A/N: I'm so busy. So busy! I apologize both for the delay of this chapter and the largely unedited form parts of it has, but at some point you have to just take what you've had time to prepare and put it out there. I hope you enjoy, and I do so appreciate reviews so if you have any thoughts to share, please do :)

Chapter 11

November 10, 2003

Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of the Educational Reform committee Professor Minerva McGonagall was standing tall in Hermione's entrance hall staring at Bellatrix Lestrange, her lips razor thin and her nose scrunched quite beyond normal, her wand arm twitching. Bellatrix herself seemed to be flickering between the expression of a guilty child and a more haughty, arrogant pose.

'Bellatrix Black,' McGonagall thundered, causing Bellatrix to draw herself up to a more defiant height, jutting her chin forward and drawing her shoulders back. 'I've waited too long to tell you this: how dare you! How dare you!'

'I did what I believed to be right.' Bellatrix answered with an air of finality, as if it were an answer long considered and oft given.

'You've murdered good people! Believing isn't good enough!' snapped McGonagall, narrowing her eyes and sighing, 'You're a fool, Bellatrix. I said it to him, and I'll repeat it to you now: Tom Riddle was a single-minded ridiculous idiot. You were taken in by an idiot, Bellatrix. What does that make you?'

McGonagall had brought out her most icy tone, her shoulders drawing back proudly while her body leaned forward like a bird about to attack.

'An idealist, I suppose! Stop acting like my teacher, I'm not a child anymore! I've slit the throat of more powerful witches than you, you know!' Bellatrix howled back, collapsing instantly into a childish fit, stomping her feet and clenching her fists.

'Oh, please. You couldn't have bested me on a bad day. Go back to your room if you can't behave, will you, and let the grown-ups have their meeting.'

With that McGonagall strode past a speechless Hermione into the living room.

'Are you coming, miss Granger?' she boomed, and Hermione cast only a quick glance to Bellatrix before following her former teacher.

Bellatrix joined them almost immediately after, sheepish as could be. When McGonagall proceeded to raise her eyebrows at her, the dark witch did the most unexpected thing of all: she apologized.

'I've got some... problems with impulse control. I... I'm sorry, professor.'

Professor McGonagall said nothing, but settled into her chair and got out a scroll of parchment.

'Very well, then.' she declared to the parchment before looking up at Hermione. 'Now, miss Granger, I've checked the relevant records, and it seems there is a total of 253 Muggleborns of Hogwarts age for me to worry about and about 631 for you to to sort out. Of course, I'll gladly assist the teachers who will be speaking with them, but the transportation is quite another matter. What are your thoughts on the matter?'

'Oh yes, well I was thinking the best setup might be to have a school bus that travels via a portkey system. Ron, uh, I mean mr. Weasley, is working on it at the moment so it isn't quite complete yet, but I think it would minimise both the worry Muggle parents would feel and minimise risks of any children getting lost.'

'Yes, yes. I quite agree. I have with me some documentation of the wards protecting the Hogwarts Express and the wards that allow it to pass through the Hogsmeade protective enchantments actually, that I believe would be of assistance to mr. Weasley and yourself in this matter. What about the wizarding born?'

At this expression Bellatrix squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, causing McGonagall to snap her attention to the prisoner.

'Is there a problem?' she asked sternly.

'No.' Bellatrix responded with incredible petulance.

McGonagall merely stared for a few seconds before responding.

'Very well, then.'

The professor turned once again to Hermione. 'There are 506 wizarding born children whose parents need to be contacted. I think having them travel via Floo with their parents should be an option, as well as a designated Portkey rather than a bus service if the parents wish. That would minimise worry on that side of things, I think.'

'I quite agree. Do you have the transportation plans?'

...

When McGonagall had left, Hermione (rather reluctantly) decided to do her therapeutic duty and ask Bellatrix about the odd dynamic she had with Hermiones' former teacher.

'So... you and McGonagall? What's that about?'

'She's a nuisance and a pest and she was harassing me! Why didn't you step in, Granger? I thought you were responsible for my safety!'

'I have taken no vow to protect you from righteous anger and she wasn't going to hex you. Anyway, it just seemed so.. personal.'

