FIC: Impossible (22/30)
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. :)
Additional warning in this part that the memory may be distressing for some.
(1), (2) , (3a), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), (8), ( 9), (10), ( 11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20), (21)
**
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
Snow Patrol, Run22.
The next day, since waking, showering, and eating breakfast, all Hermione had done was argue with Bellatrix about her wand. As much as Hermione wanted there to be a blissful period where they got along and everything was sweetness and light, it was quickly becoming apparent to her that Bellatrix was entirely incapable of behaving like an adult. Despite the fact that she had only just woken, Hermione was already mentally drained, and wished that Bellatrix could have at least given her a few hours’ peace.
Hermione was currently still in possession of Bellatrix’s first, dragon heartstring wand, and had been ever since the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. As much as she didn’t want to use the wand, it was the only one that she had at present available to her. Bellatrix on the other hand had the new wand she had used at the Battle; one which she proudly proclaimed Voldemort had provided her with, before she looked sheepish upon the realisation that this did not impress Hermione in the slightest.
As far as Hermione was concerned, she didn’t want a wand with a horrible history stored in its’ memory, but she doubted that a new wand was an option at present. The wizarding world was still recovering in the immediate aftermath of the war, and the chance of there being a wand shop such as Ollivanders open was highly unlikely. Bellatrix however, didn’t share her opinion.
The main reason they were arguing at the moment was due to the fact that Bellatrix had requested her old wand back, stating that she preferred it to her new one. So far Hermione had steadfastly refused to give it up to her, knowing that Bellatrix had used the wand to commit hateful crimes over the years, and indeed that it was the wand she used against Hermione whilst they were still enemies. Nevertheless, each time that Hermione refused, Bellatrix insisted more and more that she wanted it back, until she started to become annoyed. As usual.
“I want my original wand back. Now!” Bellatrix said forcefully.
“You used this wand to do terrible things. No,” Hermione refused, standing her ground. She sensed that the conversation may take a turn for the worse, but for the moment she wasn’t too worried. After all, she had to get used to Bellatrix’s mood swings and rages, if the last twelve hours or so were anything to go by.
“It’s still my wand,” Bellatrix protested sullenly, pouting and looking childlike.
“No, Bellatrix,” Hermione refused, more firmly than before. What would it take to make Bellatrix understand how important this issue was to Hermione?
“It isn’t your decision to make,” Bellatrix whined.
“I just don’t see what the problem is when the wand you’re using now works perfectly well. You said so yourself!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Because I want the wand that I have had since I was a child,” Bellatrix protested. “I bonded well with it.”
Hermione felt as though she was faced with a four year old who just couldn’t listen to logic and reason. There was absolutely no need for Bellatrix to switch wands other than the fact that she was just being choosy. It wasn’t a case of there being an issue with bonding, considering that the wand Bellatrix currently used also had a dragon heartstring core, and was similar in many ways to her first wand, other than the fact it was only twelve inches as opposed to twelve and three quarters. Such a difference was entirely minor, however, and Bellatrix was simply being difficult for the sake of it. Again, as usual.
“You tortured me with this wand,” Hermione said dryly, holding up Bellatrix’s first wand in her hand. “Did that help you bond with it?”
Bellatrix at least had the decency to flush slightly at this. “That is irrelevant.”
“No Bella, it’s not,” Hermione insisted. “You don’t need this wand anymore. You’re supposed to be making a new start, and you already want the one thing that enabled you to hurt people. The memories contained in this wand don’t even bear thinking about! Please, will you just let this go? For me?”
Hermione was unsure if such emotional blackmail would actually work on Bellatrix, but it was worth finding out now for the future. Besides, nothing else that she had said so far had an impact on Bellatrix, so it was time to step things up a gear as far as she was concerned. This was something that Hermione felt strongly about, and she was not prepared to back down. Admittedly, her bossy side was coming out, but she considered that after all the terrible things Bellatrix had done to her, she was entitled to a moment or two of getting her own way. It wasn’t revenge as such, but it would make her feel just a bit bloody better, that was for certain.
To Bellatrix’s credit, she didn’t reply immediately, apparently thinking the request over when faced with Hermione’s emotional argument. It was like something in her had clicked, and she no longer had a little-girl expression on her face. Eventually, when she did reply, she said slowly, “I have a suggestion.”
Hermione frowned. This she hadn’t been expecting. “What suggestion?”
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, apparently irritated. “I won’t ever use the wand; I’ll just keep it for myself and I’ll continue using the one I have now.”
“Why do you want to keep it then?” Hermione asked, perplexed
“It is a reminder of when I was young,” Bellatrix said, for once sounding entirely sincere. “That is the wand I used to learn magic; is it really so wrong that I want it as a reminder of my past good memories?”
Hermione found it hard to picture Bellatrix as a young witch, but she supposed that even considering what she had grown into, she still would have experienced some of the initial excitement that Hermione had when she went to Ollivander’s to pick out her first wand. Even the pure-bloods still had similar experiences; they just tended to act more reserved around others, and displayed happiness with a great deal more arrogance. Bellatrix would not have let go to the same extent that Hermione had when she bought her wand, but she probably still felt a similar sort of pride at finally being given the opportunity of having her own wand.
“Ok,” Hermione said, agreeing. “I’ll give it to you when I have a new wand myself, on the condition that you never use it.”
Contrary to the pleased reaction Hermione was expecting, Bellatrix looked angry instead. “You know, I imagined that after the war ended you would still do as I said. Evidently, that’s not the case.”
For a second or two, Hermione was taken aback at the unexpected change in Bellatrix. She had gone from being childish, to being rational, to sudden anger. There were so many emotions in such little time that Hermione barely knew where she stood, because despite the fact that she knew more about Bellatrix than before, there was still a great deal that she had to learn and understand about the older witch. Moreover, she accepted that it would probably take years until she understood everything about her, and that there may be certain things about Bellatrix that always remained a mystery. At the same time, she needed to make it clear that now the war was over and they were actively in a relationship together, that she didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life walking on eggshells around Bellatrix. Sometimes, Bellatrix would have to accept that she couldn’t do as she pleased or have what she wanted, because life was about giving as well as taking.
“I’m not your toy,” Hermione said sharply, standing up for herself. “This is supposed to be an equal relationship, Bellatrix. You need to learn to accept that.”
“Actually, I was under the impression that you were happy to allow me to take control,” Bellatrix snapped. “You said that you would still do as I wanted; the same as before.”
“I think you’ll find that what I said was that I would still be here. There’s a difference,” Hermione pointed out.
“Well I want you here doing as you’re told. I want you to realise that you answer to me forever, because you belong to me,” Bellatrix answered, as if it was the most ordinary request in the world.
Is she serious? How could Bellatrix ever think that Hermione would be ok with living in a cell for the rest of her life, doing as she was instructed? She had only ever been forced to submit to Bellatrix, and would never do so willingly; especially for the rest of her life. Even if Bellatrix was naturally the more dominant one in their relationship, that didn’t mean Hermione was going to roll over and quite literally take the abuse hurled at her. That was not the person she was, or somebody she would ever become. Above all else, that wasn’t normal. An abductor and a captive had that sort of sick bond, not two people who were supposed to be in love, even if it was through an ancient magical love. Even if we used to be abductor and captive.
“Not... not like your slave or someone you can... can order about,” Hermione stammered, nauseated by the implication. “Or cage, for that matter.” Her plan to stand her ground with Bellatrix had gone completely out of the window, for she was entirely thrown by Bellatrix’s latest admission. She couldn’t think clearly, and Hermione didn’t know what to say or do to get through to Bellatrix how very wrong her wishes were.
“Well I don’t want to keep you in a cell anymore, but I do want you to behave yourself,” Bellatrix said casually, as if that made everything ok.
Did Bellatrix really mean that? She wanted to control Hermione in every way possible; she just wouldn’t lock her up anymore? That was twisted, but so like Bellatrix to think such a thing. She had never really had a normal relationship; her marriage with Rodolphus was practically forced on her, and she had spent years devoting her life to Voldemort. The most normal relationship she had was with Narcissa, and even then she still seemed to be the one in charge, especially considering that she was the older sister.
