her fingers until the pounding stabs of pain started to wear off, and were replaced with a dull ache around her eyes. The dull ache had just started to retreat when there were three loud "BANGS" on her door, each of which rattled its hinges. And returned her headache.

'Get up, Granger! You've already missed breakfast.'

As if on cue, Hermione's stomach rumbled, and she suddenly realised that she wasn't feeling sick from her hangover, but rather from hunger. She groaned.

'UP, or I'll come in there. You're already having no breakfast; don't make me make it no lunch either!'

BITCH, BITCH, BITCH, BITCH, BITCH!!! How dare Bellatrix threaten to take away her lunch?!?!

'Now, Bella, it's hardly fare on her to refuse her her breakfast: she's training today, and you know how unpleasant it is to train with an empty stomach.'

Bless whoever was standing up for her!

Hermione stood unsteadily and straightened her crumpled black dress then slid into the tight shoes, and hobbled to the door. She was about to open it when it burst open and Bellatrix thrust her scarlet nailed (Hermione thought 'clawed' was a better adjective, personally) hand through, dropped some workout shorts, trainers and a sports bra/crop-top thing, and withdrew. All this happened so fast that Hermione's vision blurred horribly and she bad to lean against the wall to avoid falling.

As her vision cleared and she became steady again, she bent stiffly and retrieved her new clothes, then walked over to the bamboo and paper screen in the corner. As she walked, she looked at the room. It was very Zen, and she rather liked it.

After she had slid into the cool, breathable outfit, she tied her hair back and looked at her reflection. She didn't think there was much point in showering, since she was going to have a workout. She gave her body a quick look over, and smirked in a pleased fashion when she saw her legs and stomach: the two things she was pleased with were that her only main vice was dark chocolate, and she was very capable of starving herself. This should be a treat, and no one could accuse her of being fat!

Smiling again, in spite of the fact that she was starving, she marched downstairs, miraculously only getting lost twice, and entered the dining room, where she found Bellatrix the bitch, Narcissa, Meddya (moo!), Draco, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zambini all sitting round the long dining table with a load of others and talking. They stopped instantly when they noticed her and she was truly shocked by the numbers of her ex-classmates, year mates, and upperclassmen she saw, many of whose names she didn't know, but she did know that many of them weren't pure-bloods in any sense of the word: half-blood at the best, most of them.

It was a comforting thought, though, in spite of the fact that they might well have voluntarily (or forcedly) singed up for their deaths, that she wasn't alone in this, that she wasn't the one (well, not non-pure-blood, because Snape was only a half-blood) 'Mudblood' in the place. It made her feel that the chances of her just being raped, killed, tortured or worse just for the sake of it were lessened, if only a little.

Meddya sneered, 'Well, if it isn't the little Mudblood bitch. I'm sorry, ladies, but the air in here is suddenly foul. I think I'll take a walk.'

Hermione felt stung by the woman's casual insults, and her eyes stung with angry tears, even though she had been expecting it.

'Ignore her,' said Pansy Parkinson quietly, 'she's just jealous because she was going to be Professor Snape's apprentice, but he can only have one, and it's you.'

Hermione nodded, and said quietly: 'Who do you have to kill to get a cup of black coffee and some toast around here?'

'That would be Wormtail.' Bellatrix truly was a masterpiece, Hermione thought; the woman could file her nails, eat breakfast and chat to her friends all at once. 'WORMTAIL!!!' On second thoughts, add shout to that list.

The short, portly man came scurrying in, and dashed to Bellatrix's side.

'Miss Granger would like a strong black coffee and toast with…?'

'Just plain, please.'

'…toast with scrambled eggs and plenty of butter

Hermione looked over at Bellatrix who smirked, 'You are entirely too thin, girl. If someone hits you, I am rather afraid that you would fall apart. Besides, we are warrior women, not supermodels. We are muscular and curvy and strong, not skinny little stick figures with pouty lips.'

