FIC: Impossible (19/30)
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), ( 9), (10), ( 11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18)
Please CLICK HERE to check out another drawing for chapter 18 of this fic, by Julipy once again. If anyone else wants to draw anything for it then just message me and we can discuss it. :)
Don't hate me for a certain moment within this part either please. :P
**
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight
To fight, to fight, to fight
30 Seconds To Mars, This is War**
19.
After Hermione and Ron had detailed in full what had happened to them since leaving Harry, and showed him the destroyed cup, Harry explained how he had learned where the diadem was. Heart pumping, Hermione walked with Harry and Ron back towards the Room of Requirement. On the way, Ron cheered up considerably, something that was down to Bellatrix’s absence, Hermione imagined. He was much more light-hearted than he had been all evening, and at one point, there was even a cheeky grin on his face. Unable to stop herself, Hermione smiled. She might not be in love with him, but she did find him completely and utterly adorable when he wasn’t irritating her.
“Why can’t you be like this all the time?” she said, amused despite the seriousness of the situation they were in.
“Like what?” Ron asked, puzzled.
“You know... easy-going. Laidback. I know that now isn’t the time but... well it makes a nice change.”
Ron didn’t reply to this immediately, but he did blush, pink staining his cheeks. He looked pleased that she had given him a compliment, and seemed to draw a little too much from it, as though there were an underlying inference behind her words. Hermione realised she should probably correct his assumption, but he looked so happy that she didn’t want to take it away from him. Despite everything, even considering Bellatrix, Ron was still her best friend whom she loved very much. He was a good person, and she only wished that she could be everything he needed and wanted.
He’ll be ok though, she vowed. Ron had Harry and his vast family to keep him safe and make him feel better, whereas Bellatrix had none of that. If Bellatrix had been given the childhood that Ron had then maybe she wouldn’t have turned out quite so crazy. Fair enough, she proclaimed to care very much for Narcissa and Draco, but they didn’t have the sort of relationships that Ron had with his family, where affection was provided tenfold.
“Do you really love Bellatrix more than you love me?” Ron asked gruffly, out of the blue. For once he sounded curious, and not angry like his usual hot-headed self.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” Hermione said, and she felt guilty the moment that Ron looked crestfallen. Trying to repair the damage she’d done by explaining what she meant, she added, “No, wait. It’s not as simple as given you a yes or no answer; it’s more complicated than that. I love you, but it feels different to the way I love Bellatrix.”
“So you love her more?” Ron pressed.
“It’s just different,” Hermione repeated. “It’s probably because of Semper Amor, I’d imagine, but I can’t control how I feel about her. For a while I tried to ignore it, before the connection was properly ignited and neither of us were aware of it. Now though, it’s impossible to resist her, as crazy as that sounds.”
“How do you know that we couldn’t have the same connection if we tried?” Ron suggested, and it sounded as though he was pleading with Hermione to consider it. “I know that we’ve never really acted on our feelings for each other and we’ve never tried to be together properly, or even kissed. Why don’t we just...”
“I don’t see how it’ll work,” Hermione said, cutting him off, but as gently as possible. “I’m sorry, Ron.”
She genuinely was. As harsh as it sounded, her life would have been so much easier if she felt about Ron the way she felt about Bellatrix. There was no danger of Ron ever hurting her, or turning on her, but with Bellatrix she could never be sure that they would last together. Even if they did both survive the war, there would be people judging them and holding a grudge against Bellatrix for her actions in the past. Moreover, they would think Hermione to be insane, or that she was being held under duress, forced to be with Bellatrix for some unknown, hidden reason.
Fleetingly, she wondered how she would feel if she did kiss him. Would it be awful, or would she be pleasantly surprised? It was wrong of her to debate such an action but she couldn’t help wondering; Ron had been a part of her life for so long, and this was the first time he had ever truly broached the subject of a relationship with her. If anything, an attempted kiss might help her to check that she wasn’t making a huge mistake. After all, the entire reason that Semper Amor had activated had been because of one kiss with Bellatrix. How did she know that she was making the right decision when all logic and sense stated that someone like Bellatrix could never change. Perhaps it was just Hermione, and she was destined to fall in love with anyone she kissed in that way, and Semper Amor didn’t even come into the equation. Or was that a stupid, irrational thing to think? Or wish for.
Hermione tried to concentrate on the conversations around her, with Ginny and Neville’s grandmother amongst others, but found that she couldn’t focus. It was such a bad time to suddenly be having doubts about Bellatrix considering that they might die at any moment during battle, but Ron had put doubts in her head that she couldn’t ignore. And then another horrifying thought occurred; what if she was unconsciously in love with Ron and just forcing herself to want Bellatrix for the sake of war? Rodolphus had already stated how important Bellatrix was to Voldemort, so what if Hermione had just been acting the way she had to force Bellatrix’s betrayal and weaken Voldemort? It sounded crazy, but everything about this situation was illogical and improbable. Hermione was used to thinking in terms of facts and figures; she had never been one for changes and luck like Harry.
“Are you ok?” she heard from behind.
She turned to find herself faced with Tonks. Bellatrix’s niece. “Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Really? You don’t look alright,” Tonks stated, looking concerned. They may not have been close friends, but when they were around each other, they got along well. Hermione had often found herself considering that if she had spent more time with Tonks, she would have come to think of her as an older sister of sorts. As it was, Tonk’s career as an Auror meant that aside from one summer in Grimmauld Place where they saw each other regularly, Hermione never got a chance to speak to Tonks other than the odd letter or two before the Horcrux hunt had began.
“I’m just worried about making the wrong decision,” Hermione said, a half-truth which was about all she could reveal surrounded by other people. Besides, she intended to state it was related to Voldemort if Tonks pushed for further information (it wasn’t really a lie, was it?) except her eyes inadvertently flickered over to where Ron stood, talking to Harry. At once Hermione wished she had kept herself cool and composed, but it was too late, and Tonks had noticed.
“You should tell him how you feel, Hermione. Otherwise it’ll be too late,” Tonks said kindly, entirely misunderstanding the situation.
Hermione shook her head. “It’s not like that. I don’t even know if I want to...” her voice drifted off. How to explain?
“Well,” Tonks said brightly, grinning at her now. “There is only one way to find out!”
I can’t, Hermione thought, and then in the next moment, she was considering how terrible it would be if the war ended and she suddenly felt as though she had made an awful mistake and that Ron was who she wanted. She faced him.
Hermione observed Ron’s pale skin (so like Bellatrix’s) and his freckles (so unlike Bellatrix’s). There were parts of them that were the same in that they both had mood swings, and then parts that were different in that they believed in different causes. Both pure-bloods, but both so entirely individual, and Hermione had no idea who the right person for her was. Her heart said Bellatrix, but her head told her that Ron was the safe and sensible choice.
Hermione forced herself to focus on the conversation, but wasn’t quite with it. It’s now or never.
Before she even knew what she was doing, Hermione launched herself at Ron whilst he was mid-speech about house-elves, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was briefly aware as her lips connected with Ron’s that he had done the unthinkable and considered the rights of house-elves when before tonight he had barely given them a second thought. For the past six years Ron had been the most selfish of the three of them, and the offhand comment said so passionately was enough to make her want to jump for joy.
The last time she had felt so exhilarated was the moment she realised she had truly gotten under Bellatrix’s skin, right after they had shared their first kiss. It was nothing compared to the actual feeling of the embrace and kissing itself, but the aftermath when Hermione felt like she had genuinely achieved something meant a great deal to her. She had been drumming into Ron’s head for years that house-elves deserved fairer treatment, but he had never seen their oppression from her point of view. Finally, it appeared that he understood.