“How can you think I would be ok with you telling me what to do?” Hermione said, her voice shaking. “I didn’t agree to those terms at all.”
“Because that was what I assumed you meant, when you gave your permission for me to be in control,” Bellatrix said coldly. “Just because I want to share my bed with you, it doesn’t mean that I’m happy for you not allow me to make my own decisions.”
“Likewise!” Hermione shot back, her voice slightly hysterical. Don’t cry, don’t cry. “I meant that you would be in control of your own everyday choices, not in control of matters that I feel strongly about!”
“You have no right to force your opinion on me,” Bellatrix snapped.
“Is this about the wand?” Hermione asked desperately. “Because if it’s that important to you, then just take it!” She drew the wand from her own pocket, and threw it towards Bellatrix. It landed at her feet, where she stood opposite her in the sitting room. Hermione looked down at it, her blood was boiling with rage, sickness, and every other horrible feeling that Bellatrix managed to draw out of her.
“This isn’t just about the wand,” Bellatrix responded, a hiss in her voice.
“Last night then?” Hermione tried again, referring to her reluctance and eventual refusal to be intimate with Bellatrix for the first time. “You really do have a problem with waiting for me to...”
“No!” Bellatrix interrupted. “I accepted that! You behaved as I imagined you should, waiting for me to call you on your behaviour, and allowing me to practically make the decision for you. That was fine. Now however, you are trying to tell me what to do, and that, sweetheart, is what I have a problem with. I don’t take orders from somebody like you!”
Hermione understood in that moment what exactly was going on. Bellatrix was not angry with her because she was trying to take her wand from her, she was angry because someone she deemed as less worth as a witch than herself was telling her what to do. Hermione’s blood status was still a huge problem for Bellatrix no matter what she claimed, and despite the fact that she stated Hermione was an exception to her general beliefs. No, this was so much more than just Bellatrix throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t accept Hermione’s instructions because she wouldn’t allow herself to take orders from just another Mudblood.
Hermione made a decision. Voicing her thoughts aloud, she said in a surprisingly strong voice, “If you can’t accept that as a Muggle-born I should be equal to you, then this relationship is never going to work.”
Bellatrix laughed horribly. “You won’t leave, because like it or not, you need me, Mudblood.”
There it was; that hurtful name. Hermione resolved not to retaliate with her own insult, knowing that Bellatrix had said it to provoke a reaction out of her.
“And you need me too,” Hermione said instead, as calmly as possible. “But let me tell you something; you need me far more than I need you. I have friends, support, a positive reputation within the wizarding community. You have your sister and nephew, and not a whole lot else. You’re hated, Bellatrix, and I’m the only one who can help to change people’s perceptions of you.”
Before she knew it, Bellatrix had crossed the room and gripped her by the throat. “You dare to turn your back on me now and I will kill you. And don’t think I won’t, because if you walk away, believe me, the anger I feel towards you will far overcome any feelings I may have.”
Refusing to allow herself to be scared, (for less than twenty-four hours ago she had fought to defeat the greatest Dark Wizard of all time) Hermione held her head up high, and said in as resolute a voice as she could muster considering that Bellatrix was constricting her airway, “Then kill me.”
“Excuse me?” Bellatrix said, taken aback. She loosened her grip on Hermione’s neck ever so slightly.
“Kill me,” Hermione repeated. “Because you will have nothing. You will be thrown into Azkaban and never released. You won’t even have the option of trying to turn to Voldemort, because guess what? He’s dead.” She glanced down at Bellatrix’s left forearm, where the Dark Mark had almost faded, to back up her statement.
Breathing hard, Bellatrix stared at her. She spat venomously, “I hate you.”
“I hate you too,” Hermione said with as much force as she could muster, ignoring the shooting pain in her neck from where Bellatrix held her. “Unfortunately, I also love you. Let go of me, Bella.”
For several seconds, Bellatrix seemed to have an internal struggle with herself. If she released Hermione then it would be like she was allowing her to win, but if she kept hold of her, she would achieve nothing. Choosing the latter would mean hurting Hermione so badly that she left, or killing her, in which case she would lose anyway. Smart enough to realise that would be her worst option, Bellatrix let go of Hermione, standing backwards, apparently shocked at how far she had let things get, and her own behaviour.
Knowing that now was not the time to fight with Bellatrix or to be angry with her for behaving in the only way she knew how to, Hermione bravely stepped towards her once more. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Bellatrix, pulling the shorter witch’s head against her collarbone, and gently holding her in place there. “I won’t leave you, I promise. All you have to do in return is value me as a person.”
Bellatrix remained silent, keeping her head buried against Hermione. Briefly, Hermione wondered if she was crying, showing weakness, but somehow, she didn’t imagine that Bellatrix was capable of such emotions yet, if at all. Still, on the off chance that she was wrong, she allowed Bellatrix to hide her face from view, knowing that she needed a private moment when she could listen to Hermione without being judged for the expression on her face.
“You can have the wand when I have a new one, Bellatrix, but please don’t use it. Just do this one tiny thing for me. I know you’ve already done so much, but I’ve risked a lot for you too. And if you promise to start trying to see me as your equal,, then I’ll help people to understand that they don’t need to hate you, or Narcissa or Draco. It’s going to be tough for the next few months, but I promise that things will change. The one thing about the Order is that they forgive a hell of a lot more easily than Voldemort did,” Hermione told her. “It’ll be ok.”
“I won’t use the wand,” Bellatrix mumbled into Hermione’s chest. “And I’ll try for you.”
Relieved and grateful, Hermione smiled. She placed a kiss atop Bellatrix’s head, the witch’s raven curls tickling her skin as she lowered her mouth. “Good,” she said softly. “Are you ready to look at me yet?”
Bellatrix lifted her head, and Hermione noted that there was no sign of tears. However, there was a vulnerability in Bellatrix’s eyes that Hermione had barely ever witnessed, and she reminded herself to tread carefully and to take the chance to nurture the good in Bellatrix whilst she could. For this reason, she slowly drew their mouths together, and sucked on Bellatrix’s bottom lip. She swirled her tongue around Bellatrix’s, hoping to distract the raven haired beauty entirely from the intense argument that had just taken place. This was the proof she offered to Bellatrix that she wasn’t angry, and that things were going to be ok between them, even after Bellatrix had hurt her.
Eventually, Hermione hoped that one day Bellatrix would never want to attack her again, and that she was entirely capable of change. Wrong or right, she chose not to see it as abuse; at least, not in the conventional form. Reward and punishment was all that Bellatrix had ever known; she didn’t know what it was just to fight and make up. It would be down to Hermione to teach her that.
It was a knock on the door that forced Hermione to part from Bellatrix, and distracted her from the argument entirely. “Do you know who that could be?” she asked, a little breathless.
Bellatrix nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing her hair back from her face. “The Longbottom boy. When you were in the Headmaster’s office last night, he cornered me and demanded that I carry out my promise to him that I would show him Rodolphus’s memory of the night his parents were tortured.”
Hermione gawped. “Is he really up to that so soon?”
With a shrug, Bellatrix pulled away from Hermione entirely, and walked out into the hallway. “Not my concern. He wanted to see the memory as soon as possible, and I want to get this over with. Besides, the Ministry are going to be examining the memories I have shortly, to check they haven’t been tampered with or altered, so it may be the only chance I get to show him for a while.”
As Bellatrix opened the door and stood back to allow Neville entry, Hermione tried not to look too shocked at Bellatrix’s politeness towards Neville. In turn, he looked wary, and there was still hatred in his eyes as he gazed at Bellatrix. Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything offensive, and just followed her up the stairs quietly, and towards the library where Hermione knew the Pensieve to be. Walking behind, Hermione followed, under the assumption that her presence would help to keep Neville calm, especially as they reached the library, and walked towards the cabinet containing vials of memories.
Hermione couldn’t help staring around in wonderment at all of the books she was surrounded by, for this was the first time she had entered the library. Although she imagined many of the books to relate to the Dark Arts considering the family that Bellatrix had come from, there were more than likely many interesting reads that hopefully she would be privileged enough to read someday soon. It was hard for her to focus on the current situation, so distracted was she by being surrounded with one of her many loves; books of all shapes and sizes.
