FIC: Impossible, (9/30)
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 begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout 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), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), ( 8.),
**
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Just say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
The Fray, Over my head
**
9.
Hermione must have passed out because when she awoke she was lying on the floor of her cell, with no recollection of how she had been released from the restraints. She assumed it was Bellatrix who had freed her, as the raven haired witch was leant over her, almost singing what looked to be the counter-curse to Sectumsempra, as she traced her wands over the wound Hermione had suffered. Attempting to lift her head up, Hermione tried to catch a glimpse of her injuries to see whether they were healing, but she found that she was too weak. Instead she slumped her head back against the floor and concentrated on breathing in and out, hoping that her rapid heartbeat would calm or just give out completely. Either one would do her fine, though preferably the latter.
After what felt like a few more minutes, Bellatrix stopped the incantation and said sharply, “Stay still and don’t move. Understand?”
Feebly, Hermione nodded her head. Bellatrix must have determined that it was a nod, however, as she stood up and walked over to Rodolphus. Hermione turned her head to see Bellatrix take his wand before she flicked her own, bringing him out of unconsciousness. Moaning, Rodolphus opened his eyes, and upon fixing his eyes on Bellatrix his expression changed, and he glared at his wife looking as though he utterly loathed her.
He appeared to search around for his wand, and when he realised it was nowhere around him, he commanded, “Give me my wand, Bellatrix.”
“You can have it back in a moment,” she said dismissively. “First, I want to speak to you.” Eyes blazing, she lifted her foot and slammed it down against Rodolphus’s stomach. Hard.
“What the fuck, Bellatrix?” Rodolphus yelped, and then catching his breath, he asked angrily, “What is your problem?”
Bellatrix repeated the action, shrieking, “My problem?! My problem, you pathetic little bastard is that you nearly killed my pet! It’s insulting enough that you decided to take it upon yourself to come and play with her without my permission, but to find her in such a mess is going too far!”
“Well if you did a proper job with her then I wouldn’t have to,” Rodolphus spat. “How exactly have you had any fun with that?”
“Unlike you, Rodolphus, I like my Mudblood to be capable of conversation and to be able to look after herself. I don’t exactly relish the idea of constantly having to go out looking for replacements because my pets keep dying on me. She is a satisfactory choice that I am happy with!” Bellatrix retorted.
“Happy with her?” Rodolphus said, standing up, only swaying slightly. “You make it sound as though you actually like her.”
Hermione was unable to see Bellatrix’s expression from the angle she was lying in, but she assumed it was somewhere along the line of murderous as even Rodolphus looked disconcerted for a brief moment. Whether Bellatrix was insulted with the idea or furious that he had gotten it exactly right, Hermione didn’t know. Nevertheless, she did suspect that there was something Bellatrix saw in her that was appealing, hence why she had lasted so long.
Rodolphus, looking worried took a step back so that he was now right up against the wall, and could move no further away from his wife.
“I like the fact that she is alive; nothing more,” Bellatrix said, her voice quiet, dangerous. “What exactly are you implying?”
Rodolphus stared. “I think you know exactly what I am implying.”
Another bang, and Rodolphus was on the floor. Seconds later and he was writhing around, screaming in agony as Bellatrix performed what Hermione assumed to be a non-verbal Cruciatus Curse. It looked horrendous, and sounded worse. For a brief moment, Hermione wondered if that was what she looked like when it was happening to her. If so, it was horrible. Don’t do this. No.
“You don’t ever do this again,” Bellatrix said, briefly stopping to command Rodolphus. “Next time, I will do to you exactly what you have done to my Mudblood, and more. Do you understand?”
Rodolphus ignored her.
As Bellatrix performed the Cruciatus Curse again, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She felt so weak and vulnerable that all she wanted was to pass out again, but she had no such luck. Moreover, Bellatrix seemed determined to teach Rodolphus a lesson, as she allowed the curse to go on for longer than the previous time, until Rodolphus’s screams were so loud that his voice began to sound hoarse from the force of his yells.
