Chapter Four

After months of sleeping rough anywhere he could close his eyes for a few minutes, Harry found the mattress in his hotel room too soft. He'd been surprised how easily he was able to fall asleep wrapped in nothing but his cloak with his head on a rock. As he lay awake staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, he was partly tempted to throw off the warm blankets and try to find some rest on the hard wooden floor. Only the slim, bare arm of the witch he met in the hotel's bar draped across his waist kept him from trying. All he needed was a story to make it to the press of his new eccentricities. They were already clamoring for anything they could find about their 'hero' they'd yet to discover.

A Ministry official was supposed to arrive at their hotel in Greenland early the next morning to officially escort the team back home with an international portkey. All of the other wizards were excited, ready to return to their own homes and their families. He'd considered staying behind for a little while longer. There was nothing to rush back to and the wizarding community in Greenland had been welcoming. Looking at the dark-haired beauty asleep on the pillow next to his, he smirked. Very welcoming.

What was waiting for him back home? A string of failed romances and a handful of crumbling friendships? He had no family. There would always be those who wanted to get close to him because of his fame and fortune, but he had grown weary of the users who only desired what he could do for them. The friends he had once taken for granted to his detriment had their own lives where he worried he was nothing more than a complication. Only his personal promise to Kingsley that he would return for some official ceremony prevented him from sneaking out of the hotel and disappearing into the icy wilderness.

The hand on his waist slid beneath the blankets. His new friend had woken up. Though he spoke no Greenlandic nor Danish and her English wasn't much better, the cheeky grin on her full lips didn't require an interpreter. Harry pulled the witch across his hips. There were better ways to spend his time than lamenting his inability to sleep. The least he could do was offer the woman an unforgettable night with the 'Dementor Destroyer' she could brag about later to all of her friends.

He would worry about tomorrow when it arrived.


No amount of extra security spells was enough to allow Hermione to relax for a decent night of sleep. She wished she'd taken the sleeping potion, but she'd been disappointed to discover her usually well-stocked supply was empty. Had she been relying on them more lately than she realized?

All night as she tossed and turned her mind jumped from one distressing topic to another. Knowing she was in the room next to a known murderous Death Eater was surprisingly not the bulk of her mind's concerns. Mostly she wondered what was going to happen next. What would be the next crisis she had to endure?

She worried about her friendship with Kingsley. Much more than just a worry he wouldn't be interested in resuming their scandalous private affair, she truly valued him as a friend. Never, not once in all the years they'd known each other had he acted so coldly. Forcing a Death Eater into her home as a punishment wasn't like him at all. Finally, when morning came, she decided she would just have to make it up to him somehow. She would find the legal loophole that would put Barty back in Azkaban and smooth it all over with Kingsley. There was too much history between them to not even try.

Her bedroom became a sanctuary in a home that no longer felt entirely hers. Not wishing to see Barty, she took her time getting ready for another long day at the office. The man unnerved her, made her want to avoid him by any means necessary. She didn't like the way he looked at her, especially after the comments he made about her body. Only knowing him as a Professor Moody impostor, she didn't really know what he was like other than insane. That was hardly an encouragement to make her want to spend more time in his presence.

Hiding in her room also allowed her the opportunity to avoid seeing Blaise for a little bit longer. He was going to be even more obnoxious than usual now that he knew about her secret affair. No doubt he would tease her mercilessly about losing her button and being forced to hide underneath Kingsley's desk. It was humiliating and he loved every moment. She might have to seriously consider a change in career before her ordeal was over.

After several deep breaths and reminding herself that she hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor for no reason, Hermione exited her room. She couldn't avoid the truth of her present reality any longer.

The house was quiet just as it usually was. Thinking for a second that Barty made a run for it in the middle of the night, she nearly groaned when she found him in the kitchen. He sat at her table with a plate of eggs reading the book she'd thrown at him the night before. From the looks of it, he was pretty far into it. Before she could stop herself from willingly trying to engage the man in conversation, her curiosity got the better of her good sense.

"Did you stay up all night?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but kept his eyes on the book.

"I've basically been asleep for twelve years. I'll go to sleep when I'm tired again."

There was already a fresh pot of tea waiting. Barty had his own teacup, so she didn't think it would be a dangerous idea to drink some herself. If he committed any sort of crime, he knew he would be sent straight to Azkaban. As she fixed her tea with the perfect amount of milk and the tiniest bit of sugar how she liked it, her eyes fixated on the rest of the scrambled eggs left on the stove. Her stomach practically shouted out its need for nourishment. When was the last time she'd eaten? She often forgot.