'Personal? It's not personal!' the older woman burst before narrowing her eyes. 'Fine, it's personal. It's just rather difficult having her be so angry with me. I always admired her.' she deadpanned. 'I think I'm off to bed.'

Then she practically fled the scene. When Hermione glanced over to see it was merely 4 o'clock, she decided the subject was clearly one to be taken up later, at a less sensitive stage. She didn't really feel up to listening to Bellatrix wax poetic about her feelings just yet. She had two more meetings to be done with! Progress reports had to be made on all projects, after all.

November 11, 2003

After a quiet breakfast the two witches had settled in the sitting room. Hermione was in one chair, and Bellatrix another, not quite facing each other on opposite corners of the side of a walnut coffee table. Hermione had laughingly referred to the chairs they were sitting in as 'wizard chair, standard issue' when she had seen them for sale on an outing with Harry, and certainly the wing-backed chairs in deep green leather were about as ordinary as one could get in the wizarding world. It was all very appropriate seeing as her living room had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with volumes of every size and colour imaginable. It was for the most part only muggle literature (of every sort and on every subject, of course) she kept in this house but the complete effect was still quite magical which was something Hermione rather liked about it.

'I met with... the Department Head, uh...after you went to bed yesterday.' Hermione started. She stared at the pale witch in front of her, trying to gauge her mood. 'Your trial... well, your deposition, really. Your testimony.' she stumbled trying to find the proper way to phrase the issue.

'We're moving forward with your... You've not yet been successfully depositioned. I need to start collecting memories from you so we can gather our information.'

Bellatrix gave her a hard stare.

'Well, that is simply too bad. I mean, these past few years have been very comfortable, truly, and I understand that this will eventually be necessary, but I don't need a wand for Occlumency and you can't make me show you my memories! I've decided I'm retired, this is my retirement, I wish to be left alone.'

'It's part of your Healing, as well, though. We'll go over the memories together.' Hermione tried to keep her voice gentle, as she had been instructed, but the insolence of the prisoner already had an edge creeping into her voice.

'Let's be honest here, Granger, considering our... history. They'll never let me stay in such comfortable conditions once they've so much as glanced at my recollections. So, they can't see them! I won't allow it!'

'They won't see most of it.' Hermione slowly responded, blinking.

'I'm an Unspeakable, the records of my work are by their very nature secret and I report the results to the Department of Mysteries. The Department will lend whatever they feel is appropriate to the Wizengamot for their War Crimes Hearing, yes, but you won't have a full trial. You don't need one seeing as you're already on a lifetime sentence. They just need your testimony. In our Department, on the other hand, we have quite a keen interest in what you remember about your master. And again, you're not finished with your Healing and your mind will start to.. slip again if it isn't addressed.'

'If it's Healing I need, then that is what I want. I demand a Healer! You're not fit to Heal so much as my cat!'

Feeling annoyed that the previously rather shy woman had decided to give up the pretence of being a reasonable human being, Hermione raised her eyebrows at her.

'Thank you for that ringing vote of confidence. I am certified to Heal everything that ails you, trust me. Healers do not, as a rule, hand over their patients memories so you'd only have to go through the process twice if you had a Healer. Besides, you're not royalty, Lestrange, you're a prisoner. You don't have a choice. Is this why you apologized yesterday?'

'I knew I should've come up with something more believable. Fine. I know my place, yes! I'm not stupid, Granger, I know how much worse it could be. I remember it well. But you will never know because you can't just take my memories!' Bellatrix hissed, shivering slightly but still leaning forward, fervently tapping the side her head with her right ring finger and baring her teeth.

'I can and if you force me to I will. Of course, it would leave you permanently incapacitated so you wouldn't be able to help interpret them... but I'm not above doing that anyway. I've my priorities and your memories are top.'

Hermione chooses her words slowly, carefully, making sure her voice is low and even. She looks directly at Bellatrix while she says it, watching as Bellatrix's expression falters.

'You wouldn't.' the dark woman challenges.

'I would. It's not as if you haven't done it to others, so I'm not sure I'd even feel a twinge of guilt over it.'

Bellatrix's face crumpled.

'Your boss wouldn't allow it.' she whispered.

'You've guessed who my boss is, haven't you? I wouldn't wager that she wouldn't.'

