Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and/or the characters of the original story created by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Two: Of Whom Shall I Be Afraid?

Eight Weeks Later

Lucius was lounging on his bed, listening to the wireless he'd bought with the royalties from his art sale. He'd just come from the showers after his one hour exercise routine and had thought it the perfect cap to his evening by listening to some soothing classical music. He turned the dial to Rowena Flaghorn's 'Soothing Sonatas' program then settled himself on his lumpy, uncomfortable cot of six years with a semi-contented sigh as the mellow sound of a piano filled his cell.

In that moment, Lucius almost said to himself that life was perfect.

But this was not so. Lucius Malfoy could not consider his present circumstance a perfect one. He'd been jailed for six years, despite his plea bargains, underhanded monetary contributions and blatant selling out of his ex-comrades, and he was due for a beheading in less than a year. He was stuck in a cold, colourless cell, had had to endure forced bi-weekly body inspections, sharing of the showers with other men and atrocious, sometimes inedible daily meals. Indeed, he'd come to adapt but it was a far, far cry from the comfort of his manor. No, this was not a perfect life at all.

The low, melodic notes of the piano carried him back in time and he began to reminisce on a past when life was ideal. His mind's eye went back, way back before he'd fallen into the clutches of the Dark Lord, when he was young and newly married to Narcissa. He vividly remembered the little snippets of moments of importance and happiness in their marriage: the first time they'd made love; the day they'd inherited the manor; the morning Narcissa had emptied her stomach of her recently eaten breakfast and had done a self examination on herself and found out she was pregnant; the day Draco had been born…

Draco.

A pang of regret went through Lucius at the thought of his estranged son. In the years since his imprisonment, his son had visited him not once. A few days before Lucius' trial, Draco had come to Lucius and with cold finality had said he had disowned him and would have nothing to do with him again.

Lucius had understood the boy's anger and resentment, had seen it a long time coming, but that did not stop him from feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut. Placation had been futile and Lucius had not dared bribe his son with the remains of his wealth, a ploy that had always worked when Draco was being unreasonable. He had only hoped that time would heal Draco's wounds and the boy would come to forgive and forget.

Either enough time had not passed or Draco had gone past forgiving his father, whatever the cause, Lucius had yet to see his son's face ever since that fateful day.

"'Ey Malfoy!" hollered someone from the opposite cell. "Turn that thing down will ya."

"I doubt it's that loud, Lestrange," replied Lucius coolly.

"No, but it's bloody depressing," retorted Lestrange. "Last time I checked, the Dementors had been banned."

Lucius shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the vile hooded creatures. He, along with the prisoners of the war had been under the control and torture of the Dementors for four years before they'd been abolished from Azkaban. Those years had been some of his most terrible, where his heart, mind and soul had been filled constantly with thoughts of despair, regret and death. There had been moments when he'd temporarily lost his sanity, despite his fight to keep sane and moments when he'd gone as far as considering suicide.

What a relief it was when two years ago, Ministry officials had suddenly marched inside Azkaban and began ordering the Dementors away. In replacement, Aurors had taken over the position of prison guards, stationing themselves about the grounds and within the castle walls. Measures for the prisoners' care and well-being had suddenly been put in place: three meals per day instead of one, daily exercise routines, allowance to showers everyday instead of once per week. Productivity was also encouraged where the prisoners could create or perform different things and be paid for it. A little shop of trinkets and snacks had opened up on the premises and the prisoners bought whatever they wanted with the funds from their work.

Lucius and many others had openly scoffed at the new additions and measures. After all, a great percentage had come from wealth and the puny repayment they gained from their ventures was shameful to their eyes and pride. Eventually, they'd come around to the fact that regardless of the new—albeit mediocre and distasteful—attributes, life was still a lot better in Azkaban than it used to be.

That isn't to say he hadn't wondered why. Why the regime of Azkaban had undergone such a sudden and rapid change. Why they, former Dark Lord supporters, were being treated well and with respect. Why they, even though their deaths were imminent, were offered a chance to live semi-comfortably.

Bothered with these questions, he'd pursued one of the Aurors and had managed to persuade him to answer them. Lucius had found out that it was the doing of Sister Hermione Granger.

More than surprised at the time, Lucius had followed up with, "Sister Hermione Granger? Has she become a nun?"

"Yah, that's what they're calling her," replied the Auror.

Lucius had tried to question the Auror more but the man had gone tight-lipped. He had relented, deciding to himself that he'd inquire more on the matter when he got the chance.

The piano notes petered off slowly to an end as Lucius' eyes grew heavy. In a matter of seconds, Lucius Malfoy was fast asleep.

The next morning, Lucius awoke to the sound of loud, excited chatter. He sat up, working out the kinks in his shoulders formed from the uncomfortably flat, lumpy mattress he slept on. Standing, he walked up to his cell's entrance and saw Lestrange deep in conversation with Yaxley, Lestrange's cellmate.