“Are you ready?” Bellatrix asked, getting straight down to business. She poured the memory into the Pensieve, waiting for Neville to enter.
Neville nodded, his face white. As of yet he hadn’t spoken a single world to either Bellatrix or Hermione, and he looked terrified at what he was about to witness. Hermione didn’t blame him in the slightest.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked him gently.
Neville considered her offer. “I... I don’t know.” His voice sounded smaller than it usually did, making him sound like a little boy.
Noticing Bellatrix opening her mouth, Hermione realised that she looked as though she was about to say something rude. Shooting her a warning look over Neville’s shoulder, Hermione was relieved when she snapped her jaw closed again. Evidently, she was beginning to learn.
“Well, how about I come with you, and then I’ll just stay silent?” Hermione suggested. “I’ll move into the background so you won’t even know I’m there.”
Neville nodded. “Ok. That sounds... that’s ok.”
Hermione squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of support. “Let’s go then.”
**
November 1981
Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Junior stood silently outside the property, wands drawn. Without uttering a word, they seemed to agree silently on the plan of action, and with one swift swipe from Rabastan, the door flew open, and the group entered. They ran into the kitchen, taking the Longbottom’s by surprise as they were eating their dinner. The unarmed Aurors were powerless to fight as they were magically restrained, for they weren’t in possession of their wands. Frightened, they whimpered on the floor as the three Death Eaters circled them, wands drawn and pointed directly at them. The only part of their bodies that Frank and Alice were able to move were their heads, and so they turned to gaze at each other silently, a terrified look in their eyes.
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rodolphus asked sharply, looking as though he was in no mood for games.
There was no reply.
“I’ll ask you again,” Rodolphus said, growing impatient. “Where is the Dark Lord?”
“We... we don’t know. He’s dead,” Frank denied, panting.
Rodolphus didn’t waste any more time at all. “Crucio!” he yelled, watching as Frank writhed in pain. “Tell us!”
“Stop, please!” Alice shouted, pleading for her husband. “We don’t know! We don’t know!”
“Lies!” Barty screeched, echoing Rodolphus. “Tell us the truth!”
“Please! Please, we don’t know,” Alice repeated, and she cried out as she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, just as her husband had been.
Rabastan, Rodolphus and Barty took it in turns to repeat the same question over and over, and when they were given the same reply, they continued to use the same curse. By far, the most skilled at performing the curse was Rodolphus, and so he took charge of the situation. Unfortunately, the Death Eater’s didn’t appear to be getting anywhere fast, and so Rodolphus decided to take things further. Wordlessly, he looked at Barty and Rabastan, watching as they nodded their head, apparently aware of his intentions. It seemed that they had already discussed what they would do if the Longbottom’s wouldn’t help them, and now it was time to kick things up a notch.
“Now,” Rodolphus said.
“CRUCIO!” All three yelled, pointed their wands at Alice. They watched as Frank screamed, begging for his wife, but it made no difference to them at all if he didn’t like their actions.
Unlike her husband, Alice didn’t waste any breath screaming. Instead, she tightly closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath. The Death Eaters didn’t appear to have any idea what she was saying, and didn’t particular care unless it was useful information for them. Unfortunately it looked as though neither of the Longbottoms’ were going to tell them anything they needed to know, and so really, they were causing pain and suffering for the sake of it with only the smallest chance of learning the information they wanted.
Just as Rodolphus had signalled to the others that it was time to end the curse for the moment, there was a cry from upstairs, Rodolphus wheeled around. “What was that?”
“N-nothing,” Alice stammered, shooting a terrified glance at her husband.
Rodolphus was no fool, however. “Watch them,” he ordered, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He entered the first room he passed, and discovered a baby in a cot, crying. Grinning at his new bargaining tool, he roughly pulled the baby upwards and ran back down the stairs with him.
“Look what I found,” he said.
“What are we supposed to do with that?” Rabastan asked, looking disgusted. “Put it back where you found it, brother. You don’t know where these filthy, animalistic freaks have been with it! They could have been socialising with Muggles for all we know.”
At once, Rodolphus dangled Neville, dropping him on the floor heavily. He landed on his backside with a thud, and cried out immediately after his body connected with the floor.
“Not Neville, please,” Alice interrupted, begging and crying heavily. “He’s just a baby. Please, no!”
Seeing that his mother was crying, Neville too began to cry harder. “Mama... mama...” he said through his tears, repeating the word over and over.
“It’s ok Neville, it’s ok my darling,” Alice sobbed, trying to compose herself for his sake. She turned back to Rodolphus and said angrily, “Can’t you see he’s upset? He’s just a baby; leave him alone!”
Rodolphus knelt down next to her. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your brat.” Murmuring, he flicked his wand, once more inflicting the Cruciatus Curse, glancing over at Neville every now and then to smirk at his reaction, and the fact that he was bashing his tiny little fists on the floor.
Copying Rodolphus, Rabastan began to perform the same curse on Frank, and together they stood, allowing the curse to go on for several minutes before they stopped. Barty had started to get twitchy, and was looking out of the window, on the lookout for Aurors.
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rabastan repeated. “Tell us, and we will make your death quick and painless. We’ll even spare the boy.”
“We... we would tell you if we knew,” Frank said, using all his strength to talk over Neville’s crying. “All we have been told is that he is dead. Please... our son... Neville...”
Neville screamed even louder at the look on his father’s face.
“It’s ok son... it’s ok. Me and mummy... we love you,” Frank said, trying to reach out to Neville.
“Yes darling, we love you so very much,” Alice repeated, still sobbing, attempting to shuffle closer to Neville.
The binding jinx you used has worn off,” Rabastan said to Rodolphus quietly. “They’re moving again.”
“It doesn’t matter; neither of them have the energy left to fight,” Rodolphus replied, casually flicking his wand and causing Frank to shriek in pain.
Over the next hour the Cruciatus Curse was used again and again, with Neville crying manically for his parents. The Death Eaters did nothing to placate him, leaving Neville to crawl around his parents alone, who kept talking to him, despite the constant pain they were in, They ignored all questions from the Death Eaters, instead preferring to tell their son that it was going to be ok, and that he had nothing to worry about. Each time his mother spoke to him, Neville would grasp her hand, only for it to be torn away as the Cruciatus Curse hit her once more. The pattern was beginning to get repetitive, and everyone involved knew that soon the scene would draw to a close.
“They’re not budging,” Rodolphus said, breathing heavily. “Well, if that’s the way you want to play it.”
Alice mumbled something incoherent, her eyes closed. Neville clung onto her hand next to her, his head resting against her arm.
Walking towards Alice, Rodolphus kicked her out of the way, and dragged Neville backwards on the floor, ignoring his shrieks. “Maybe if the life of your son is at stake, you’ll take us a little more seriously.”
There was nothing but silence from both Frank and Alice Longbottom.
“No? Well then,” Rodolphus hissed, and he raised his wand.
“Rodolphus!” A female voice called, all three of the Death Eaters turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange walk into the room. She sneered down at the Longbottoms. “What are you doing?”
“The child,” Rodolphus said. “If we kill the child, maybe they’ll talk.”
Bellatrix looked down at Alice Longbottom, who was now curled in a ball moaning, and Frank Longbottom who was staring vacantly drool coming out of his mouth. “They’re not capable of speech at all! What did you do?!” She stared at the other Death Eaters, anger reflected in her features.
“Cruciatus Curse,” Rodolphus said gruffly. “You use it all the time to...”
“Fool!” Bellatrix shrieked, and she waved her wand to send Rodolphus flying backwards into Barty and Rabastan, where the three crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Consistent and constant use will render the individuals it is performed on incoherent and brain damaged! How are we ever going to find the Dark Lord now?!” Enraged, there was another bang as she flicked her wand, and Rodolphus cried out in pain.
Rodolphus mumbled, “If we use the child...”
“No,” Bellatrix interjected sharply. “It is a lost cause! Don’t you see the state they are in? Using the child will achieve nothing!”
“Then let’s just kill the child out of revenge,” Rodolphus suggested, beginning to compose himself. “Teach the wizarding world that this isn’t over.”
