AN: Once again, many thanks to the incredible Kriszti for helping me come up with some semblance of a plot and spending a very, very long time overanalyzing the Black sisters with me. And I mean a really long time. Lyrics from On the Rise from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, which I heartily recommend to anyone with 40 minutes to kill.

-Ophelia

Any dolt with half a brain

Can see that humankind has gone insane

To the point where I don't know if I'll upset the status quo

If I throw poison in the water main.

Listen close to everybody's heart

And hear that breaking sound.

Hopes and dreams are shattering apart

And crashing to the ground.

One hour passed, then the next, the minutes blending together without notice. No progress was made or lost, just two sisters screaming and sobbing for what felt like eternity. Hermione had heard enough in the first five minutes to last the next hundred or so; they talked in circles without really deciding a thing nor introducing any new points, as anyone but they could have predicted.

Bella killed Tonks. Andy walked out on the family to get married. Bella killed Sirius. Andy wasn't there for her sisters when they needed to be together. Bella joined the Death Eaters to torture and kill innocent people and loved it. Andy decided that she would be happier with Ted Tonks than any pureblood man. Bella did everything wrong. Andy did everything right. Why does this call for discussion?

The exasperated Gryffindor knew the answer, of course. Anybody who knows anything about the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange knows it. She didn't care about the lives she took any more than she would the dirt on the bottom of her boots. One curse, a flash of green light, and they're wiped away from this Earth for good, never to bother her again. As quickly as they come into her life they were forced out, and that's all right by her. Well, not by Hermione, and certainly not by her sister either.

"BELLATRIX! YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO ME AT ALL, ARE YOU?" Two witches both cringed as Andromeda shouted again, bearing down on her sibling, red-faced. As it happens, the entire situation was far worse than Hermione could have anticipated when she had agreed to stay and wait for the fight to end. Not only were Bellatrix's arguments nonsensical and pointless, but she seemed to have a nasty habit of spacing out during conversations, simply going blank and turning inward, away from the realities of life and her screaming sister.

She turned to face her, unfazed by her screaming but looking a little confused. "Sorry, Andy? I didn't catch that," the Dark witch told her seriously, looking as if she had just resurfaced from beneath deep water. Her disconnection with the world was alarming to the youngest witch, as if she didn't belong here, in this conversation or even in this world. Her dark eyes flitted restlessly around the room as if seeking an escape, almost desperate. Finding none she looked down again to stare at her knees, which were bent under the blankets in front of her with her arms wrapped around them. At some points during the conversation, when not staring down her sister and furiously defending herself, Bellatrix would curl into the fetal position and hum quietly to herself, as a frightened child might do to calm itself when threatened by an overpowered enemy. Andromeda, focused single-mindedly on her tirade, did not appear to notice just how often her sister retreated in this way, but Hermione observed it carefully, in terror and in marvel. Watching such a notorious murderer act in such a way unsettled her, to say the least, far more than her tears did that day in the forest. Everyone cries at some point, very few people retreat into their head when faced with a situation they don't like and constantly flip between which world they pay attention to.

Andromeda's face turned red with fury, another highly disturbing sight. Whenever she gets angry she looks just like Bellatrix, right down to the flaring of her nostrils and gritting of her teeth, and Hermione couldn't help but cringe away, remembering that night in Malfoy Manor. She still occasionally got nightmares about that day, about how the Death Eater towered over her and screamed at her and tortured her and how, not once but many times, the younger witch thought about giving up. She never told a soul about that, about the dreams and the quitting and the shame, the ever burning shame that coursed through her even now as she recalled that day. Yet here she was, sitting at her torturer's side as her little sister screamed the terrible truth at her.

"You're a complete monster, Bellatrix." Hermione watched carefully as the Death Eater, now fully paying attention, flinched as the word passed through her lips; the word that everyone knew to be true but never dared to speak before her; the word that she had been hiding from for years. Monster. Inhuman, cruel, bestial. Bellatrix tried to hide how much the word stung with a carefully blank expression, but Hermione could see the pain in her eyes at being described thusly by her own family. "If you still think Muggles are such scum, perhaps you ought to take a closer look at yourself. Until you do, I have nothing more to say to you." With that, she swept out of the room and out of her life, for the second time. For a long moment after the door banged shut the infirmary was as silent as a crypt, until Bellatrix curled up once more and started humming again, evidently giving up on hiding her reaction.

For someone who made a name for themselves as a master of torture, Bellatrix handled pain extremely poorly. Since the end of the war, Hermione had seen her screaming and yelling after being beaten by the Order, sobbing and suicidal after talking about her unrequited love for her dead master, hiding behind a cold and uncaring expression after confronting her sister, and now humming to herself like, well, a lunatic. She was always the very definition of power, of intimidation, of evil. Now she looked broken, as if the trauma she had inflicted over the past few decades has caught up to her at last and destroyed her. The Gryffindor had always known that she was insane, but it never really sunk in until this moment. It had just been a word, bland and meaningless, containing all of the emotional attachment of saying that the Death Eater was tall with black hair. This moment, however, redefined the term, made it real and terrifying.

Hermione knew that she shouldn't touch the shaking witch, that she would probably take it badly and that she deserved no consolation anyways. However, her hand betrayed her common sense and reached out to take Bellatrix's, grasping her thin and bony fingers between hers. The older woman abruptly fell silent, raising her head to look at the girl. Her mask was back on and her expression was inscrutable, aside from her eyes. Hermione often tried to avoid looking into her eyes, having feared the chaos and anger that swirled within since she glimpsed it at the Malfoy's. She was nothing less than terrorizing then, but now she seemed pathetic, someone to be comforted rather than feared. Looking at her now, Hermione could see through the mask, could see just how badly she was hurt by Andromeda's comment, how deeply it had affected her. Bellatrix had always carried a strong and vocal conviction that what she was doing was right, and somewhere in the back of her twisted mind, she felt that it would be a matter of time until her sisters agreed.

