AN: Oh my god. I've become one of those authors. You know, the ones that go a month without updating. I'm so sorry, my dear readers. I've been going through a terrible time lately for no apparent reason, and it's been extremely hard for me to write. I'm so sorry. To those of you who mentioned in your reviews how stupid the plan of the Ministry's is, I'm quite glad you think that. Anger was just the reaction I was going for there, and I wanted it to look completely unreasonable. Please remember, though, that it this point there is absolutely no romance between Bellatrix and Hermione in any way, shape or form. That comes later. Thanks for all of your reviews, I appreciate any feedback. Lyrics are from The Last Crusade by Epica.

-Ophelia

You can't get away with your crimes

And you never will

For you'll have to pay the price

And the time is near

No more innocence left to kill

"Mr. Potter, what on earth are you doing?" Professor McGonagall had finally stopped fretting and decided to act, pulling me to my feet. It was most unusual for her to be stunned into passivity like that, but then again it was equally unusual for Harry to get violent, and for me to cry in public. The only person acting like themselves was you, gleefully watching the proceedings from your bed, and that was by no means a good thing.

"Well now, baby Potter; I can't have you treating my future wife like that. How terribly rude." You let out one of your trademark cackles and I felt my stomach sink at the very sound. Merlin, what had I been thinking, agreeing to spend the rest of my life with you? I turn wearily to look at you, as did Harry and McGonagall. Your thin lips were set in an absurd pout, but your eyes flashed with cruel excitement. I haven't seen you so animated in days; you were straining to leave the bed, which I could see Madam Pomfrey had magically bound you to. No doubt the Order still considered you a flight risk, seeing how you had taken off in a near-death condition only days previously. I sighed. The wedding would sort that out soon enough, but then I might be the one trying to escape. What length would you go to keep me from calling everything off?

It was time to find out. The more I considered my upcoming marriage, the worse it sounded, and the more desperate I became. It was a stupid plan, foolish and hasty, and with every person I told about it I felt less and less sure of my decision. Draco had been on his very best behavior and assured me that if we were married, he would continue to be. You had done nothing of the sort. Why should I listen to you? Why would I tie myself to someone who continues to abuse and insult me, even after promising not to? Harry and McGonagall were glaring daggers at you, while Madam Pomfrey quietly administered a sleeping potion to Fleur, who was still struggling to get up and fight. After a long moment, nobody said or did anything else, and I spoke up.

"You know, I'm not really too sure on this whole wedding thing, Bellatrix. You promised to be nicer to me, remember? You even promised to use my given name. Draco does that, and you would have me choose you over him?" Your eyes widened, then your face set in a snarl. You didn't need to say anything for me to know what you were thinking. Here I was again, some stupid little girl trying to give you orders as if I ran the place, as if I was superior to you, the last scion of House Black. You opened your mouth, no doubt to say just that, but I raised my eyebrows and silently mouthed 'Azkaban'. Your mouth snapped shut as the blood drained from your face. There it was again, the only hand I had to play, but one that we both knew would win every time.

"Will someone explain what's going on?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. Oh, Harry. He does get terribly upset when he is kept out of the loop, no matter for what reason. He had shown that clearly enough in the summer before our fifth year, and I knew that he would be relentless in harassing me for information if I didn't share it with him now. I sighed and sat down on the foot of your bed, which was far more comfortable than the straight-backed wooden chairs to its side. Your foot twitched, as if you longed to kick me until I got up, but with my recent reminder you didn't dare harm me. I briefly considered stretching out besides you, just to watch you squirm and try to contain your rage, but your self control was weak at best and I knew that would very quickly shatter it.

I looked up at Harry, who was breathing heavily in an attempt to calm himself. At the other end of the bed, you were doing the same, but I ignored you and focused on my unofficial brother. His vivid eyes were desperate as he tried to comprehend what was going on in front of him, and to find a solution to my problem that would not result in my being wed to the abhorrent dark witch. "I don't want to marry Draco," I began simply. "Bellatrix doesn't want to go to prison. This is the only way we could take care of both of those without the Ministry getting in the way. After all, I think this goes above and beyond the call of duty, for me to marry her," I added snidely, casting a sideways glance at you. You balled the sheets in your fist and pressed your lips together tightly, but forced yourself not to shoot back a derisive reply. I felt a wave of smug satisfaction. It doesn't feel so good to be insulted all the time, does it?

