FIC: Impossible (29/30)
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. :)
There is sexual content in this part.
(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), (27 ) (28)
**
Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars
Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing
It's okay not to be okay
Sometimes it's hard to follow your heart
But tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising
There's nothing wrong with who you are...
Jessie J, Who You Are**
29.
The next few days passed without disruption for Hermione and Bellatrix. There were hardly any arguments between them, although there was a tense moment after Bellatrix arrived back from an interview at the Ministry, where she had been forced to discuss the extensive list of crimes she had committed over the years in order for her official pardon to be prepared. Hermione still had absolutely no desire to know of the horrors that Bellatrix had subjected Muggle-borns and Muggles to, and so she avoided asking Bellatrix too many questions about what had happened for fear that she would inadvertently learn something terrible about the older witch. Thankfully, Bellatrix appeared only too happy to ignore the subject, and after a few sarcastic comments directed towards Hermione, she had spent the entire evening alone in any room apart from wherever Hermione chose to be.
On occasion, Hermione could see that Bellatrix was irritated by her seeming lack of purpose in life now that Voldemort was dead, but whenever she started to become agitated, Hermione usually found some way of distracting her. Most often than not it involved taking off her clothes, but at the moment, Hermione didn’t have any better ideas. She was concerned about what Bellatrix would do when she went back to Hogwarts, but she hoped that by then a solution would have presented itself or Bellatrix would have accepted her new life by that point.
One morning, Hermione sat eating her bowl of cereal whilst Bellatrix still remained in bed, when Lemmy entered the room in a rather unconventional way compared to her usual choice of entrance by walking through the door. The reason for this quickly became clear, however, by the presence of the blonde woman striding in behind her. Immediately, Hermione felt conscious, simply due to the fact that she was wearing a short, silky black dressing gown with nothing else underneath. It was as close to mortifying as she felt it could get, and with no power to control the way her body reacted to the humiliation, she felt her cheeks start to darken with embarrassment.
“Narcissa,” she choked out.
“Miss Granger,” Narcissa replied, her eyes trailing over Hermione’s body. Her expression remained impassive, but Hermione imagined that had she revealed her true feelings, disapproval would be the main feature.
“Miss Hermione,” Lemmy squeaked, interrupting. “Lemmy will leave Miss Narcissa with you, if that is ok?”
“Of course it is, Lemmy,” Hermione said kindly, trying to hide her anxiety. “Go and take a break; do whatever you like.”
As usually happened when Hermione treated her with such respect, (and rather like Dobby) Lemmy’s eyes filled with tears. “Bless you, Miss,” she said, her voice full of thanks, before she disappeared with a crack.
Throughout Hermione’s brief conversation with Lemmy, Narcissa had watched their interaction, seemingly intrigued. Or at least, that was the impression that Hermione got from the miniscule amount of emotion that Narcissa had allowed to seep through into her facial features. Apparently she was interested in the dynamics between Hermione and her elf friend, causing Hermione to wonder briefly if Narcissa had treated Dobby the same way as Lucius had when he had belonged to them. She didn’t think so considered the love that Kreacher had held for her and Bellatrix, because for all their faults, the Blacks had seemed to realise the importance of treating house-elves with respect, albeit for selfish motives to guarantee loyalty. Nevertheless, in Hermione’s book they earned brownie points for that at least.
“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked tentatively when Narcissa still hadn’t spoken after an awkward silence.
Narcissa took a step towards her, and said in an even tone, “I have come to speak with my sister. Is she here?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, she’s here. But... she’s still asleep at the moment,” she informed the older witch. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was half past nine. “She doesn’t usually get up for another half hour.”
Rolling her eyes, Narcissa placed her handbag down on the table. It was made of dragon’s hide and looked expensive; had they been in the Muggle world, Hermione would have guessed it to be Gucci or Valentino. More than ever, it highlighted the differences between Narcissa and Bellatrix, because whereas Bellatrix still wore expensive clothing and had now started to wear makeup and take care of her appearance, there was something different about Narcissa that screamed “Member of High Wizarding Society”.
“Ah yes, I forgot about Bellatrix’s penchant for sleeping late into the morning,” Narcissa said dryly. “Do you want to be the one to wake her up, or shall I?”