A final slump of shoulders and Hermione has won.

Hermione got out of her chair and headed for a drawer in a corner cabinet, carrying back a Pensieve and a series of vials, setting them on the table and searching out her notebook where she'd already sketched out how this all was supposed to go.

'I thought you had to finish your other projects first.' Bellatrix said evenly, eyeing the bottles as if they would bite her at any moment.

'We're waiting for the wards to go up. Might as well keep busy. There's been a slight change in schedule as I've observed no reason why you wouldn't be able to have some memories extracted, and the Department wishes to speed things up a bit.' Hermione replies.

'Don't I need some Healing before you can just plunge into my memory?! I'm unbalanced, you know!'

The words hung in the air until Hermione burst out laughing, a deep belly laugh that had her bent over struggling for air.

'Unbalanced! Unbalanced!' she gasped, drying her eyes, and taking a deep breath. 'Wow, unbalanced... Oh, I think it'll be fine. Wow, I mean...we'll start slow, alright?'

'I'm not sure I can handle it right now. I'm too hungry. I'll collapse.' If Bellatrix could do wandless magic, Hermione likely would be dead judging by the look the dark witch was throwing her way.

'We just ate!' Hermione responded, tears still bursting in her eyes, her gums aching with the effort of suppressing a grin.

'I'm still hungry!' was the petulant response.

'Look, I will get you some food if you need but you are not getting away. The Department really wants to move things along so they can use the information for the things they want them for and I'd rather move things along too, to be honest.'

'I demand food first!'

Hermione marched into the kitchen and heated her subject a microwavable fish pie which Bellatrix declared to be 'absolutely revolting' upon sight before settling in to eat it.

'Muggle food has so far done nothing to convince me of their supposed noble nature, Granger.' she grumbled when Hermione asked if she'd liked it. Hermione simply instructed her subject to follow her into her study where everything had already been set up for this (a magic free environment being rather ideal for the treatment had led Hermione to conclude long ago that this was to be the location of the extraction and prepared accordingly in her interior design choices), Bellatrix marching ahead without offering to help Hermione carry the vials and the Pensieve.

Hermione placed Bellatrix on a reclining chair, seating herself behind her left shoulder on a kitchen chair with a small table at her side with vials and Pensieve neatly lined up.

'I know this is a bit different from how your regular Healing has gone, but just go with it, alright?' she tries to reassure herself and Bellatrix, but the dark woman gives no response.

'Alright. So, relax as much as you can. Let your mind wander a bit, try to get in touch with some pleasant feelings, focus on something not too far into the past first. It's just something to get us started so I can start mapping out some things, you know... it doesn't have to be something important.'

She holds the tip of her wand to Bellatrix's left temple, her wand arm trembling slightly. She whispers 'Legilimens' without any sound beyond the loud echo it resounds in her mind as she reaches forward into a place she'd never wanted to go: Bellatrix Lestranges mind. She searches through the chaos of emotions to find something happy, but there is mostly anxiety coursing through her subject right now. She grabs a hold of something vaguely pleasing and retreats, dragging the memory with her and finally placing it in the Pensieve.

Bellatrix slumps in the chair, looking away as if violated. Hermione glances at the memory stirring to life in the silvery surface of the Pensieve. She sees Draco, younger and much healthier looking, and Bellatrix, who appears as some sort of animated corpse, in a rather posh study. Seeing both the old Bellatrix of the war years, and the now much healthier looking woman who is turning slightly so she, too, can view the memory, Hermione is struck with the difference between them. One is a bag of bones set in a frame of chaotic black hair and the other is more of an exquisite ivory carving set in... well, chaotic black hair.

Snapping her attention away from Bellatrix, she focuses on the memory that is projecting from the Pensieve.

...

July 1996 Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire England

'Concentrate, Draco. Close your mind.'

'I'm trying! It... it's painful.'

'Of course it is! I am assaulting your sodding mind, Draco!' A woman, gaunt and yellowing, shot up angrily from her seat across from a blonde boy and began pacing furiously.

'Occlumency is a skill you can only learn by mastering your emotions, steeling yourself. I will aggravate you as much as I can in any way I can, and your sole defence is to not rise to my bait. Do not let me taunt you into an emotion of any kind! Do not let me flatter you or anger you or anything else! Separate all of your feelings, choose one that is neutral to hold on to. Empty your mind. Master yourself' she instructs him. She turns suddenly and points her wand directly at his face.