"…and maybe we can reunite the brotherhood." Lestrange was saying.

Curious, Lucius interjected with, "What are you two on about?"

Rodolphus Lestrange looked up, "Lucius!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet and coming to his own cell's entrance gate. "We have heard good news!"

"Indeed, it is wondrous news!" cried Rabastan Lestrange from the cell beside Lestrange's. "We are about to be set free!"

Scoffing, Lucius replied, "Impossible. Where have you heard such tripe?"

"It is in the newspaper," explained a smiling Rodolphus. "The Daily Prophet."

At the name of the newspaper, Lucius was further convinced that this 'good news' was completely ridiculous and fabricated to boot. The Daily Prophet was infamous for its unconventional methods of garnering news and its habit to print fictitious, libelous and grossly exaggerated news articles and he told the excited Lestrange brothers just that. The Wizarding community had made a monumental mistake once by disbelieving Voldemort's Second Rising thereby suffering great casualties. They weren't about to make yet another blunder by releasing the ones that had facilitated the previous oversight in the first place.

"But it is true!" Rodolphus protested. "Look here," he produced the paper, wrinkled beyond recognition. "There is even a spoken piece from that mudblood bitch confirming it."

"Hand it to me," said Lucius and Rodolphus flung the paper through his cell's steel slots in Lucius' direction. One of the Aurors that stood guard every twelve hours glared at Rodolphus but said nothing. Lucius bent and retrieved the paper, eyeing the front page with one lifted eyebrow. In enlarged, block letters read the caption: DEATH EATERS SET TO BE FREE!

The following article read:

By Lee Jordan, the Daily Prophet

December 14th, 2004,

The Wizarding community is in an uproar over the recent notification made by the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, at the Ministry of Magic's annual review. During the press conference held on December 13th, 2004, Kingsley Shacklebolt announced to the public that the Ministry would be handing over the rehabilitation and supervision of the imprisoned Death Eaters to the Church of Saint Mary.

"The Ministry has been offered a considerably more humane way to conduct the punishment of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's ex-supporters," said the Minister. "They will not be executed this coming summer. Instead, as of Monday next week, they will begin their two-year rehabilitative period of penitence and community service whilst residing at the Church of Saint Mary."

Questioned further on the safeness of releasing the Death Eaters to the care of a church, the Minister stated calmly, seemingly unperturbed by the various cries of outrage, "The Ministry will take measures to ensure the security of the Wizarding community and also the prisoners themselves. Not only that, they will also be under the watchful eye of the Abbess of the church."

The Abbess, Sister Hermione Granger, is a decorated war heroine and a Junior Potions Mistress who practices Christianity. It was rumoured that she was the mastermind behind the Ministry's sudden decision change. When asked to confirm whether this was true or not, she did not hesitate to say, "Indeed, it was I, under the divine will of God, who made this suggestion to the Ministry. I do not believe in punishment by murder. I have faith that under my tutelage and God's wonderful grace that these poor souls would come to see the error of their ways and repent of their sins."

Additional information could not be gleaned from the Minister. Further inquiries on the matter were met with terse replies from the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Percy Weasley…

Lucius didn't bother to read on. He was not interested in the short background history of Percy Weasley's political climb to Senior Undersecretary. He perused the rest of the paper but learned nothing more. Folding the paper, he threw it into the rubbish bin then thought to himself how fitting for the paper's final destination. After all it was rubbish.

Hermione was sipping at her second cup of tea when Lillian, her second-in-command at the church, came running in, her fingers twisting themselves together in anxiety.

"Sister, we've ran out of bed sheets," she said in worried tones.

"The good Lord shall provide," replied Hermione calmly.

"Will He? That's good," she said, sighing in relief. "It's a good thing you talk to Him as much as you do, Sister. I daresay if you didn't, He may not have been so generous. So when will He be around with the sheets then?"

Hermione felt a bubble of exasperation rise within her but her year of Postulancy had taught her divine serenity. Sometimes, Hermione felt as though Lillian Ainsley had been sent to test her resolve and threaten her ability to keep her temper in check. A young girl of sixteen, Hermione had found Lillian homeless and living on the streets. She'd taken her in six months ago and had yet to regain her perfect equilibrium since.

It wasn't as though Lillian purposely did the things she did. Hermione had realised that the girl was just predisposed to forgetfulness, clumsiness, loudness and lewdness. She was also swift to become anxious should any of her aforementioned traits anger Hermione enough for Hermione to contemplate returning her to the streets.

That was why Hermione rarely let on to Lillian that she was upset or annoyed. Even though Lillian sent her to her knees in prayer more often these days, she enjoyed the girl's company and knew she was good at heart.

She exhaled slowly then spoke as if speaking to a toddler, "Lillian, remember what I told you yesterday about God?"