Harry looked thoughtful, but McGonagall had removed her glasses and was pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "The two of you are oversimplifying the matter, I'm afraid. I must say I expected better of you, such bright students. The Ministry of Magic will by no means be pleased with this. As you have clearly forgotten, Miss Black has been convicted of her many crimes, and will pay for them with her death. A wedding will not save her."

You let out a loud gasp and I turn to look at you, surprised to see your mouth hanging open in shock, trying to take in what you had just heard. You normally have far better control of your expression than this, but a death sentence would shake just about anybody. "And why has nobody seen fit to tell me that," you spat, after a moment of silence.

"I forgot about it," I mumbled, hanging my head in shame. Come on, Hermione, what's wrong with you? I never forget anything.

"You forgot?" you shrieked. You sat bolt upright in the bed, wincing as the motion tugged at your partly healed wounds, but pointed a bony, clawed finger at me. It was a gesture of condemnation, as though I had purposely left out such vital information. I had done no such thing, but quailed before you all the same. "How could you forget? If you were going to die, I would surely remember that."

Yes, you surely would. Why not? I was the enemy, after all, and you loved nothing more than to bask in the sorrow of those you hated. I was certainly at the top of that list for you, a Mudblood who refused to learn her place no matter how many times you struck her down. But… I had not remembered that you were going to die, I had not remembered your demise. What did that mean? Did that mean that I no longer considered you an enemy anymore, if I felt nothing more than a cold pit of horror at what should have been good news? It was as if I had been the one facing an execution, such was my despair. It was because this signaled the end of my plan, yes, that must be it. I felt no compassion for you, not here, not now. But you did before, came a tiny voice in the back of my mind. You went out to find her when she ran off, you tried to save her. But that was the love potion, I was tricked… You cared when they had her bound in chains and beaten. They hurt her and you made it stop, you protected her. I shivered, the voice had me there. But surely I would have helped anyone in that situation, right? It was the decent, human thing to do, to help her. It was nothing personal, it couldn't be…

McGonagall's voice jerked me from my reverie, and I turned gratefully to her. "Miss Granger, if you really want to do this then you must decide on a better plan of action." Her mouth was pulled down in a frown, an expression that she rarely had when speaking to me. "I'm sure you two had stronger, more detailed reasons for deciding upon such a scheme," Not really… "but few people will be willing to listen to them, least of all the Ministry."

"Won't Shacklebolt listen?" you asked. "I thought he liked her." You jerked your chin at me, still too angry to use my name but careful not to return to petty insults that would lose my support. Professor McGonagall sighed.

"He may, but it is a faint hope. But you must understand that the entire public has been screaming for your death for, well, years." You smiled smugly at that and she shot you a glare. "It is no laughing matter, Miss Black. An attitude like that will only inflame them against you further, if that's even possible. Now, I'm unclear on what exactly happened between you two in the Forbidden Forest." She paused and gave me a look that made it perfectly clear that I was to explain all of that later. I groaned and you laughed, but McGonagall continued as if she had heard neither of us. "However, that means we can spin it any way we want. Nobody but the pair of you knows why Miss Granger went out there to help, and Kingsley has been very eager to hear the reason. This may be just the thing that can convince him to overturn the sentence."

I had no idea what she was getting at, and from Harry's puzzled expression he didn't either, but you leaned forward with a frown to match hers. "I think I see what this is about, McGonagall. You want it to appear that the Mu – ah, Hermione – has some kind of control over me. You want to tell the Ministry that if we get married, she will keep a close eye on me, to the point where it's just another prison." You slumped back onto the pile of pillows behind you, your frown deepening into a scowl. "I don't like it," you declared vehemently.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but Harry looked unsure. "Do you think they'll care? If they wanted her in jail, they would put her there and that would be the end of it. But they don't. They want her dead, and they won't take anything less than that."

"No, Harry," I said quietly. "That's not what they want, it's what you want. They just need her out of the way and away from the public, and a wedding is cleaner than an execution. Besides, it follows their ridiculous new law to the letter. Who better to make an example of than Voldemort's best warrior?"

"Don't you dare say his name," you snarled, but I ignored that, fixing my gaze on Harry. He looked positively livid; his hatred for you ran deep and strong. Worse still, it was entirely justified, and almost everybody in the Wizarding felt the same way. It was hard to see him so angry, sitting here so eager for you to be killed, and I knew that no matter what I said or did he would be right there opposing me.