Except this kiss didn’t feel quite right, because why was she even thinking about house-elves if she was trying to figure out if she had feelings for Ron? This was Ron she was kissing with tongues, and hearing Harry’s voice in the background, Hermione froze. As she broke apart from Ron, her cheeks reddened as she realised that she had her answer. It didn’t feel quite right to kiss Ron, because she wasn’t in love with him. As much as she wanted to be, she couldn’t force herself to feel something that wasn’t there. In the same way that Bellatrix had fought not to love her initially, she couldn’t fight to be in love with someone just because it would be easier.
Surveying Ron, she noted that he looked flustered too, but judging by his dilated pupils for an entirely different reason to her. No, she thought, angry at herself. I didn’t mean it like that! She wasn’t an idiot; there would have to be a time when she told Ron the truth this evening that they would never happen. It would be a tough conversation to have, however, and it wasn’t right for her to say anything for the moment. If they died, (and that was quite possible) then it would be cruel to tell Ron of her non-existent romantic feelings for him before that. It may even affect his confidence when duelling, and that was something that Hermione couldn’t be responsible for. It was best to let him think she was considering it, because she didn’t want to distract him from the most important task at hand; destroying Voldemort. Therefore, keeping her mouth shut Hermione looked away, and following Harry left the Room of Requirement, Ron trailing close behind, still slightly dazed.
“Where’s Bellatrix?” she asked the moment they had left. “She was supposed to meet us here.”
Ron looked startled at her words as though he had forgotten Bellatrix’s existence, but otherwise didn’t comment.
“Never mind that now,” Harry said dismissively, and Hermione was grateful for him ignoring what had just happened. “We need to get the last Horcrux.”
And then, everything was moving fast again, flashing and twirling before Hermione’s very eyes. They entered the Room of Requirement once more to root through all hidden objects, and Hermione was overwhelmed with the task ahead of them until Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy were in their way. Immediately she realised that he had Narcissa’s wand; what wand was Bellatrix using? She thought back to earlier on and realised she had been so distracted that she hadn’t taken proper note of what her wand looked like. Suddenly, there was fighting and Hermione watched as a flash of green just missed her. Crabbe had sent the killing curse in her direction, and terrified, she dived to the side.
There was more fighting, and then flames engulfed them. Hermione was vaguely aware of herself shouting something in terror, before Ron hauled her onto the back of a broomstick and they were flying through the air, beasts circling them, aiming to murder. They tried desperately to reach Crabbe through the flames, but although they managed to rescue Goyle and Malfoy, they couldn’t save all three. Hermione supposed that she shouldn’t really care considering what Crabbe had done, but it wasn’t in her nature to take satisfaction in someone’s death when that someone had probably been brought up to think the Slytherin way. Crabbe was an idiot, but that didn’t mean he deserved to burn in such a horrible circumstance.
In what felt like far too long, Hermione was on the floor outside next to Goyle and Ron. Her heart was still thudding hard, so much so that she barely took in the news that Crabbe had perished in the fire, and then the diadem was in front of her, a thick, gooey substance oozing from it. “It must have been Fiendfyre!” she groaned, and when faced with puzzled expressions, she explained that it was a cursed fire that had destroyed the Horcrux. They barely had time to debate this for when screams and shouts came closer, Hermione was doing all she could to battle Thicknesse, the man Bellatrix had fought against earlier.
There was a bang, and Hermione was thrown backwards. After lying still for a few seconds, Hermione was well aware that she had to move, that a sitting duck would be the first target. Dizzy, she stumbled to her feet through the smoke, and horrified, she saw Fred, unmoving, staring, dead. How? Why?
She cried aloud, and then curses were still flying through the air as she was pulled down, protected by Harry and Ron. No longer able to think straight, she watched spiders began to climb through the giant hole that was now in the building, and after watching Ron and Harry blast it backwards, they dragged Fred’s body out of the way of any Death Eaters that may pass. They didn’t want to give any of the Death Eaters a chance to violate Fred’s body in any way they saw fit, because when the time was right (if they survived) then they would have a chance to grieve in peace.
Before she knew it, Hermione was in her hazy world once more, somehow holding Ron back, but at the same time intrinsically knowing to tell Harry to look inside Voldemort and the very connection between them she used to fear. She functioned, but she didn’t know how when one of the Weasleys was dead. It felt as though she was in the middle of a film, except every time she expected to hear cut, someone else was injured or murdered. She couldn’t imagine how it felt to have someone you loved, a family member you had grown up with all your life perish before your eyes. Poor Ron.
There was much to do though, and as soon as Harry had called out Voldemort’s whereabouts, the Shrieking Shack, they gathered under the Invisibility Cloak to fight their way there. Hermione caught a fleeting glance of Draco after Ron punched him, and with a sharp pain in her chest she remembered Bellatrix and the fact that she hadn’t met them when she was supposed to. Ignoring the wrenching pain that had began to suffocate her heart at the thought of Bellatrix being dead before she had had a chance to prove to the world that she was changing, she carried on running, past spiders, giants, Death Eaters, Hogwartians, towards the Shrieking Shack... into the Shrieking Shack.
The flashing, grainy video began again, as she watched the horror unfold.
Voldemort.
Nagini.
Snape.
Snape dying.
Head rushing, thoughts blurring, Hermione called out Harry’s name. She thought she spoke, but it was all autopilot speech and nothing she said sunk in. Was this what it was to be in shock? Because she didn’t understand why everyone was on the way back into Hogwarts, and how time was running out. Before she could fully comprehend her surroundings, she was enveloped by her friends, by her makeshift family, as they gathered around Fred. Why was time going so fast? Why were there more dead people, like Lupin and... Tonks. No, no.
Hermione focused on her friend-family, and at once she was reminded her of her parents, the two people she loved so much she had erased their memories to keep them safe. The two people she had refused to allow herself to think about often, or talk about for fear of breaking down completely. It hurt so much that she could barely stand it, and slipping away from the crowd, she stumbled out of the Great Hall and down a corridor into an empty, half-blown apart classroom, where she fell to the floor and sobbed bitterly.
This isn’t Gryffindor behaviour, she told herself spitefully. Get up. Get up, don’t be weak!
“Are you injured?”
She heard the voice before she saw Bellatrix, and looking up from her spot, hunched against the wall, she saw the older witch standing in front of her, still wearing Rodolphus’ clothes from earlier. She looked tired, but strangely beautiful with the too big t-shirt and wild raven curls framing her face. There were several wounds that hadn’t been there when she had left Bellatrix, but thankfully nothing looked too severe.
“N-no. Just cuts and bruises,” Hermione said weakly, her heart fluttering at the sight of Bellatrix and reminding her exactly why kissing Ron as some sort of test of her feelings had been a ridiculous idea. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I saw you wandering through the Entrance Hall just now,” Bellatrix said, and she crouched down to sit opposite Hermione. “I couldn’t stay outside the Room of Requirement... Longbottom’s grandmother was hovering around, and I’m betting she wouldn’t hesitate to curse me rather than engaging in conversation.”
“You could have easily defended yourself,” Hermione suggested truthfully. “Tortured her if you wanted.”
“Yes,” Bellatrix agreed. “But I have promised to be on your side and I know that you’d probably have been annoyed with me for that.” She smirked. So not the time for humour, Bellatrix.
Hermione honestly couldn’t even bring herself to crack a smile. Nevertheless, she brushed at her tear-stained cheeks, not wanting Bellatrix to continue seeing her cry. It was clear from the previous occasion when she cried that the older witch did not handle such displays of emotion very well, and she wasn’t in the position emotionally or physically right now to deal with Bellatrix’s uncaring attitude. This wasn’t her being teary over something fixable, like a failed exam or hurtful words that were thrown at her. This was war. Blood, sweat and tears; one giant ball of misery. “I’m surprised you listened to me.”
Bellatrix shrugged. “Me too.”
“Well, thanks,” Hermione managed, because at the very least she was genuinely grateful for Bellatrix’s obedience. “But... situations change, Bellatrix. This is much bigger than I ever thought it would be. This is war. If you need to kill then you kill.”
Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Not for the sake of it,” Hermione clarified, trying to sound more like her old self in an attempt to make herself more composed and snap her out of her current state. “Just to defend yourself and the others. The greater good, I mean.”
“I’m not defending others!” Bellatrix scoffed. “Especially not your friend Weasley. Arse.”
“You defended Kingsley earlier,” Hermione said, pointedly ignoring her last comment. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to aid us, even if your only motivation is that it will benefit you when the war is over.” If we win, that is.
Bellatrix didn’t seem to be sure what to say to this, so she settled for resting against the wall next to Hermione, scooting closer. Hermione remained facing forwards, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bellatrix watching her, head tilted to the side and black curls hanging down. If she was an accomplished Legilimens, she would love to do nothing more than to break inside of Bellatrix’s head right now and discover what she was thinking. As it was, she could barely perform Occlumency to defend her own mind, or at this moment to block out the pain she felt at the deaths of people she loved.
“Why are you crying?” Bellatrix asked finally. Hermione wondered if she had sensed the pain she felt at present, whether through Legilimency or Semper Amor, or if she was just curious as to why she had discovered Hermione bawling her eyes out.
“Some people died,” Hermione said, reluctant to share any more information and provide their names. Saying such things would only bring home exactly who had been lost, and Hermione couldn’t afford to completely fall apart right now. Really, she shouldn’t even be taking this time to herself, and the only reason she did was so that she was still capable of functioning to a certain extent when the battle began once more. What was the point in grieving now, anyway? There was little to no chance of Bellatrix bothering to comfort her, because grief wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with.
“Who?” Bellatrix enquired.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione said, hoping that Bellatrix didn’t push for information.
She didn’t. Instead, they remained like that in silence for several minutes as Hermione respectfully mourned the losses she had suffered and Bellatrix most likely pondered her thoughts or probed Hermione’s mind delicately now that her defences were down. Hermione didn’t particularly care though, for there were other matters of much greater concern to her right now. All she wanted was for Voldemort to die and for the wizarding world to begin rebuilding itself free from his reign. For too long he had dictated what people should and shouldn’t believe, what they could and couldn’t do and terrorising innocents. It was time for things to change. Forever.
Eventually, Bellatrix cleared her throat and said assuredly, “You’ll be ok. I shall defend you.”
Hermione turned her head at this remark, smiling through her sadness. “My hero,” she whispered, only half-joking.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Twisting herself around so that she faced Bellatrix once more, Hermione shakily lifted her hand, placing it against Bellatrix’s cheekbone. She realised now that she was so close to Bellatrix how much more gaunt the older woman looked, as though she had spent the last few weeks torturing herself internally over the decision she had made to relinquish her loyalty to Voldemort and resulting in the consequences showing physically. When Bellatrix didn’t pull away, Hermione lifted her head up, and placed a soft kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth, the flaming love she felt for the raven haired witch igniting deep in her belly, and encouraging her to throw a leg over Bellatrix, so that now she rocked back and forth in her lap. This is what kissing should feel like. She badly wanted to rip the cloak and black t-shirt from Bellatrix and explore her body, the desire stronger than ever before, but she knew they couldn’t, that now was not the time...
Reluctantly, she pulled backwards, though she still remained seated on Bellatrix. “You’ve given up everything you’ve ever stood for to fight for the cause I believe in, even though you hate pretty much everyone I love. You only agreed to do it if I would help your sister and nephew too, and even though you still feel weird about me because I’m not a pure-blood, you’re willing to risk your life to be with me,” Hermione said softly, holding Bellatrix’s hands in her own. “That makes you a hero to me.”
“Yes, well,” Bellatrix said, averting her eyes and avoiding the topic of conversation. “We should decide what to do now.”
Although Hermione had expected such a reaction even after speaking so tenderly to Bellatrix, it still hurt that her words were so easily discounted. Forcing a small smile onto her face, she let go of Bellatrix and attempted to climb off her lap so that they could talk more seriously without being distracted by one another. However, she was prevented from moving by Bellatrix, who now held onto her waist, keeping her in place so that they wouldn’t be parted.
“Hermione...” Bellatrix said, her voice sounding unsure, and her expression seeming even more uncomfortable. “Merlin, I never thought I’d say this but... you are... you are my pretty little Muggle-born.”
In that instance, Hermione was satisfied, for that was all she needed to hear. She would probably never get to hear everything she needed from Bellatrix, but her awkward admission meant the world to Hermione, simply because of the immense effort she had gone to forcing herself to say it. And for the first time, she had not called Hermione a Mudblood, but a Muggle-born. She might not be proclaiming to love all Muggle-borns, but for the moment an admission such as what she had just declared was something Hermione would accept that willingly.
“Thank you,” she said softly, staring at Bellatrix and wishing she would meet her eyes. It was obvious that she felt out of her depth in such a situation, especially considering the current events, but in a strange sort of way, that made it all the more special.
“I have to find Narcissa,” Bellatrix said suddenly. “I haven’t seen her or Draco yet.”
“I’ve seen Draco,” Hermione said, feel the anger surge through her veins at the memory of him attempting to prevent them from gaining the Horcrux.
Her fury must have shown on her face, as Bellatrix enquired, “Is he doing something he shouldn’t be?”
“From what I could tell he’s claiming to be on the side of the Death Eaters but not doing a whole lot to prove it. He tried to attack myself, Harry and Ron in the Room of Requirement and then Vincent Crabbe nearly got us killed with Fiendfyre,...but after we dragged Draco out of the flames with Goyle... Crabbe died... and they left us alone,” Hermione summed up disjointedly, unaware if she even made sense.
“Fiendfyre?” Bellatrix said, sounding perplexed. “Why would he use Fiendfyre in an enclosed space? The Dark Lord is the only person I know who has ever dared...” her voice trailed off at the awkward mention of Voldemort.
“Crabbe is an idiot,” Hermione said, glossing over the moment.
As far as she was concerned, Bellatrix may claim to be loyal to her, but there was no telling if she would change her mind when faced with Voldemort. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that Voldemort would be enraged by the betrayal of someone he considered to be one of his most faithful. Even if he was angry with Bellatrix at the moment and blamed her for Harry, Ron and Hermione’s escape from Malfoy Manor and stealing the Horcrux from his vault, he was probably still under the assumption that she would fight for him. That was, unless he had somehow found out about them, whether through the Horcrux or by another method, like Rodolphus changing his mind, confessing all and revealing his disguise.
Bellatrix stood and Hermione mirrored her actions. “If someone sees you then they are going to assume you are fighting for Voldemort,” she explained to Bellatrix. “They may not listen, even if I defend you. And if the Death Eaters see you fighting against them then they will also turn on you. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? It’s twice as dangerous for you to be out there as it is me.”
Despite it being an entirely inappropriate reaction considering the circumstances, Bellatrix grinned, showing off the perfectly white teeth that Hermione was still amazed by. “I can look after myself as well as looking after you. Come on.”
Not arguing with this, realising it would be a futile and ineffectual attempt, Hermione followed Bellatrix out of the classroom. They were just about to enter the Entrance Hall when they were abruptly faced with Neville. He looked back and forth between Bellatrix and Hermione, who had come to a stop and had yet to react, when he appeared to make a decision. Anticipating this, Hermione shouted, “Protego!” and a shield appeared as a wall, separating herself and Bellatrix from Neville.
“What... Hermione what are you doing?!” Neville yelled, though he didn’t attempt to curse, hex or jinx Bellatrix, aware that it would rebound on him.
“Let me explain, Neville,” Hermione said hurriedly. “She’s on our side.”
“On our side?” Neville exclaimed. “Hermione, you’re under the Imperius Curse, you don’t know what you’re-”
“No, Neville!” Hermione interrupted. “Please, listen. There isn’t much time. Bellatrix is fighting for us. If you don’t believe me then speak to Kingsley, he’ll tell you that Bellatrix defended him earlier. Right?” she said, looking towards Bellatrix for confirmation.