“No,” Bellatrix repeated angrily. “They won’t even know we’ve done it... their minds are addled. Our efforts are best spent looking for another trail leading to our Lord.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and scrambling up, the three Death Eaters watched Bellatrix expectantly, waiting for instruction. When none came, Rabastan said in a panicked voice, “It could be Aurors if they suspect something is wrong? But how?”
“Never mind how,” Bellatrix hissed. “It’s time to leave!”
Disregarding her, Rodolphus walked over towards Neville, and raised his wand. “Let me just...”
Hissing, Bellatrix sent him flying backwards against the wall, where his head cracked sickeningly, and he slumped to the floor.
“You bitch!” Rabastan said. “What did you do that for?”
There was another more insistent knock on the door.
“He doesn’t listen!” Bellatrix said furiously. “Come!”
There was a crash.
Throughout, Neville sat quietly, watching his parents. His mum wasn’t crying anymore, and he smiled at her, seemingly not at all worried by her eerily calm state. Bellatrix had her eyes focused on him as all four Death Eaters Disapparated, and then everything faded to white.
**
After exiting the memory, there was silence in the room. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Neville, who slumped onto the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at Bellatrix yet, not after seeing the memory. It was true, Bellatrix hadn’t participated, but merely seeing that she had been part of such a horrendous attack was enough to sicken Hermione. It was worse after seeing what Neville’s parents had gone through and how they had suffered despite genuinely not knowing anything about Voldemort’s whereabouts.
“What happened after you had gone?”
Neville had asked the question in a fairly neutral tone, but he still stared ahead of him, as though in shock.
“We tried to run,” Bellatrix said. There was no note of anger, irritability, upset or happiness in her voice. Like Neville, she sounded impassive. “But the Aurors caught sight of us just before we Disapparated, and quickly caught up with us. I assume they took your parents straight to St. Mungo’s.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Neville asked, sounding eerily calm.
“It wouldn’t have achieved anything,” Bellatrix replied with a shrug.
“Since when did that bother you?” There was now a hint of agitation in Neville’s voice, as though he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and coming out of the trance he seemed to be in.
Bellatrix moved towards Neville, and sat on the floor opposite him. She didn’t look sympathetic, but she seemed willing enough to talk to him. Although surprised, Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. She would stay out of this unless Neville brought her into it, or the situation became too tense and it seemed that Bellatrix and Neville may start to duel. It seemed like a possibility, especially considering the current state that Neville was in. He was still facing forward as though he was a Hogwarts statue, and hadn’t even attempted to brush away the tears that were steadily leaking down his face.
“You are a pure-blood. As you have already witnessed yourself, the Dark Lord is... was... reluctant to kill pure-bloods. He would only do so if absolutely needed, and it wasn’t necessary to kill you. It is exactly why he gave you the option to support him whilst at the Battle yesterday; he genuinely would have allowed you to become a servant if you had sworn your loyalty to him,” Bellatrix revealed. “Besides, Draco was your age at the time, and had I done anything to harm you, Narcissa would never have forgiven me. She never did like violence against babies and children, and she’s the only person I cared about at the time so...”
“Wait,” Neville interrupted. “Why don’t I remember any of that? Even Harry has some flashbacks, but with me, there’s nothing!”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because yours is a normal memory and you didn’t possess the connection that Potter does... did... with the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix answered.
“Oh,” Neville replied. Then, blinking, he seemed to remember where he was and aware of the way he was acting, he stood shakily. He turned to Hermione, who watched him worriedly, not knowing if he was going to be ok or not. Seeming to sense this, Neville gave her a platonic hug, and upon drawing away, he said, “I’m going. I... I need to be on my own before I explain to Gran what I’ve just seen. I’ll see you soon, I suppose.”
Hermione nodded sympathetically. “Do you want me to go home with you and take you to your grandmother?”
Neville shook his head. “No, no. I’ll be fine.” As if he had suddenly remembered that Bellatrix was in the room, he faced her, and wiped his expression of emotion. “I still hate you, Bellatrix. You knew what was happening to my parents, even if you didn’t take part or intend for them to end up in the state they are today. But at the same time, in a twisted sort of way, I owe my life to you. I wish I didn’t, but I do and nothing will change that. You saved me at the Battle, and you saved me when I was a baby.”
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to all of this?”
“The point is that if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you. I feel like... like I have closure, now. I’ve never heard my parents say they loved me, not once. Now though, I’ve heard it for myself, and I know that even though they were losing their minds, their only concern was for me,” Neville added, his voice breaking.
“I’ll be happy to stay away from you,” Bellatrix declared. “So we’ll probably never have to have another conversation again.”
“No, we won’t,” Neville said, agreeing. “But you should know that if you do anything to hurt Hermione, it isn’t just Ron and Harry you have to worry about, it’ll be me too.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, Longbottom, but I don’t intend on doing anything to her,” Bellatrix snapped, though Hermione couldn’t help remembering the way Bellatrix had treated her today before Neville’s arrival. Nevertheless, she kept quiet, knowing now was not the time or place to dispute Bellatrix’s statement. “Shall I see you out?” she added, effectively ending the conversation.
“No; I’ll see myself out,” Neville refused. He gave Hermione a small wave, which she returned, before leaving the library.
Not disputing Neville’s choice, Bellatrix watched him leave the library silently. For her part, Hermione too was unable to speak, processing what she had just watched inside the memory of Rodolphus. She could understand how Neville felt as though he had closure by seeing his parents’ last moments of sanity, and how it would have helped him to know that they really did love him. On the other hand, she focused on what she had seen in Bellatrix’s face as she looked down at the Longbottoms; pure venom. It scared her to think that even now, Bellatrix didn’t care about what had happened to them, she didn’t regret it at all.
“Of course I regret it,” Bellatrix said.
“What?” Hermione said, and then realised Bellatrix had been inside her mind again without her realising. “Stop getting into my head! Wait... what? You regret it?”
“The Longbottoms knew nothing. The others had just taken away the brilliant minds of two pure-bloods for no reason at all, and Rodolphus was too stupid to realise along the way what he was doing. Had I been there, I would have realised immediately, and I would have been able to prevent them from doing the damage they did,” Bellatrix elaborated.
“You wouldn’t have let them go free,” Hermione stated.
“No,” Bellatrix said. “I would probably have tried to persuade them of the benefits of supporting the Dark Lord instead.”
Hermione stared. She didn’t have the energy or the inclination to explain to Bellatrix exactly what was wrong with her reasoning, and so she let the comment pass without comment.
“I wouldn’t have tortured them in front of their child, either,” Bellatrix continued. “I didn’t say anything just now because I couldn’t bear trying to be nice to him anymore than I already had, but between us, he must have that memory inside him on some level. It just traumatises him so much that he can’t face it as he’s blocked it from his mind.”
There was still one thing that Hermione needed to know, however. “Why would you care about someone else’s baby?” she asked curiously.
“I happen to like babies,” Bellatrix said, defensiveness in her voice. “Just because I don’t have any children it doesn’t mean that I hate them.”
“I guess I just assumed that because you don’t have any...” Hermione’s voice trailed off, but the insinuation hung in the room, unspoken, but heavy on the atmosphere.
“I don’t have any children for obvious reasons,” Bellatrix said. Hermione assumed that she must have looked blank, because in an irritated tone of voice, Bellatrix added, “One, I was entirely repulsed every time Rodolphus attempted to touch me, and two, pregnancy was the last thing on my mind whilst I was serving the Dark Lord. It doesn’t mean that I hate all children; some are entirely pleasant to have around. Such as the quiet ones.”
“Right.”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed. “Yes? Did you have something to say on the matter?”
Hermione shook her head. Apparently, she was never going to understand Bellatrix. Just when she thought she must know all there was to figure out about her, the older witch went and said something else that was surprising. The idea of Bellatrix actually liking children had never occurred to her, mainly because she didn’t have any of her own. Whatever the case, Hermione was not going to press Bellatrix any further, as considering everything that had already happened before lunch on their first day together, it would be nice to spend the rest of the day relaxing. Therefore Hermione chose to accept Bellatrix’s answer, and summoned the courage to pick a book at random from one of the shelves behind her. With a smile on her face, she took a seat on one of the armchairs and curled her legs up to read peacefully, for the first time in what felt like forever.
