FIC: Impossible (27/30)
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), (19), (20), (21), (22), (23), (24), (25), (26)
**
I'm free to say whatever I
Whatever I like
If it’s wrong or right it’s alright
Oasis, Whatever
**
27.
After a short nap and taking some time to write a reply to Harry’s letter, Hermione was refreshed enough to go to Diagon Alley. She approached Bellatrix with a tentative smile, and was relieved when Bellatrix didn’t mention the argument between them or the article either, instead announcing straight away that they should Floo to Diagon Alley. Surprisingly, it seemed that the older witch had taken the article fairly well in the grand scheme of things; apparently the fight they had gotten into had reminded her of where her priorities should lie. It was still likely that Bellatrix would be extremely angry if confronted by another witch or wizard, but with some luck she would be able to stop herself from doing physical harm to people if Hermione was there to keep her calm. Of course, there was always the possibility that then she would turn on Hermione, but after what had already happened between them that very day, Hermione doubted it very much.
The visit to Gringotts proceeded fairly smoothly, and if the goblins remembered Hermione posing as Bellatrix and breaking into their beloved bank, they didn’t try to apprehend her or comment on the fact that she was accompanied by the real Bellatrix. Hermione supposed that the Ministry must have stepped in and told them that it was unnecessary, because despite every illegal act she had committed over the past year along with Harry and Ron, she hadn’t been questioned about anything. Being one third of the trip responsible for the demise of Voldemort had its’ benefits, no doubt, although Hermione also imagined that it was due to the fact that as Minister for Magic, Kingsley was fair and just. After all, hadn’t Bellatrix’s freedom happened because of his own proposal to the Ministry?
Unfortunately, their luck didn’t last long, for the second they stepped out of Gringotts and into the street, Hermione came face to face with Hagrid. She’d barely seen him this past year, and had only caught fleeting glances of him during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he still looked the same as always. Despite the look of thunder on his face as he caught sight of Bellatrix, Hermione happily greeted him, hoping to keep things as friendly as possible. “Hagrid! It’s so good to see you.”
Hermione wasn’t stupid; it was obvious that Hagrid realised that she was in a relationship with Bellatrix. After the Daily Prophet had printed a story stating they were together, there was no way they could hide it from anyone unless they were a complete recluse! Her best hope was that people would still see her as the Hermione they knew; if she had changed at all then it was because of the war and her experiences, not because Bellatrix had asked her to. All she could do was to act as normally as possible and hope for the best. With a bit of luck, Hagrid wouldn’t even comment on it. Yeah, right.
“You too, Hermione,” Hagrid said gruffly, and though he was a little standoffish, he didn’t appear to be angry with her. “Wish the same could be said fer you, Lestrange.”
“Call me Black,” Bellatrix snapped, correcting him. “Or Bellatrix. Or anything except Lestrange.”
“I’ll call yeh whatever I ruddy well feel like!” Hagrid exclaimed.
“Or Madam Black,” Bellatrix suggested, ignoring Hagrid. She gestured towards Hermione, smirking. “And then she can be Madam Black’s bitch. What do you think, hmm?”
Wrong move, Hermione thought, as Hagrid exploded. He looked fierce as he roared, “I don’t know what yer playin’ at, but if yeh dare do anything to Hermione I’ll kill yeh meself! She’s just a girl!”
Hermione got the impression that Hagrid thought she was being forced into a relationship with Bellatrix against her will. The main reason she suspected this was because he appeared to bear no animosity towards her and instead threw all of his fury at Bellatrix. She supposed that from an outsider’s perspective it was a reasonable assumption to make, not least because of her age. Although she was an adult in both the wizarding world and the Muggle world, people would still judge the age gap between herself and Bellatrix. Hermione understood entirely, because had it been Ron or Harry in love with Bellatrix instead of herself, she probably would have been horrified beyond belief.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, looking bored. “You’ll have to join the queue... there are already several people who are in line before you.”
“Bellatrix,” Hermione said in a low voice, warningly. She really didn’t want to be the centre of a huge drama in the middle of Diagon Alley if an all-out argument started between Bellatrix and Hagrid. Turning her attention back to Hagrid, she said, “Are you doing anything nice before term starts again?”
“Spending time with Olympe,” Hagrid replied, his eyes still fixed on Bellatrix, and his giant hands clenching at his sides in an obvious attempt to keep calm. “Are yeh coming back to Hogwarts then?”
Hermione nodded, ignored the surprised look from Bellatrix. Thankfully, the older witch kept her mouth shut, evidently realising that now wasn’t the time or the place to call her on it.
“Glad to hear it,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “Yer welcome to pop over ‘fore term starts... though I’ll be busy makin’ a lot o’ repairs after the state the Death Eaters left it in. Least it didn’t get burnt ‘gen I s’pose.” He shot Bellatrix a nasty look as he said this, referring to the night of Dumbledore’s death when she had set fire to his hut whilst his dog, Fang, was still inside.
However, Bellatrix appeared to be entirely unfazed by Hagrid’s words. Grinning, she said, “Ah, that’s all water under the bridge now, Hagrid!”
“No it ruddy well isn’t!” Hagrid said indignantly, his round face turning from a shade of red to purple fury. “Yeh nearly killed Fang, yeh evil woman!”
Considering this accusation, Bellatrix gave what she evidently imagined to be a justified and kind response, as she said casually, “Well, he didn’t actually die, did he? So that’s all alright.”
“Bellatrix!” Hermione said, horrified.
Shrugging, Bellatrix cast another look towards Hermione. “It’s the truth.”
“We’d better go, Hagrid,” Hermione said nervously, because Hagrid was clutching the pink umbrella containing pieces of his snapped wand in his hand angrily, looking as though he was about to attack. Judging by the way he was shaking and his lack of speech, he was more enraged than he had been at the start of their conversation. “I’ll see you soon.”
Grabbing onto Bellatrix, Hermione pulled her away before Hagrid could form a reply. She kept her mouth shut as she didn’t want to provoke Bellatrix’s wrath in public, not knowing if any reporters were lurking around or secretly following them. Eventually, the drama would die down, but for the moment it was something she would have to be prepared for just in case. Now that Diagon Alley was safe once again, it was far more packed, and so many people stared at herself and Bellatrix, hardly able to believe their eyes judging by the fear and horror displayed on their faces.
“I don’t know what they’re staring at,” Bellatrix said, irritated. “I’m sure they’re doing it just to try and force me into cursing them.”
“Well don’t give them the satisfaction then,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. Keep her calm, keep her calm...
“Easy for you to say,” Bellatrix muttered. “Come, I want to finish shopping and leave immediately.”
“What broomstick are you getting?” Hermione asked. She didn’t care, but she was trying to distract Bellatrix from the staring, not wanting to see her lover unleash her fury. An attempt at light-hearted conversation was all she could think to do considering that they were surrounded by too many people for other more effective means of keeping Bellatrix in a good mood. Hermione would have tried whispering flirtatious promises of what was to come later for Bellatrix if she behaved herself, but she had visions of Bellatrix attempting to act them out in public. Whilst Hermione acknowledged that it was possible for Bellatrix to be too much of a proud pure-blood to show affection for a Muggle-born in public, it was still a risk that she wasn’t willing to take. The last thing she needed was for a photograph of Bellatrix attempting to tongue her to end up on the front of the Daily Prophet.
“The latest Firebolt model,” Bellatrix replied, still throwing filthy looks at anyone who dared to look at her in the wrong way, whether through fear or disgust.
“Isn’t that expensive?” Hermione commented. She struggled to see why Bellatrix would need a broom of such a high quality when she didn’t even like to play Quidditch.
Bellatrix shrugged. “I can afford it, and it’s what I want.”
Assuming that it was just another of Bellatrix’s peculiar decisions, Hermione didn’t attempt to question her again. Instead, she allowed Bellatrix to lead the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, following quickly as she wanted to get home as soon as possible. She agreed with Bellatrix in that she didn’t want to spend long in Diagon Alley, knowing that the more time they were in public, the more chance there was of someone else confronting them. The day hadn’t exactly been great for Hermione ever since she had opened that bloody letter from Harry, and so she had no desire to face the wrath of other wizards and witches who would make the day even worse.