Bellatrix gave a jerk of her head to indicate yes, but she continued to stare at Neville, stony-faced. It wasn’t helping the situation one little bit, and Hermione was worried that things were going to get out of hand and everything would escalate beyond her control.
“She tortured my parents,” Neville snarled. “I don’t care even if she is telling the truth; she doesn’t deserve my forgiveness when she isn’t even sorry!”
Bellatrix, who had remained silent up until this moment, chose this moment to speak. “I don’t like you, Longbottom. I think you’re an idiot, a fool, and a pathetic wizard. But I assure you that I did not torture your parents. I took the credit because living without my Lord seemed unbearable, and I wanted to prove my faithfulness to him by suffering in Azkaban.”
“You’re a liar!” Neville shouted, and he looked more enraged than Hermione had ever seen him look before. “My grandmother told me how you laughed when you were arrested and how you stood up at the hearing and admitted it!”
“I have never admitted to the torture!” Bellatrix shrieked, and several red sparks flew from her wand, a sign that she was beginning to lose control. “Yes, I proclaimed my devotion to the Lord, and yes, admittedly I laughed when they took me, but I did not put your parents into their current miserable state.”
“Why should I believe you?” Neville spat.
“You should believe me,” Hermione interjected. “Because she admitted it to me months ago whilst we were still enemies and had no reason for dishonesty. Don’t you think... don’t you think that at such a crucial point in the war it is not the time for Bellatrix to be pretending to side with us?”
“It’s all just a game to her,” Neville said disgustedly. “She thinks it’s fun.”
Hermione shot Bellatrix a warning look before she agreed with Neville and made the situation worse. Yes, she appeared to be unfazed by the situation and the sadistic parts of her took pleasure in fighting, duelling, torturing, but damn it, Hermione loved her. And for some insane reason Bellatrix apparently felt the same way, because even if she hadn’t voiced her feelings, her actions dictated that she did. After all, actions speak louder than words, don’t they? Hermione told herself.
“She has proved herself tonight, and she could help us against You-Know-Who,” Hermione persisted. “She knows him better than we do in so many ways. Let us pass, please.” They could easily subdue Neville between them if they wanted to, but Hermione didn’t want it to come to that. It was better if they could convince him to at least leave Bellatrix alone for the moment.
“Why should I?” Neville asked.
“Because I have the memory of who did torture your parents at home,” Bellatrix offered as an incentive.
Hermione’s heart thudded at this latest revelation. Bellatrix was offering Neville something that upon first hearing it sounded kind of sick; the destruction of his parent’s memories, of their lives as they once knew them to be. After a few seconds however, Hermione began to see the appeal. Neville would catch a glimpse of the people his parent’s once were, see them as functioning, intelligent beings rather than the empty shells they had become. It would be a form of closure that he had never even come close to receiving before. The Longbottoms’ last true memory. The reality of those who had brought Neville into this world, all there for the taking in a way that had never been available before.
“How do you have the memory if you didn’t do it?” Neville asked suspiciously, picking up on the connotations behind what Bellatrix had told him.
“It isn’t my memory, it’s Rodolphus’s memory,” Bellatrix explained. “The others accused did do it. I can’t explain now, but the memory is in the Pensieve I have at Black Manor. I’m sure you won’t enjoy seeing it, but your parents do say and do some things that you may find... interesting.”
“And you’re going to show me it?” Neville asked incredulously, but there was a flicker in his eyes that told Hermione his curiosity had been piqued. “Just like that?”
“Well, provided we don’t die this evening,” Bellatrix replied dryly. “And on the condition that you allow us to pass, and that should you see another me wearing a black dress, running around cursing everyone, then you make a special effort to curse it.”
Neville looked confused. “What?”
“What Bellatrix is cleverly trying to say,” Hermione said, shooting Bellatrix an exasperated look. “Is that Rodolphus has taken Polyjuice potion to become her and is now pretending to be her in Battle. It’s a long story but the upshot is he saw Bellatrix defending Kingsley and realised she has betrayed Voldemort. I don’t have time to explain now, but just take it as granted that I am telling you the truth.”
A tiny amount of comprehension dawned on Neville’s face (though he still looked slightly confused, which was entirely understandable) and he nodded. Seeing this and knowing intuitively that he would no longer attempt to attack Bellatrix, Hermione removed the shield between them, and stepped forward with Bellatrix. “Thank you, Neville.”
“I’m doing this for my parents,” he said fiercely. “Because defeating the cause that resulted in their death matters more to me than revenge.”
Hermione squeezed Bellatrix’s arm as a warning to her not to say anything sarcastic. They didn’t have time for it was rapidly running out, and they still had so much left to do. They needed to find Narcissa and Draco, kill Nagini, and then finally, face Voldemort himself. Although Bellatrix could prove invaluable in killing Nagini, especially with her skills, Hermione didn’t want her to attempt it for two very different reasons. One, she would have to get too near to Voldemort which in itself was practically a death wish. Two, Hermione would have to give Bellatrix a reason the great snake needed to die, and Bellatrix knowing about the Horcruxes at this stage was something that Hermione still wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Semper Amor or life with an immortal Lord?
And then, Hermione was distracted by Voldemort’s voice announcing that Harry was dead.
No, no. Not Harry. Not Harry, how can he be dead? We need him. NO NO NO.
There were so many people following Voldemort’s orders to leave the castle and see Harry’s body that Hermione and Bellatrix managed to slip unnoticed between them, Bellatrix with the hood of her cloak up so as to hide her face and reduce the risk of being spotted. As they left the warmth of the castle and felt the chilly air wash over them, Hermione heard a scream, a laugh, and then she spotted Harry’s body herself. She thought she may have screamed before she slumped, held up only by Bellatrix.
“You need to focus, little babe,” Bellatrix said urgently, the most rational she had been yet. “I need you to focus, because this is about us and the only way we can be together. Remember Semper Amor. Get up.”
She didn’t really remember the next few minutes; all Hermione was aware of was Bellatrix whispering urgently to her, telling her to get up before she drew attention to them. Eventually she did so shakily, the only reason being that she had to be strong now that it was only her and Ron who knew the secret that hid within Nagini, and it would be up to them to destroy the last remaining Horcrux before they had to defeat Voldemort himself.
Except then everything was moving faster and faster, and someone shouted that Harry’s body was gone and Neville who was tormented to prove a point to the rest of the crowd was pulling Gryffindor’s sword out of the hat. He sliced off Nagini’s head in one vicious swoop, the snake split apart, crashing to the ground and screeching no more. There was a scream, Voldemort’s, and the most evil wizard of all time was now gunning for Neville, aiming spells at him that were blocked by a Shield Charm someone had cast, until there was a flash of green, whizzing through the air towards him. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Hermione as she watched, horrified, until Bellatrix flicked her wand and the light disappeared into the Sorting Hat that had jumped up from the ground to protect Neville, the light draining into it, having no effect.
Voldemort had swung around to see who had defended Neville, and in that time Bellatrix had disappeared behind the giant, Grawp, pulling Hermione with her, back towards Neville. As Voldemort searched the crowd for the culprit, still fixated on who had dared to prevent his curse, Bellatrix seized Neville by the shoulders and pulled him next to them behind the giant’s leg, where Hermione hoped they would be safe for a few seconds, at least until the giant moved again.
“You... you saved my life?!” Neville yelled over the Battle’s noise, the hatred in his eyes that had previously been present when he gazed at Bellatrix now replaced with confusion as he questioned her.
“Yes, idiot. And now that you’ve killed Nagini he’s going to want vengeance; that snake is the only thing the Dark Lord cares about. Move,” she snarled, and doing as he was bidden, he ran after her, Hermione following close behind.
The final hour has truly begun, Hermione thought. This is war.