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 23. ))
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. :)
Additional warning in this part that the memory may be distressing for some.
(1), (2) , (3a), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), (8), ( 9), (10), ( 11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20), (21)
**
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
Snow Patrol, Run22.
The next day, since waking, showering, and eating breakfast, all Hermione had done was argue with Bellatrix about her wand. As much as Hermione wanted there to be a blissful period where they got along and everything was sweetness and light, it was quickly becoming apparent to her that Bellatrix was entirely incapable of behaving like an adult. Despite the fact that she had only just woken, Hermione was already mentally drained, and wished that Bellatrix could have at least given her a few hours’ peace.
Hermione was currently still in possession of Bellatrix’s first, dragon heartstring wand, and had been ever since the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. As much as she didn’t want to use the wand, it was the only one that she had at present available to her. Bellatrix on the other hand had the new wand she had used at the Battle; one which she proudly proclaimed Voldemort had provided her with, before she looked sheepish upon the realisation that this did not impress Hermione in the slightest.
As far as Hermione was concerned, she didn’t want a wand with a horrible history stored in its’ memory, but she doubted that a new wand was an option at present. The wizarding world was still recovering in the immediate aftermath of the war, and the chance of there being a wand shop such as Ollivanders open was highly unlikely. Bellatrix however, didn’t share her opinion.
The main reason they were arguing at the moment was due to the fact that Bellatrix had requested her old wand back, stating that she preferred it to her new one. So far Hermione had steadfastly refused to give it up to her, knowing that Bellatrix had used the wand to commit hateful crimes over the years, and indeed that it was the wand she used against Hermione whilst they were still enemies. Nevertheless, each time that Hermione refused, Bellatrix insisted more and more that she wanted it back, until she started to become annoyed. As usual.
“I want my original wand back. Now!” Bellatrix said forcefully.
“You used this wand to do terrible things. No,” Hermione refused, standing her ground. She sensed that the conversation may take a turn for the worse, but for the moment she wasn’t too worried. After all, she had to get used to Bellatrix’s mood swings and rages, if the last twelve hours or so were anything to go by.
“It’s still my wand,” Bellatrix protested sullenly, pouting and looking childlike.
“No, Bellatrix,” Hermione refused, more firmly than before. What would it take to make Bellatrix understand how important this issue was to Hermione?
“It isn’t your decision to make,” Bellatrix whined.
“I just don’t see what the problem is when the wand you’re using now works perfectly well. You said so yourself!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Because I want the wand that I have had since I was a child,” Bellatrix protested. “I bonded well with it.”
Hermione felt as though she was faced with a four year old who just couldn’t listen to logic and reason. There was absolutely no need for Bellatrix to switch wands other than the fact that she was just being choosy. It wasn’t a case of there being an issue with bonding, considering that the wand Bellatrix currently used also had a dragon heartstring core, and was similar in many ways to her first wand, other than the fact it was only twelve inches as opposed to twelve and three quarters. Such a difference was entirely minor, however, and Bellatrix was simply being difficult for the sake of it. Again, as usual.
“You tortured me with this wand,” Hermione said dryly, holding up Bellatrix’s first wand in her hand. “Did that help you bond with it?”
Bellatrix at least had the decency to flush slightly at this. “That is irrelevant.”
“No Bella, it’s not,” Hermione insisted. “You don’t need this wand anymore. You’re supposed to be making a new start, and you already want the one thing that enabled you to hurt people. The memories contained in this wand don’t even bear thinking about! Please, will you just let this go? For me?”
Hermione was unsure if such emotional blackmail would actually work on Bellatrix, but it was worth finding out now for the future. Besides, nothing else that she had said so far had an impact on Bellatrix, so it was time to step things up a gear as far as she was concerned. This was something that Hermione felt strongly about, and she was not prepared to back down. Admittedly, her bossy side was coming out, but she considered that after all the terrible things Bellatrix had done to her, she was entitled to a moment or two of getting her own way. It wasn’t revenge as such, but it would make her feel just a bit bloody better, that was for certain.
To Bellatrix’s credit, she didn’t reply immediately, apparently thinking the request over when faced with Hermione’s emotional argument. It was like something in her had clicked, and she no longer had a little-girl expression on her face. Eventually, when she did reply, she said slowly, “I have a suggestion.”
Hermione frowned. This she hadn’t been expecting. “What suggestion?”
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, apparently irritated. “I won’t ever use the wand; I’ll just keep it for myself and I’ll continue using the one I have now.”
“Why do you want to keep it then?” Hermione asked, perplexed
“It is a reminder of when I was young,” Bellatrix said, for once sounding entirely sincere. “That is the wand I used to learn magic; is it really so wrong that I want it as a reminder of my past good memories?”
Hermione found it hard to picture Bellatrix as a young witch, but she supposed that even considering what she had grown into, she still would have experienced some of the initial excitement that Hermione had when she went to Ollivander’s to pick out her first wand. Even the pure-bloods still had similar experiences; they just tended to act more reserved around others, and displayed happiness with a great deal more arrogance. Bellatrix would not have let go to the same extent that Hermione had when she bought her wand, but she probably still felt a similar sort of pride at finally being given the opportunity of having her own wand.
“Ok,” Hermione said, agreeing. “I’ll give it to you when I have a new wand myself, on the condition that you never use it.”
Contrary to the pleased reaction Hermione was expecting, Bellatrix looked angry instead. “You know, I imagined that after the war ended you would still do as I said. Evidently, that’s not the case.”
For a second or two, Hermione was taken aback at the unexpected change in Bellatrix. She had gone from being childish, to being rational, to sudden anger. There were so many emotions in such little time that Hermione barely knew where she stood, because despite the fact that she knew more about Bellatrix than before, there was still a great deal that she had to learn and understand about the older witch. Moreover, she accepted that it would probably take years until she understood everything about her, and that there may be certain things about Bellatrix that always remained a mystery. At the same time, she needed to make it clear that now the war was over and they were actively in a relationship together, that she didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life walking on eggshells around Bellatrix. Sometimes, Bellatrix would have to accept that she couldn’t do as she pleased or have what she wanted, because life was about giving as well as taking.
“I’m not your toy,” Hermione said sharply, standing up for herself. “This is supposed to be an equal relationship, Bellatrix. You need to learn to accept that.”
“Actually, I was under the impression that you were happy to allow me to take control,” Bellatrix snapped. “You said that you would still do as I wanted; the same as before.”
“I think you’ll find that what I said was that I would still be here. There’s a difference,” Hermione pointed out.
“Well I want you here doing as you’re told. I want you to realise that you answer to me forever, because you belong to me,” Bellatrix answered, as if it was the most ordinary request in the world.
Is she serious? How could Bellatrix ever think that Hermione would be ok with living in a cell for the rest of her life, doing as she was instructed? She had only ever been forced to submit to Bellatrix, and would never do so willingly; especially for the rest of her life. Even if Bellatrix was naturally the more dominant one in their relationship, that didn’t mean Hermione was going to roll over and quite literally take the abuse hurled at her. That was not the person she was, or somebody she would ever become. Above all else, that wasn’t normal. An abductor and a captive had that sort of sick bond, not two people who were supposed to be in love, even if it was through an ancient magical love. Even if we used to be abductor and captive.
“Not... not like your slave or someone you can... can order about,” Hermione stammered, nauseated by the implication. “Or cage, for that matter.” Her plan to stand her ground with Bellatrix had gone completely out of the window, for she was entirely thrown by Bellatrix’s latest admission. She couldn’t think clearly, and Hermione didn’t know what to say or do to get through to Bellatrix how very wrong her wishes were.
“Well I don’t want to keep you in a cell anymore, but I do want you to behave yourself,” Bellatrix said casually, as if that made everything ok.
Did Bellatrix really mean that? She wanted to control Hermione in every way possible; she just wouldn’t lock her up anymore? That was twisted, but so like Bellatrix to think such a thing. She had never really had a normal relationship; her marriage with Rodolphus was practically forced on her, and she had spent years devoting her life to Voldemort. The most normal relationship she had was with Narcissa, and even then she still seemed to be the one in charge, especially considering that she was the older sister.