Bellatrix didn’t bother to look around; she merely sauntered up to the counter and requested the latest Firebolt. Bored, Hermione began looking at all the Quidditch related books in the store in an attempt to keep herself amused. Flying was something she really didn’t enjoy, and although she wasn’t the appalling flyer that she was during her first year at Hogwarts, she wasn’t anywhere near good either. It didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, and so whenever Ron and Harry were raving about how amazing flying was, Hermione usually switched off and read a book instead. The boys thought she was mad for choosing books over flying and Quidditch, but being a bookworm was something she did perfectly well, thank you very much.
Mercifully, Bellatrix didn’t face any awkwardness from the small, blonde girl who served her, as judging by the look on her face, she was far too terrified to say anything at all. Attempting to reassure her, Hermione smiled at her when Bellatrix wasn’t looking, if only to make her feel a little better. Hermione fully understood why people reacted the way they did towards Bellatrix considering her reputation, and the newspaper article certainly hadn’t helped. The Daily Prophet article had done some good by claiming that Bellatrix was now considered innocent of the crimes she had long been accused of, but not everyone was suddenly going to believe it after so many years had passed.
The next stop was Eeylop’s Owl Emporium so that Bellatrix could buy herself an owl. After much consideration, she eventually settled on a large, black-as-the-night-sky owl with a curved, sharp beak. Her eyes were a bright amber, mesmerising in an inexplicable way, which because obvious the moment Hermione made eye contact with her. There was no doubt that she was a beautiful owl, standing proudly on her perch, and looking calmly at Bellatrix and Hermione.
“I want that one,” Bellatrix announced to the young boy behind the counter, as Hermione gathered everything she needed to care for Crookshanks once she had picked him up from the Weasleys, like blankets, toys and treats. “And whatever supplies are necessary to look after her.”
Averting his eyes, the young boy set about preparing the owl, not daring to look Bellatrix’s way. He didn’t even ask whether she had owned an owl before, if she knew how to look after them, or make any attempt to try and engage in friendly conversation with her. Amazingly, he seemed even more frightened than the girl from Quality Quidditch Supplies had been, judging by his shaking hand.
Taking pity on him and seeing an opportunity to do something nice for Bellatrix at the same time, Hermione placed her own shopping on the counter, and whispered to Bellatrix out of the shop assistant’s earshot, “Why don’t you take her outside, and I’ll pay?”
Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest, “But...”
“Go,” Hermione said firmly, praying that Bellatrix didn’t take this the wrong way. “I want to buy her for you. Why don’t you take her outside and try to think of a name whilst I finish here?” It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it, after all. Her own vault at Gringotts was pretty full considering how little money she had spent over the past year, and the prior generosity of her parents.
Speechless, Bellatrix left, staring at Hermione in wonderment and barely paying any attention to the owl in the cage that she held. It was obvious to Hermione that she didn’t know how to say thank you for a gift, so unfamiliar was she with being given anything.
“How much is that?” Hermione asked, smiling at the boy behind the counter.
For several seconds he stared at her, his blue eyes fixated on her own. His expression looked calmer than before, though his hand still shook, Hermione noted, as he ran a hand through the blonde curls on his head. “How can you bear to be anywhere near her?” he asked, ignoring Hermione’s question.
“I... what?” Hermione replied frowning.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” He spat. “She’s tortured countless Muggles and Muggle-borns. What makes you think she’s changed?”
“I’m a Muggle-born, and she doesn’t torture me,” Hermione justified in a quiet voice, choosing to ignore the memories of when Bellatrix had done exactly that to her. “I know she’s done horrible things, but everyone deserves a second chance.”
“I think you’re insane for trusting her!” the boy exclaimed. “You should be sticking by the rest of us Muggle-borns, not siding with a maniac.”
Realising that trying to convince him would be futile, Hermione said as politely as possible, “I would like to pay now.”
After paying, she left the shop in a hurry, grateful that the blonde boy did not continue to verbally abuse Bellatrix to her, and instead completed the transaction in silence. Regardless of how upset she felt, she vowed not to tell Bellatrix of the exchange, knowing that she would be so angry she may even seek him out to confront him herself. In turn, that would only make people distrust her even more when they found out that she had argued with or perhaps even cursed a Muggle-born. Instead, Hermione tried to put it out of her mind, telling herself that as time went on, Bellatrix would be accepted once more. If she could control herself, show others she wasn’t a threat and was remorseful for her actions (even if she wasn’t) then people would stop staring and judging her every time they set eyes on her. Some would still be likely to talk behind closed doors , but as neither Bellatrix or herself would have to deal with that, it wasn’t something Hermione wasn’t overly concerned about.
Arriving back at Bellatrix’s by Floo, Hermione walked down the hallway with Bellatrix after leaving the library. Technically they could have used the Floo Network to travel directly to the sitting room, as Bellatrix had informed her that the fireplace in the sitting room was also connected to the network. However, she had also added that for inexplicable reasons her parents had always preferred to use the fireplace in the library, and Bellatrix had always done the same, not finding it to be a problem. The only time the sitting room fireplace was used was if a stranger or acquaintance requested a visit, and were not permitted to enter through the upstairs library. Another odd Black family rule.
On the way to the sitting room after dropping off the owl in one of the upstairs tower rooms, Hermione glanced at the familiar portraits which were still unmoving. Curiosity peaked once more, and she took the opportunity to ask Bellatrix about them whilst she remembered. “Why don’t any of the portraits move?”
Bellatrix made a face. “I took down the portraits of my mother, father, and various other ancestors after they overheard our discussion in the hallway a few months ago after you came back to visit.”
“Why?” Hermione asked, though she already had an inkling as to the reasoning for this.
“Well as you can imagine, they objected to our relationship. I got fed up of them yelling abuse at me every time I went past them,” Bellatrix said, sounding thoroughly irritated.
Worried that Bellatrix was going to take out her frustration on her, Hermione kept quiet. She could only imagine the sort of things that Bellatrix’s parents had yelled; she remembered all too well the offensive names that Sirius’s mother had screeched every opportunity she got. At least Bellatrix had been able to remove her parents’ portraits from the wall; evidently they had trusted their daughters and had felt there was no need for a Permanent Sticking Charm.
There was much about the house that Hermione disliked, mainly the dark objects and lack of bright, vivid colours. Although it was nowhere near as dark as Malfoy Manor, there was still something cold about the house that Hermione wanted to change. Over time she was certain that she would be able to ask Bellatrix to move a few things around and change the wallpaper or floors, but there was absolutely no way after such a short space of time living with her unofficially that she could do such a thing. Besides, it wasn’t her place to say anything, and she supposed there were more important things to be worrying about.
“You know, I should probably blast myself off the tapestry at Grimmauld Place... it’s the first thing my Aunt Walburga would have done,” Bellatrix said as she entered the sitting room, Hermione trailing behind her. “I certainly wouldn’t be considered a member of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in her eyes any longer.”
Still, Hermione didn’t say anything. She got the impression that although Bellatrix was entitled to talk about her family in a derogatory way, there was little chance of herself being afforded the same privilege. There was no real reason for her to think that, but it was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take. Instead, she took a seat next to the older witch, leaning back and resting her head, waiting for Bellatrix to begin talking about something else.
However, it appeared Bellatrix was aware that Hermione was less vocal than usual, for she asked her, “What is the matter?”
“Nothing,” Hermione denied, smiling awkwardly.
“You’re being unusually quiet,” Bellatrix observed. “Have I done something else to upset you?”
Hermione shook her head.
“Is it because I didn’t say thank you for the owl? Because I am happy you bought me it, I was just so surprised I didn’t think to thank you at the time,” Bellatrix said, giving an unneeded explanation after completely misinterpreting Hermione’s silence.
“It’s nothing to do with you not thanking me for the owl; I didn’t expect you to,” Hermione answered truthfully. As it appeared that Bellatrix had no intention of letting the subject go, Hermione decided to do what she did best and be tactfully honest. “I don’t want to comment on your family, because I know that if I say anything inappropriate you’re going to be angry with me.”
“I don’t see what your problem is with my family,” Bellatrix said, surprisingly calm.