“Uhh, well you’re welcome to wait in the lounge until she wakes up,” Hermione offered. She was almost certain that Bellatrix would not be impressed with being woken up before she was ready, whether by her lover or her sister.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and ignoring the offer, she drawled, “I assume that means I’ll be the one to wake her?”
Hermione sighed inwardly. Apparently, the ability to be awkward and annoying ran through the whole of the Black family. She had seen signs of it in Sirius when he had been alive, she witnessed it in Bellatrix every waking moment of every day, and now she had learnt that Narcissa too possessed the same trait. Brilliant. How lovely for her it was going to be at family gatherings. Knowing her luck, Andromeda would prove to be the same way inclined, meaning that she would have three of them to deal with at once. This really was shaping up to be a fantastic day.
“You know, Miss Granger, Bellatrix is not the only Legilimens in the family,” Narcissa said, sounding as though she was hinting at something.
For a moment, Hermione wondered why Narcissa was telling her this, before with utter mortification, she realised that Narcissa was aware of her thoughts. It seemed that if Hermione was oblivious to the attempt and didn’t try to resist the mind intrusion she didn’t feel weakened though, which was something at least. Nevertheless, exasperated with her inability to leave up her Occlumency barriers when not actively practising it, she put them in place now. May as well at least attempt some sort of damage control, after all.
Deciding the safest thing to do would be to ignore the entire conversation, Hermione stated, “I’m just going to go and get Bellatrix.”
She swept from the room without another word to Narcissa, or even so much as a glance in her direction. She felt more intimidated by the blonde witch than she had ever thought possible, or indeed than she had ever felt with Bellatrix. It was like Narcissa held some sort of subtle power over Hermione, though why this would be the case Hermione couldn’t say. She supposed that as time went on she would become more used to her lover’s sister, but as it stood at present, she felt entirely uncomfortable in her presence. If it was the case that she felt the same around Andromeda then she would automatically have assumed that it was because of Semper Amor; maybe there was a strange side effect because they were linked by blood to Bellatrix? Perhaps it was the way that Narcissa treated her? Andromeda looked far more like Bellatrix so it couldn’t be the physical appearance that caused it, but when it came to personality, Narcissa was more sarcastic and judgmental in the way that Bellatrix was, as opposed to Andromeda who was positively warm and caring in comparison.
Hermione had been so busy looking up Occlumency, and reading the many other fascinating books in Bellatrix’s library that she had yet to consider the Semper Amor in great detail; though in hindsight she really should find the time to do so considering that it had made such an impact on her life. Maybe there would be a book that would provide the answers to her for why she reacted in such a manner towards Narcissa, though she didn’t hold out too much hope considering that it wasn’t as though she had feelings for Narcissa.
Shaking away her confused thoughts, Hermione entered the bedroom she shared with Bellatrix. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness, sitting on the bed next to the raven haired beauty that was her girlfriend... partner... whatever. She smiled as she noted how oddly innocent Bellatrix looked in her sleep, and unable to resist, she brushed hair back from Bellatrix’s face, and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. She felt the heat radiating from Bellatrix as she did so, and going one step further, she drew an arm around her warm body, and pressed her lips against Bellatrix’s ear. “Wake up, Bella,” she whispered.
Bellatrix didn’t respond.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione gently kissed Bellatrix’s earlobe, and traced kisses down along her jaw, before pressing a slightly firmer kiss against her closed mouth. This time, she managed to elicit a groan from Bellatrix, and encouraged, she spoke slightly louder. “Your sister is here.”
Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered, though she still didn’t speak.
“Come on,” Hermione said, firmer now. “Narcissa is waiting for you, and I get the feeling she’s not exactly patient. If I were you I’d be grateful for the time I’ve afforded you and get up before she drags you out of bed herself.”
“No she won’t,” Bellatrix mumbled, finally engaging in conversation. “I’ll curse her straight out of the window.”
Hermione smirked. “As amusing as I find that idea, you still need to get up.” Taking another stab at tempting Bellatrix, she moved the duvet down, revealing the flawless skin of Bellatrix’s chest. Lowering her head, she began placing small, fast kisses on each and every inch of bare skin, drawing another moan from Bellatrix. She grinned to herself as she felt her lover arch up into her, and Bellatrix slowly raised a hand to press Hermione’s head down against her chest harder, increasing the amount of pressure.