After what felt like forever, the screaming stopped. Bellatrix threw Rodolphus’s wand at him, and ordered. “Get out of my sight! GO ON! GO!”
Shaking, (though with rage or fright it was hard to distinguish) Rodolphus lifted his wand and scrambled past Bellatrix, out of the cell to Apparate home, Hermione assumed. He didn’t protest or threaten Bellatrix and merely left immediately without another word. Considering his behaviour, Hermione got the feeling that Bellatrix had done this sort of thing to him before, and that by now he was used to it. Part of her hated that she had to witness his pain, whereas the other more sadistic side of her believed that he deserved it and that it was his fault. Never had she thought herself capable of thinking this way, but after all she had been through there were changes going on inside her own head that she could not control.
“Lemmy!” Bellatrix said, ignoring Hermione for the moment, still facing in the direction Rodolphus had lay.
Immediately the house-elf appeared. She gazed at Hermione with fright, and then fixed her gigantic eyes upon Bellatrix. “You called, Mistress Bella?”
“Lemmy, I need you to bring me a Blood-Replenishing Potion,” Bellatrix said firmly. “Quickly!”
“Yes, Mistress Bella,” Lemmy squeaked, and Apparated away without so much as a glance in Hermione’s direction.
Finally, Bellatrix walked back over to Hermione. “You will need to drink the potion the moment she returns or your life will be in danger again.”
Hermione swallowed. “I don’t particularly want to live anyway.”
“Well you’re going to,” Bellatrix said sharply. “You will do as I say.”
Kneeling down beside Hermione, she began healing each of the wounds that Rodolphus had caused her that hadn’t been serious enough for her to attend to before. Not only did she heal, but she did so tenderly, not so roughly as to cause Hermione further pain. Despite her vulnerable position Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to be too embarrassed by the fact she was naked, her dirty towel discarded to the side. Bellatrix had seemingly chosen to ignore this vulnerability and therefore so would she. Besides, she was so consumed with shock at the fact that Bellatrix had defended her, saving her from Rodolphus, that she didn’t have time to focus on the more humiliating aspects. Bellatrix had not joined in, even going so far as to save her life. It didn’t make much sense at the moment, and unfortunately Hermione was still far too weak to consider the meaning of this in detail. What would it achieve, anyhow?
Not having the strength to argue with Bellatrix, Hermione didn’t reply to her statement. The silence wasn’t so bad, but she thought Bellatrix was staring at her. She couldn’t be sure, however; no way did Hermione have the courage to look directly at her, scared that she would say something hurtful. It was doubtful that the Death Eater would attack her when she was in such a weak and vulnerable state, but that wouldn’t stop her from offending Hermione with her words to make up for it. Bellatrix was evidently furious at the moment, but Hermione didn’t know whether that fury was directed at herself, Rodolphus, or perhaps even both of them.
When Lemmy returned, she handed the Blood-Replenishing Potion straight to Bellatrix. She glanced at Hermione, gave a terrified squeak, and then with a crack left immediately after Bellatrix had dismissed her. Doing as she was told, Hermione drank the potion, and found that within seconds she had started to feel stronger and more like her old self. She still felt shaky and seriously ill, but no longer as though she were on the verge of passing out.
“Did my dear husband cause you any other injuries that I cannot see?” Bellatrix asked eventually, sitting beside Hermione on the floor. She no longer sounded as angry as she had a few moments ago. If Hermione didn’t know any better she would say that Bellatrix seemed concerned. Almost. Just a little bit. Slightly.
“No,” Hermione said quietly. “Other than the ones to my face you dealt with. Oh and a threat to rape me, of course.”
Hissing through her teeth, Bellatrix mumbled something under her breath.
“Pardon?” Hermione asked, curious. She wasn’t sure she was meant to hear, of that she was certain, but there was no harm in asking. Was there? Sure, with Bellatrix there was always the risk of harm, though would she dare to lay a finger on Hermione after what had just happened? On some level she had to care about keeping Hermione here, because otherwise she wouldn’t have acted so swiftly in an attempt to keep her alive.
