Witches. Demons. Monsters made from flesh, made from bone, monsters cursed to wander the world alone and unafraid of any form of death. Beauty that left Hermione in such a roiling headspace that there was nothing at all for her to do except wander away within the Forest until it sent her back. The Gods below must have planned this, she knew it. It certainly wasn’t her fault that the jailer she had been assigned was just as beautiful as Hermione could ever imagine. Nor was it her fault that Bellatrix hid her darker aspects and her history with such a tight grip that every hour that passed left her growing closer and closer to grabbing the woman’s shoulders.