At that moment Wormtail came scurrying back in with the food, which he set in front of Hermione along with a knife and fork. He then ran back out of the room casting fearful glances at Bellatrix as he went.

Hermione sat for some time staring at her food, and sipping her coffee, before the fork levitated, hit her over the head and then forced itself into her hand.

'Eat,' said Bellatrix, 'or I'll feed you like the two year old you're pretending to be. You look like a stick, and unless you want to become a member of the harem, stick thin isn't the dress code. Eat!'

Hermione, not willing to incur Bellatrix's anger, took a couple of bites of toast and egg, willing herself not to find it delicious. She failed: the eggs were some of the best she'd ever had, and the crisp, butter-dripping toast was lovely.

Bellatrix smiled in a satisfied way, 'Ata girl, Granger! Nice to eat something in the morning, isn't it?'

Hermione chose not to answer and went back to eating. In truth, it felt wonderful to eat a proper breakfast, not just coffee and plain toast, like she had every morning for the last three years (that was when she ate anything at all).

When she had finished Bellatrix went so far as to give her another small helping of delicious buttery eggs…no, no, stop it! I want to stay thin! Thin, I tell you!!!

But Bellatrix would have none of her protests and saw to it that she ate every single scrap on her plate, and the second helping saying: 'Christ Almighty! I knew Muggles had a thing about skinny women, but I never pegged you as one of those.'

'Neither did I, until I discovered how much more confident I was if I was thin.'

'Thin isn't everything, you know?' said Narcissa, 'Plenty of witches are gorgeous and curvy. Muggles have the wrong idea about lots of things.'

Bellatrix snorted, 'You've got that right. Now where is that immature prat who I have to call my superior? He's supposed to be up and about now, isn't he?'

'Severus is sleeping in, it being Sunday and all,' said Narcissa.

'Well, somebody go and wake him, then, because I'm not doing all the hard work with his apprentice myself. Wormtail, go and wake Severus now.'

'Yes, um, Bellatrix. I – ah, I tried, but he, um, he k-kicked me, fired some nasty s-sp-spells and put a pillow over his head. I r-really don't want him to start firing Unforgivables, if y-you know what I m-mean.'

'Argh, I can see I have to do everything around here, as always!' Bellatrix snapped, standing up and striding from the room yelling: 'Severus Snape, if you're not up by the time I get to your room, I'm going to crucio your balls off!' Narcissa sighed in a long suffering way, and followed her older sister. This left the children alone in the breakfast room, with nothing to do.

Draco smirked, 'C'mon, let's watch. It's always fun to see auntie Bella and uncle Sev going at it. They have the most spectacular arguments!' Pansy, Draco and Blaise stood and dashed from the room, Hermione right on their heels. The older initiates stayed behind at the table, either too scared, or too mature to follow.

Countless stair cases later, they reached Snape's room just in time to see Bellatrix smack the lump under the covers three times hard and grab Snape's feet, ready to pull him out of bed, since everything else seemed to have failed, judging by the burst pillow, half full water bucket plus the sopping duvet, and the broken alarm clock. But, sadly, Bellatrix was thwarted again; Snape's hands promptly shot out from under the pillow which had previously been held over his head by them and latched onto the sides of the headboard.

Bellatrix exerted her considerable strength, arm muscles bulging.

Snape kicked his legs and held on to the bed: he didn't seem to be finding fighting Bellatrix much of a challenge.

Bellatrix was now going red, as she tried to drag him out of the bed, with as much success as her previous attempts.

She turned to Draco, 'Since you're good for nothing else, Draco, make him to let go of the headboard!'

Draco walked timidly over to the bed and looked at Snape, who stared right back in a bored way. It was obvious that this was a well rehearsed scenario: in other words, a regular occurrence.

'Draco, if you do what Bellatrix says I'll kill you.'

Bellatrix let go of his legs in favour of her wand, which she poked him in the back with.

'Get up, or I'll make sure that your chances of having children are nil. UP!'