Apparently asking sometimes paid off, as Bellatrix did indeed deign to answer Hermione. “I said that if he does it again, I will murder him myself.”
She does care, Hermione thought, before seconds later reality hit home. Bellatrix was just angry that Rodolphus had interfered with her business and almost taken away Hermione, someone she saw as her possession. It would have been the same no matter who he had taken; Bellatrix was livid with Rodolphus for his behaviour, and she didn’t give a damn about Hermione’s suffering. Here in this cell, Hermione’s only identity was that of a Mudblood, and it was about time she started remembering that, even if Bellatrix did appreciate that she was a Mudblood with brains. That’s all it is, Hermione. Idiot.
“I’m just thankful that I bothered to pay attention to Snape when he told me of the Counter-Curse,” Bellatrix continued.
I’m not, Hermione wanted to say, but she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she replied, “He would have done it, wouldn’t he?”
“Done what?” Bellatrix frowned.
“Raped me,” Hermione said, ignoring the bile at the back of her throat. Never before had she been in such a terrifying situation. It was the sort of thing that appeared in Muggle newspapers all the time, but in the wizarding world, it had never been so much of a prominent problem. Oh it happened of course, but far less often than it did in the Muggle world. In that respect, the Death Eaters did have a point. There was evil in the Muggle world much the same as the wizarding world. The only difference was that the majority of evil in the wizarding world was caused by Death Eaters, whereas in the Muggle UK, it was a variety of people. Delinquents, criminals, chavs, call them what you must, but they caused pain much the same as Voldemort’s supporters did.
Bellatrix sighed. “Yes. Yes, he probably would. Honestly, I’m surprised it isn’t the first thing he did before he beat you. You’re a pretty little thing, after all.”
Her comment unnerved Hermione. No sarcasm followed, no offensive nickname. Searching Bellatrix’s face for a sign of amusement, Hermione found none. All she saw was that Bellatrix looked utterly exhausted, for there were purple tinted bags under her eyes, and her cheekbones were more prominent than usual, as though she had been losing weight. Her skin was paler too, her brown eyes not as lively. If she were a Muggle then Hermione would have considered her to have gone on a week-long drug or alcohol fuelled binge. Parties, raves, pubs and clubs, anything to forget the pain. And then she remembered that wizards drank too; they just had their own versions of popular Muggle drinks, and didn’t do things quite in the same fashion as Muggles, though the basic premise was the same.
Shaking her head, Hermione focused once more on the present. “I think it’s because I pissed him off,” she confessed. “He... he doesn’t like to talk like you. He just wanted to hurt me.”
“I warned you,” Bellatrix threw at her. “Didn’t I tell you that you had it easy, here with me? Of course, I didn’t want him to know that, but between us... don’t you see, now, little one?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, because honestly, she did. She now saw what she had failed to properly see before she had gotten to know Bellatrix a little better; there was humanity left inside the older woman. It was a very small amount, but it was present, and if Hermione could just nurture that, encourage it to grow, then maybe there would be hope for Bellatrix yet. It was unlikely, but then hadn’t she been told time and time again that anything was possible if you tried hard enough? Ever since she was a young child her parents had encouraged her to be the best she could at everything she did, and so Hermione would make it her mission to bring Bellatrix around to her way of thinking, no matter how tough things got. Plus, she liked the idea of there being a secret between herself and Bellatrix; it strengthened their slowly growing bond. Why she liked this idea so much she wasn’t fully aware, but she guessed it may be that she just craved friendly contact with another human being.
“You look awful,” Bellatrix said bluntly, her eyes sweeping over Hermione’s naked form, as if she had only just noticed that Hermione was not wearing her towel.
Hermione didn’t take offence to this; she knew it to be true. Her injuries may have been healed, but that didn’t mean she looked any better considering that she was probably pale and drawn from the shock of what happened. “I know,” she agreed.