“How can you think I would be ok with you telling me what to do?” Hermione said, her voice shaking. “I didn’t agree to those terms at all.”
“Because that was what I assumed you meant, when you gave your permission for me to be in control,” Bellatrix said coldly. “Just because I want to share my bed with you, it doesn’t mean that I’m happy for you not allow me to make my own decisions.”
“Likewise!” Hermione shot back, her voice slightly hysterical. Don’t cry, don’t cry. “I meant that you would be in control of your own everyday choices, not in control of matters that I feel strongly about!”
“You have no right to force your opinion on me,” Bellatrix snapped.
“Is this about the wand?” Hermione asked desperately. “Because if it’s that important to you, then just take it!” She drew the wand from her own pocket, and threw it towards Bellatrix. It landed at her feet, where she stood opposite her in the sitting room. Hermione looked down at it, her blood was boiling with rage, sickness, and every other horrible feeling that Bellatrix managed to draw out of her.
“This isn’t just about the wand,” Bellatrix responded, a hiss in her voice.
“Last night then?” Hermione tried again, referring to her reluctance and eventual refusal to be intimate with Bellatrix for the first time. “You really do have a problem with waiting for me to...”
“No!” Bellatrix interrupted. “I accepted that! You behaved as I imagined you should, waiting for me to call you on your behaviour, and allowing me to practically make the decision for you. That was fine. Now however, you are trying to tell me what to do, and that, sweetheart, is what I have a problem with. I don’t take orders from somebody like you!”
Hermione understood in that moment what exactly was going on. Bellatrix was not angry with her because she was trying to take her wand from her, she was angry because someone she deemed as less worth as a witch than herself was telling her what to do. Hermione’s blood status was still a huge problem for Bellatrix no matter what she claimed, and despite the fact that she stated Hermione was an exception to her general beliefs. No, this was so much more than just Bellatrix throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t accept Hermione’s instructions because she wouldn’t allow herself to take orders from just another Mudblood.
Hermione made a decision. Voicing her thoughts aloud, she said in a surprisingly strong voice, “If you can’t accept that as a Muggle-born I should be equal to you, then this relationship is never going to work.”
Bellatrix laughed horribly. “You won’t leave, because like it or not, you need me, Mudblood.”
There it was; that hurtful name. Hermione resolved not to retaliate with her own insult, knowing that Bellatrix had said it to provoke a reaction out of her.
“And you need me too,” Hermione said instead, as calmly as possible. “But let me tell you something; you need me far more than I need you. I have friends, support, a positive reputation within the wizarding community. You have your sister and nephew, and not a whole lot else. You’re hated, Bellatrix, and I’m the only one who can help to change people’s perceptions of you.”
Before she knew it, Bellatrix had crossed the room and gripped her by the throat. “You dare to turn your back on me now and I will kill you. And don’t think I won’t, because if you walk away, believe me, the anger I feel towards you will far overcome any feelings I may have.”
Refusing to allow herself to be scared, (for less than twenty-four hours ago she had fought to defeat the greatest Dark Wizard of all time) Hermione held her head up high, and said in as resolute a voice as she could muster considering that Bellatrix was constricting her airway, “Then kill me.”
“Excuse me?” Bellatrix said, taken aback. She loosened her grip on Hermione’s neck ever so slightly.
“Kill me,” Hermione repeated. “Because you will have nothing. You will be thrown into Azkaban and never released. You won’t even have the option of trying to turn to Voldemort, because guess what? He’s dead.” She glanced down at Bellatrix’s left forearm, where the Dark Mark had almost faded, to back up her statement.
Breathing hard, Bellatrix stared at her. She spat venomously, “I hate you.”
“I hate you too,” Hermione said with as much force as she could muster, ignoring the shooting pain in her neck from where Bellatrix held her. “Unfortunately, I also love you. Let go of me, Bella.”
For several seconds, Bellatrix seemed to have an internal struggle with herself. If she released Hermione then it would be like she was allowing her to win, but if she kept hold of her, she would achieve nothing. Choosing the latter would mean hurting Hermione so badly that she left, or killing her, in which case she would lose anyway. Smart enough to realise that would be her worst option, Bellatrix let go of Hermione, standing backwards, apparently shocked at how far she had let things get, and her own behaviour.
Knowing that now was not the time to fight with Bellatrix or to be angry with her for behaving in the only way she knew how to, Hermione bravely stepped towards her once more. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Bellatrix, pulling the shorter witch’s head against her collarbone, and gently holding her in place there. “I won’t leave you, I promise. All you have to do in return is value me as a person.”
Bellatrix remained silent, keeping her head buried against Hermione. Briefly, Hermione wondered if she was crying, showing weakness, but somehow, she didn’t imagine that Bellatrix was capable of such emotions yet, if at all. Still, on the off chance that she was wrong, she allowed Bellatrix to hide her face from view, knowing that she needed a private moment when she could listen to Hermione without being judged for the expression on her face.
“You can have the wand when I have a new one, Bellatrix, but please don’t use it. Just do this one tiny thing for me. I know you’ve already done so much, but I’ve risked a lot for you too. And if you promise to start trying to see me as your equal,, then I’ll help people to understand that they don’t need to hate you, or Narcissa or Draco. It’s going to be tough for the next few months, but I promise that things will change. The one thing about the Order is that they forgive a hell of a lot more easily than Voldemort did,” Hermione told her. “It’ll be ok.”
“I won’t use the wand,” Bellatrix mumbled into Hermione’s chest. “And I’ll try for you.”
Relieved and grateful, Hermione smiled. She placed a kiss atop Bellatrix’s head, the witch’s raven curls tickling her skin as she lowered her mouth. “Good,” she said softly. “Are you ready to look at me yet?”
Bellatrix lifted her head, and Hermione noted that there was no sign of tears. However, there was a vulnerability in Bellatrix’s eyes that Hermione had barely ever witnessed, and she reminded herself to tread carefully and to take the chance to nurture the good in Bellatrix whilst she could. For this reason, she slowly drew their mouths together, and sucked on Bellatrix’s bottom lip. She swirled her tongue around Bellatrix’s, hoping to distract the raven haired beauty entirely from the intense argument that had just taken place. This was the proof she offered to Bellatrix that she wasn’t angry, and that things were going to be ok between them, even after Bellatrix had hurt her.
Eventually, Hermione hoped that one day Bellatrix would never want to attack her again, and that she was entirely capable of change. Wrong or right, she chose not to see it as abuse; at least, not in the conventional form. Reward and punishment was all that Bellatrix had ever known; she didn’t know what it was just to fight and make up. It would be down to Hermione to teach her that.
It was a knock on the door that forced Hermione to part from Bellatrix, and distracted her from the argument entirely. “Do you know who that could be?” she asked, a little breathless.
Bellatrix nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing her hair back from her face. “The Longbottom boy. When you were in the Headmaster’s office last night, he cornered me and demanded that I carry out my promise to him that I would show him Rodolphus’s memory of the night his parents were tortured.”
Hermione gawped. “Is he really up to that so soon?”
With a shrug, Bellatrix pulled away from Hermione entirely, and walked out into the hallway. “Not my concern. He wanted to see the memory as soon as possible, and I want to get this over with. Besides, the Ministry are going to be examining the memories I have shortly, to check they haven’t been tampered with or altered, so it may be the only chance I get to show him for a while.”
As Bellatrix opened the door and stood back to allow Neville entry, Hermione tried not to look too shocked at Bellatrix’s politeness towards Neville. In turn, he looked wary, and there was still hatred in his eyes as he gazed at Bellatrix. Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything offensive, and just followed her up the stairs quietly, and towards the library where Hermione knew the Pensieve to be. Walking behind, Hermione followed, under the assumption that her presence would help to keep Neville calm, especially as they reached the library, and walked towards the cabinet containing vials of memories.
Hermione couldn’t help staring around in wonderment at all of the books she was surrounded by, for this was the first time she had entered the library. Although she imagined many of the books to relate to the Dark Arts considering the family that Bellatrix had come from, there were more than likely many interesting reads that hopefully she would be privileged enough to read someday soon. It was hard for her to focus on the current situation, so distracted was she by being surrounded with one of her many loves; books of all shapes and sizes.