'Legilimens.' she croons.

...

Hermione looks away and catches only a glimpse of Bellatrix's expression of triumph as Draco pushes her out of his mind.

Hermione quickly copies the memory and puts the copy into her own mind as instructed, before letting the memory course through her mind, allowing her a very different perspective.

...

He is doing well, much better than she expected if she's honest. He fights her at every turn. After a brief respite he squares his shoulders and looks at her directly again with a determined look on his face, every time. It makes her proud.

His memories are dull, like flipping through someone's History of Magic notes. There is his mother's endless doting and fierce manipulations. His father, whom Bellatrix could easily live for the rest of her days seeing no more of. His idiotic Hogwarts cronies. Of course, Snape and bloody Skeeter (who may have shared a dormitory with Bellatrix, but has only ever been close with Narcissa socially) pop up. There is the Potter boy and the Granger girl too often. They seem to aggravate him, so she pulls those memories out. Granger is disconcerting, indignant expression and stolen knowledge permanently plastered on her face and an air of authority and certainty that she has yet to realize will become very attractive when she is older.

Potter is an idiot, of course. She knew he would be, she did meet his father. She wonders briefly if the Dark Lord knows what she knows about Severus and the boy's mother. Severus does not know that she knows, but she taught him, too. And she is very skilled, after all. Skilled enough that not even Severus can tell anyone who exactly trained him.

Draco has some fantasies about a particular wizard, she notices. She vaguely remembers a witch she liked once, and decides not to reveal to him what she knows. It is private, she decides. She taunts and mocks him for most of the other things she finds, ruthlessly. He does not notice that she leaves this peculiarity alone. It isn't a very unusual proclivity, after all. Could be much worse. Could be centaurs. she thinks.

She notices his dislike for violence, his disgust for his inferiors borne out of fear. She sees how afraid he is, how afraid he has always been. She sees his longing for Lucius' approval. It is clear to her that Draco has no real understanding of the world her Lord is trying to create. Of course, it seems her Lord has forgotten it, too. That idle thought sends a burn from her Mark towards her heart. She reminds herself forcibly that she adores her Lord.

When the lesson ends she knows her nephew very well indeed. It is a privilege she knows she will abuse, for her need to lash out and unload some of her pain on others seems to grow stronger every day and as she watches the boy leave she felt a twinge of guilt that his days will be filled with fear. It is only a twinge, but it gives her hope. Perhaps there is something salvageable left of me in this shell after all, she muses. It feels like an unparalleled triumph rising swiftly through her chest. Azkaban took almost everything, but only almost. It did not take this.

...

Hermione holds her wand to her head and extracts the memory, putting it in a vial which she marks for Bellatrix's Healing records before flinging herself into the more comfortable chair waiting for her.

The memory had been mundane and not really very unexpected, but this first-hand account had certainly been a bit more than she'd bargained for. Bellatrix's emotions were raw and painful and very different from her own, a sort of echo-chamber of feeling, really. She grabbed a pepper-up potion from her jeans pocket and downed it in one. She'd never actually done this with the memories of someone in need of healing before, and if there was one thing clear to her in that emotional landscape it was that something was indeed very wrong with the person harbouring it.

'Well, that's a good start, I suppose.' she pronounces, having finally caught her breath.

'What, you've found a war crime already?' Bellatrix's voice sounds raw and angry. 'Well, I've cooperated. When do I get to have visitors?'

Hermione stares at the witch, flabbergasted, before making a decision.

'You never really stop trying to turn things to your advantage, do you?'

Bellatrix merely raises her eyebrows, a vein in her forehead pulsing. Hermione takes a deep breath.

'Soon. Let's call it a gesture of good faith for your cooperation. Who do you want a visit from?'

'My sister.'

Not unexpected, of course.

'I can arrange that.'

Bellatrix throws herself out of her chair and storms out, slamming the door behind her and shouting 'Well, I'll be waiting!', leaving Hermione to sort through what has happened.