Bellatrix sighed again, and conjured with her wand a clean, fresh towel for Hermione to wear. “Put this on for now, and I’ll get my house-elf to give you a bath.”
“Really?” Hermione asked, suspicious.
Why was Bellatrix being so nice to her? Or at least, as nice as it was possible for a Death Eater to be? She may not be doling out the hugs and fussing over Hermione, but this was so much coming from a person such as Bellatrix, who cared about nothing and no one, and liked to torture just for the fun of it. Hermione didn’t want to ask the question aloud, but it must have showed in her face (or else Bellatrix used her Legilimency skills so successfully that she didn’t even know what she was doing or feel the after-effects) as Bellatrix explained herself anyway.
“I feel ill just looking at your dirty blood dripping all over my floor,” she said disdainfully. “The sooner you’re cleaned up, the better.”
Nodding, Hermione remained silent. It was a feeble excuse marred with an insult that Bellatrix was most likely hoping would draw Hermione’s attention away from her kindness. Hadn’t she tried a similar trick in the bathroom herself? She tried to remain impassive about this, knowing that feelings and emotions would make it easier for Bellatrix to see what she was thinking, but it was hard when there was a rush of gratitude naturally crashing through her chest. Her parents had brought her up to be thankful for every small gift she was ever given, and this so far was the only real compassion she had received from Bellatrix.
Even if she were forced to have a cold bath, at least in the aftermath she would feel clean once again. Maybe if she was nice enough to Lemmy and there was the opportunity, the house-elf would cast another Heat Charm for her. She doubted that Bellatrix would go to the lengths of forbidding her to do that; it most probably hadn’t even entered her mind.
Remembering that Bellatrix was only inches away from her and that in her weakened state she would be able to continue seeing inside her head without a great deal of effort, Hermione quickly forced her mind to go blank. She needn’t have worried, however, as Bellatrix was already leaving.
“My house-elf will be along shortly,” she said, as she locked the cell once more, leaving Hermione lying on the floor without so much as a backwards glance.
**
October 1969
“So you see, it really is that simple. Magic is might, Bellatrix,” Lord Voldemort said.
Awed, Bellatrix nodded. For the last hour she had listened quietly whilst the stranger, calling himself Lord Voldemort, explained exactly what his plans were for the wizarding world, politically and beyond. He stood for everything that she had been taught was right from a young age, and moreover, he explained that by helping him, she could have all she had ever wanted. Power... glory... the world at her feet. Those that provided the best service to him and were the most loyal, Lord Voldemort had explained, would be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. The reddish glow in his eyes made Bellatrix believe in him, for some inexplicable reason. His sharper than sharp cheekbones, deathly pale skin, thin lips and flattish nose all contributed to the waves of power he gave off, though Bellatrix couldn’t explain that either. Lord Voldemort was like nothing she had ever seen before.
Pure-bloods would rule, he said. It was wrong that so many Mudbloods were infiltrating the magical world, tainting its’ purity. They would be stripped of their powers, and punished accordingly. Those in control would create a better place for everyone worthy of studying magic, and would make the wizarding race far more powerful than it currently was. What could be better? What more could Bellatrix, a worthy pure-blood, possible want?
“Are you interested in becoming a part of the cause, Bellatrix? Rodolphus has already agreed to work for me, and I would be most obliged if you would too,” Lord Voldemort told her with an emotionless smile.
“Of course,” Bellatrix said, no hesitation whatsoever. This was what she had been waiting for since she was a small child who had learned she would be married off to another pure-blood and expected to serve a man that she most likely didn’t love. It would give her something to focus on, a job that she could put her heart and soul into. This wizard, Lord Voldemort, was going to be the answer to all her problems and more. He was going to give her what she had always wanted; a purpose in life.
“Wonderful,” Lord Voldemort said swiftly. “I must leave now, for I have another meeting to attend with others interested in being of service to me. I will be in touch to discuss what the next stage is as soon as I believe I have the right amount of people necessary for us to proceed to the next stage.”