“Are you ready?” Bellatrix asked, getting straight down to business. She poured the memory into the Pensieve, waiting for Neville to enter.
Neville nodded, his face white. As of yet he hadn’t spoken a single world to either Bellatrix or Hermione, and he looked terrified at what he was about to witness. Hermione didn’t blame him in the slightest.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked him gently.
Neville considered her offer. “I... I don’t know.” His voice sounded smaller than it usually did, making him sound like a little boy.
Noticing Bellatrix opening her mouth, Hermione realised that she looked as though she was about to say something rude. Shooting her a warning look over Neville’s shoulder, Hermione was relieved when she snapped her jaw closed again. Evidently, she was beginning to learn.
“Well, how about I come with you, and then I’ll just stay silent?” Hermione suggested. “I’ll move into the background so you won’t even know I’m there.”
Neville nodded. “Ok. That sounds... that’s ok.”
Hermione squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of support. “Let’s go then.”
**
November 1981
Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Junior stood silently outside the property, wands drawn. Without uttering a word, they seemed to agree silently on the plan of action, and with one swift swipe from Rabastan, the door flew open, and the group entered. They ran into the kitchen, taking the Longbottom’s by surprise as they were eating their dinner. The unarmed Aurors were powerless to fight as they were magically restrained, for they weren’t in possession of their wands. Frightened, they whimpered on the floor as the three Death Eaters circled them, wands drawn and pointed directly at them. The only part of their bodies that Frank and Alice were able to move were their heads, and so they turned to gaze at each other silently, a terrified look in their eyes.
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rodolphus asked sharply, looking as though he was in no mood for games.
There was no reply.
“I’ll ask you again,” Rodolphus said, growing impatient. “Where is the Dark Lord?”
“We... we don’t know. He’s dead,” Frank denied, panting.
Rodolphus didn’t waste any more time at all. “Crucio!” he yelled, watching as Frank writhed in pain. “Tell us!”
“Stop, please!” Alice shouted, pleading for her husband. “We don’t know! We don’t know!”
“Lies!” Barty screeched, echoing Rodolphus. “Tell us the truth!”
“Please! Please, we don’t know,” Alice repeated, and she cried out as she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, just as her husband had been.
Rabastan, Rodolphus and Barty took it in turns to repeat the same question over and over, and when they were given the same reply, they continued to use the same curse. By far, the most skilled at performing the curse was Rodolphus, and so he took charge of the situation. Unfortunately, the Death Eater’s didn’t appear to be getting anywhere fast, and so Rodolphus decided to take things further. Wordlessly, he looked at Barty and Rabastan, watching as they nodded their head, apparently aware of his intentions. It seemed that they had already discussed what they would do if the Longbottom’s wouldn’t help them, and now it was time to kick things up a notch.
“Now,” Rodolphus said.
“CRUCIO!” All three yelled, pointed their wands at Alice. They watched as Frank screamed, begging for his wife, but it made no difference to them at all if he didn’t like their actions.
Unlike her husband, Alice didn’t waste any breath screaming. Instead, she tightly closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath. The Death Eaters didn’t appear to have any idea what she was saying, and didn’t particular care unless it was useful information for them. Unfortunately it looked as though neither of the Longbottoms’ were going to tell them anything they needed to know, and so really, they were causing pain and suffering for the sake of it with only the smallest chance of learning the information they wanted.
Just as Rodolphus had signalled to the others that it was time to end the curse for the moment, there was a cry from upstairs, Rodolphus wheeled around. “What was that?”
“N-nothing,” Alice stammered, shooting a terrified glance at her husband.
Rodolphus was no fool, however. “Watch them,” he ordered, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He entered the first room he passed, and discovered a baby in a cot, crying. Grinning at his new bargaining tool, he roughly pulled the baby upwards and ran back down the stairs with him.
“Look what I found,” he said.
“What are we supposed to do with that?” Rabastan asked, looking disgusted. “Put it back where you found it, brother. You don’t know where these filthy, animalistic freaks have been with it! They could have been socialising with Muggles for all we know.”
At once, Rodolphus dangled Neville, dropping him on the floor heavily. He landed on his backside with a thud, and cried out immediately after his body connected with the floor.
“Not Neville, please,” Alice interrupted, begging and crying heavily. “He’s just a baby. Please, no!”
Seeing that his mother was crying, Neville too began to cry harder. “Mama... mama...” he said through his tears, repeating the word over and over.
“It’s ok Neville, it’s ok my darling,” Alice sobbed, trying to compose herself for his sake. She turned back to Rodolphus and said angrily, “Can’t you see he’s upset? He’s just a baby; leave him alone!”
Rodolphus knelt down next to her. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your brat.” Murmuring, he flicked his wand, once more inflicting the Cruciatus Curse, glancing over at Neville every now and then to smirk at his reaction, and the fact that he was bashing his tiny little fists on the floor.
Copying Rodolphus, Rabastan began to perform the same curse on Frank, and together they stood, allowing the curse to go on for several minutes before they stopped. Barty had started to get twitchy, and was looking out of the window, on the lookout for Aurors.
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rabastan repeated. “Tell us, and we will make your death quick and painless. We’ll even spare the boy.”
“We... we would tell you if we knew,” Frank said, using all his strength to talk over Neville’s crying. “All we have been told is that he is dead. Please... our son... Neville...”
Neville screamed even louder at the look on his father’s face.
“It’s ok son... it’s ok. Me and mummy... we love you,” Frank said, trying to reach out to Neville.
“Yes darling, we love you so very much,” Alice repeated, still sobbing, attempting to shuffle closer to Neville.
The binding jinx you used has worn off,” Rabastan said to Rodolphus quietly. “They’re moving again.”
“It doesn’t matter; neither of them have the energy left to fight,” Rodolphus replied, casually flicking his wand and causing Frank to shriek in pain.
Over the next hour the Cruciatus Curse was used again and again, with Neville crying manically for his parents. The Death Eaters did nothing to placate him, leaving Neville to crawl around his parents alone, who kept talking to him, despite the constant pain they were in, They ignored all questions from the Death Eaters, instead preferring to tell their son that it was going to be ok, and that he had nothing to worry about. Each time his mother spoke to him, Neville would grasp her hand, only for it to be torn away as the Cruciatus Curse hit her once more. The pattern was beginning to get repetitive, and everyone involved knew that soon the scene would draw to a close.
“They’re not budging,” Rodolphus said, breathing heavily. “Well, if that’s the way you want to play it.”
Alice mumbled something incoherent, her eyes closed. Neville clung onto her hand next to her, his head resting against her arm.
Walking towards Alice, Rodolphus kicked her out of the way, and dragged Neville backwards on the floor, ignoring his shrieks. “Maybe if the life of your son is at stake, you’ll take us a little more seriously.”
There was nothing but silence from both Frank and Alice Longbottom.
“No? Well then,” Rodolphus hissed, and he raised his wand.
“Rodolphus!” A female voice called, all three of the Death Eaters turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange walk into the room. She sneered down at the Longbottoms. “What are you doing?”
“The child,” Rodolphus said. “If we kill the child, maybe they’ll talk.”
Bellatrix looked down at Alice Longbottom, who was now curled in a ball moaning, and Frank Longbottom who was staring vacantly drool coming out of his mouth. “They’re not capable of speech at all! What did you do?!” She stared at the other Death Eaters, anger reflected in her features.
“Cruciatus Curse,” Rodolphus said gruffly. “You use it all the time to...”
“Fool!” Bellatrix shrieked, and she waved her wand to send Rodolphus flying backwards into Barty and Rabastan, where the three crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Consistent and constant use will render the individuals it is performed on incoherent and brain damaged! How are we ever going to find the Dark Lord now?!” Enraged, there was another bang as she flicked her wand, and Rodolphus cried out in pain.
Rodolphus mumbled, “If we use the child...”
“No,” Bellatrix interjected sharply. “It is a lost cause! Don’t you see the state they are in? Using the child will achieve nothing!”
“Then let’s just kill the child out of revenge,” Rodolphus suggested, beginning to compose himself. “Teach the wizarding world that this isn’t over.”