"I didn't spit in them if that's what you're worried about. I made extra in case you were hungry. Didn't think you had dinner in your bedroom last night."

Was he being thoughtful? She knew she couldn't trust him. There was always an agenda with people like him. Any means necessary was generally their mantra. She would have to be extremely careful. But, she couldn't deny they smelled good. After scooping some out onto a plate, she sat across from him at the table. She could be polite.

"I'm not the cook Winky was but I did learn enough from her to keep from starving."

His full focus returned to the book. Like she wasn't even there, he was able to alternate between taking a bite, sipping his tea, and turning the page. It was a skill they shared in common. Was he the same when he was a student at Hogwarts? Studying in the middle of a meal in the Great Hall was not always easy.

"Winky was still working at Hogwarts the last I heard. She sounded happier than she was after…"

Barty looked up from his book with a sad smile. Was there something still human about him after all? She was startled enough by the facial expression she couldn't finish her sentence.

"I felt badly about what happened to her. I never expected my father to…"

"To abandon and humiliate her after years of loyal service because of your reckless actions?"

All traces of his sad smile disappeared from his face for only a second before being replaced with another cold smile that felt less genuine. Her chest tightened. Despite her attempts to hide it, the unbalanced wizard frightened her.

"I don't regret casting the Dark Mark after the Quidditich World Cup and scaring those disloyal fools parading around like they had the right to pretend they were real Death Eaters."

There was an extreme bitterness in his tone that sent a chill up Hermione's spine. How was it even possible that after all he went through, including surviving the nightmare of a Dementor's Kiss, he could still feel so strongly about his former comrades? Did holding on to his anger help him keep hold of some small semblance of sanity under the dementors like it did for Sirius?

"Not a single one of them searched for the Dark Lord. They didn't deserve the marks on their arm. I would've gladly cut their arms off and crammed them down their throats given the opportunity, but I only had a short window of time before my father recaptured me. Had to make as large of an impact as I could. You saw how those bloody imbeciles tripped over their own robes to get away. Useless cowards."

Hermione hated thinking about that terrifying night hours after the Quidditch Cup Final. Even years after the fact when their world was undoubtedly safer, she could still remember how powerless and frightened she felt running through the chaos. It was one of the first times she truly understood how much danger she could be in just because of her blood status. She didn't know until she witnessed with her own eyes how the poor Muggles were attacked that there was so much hatred. Yes, she'd nearly died from the basilisk wandering the castle looking for Muggle-Born victims and Draco Malfoy loved to call her a Mudblood, but it didn't seem real somehow until that night. The last of her naïveté was lost in just a matter of minutes.

Recalling her paralyzing fear, she could no longer stomach the eggs. She banished her plate to the sink and stood up. Barty's eyes followed her every movement.

"It would've been better for everyone if no one ever went looking for him."

Outside her front door, Hermione took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the salty air. If she was somehow able to make it through the wretched experience of having the horrible man in her home for any length of time without killing him, it would be something of a miracle. What was being asked of her was a cruel and unusual punishment just for refusing to ignore the law.

By the time she arrived at the employee entrance to the Ministry, she was worked up into a near fit of anger and annoyance. She was highly tempted to go straight to Kingsley to offer him a piece of her mind. A man who enjoyed his routine and his comforts, she knew he would that second be in the middle of his first blueberry scone at his desk. Barty could've easily been placed somewhere else other than her spare bedroom. Halfway to his office, however, she decided against confronting Kingsley in her current state of agitation. She needed to calm down first.

Blaise arrived to their shared office shortly after she sat down at her desk. Even knowing to expect him to be painfully obnoxious about the events of the previous day, she still wanted to curse his grin off his handsome face. Was it a curse that she was forced to be annoyed both at home and her office?

"Good morning, love. How was your first evening with your delightful new house-guest?"

She was not in the mood to put up with her fellow legal analyst's teasing. It was bad enough under regular circumstances on ordinary days.

"Can we not discuss him please? It's bad enough we have to research his case."

For a blissful and yet all too brief few minutes, Blaise actually appeared as if he might cooperate with her wishes. He silently removed his cloak, hung it up on a hook on the back of their office door, and began sifting through the stack of legal documents that never failed to appear on their desks each morning. The scratching of his quill on parchment lulled her into a false sense of peace and security.

"Bit surprising the Minister insisted you take him. I imagine having a house-guest, welcome or not, would make sneaking around more difficult."

Blaise was not intimidated by her harsh glares. If anything, they only seemed to spur him on to higher levels of obnoxious behavior.