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 20. ))
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), ( 9), (10), ( 11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18)
Please CLICK HERE to check out another drawing for chapter 18 of this fic, by Julipy once again. If anyone else wants to draw anything for it then just message me and we can discuss it. :)
Don't hate me for a certain moment within this part either please. :P
**
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight
To fight, to fight, to fight
30 Seconds To Mars, This is War**
19.
After Hermione and Ron had detailed in full what had happened to them since leaving Harry, and showed him the destroyed cup, Harry explained how he had learned where the diadem was. Heart pumping, Hermione walked with Harry and Ron back towards the Room of Requirement. On the way, Ron cheered up considerably, something that was down to Bellatrix’s absence, Hermione imagined. He was much more light-hearted than he had been all evening, and at one point, there was even a cheeky grin on his face. Unable to stop herself, Hermione smiled. She might not be in love with him, but she did find him completely and utterly adorable when he wasn’t irritating her.
“Why can’t you be like this all the time?” she said, amused despite the seriousness of the situation they were in.
“Like what?” Ron asked, puzzled.
“You know... easy-going. Laidback. I know that now isn’t the time but... well it makes a nice change.”
Ron didn’t reply to this immediately, but he did blush, pink staining his cheeks. He looked pleased that she had given him a compliment, and seemed to draw a little too much from it, as though there were an underlying inference behind her words. Hermione realised she should probably correct his assumption, but he looked so happy that she didn’t want to take it away from him. Despite everything, even considering Bellatrix, Ron was still her best friend whom she loved very much. He was a good person, and she only wished that she could be everything he needed and wanted.
He’ll be ok though, she vowed. Ron had Harry and his vast family to keep him safe and make him feel better, whereas Bellatrix had none of that. If Bellatrix had been given the childhood that Ron had then maybe she wouldn’t have turned out quite so crazy. Fair enough, she proclaimed to care very much for Narcissa and Draco, but they didn’t have the sort of relationships that Ron had with his family, where affection was provided tenfold.
“Do you really love Bellatrix more than you love me?” Ron asked gruffly, out of the blue. For once he sounded curious, and not angry like his usual hot-headed self.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” Hermione said, and she felt guilty the moment that Ron looked crestfallen. Trying to repair the damage she’d done by explaining what she meant, she added, “No, wait. It’s not as simple as given you a yes or no answer; it’s more complicated than that. I love you, but it feels different to the way I love Bellatrix.”
“So you love her more?” Ron pressed.
“It’s just different,” Hermione repeated. “It’s probably because of Semper Amor, I’d imagine, but I can’t control how I feel about her. For a while I tried to ignore it, before the connection was properly ignited and neither of us were aware of it. Now though, it’s impossible to resist her, as crazy as that sounds.”
“How do you know that we couldn’t have the same connection if we tried?” Ron suggested, and it sounded as though he was pleading with Hermione to consider it. “I know that we’ve never really acted on our feelings for each other and we’ve never tried to be together properly, or even kissed. Why don’t we just...”
“I don’t see how it’ll work,” Hermione said, cutting him off, but as gently as possible. “I’m sorry, Ron.”
She genuinely was. As harsh as it sounded, her life would have been so much easier if she felt about Ron the way she felt about Bellatrix. There was no danger of Ron ever hurting her, or turning on her, but with Bellatrix she could never be sure that they would last together. Even if they did both survive the war, there would be people judging them and holding a grudge against Bellatrix for her actions in the past. Moreover, they would think Hermione to be insane, or that she was being held under duress, forced to be with Bellatrix for some unknown, hidden reason.
Fleetingly, she wondered how she would feel if she did kiss him. Would it be awful, or would she be pleasantly surprised? It was wrong of her to debate such an action but she couldn’t help wondering; Ron had been a part of her life for so long, and this was the first time he had ever truly broached the subject of a relationship with her. If anything, an attempted kiss might help her to check that she wasn’t making a huge mistake. After all, the entire reason that Semper Amor had activated had been because of one kiss with Bellatrix. How did she know that she was making the right decision when all logic and sense stated that someone like Bellatrix could never change. Perhaps it was just Hermione, and she was destined to fall in love with anyone she kissed in that way, and Semper Amor didn’t even come into the equation. Or was that a stupid, irrational thing to think? Or wish for.
Hermione tried to concentrate on the conversations around her, with Ginny and Neville’s grandmother amongst others, but found that she couldn’t focus. It was such a bad time to suddenly be having doubts about Bellatrix considering that they might die at any moment during battle, but Ron had put doubts in her head that she couldn’t ignore. And then another horrifying thought occurred; what if she was unconsciously in love with Ron and just forcing herself to want Bellatrix for the sake of war? Rodolphus had already stated how important Bellatrix was to Voldemort, so what if Hermione had just been acting the way she had to force Bellatrix’s betrayal and weaken Voldemort? It sounded crazy, but everything about this situation was illogical and improbable. Hermione was used to thinking in terms of facts and figures; she had never been one for changes and luck like Harry.
“Are you ok?” she heard from behind.
She turned to find herself faced with Tonks. Bellatrix’s niece. “Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Really? You don’t look alright,” Tonks stated, looking concerned. They may not have been close friends, but when they were around each other, they got along well. Hermione had often found herself considering that if she had spent more time with Tonks, she would have come to think of her as an older sister of sorts. As it was, Tonk’s career as an Auror meant that aside from one summer in Grimmauld Place where they saw each other regularly, Hermione never got a chance to speak to Tonks other than the odd letter or two before the Horcrux hunt had began.
“I’m just worried about making the wrong decision,” Hermione said, a half-truth which was about all she could reveal surrounded by other people. Besides, she intended to state it was related to Voldemort if Tonks pushed for further information (it wasn’t really a lie, was it?) except her eyes inadvertently flickered over to where Ron stood, talking to Harry. At once Hermione wished she had kept herself cool and composed, but it was too late, and Tonks had noticed.
“You should tell him how you feel, Hermione. Otherwise it’ll be too late,” Tonks said kindly, entirely misunderstanding the situation.
Hermione shook her head. “It’s not like that. I don’t even know if I want to...” her voice drifted off. How to explain?
“Well,” Tonks said brightly, grinning at her now. “There is only one way to find out!”
I can’t, Hermione thought, and then in the next moment, she was considering how terrible it would be if the war ended and she suddenly felt as though she had made an awful mistake and that Ron was who she wanted. She faced him.
Hermione observed Ron’s pale skin (so like Bellatrix’s) and his freckles (so unlike Bellatrix’s). There were parts of them that were the same in that they both had mood swings, and then parts that were different in that they believed in different causes. Both pure-bloods, but both so entirely individual, and Hermione had no idea who the right person for her was. Her heart said Bellatrix, but her head told her that Ron was the safe and sensible choice.
Hermione forced herself to focus on the conversation, but wasn’t quite with it. It’s now or never.
Before she even knew what she was doing, Hermione launched herself at Ron whilst he was mid-speech about house-elves, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was briefly aware as her lips connected with Ron’s that he had done the unthinkable and considered the rights of house-elves when before tonight he had barely given them a second thought. For the past six years Ron had been the most selfish of the three of them, and the offhand comment said so passionately was enough to make her want to jump for joy.
The last time she had felt so exhilarated was the moment she realised she had truly gotten under Bellatrix’s skin, right after they had shared their first kiss. It was nothing compared to the actual feeling of the embrace and kissing itself, but the aftermath when Hermione felt like she had genuinely achieved something meant a great deal to her. She had been drumming into Ron’s head for years that house-elves deserved fairer treatment, but he had never seen their oppression from her point of view. Finally, it appeared that he understood.