The Floo call to arrange the visit from Narcissa (which is agreed upon by all to take place two months from now after Hermione confesses that she has already extracted important information from Bellatrix) turns out to take no time at all, and she gets gets in her notes both on the information extracted (Bellatrix knew about Lily and no one else knew she did. Clearly the woman has good information) and a good start on mapping Bellatrix's mind for the Healing plan. She'll need only a few more excursions before she can do a full extraction, she thinks, before glancing at the time. The spellwork is almost complete on the island. Thankfully her moody prisoner is sulking in her bedroom for the meeting.

Sneaking into the hall to meet up with herself goes without a hitch, and she's gotten quite a lot done today. Taking the time to feel out exactly how tired or not she is, she decides to press forward with her original schedule (thank Merlin for Pepper-Up Potions) and bounces up the stairs.

'BELLATRIX?' she shouts from the landing. 'ARE YOU READY TO CONTINUE?'

As Bellatrix stomps out of her room Hermione deduces she must indeed be and beckons her to come into the study again.

'Well done, that memory was very helpful.' she smiles. 'I've arranged for your visitor to come in two months if you've made enough progress.'

'Co-operate or else you can't have nice things, is it?' Bellatrix snorts. 'That isn't very polite.'

'Neither are you.' Hermione grins and while it might be just a trick of the light she imagines Bellatrixs' mouth twitches at the edges at that.

'Besides, if we manage to get your deposition finished by then she can visit you in your very own house.'

Bellatrix snorts and spits out 'Let's get on with it, then, shall we?' before reclining in her chair.

'Alright, so... something early this time, alright? Focus on childhood if you can.'

This time she pulls out a memory that is somewhat fractured, and she attempts another three extractions before finally getting a memory. By that time they're both too exhausted for much more and Hermione pops out and gets some takeaway for dinner before they both end up turning in.

November 12, 2003

After her usual run Hermione met Bellatrix in the kitchen. The older witch immediately pinned Hermione with a determined look when she entered.

'Do you even know how to cook with magic?'

'Of course I do!' Hermione blushed. 'I'm just not very good at it.' she admitted.

'Well, the thing is, Granger, that your food selection has so far made Azkaban and my previous arrangements all look like gourmet restaurants. While that is to be expected when the cook in charge is someone such as yourself, I suppose, the matter at hand is that I'm not terrible at cooking breakfast and am also very hungry. Would you please let me show you how it is done so I can get through the day without feeling like I'm going to upend to contents of my stomach for once?' she quickly holds up her hand with palms open toward Hermione. 'I won't try to use any magic, I'd merely instruct you.' she promises.

'Do we have what we need?' Hermione inquires.

When Bellatrix confirms, Hermione agrees to be taught the art of breakfast. Soon eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, tomatoes and potatoes are all sizzling happily in their respective pots and pans, and Hermione's wand techniques have been carefully and diplomatically adjusted by Bellatrix. Several times Bellatrix almost touches her arm, making Hermione suddenly quite aware again of how awkward this all is. They never touch each other if they can help it, and Bellatrix ends up merely hovering an inch over her elbow every time or watching her carefully from a few feet away.

Breakfast is, thankfully, excellent, making it all worth it.

'I didn't think you would know how to cook.' Hermione observes as she tucks in to a perfectly cooked sausage.

'No one ever thinks I know how to cook, and they are correct in the main. But breakfast is always good to know. Sometimes I travel.' Bellatrix states simply, glancing carefully at Hermione's newspaper, that mornings Guardian with no moving pictures.

'So it's not beneath you, then?' Hermione grins. 'Thought you had slaves for that sort of thing even when travelling.'

'Right.' Bellatrix sends her an icy look and dives headfirst back into her breakfast.

Once they're finished the dishwasher stacks itself and they head to the study to review an early memory. It turns out to be a simple one in which two small children, nearly identical, are fighting before one of them has a little rain-cloud set over her head. The child wails loudly and the other sees her moment to punch her adversary in the stomach before hurtling off when an invisible shield burns her hand. Bellatrix is left sopping wet and Andromeda is rubbing her hand miserably when their mother comes in and admonishes them. It's all very ordinary, and Hermione is very pleased. She indexes the memory and continues building her model for use in the full extraction after visiting the hurt feelings of child Bellatrix.