'No. Make me.'

Bellatrix yanked off the duvet and landed her hand with a painful sounding smack on Snape's backside, then marched out of the room with a purposeful look on her face.

'Severus, come on, or you'll not only miss watching Hermione train, but you will be missing some rather dear pieces of your anatomy. Besides, Bellatrix looked like she meant business, and you can't possibly still be thinking of going back to sleep; the bed's drenched!'

'Go away, Narcissa.'

'I don't think so.'

'What if I say please?'

'No. Up. Now.'

'Bitch.'

'Fine. I have the 'all clear' to get Wormtail to bring your dear friend Tommy-boy up here then, I supose?'

'Wait, Wormtail is allowed in my room? Since when? Oh, it was him I fired those spells at, not Bellatrix? Ew!'

'Yes, it was. You scared the little dic…'

Narcissa didn't get to finish her sentence; Snape was up like a shot, and running from the room in his boxers and baggy T-shirt yelling: 'Disinfectant! I need disinfectant! Crud, I bet I caught some potentially fatal disease now. Disinfectant! I need some dis-in-bloody-fectant! Preferably one that kills all known jerms dead!'

They could still hear him yelling a full minute later.

'Well, ah, that got him out of bed,' Narcissa looked like she was barely containing her giggles as she did what Hermione would later find she was famous for: stating the obvious. Pansy had already lost control. Hermione, however, was completely at a loss! Why was Snape kicking up such of fuss over the fact that Wormtail had come into his room to wake him? Either the man was touched in the head, or she had missed something…

Alright, she had definitely missed something, but still…

Bellatrix appeared a moment later, and looked round the room at her giggling comrades. 'Wormtail isn't the most hygenic person, but I didn't know that Severus would have such a bad 'alergic' reaction.'

She sniggered, 'He's probably going to use several litres of soap in the shower.'

As if on cue, the shower turned on, 'Well, we should go out to the parcatice track. His royal highness should be down shortly, since I removed the hot water charm.' Bellatrix grinned.

'Bellatrix, you are quite horid!' Narcissa smiled. 'He'll freez his balls off!'

'So?'

'Bellatrix…'

'He deserves it! He should have got up when I told him to, and we both know that he was only being defiant. I swear Dumbledore must have spoiled him rotten!'

'Yes, he did, actually, Lestrange, but you went too far. My balls will never be the same again!'

Bellatrix turned and looked at Snape, who was standing with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was smirking, 'Prepared to die when we practice dueling later, Trixa?'

'Smug bastard! You know you're no match for me. You're the one who should be preparing to be flattened later, not I!'

'Me? I really wasn't aware that you were so sure of your own abilities, Bellatrix. Well, as the age old saing goes "pride comes before the fall".'

'If that's the case, shouldn't you be a little less arrogant too?'

'No, not really. I know my own strengths and weaknesses well.'

'Oh please, you are far too…'

Hermione (whose know-it-all, school/learning loving side had just come into play, having teamed up with "Miss Bicthy 2007") stepped in.

'Can you both just shut up? Snape, put some clothes on. Lestrange, keep you're abnormally large mouth shut. My training being completed sometime this millenium would be nice!'

'That's my girl, Granger,' Snape said, walking to the closet. 'Always eager to learn, but I fancy what we're going to teach you is a little harder than what you've learned so far.' He opened his wardrobe doors and removed a pair of trackies and a T-shirt, then walked over to the chest of drawers and removed a new pair of (OMG!!!) black silk boxers!

Hermione winced: knowing her ex-professor had pecks, a six-pack, and biceps to spare was one thing, but knowing he wore black silk boxers was quite another. She looked around at the othder occupants of the room. Bellatrix seemed completely unfazed by everything, Narcissa was filing her nails with her wand, Pansy was smirking knowingly at Hermione, as was Draco, whose eyes were flicking between her and Snape, who was now sliding into his trackies and T-shirt. Blaise just looked clueless.

Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and stood; she needed to be prepared for her meeting with Vol – the Dark Lord. It wouldn't do for her to be unable to cast the Cruciatus, or the Imperius or even Avada Kedavra in his presence. That, and the fact that so far this was all too easy; so far, there had been lots of talking, but very little work done. These people were pure evil for God's sake! Weren't they? They had to be! Didn't they? Where was all the turture and death? The horific cruelty that she was certain would be present? Oh, christ! Her head was now swimming with questions, too many questions. Everything was going just peachy, Granger. Why did your inquisitive side have to kick in?

Bellatrix interupted Hermione's thoughts, 'Let's go, then. We should have been down there an hour ago.'

More questions sprung into her head, now, as they walked out of the room and down the stairs. The people were too nice and understanding: Bellatrix should be the horid, Muggle story-book witch, shouldn't she? The sort of witch that burned children alive? Well, she wasn't. Sure, she was bitch, but so were most pure-blood women. And Narcissa Malfoy, she wasn't in character either: when they had met her with Draco in Diagon Alley, she had been exactly as Hermione imagined her. Foul and snobby, Lucius Malfoy's wife through and through. Now, though, she was a woman after Hermione's own heart, who stood up for people (well, she had stood up for Hermione, anyway). NO! No, it was all so confusing! They were supposed to be bad, bad people! Slytherins were bad!

The small party walked out the doors of the manor house and Snape took hold of Hermione's arm. She wondered what was going on, until she felt the squeez of disapparition. They appararated in front of an old, abandoned Muggle factory, a steel works, by the looks of it. They walked towards it, Hermione slightly ahead. Snape and Bellatrix fell into step, heads together as they talked. Hermione had a sudden desire to know what they were discussing in hushed tones. She cast an evesdropping spell and tuned in…

'…Bellatrix, you know what he'll do if he finds out? You'll be for the high jump then..'

'I really don't give a damn, Severus! He's losing his touch, and you know it. I was only ever loyal to him because he promised me…something I wanted, still want. Something I'd kill for…'

'Care to tell me what?'

'No.'

'Must be something bad.'

'Don't infer anything, Snape.'

'Fine.'

'Anyway, I'm certain that he can't give me…what I want, and he never could. God, Severus, why did you have to kill Dmbledore?'

'Because of a little vow, and Draco's inability, Bellatrix.'

'Don't you dare throw that in my face, Snape…you were the one who agreed to it…'

'Because back then, Bellatrix, you would have killed me, or had me killed, if I refused.'

'You could have just said that you wouldn't do it unless you had the Dark Lord's permission. I couldn't have argued with that, and you know it!'

'You would have tried, though, and gone right back to him to tell him I wouldn't take a vow, endangering your sister's life in the same sentence. You'd have relished it when he summoned me, again, and spent a night torturing me, just to make sure!'

'Don't pretend to know me. I hate watching him torture people!'

'Only because you wish you were doing it!'

'Bastard! You have no idea how my mind works, no idea what I feel, so don't say you do!'

'Why not? You're the one who's having second thoughts – very later second thoughts, I might add – about being a Death Eater, not me. What makes you think I won't march right back to the Dark Lord and tell him that his darling, faithful Bellatrix doesn't like him anymore? I could do that, right now, and you couldn't stop me. It would gain me even more favour with him, and get rid of a powerful rival, wouldn't it?'

'You wouldn't…'

'I can, and I would.'

'You don't have the guts!'

'Try me.'

'Bloody impure scum. How dare you think you're better than me? Oh, I forgot; you think just because you're rich and talented you're better than everyone. I remember now…'

'Don't compare me to Sirius, Bellatrix. You know we were as different as fire and ice.'

'Yeah right!'