Except this kiss didn’t feel quite right, because why was she even thinking about house-elves if she was trying to figure out if she had feelings for Ron? This was Ron she was kissing with tongues, and hearing Harry’s voice in the background, Hermione froze. As she broke apart from Ron, her cheeks reddened as she realised that she had her answer. It didn’t feel quite right to kiss Ron, because she wasn’t in love with him. As much as she wanted to be, she couldn’t force herself to feel something that wasn’t there. In the same way that Bellatrix had fought not to love her initially, she couldn’t fight to be in love with someone just because it would be easier.
Surveying Ron, she noted that he looked flustered too, but judging by his dilated pupils for an entirely different reason to her. No, she thought, angry at herself. I didn’t mean it like that! She wasn’t an idiot; there would have to be a time when she told Ron the truth this evening that they would never happen. It would be a tough conversation to have, however, and it wasn’t right for her to say anything for the moment. If they died, (and that was quite possible) then it would be cruel to tell Ron of her non-existent romantic feelings for him before that. It may even affect his confidence when duelling, and that was something that Hermione couldn’t be responsible for. It was best to let him think she was considering it, because she didn’t want to distract him from the most important task at hand; destroying Voldemort. Therefore, keeping her mouth shut Hermione looked away, and following Harry left the Room of Requirement, Ron trailing close behind, still slightly dazed.
“Where’s Bellatrix?” she asked the moment they had left. “She was supposed to meet us here.”
Ron looked startled at her words as though he had forgotten Bellatrix’s existence, but otherwise didn’t comment.
“Never mind that now,” Harry said dismissively, and Hermione was grateful for him ignoring what had just happened. “We need to get the last Horcrux.”
And then, everything was moving fast again, flashing and twirling before Hermione’s very eyes. They entered the Room of Requirement once more to root through all hidden objects, and Hermione was overwhelmed with the task ahead of them until Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy were in their way. Immediately she realised that he had Narcissa’s wand; what wand was Bellatrix using? She thought back to earlier on and realised she had been so distracted that she hadn’t taken proper note of what her wand looked like. Suddenly, there was fighting and Hermione watched as a flash of green just missed her. Crabbe had sent the killing curse in her direction, and terrified, she dived to the side.
There was more fighting, and then flames engulfed them. Hermione was vaguely aware of herself shouting something in terror, before Ron hauled her onto the back of a broomstick and they were flying through the air, beasts circling them, aiming to murder. They tried desperately to reach Crabbe through the flames, but although they managed to rescue Goyle and Malfoy, they couldn’t save all three. Hermione supposed that she shouldn’t really care considering what Crabbe had done, but it wasn’t in her nature to take satisfaction in someone’s death when that someone had probably been brought up to think the Slytherin way. Crabbe was an idiot, but that didn’t mean he deserved to burn in such a horrible circumstance.
In what felt like far too long, Hermione was on the floor outside next to Goyle and Ron. Her heart was still thudding hard, so much so that she barely took in the news that Crabbe had perished in the fire, and then the diadem was in front of her, a thick, gooey substance oozing from it. “It must have been Fiendfyre!” she groaned, and when faced with puzzled expressions, she explained that it was a cursed fire that had destroyed the Horcrux. They barely had time to debate this for when screams and shouts came closer, Hermione was doing all she could to battle Thicknesse, the man Bellatrix had fought against earlier.
There was a bang, and Hermione was thrown backwards. After lying still for a few seconds, Hermione was well aware that she had to move, that a sitting duck would be the first target. Dizzy, she stumbled to her feet through the smoke, and horrified, she saw Fred, unmoving, staring, dead. How? Why?
She cried aloud, and then curses were still flying through the air as she was pulled down, protected by Harry and Ron. No longer able to think straight, she watched spiders began to climb through the giant hole that was now in the building, and after watching Ron and Harry blast it backwards, they dragged Fred’s body out of the way of any Death Eaters that may pass. They didn’t want to give any of the Death Eaters a chance to violate Fred’s body in any way they saw fit, because when the time was right (if they survived) then they would have a chance to grieve in peace.
Before she knew it, Hermione was in her hazy world once more, somehow holding Ron back, but at the same time intrinsically knowing to tell Harry to look inside Voldemort and the very connection between them she used to fear. She functioned, but she didn’t know how when one of the Weasleys was dead. It felt as though she was in the middle of a film, except every time she expected to hear cut, someone else was injured or murdered. She couldn’t imagine how it felt to have someone you loved, a family member you had grown up with all your life perish before your eyes. Poor Ron.
There was much to do though, and as soon as Harry had called out Voldemort’s whereabouts, the Shrieking Shack, they gathered under the Invisibility Cloak to fight their way there. Hermione caught a fleeting glance of Draco after Ron punched him, and with a sharp pain in her chest she remembered Bellatrix and the fact that she hadn’t met them when she was supposed to. Ignoring the wrenching pain that had began to suffocate her heart at the thought of Bellatrix being dead before she had had a chance to prove to the world that she was changing, she carried on running, past spiders, giants, Death Eaters, Hogwartians, towards the Shrieking Shack... into the Shrieking Shack.
The flashing, grainy video began again, as she watched the horror unfold.
Voldemort.
Nagini.
Snape.
Snape dying.
Head rushing, thoughts blurring, Hermione called out Harry’s name. She thought she spoke, but it was all autopilot speech and nothing she said sunk in. Was this what it was to be in shock? Because she didn’t understand why everyone was on the way back into Hogwarts, and how time was running out. Before she could fully comprehend her surroundings, she was enveloped by her friends, by her makeshift family, as they gathered around Fred. Why was time going so fast? Why were there more dead people, like Lupin and... Tonks. No, no.
Hermione focused on her friend-family, and at once she was reminded her of her parents, the two people she loved so much she had erased their memories to keep them safe. The two people she had refused to allow herself to think about often, or talk about for fear of breaking down completely. It hurt so much that she could barely stand it, and slipping away from the crowd, she stumbled out of the Great Hall and down a corridor into an empty, half-blown apart classroom, where she fell to the floor and sobbed bitterly.
This isn’t Gryffindor behaviour, she told herself spitefully. Get up. Get up, don’t be weak!
“Are you injured?”
She heard the voice before she saw Bellatrix, and looking up from her spot, hunched against the wall, she saw the older witch standing in front of her, still wearing Rodolphus’ clothes from earlier. She looked tired, but strangely beautiful with the too big t-shirt and wild raven curls framing her face. There were several wounds that hadn’t been there when she had left Bellatrix, but thankfully nothing looked too severe.
“N-no. Just cuts and bruises,” Hermione said weakly, her heart fluttering at the sight of Bellatrix and reminding her exactly why kissing Ron as some sort of test of her feelings had been a ridiculous idea. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I saw you wandering through the Entrance Hall just now,” Bellatrix said, and she crouched down to sit opposite Hermione. “I couldn’t stay outside the Room of Requirement... Longbottom’s grandmother was hovering around, and I’m betting she wouldn’t hesitate to curse me rather than engaging in conversation.”
“You could have easily defended yourself,” Hermione suggested truthfully. “Tortured her if you wanted.”
“Yes,” Bellatrix agreed. “But I have promised to be on your side and I know that you’d probably have been annoyed with me for that.” She smirked. So not the time for humour, Bellatrix.
Hermione honestly couldn’t even bring herself to crack a smile. Nevertheless, she brushed at her tear-stained cheeks, not wanting Bellatrix to continue seeing her cry. It was clear from the previous occasion when she cried that the older witch did not handle such displays of emotion very well, and she wasn’t in the position emotionally or physically right now to deal with Bellatrix’s uncaring attitude. This wasn’t her being teary over something fixable, like a failed exam or hurtful words that were thrown at her. This was war. Blood, sweat and tears; one giant ball of misery. “I’m surprised you listened to me.”
Bellatrix shrugged. “Me too.”
“Well, thanks,” Hermione managed, because at the very least she was genuinely grateful for Bellatrix’s obedience. “But... situations change, Bellatrix. This is much bigger than I ever thought it would be. This is war. If you need to kill then you kill.”
Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Not for the sake of it,” Hermione clarified, trying to sound more like her old self in an attempt to make herself more composed and snap her out of her current state. “Just to defend yourself and the others. The greater good, I mean.”
“I’m not defending others!” Bellatrix scoffed. “Especially not your friend Weasley. Arse.”
“You defended Kingsley earlier,” Hermione said, pointedly ignoring her last comment. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to aid us, even if your only motivation is that it will benefit you when the war is over.” If we win, that is.
Bellatrix didn’t seem to be sure what to say to this, so she settled for resting against the wall next to Hermione, scooting closer. Hermione remained facing forwards, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bellatrix watching her, head tilted to the side and black curls hanging down. If she was an accomplished Legilimens, she would love to do nothing more than to break inside of Bellatrix’s head right now and discover what she was thinking. As it was, she could barely perform Occlumency to defend her own mind, or at this moment to block out the pain she felt at the deaths of people she loved.
“Why are you crying?” Bellatrix asked finally. Hermione wondered if she had sensed the pain she felt at present, whether through Legilimency or Semper Amor, or if she was just curious as to why she had discovered Hermione bawling her eyes out.
“Some people died,” Hermione said, reluctant to share any more information and provide their names. Saying such things would only bring home exactly who had been lost, and Hermione couldn’t afford to completely fall apart right now. Really, she shouldn’t even be taking this time to herself, and the only reason she did was so that she was still capable of functioning to a certain extent when the battle began once more. What was the point in grieving now, anyway? There was little to no chance of Bellatrix bothering to comfort her, because grief wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with.
“Who?” Bellatrix enquired.
“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione said, hoping that Bellatrix didn’t push for information.
She didn’t. Instead, they remained like that in silence for several minutes as Hermione respectfully mourned the losses she had suffered and Bellatrix most likely pondered her thoughts or probed Hermione’s mind delicately now that her defences were down. Hermione didn’t particularly care though, for there were other matters of much greater concern to her right now. All she wanted was for Voldemort to die and for the wizarding world to begin rebuilding itself free from his reign. For too long he had dictated what people should and shouldn’t believe, what they could and couldn’t do and terrorising innocents. It was time for things to change. Forever.
Eventually, Bellatrix cleared her throat and said assuredly, “You’ll be ok. I shall defend you.”
Hermione turned her head at this remark, smiling through her sadness. “My hero,” she whispered, only half-joking.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Twisting herself around so that she faced Bellatrix once more, Hermione shakily lifted her hand, placing it against Bellatrix’s cheekbone. She realised now that she was so close to Bellatrix how much more gaunt the older woman looked, as though she had spent the last few weeks torturing herself internally over the decision she had made to relinquish her loyalty to Voldemort and resulting in the consequences showing physically. When Bellatrix didn’t pull away, Hermione lifted her head up, and placed a soft kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth, the flaming love she felt for the raven haired witch igniting deep in her belly, and encouraging her to throw a leg over Bellatrix, so that now she rocked back and forth in her lap. This is what kissing should feel like. She badly wanted to rip the cloak and black t-shirt from Bellatrix and explore her body, the desire stronger than ever before, but she knew they couldn’t, that now was not the time...
Reluctantly, she pulled backwards, though she still remained seated on Bellatrix. “You’ve given up everything you’ve ever stood for to fight for the cause I believe in, even though you hate pretty much everyone I love. You only agreed to do it if I would help your sister and nephew too, and even though you still feel weird about me because I’m not a pure-blood, you’re willing to risk your life to be with me,” Hermione said softly, holding Bellatrix’s hands in her own. “That makes you a hero to me.”
“Yes, well,” Bellatrix said, averting her eyes and avoiding the topic of conversation. “We should decide what to do now.”
Although Hermione had expected such a reaction even after speaking so tenderly to Bellatrix, it still hurt that her words were so easily discounted. Forcing a small smile onto her face, she let go of Bellatrix and attempted to climb off her lap so that they could talk more seriously without being distracted by one another. However, she was prevented from moving by Bellatrix, who now held onto her waist, keeping her in place so that they wouldn’t be parted.
“Hermione...” Bellatrix said, her voice sounding unsure, and her expression seeming even more uncomfortable. “Merlin, I never thought I’d say this but... you are... you are my pretty little Muggle-born.”
In that instance, Hermione was satisfied, for that was all she needed to hear. She would probably never get to hear everything she needed from Bellatrix, but her awkward admission meant the world to Hermione, simply because of the immense effort she had gone to forcing herself to say it. And for the first time, she had not called Hermione a Mudblood, but a Muggle-born. She might not be proclaiming to love all Muggle-borns, but for the moment an admission such as what she had just declared was something Hermione would accept that willingly.
“Thank you,” she said softly, staring at Bellatrix and wishing she would meet her eyes. It was obvious that she felt out of her depth in such a situation, especially considering the current events, but in a strange sort of way, that made it all the more special.
“I have to find Narcissa,” Bellatrix said suddenly. “I haven’t seen her or Draco yet.”
“I’ve seen Draco,” Hermione said, feel the anger surge through her veins at the memory of him attempting to prevent them from gaining the Horcrux.
Her fury must have shown on her face, as Bellatrix enquired, “Is he doing something he shouldn’t be?”
“From what I could tell he’s claiming to be on the side of the Death Eaters but not doing a whole lot to prove it. He tried to attack myself, Harry and Ron in the Room of Requirement and then Vincent Crabbe nearly got us killed with Fiendfyre,...but after we dragged Draco out of the flames with Goyle... Crabbe died... and they left us alone,” Hermione summed up disjointedly, unaware if she even made sense.
“Fiendfyre?” Bellatrix said, sounding perplexed. “Why would he use Fiendfyre in an enclosed space? The Dark Lord is the only person I know who has ever dared...” her voice trailed off at the awkward mention of Voldemort.
“Crabbe is an idiot,” Hermione said, glossing over the moment.
As far as she was concerned, Bellatrix may claim to be loyal to her, but there was no telling if she would change her mind when faced with Voldemort. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that Voldemort would be enraged by the betrayal of someone he considered to be one of his most faithful. Even if he was angry with Bellatrix at the moment and blamed her for Harry, Ron and Hermione’s escape from Malfoy Manor and stealing the Horcrux from his vault, he was probably still under the assumption that she would fight for him. That was, unless he had somehow found out about them, whether through the Horcrux or by another method, like Rodolphus changing his mind, confessing all and revealing his disguise.
Bellatrix stood and Hermione mirrored her actions. “If someone sees you then they are going to assume you are fighting for Voldemort,” she explained to Bellatrix. “They may not listen, even if I defend you. And if the Death Eaters see you fighting against them then they will also turn on you. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? It’s twice as dangerous for you to be out there as it is me.”
Despite it being an entirely inappropriate reaction considering the circumstances, Bellatrix grinned, showing off the perfectly white teeth that Hermione was still amazed by. “I can look after myself as well as looking after you. Come on.”
Not arguing with this, realising it would be a futile and ineffectual attempt, Hermione followed Bellatrix out of the classroom. They were just about to enter the Entrance Hall when they were abruptly faced with Neville. He looked back and forth between Bellatrix and Hermione, who had come to a stop and had yet to react, when he appeared to make a decision. Anticipating this, Hermione shouted, “Protego!” and a shield appeared as a wall, separating herself and Bellatrix from Neville.
“What... Hermione what are you doing?!” Neville yelled, though he didn’t attempt to curse, hex or jinx Bellatrix, aware that it would rebound on him.
“Let me explain, Neville,” Hermione said hurriedly. “She’s on our side.”
“On our side?” Neville exclaimed. “Hermione, you’re under the Imperius Curse, you don’t know what you’re-”
“No, Neville!” Hermione interrupted. “Please, listen. There isn’t much time. Bellatrix is fighting for us. If you don’t believe me then speak to Kingsley, he’ll tell you that Bellatrix defended him earlier. Right?” she said, looking towards Bellatrix for confirmation.