"Unless your relationship is more about stolen moments during working hours. If that's the case, I think I might respect you even more, love."

"Stop. It's none of your business."

His smirk threatened to push her over the edge. She didn't appreciate always being the butt of his jokes. It was wearing and she only had a limited amount of patience. Each day she felt as if she had less and less. Was that a result of growing older or something less tangible? In many areas of her life she felt she teetered on the edge, only a heartbeat away from toppling over.

"I would've never imagined your personal life was quite so exciting. Yes, when you were close friends with Potter, years before you were jealous of his…"

She wasn't going to sit there any longer listening to Blaise's comments. On the verge of lashing out at him physically or at least with a nasty spell, Hermione knew she needed to get away from him before she did something she'd regret, or worse, something that might get her fired.

"I'm going down to the Ministry Archives to research the laws regarding Dementor's Kiss sentences. You can handle all of these cases yourself."

As she made her escape from their too-small office, she banished the large stack of files from her desk to his. The sound of his laughter followed her out of the door. She could hear his chuckles ringing in her ears halfway to the lifts.

Only steps from the destination she caught Kingsley's eye as he spoke in hushed tones with the Head Auror. Too late to avoid by using the stairs instead, she walked right past the wizards. Kingsley still looked annoyed and Auror Savage never did seem to have much use for her in all the years they'd worked together. It was best if she ignored them for the time being. She would rather wait to speak to the Minister again when they were both calmer.

Tucked away in the quiet corridor on the lowest level of the underground building was the vast collection of the Ministry's Archives. Few officials liked to be anywhere near the dusty scrolls and tomes, but Hermione found solace and comfort amongst its bookshelves. Similar in many aspects to the Hogwarts library, she could easily lose herself for hours and not regret a moment. Blaise certainly never bothered to follow her down there. He much preferred sending a purple interdepartmental memo to the clerks to have them pull and deliver whatever file he required. It was the one place in the Ministry Hermione knew she could be alone.

Used to seeing her there, the clerks waved hello when she entered but didn't even ask if she needed their help. They rarely bothered her when she went searching. Part of her suspected she might even know the Archives better than at least a couple of the clerks.

She had no trouble finding the section devoted to the barbaric punishment the Ministry used to reserve for its worst criminals. Or perhaps more accurately, its alleged criminals who caused them the most headache. She could never forget that Sirius Black, an innocent man, nearly lost his soul that stressful night in her third year. Without her time-turner and the trip she took with Harry to the past, she didn't want to think about what might have happened. Mistakes ruined too many innocent lives.

Research was easy to get lost in. She read gruesome description after gruesome description of the process of the Dementor's Kiss. Worse than her very worst nightmare, she couldn't even begin to imagine how terrifying it would be to see under a dementor's hood and know it was coming to remove the soul from your body. It was no wonder Harry was so afraid of the monsters. He had come as close as anyone still alive to tell the tale.

Except for Barty. He'd actually gone through the entire process. For twelve years the shell of his body languished away in the basement of St. Mungo's. No one cared about him. No one visited. Few even seemed to know he was physically still alive until he woke up and demanded he be released. Hermione forgot he even existed until she heard his name as she hid under Kingsley's desk. If she spared him even a glancing thought over the years she'd assumed he'd died long ago.

What did it feel like to have your soul quite literally sucked out of your body? Was it painful? Or were you too frightened to even register the pain? Some of the records indicated it wasn't unheard of for a prisoner to drop dead of a heart attack before the process was complete. She'd read of people being frightened to death, but couldn't even fathom how scared a person must have been.

Did Barty remember it all? Was that why he had not wanted to go to bed the night before? He claimed he wasn't tired, but what if it was more than that? What if he saw the dementor who Kissed him every time he closed his eyes? She wouldn't want to try to sleep either. If she asked him, would he tell her what it was like? Did she really want to know? She doubted she would ever be able to forget what he told her. Maybe it was best just to ignore her own curiosity for once.

What happened to the soul once it was out of Barty's body? Based on it returning to his body at the same moment the last dementor died, she had to assume it went somewhere. Where? Did he know? She had so many questions. Each account she read of the punishment recorded throughout history only added more questions to the list.

"Hermione?"

Kingsley's whisper startled her out of her thoughts. Nearly dropping the scroll she held, she jumped. When did he arrive? How was it possible for an imposing man like him to be so quiet? Though still annoyed with him, she was determined she would be cordial.

"Good morning, Kingsley. I didn't see you."