'Shut up. We're being watched…'

Hermione released the spell quickly, hoping her magic wasn't jerky enough to atract undue attention, and walked on swiftly. They were now inside the building, and she had even more to think about. Damn…

Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange! The woman who had spent thirteen years in Azkaban for Voldemort, was thinking of renouncing him. A though struck Hermione: if Bellatrix, Voldemort's most loyal follower, was losing faith in him, how many other Death Eaters were? Or had already? It could be the key to winning the war! Hermione decided that once she was imersed in the ranks of the Dark Side, she would have to ascertain the loyalties, or rather disloyalties of Voldemorts most faithful.

With that thought in mind, she quickened her pace, appearing, to all eyes, to be her quiet, studious self, always eager to learn.

She walked through the big wrought iron doors and into the factory, which wasn't really a factory: it was a huge track, Olympic size, with magical exercise equipment and a swimming pool at one end, and a dueling arena taking up the area in the middle of the track.

'What do you think, Granger?' Bellatrix had come up behind her where she had stopped to admire the training facilities she would be using.

'Um, great, yeah. It certainly seemed you have eveything figured out.' However, she wasn't sure that even with her superior intellect she would be able to acomplish in three days, what she was supposed to have acomplished in several weeks, since Snape had "head-hunted" her, which appeared to have been set as the beginning of the summer hols. She winced as she noticed that their party was far from the only one present; three quarters (the other quarter being in Azkaban) of Voldemort's army seemed to be their, and they had all stopped what they were doing to stare.

'What do you think you're doing? Get back to work!' Snape's smooth, silky voice rang out in the large space, and all the inquisitive eyes snapped back to the controls of the machinery, or to their dueling partner. 'Hermione, I would like a word in the office.'

He offered Hermione his arm, which she accepted, and they began walking over to a door on the other side of the building. Bellatrix, made to follow, but Snape held up his hand to halt her.

Once they were inside the small room, which contained a desk, two chairs and a couple of lights, Snape spoke: 'There is one thing I want to to remember when we, you, are out there, Hermione. What do you suppose that thing is?'

Hermione stood silent, lost in though for a minute or so, then turned back to Snape; she could think of plenty of things, but none seemed right, 'I don't know, Severus.'

She was pleasently surprised that his name slid off her tongue so easily. He spoke quietly: 'The one thing you must remember, is that you have been training for a month or more, as far as they know. Therefore, you must act with confidence and skill, as you train and if and when you are asked to denonstrate some knowledge to your fellow aprentices, or to a Master-slash-Mistress such as myself of Bellatrix. I hope that, with your extensive knowledge of all subjecs, you can pull this off.'

Hermione smiled at the backward complement and in an atempt to lighten the mood, saluted, 'Yes Sir, you can count on me.'

'Good girl. Let's go.'

They walked out onto the track, where Bellatrix and Narcissa were waiting, looking around hautily at the struggling trainees as they trained, exercised and battled each other. Hermione felt rather sorry for them, in a detatched sort of way: they had probably been told that they either killed (having learned to kill) or were killed, resulting in this frezied waste of energy she was now watching.

She turned to Bellatrix, 'Why do they waste all that energy shouting, and jumping around? They should be putting it into their spells! Or saving it for later, when they might need it.'

'You think you could do better?' Bellatrix gave a wolfish grin, and looked over at Snape, who was talking to a tall, blonde man and a short, stocky one with a scragly beard, who leered at Hermione when their eyes met. 'Prove it.'

Hermione was jerked from her thoughts, 'What?'

Bellatrix smirked, 'If you think you're so good, then go into that dueling ring, and prove it…you know you want to.'

Hermione was slightly shocked, but couldn't see the harm in it, 'I'll ask Severus.'

Bellatrix grabbed her arm, 'I'll tell him where you went. Just go.'

'Thanks.' Hermione jogged away over to the arena and slid between the wires; it was rather like a boxing ring, only much bigger and she felt the wards to prevent spells escaping snap firmly into place once she was inside.