Bellatrix gave a jerk of her head to indicate yes, but she continued to stare at Neville, stony-faced. It wasn’t helping the situation one little bit, and Hermione was worried that things were going to get out of hand and everything would escalate beyond her control.
“She tortured my parents,” Neville snarled. “I don’t care even if she is telling the truth; she doesn’t deserve my forgiveness when she isn’t even sorry!”
Bellatrix, who had remained silent up until this moment, chose this moment to speak. “I don’t like you, Longbottom. I think you’re an idiot, a fool, and a pathetic wizard. But I assure you that I did not torture your parents. I took the credit because living without my Lord seemed unbearable, and I wanted to prove my faithfulness to him by suffering in Azkaban.”
“You’re a liar!” Neville shouted, and he looked more enraged than Hermione had ever seen him look before. “My grandmother told me how you laughed when you were arrested and how you stood up at the hearing and admitted it!”
“I have never admitted to the torture!” Bellatrix shrieked, and several red sparks flew from her wand, a sign that she was beginning to lose control. “Yes, I proclaimed my devotion to the Lord, and yes, admittedly I laughed when they took me, but I did not put your parents into their current miserable state.”
“Why should I believe you?” Neville spat.
“You should believe me,” Hermione interjected. “Because she admitted it to me months ago whilst we were still enemies and had no reason for dishonesty. Don’t you think... don’t you think that at such a crucial point in the war it is not the time for Bellatrix to be pretending to side with us?”
“It’s all just a game to her,” Neville said disgustedly. “She thinks it’s fun.”
Hermione shot Bellatrix a warning look before she agreed with Neville and made the situation worse. Yes, she appeared to be unfazed by the situation and the sadistic parts of her took pleasure in fighting, duelling, torturing, but damn it, Hermione loved her. And for some insane reason Bellatrix apparently felt the same way, because even if she hadn’t voiced her feelings, her actions dictated that she did. After all, actions speak louder than words, don’t they? Hermione told herself.
“She has proved herself tonight, and she could help us against You-Know-Who,” Hermione persisted. “She knows him better than we do in so many ways. Let us pass, please.” They could easily subdue Neville between them if they wanted to, but Hermione didn’t want it to come to that. It was better if they could convince him to at least leave Bellatrix alone for the moment.
“Why should I?” Neville asked.
“Because I have the memory of who did torture your parents at home,” Bellatrix offered as an incentive.
Hermione’s heart thudded at this latest revelation. Bellatrix was offering Neville something that upon first hearing it sounded kind of sick; the destruction of his parent’s memories, of their lives as they once knew them to be. After a few seconds however, Hermione began to see the appeal. Neville would catch a glimpse of the people his parent’s once were, see them as functioning, intelligent beings rather than the empty shells they had become. It would be a form of closure that he had never even come close to receiving before. The Longbottoms’ last true memory. The reality of those who had brought Neville into this world, all there for the taking in a way that had never been available before.
“How do you have the memory if you didn’t do it?” Neville asked suspiciously, picking up on the connotations behind what Bellatrix had told him.
“It isn’t my memory, it’s Rodolphus’s memory,” Bellatrix explained. “The others accused did do it. I can’t explain now, but the memory is in the Pensieve I have at Black Manor. I’m sure you won’t enjoy seeing it, but your parents do say and do some things that you may find... interesting.”
“And you’re going to show me it?” Neville asked incredulously, but there was a flicker in his eyes that told Hermione his curiosity had been piqued. “Just like that?”
“Well, provided we don’t die this evening,” Bellatrix replied dryly. “And on the condition that you allow us to pass, and that should you see another me wearing a black dress, running around cursing everyone, then you make a special effort to curse it.”
Neville looked confused. “What?”
“What Bellatrix is cleverly trying to say,” Hermione said, shooting Bellatrix an exasperated look. “Is that Rodolphus has taken Polyjuice potion to become her and is now pretending to be her in Battle. It’s a long story but the upshot is he saw Bellatrix defending Kingsley and realised she has betrayed Voldemort. I don’t have time to explain now, but just take it as granted that I am telling you the truth.”
A tiny amount of comprehension dawned on Neville’s face (though he still looked slightly confused, which was entirely understandable) and he nodded. Seeing this and knowing intuitively that he would no longer attempt to attack Bellatrix, Hermione removed the shield between them, and stepped forward with Bellatrix. “Thank you, Neville.”
“I’m doing this for my parents,” he said fiercely. “Because defeating the cause that resulted in their death matters more to me than revenge.”
Hermione squeezed Bellatrix’s arm as a warning to her not to say anything sarcastic. They didn’t have time for it was rapidly running out, and they still had so much left to do. They needed to find Narcissa and Draco, kill Nagini, and then finally, face Voldemort himself. Although Bellatrix could prove invaluable in killing Nagini, especially with her skills, Hermione didn’t want her to attempt it for two very different reasons. One, she would have to get too near to Voldemort which in itself was practically a death wish. Two, Hermione would have to give Bellatrix a reason the great snake needed to die, and Bellatrix knowing about the Horcruxes at this stage was something that Hermione still wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Semper Amor or life with an immortal Lord?
And then, Hermione was distracted by Voldemort’s voice announcing that Harry was dead.
No, no. Not Harry. Not Harry, how can he be dead? We need him. NO NO NO.
There were so many people following Voldemort’s orders to leave the castle and see Harry’s body that Hermione and Bellatrix managed to slip unnoticed between them, Bellatrix with the hood of her cloak up so as to hide her face and reduce the risk of being spotted. As they left the warmth of the castle and felt the chilly air wash over them, Hermione heard a scream, a laugh, and then she spotted Harry’s body herself. She thought she may have screamed before she slumped, held up only by Bellatrix.
“You need to focus, little babe,” Bellatrix said urgently, the most rational she had been yet. “I need you to focus, because this is about us and the only way we can be together. Remember Semper Amor. Get up.”
She didn’t really remember the next few minutes; all Hermione was aware of was Bellatrix whispering urgently to her, telling her to get up before she drew attention to them. Eventually she did so shakily, the only reason being that she had to be strong now that it was only her and Ron who knew the secret that hid within Nagini, and it would be up to them to destroy the last remaining Horcrux before they had to defeat Voldemort himself.
Except then everything was moving faster and faster, and someone shouted that Harry’s body was gone and Neville who was tormented to prove a point to the rest of the crowd was pulling Gryffindor’s sword out of the hat. He sliced off Nagini’s head in one vicious swoop, the snake split apart, crashing to the ground and screeching no more. There was a scream, Voldemort’s, and the most evil wizard of all time was now gunning for Neville, aiming spells at him that were blocked by a Shield Charm someone had cast, until there was a flash of green, whizzing through the air towards him. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Hermione as she watched, horrified, until Bellatrix flicked her wand and the light disappeared into the Sorting Hat that had jumped up from the ground to protect Neville, the light draining into it, having no effect.
Voldemort had swung around to see who had defended Neville, and in that time Bellatrix had disappeared behind the giant, Grawp, pulling Hermione with her, back towards Neville. As Voldemort searched the crowd for the culprit, still fixated on who had dared to prevent his curse, Bellatrix seized Neville by the shoulders and pulled him next to them behind the giant’s leg, where Hermione hoped they would be safe for a few seconds, at least until the giant moved again.
“You... you saved my life?!” Neville yelled over the Battle’s noise, the hatred in his eyes that had previously been present when he gazed at Bellatrix now replaced with confusion as he questioned her.
“Yes, idiot. And now that you’ve killed Nagini he’s going to want vengeance; that snake is the only thing the Dark Lord cares about. Move,” she snarled, and doing as he was bidden, he ran after her, Hermione following close behind.
The final hour has truly begun, Hermione thought. This is war.
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 20. ))