Despite Bellatrix’s rational response, Hermione still sensed the potential for this to turn into another fight, and so she racked her brains for a way to diffuse the situation before it ever really got started. It was extremely unlikely that Bellatrix would inflict violence upon her so soon after what she had promised today, but the problem with people like Bellatrix was that there was always a small possibility. For Bellatrix it was a case of “Oops, sorry dearie, didn’t mean that!” as more often than not she just couldn’t comprehend the consequences of her violent behaviour. Nevertheless, if Hermione continued to be unresponsive then Bellatrix would only keep pushing until her temper flared anyway, and so it was tough to know what to do for the best.
“There is no problem,” Hermione clarified. “I didn’t know them, but what I do know is what they believed in, and what they taught you, Narcissa and Andromeda to believe.”
There. That was as much as she was going to reveal. She had put it in such a way so as to express subtle concern for the views that had been thrust upon Bellatrix ever since she was a little girl, knowing enough from off-hand remarks Bellatrix had made, and information from Sirius to comprehend the type of family the Blacks had been. Their hatred of Muggle-borns had contributed to the sort of witches and wizards that Voldemort had preyed on; those who were proud, arrogant and full of their own self-importance. In short, individuals like Bellatrix, who had been so brainwashed that they didn’t stand a chance. Somehow, Andromeda and Sirius had managed to escape it, but Hermione couldn’t help considering that it was a combination of rebellion and personality traits that had allowed them to do this. Judging by Bellatrix’s obsessive need for control, power, but also respect, it was impossible for her to be anything except what she had been moulded into. Of course, her childhood couldn’t be entirely blamed for some of the fault was her own, but that didn’t make her unworthy of a chance to change.
Bellatrix leant towards her, raven curls falling around her face. “Finding fault with my upbringing would be easy, but I won’t. You need to understand that serving the Dark Lord was exhilarating. It made me feel like my life had meaning; I wasn’t just another house-witch, but a Death Eater. I had a purpose. I changed things!”
“You also hurt innocent people,” Hermione reminded her. “Don’t you see, Bellatrix? If you had done what Andromeda had the courage to do and walked away from your family, you could have had everything by now; love, a career, friends and respect. Not from pure-bloods, but from every person that you could have helped in whatever way you chose to do so.”
“That’s what you don’t see,” Bellatrix said adamantly. “I believed in the cause. Even now, despite our connection... I still struggle. Were Semper Amor not involved then I never would have acted upon my feelings; it was utter selfishness that led me to betray the Dark Lord.”
Hermione wasn’t quite sure how they had gone from talking about portraits to discussing Bellatrix’s life and feelings for her. It hurt Hermione to know that Bellatrix would never have been able to openly love her without the ancient love between them. She appreciated Bellatrix’s honesty, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear her confession. Although Hermione possessed enough common sense to allow her to grasp the impact that Semper Amor had on her situation, she had always hoped that Bellatrix would have loved her anyway. It was a silly, ridiculous notion, but all Hermione had wanted since she accepted her feelings for Bellatrix was for the older witch to willingly love her back. Overwhelmed with the realisation that this wasn’t the case, she couldn’t stand to be around Bellatrix right now. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Hermione said, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched, even to her own ears. “I’m uh... not feeling too well. I’m going to lie down again.”
“Hermione,” Bellatrix began. “It’s not that I don’t want-”
“Don’t,” Hermione interrupted. “Please, Bella. I just need to lie down.”
She left quickly before Bellatrix could try and engage her in conversation once more. Maybe it had been immature of her to walk away from a difficult conversation, but she was upset, and also a little worried. There was no guarantee that should Bellatrix build a life for herself that she would stick around to be with Hermione. If she so wished, she could use Hermione to improve her reputation (a fanatical pure-blooded Death Eater in a relationship with a female Muggle-born would do wonders in the long run) and then leave, deciding to tolerate the consequences of Semper Amor.
If Hermione had been a stronger person then she would have walked away before the going got tough, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive without Bellatrix. There would never be another who she felt the same way about and who drew the same reactions from her as Bellatrix did. It was so sodding unfair, because she had always wanted the fairytale wedding and a couple of children, alongside some sort of career where she was able to help people. Instead she had been granted Bellatrix, a completely insane supporter of the Dark Arts and Mudblood hater. That alone was undeserved, but the added inability to ever love anyone else in the way she loved Bellatrix just topped it off. Brilliant.
The despair that Hermione currently felt meant that more than ever she really missed her friends. She wanted Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and Dobby back. Sirius too. So many had suffered and died for everything Bellatrix believed in, took pleasure in, and it was only really hitting her this very moment. Until now she hadn’t really grieved for anyone, hiding away her feelings during every funeral she’d attended because that was what was easier. Living with Bellatrix had meant she couldn’t even come home to grieve, and then she hadn’t really been able to disappear elsewhere because there was nowhere else to go. Her parent’s home was empty and lonely, and it was debateable whether any of her friends would accept her into their home. Besides, it had been an unspoken agreement that she would remain with Bellatrix, the terms of Semper Amor dictating that they should be together whenever possible.
Shutting herself away in the bedroom for the second time that day, Hermione snuggled beneath the sheets to sob quietly.
This time, Bellatrix didn’t come for her.
**
January 1959
Bellatrix was extremely bored. Her younger sisters were absolutely no fun to play with at all! Narcissa just followed her constantly whining, and Andromeda was more interested in playing with her Wizadoll than she was at actually playing games with Bellatrix, even if she was her cool older sister. Therefore, Bellatrix decided that she was going to on a mission to explore the vast rooms of the house whilst her parents were up in the library, and she wandered into the dining room, immediately setting eyes on the candles that lay on the mahogany table.
She ran over to them, wondering if she could set them alight the way that Andromeda had done when she’d become angry whilst they’d all been sat at the table eating dinner. Bellatrix had pulled her hair, and when Andromeda stuck her tongue out in retaliation, she’d been caught by their father who had been most displeased. Her younger sister had been so furious that she had caused the candles to roar to life without meaning to, and had ended up being punished and sent to bed early for being so naughty.
Moving the candles over towards the end of the table, Bellatrix stared at them, willing them to set on fire. Nothing. She tried poking them with her hand. Nothing. Eventually, she was so frustrated that she swung around, spinning in a circle, chanting under her breath “Fire fire fire fire fire” for she didn’t know the spell to make them alight, and besides, she didn’t yet have a wand. All she had to rely on was her uncontrollable magic, and that really was the crux of the matter. This wasn’t something she could control.
Unfortunately, so intent was she on spinning around that she failed to notice herself getting closer to the candles, meaning that the first she was aware of them having fallen was when she heard the resultant crash. Stopping herself, she looked down in horror, dismayed to see that one of the sticks had broken clean in half. What was she supposed to do now? If she was quick enough then she could always summon Lazar, the house-elf, and leave him to deal with it.
“Bellatrix, what are you doing?”
Too late.
Hearing her father’s harsh voice, Bellatrix automatically took a step backwards, biting her lip nervously. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Cygnus said, sounding angrier by the minute. “What have you done to the candles?”
“It was an accident,” Bellatrix said, trying her best to sound sorry. “I didn’t mean to.”
Her protests did no good, and she felt her father grip onto her arm, and throw her up against the wall. She whimpered as her head cracked against the panelling, and she squeezed her eyes shut, seeing stars. Maybe if she kept them shut her father would go away, and she wouldn’t have to look at his bulging eyes, the angry patches on his cheeks anymore. Maybe maybe maybe.
“Stupid girl!” he snarled.
Even when he smacked her across the face, she knew that she couldn’t make a sound, because then he would be even more furious with her. No, if she just stayed quiet then he would tell her to clean up the mess without magic just like a filthy Muggle, and leave her to it. That would be ok then, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t have to worry about any more repercussions. It had only been an accident, and hopefully she wouldn’t be punished too badly. Not like the time she’d broken the heel of her mother’s brand new red, dragon skin boots trying them on, and hadn’t been able to do anything but shuffle in agony for a week after her father had sliced the bottoms of toes in retaliation.
“Clean that up,” he ordered over his shoulder as he left the room. “And ask Lazar to fetch us some new ones.”
Bellatrix did as she was told, scooping the candles into her arms to give to Lazar to dispose of. On her way down to the kitchen, she could hardly believe her eyes when the candles ignited in her arms; even the broken one. Amazed, she stood still, watching the flames flicker and feeling the heat on her arms. She had done it.
In that moment, Bellatrix came to the conclusion that to gain, there usually had to be pain as well.