He was calmer than he was when they passed on Level Two and much calmer than the day before. Did he spend his time coming to the conclusion that he'd been unreasonable? She certainly hoped so. If the sheepish grin he gave her meant he was also a little embarrassed that was even better.

"How did your night go?"

Her earlier promise to herself to remain calm became more difficult. How could he frustrate her so thoroughly with a simple question? Deciding it was better to just get it all out in the open, she was honest.

"Did you make me take him home because you were mad at me?"

Unable to look her in the eye, she knew he was ashamed. Even the influential and powerful Minister for Magic could be made to feel like a naughty boy when he was in the wrong.

"Perhaps a little."

She sighed. Pain building in the back of her head made it all worse. Would she even be able to make it through the entire day?

"I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll find somewhere else for him to stay."

"Like where? Your house?"

"Not bloody likely."

"Then where?"

"He can wait in Azkaban."

Hermione sighed again, not even needing to ask to know what he would say, but doing it anyway.

"You would have him wait in Azkaban to see if we have to send him back to Azkaban? And then I suppose once he was there, you would encourage me to take my time researching any legal loopholes?"

Kingsley smirked, but unlike she usually did, Hermione didn't find it nearly so handsome.

"Well, yeah."

"That's wrong, Kingsley. I don't like him any more than you do, but…"

"He kept my mentor and one of my closest friends locked in a fucking trunk for months. Without his help and nearly getting your best friend killed, Voldemort may never have been able to come back."

Nothing he said was wrong. She couldn't argue with him. When she placed a gentle hand on his firm chest, he started to calm down. Just like a number of her loved ones and cherished friends, he could exhibit the worst traits of a Gryffindor as easily as the best. It would've been charming if it wasn't also infuriating.

As so often happened when they were alone, Kingsley seized his opportunity to kiss her. There was such strong physical chemistry between them that when emotions were high for any reason, they struggled to keep their hands to themselves. A pleasant memory of a past encounter when he'd found her alone in the Archives pushed to the front of her mind. She hadn't been able to enter the room for months without blushing. Thanks to Kingsley's strength and physical fitness, it hadn't been difficult for him to press her against one of the bookshelves and pound into her so hard books and scrolls fell all around them. Not that they noticed of course.

The proper silencing and Notice-Me-Not spells hadn't been cast around their immediate area to encourage their kiss to heat up. Not that that always stopped them before. But, the middle of the day was much different than the evening. There were more potential witnesses. Kingsley was the one to break the kiss and step back with a cheeky grin that promised her there was always more if she wanted it.

"So do you want me to have the aurors take him to Azkaban now or wait until you're home?"

She couldn't believe he was still considering his earlier suggestion. It was wrong.

"No, Kingsley, as much as I can't stand the horrible man, legally we can't just arrest him."

Like a good Gryffindor, Kingsley's temper could turn in a heartbeat. He was furious.

"If that's how you feel, I hope you enjoy your house-guest because Crouch remains your responsibility."

The Minister stormed out of the Archives in a flurry of his robes. Alone again, Hermione was annoyed, but she wasn't angry with Kingsley. He was a good man who had every right to be upset and want to lock the Death Eater away. Barty was directly responsible for countless deaths. Not to mention the role he played in torturing Neville's parents into madness. She would rather never see him again as long as she lived. She wouldn't, however, break the law or imprison someone unfairly. Until she found a loophole, Barty had technically served his sentence. It was a complicated mess.

For the rest of her day, Hermione researched the dusty files and found nothing. Just as she and Blaise suspected, there was no precedent. Once a person was subjected to the Dementor's Kiss, they never recovered. Each dead-end left her even more exhausted. Was she just wasting her time? Worse, was she stuck with Barty in her house forever?

When she couldn't bear to read another word, Hermione packed away her notes in her office. Mercifully, Blaise was nowhere to be found. She wasn't sure she had it in her to deal with him again.

Cold rain continued to pour down on her head when she arrived home. It was just great for her rather dismal mood. No longer able to see her house as her sanctuary, she pushed open the front door with dread in the pit of her stomach. What fresh hell would she find inside?

Perfectly silent within, she was suspicious. The door to the spare bedroom was open but no sign of her 'guest'. On the kitchen table the history book was left in the middle as proof that Barty had been there at some point, but no clue to his current whereabouts. The back door in the kitchen was left wide open. A puddle of rainwater collected on the floor. Hermione stepped out into the back garden expecting to find him. Once more there was no sign of Barty or any indication where he might be.

Hermione sighed. Was this to be her life from then on? She'd always loathed babysitting.