Allowing her dressing gown to fall open, Hermione was utterly distracted from the fact that she was supposed to be getting Bellatrix out of bed to see Narcissa, and instead focused all of her efforts on kissing, licking and sucking on each of her nipples. The only reason she wanted Bellatrix to wake up now was so that she could have her full attention and persuade her that there were more enjoyable activities for them to be doing than merely sleeping the morning away. Bellatrix had began to stir beneath her, apparently no longer able to sleep peacefully when Hermione was doing her best to make her feel all kinds of wonderful. Eventually she opened her eyes fully, gazing down at Hermione’s head where she had rested her chin on Bellatrix’s flat stomach.
“I’m awake now,” Bellatrix croaked, giving Hermione a sleepy smirk.
“Finally,” Hermione responded teasingly.
“I’m not getting up though,” Bellatrix declared, before pointedly yawning. “I’m just going to lie here and let you do all the work.”
“Is that so?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. She hauled herself up, straddling Bellatrix’s stomach, resting her legs either side of the older woman’s body.
Bellatrix nodded. “Get going, little babe.”
Opening her mouth to retort, Hermione froze as she heard a delicate cough come from behind her. Without turning around she knew it could only be one person, Narcissa, yet she was unable to move to shut her dressing gown, literally rooted to the spot with total embarrassment for what felt like the millionth time that morning. This was even worse than when Narcissa had walked into the kitchen not so long ago, because at least then she hasn’t been in such a compromising position. Silently, she pleaded with Bellatrix by looking down at her, hoping that Bellatrix would get the hint and deal with the situation.
“I was under the impression that Miss Granger was going to fetch you for me, Bellatrix. Evidently, she appears to have... forgotten what she was coming to wake you for,” Narcissa drawled, her voice clearer as she stepped into the room, and walked over towards the bed.
Bellatrix grinned. “I can’t help it if I’m such a distraction, Cissy.”
Apparently though, Bellatrix was conscious enough to draw Hermione’s dressing gown around her once more, and to tie a knot tightly in the front to prevent it from loosening again. It seemed that even though Narcissa was her heterosexual sister, Bellatrix was still wary enough about Hermione’s body being on show to do something about it. Without a doubt Hermione should have found this annoying, but instead she couldn’t help feeling it to be endearing that Bellatrix was jealous enough to think her naked body was worth seeing.
“Well if you could restrain yourselves for half an hour or so, I would appreciate it if I could speak to you,” Narcissa said, addressing Bellatrix, and sensibly keeping her eyes firmly away from Hermione.
“Fine,” Bellatrix sighed. “Go and wait in the sitting room... we’ll be in now.”
Silence. And then Narcissa said, “Actually Bella, I wish to speak with you alone.”
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Whilst there had been embarrassment felt by Hermione before, there wasn’t any real tension or bad feeling in the room, but with Narcissa’s words came awkwardness. Hermione was torn between being upset and angry for being left out, because although she understood that Narcissa may want to spend time alone with Bellatrix, she didn’t need to be so blatant or coldly cruel about it. What was wrong with politely apologising and asking Hermione if she didn’t mind? But no, she was a Black, and Blacks didn’t bother to make the time for niceties.
Moreover, Hermione was worried. What if Narcissa’s intention was to persuade Bellatrix that she was making a huge mistake by forming a relationship with Hermione? If there was one person in the world that Bellatrix would listen to since Voldemort had gone, it was Narcissa. To a certain extent, Bellatrix would indulge Hermione, but there was a different kind of bond that she had with her sister that seemed to matter just as much, possibly more than Semper Amor. She might actually give serious consideration to Bellatrix’s words, and that was what worried Hermione the most.
Forcing a smile on her face, she spoke before Bellatrix could respond. “That’s fine. I’ll just go to have a bath and dress.”
Quickly, she exited the bedroom, refusing to allow herself to look in Narcissa’s direction as she left. She didn’t use the en-suite in case Bellatrix chose to remain in the bedroom to chat with Narcissa, and so she instead made her way towards the bathroom she had once used when she had been a prisoner here. On autopilot, Hermione shut herself in the bathroom, undressing and getting into the bath the moment it had finished running.
