AN: Sorry for the wait, I needed to figure out where to go from here that won't make me hit a dead end plot. Much love to my dear reviewers, especially those who read Haunted as well. Lyrics are from Sophia by The Crüxshadows.

-Ophelia

And through these doubts

And through your confusion

Know that you are chosen to this fight

Look to find a soul filled with compassion

Look to see a living source of light

"Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?"

"Of course she's all right, Ron, don't be a prat. You think Madam Pomfrey can't take care of her?"

"Well, sometimes she can't…"

"Don't be so negative, Harry. She'll be fine."

"I'll believe that when I see her wake up, thanks."

"Ron, Ginny, be quiet. You'll wake her with all this fighting."

"Sorry, mum."

"But mum…"

"Quiet!"

Hermione's head felt fuzzy and thoughts came slowly, as if they had to swim through syrup to reach each other and form a coherent message. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy and her tongue felt like cotton in her dry mouth as she struggled to remember what had happened. After a few dizzy moments, she gave up and tried to ask Harry and the Weasleys what had happened. A hazy mental image pulled itself together of them huddled around the hospital bed, holding their breaths as they waited to make sure that she was unhurt. Their kindness was something that had certainly been missed during the war, and it put a smile on her lips. Speech and movement were still beyond her, tired as she was, so she sat mutely and listened as Ron spoke excitedly.

"I think she's waking up! Hermione? Hermione, it's me, it's Ron. Are you ok?"

"For heaven's sake, Ron. It was a sleeping draught, not some kind of curse. Of course she's fine. Just rather tired, aren't you, dear?" She felt a soft hand that could only belong to Mrs. Weasley smooth back her hair and pat her hand soothingly. The Gryffindor began to relax, comforted by a gentle touch and by a sudden rush of relief. A sleeping potion, not poison. She was just knocked out, nothing serious. A minute passed, then two, and soon Ron had begun talking again as if there had been no pause in the conversation.

"I know, mum. It's not the potion I'm worried about. You know who was supposed to be in that room at the same time; she could have been alone with her for hours before we found her. Who knows what that monster did to her before she scarpered?" Wait, Bellatrix left? How long had she been out? What happened? "She had hurt her before, you know."

Mrs. Weasley's voice was uncharacteristically exasperated when she responded. Ron had clearly been arguing for a long time, stuck on his one-track mind. "Yes, Ron, I do know. Of course I care about Hermione just as much as you do, but you need to remember the condition that Lestrange was in when she left. She couldn't have done much to Hermione even if she tried, and Madam Pomfrey says she was completely unharmed."

"But aren't there spells that can go undetected? I think we should have someone else look at her, make absolutely sure that she's okay." Harry's voice sounded slightly strained. As usual, he blamed himself for anything bad that happened to any of his friends, even when they were well beyond his control.

"Now, dear, there's no need to think like that. Madam Pomfrey is an extremely capable nurse, as I'm sure you have all noticed."

Ginny spoke up. "That's true, mum, but didn't that maniac take Hermione's wand? Actually, I guess she just took her own wand back. She might've healed herself before she left. I wouldn't put anything past her. Maybe we do need a second opinion…"

Hermione found herself feeling hopeful despite herself, imagining those terrible injuries swept away. Mrs. Weasley soon dashed her fragile optimism, however. "I doubt it. She's very proficient in Dark Magic, as of course everyone knows, which means that she is not skilled in more practical magic. You know. Cleaning, healing, other household stuff. Remember, Ginny dear, I told you this when I was teaching you how to mend your leg after you fell from your broom." Hermione didn't need to see Ginny's face to know she was blushing; her brothers had mercilessly teased her about her broken leg long after her mother had healed it. More important than the mockery was the lesson Mrs. Weasley had given her and Hermione afterwards, though, when they asked her how she had healed it.

As Mrs. Weasley had explained, there was a certain tradeoff when learning Dark Magic. The more harmful your magic usually is, the harder it will be to cast helpful spells. The stronger your offense, the weaker your defense. Therefore, she had said, a witch or wizard can only specialize in one side or another, or be merely capable but not excellent at both. This makes the more powerful Death Eaters bad at healing or protective magic while very few people in the Order can produce any of the Unforgivable curses, for example. As a renowned master of torture there was no question that Bellatrix was hardly more proficient a healer than a box of rocks.

