FIC: Impossible, (3b/30)
Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic is set during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events in the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :)
(1), (2), (3a)
**
May 1959
“I don’t see why I can’t play!” Bellatrix said stubbornly. “S’not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Bella,” her mother said curtly. “You’re not old enough yet... you might get hurt.”
“I won’t,” Bellatrix protested. “I’ll be very careful, I promise.” She drew her hands over her heart to emphasise her declaration.
“My word is final,” Druella stated, ignoring Bellatrix and looking back down at the book she was reading.
Sulking, Bellatrix threw herself onto the floor, crossing her arms. She wore a frown on her face, her innocent wide-eyes piercing into her mother, trying to catch her attention again. It wasn’t fair! All she wanted was to chase the Snitch; the garden of their home had been bewitched so as not to allow the Snitch to escape for when her father played, and so there was no chance of a Muggle catching sight of it. Besides, they lived in a predominantly magical village considering that her parents didn’t want their three daughters to mix with non-magical folk. Privately, Bellatrix didn’t see the big deal, but the one and only time she had been stupid enough to say that to her father he had used his wand to magically beat her with his belt, never even bothering to go to the trouble of using his actual hands.
“What is the problem, Bellatrix?” her father said, entering the lounge area.
“I want to play Quidditch,” Bellatrix said, but this time politely, formally. Her father would not tolerate any level of rudeness, and Bellatrix quite liked being able to feel her buttocks again, thank you very much.
“I’ve said no, Cygnus,” Druella interjected.
Bellatrix looked up at her father, waiting expectantly for his answer.
“If that’s what your mother says, then my answer is also no,” he informed her.
Angry, Bellatrix launched herself upwards, her raven curls bouncing around her face as she did so. “I don’t understand why,” she stated, though as before, she kept her voice respectful. At the tender age of eight years old she had yet to learn how to keep her body language calm even when there was a storm raging within, but she had perfectly mastered the correct tone of voice needed, for this situation at least. The answer would still be no but at least she might understand the logic behind her parent’s decision. Telling her that she wasn’t old enough and that she might get hurt were silly excuses; nothing more.
Her parent’s looked at each other, and wordlessly they seemed to decide that it was Cygnus who would provide Bellatrix with the answer she so very much desired.
“You should not be allowed life’s pleasures, such as Quidditch, when you still have so much to learn, Bellatrix,” he said patiently. “There are many things that you have failed to understand so far in life, such as the importance of the privileged blood status you have been born with. You are a pure-blood, and it is time that you realised how special that makes you.”
“I do,” Bellatrix said, agreeing because she knew it was the only option. “I do, father.”
“Do not lie to me!” Cygnus hissed angrily, his dark eyes flashing. “I can see it in your eyes that you’re only saying this to please me, and that alone is enough to anger me.”
“I’m sorry,” Bellatrix said remorsefully. The last thing she wanted was to experience her father’s fury once again.
Cygnus waved off her apology. “Listen to me. If you begin to appreciate what I have been telling you and I see real evidence of this, then I will rethink the matter of you playing Quidditch.”
“Ok,” Bellatrix said slowly. “But how am I going to show you that I appreciate being pure-blood?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of a few ways,” her father said ominously.
Bellatrix nodded, trying not to look confused, knowing it would only irritate her father. She wanted him to be proud of her, to let her do fun things like ride on a real adult broomstick instead of the rubbish toy one she had shoved in the back of her closet. The only issue was proving to him that she had changed her opinions, and how to provide evidence of this. It was hard, especially when she didn’t really think that way at all. She supposed she could be mean to Muggles if she saw them, but they very rarely came across any, especially as her father despised them and went out of his way to avoid meeting any. The only other option seemed to be to target what she now knew were called Mudbloods; witches or wizards with Muggle parents. She herself didn’t see why that mattered to her parents, but if she wanted to play Quidditch then she would just have to come around to their way of thinking.
But she didn’t understand.
She didn’t understand one little bit.
**
After tormenting Hermione with the Cruciatus Curse (Hermione was beginning to think that was her favourite curse of all) Bellatrix had left her alone once more. However, before she exited she had commanded her female house-elf to bring Hermione food, which consisted of a lump of bread. The small house-elf had round, bulging, wide green eyes, large pointy ears and a nose that flicked upwards at the end. She looked to be younger than Dobby or Kreacher, the only two house-elves that Hermione had gotten to know really well. The house-elf had Apparated into the cell right next to Hermione, and for a moment she wondered if it was possible for her to Apparate too. Then she remembered how intelligent Bellatrix was, how she would never be so stupid, and that the house-elf’s own branch of magic could probably work outside of the Anti-Disapparition Jinx that had been placed on the area.
As far as the bland choice of food went, Hermione didn’t complain for she was absolutely starving, and this was the first time she had been fed since her arrival the day before. She supposed Bellatrix had assumed she had already eaten yesterday, and so on her first day the promise of being fed every day had not applied.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully to the house-elf.
The house-elf bowed, clutching the ragged pink towel that she wore. “You are most welcome, Miss.”