"Oh right, right," Lillian nodded. "He lives in the sky. Though I can't see how that's possible because—"

"Lillian!" Hermione snapped then in a softer voice, "Lillian. He does not literally live in the sky, He lives within us."

"Does it matter where He lives?" asked Lillian in a bored voice. "All that matters is you chatting him up enough to get what we want and what we want now are bed sheets, Sister."

Hermione grabbed at her rosary beads, a Hail Mary whispering in her mind as she shooed Lillian away with an order to take the money from the church's vault to go and purchase the required bed sheets. She finished her cup of tea with a long swallow, washed her used cup then made her way to her potions lab to get to work.

An hour later, she was jerked from her deep concentration of slicing gingerroots by the call of a voice from her office. She placed a stasis spell on her bubbling potion and went to see who it was. There she found an unsmiling Percy Weasley and his supposed assistant, standing near her fireplace, brushing away soot from their clothing.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Percy began but was interrupted by Hermione's swift response of "It's Sister." He continued on, ignoring her comment, "My assistant, Claire Weatherby, and I are here for an inspection of your grounds before the admittance of your new charges."

"I thought you weren't due until after lunch?" replied Hermione.

"Indeed but time constraints and more important matters have forced me to perform earlier than expected. I hope we have not inconvenienced you."

"No, that's quite alright," she said. Yes, you have, you stuck up prick! She thought then angrily rebuked her thoughts while simultaneously issuing a silent prayer of forgiveness.

"Good," he nodded. "Shall we begin?"

The inspection took just over an hour to complete due to Percy's pernickety nature to even check places like the food cupboards. How Death Eaters could utilise a food cupboard for evil was beyond Hermione. What were they going to do? Avada Kedavra her with a loaf of bread? Still, she held her tongue even during Percy's supercilious looks and scathing remarks about the wisdom of harbouring criminals in her place of residence.

"They will be here within the next hour," Percy said as he and his assistant were preparing to leave. "As agreed upon, their magic has been modified to only perform harmless spells and a sensor has been injected into their inner left forearm to prevent them from causing you physical harm. This sensor would need bi-monthly inspections to ensure its efficacy. It is also advised that you administer daily doses of Veritaserum. As it is a controlled substance, please sign this agreement for the Ministry's approval of use of Veritaserum. Once signed, we will begin to despatch the daily required amounts."

"I can brew Veritaserum myself," said Hermione even as she signed the papers that Claire Weatherby held against her clipboard.

"Well, do have a good day, Miss Granger," said Percy as he grabbed up a handful of her Floo powder and flung it into the fireplace. "Do remember that if the burden is too great to bear, the Ministry has no qualms of returning those criminals to the fate they deserve." And with a shout of "The Undersecretary's office," he and his assistant were gone.

"Sister, they're here!" Lillian cried out gleefully as she flung Hermione's office door open with a loud bang.

"Lillian, must you be so loud?" Hermione said irritably as she rose from her seat. She closed her office door and made her way to the entrance with Lillian bouncing behind her. Once outside, she was met by the sight of two disgruntled looking Aurors getting off the Day Bus—a slightly improved version of the Knight Bus but owned by Stan Shunpike.

Under the directions of the Aurors, eight figures exited the bus and began making their way to the church's entrance. Hermione stood there, trepidation oozing slowly along her veins and regret blooming like a flower in her heart. What had she done? What was she going to do? How was she going to handle these people, these villains that were the source of her nightmares?

She did what she was very good at: ignoring the doubts in her heart and affixed a smile on her face for the approaching Aurors. Lord give me strength…

"Hello, Terry," she greeted as he was at the forefront of the group.

"Hullo, Sister," said Terry Boot, sounding relieved. "We've brought 'em."

She turned and surveyed them, unnerved at how they all stood eerily silent, their eyes glittering malevolently. She thanked God for the Ministry's idea to place physical harm sensors in their bodies for she didn't doubt what they all wanted to do to her. Slowly, she identified each one of them: Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Antonin Dolohov, Rodolphus Lestrange, Yaxley, Rabastan Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange…Hermione involuntarily stepped backwards.

Bellatrix gave a wild cackle, "Mudblood bitch! Are you scared?" She cackled again and Hermione had to force herself not to turn and run away. Bellatrix Lestrange was the star of Hermione's nightmares, cackling madly just as she did now whilst torturing her with spell after unforgivable spell. And there in Hermione's nightmare, Bellatrix's co-star, Lucius Malfoy would be. Standing there and smiling…smiling while she died…

"Sister, are you alright?" Lillian's worried voice entered her mind, returning her to the present, to reality. She opened her eyes, having not realised she'd closed them, and her gaze collided with the intense, unblinking one of her eighth charge, Lucius Malfoy.

AN: And that's the end of Chapter Two. Did you enjoy it? You didn't? Tell me what you think!

And to all that reviewed, thank you very much for taking the time out to do so. They were appreciated as always. :)