For half an hour or so after washing, she lay there silently, staring ahead, her mind numb. She was so tired of always thinking, of being on edge so much just when things felt normal again. The fights, the battles, the dangers she had faced over the years had left her feeling far older than her eighteen years. When she was a little girl, before she had learned that she was a witch, she had envisioned herself in a completely different situation than the one she was currently in. Taking her A Levels, apply for Oxbridge to study dentistry, medicine, or another respectable degree, and then after gaining a First, progressing in the career of her choice, marrying and having two point five children. Instead, she was living with a witch some thirty years her senior, her parents were somewhere unknown in another continent, unaware of her existence, many of those she loved were dead, and her remaining friendships were precarious to say the least.
No longer able to stop the pressure from building up inside her stomach, knowing it had gotten too much, Hermione let out a cry. She slammed her head back against the bath, filled with rage and hate, not know how she had suddenly gone from feeling ok about things to feeling the worst she had in a long while. Completely distressed, she let the tears flow freely, letting go for the first time in as long as she could remember. The crying she had done up until this point had been restrained, quietened sobs that she still had a certain amount of control over, but no longer did she care. She didn’t give a fuck, because her life was so confusing, so messed up, and she didn’t know who she was anymore. She had done things the past year that she never imagined herself to be capable of. What little girl dreamt of destroying parts of a creature’s soul when she grew up? What little girl dreamt about falling in love with one of the most hated people in their community? What little girl is forced to let go of their parents, to force them to forget, just to keep them safe?
She felt for Harry, she truly did. Neville too, and Luna who had lost her mother when she was younger, but no one seemed to remember what she was going through with her own parents. Other than sarcastic comments from Ron during their last meeting, when had he or Harry bothered to ask her how she was feeling about the fact her parents were thousands of miles away without her? Not once. She understood there were more important things to worry about, but for them to ask every now and then would have been enough for her. Even now she was too afraid to find her parents, scared that she couldn’t reverse the effects of the charm, that something had gone wrong, or that Death Eaters had gotten to them and Bellatrix was hiding it from her. These past few weeks she had stopped herself from actively thinking about them, telling herself she was happy, but she could lie no more. All she wanted was her mum and dad. Was that so much to ask for?
“Miss Granger.”
Barely hearing the voice, Hermione continued to cry, the tears steadily dripping down her face into the rapidly chilling water. She didn’t care though, for she still had vivid memories of when she had taken a freezing cold bath, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. That was how she would choose to identify the differences in the Bellatrix’s she knew from now on, she decided. Bellatrix Lestrange would be her evil torturer, and Bellatrix Black would be the woman who sometimes loved her. A simple, yet complex distinction both at the same time.
“Hermione.”
Hearing her first name, the voice louder now, Hermione slowly turned her head, and gazed into the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. She faced away from her once more, and pulled her knees up so they pressed into her chest, protecting her modesty. Despite this, she felt naked in more than just the physical sense, and so she buried her head into her legs, her sobs shaking the whole of her body now. It didn’t matter that Narcissa was here to witness her breakdown, because she had already seen her in the most revealing of positions on several occasions previously, from the time of her torture at Malfoy Manor to her intimacy with Bellatrix in the bedroom earlier on.
“Hermione,” Narcissa spoke again. “Look at me.”
“No,” Hermione said, her voice muffled. Half-heartedly, she added, “I don’t even know why you’re here anyway considering the fact you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Narcissa proclaimed quietly.
“Yes you do,” Hermione said, insisting in a toneless voice that lacked emotion entirely. “When Bellatrix hurt me at your Manor... you just stood and watched. You did nothing.” She stressed the last word, the only possible indicator that the memory of this still wounded her. It wasn’t as if that was the only incident either; she vividly remembered the incident in Madam Malkin’s just before the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts, when Narcissa had referred to her as “scum” before storming off with Draco.
Narcissa cleared her throat awkward. “I apologise. I know that what I did was wrong, but you have to understand the position I was in. I had no idea of Bellatrix’s intentions at that stage, and I had my husband and son to think about. I derived no pleasure from watching you in pain, but ultimately there was nothing I could do to make things different.”