**
“Hermione?”
Groggily, Hermione opened her eyes. She was vaguely aware of Bellatrix calling her, waking her from the deep sleep she had managed to fall into. Apparently, despite her upset she had still managed to rest without even being aware of herself falling into a slumber. It was amazing when you considered how little she had been doing every day; the most taxing thing she had done lately was to read complex books on the Dark Arts, intrigued by the sorts of material that Bellatrix had grown up surrounded by. Sometimes she missed the constant structure that her days had and the way that she could be in a routine, for she had no real responsibilities at present. Although she knew she should be enjoying herself after her life had almost been destroyed by Voldemort, it was hard when there was so much still hurting her. My murdered loved ones. Ron. Mum and Dad. Need you all back.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, blinking to get used to the light. It didn’t seem too bright, however, which made her wonder what the time was. How long had she even been asleep? Glancing at her watch, she was horrified to see that it was seven o’clock in the evening. Hermione guessed that she had been upstairs for around four hours, probably sleeping for most of that time.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Bellatrix asked tentatively.
Hermione remained facing the opposite direction, not wanting to look at her lover. Every single time she faced Bellatrix’s dark dark eyes, it seemed so much worse when she heard hurtful words. Somehow, she felt like a lesser human being. “No,” she whispered.
“You need to talk to me eventually,” Bellatrix said reasonably. “We are currently living in the same house, after all.”
Hermione swallowed, ignoring the lump in her throat. “Not for much longer... I’ll be going back to Hogwarts soon.”
There was a silence so unbearable that Hermione wondered what Bellatrix thought of this statement. She had brought up the topic of Hogwarts to Hagrid in front of Bellatrix earlier, but she supposed that Bellatrix had forgotten considering everything else going on, or had not even taken her seriously in the first place. From her own perspective, she wanted to finish her N.E.W.T.s so that she could say she had graduated Hogwarts, and to improve her career prospects. It was even more important to her as a Muggle-born to prove that she had achieved something and that she was just as capable of performing magic than any pure-blood, possibly even more talented.
When there was still no response from Bellatrix a couple of minutes later, and all she could hear was the sound of the raven haired witch breathing, Hermione finally turned to face her. Observing her lover, she could see that she was attempting to control her emotions, probably the rage and hatred for not having been consulted burning inside. Hermione allowed her eyes to fall down to Bellatrix’s heaving chest, and she tensed, worried that she was about to erupt.
Finally noticing that she was being watched, Bellatrix roughly choked out, “You can’t.” Unexpectedly, there was panic written all over her face.
“Yes I can, Bellatrix,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want to do my exams and complete my education. Maybe you don’t think I’m worthy of that, but it isn’t your decision to make. I want to return to Hogwarts and I will. End of discussion.”
“I don’t want you to,” Bellatrix said, sounding different. Her voice was strangely nasally, and she didn’t sound vicious in the slightest. “I want you to remain here.”
Hermione shook her head. “No.”
“Please,” Bellatrix said, almost sounding as though she was begging now.
Bewildered, Hermione stared, trying to work out what was going on. After further observation and considering the way Bellatrix had been talking to her, it really didn’t seem as though she was angry. Was she upset? Hermione hadn’t thought it possible for Bellatrix to feel such an emotion. There were no tears, but Bellatrix had balled her hands into a fist shape, and was biting down on her lower lip, as though she was in a battle with herself over whether to say something or not.
Despite the treatment she had received from Bellatrix, Hermione felt herself crumbling. She wasn’t going to give in to Bellatrix’s demand, but she wasn’t going to just sit and watch her suffer like this either. It was evident that whereas most people would just express their emotions or go off on their own to deal with them, Bellatrix was incapable of doing that. The only real emotion she was able to show was anger, explaining why she often went off the handle for little to no reason at all. Hermione had to simultaneously be strong enough to deal with that and also to show her the sympathy and love she deserved.
“I won’t change my mind, Bella. My education is very important for my future, and I need the best N.E.W.T results possible in order to enter the profession of my choice,” Hermione explained, and she was overjoyed to discover that when she shuffled closer to Bellatrix and placed a hand on her arm that she wasn’t pushed away.
“If you go back, we may as well be over,” Bellatrix said, sounding morose, her bottom lip trembling.
Hermione frowned. “How do you work that one out?”
Bellatrix locked eyes with Hermione, her darker brown orbs lazering straight into Hermione’s lighter brown eyes. “I will only see you during holidays, meaning that the time in between will be unbearable. As you reminded me earlier, I have no career, respect or companionship. No purpose in life. What am I going to do?”
Sighing, Hermione leant forward, and gently placed a chaste kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth. “You are going to write to me, speak to me through Floo Powder, meet me for Hogsmeade weekends. You’re going to see your sisters, meet Teddy for the first time... you’re going to be attending your Soul Healer appointments. You have more than enough to be doing, Bella. I promise; you’ll be fine without me.”
“I gave up the Dark Lord for you; why can’t you do this one thing for me?” Bellatrix said, and Hermione realised that she had selfishly been keeping this to herself to play as a trump card, expecting it to be the one reason she provided that Hermione had no answer for. No doubt she imagined that she could manipulate her into doing what she wanted if she tried hard enough, thinking that she was the smarter witch and therefore able to convince Hermione to do whatever she wanted.
She was sorely mistaken, because Hermione already had an answer prepared for her.
“Because you tortured me, Bellatrix, and hurt a lot of people. I won’t give up my education for you, and you shouldn’t ask me to,” Hermione told her.
“I’ll go crazy without you here,” Bellatrix declared desperately winding her thumb around her raven curls, pulling on them madly.
“You’re already crazy,” Hermione said, attempting a joke. It fell flat as Bellatrix just stared at her blankly, now looking even more upset. Trying to cheer her up, Hermione suggested, “We can sneak you in and then sometimes I can sneak back here. I’m not a fan of rule breaking but if it makes you happier...?”
This seemed to perk Bellatrix up a little. “Every week?”
Hermione smiled. “I think that might be too frequent. I’ll have to see what my timetable says and then get back to you. It’s only one year though, remember that. I’ll be back here before you know it.”
Bellatrix didn’t response, staying quiet. It was obvious she still wasn’t placated.
Clutching at straws, Hermione made another suggestion, “You can keep Crookshanks here too if you like.”
“What?” Bellatrix said. “Who’s Crookshanks?”
“He’s my cat that the Weasleys have been looking after for me. I have to pick him up soon and... well he’ll be company, won’t he?” Hermione said brightly. “I’ll miss him whilst I’m at Hogwarts but I’m used to not having him around considering that we’ve spent months apart. You can look after each other for me. I know you haven’t met him yet, but you’ll grow to love each other once you’ve spent time together, I promise.”
Bellatrix looked as if she seriously doubted Hermione’s offer, but made no attempt to protest. “I have no choice but to accept this, do I?” Bellatrix said. “Threatening you will just make you leave?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
“Is that why you’ve been up here alone for hours on end? Because I make you feel threatened?” Bellatrix asked awkwardly, giving Hermione the impression that it wasn’t something she was particularly proud of.
“A little. But... I also wanted to be alone because it hurts that you don’t love me the way I am and that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t love me,” Hermione said sadly. “Not to mention that I miss my friends, and I wish that people I cared about hadn’t died. Everything just feels wrong.”
Bellatrix watched her for a moment or so, before she gestured for Hermione to move closer. Obliging, Hermione did so, resting her head against Bellatrix’s chest, as her lover propped herself up against the headboard. It was a rare moment of genuine affection on Bellatrix’s part, and it made tingles run up and down her spine as Bellatrix started to play with her hair aimlessly.
“I do love you the way you are,” Bellatrix confessed. “And it’s not so much that I wouldn’t love you if I had a choice. Not anymore. It’s more that I feel as though I shouldn’t be allowed to love you.”
“But you still do regardless?” Hermione checked softly.
“Always,” Bellatrix vowed. “As I’ve told you before... you’re not like the other Muggle-borns. You’re my little babe, and you’ll be mine forever.”
Hermione shut her eyes once more as Bellatrix wrapped an arm underneath her breasts, pulling their bodies together. As hard as it was, she forced herself to pretend that she believed Bellatrix’s words were honest, and that her love was unconditional. I love you too.