Hermione smiled. It felt nice to be treated like a human. She was sure that Bellatrix had forgotten to order the house-elf to be mean to her; if she knew that she was being respected in this manner then the Death Eater would no doubt have something to say about that. Taking the chance whilst she could, Hermione started up a conversation. “What’s your name?” she asked kindly.
The house-elf seemed taken aback by the question, but replied all the same. “My name is Lemmy, Miss.”
“Lemmy,” Hermione repeated. “My name is Hermione.”
“Miss Hermione,” Lemmy repeated, surprisingly pronouncing her name right. “What is you doing here, Miss? Is you a friend of Mistress Bellatrix’s?”
Torn, Hermione didn’t know what to say. On one hand, if she said she was Bellatrix’s friend then that was a lie that she would most likely eventually be called on. However, were she to say the real reason why she was there (and she was kind of confused that Lemmy had yet to discover this considering the fact that she was locked in a cell) then Lemmy may not want to speak to her anymore. In addition, she didn’t plan to tell Lemmy that she was a Muggle-born. Although the house-elf may not care, there was always the chance that she would considering Bellatrix was her Mistress. Only time would tell.
Weighing up the two options, Hermione decided that the truth would cause a whole lot less trouble in the long run. “She brought me here, but we’re not friends.”
“Oh, Lemmy sees,” Lemmy said, and her eyes held a sadness within. “Then Lemmy should probably not be talking to you.”
“Well, has Bellatrix told you not to talk to me?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Lemmy shook her head. “But still...”
“Maybe she wouldn’t mind,” Hermione attempted. It was a downright lie, but she wanted someone to speak to who wasn’t going to talk to her like crap. It was now evident that at no stage had Bellatrix bothered to tell her elf to be nasty to her, as Lemmy was perfectly polite. Hermione supposed Bellatrix must have too much on her mind, not that she minded, of course.“I promise not to say anything disrespectful about her, or talk about anything that will get you into trouble.”
Lemmy shook her head. “Lemmy does not know, Miss Hermione. Mistress Bellatrix is very good to Lemmy and Lemmy does not wish to disobey her. Maybe Lemmy should ask her permission.”
“No!” Hermione yelped, it barely registering that Lemmy had just implied Bellatrix chose to treat her well. “No... don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Lemmy frowned.
“Your Mistress has a lot to worry about at the moment,” Hermione said, thinking off the top of her head. “With the changes in the wizarding world happening, you know?”
Lemmy nodded. “Lemmy does not know what is happening exactly, but Lemmy knows she is working hard. Lemmy stays out of it, Miss Hermione.”
“You can just call me Hermione, you don’t have to call me Miss,” Hermione offered, but she took note of Lemmy’s words. From what she could gather the house-elf didn’t appear to have taken sides with anyone in the fight against Voldemort, as opposed to Kreacher who had taken on his Mistress’s views. However, Hermione was grateful for the fact that Lemmy appeared to differ in that she didn’t want to get involved; it would mean she may be able to find an ally in Lemmy, provided Bellatrix didn’t directly order her not to be nice to Hermione or to not speak to her.
Lemmy shuddered. “Oh, no, Lemmy prefers to call you Miss, Miss Hermione. Lemmy is only a house-elf after all.”
Hermione knew that now was not the appropriate time to get into a debate about the rights’ of a house-elf. The last thing she needed was for Bellatrix to find out about that; she would torture Hermione for the mere suggestion that they should be treated equally to humans. Bellatrix would most likely shriek with laughter and then state that Mudbloods were no better.
“Ok, well if that’s what makes you happy,” Hermione said, smiling.
Lemmy bowed her head once more. “Lemmy should go now, Miss,” she said, almost sounding reluctant. “Mistress Bella will be back soon, and she will be most displeased if Lemmy is not there to serve her.”
Hermione nodded. “I understand, Lemmy. Thank you for speaking with me,” she said gratefully, and she reached out a hand to affectionately touch Lemmy’s skinny little arm.
Lemmy’s eyes filled with tears at this simple gesture, and she bowed for the third time. “Lemmy will see you soon, Miss Hermione,” she said, and she disappeared with a crack.
Two thoughts occurred to Hermione upon Lemmy’s exit. One, that no matter how much she hated it, she would not ask Lemmy for any help in escaping. Not only would it be futile as the house-elf was bound to serve Bellatrix (Hermione didn’t even want to think about how the Death Eater had laid her hands on the elf in the first place) but it would be unfair to put Lemmy in such a position.
The second thought that occurred to Hermione was the most important; she could never let Bellatrix know that she had spoken with Lemmy. She doubted very much that Lemmy would mention the encounter to Bellatrix unless specifically asked, and luckily there was no reason for Bellatrix to suspect anything, not when she probably had more important Voldemort-related things on her mind. Nevertheless, to be sure that she never discovered Hermione’s secret, she would have to do her best with the information she possessed about Occlumency to improve her defences against Bellatrix breaking into her mind. It would be a tough branch of magic to master, but she was sure that she could do it.
If there was one thing that Hermione Granger liked, it was a challenge.
**
I hope people are still enjoying this. :)
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