“And that makes it ok, does it?” Hermione asked. For a split second she wanted to roar with laughter for no apparent reason, for the situation was far from funny. So this is what crazy feels like.
“Of course not; I am merely trying to explain that I don’t hate you. Granted, it is a little strange to see you and Bellatrix so... close... but I am becoming used to the idea, I assure you,” Narcissa said, sounding the sincerest she ever had.
Hermione wanted to believe her, but somehow, she couldn’t make herself. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that,” Narcissa said, her voice impossibly soft. “What is the matter?”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Hermione said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how or why you’re in here, but I want you to leave.”
“I heard you crying on my way back to the library to Floo home,” Narcissa said, still speaking in the same gentle voice. “You didn’t lock the door, and so I didn’t exactly have to force my way in.”
Hermione wished she had thought to cast Muffliato now, if only to have stopped Narcissa from hearing her during her moment of vulnerability. If she had come into the bathroom for an ulterior motive then it wouldn’t have prevented her unless Hermione had put up wards before bathing, but seeing as she never bothered to do that, she wouldn’t have ever thought to do such a thing. And somehow, she suspected that Narcissa was telling the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier to be sat here now, showing weakness in front of her. She wasn’t hiding her upset because there was no point, but it still made her feel ten times smaller around the formidable blonde witch. She remained quiet, trying to control her tears, but is seemed all her willpower had Disapparated to a faraway place where she could no longer reach it. Desperately, she dug her nails into her legs in an attempt to help herself feel calmer, but it didn’t work.
Several seconds later, and she felt a warm hand rest on her back. After her first immediate flinch, she accepted in her own mind that it was just Narcissa attempting to comfort her, and so she tried to relax and think clearly. She had no clue why Narcissa was being nice to her, or even why she was addressing her by her first name all of a sudden, but right now she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to consider the reasons for this. The only thing she could think to do was to not talk, waiting for Narcissa to be the one to speak again.
She didn’t disappoint. “Shall I get Bellatrix?” Narcissa asked finally.
Hermione debated the question. On one hand, Narcissa was going to tell Bellatrix about this encounter whether she wanted her to or not, but on the other, did she want Bellatrix here now to make her feel better? Would she even make her feel ok again? The older witch was far from comforting in the traditional sense, but it may be that her presence forced Hermione to be brave, or at the very least stopped her from sobbing like a complete imbecile. It had been years since she had been properly consoled anyhow; being best friends with two obtuse teenage boys and being away from her parents for the majority of the year had meant that she’d dealt with most mini-teenage crises by either crying alone quietly at night, or speaking to Ginny if the chance was afforded to her, for the rest of the girls she shared a dormitory with or were in her year were utterly useless.
Coming to a decision, Hermione had just decided to tell Narcissa not to bother fetching Bellatrix and that she had to get out straight away, when she heard footsteps entering the room. Without hesitation, Narcissa drew her hand back from Hermione, and shuffled away from her position at the bath where she had been leaning over kneeling for the entire time she had been with her.
“What’s going on?” Hermione heard Bellatrix ask.
Looking up, Hermione watched as Narcissa stood and made her way over to Bellatrix. She bent close to Bellatrix’s ear and whispered something that without a doubt was related to Hermione. Immediately after, she placed a hand gently on Bellatrix’s shoulder and then exited the room without so much as another glance in Hermione’s direction. Hermione supposed she was leaving to go home, and so she sat perfectly still, staring at Bellatrix and wondering whether she was going to fly into a rage or ignore the situation entirely. Bellatrix hated her tears and so it would be much easier for her to turn a blind eye and walk away, leaving Hermione to deal with her own emotions. Is it time to ignore me or tell me to stop crying?
She did neither. How odd.
“Come,” Bellatrix said, and walking over to the bath, she waved her wand and wordlessly summoned a towel from the shelf. With strong arms she lifted Hermione from the cold water, and still supporting her weight, she wrapped a towel around Hermione’s shaking body.
Hermione did as was expected, not bothering to fight Bellatrix for she didn’t have the energy. She allowed Bellatrix to haul her out of the bath, and then with a surprising amount of strength even for Bellatrix, she carried her in her arms out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom. After brushing through Hermione’s hair and casting a charm to dry it, Bellatrix surveyed her, a questioning look in her dark brown eyes. She was entirely in control as always seemed to be the case, with the power to make or break Hermione.