**
((CLICK HERE for part 28))
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), (19), (20), (21), (22), (23), (24), (25), (26)
**
I'm free to say whatever I
Whatever I like
If it’s wrong or right it’s alright
Oasis, Whatever
**
27.
After a short nap and taking some time to write a reply to Harry’s letter, Hermione was refreshed enough to go to Diagon Alley. She approached Bellatrix with a tentative smile, and was relieved when Bellatrix didn’t mention the argument between them or the article either, instead announcing straight away that they should Floo to Diagon Alley. Surprisingly, it seemed that the older witch had taken the article fairly well in the grand scheme of things; apparently the fight they had gotten into had reminded her of where her priorities should lie. It was still likely that Bellatrix would be extremely angry if confronted by another witch or wizard, but with some luck she would be able to stop herself from doing physical harm to people if Hermione was there to keep her calm. Of course, there was always the possibility that then she would turn on Hermione, but after what had already happened between them that very day, Hermione doubted it very much.
The visit to Gringotts proceeded fairly smoothly, and if the goblins remembered Hermione posing as Bellatrix and breaking into their beloved bank, they didn’t try to apprehend her or comment on the fact that she was accompanied by the real Bellatrix. Hermione supposed that the Ministry must have stepped in and told them that it was unnecessary, because despite every illegal act she had committed over the past year along with Harry and Ron, she hadn’t been questioned about anything. Being one third of the trip responsible for the demise of Voldemort had its’ benefits, no doubt, although Hermione also imagined that it was due to the fact that as Minister for Magic, Kingsley was fair and just. After all, hadn’t Bellatrix’s freedom happened because of his own proposal to the Ministry?
Unfortunately, their luck didn’t last long, for the second they stepped out of Gringotts and into the street, Hermione came face to face with Hagrid. She’d barely seen him this past year, and had only caught fleeting glances of him during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he still looked the same as always. Despite the look of thunder on his face as he caught sight of Bellatrix, Hermione happily greeted him, hoping to keep things as friendly as possible. “Hagrid! It’s so good to see you.”
Hermione wasn’t stupid; it was obvious that Hagrid realised that she was in a relationship with Bellatrix. After the Daily Prophet had printed a story stating they were together, there was no way they could hide it from anyone unless they were a complete recluse! Her best hope was that people would still see her as the Hermione they knew; if she had changed at all then it was because of the war and her experiences, not because Bellatrix had asked her to. All she could do was to act as normally as possible and hope for the best. With a bit of luck, Hagrid wouldn’t even comment on it. Yeah, right.
“You too, Hermione,” Hagrid said gruffly, and though he was a little standoffish, he didn’t appear to be angry with her. “Wish the same could be said fer you, Lestrange.”
“Call me Black,” Bellatrix snapped, correcting him. “Or Bellatrix. Or anything except Lestrange.”
“I’ll call yeh whatever I ruddy well feel like!” Hagrid exclaimed.
“Or Madam Black,” Bellatrix suggested, ignoring Hagrid. She gestured towards Hermione, smirking. “And then she can be Madam Black’s bitch. What do you think, hmm?”
Wrong move, Hermione thought, as Hagrid exploded. He looked fierce as he roared, “I don’t know what yer playin’ at, but if yeh dare do anything to Hermione I’ll kill yeh meself! She’s just a girl!”
Hermione got the impression that Hagrid thought she was being forced into a relationship with Bellatrix against her will. The main reason she suspected this was because he appeared to bear no animosity towards her and instead threw all of his fury at Bellatrix. She supposed that from an outsider’s perspective it was a reasonable assumption to make, not least because of her age. Although she was an adult in both the wizarding world and the Muggle world, people would still judge the age gap between herself and Bellatrix. Hermione understood entirely, because had it been Ron or Harry in love with Bellatrix instead of herself, she probably would have been horrified beyond belief.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, looking bored. “You’ll have to join the queue... there are already several people who are in line before you.”
“Bellatrix,” Hermione said in a low voice, warningly. She really didn’t want to be the centre of a huge drama in the middle of Diagon Alley if an all-out argument started between Bellatrix and Hagrid. Turning her attention back to Hagrid, she said, “Are you doing anything nice before term starts again?”
“Spending time with Olympe,” Hagrid replied, his eyes still fixed on Bellatrix, and his giant hands clenching at his sides in an obvious attempt to keep calm. “Are yeh coming back to Hogwarts then?”
Hermione nodded, ignored the surprised look from Bellatrix. Thankfully, the older witch kept her mouth shut, evidently realising that now wasn’t the time or the place to call her on it.
“Glad to hear it,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “Yer welcome to pop over ‘fore term starts... though I’ll be busy makin’ a lot o’ repairs after the state the Death Eaters left it in. Least it didn’t get burnt ‘gen I s’pose.” He shot Bellatrix a nasty look as he said this, referring to the night of Dumbledore’s death when she had set fire to his hut whilst his dog, Fang, was still inside.
However, Bellatrix appeared to be entirely unfazed by Hagrid’s words. Grinning, she said, “Ah, that’s all water under the bridge now, Hagrid!”
“No it ruddy well isn’t!” Hagrid said indignantly, his round face turning from a shade of red to purple fury. “Yeh nearly killed Fang, yeh evil woman!”
Considering this accusation, Bellatrix gave what she evidently imagined to be a justified and kind response, as she said casually, “Well, he didn’t actually die, did he? So that’s all alright.”
“Bellatrix!” Hermione said, horrified.
Shrugging, Bellatrix cast another look towards Hermione. “It’s the truth.”
“We’d better go, Hagrid,” Hermione said nervously, because Hagrid was clutching the pink umbrella containing pieces of his snapped wand in his hand angrily, looking as though he was about to attack. Judging by the way he was shaking and his lack of speech, he was more enraged than he had been at the start of their conversation. “I’ll see you soon.”
Grabbing onto Bellatrix, Hermione pulled her away before Hagrid could form a reply. She kept her mouth shut as she didn’t want to provoke Bellatrix’s wrath in public, not knowing if any reporters were lurking around or secretly following them. Eventually, the drama would die down, but for the moment it was something she would have to be prepared for just in case. Now that Diagon Alley was safe once again, it was far more packed, and so many people stared at herself and Bellatrix, hardly able to believe their eyes judging by the fear and horror displayed on their faces.
“I don’t know what they’re staring at,” Bellatrix said, irritated. “I’m sure they’re doing it just to try and force me into cursing them.”
“Well don’t give them the satisfaction then,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. Keep her calm, keep her calm...
“Easy for you to say,” Bellatrix muttered. “Come, I want to finish shopping and leave immediately.”
“What broomstick are you getting?” Hermione asked. She didn’t care, but she was trying to distract Bellatrix from the staring, not wanting to see her lover unleash her fury. An attempt at light-hearted conversation was all she could think to do considering that they were surrounded by too many people for other more effective means of keeping Bellatrix in a good mood. Hermione would have tried whispering flirtatious promises of what was to come later for Bellatrix if she behaved herself, but she had visions of Bellatrix attempting to act them out in public. Whilst Hermione acknowledged that it was possible for Bellatrix to be too much of a proud pure-blood to show affection for a Muggle-born in public, it was still a risk that she wasn’t willing to take. The last thing she needed was for a photograph of Bellatrix attempting to tongue her to end up on the front of the Daily Prophet.
“The latest Firebolt model,” Bellatrix replied, still throwing filthy looks at anyone who dared to look at her in the wrong way, whether through fear or disgust.
“Isn’t that expensive?” Hermione commented. She struggled to see why Bellatrix would need a broom of such a high quality when she didn’t even like to play Quidditch.
Bellatrix shrugged. “I can afford it, and it’s what I want.”
Assuming that it was just another of Bellatrix’s peculiar decisions, Hermione didn’t attempt to question her again. Instead, she allowed Bellatrix to lead the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, following quickly as she wanted to get home as soon as possible. She agreed with Bellatrix in that she didn’t want to spend long in Diagon Alley, knowing that the more time they were in public, the more chance there was of someone else confronting them. The day hadn’t exactly been great for Hermione ever since she had opened that bloody letter from Harry, and so she had no desire to face the wrath of other wizards and witches who would make the day even worse.