She didn't know how to start a duel, so she just fired some random harmless spells into the crowd of fighters. A couple hit their mark, but they were only stingers, so nothing changed. So, Hermione entered the fray…

She could see Draco, and Blaise and Pansy, all fighting like their lives depended on it in the centre, so she made for them. At least she knew them, and something of their skill.

'Hi Malfoy, Parkinson, Zambini,' God, she like at idiot using their last names, 'so how does this work, huh? How do you start duel in all this mess?'

'Use our first names,' Pansy smirked, 'and you don't start a duel: we're all against each other in this – block right, Blaise! – well, I have to help the boys, too, because they're idiots, but hey – arrrrgh! Draco, it's Bella-tora, not Bella-toe-ia; no, your wand movements are all wrong…just use something else, something you know how to use-' one of Draco's spells whistled over their heads, 'please, do kill me while you're at it!' Draco seemed to miss her sarcasm completely, because he merely gave her a lopsided grin (it reminded eerily Hermione of Ron's) and turned back to his oponents.

'You seem to have my old job, Pansy!' Hermione smiled, and was rewarded with a grim smirk.

'I've had it for longer than you; since I was five!'

'Crap, that sounds bad.'

'Dreadful. Draco's the dumbest blond ever!' The last bit was directed at said blond.

'HEY!'

Hermione smiled again. Maybe Slytherin's weren't so cold after all…

A spell hit Hermione in the back and she doubled over, wincing as her hand came away covered in blood. She looked up and realised that in a split second she had been separated from her comrades. A wand poked into her back, and a curtain of blaming hair fell over her shoulder, cascading like blood over her bosom.

'Hello, Mudblood. What an unpleasent surprise.'

Hermione looked up into Meddya Jenkins' turquiose eyes; they reminded her of blue flame.

Hermione's brain fought to decide on an appropriate course of action, and she decided to placate Meddya, or at least try, 'Meddya, this isn't the way to solve whatever grievence I have caused you. Surely your anger is at Severus, not me…'

Meddya swung her fist back and punched Hermione in the temple; Hermione saw stars and fell forward, smacking her nose on the floor. Pain exploded, and her eyes watered horibly. 'Meddya…you don't want to do this!'

'Oh, but I do…my ex seems to have formed an attachment to you, and I really can't have little Mudbloods stealing his heart, now can I? I'm sure that you, Granger, as smart as you are, understand that.'

Hermione mentally sneered at the comment about her intelligence, and took a double take; Snape had a soft spot for her? No way. 'I don't know what you're talking about. Our relationship is professional; stundent-teacher, even. There is nothing even vaguely romantic between us!'

'I didn't say 'between you'; I said that he seems to have formed an 'attachment' to you. I didn't say you returned those feelings, now did I?' Meddya swung her fist again, and it connected with Hermione's jaw with a sickening crunch.

But the pain didn't come. Instead, anger exploded inside Hermione in that second, like a raging fire. It was a feeling she had never felt before, burning and clawing at her insides, begging to be released, and she did just that. One thought came into her head as she spun around and kicked Meddya in her ample bosom, with a reach of her leg that she had never guessed she could have achieved. Meddya crumpled, and the thought, desire, longing to cause Meddya pain became overwhelming. Lots and lots of pain…

Hermione aimed her wand without thinking, and screamed: 'CRUCIO!'

The bolt of orange light struck and a gurgling scream of agony ripped from Meddya's throat as she writhed on the floor, unheeded by the other fighters in the ring. But Hermione didn't hold the curse for long; once she realised what she was doing, what she had done the anger vanished, and she released Meddya's twitching body from the curse. 'Oh crap. I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking…' but Meddya was on her feet again, and launching herself bodily at Hermione, her long, pointed red nails (apparaently they were a standard fashion statement around here) dragging over Hermione's sensitive skin and leaving bloody gouges in their wake.