At long last, the truth had sunk in and she was forced to see herself as she really was, not the glorified and justified warrior she always wanted to be. Her hand clutched at the Gryffindor's as if for support as their eyes locked together. The two witches sat motionless for a long moment, staring at each other, until Hermione turned her head slightly, finding it hard to watch such despair and be unable to help. Bellatrix finally spoke. "Aren't you curious about why I asked you to come here?" She sounded desperate to change the subject onto Hermione, and to assert some sense of authority by implying that she came at the Dark witch's call. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes in response, still feeling a bizarre sense of sorrow.

"Yeah, I guess so." Her sharp nails were digging into her skin now, but Hermione found that she couldn't move her hand even if she wanted to.

"Well, rumor has it that you're set to marry my dear nephew." she smirked knowingly, or at least attempted to. It looked more like a pained grimace, which Hermione felt matched the topic much better. "Does the Ministry really expect this to eliminate all blood-status rivalry?" She actually did roll her eyes at that one; the use of the word rivalry implies that Muggle-borns wanted to attack the purebloods in turn, rather than defend themselves from their outrageous and aggressive accusations.

"How did you hear about that?" she demanded, annoyed. She was under the impression that the Ministry's plans were to be top-secret. Bellatrix didn't reply, although her smirk was growing more pronounced. "It's a stupid idea, of course, there's no way it could ever work. Marry off the Death Eaters to Muggle-borns in an attempt to humble them, or humiliate them? The only thing that will do is get them angry, angry enough to cause another uprising, and this time more people will follow. Who would you rather fight for, a government that thinks it can arrange marriages, or the oppressed few being forced into them?" Now Hermione's nails were the ones piercing the pale hand beneath them, and Bellatrix quickly shook her off.

"Don't be so dramatic, girl. With the Dark Lord gone," her voice shook a little as the words were forced out, "the army is dissolved. There are now many ex-Death Eaters, but the organization itself is no more. In any case, I doubt there will be any kind of resistance. Anyone being married off is being spared death or worse, and they know it. They will not create trouble, not after escaping justice so narrowly."

"So you think they won't kill off their new wives?" There were only two known female Death Eaters, and the Carrows had been sent to Azkaban. Only men remained, which meant that only unlucky Muggle-born girls would be needed for this scheme.

Bellatrix hesitated before answering. "Draco would never harm you, nor anybody else. He's too damn weak, just like that foolish father of his," she added under your breath. Hermione ignored the last bit.

"You're avoiding the question. I know Draco won't be much of a problem, but if things go well with us the Ministry will see it as a go-ahead signal. If things go poorly, they will blame and punish him. I need to stop this now. We only have a month until the weddings."

"All right, the others would kill the filthy girls, no question. They might do it quietly, they might not, but expect them to be dead within months after the accursed weddings. The Ministry would be quite foolish if they don't see this coming."

This was precisely what Hermione thought would happen, but it was still disparaging to hear it coming from someone else. "So what do you suggest we do?" Her shoulders slumped with defeat, but the Death Eater seemed to fill with vigor at the prospect of a new battle to face. She sat up straighter.

"Well, that depends on what I get out of it. After all, we still don't know what the Ministry plans to do with me…" Her tone suddenly grew much more commanding, just like the Bellatrix that Hermione knew before the end of the war broke you her. "I don't want to be thrown into Azkaban again. I don't want to be killed by the likes of them." She spat the word out with a disgusted snarl on her face, but the Gryffindor noted that she did not say she didn't want to die at all. "And I certainly don't want to be forced into another marriage, no more than anyone would even want to marry me now, I'm sure. Keep them from doing any of these things to me and I'll do everything I can to help you."

Hermione stared at the expectant witch blankly. This was quite a hefty list, and while she held a certain amount of power it was unlikely to be enough to meet all of those demands. "How do you expect me to do all of that?"

"How do you expect me to help you?" she shot back. Her arms were crossed in defiance; her breakdown just minutes ago might never have happened. "I'm stuck in this bloody bed until Pomfrey decides I'm well enough to leave, and then I'll probably be chained up again. If you don't help me I can't do anything for you at all." She was right and they both knew it, but Hermione's words still stuck in her mouth as she struggled to speak them.

"Fine. I'll help you. I'll do my best to keep you safe if you do your best to stop this law."

Bellatrix shook your head, her hair whipping around chaotically. "No, no, no. this law is well beyond my control, all I can do is help you. Besides, why should I care about any other girls unless they promise to defend me too? The Dark Lord protected me and helped me grow strong, so I fought for him. If you agree to my terms then I could be your best ally."

The Gryffindor groaned, but knew this would be the best deal she could get. Depending on what her idea was, she might be able to stop the Ministry without her direct help. She began to nod in agreement, then an idea struck her. "One condition," she began, ignoring the eye-roll sent her way. "If I save you from being imprisoned or killed, you have to swear never to break the law again."

Much to her surprise, Bellatrix laughed at the proposal, then said, "Done. I agree." Her smile broadened into a grin as she watched Hermione's eyes widen. "If you manage to sway the Ministry, I don't doubt that they would have me swear to that as well, so I might as well get it out of the way. You can be sure to mention it when you talk to them."

A moment passed in quiet shock, then Hermione cleared her throat. "So, what's this idea of yours?"

Still grinning, Bellatrix leaned forward so that her face was an inch from Hermione's. "Call it off with Draco and marry me instead."