Bellatrix didn’t bother to look around; she merely sauntered up to the counter and requested the latest Firebolt. Bored, Hermione began looking at all the Quidditch related books in the store in an attempt to keep herself amused. Flying was something she really didn’t enjoy, and although she wasn’t the appalling flyer that she was during her first year at Hogwarts, she wasn’t anywhere near good either. It didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, and so whenever Ron and Harry were raving about how amazing flying was, Hermione usually switched off and read a book instead. The boys thought she was mad for choosing books over flying and Quidditch, but being a bookworm was something she did perfectly well, thank you very much.
Mercifully, Bellatrix didn’t face any awkwardness from the small, blonde girl who served her, as judging by the look on her face, she was far too terrified to say anything at all. Attempting to reassure her, Hermione smiled at her when Bellatrix wasn’t looking, if only to make her feel a little better. Hermione fully understood why people reacted the way they did towards Bellatrix considering her reputation, and the newspaper article certainly hadn’t helped. The Daily Prophet article had done some good by claiming that Bellatrix was now considered innocent of the crimes she had long been accused of, but not everyone was suddenly going to believe it after so many years had passed.
The next stop was Eeylop’s Owl Emporium so that Bellatrix could buy herself an owl. After much consideration, she eventually settled on a large, black-as-the-night-sky owl with a curved, sharp beak. Her eyes were a bright amber, mesmerising in an inexplicable way, which because obvious the moment Hermione made eye contact with her. There was no doubt that she was a beautiful owl, standing proudly on her perch, and looking calmly at Bellatrix and Hermione.
“I want that one,” Bellatrix announced to the young boy behind the counter, as Hermione gathered everything she needed to care for Crookshanks once she had picked him up from the Weasleys, like blankets, toys and treats. “And whatever supplies are necessary to look after her.”
Averting his eyes, the young boy set about preparing the owl, not daring to look Bellatrix’s way. He didn’t even ask whether she had owned an owl before, if she knew how to look after them, or make any attempt to try and engage in friendly conversation with her. Amazingly, he seemed even more frightened than the girl from Quality Quidditch Supplies had been, judging by his shaking hand.
Taking pity on him and seeing an opportunity to do something nice for Bellatrix at the same time, Hermione placed her own shopping on the counter, and whispered to Bellatrix out of the shop assistant’s earshot, “Why don’t you take her outside, and I’ll pay?”
Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest, “But...”
“Go,” Hermione said firmly, praying that Bellatrix didn’t take this the wrong way. “I want to buy her for you. Why don’t you take her outside and try to think of a name whilst I finish here?” It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it, after all. Her own vault at Gringotts was pretty full considering how little money she had spent over the past year, and the prior generosity of her parents.
Speechless, Bellatrix left, staring at Hermione in wonderment and barely paying any attention to the owl in the cage that she held. It was obvious to Hermione that she didn’t know how to say thank you for a gift, so unfamiliar was she with being given anything.
“How much is that?” Hermione asked, smiling at the boy behind the counter.
For several seconds he stared at her, his blue eyes fixated on her own. His expression looked calmer than before, though his hand still shook, Hermione noted, as he ran a hand through the blonde curls on his head. “How can you bear to be anywhere near her?” he asked, ignoring Hermione’s question.
“I... what?” Hermione replied frowning.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” He spat. “She’s tortured countless Muggles and Muggle-borns. What makes you think she’s changed?”
“I’m a Muggle-born, and she doesn’t torture me,” Hermione justified in a quiet voice, choosing to ignore the memories of when Bellatrix had done exactly that to her. “I know she’s done horrible things, but everyone deserves a second chance.”
“I think you’re insane for trusting her!” the boy exclaimed. “You should be sticking by the rest of us Muggle-borns, not siding with a maniac.”
Realising that trying to convince him would be futile, Hermione said as politely as possible, “I would like to pay now.”
After paying, she left the shop in a hurry, grateful that the blonde boy did not continue to verbally abuse Bellatrix to her, and instead completed the transaction in silence. Regardless of how upset she felt, she vowed not to tell Bellatrix of the exchange, knowing that she would be so angry she may even seek him out to confront him herself. In turn, that would only make people distrust her even more when they found out that she had argued with or perhaps even cursed a Muggle-born. Instead, Hermione tried to put it out of her mind, telling herself that as time went on, Bellatrix would be accepted once more. If she could control herself, show others she wasn’t a threat and was remorseful for her actions (even if she wasn’t) then people would stop staring and judging her every time they set eyes on her. Some would still be likely to talk behind closed doors , but as neither Bellatrix or herself would have to deal with that, it wasn’t something Hermione wasn’t overly concerned about.
Arriving back at Bellatrix’s by Floo, Hermione walked down the hallway with Bellatrix after leaving the library. Technically they could have used the Floo Network to travel directly to the sitting room, as Bellatrix had informed her that the fireplace in the sitting room was also connected to the network. However, she had also added that for inexplicable reasons her parents had always preferred to use the fireplace in the library, and Bellatrix had always done the same, not finding it to be a problem. The only time the sitting room fireplace was used was if a stranger or acquaintance requested a visit, and were not permitted to enter through the upstairs library. Another odd Black family rule.
On the way to the sitting room after dropping off the owl in one of the upstairs tower rooms, Hermione glanced at the familiar portraits which were still unmoving. Curiosity peaked once more, and she took the opportunity to ask Bellatrix about them whilst she remembered. “Why don’t any of the portraits move?”
Bellatrix made a face. “I took down the portraits of my mother, father, and various other ancestors after they overheard our discussion in the hallway a few months ago after you came back to visit.”
“Why?” Hermione asked, though she already had an inkling as to the reasoning for this.
“Well as you can imagine, they objected to our relationship. I got fed up of them yelling abuse at me every time I went past them,” Bellatrix said, sounding thoroughly irritated.
Worried that Bellatrix was going to take out her frustration on her, Hermione kept quiet. She could only imagine the sort of things that Bellatrix’s parents had yelled; she remembered all too well the offensive names that Sirius’s mother had screeched every opportunity she got. At least Bellatrix had been able to remove her parents’ portraits from the wall; evidently they had trusted their daughters and had felt there was no need for a Permanent Sticking Charm.
There was much about the house that Hermione disliked, mainly the dark objects and lack of bright, vivid colours. Although it was nowhere near as dark as Malfoy Manor, there was still something cold about the house that Hermione wanted to change. Over time she was certain that she would be able to ask Bellatrix to move a few things around and change the wallpaper or floors, but there was absolutely no way after such a short space of time living with her unofficially that she could do such a thing. Besides, it wasn’t her place to say anything, and she supposed there were more important things to be worrying about.
“You know, I should probably blast myself off the tapestry at Grimmauld Place... it’s the first thing my Aunt Walburga would have done,” Bellatrix said as she entered the sitting room, Hermione trailing behind her. “I certainly wouldn’t be considered a member of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in her eyes any longer.”
Still, Hermione didn’t say anything. She got the impression that although Bellatrix was entitled to talk about her family in a derogatory way, there was little chance of herself being afforded the same privilege. There was no real reason for her to think that, but it was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take. Instead, she took a seat next to the older witch, leaning back and resting her head, waiting for Bellatrix to begin talking about something else.
However, it appeared Bellatrix was aware that Hermione was less vocal than usual, for she asked her, “What is the matter?”
“Nothing,” Hermione denied, smiling awkwardly.
“You’re being unusually quiet,” Bellatrix observed. “Have I done something else to upset you?”
Hermione shook her head.
“Is it because I didn’t say thank you for the owl? Because I am happy you bought me it, I was just so surprised I didn’t think to thank you at the time,” Bellatrix said, giving an unneeded explanation after completely misinterpreting Hermione’s silence.
“It’s nothing to do with you not thanking me for the owl; I didn’t expect you to,” Hermione answered truthfully. As it appeared that Bellatrix had no intention of letting the subject go, Hermione decided to do what she did best and be tactfully honest. “I don’t want to comment on your family, because I know that if I say anything inappropriate you’re going to be angry with me.”
“I don’t see what your problem is with my family,” Bellatrix said, surprisingly calm.