Hermione's anger came back suddenly, and with full force. In fact, it was so intense that Hermione was momentarily blinded by it, and in that moment Meddya punched her twice in the abdomen, causing her to double over, whimpering in pain and gasping for breath. 'Bitch…'

Hermione drew a couple of shuddering, rasping breaths as Meddya prepared Herself to strike again, and dropped to the floor as Meddya's bloody fist missed her by inches.

Meddya grinned, thought a muscle in her jaw was jerking unpleasantly, 'That's me.'

Hermione swung at her, but Meddya was quick was ducked, catching Hermione in the groin with a short, hard kick. Hermione gasped, but kicked out, catching a rather smug looking Meddya in the temple, but before she could pull away, Meddya grabbed her ankle and tristed harsly, turning Hermione over in mid air and landing her flat on her stomach; there was another ominous CRACK, this time from Hermione's chest, and a burning pain flared in her breast bone. 'Argh!'

'Poor darling…does it hurt?' Meddya leaped on Hermione's back, landing solidly, and painfully in the centre. Another crack. Hermione had just got to the stage of wandering what the hell had happened to their wands when…

Meddya let out a cry of pain, and spun round, still standing on Hermion's back. Hermione twisted her head round to look at her rescuer just as a red nailed hand clawed down Meddya's cheek and throat, viciously. Blood began to drip.

The same red-nailed hand became a fist and crashed into Meddya's stomach, and then her face, sending her flying over Hermione's head and into the railing behind them. Hermione slumped forwards, suddenly boneless and very aware of her injuries.

A light hand settled on Hermione's shoulder, then gripped tightly and flipped her over. Hermione looked up at Bellatrix, who looked grim.

'If I had known she was up here, I would never have sent you up here. Crap…you look a mess!'

'Thanks.'

Hermione heard the movement behind them too late, and Meddya punched Bellatrix solidy in the cheek, sending her sprawling on the floor as she advanced.

Suddenly, a set of long, muscular arms wrapped around Meddya's middle and squeezed. Meddya stopped struggling instantly and slumped against Snape's chest. He looked murderous…

'Jenkins!'

'Hmmm, what's up gorgeous...?' she slid round in his grasp and slid up to him, in what she no doubt thought was a sensual way. He looked disgusted.

She seemed not to notice, though, because she began to kiss his neck. What happened next was rather brilliant, in Hermione's opinion: Snape flicked her round, kicked her in the backs of her knees, and knocked her to the floor. He bent over her, and talked in her ear, 'You seem to be under some delusion, Jenkins, that I enjoy having your slober plastered onto my neck. I can assure you that I don't. Now remove yourself from this arena, before I remove you permenantly.'

Hermione winced. Snape stood and released Meddya, who stood.

Meddya put on a hurt expression, 'Darling, you wouldn't do that. You like me!'

He was standing in front of her, towering over her, in the next second, 'Miss Jenkins, I have never liked you. Please vacate the premises imediately.'

'But Sev…'

He flicked his wand at her, and she squeaked, avoiding the red curse an inch, 'I am your General, and you will adress me as such, Jenkins.'

She looked defeated for a second, then perked up, 'Of course, General Snape.' She turned and sauntered off.

Hermione felt slightly sick as she watched the show the woman put on. She was also slightly jealous Meddya's walk.

A hand stretched down to Hermione from above, and she took it. Snape pulled her to her feet easily, and she stood leaning on him slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her, then righted herself.

Meanwhile, across the arena Bellatrix was halling herself to her feet, cursing Meddya under her breath. She staggered over to them and grabbed Snape to steady herself.

'Bloody f-ing bitch!'

'My sentiments exactly, Bella,' Snape looked down at Hermione. 'Any dammage?'

'Uh,' Hermione was suddenly very aware of pain all over her body, 'None permenant, as far as I know. Take you pick of the others.'

'Bellatrix?'

'Jaw-ache; nothing serious.'

'Good. Hermione, let's get you to the Healer.'

Hermione felt herself lifted off the ground, and into his strong arms. She felt them walking, then everything blacked out…

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It only takes a second:)