“We understand,” Rodolphus said, and Bellatrix shot him a dirty look. What right did he have to answer for her? The only reason she had married him was because it was what was expected of her; it didn’t give him the right to start treating her like she was his with no mind of her own.
Turning back to Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix’s eyes connected with his. A hint of another icy smile played around his cheeks, and if Bellatrix didn’t know any better, she would have imagined him to know exactly what she was thinking. But no, how ridiculous. Legilimency was one of the most complex skills to acquire, something that was evident from Bellatrix’s attempts so far. She was determined to become accomplished, but to become truly proficient it may take years longer, for she was not satisfied to merely perform it to a mediocre level.
“Perhaps you could show me to the door?” Lord Voldemort said, pointedly looking at Bellatrix. Rodolphus looked slightly discomforted at the request, but he kept his mouth shut, not even attempting to protest. Perhaps he sensed that he would be ridiculed, mocked. Whatever the motivation, Bellatrix was grateful.
“I would be most obliged,” she said graciously, and standing, she led the way through the vast hallway, over to the heavy, rich brown, oak door. She opened it and stood backwards, leaving more than enough room for Lord Voldemort to pass.
“You know, Bellatrix,” Lord Voldemort said. “Legilimency and Occlumency would be far easier for you if you did not allow your emotions to get in the way.”
“I don’t,” Bellatrix denied. And then, deciding there was no point in her acting as though Lord Voldemort hadn’t been inside her mind, she added, “As you’ve seen for yourself, there is no love between myself and Rodolphus.”
“I am not talking about love,” Lord Voldemort said, and he looked disgusted. “Love is nothing. I mean the other emotions that you feel; frustration, anger, hatred. You must learn to channel those feelings through others means in situations where it will benefit you.”
“Such as?” Bellatrix asked, unsure what he was referring to.
Explaining, Lord Voldemort gave an example immediately. “Such as purification of the wizarding race.”
Bellatrix frowned. “I don’t... how? How would I do that?”
Lord Voldemort smiled. “That’s what we’ll discuss upon our next meeting. For now just concentrate on abolishing your emotions. Occlumency is just as essential as Legilimency, especially considering that they go hand in hand and learning one will help you to understand the other.” Bowing his head, he span on his foot to leave, and at once Bellatrix knew that she was permitted to ask no more questions for the moment. She watched Lord Voldemort walk, seemingly gliding with each step he took down the driveway.
Bellatrix shut the door, and upon turning around, she was faced with Rodolphus. How much had he heard?
“So? What did you think?” He asked, surveying her.
Without delving into her husband’s mind and just by reading the look on his face, Bellatrix could tell that he had heard nothing of her last conversation with Lord Voldemort. She smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in as long as she could remember. “I thought he was brilliant.”
**
When Lemmy had led Hermione to the bathroom without Bellatrix attending, Hermione was surprised. That surprise turned to shock when she was guided into a bath of hot water with bubbles that immediately made Hermione feel calmer, relaxed. She wondered briefly if there was actually something in the bath, or if she was just relieved to be getting treated like a human for a change, and imagining that the bath was an external cause of this. Either way, she didn’t really care. She was just going to appreciate it whilst it lasted.
Lying in the bath, Hermione remained still as Lemmy fussed over her. The elf had immediately set about washing her hair, and even running her hands over the marks left by the Sectumsempra spell, and making them fade drastically, as though they were year old scars. At once, Hermione was reminded of just how strong elf magic was when they were permitted to use it. The lasting aches felt much better, and the throbbing stopped the moment Lemmy had passed her hands over each one.
“Lemmy cannot make the injuries disappear entirely, Miss,” Lemmy informed her. “But Lemmy can help stop the pain and make them look not so bad as they heal.”
“You... you’ve done more than enough already, thank you, Lemmy,” Hermione said gratefully.
