Hermione shook her head as she passed the house elf for the dozenth time. She couldn’t deny the fact that she was hungry, the grumbling of her stomach a sure sign of that. Nor could she deny that the tray of food that the elf had come to deliver did in fact look and smell good. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Bellatrix had helped prepare it, as Dooly had assured her that they watched her like a hawk and didn’t actually let her cook any of it. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to eat even a bite of it.