Harry took a step forward. "She deserves to die, Hermione. Look at what she's done, tell me she doesn't deserve it. You know she does. Why do you want to save her? Why does she matter? If it was you about to die, she would laugh her ass off and then walk away without a look back, you know she would. Why do you care so much?" He had placed his hands on my shoulders and bent down to my level. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, much to my surprise and dismay. I had never waned to hurt Harry with this; I had never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to help her. But why?

"Because, whether she acts like it or not, she's still human. And I can't just stand by and watch a human die when I can save them," I told him softly. It wasn't the truth, not all of it at least, but it was the closest to the truth that I could get.

"She wouldn't do that for you! She doesn't deserve it, Hermione!" he shouted, straightening again.

"Well, good thing I'm not asking you, then, Potter," you spat furiously. Your eyes flashed with your usual ferocity as you glared at him. "Do you normally speak about people as if they aren't right in front of you? I must say, it ill becomes you, from what I had heard about you. What happened to the great and kind Harry Potter, hmm?"

"What kindness do I owe you, Lestrange?" he demanded, advancing on you until your faces were a foot apart. "You killed Sirius!"

"I only Stunned Sirius, you blind fool! That bloody veil killed him!" you retorted, regarding him haughtily.

"It's still your fault!" He was yelling now.

"Why does it fucking matter? It is done! That's what happens in a battle! You kill or you get killed!" Your voice had risen to a shout as well.

"Enough! I will not have you bickering like children! Contain yourselves!" McGonagall strode forward and pulled a fuming Harry away by the arm. "Let us get back to the matter at hand. Miss Black, I know what you were planning. You wanted to marry Miss Granger to protect yourself, then run off and do whatever you want without her." You nodded sullenly, still glowering at Harry. "That cannot happen. The Ministry may allow the marriage, and they might even be convinced not to kill you, but only if you and Miss Granger will remain together afterwards. We will need to convince them, as you said, that she can keep control over you, and keep you from hurting anybody."

You crossed your arms angrily and said nothing, but I turned to her. "How exactly are we supposed to do that, Professor? I… I don't have that kind of power, and they know it." A slight smirk crossed your face, further confirming what I had said.

To my great surprise, McGonagall smiled at that. "No, we cannot expect them to believe that you can force her to stay. However, after such a terrible war, everyone is eager to see some happiness again. We can convince them that you two want to be together, that you want to be married, the same as any other couple would."

You had heard enough and were shaking your head violently, your wild hair whipping all around. "No. No no no no and no. I won't do it. I can't do it. You think I can pretend to be in love with such fil – ah, someone – like her?" I rolled my eyes at how hard you had to try to keep from insulting me all the time. You looked almost physically pained by it, constantly being on the alert for degradation and correcting yourself when you so desperately wanted to say it. To be honest, I was rather impressed that you were paying so much attention, especially after watching your conversation with your sister earlier. You hardly spaced out at all, which came as quite a relief.

"I agree, Professor. I could never pull that off, really, isn't there-"

"Another way? No, there isn't," she said curtly. "If you loved each other, then you would want to stay together, and you would listen to each other. You cannot be joined in name only, as I'm aware that many Pureblood couples do, and simply live apart. The Ministry will never accept that. This is your only option, Miss Black, if you intend to live. Even if you do choose it, you will both need to put on a very convincing performance indeed. I have nothing else to say. Good day to you all, and I hope you can come to a decision." With that, she swept from the room, leaving us gaping speechlessly at her.

"Wait, Professor!" Harry hurried after her, clearly not wanting to be left alone with us for a moment longer. The heavy door swung shut behind him, and the room was dead silent aside from the sounds of Fleur's heavy breathing from where she lay asleep in her bed. After a few tense minutes you turn to me.

"What do you propose we do now, then?" you asked, breathing heavily and trying hard to keep your temper in check. With Professor McGonagall gone, any yelling would draw out Madam Pomfrey from her room in a heartbeat. I shook my head desperately.

"I don't like it anymore than you do, but I think McGonagall's right." You groaned and leaned back, tapping me sharply in the side with your foot to get me off your bed at last. I stood up, and you stretched out under the blanket.

"I need to think about this. Leave me."

"But…" You fixed me with a stern glare, leaving no room for argument. By the time I left the ward, you were asleep and that tiny voice in my head was buzzing for answers I did not have. I sighed. This marriage business was turning out to be much more work than I had anticipated.