“This one here,” Lemmy said, gesturing to Hermione’s stomach that was half covered in bubbles. “This one was the worst, was it not?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, trying not to think about the Sectumsempra Curse that had nearly killed her. For just a few moments she wanted to forget the world around her and allow her mind and body to heal.
“Master Rodolphus is a bad man,” Lemmy muttered, and Hermione stiffened, sure that Lemmy was about to hurt herself for speaking ill of her Master. But the attempt at self-injury never came, leaving Hermione confused.
“Are you... are you allowed to say such things about your Master?” she queried, then realising how it must have sounded, added quickly, “Not that I mind, I just... well I didn’t think elves could do that without punishing themselves.”
Lemmy shook her head. “No Miss, we can’t. But Lemmy belongs to Mistress Bella, and she says that Lemmy can say anything Lemmy likes about her husband, Miss. She says he... she says he’s...” Lemmy’s voice trailed off.
“She says he’s what, Lemmy?” Hermione asked, curious.
“She says he is an arse,” Lemmy whispered.
Hermione grinned, and then, without thinking, she laughed. It was a full-blown belly laughed that made the wound on her stomach throb, but still she continued. For the first time since she had been brought here, she had found something truly hilarious.
“Is... is you ok?” Lemmy asked, looking worried.
“F-fine, Lemmy,” Hermione said, her laughter tailing off. “I just... well you cheered me up, Lemmy. Thanks!”
“No problem,” Lemmy replied, still looking confused, but no longer pressing the issue. Changing the subject, she informed Hermione, “When we is done here, Lemmy is to take you to Mistress Bella’s bedroom.”
The smile was wiped from Hermione’s face as she heard this. “Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered.
“It is where she told Lemmy to bring you,” Lemmy explained. “She said Lemmy is to dry you, make you presentable and take you to her room.”
“But she didn’t say why?” Hermione pressed.
“No Miss, she did not,” Lemmy said regretfully.
No longer able to relax, Hermione started to feel frightened. Why would Bellatrix want her brought to her bedroom? It didn’t make any sense. Other than when she had first arrived and the two trips to the bathroom, Hermione had been cooped up in her little cell twenty-four seven. It could be simply that Bellatrix was bored of having to see Hermione there, but then why ask to see her in the bedroom? Why not ask Lemmy to take her to one of the downstairs rooms? The entire situation was confusing to Hermione, and she had no idea what was going on in Bellatrix’s head. If only I had a clue at how to perform Legilimency, she thought, feeling frustrated.
“Oh and Lemmy almost forgot Miss, before Lemmy takes you to Mistress Bella’s bedroom, you must come to the kitchen to eat a proper meal. It is late though, nearly twelve already, and Mistress Bella wants to sleep so you must be quick,” Lemmy added.
“Huh?” Hermione said. What in the name of Merlin was Bellatrix playing at? Not only had she been granted a bath, but she was being given food as well? Hermione felt as though she might pass out from the shock of it.
“You needs to eat, Miss,” Lemmy admonished, as though Hermione had been requesting only a lump of bread a day herself, and was rejecting all offers of food. “It will help you to recover.”
“Ok,” Hermione said, knowing she wasn’t going to get anymore information out of Lemmy. The house-elf seemed to be told all she needed to know and sometimes a little more, but evidently not in this case. Bellatrix had clearly not explained why she wanted Hermione to be treated differently all of a sudden, and so Hermione would just have to do as she was told and go along with it, enjoying it whilst it lasted.
“Does you like pasta?” Lemmy squeaked.
Hermione managed a small smile for the elf who was only trying to be nice to her, even though she suddenly felt like crying. It wasn’t her fault that there was a war, that her Mistress was fighting for the wrong side. Lemmy was not the prejudice one, and she was not responsible for Hermione’s friends and family being put in danger by the current circumstances. She was just doing her job, obeying the Mistress that she served and relaying a message to Hermione. That was all.
Blinking back the tears, Hermione forced out a reply, trying to sound bright and cheerful. “Yes, I do Lemmy. That sounds great.”
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 10 ))