Despite Bellatrix’s rational response, Hermione still sensed the potential for this to turn into another fight, and so she racked her brains for a way to diffuse the situation before it ever really got started. It was extremely unlikely that Bellatrix would inflict violence upon her so soon after what she had promised today, but the problem with people like Bellatrix was that there was always a small possibility. For Bellatrix it was a case of “Oops, sorry dearie, didn’t mean that!” as more often than not she just couldn’t comprehend the consequences of her violent behaviour. Nevertheless, if Hermione continued to be unresponsive then Bellatrix would only keep pushing until her temper flared anyway, and so it was tough to know what to do for the best.
“There is no problem,” Hermione clarified. “I didn’t know them, but what I do know is what they believed in, and what they taught you, Narcissa and Andromeda to believe.”
There. That was as much as she was going to reveal. She had put it in such a way so as to express subtle concern for the views that had been thrust upon Bellatrix ever since she was a little girl, knowing enough from off-hand remarks Bellatrix had made, and information from Sirius to comprehend the type of family the Blacks had been. Their hatred of Muggle-borns had contributed to the sort of witches and wizards that Voldemort had preyed on; those who were proud, arrogant and full of their own self-importance. In short, individuals like Bellatrix, who had been so brainwashed that they didn’t stand a chance. Somehow, Andromeda and Sirius had managed to escape it, but Hermione couldn’t help considering that it was a combination of rebellion and personality traits that had allowed them to do this. Judging by Bellatrix’s obsessive need for control, power, but also respect, it was impossible for her to be anything except what she had been moulded into. Of course, her childhood couldn’t be entirely blamed for some of the fault was her own, but that didn’t make her unworthy of a chance to change.
Bellatrix leant towards her, raven curls falling around her face. “Finding fault with my upbringing would be easy, but I won’t. You need to understand that serving the Dark Lord was exhilarating. It made me feel like my life had meaning; I wasn’t just another house-witch, but a Death Eater. I had a purpose. I changed things!”
“You also hurt innocent people,” Hermione reminded her. “Don’t you see, Bellatrix? If you had done what Andromeda had the courage to do and walked away from your family, you could have had everything by now; love, a career, friends and respect. Not from pure-bloods, but from every person that you could have helped in whatever way you chose to do so.”
“That’s what you don’t see,” Bellatrix said adamantly. “I believed in the cause. Even now, despite our connection... I still struggle. Were Semper Amor not involved then I never would have acted upon my feelings; it was utter selfishness that led me to betray the Dark Lord.”
Hermione wasn’t quite sure how they had gone from talking about portraits to discussing Bellatrix’s life and feelings for her. It hurt Hermione to know that Bellatrix would never have been able to openly love her without the ancient love between them. She appreciated Bellatrix’s honesty, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear her confession. Although Hermione possessed enough common sense to allow her to grasp the impact that Semper Amor had on her situation, she had always hoped that Bellatrix would have loved her anyway. It was a silly, ridiculous notion, but all Hermione had wanted since she accepted her feelings for Bellatrix was for the older witch to willingly love her back. Overwhelmed with the realisation that this wasn’t the case, she couldn’t stand to be around Bellatrix right now. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Hermione said, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched, even to her own ears. “I’m uh... not feeling too well. I’m going to lie down again.”
“Hermione,” Bellatrix began. “It’s not that I don’t want-”
“Don’t,” Hermione interrupted. “Please, Bella. I just need to lie down.”
She left quickly before Bellatrix could try and engage her in conversation once more. Maybe it had been immature of her to walk away from a difficult conversation, but she was upset, and also a little worried. There was no guarantee that should Bellatrix build a life for herself that she would stick around to be with Hermione. If she so wished, she could use Hermione to improve her reputation (a fanatical pure-blooded Death Eater in a relationship with a female Muggle-born would do wonders in the long run) and then leave, deciding to tolerate the consequences of Semper Amor.
If Hermione had been a stronger person then she would have walked away before the going got tough, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive without Bellatrix. There would never be another who she felt the same way about and who drew the same reactions from her as Bellatrix did. It was so sodding unfair, because she had always wanted the fairytale wedding and a couple of children, alongside some sort of career where she was able to help people. Instead she had been granted Bellatrix, a completely insane supporter of the Dark Arts and Mudblood hater. That alone was undeserved, but the added inability to ever love anyone else in the way she loved Bellatrix just topped it off. Brilliant.
The despair that Hermione currently felt meant that more than ever she really missed her friends. She wanted Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and Dobby back. Sirius too. So many had suffered and died for everything Bellatrix believed in, took pleasure in, and it was only really hitting her this very moment. Until now she hadn’t really grieved for anyone, hiding away her feelings during every funeral she’d attended because that was what was easier. Living with Bellatrix had meant she couldn’t even come home to grieve, and then she hadn’t really been able to disappear elsewhere because there was nowhere else to go. Her parent’s home was empty and lonely, and it was debateable whether any of her friends would accept her into their home. Besides, it had been an unspoken agreement that she would remain with Bellatrix, the terms of Semper Amor dictating that they should be together whenever possible.
Shutting herself away in the bedroom for the second time that day, Hermione snuggled beneath the sheets to sob quietly.
This time, Bellatrix didn’t come for her.
**
January 1959
Bellatrix was extremely bored. Her younger sisters were absolutely no fun to play with at all! Narcissa just followed her constantly whining, and Andromeda was more interested in playing with her Wizadoll than she was at actually playing games with Bellatrix, even if she was her cool older sister. Therefore, Bellatrix decided that she was going to on a mission to explore the vast rooms of the house whilst her parents were up in the library, and she wandered into the dining room, immediately setting eyes on the candles that lay on the mahogany table.
She ran over to them, wondering if she could set them alight the way that Andromeda had done when she’d become angry whilst they’d all been sat at the table eating dinner. Bellatrix had pulled her hair, and when Andromeda stuck her tongue out in retaliation, she’d been caught by their father who had been most displeased. Her younger sister had been so furious that she had caused the candles to roar to life without meaning to, and had ended up being punished and sent to bed early for being so naughty.
Moving the candles over towards the end of the table, Bellatrix stared at them, willing them to set on fire. Nothing. She tried poking them with her hand. Nothing. Eventually, she was so frustrated that she swung around, spinning in a circle, chanting under her breath “Fire fire fire fire fire” for she didn’t know the spell to make them alight, and besides, she didn’t yet have a wand. All she had to rely on was her uncontrollable magic, and that really was the crux of the matter. This wasn’t something she could control.
Unfortunately, so intent was she on spinning around that she failed to notice herself getting closer to the candles, meaning that the first she was aware of them having fallen was when she heard the resultant crash. Stopping herself, she looked down in horror, dismayed to see that one of the sticks had broken clean in half. What was she supposed to do now? If she was quick enough then she could always summon Lazar, the house-elf, and leave him to deal with it.
“Bellatrix, what are you doing?”
Too late.
Hearing her father’s harsh voice, Bellatrix automatically took a step backwards, biting her lip nervously. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Cygnus said, sounding angrier by the minute. “What have you done to the candles?”
“It was an accident,” Bellatrix said, trying her best to sound sorry. “I didn’t mean to.”
Her protests did no good, and she felt her father grip onto her arm, and throw her up against the wall. She whimpered as her head cracked against the panelling, and she squeezed her eyes shut, seeing stars. Maybe if she kept them shut her father would go away, and she wouldn’t have to look at his bulging eyes, the angry patches on his cheeks anymore. Maybe maybe maybe.
“Stupid girl!” he snarled.
Even when he smacked her across the face, she knew that she couldn’t make a sound, because then he would be even more furious with her. No, if she just stayed quiet then he would tell her to clean up the mess without magic just like a filthy Muggle, and leave her to it. That would be ok then, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t have to worry about any more repercussions. It had only been an accident, and hopefully she wouldn’t be punished too badly. Not like the time she’d broken the heel of her mother’s brand new red, dragon skin boots trying them on, and hadn’t been able to do anything but shuffle in agony for a week after her father had sliced the bottoms of toes in retaliation.
“Clean that up,” he ordered over his shoulder as he left the room. “And ask Lazar to fetch us some new ones.”
Bellatrix did as she was told, scooping the candles into her arms to give to Lazar to dispose of. On her way down to the kitchen, she could hardly believe her eyes when the candles ignited in her arms; even the broken one. Amazed, she stood still, watching the flames flicker and feeling the heat on her arms. She had done it.
In that moment, Bellatrix came to the conclusion that to gain, there usually had to be pain as well.