Oh, Bellatrix, Hermione mused. First you got me to eat your spiked food (ok, you didn't know there was anything wrong with it either), then you took my wand (fine, your wand), then you ran off (away from the people who tortured and imprisoned you, anyone would run from that). How do you expect to get away without getting caught? Wounded as she undoubtedly was, Hermione didn't expect her to even make it out of the crumbling castle, let alone flee the grounds.

Ron's worrying was somehow irritating rather than endearing. Hermione figured that she should be pleased that with his display of friendship, but he should have known by now that she could take care of herself. Even worse, it was Bellatrix herself who was the source of his concern. The kneazle was out of the bag, now. He and Harry had wanted to know all day who the mystery Death Eater was, and now that they knew, she would probably never have a moment alone with her again. It only struck her now that losing the older witch was in fact a bad thing. It just had to play out this way, didn't it, to worry over someone when she should have been rejoicing her imminent death. The very thought of such an end made Hermione sick. Of course, it is human nature not to miss things until they were gone, just ask King Lear.

For a brief time, Bellatrix had been, among many things, a distraction, a blessed respite from the demands of the world that so urgently needed rebuilding. She had never asked about the war nor referred to it. It was as though, as far as she was concerned, it might not have ever happened. She did made a number of demands of Hermione but they were simple things, easy enough to oblige. She was a woman scared for her life and trying desperately not to show it, a sentiment that the Gryffindor had known all year. She didn't need to bother keeping secrets from her, aside from the poison… The poison! She never ate the antidote in the food!

With a sudden burst of energy at the thought, Hermione sat bolt upright, eyes flicking open, all weariness shed like an old skin.

"Where's Bellatrix? She's unwell, she's poisoned and never got the antidote, she'll die away from here, where is she?" she was babbling and didn't care enough to stop, panic rising swiftly within her. She had made the decision last night to save the condemned Death Eater and just like that, the opportunity was gone. Mrs. Weasley looked at her in pity while Harry, Ron and Ginny stared blankly.

"Hermione, dear, perhaps you ought to lie back down now." Her hands gently but firmly pushed her back against the mound of pillows. "Are you feeling all right, then?"

"She's hurt, she's hurt, she's hurt, she needs to get better or she'll die…," she repeated the words like a mantra, flailing against Mrs. Weasley's restraining arms. Hermione's head still felt heavy and slow but her inexplicable concern for Bellatrix rose like a tidal wave, unstoppable. Harry and Ginny looked alarmed while Ron just scowled.

"Why do you care, Hermione?" Ron asked harshly. "She deserves to die. I hope she does." His words fell like bullets, blunt and uncaring. Hermione reached an arm out to hit him, suddenly consumed by rage at his callousness, but Mrs. Weasley pulled her back, not seeming to notice that she was aiming for her son.

"What has she done to you, Hermione? You're not usually like this," Mrs. Weasley asked, but Hermione ignored her. She was holding her back from saving Bellatrix. She didn't deserve her attention, not in this critical time.

Ginny tried then. "Of course she'll die, Hermione. That was the whole point of poisoning her, to keep her here. Madam Pomfrey said that the poison cannot be in her system for more than twelve hours, so we have to heal her at night. They gave her a sleeping potion instead to keep her from running off when she's healed. The Order doesn't have enough people to babysit her all night. But now she's gone and ruined the plan before we even spent one night with it."

Good. They can never hurt her again. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that if she was found, the Order would punish her again, maybe even kill her this time. Desperate at the horrible thought, she pushed Mrs. Weasley away and yanked the restricting covers from her body. "I need to find her," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I need to bring her back. I need to talk to her, find out what she has to say. Kingsley's orders." Those magic words did the trick. Stunned, the three Weasleys and one Potter watched with wide eyes as Hermione's staggered out of the room.

Hermione needed to find her new charge, and quickly. The two didn't get much time to talk, though, and she had no idea where the injured and scared convict would head. Home, she thought, but where is her home? Does she still have a home? Hermione didn't know her well enough to figure out where she went in time, but there was someone in Hogwarts who did.

To find Bellatrix Black, she needed to find Andromeda Tonks.