The memory and words were enough of a threat to have Hermione walking forward without complaint as the comforting grasp of Bellatrix’s hand clasped overtop her shoulder. The Witch steered her forward and around the large table that had been set up within the centre of the Hall for meetings and business, her eyes only just ghosting over where He would sit at the head. Had she been a younger version of herself, filled with more ideals and moors than she was now, she would have baulked at walking around the room naked, with a woman leading her from the back. Now though? Now it was a comfort to have a guide behind her, pushing her forward with a warm hand and a soothing blanket of magic.