**
“Hermione?”
Groggily, Hermione opened her eyes. She was vaguely aware of Bellatrix calling her, waking her from the deep sleep she had managed to fall into. Apparently, despite her upset she had still managed to rest without even being aware of herself falling into a slumber. It was amazing when you considered how little she had been doing every day; the most taxing thing she had done lately was to read complex books on the Dark Arts, intrigued by the sorts of material that Bellatrix had grown up surrounded by. Sometimes she missed the constant structure that her days had and the way that she could be in a routine, for she had no real responsibilities at present. Although she knew she should be enjoying herself after her life had almost been destroyed by Voldemort, it was hard when there was so much still hurting her. My murdered loved ones. Ron. Mum and Dad. Need you all back.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, blinking to get used to the light. It didn’t seem too bright, however, which made her wonder what the time was. How long had she even been asleep? Glancing at her watch, she was horrified to see that it was seven o’clock in the evening. Hermione guessed that she had been upstairs for around four hours, probably sleeping for most of that time.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Bellatrix asked tentatively.
Hermione remained facing the opposite direction, not wanting to look at her lover. Every single time she faced Bellatrix’s dark dark eyes, it seemed so much worse when she heard hurtful words. Somehow, she felt like a lesser human being. “No,” she whispered.
“You need to talk to me eventually,” Bellatrix said reasonably. “We are currently living in the same house, after all.”
Hermione swallowed, ignoring the lump in her throat. “Not for much longer... I’ll be going back to Hogwarts soon.”
There was a silence so unbearable that Hermione wondered what Bellatrix thought of this statement. She had brought up the topic of Hogwarts to Hagrid in front of Bellatrix earlier, but she supposed that Bellatrix had forgotten considering everything else going on, or had not even taken her seriously in the first place. From her own perspective, she wanted to finish her N.E.W.T.s so that she could say she had graduated Hogwarts, and to improve her career prospects. It was even more important to her as a Muggle-born to prove that she had achieved something and that she was just as capable of performing magic than any pure-blood, possibly even more talented.
When there was still no response from Bellatrix a couple of minutes later, and all she could hear was the sound of the raven haired witch breathing, Hermione finally turned to face her. Observing her lover, she could see that she was attempting to control her emotions, probably the rage and hatred for not having been consulted burning inside. Hermione allowed her eyes to fall down to Bellatrix’s heaving chest, and she tensed, worried that she was about to erupt.
Finally noticing that she was being watched, Bellatrix roughly choked out, “You can’t.” Unexpectedly, there was panic written all over her face.
“Yes I can, Bellatrix,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want to do my exams and complete my education. Maybe you don’t think I’m worthy of that, but it isn’t your decision to make. I want to return to Hogwarts and I will. End of discussion.”
“I don’t want you to,” Bellatrix said, sounding different. Her voice was strangely nasally, and she didn’t sound vicious in the slightest. “I want you to remain here.”
Hermione shook her head. “No.”
“Please,” Bellatrix said, almost sounding as though she was begging now.
Bewildered, Hermione stared, trying to work out what was going on. After further observation and considering the way Bellatrix had been talking to her, it really didn’t seem as though she was angry. Was she upset? Hermione hadn’t thought it possible for Bellatrix to feel such an emotion. There were no tears, but Bellatrix had balled her hands into a fist shape, and was biting down on her lower lip, as though she was in a battle with herself over whether to say something or not.
Despite the treatment she had received from Bellatrix, Hermione felt herself crumbling. She wasn’t going to give in to Bellatrix’s demand, but she wasn’t going to just sit and watch her suffer like this either. It was evident that whereas most people would just express their emotions or go off on their own to deal with them, Bellatrix was incapable of doing that. The only real emotion she was able to show was anger, explaining why she often went off the handle for little to no reason at all. Hermione had to simultaneously be strong enough to deal with that and also to show her the sympathy and love she deserved.
“I won’t change my mind, Bella. My education is very important for my future, and I need the best N.E.W.T results possible in order to enter the profession of my choice,” Hermione explained, and she was overjoyed to discover that when she shuffled closer to Bellatrix and placed a hand on her arm that she wasn’t pushed away.
“If you go back, we may as well be over,” Bellatrix said, sounding morose, her bottom lip trembling.
Hermione frowned. “How do you work that one out?”
Bellatrix locked eyes with Hermione, her darker brown orbs lazering straight into Hermione’s lighter brown eyes. “I will only see you during holidays, meaning that the time in between will be unbearable. As you reminded me earlier, I have no career, respect or companionship. No purpose in life. What am I going to do?”
Sighing, Hermione leant forward, and gently placed a chaste kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth. “You are going to write to me, speak to me through Floo Powder, meet me for Hogsmeade weekends. You’re going to see your sisters, meet Teddy for the first time... you’re going to be attending your Soul Healer appointments. You have more than enough to be doing, Bella. I promise; you’ll be fine without me.”
“I gave up the Dark Lord for you; why can’t you do this one thing for me?” Bellatrix said, and Hermione realised that she had selfishly been keeping this to herself to play as a trump card, expecting it to be the one reason she provided that Hermione had no answer for. No doubt she imagined that she could manipulate her into doing what she wanted if she tried hard enough, thinking that she was the smarter witch and therefore able to convince Hermione to do whatever she wanted.
She was sorely mistaken, because Hermione already had an answer prepared for her.
“Because you tortured me, Bellatrix, and hurt a lot of people. I won’t give up my education for you, and you shouldn’t ask me to,” Hermione told her.
“I’ll go crazy without you here,” Bellatrix declared desperately winding her thumb around her raven curls, pulling on them madly.
“You’re already crazy,” Hermione said, attempting a joke. It fell flat as Bellatrix just stared at her blankly, now looking even more upset. Trying to cheer her up, Hermione suggested, “We can sneak you in and then sometimes I can sneak back here. I’m not a fan of rule breaking but if it makes you happier...?”
This seemed to perk Bellatrix up a little. “Every week?”
Hermione smiled. “I think that might be too frequent. I’ll have to see what my timetable says and then get back to you. It’s only one year though, remember that. I’ll be back here before you know it.”
Bellatrix didn’t response, staying quiet. It was obvious she still wasn’t placated.
Clutching at straws, Hermione made another suggestion, “You can keep Crookshanks here too if you like.”
“What?” Bellatrix said. “Who’s Crookshanks?”
“He’s my cat that the Weasleys have been looking after for me. I have to pick him up soon and... well he’ll be company, won’t he?” Hermione said brightly. “I’ll miss him whilst I’m at Hogwarts but I’m used to not having him around considering that we’ve spent months apart. You can look after each other for me. I know you haven’t met him yet, but you’ll grow to love each other once you’ve spent time together, I promise.”
Bellatrix looked as if she seriously doubted Hermione’s offer, but made no attempt to protest. “I have no choice but to accept this, do I?” Bellatrix said. “Threatening you will just make you leave?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
“Is that why you’ve been up here alone for hours on end? Because I make you feel threatened?” Bellatrix asked awkwardly, giving Hermione the impression that it wasn’t something she was particularly proud of.
“A little. But... I also wanted to be alone because it hurts that you don’t love me the way I am and that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t love me,” Hermione said sadly. “Not to mention that I miss my friends, and I wish that people I cared about hadn’t died. Everything just feels wrong.”
Bellatrix watched her for a moment or so, before she gestured for Hermione to move closer. Obliging, Hermione did so, resting her head against Bellatrix’s chest, as her lover propped herself up against the headboard. It was a rare moment of genuine affection on Bellatrix’s part, and it made tingles run up and down her spine as Bellatrix started to play with her hair aimlessly.
“I do love you the way you are,” Bellatrix confessed. “And it’s not so much that I wouldn’t love you if I had a choice. Not anymore. It’s more that I feel as though I shouldn’t be allowed to love you.”
“But you still do regardless?” Hermione checked softly.
“Always,” Bellatrix vowed. “As I’ve told you before... you’re not like the other Muggle-borns. You’re my little babe, and you’ll be mine forever.”
Hermione shut her eyes once more as Bellatrix wrapped an arm underneath her breasts, pulling their bodies together. As hard as it was, she forced herself to pretend that she believed Bellatrix’s words were honest, and that her love was unconditional. I love you too.
**
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