“No,” Bellatrix repeated angrily. “They won’t even know we’ve done it... their minds are addled. Our efforts are best spent looking for another trail leading to our Lord.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and scrambling up, the three Death Eaters watched Bellatrix expectantly, waiting for instruction. When none came, Rabastan said in a panicked voice, “It could be Aurors if they suspect something is wrong? But how?”
“Never mind how,” Bellatrix hissed. “It’s time to leave!”
Disregarding her, Rodolphus walked over towards Neville, and raised his wand. “Let me just...”
Hissing, Bellatrix sent him flying backwards against the wall, where his head cracked sickeningly, and he slumped to the floor.
“You bitch!” Rabastan said. “What did you do that for?”
There was another more insistent knock on the door.
“He doesn’t listen!” Bellatrix said furiously. “Come!”
There was a crash.
Throughout, Neville sat quietly, watching his parents. His mum wasn’t crying anymore, and he smiled at her, seemingly not at all worried by her eerily calm state. Bellatrix had her eyes focused on him as all four Death Eaters Disapparated, and then everything faded to white.
**
After exiting the memory, there was silence in the room. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Neville, who slumped onto the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at Bellatrix yet, not after seeing the memory. It was true, Bellatrix hadn’t participated, but merely seeing that she had been part of such a horrendous attack was enough to sicken Hermione. It was worse after seeing what Neville’s parents had gone through and how they had suffered despite genuinely not knowing anything about Voldemort’s whereabouts.
“What happened after you had gone?”
Neville had asked the question in a fairly neutral tone, but he still stared ahead of him, as though in shock.
“We tried to run,” Bellatrix said. There was no note of anger, irritability, upset or happiness in her voice. Like Neville, she sounded impassive. “But the Aurors caught sight of us just before we Disapparated, and quickly caught up with us. I assume they took your parents straight to St. Mungo’s.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Neville asked, sounding eerily calm.
“It wouldn’t have achieved anything,” Bellatrix replied with a shrug.
“Since when did that bother you?” There was now a hint of agitation in Neville’s voice, as though he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and coming out of the trance he seemed to be in.
Bellatrix moved towards Neville, and sat on the floor opposite him. She didn’t look sympathetic, but she seemed willing enough to talk to him. Although surprised, Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. She would stay out of this unless Neville brought her into it, or the situation became too tense and it seemed that Bellatrix and Neville may start to duel. It seemed like a possibility, especially considering the current state that Neville was in. He was still facing forward as though he was a Hogwarts statue, and hadn’t even attempted to brush away the tears that were steadily leaking down his face.
“You are a pure-blood. As you have already witnessed yourself, the Dark Lord is... was... reluctant to kill pure-bloods. He would only do so if absolutely needed, and it wasn’t necessary to kill you. It is exactly why he gave you the option to support him whilst at the Battle yesterday; he genuinely would have allowed you to become a servant if you had sworn your loyalty to him,” Bellatrix revealed. “Besides, Draco was your age at the time, and had I done anything to harm you, Narcissa would never have forgiven me. She never did like violence against babies and children, and she’s the only person I cared about at the time so...”
“Wait,” Neville interrupted. “Why don’t I remember any of that? Even Harry has some flashbacks, but with me, there’s nothing!”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because yours is a normal memory and you didn’t possess the connection that Potter does... did... with the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix answered.
“Oh,” Neville replied. Then, blinking, he seemed to remember where he was and aware of the way he was acting, he stood shakily. He turned to Hermione, who watched him worriedly, not knowing if he was going to be ok or not. Seeming to sense this, Neville gave her a platonic hug, and upon drawing away, he said, “I’m going. I... I need to be on my own before I explain to Gran what I’ve just seen. I’ll see you soon, I suppose.”
Hermione nodded sympathetically. “Do you want me to go home with you and take you to your grandmother?”
Neville shook his head. “No, no. I’ll be fine.” As if he had suddenly remembered that Bellatrix was in the room, he faced her, and wiped his expression of emotion. “I still hate you, Bellatrix. You knew what was happening to my parents, even if you didn’t take part or intend for them to end up in the state they are today. But at the same time, in a twisted sort of way, I owe my life to you. I wish I didn’t, but I do and nothing will change that. You saved me at the Battle, and you saved me when I was a baby.”
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to all of this?”
“The point is that if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you. I feel like... like I have closure, now. I’ve never heard my parents say they loved me, not once. Now though, I’ve heard it for myself, and I know that even though they were losing their minds, their only concern was for me,” Neville added, his voice breaking.
“I’ll be happy to stay away from you,” Bellatrix declared. “So we’ll probably never have to have another conversation again.”
“No, we won’t,” Neville said, agreeing. “But you should know that if you do anything to hurt Hermione, it isn’t just Ron and Harry you have to worry about, it’ll be me too.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, Longbottom, but I don’t intend on doing anything to her,” Bellatrix snapped, though Hermione couldn’t help remembering the way Bellatrix had treated her today before Neville’s arrival. Nevertheless, she kept quiet, knowing now was not the time or place to dispute Bellatrix’s statement. “Shall I see you out?” she added, effectively ending the conversation.
“No; I’ll see myself out,” Neville refused. He gave Hermione a small wave, which she returned, before leaving the library.
Not disputing Neville’s choice, Bellatrix watched him leave the library silently. For her part, Hermione too was unable to speak, processing what she had just watched inside the memory of Rodolphus. She could understand how Neville felt as though he had closure by seeing his parents’ last moments of sanity, and how it would have helped him to know that they really did love him. On the other hand, she focused on what she had seen in Bellatrix’s face as she looked down at the Longbottoms; pure venom. It scared her to think that even now, Bellatrix didn’t care about what had happened to them, she didn’t regret it at all.
“Of course I regret it,” Bellatrix said.
“What?” Hermione said, and then realised Bellatrix had been inside her mind again without her realising. “Stop getting into my head! Wait... what? You regret it?”
“The Longbottoms knew nothing. The others had just taken away the brilliant minds of two pure-bloods for no reason at all, and Rodolphus was too stupid to realise along the way what he was doing. Had I been there, I would have realised immediately, and I would have been able to prevent them from doing the damage they did,” Bellatrix elaborated.
“You wouldn’t have let them go free,” Hermione stated.
“No,” Bellatrix said. “I would probably have tried to persuade them of the benefits of supporting the Dark Lord instead.”
Hermione stared. She didn’t have the energy or the inclination to explain to Bellatrix exactly what was wrong with her reasoning, and so she let the comment pass without comment.
“I wouldn’t have tortured them in front of their child, either,” Bellatrix continued. “I didn’t say anything just now because I couldn’t bear trying to be nice to him anymore than I already had, but between us, he must have that memory inside him on some level. It just traumatises him so much that he can’t face it as he’s blocked it from his mind.”
There was still one thing that Hermione needed to know, however. “Why would you care about someone else’s baby?” she asked curiously.
“I happen to like babies,” Bellatrix said, defensiveness in her voice. “Just because I don’t have any children it doesn’t mean that I hate them.”
“I guess I just assumed that because you don’t have any...” Hermione’s voice trailed off, but the insinuation hung in the room, unspoken, but heavy on the atmosphere.
“I don’t have any children for obvious reasons,” Bellatrix said. Hermione assumed that she must have looked blank, because in an irritated tone of voice, Bellatrix added, “One, I was entirely repulsed every time Rodolphus attempted to touch me, and two, pregnancy was the last thing on my mind whilst I was serving the Dark Lord. It doesn’t mean that I hate all children; some are entirely pleasant to have around. Such as the quiet ones.”
“Right.”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed. “Yes? Did you have something to say on the matter?”
Hermione shook her head. Apparently, she was never going to understand Bellatrix. Just when she thought she must know all there was to figure out about her, the older witch went and said something else that was surprising. The idea of Bellatrix actually liking children had never occurred to her, mainly because she didn’t have any of her own. Whatever the case, Hermione was not going to press Bellatrix any further, as considering everything that had already happened before lunch on their first day together, it would be nice to spend the rest of the day relaxing. Therefore Hermione chose to accept Bellatrix’s answer, and summoned the courage to pick a book at random from one of the shelves behind her. With a smile on her face, she took a seat on one of the armchairs and curled her legs up to read peacefully, for the first time in what felt like forever.
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 23. ))