With this thought came a sick realisation for Hermione. “It’s sort of like I’m your little Mudblood slave girl again, isn’t I?” she said, smiling but deadly serious. “Look, I’m even wearing a towel like I used to!”
Bellatrix visibly swallowed. Carefully, Bellatrix pulled the towel from Hermione, revealing her naked body once more. Hermione allowed herself to be dressed in clean underwear from her drawer, before Bellatrix took her own heavy, green dressing gown from the wardrobe, and helped Hermione into it. After appearing to show concern in making sure Hermione was completely dressed, the raven haired witch tucked Hermione’s legs underneath the duvet, and manoeuvred her head so that it leant against the pillow as she sat up, leaning against the headboard.
Casually sitting to the side of Hermione, but facing her direction, Bellatrix took hold of Hermione’s hands. “What is the matter with you?” she asked, voice calm, not accusing. Even odder.
“Nothing,” Hermione denied. How could she possibly put into words the way she felt? How could Bellatrix ever begin to understand and empathise with her when she wasn’t exactly emotionally capable of putting herself in another’s shoes?
“There is something wrong, little babe. Tell me why you were crying,” Bellatrix said softly. “Tell me what you need.”
“You can’t help me, Bella,” Hermione whispered. “You will never understand.”
Bellatrix watched her for a few moments, and it looked as though she were debating with herself what to do. Her expression changed. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “Because you’re going to be angry with me for this, but if you won’t talk...”
So shocked was Hermione at Bellatrix’s unexplained apology, that she failed to realise what she was going to do until it was too late. By the time she realised Bellatrix was performing Legilimency on her, the first layers of her mind had already been broken through, and due to the distressed state that she was in, her defences were even worse than usual. Hermione saw disjointed flashes in her head of her capture... the dead faces of all her friends... even the moment she had seen Harry lain on the floor, assumed dead... when she had to wipe her parent’s memories... and then Ron arguing with her... the kiss in the Room of Requirement.
No, she panicked. No no no!
With every last ounce of energy she possessed, she forced Bellatrix out of her head. The world around her span, and colours whirled around confusing her, making her forget where she was. The only thing she was aware of was that Bellatrix was no longer holding her hands, and that she was lying down rather than sitting, evidently having slumped during her defence. As she began to think more lucidly, her vision returned to her. Blinking, she forced herself upwards, and looked towards Bellatrix, trying not to shake too violently.
Bellatrix sat digging her nails into her knees, breathing heavily. Her hands were trembling, her face was pale, and were it not for the murderous expression in her eyes, Hermione would have assumed her to be upset. As it was, she realised the reason for Bellatrix’s fury was the kiss she had shared with Ron. Bellatrix had seen it in Hermione’s mind, had even seen Hermione initiate it. The chance of her believing the real reason for it, even if she looked inside of Hermione’s mind again, was extremely slim. Desperately, Hermione tried to force her mind to work again properly, for she couldn’t afford to be upset and vulnerable when she badly had to explain and defend herself.
“That last image...” Bellatrix said, and her voice was low, dangerous. “It was during the Final Battle, wasn’t it?”
“Y-yes. N-nothing I say will make you believe me, but I didn’t think. My mind was working overtime, and Ron was ju-just being so nice, and I just... well I was thinking of you, and somehow in my head I got everything confused, and I... kissed him,” Hermione stammered. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“Do you have any idea,” Bellatrix said, still speaking in the same growling tone. “How much I want to hurt you right now?”
Hermione was vaguely aware that she should be more afraid, but somehow, she couldn’t find it in her to feel anything but defeated. “Yes... and I’m not going to try and stop you if you decide to. What’s the point? It doesn’t matter how much I tell you I love you; you’re always jealous of something.”
“You kissed him,” Bellatrix said, sounding disgusted.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t what it looked like. That’s why I didn’t tell you... because that kiss mean nothing.”
“Oh of course it meant nothing,” Bellatrix said sarcastically. “How ridiculous of me to assume otherwise!”
“Bella,” Hermione said, waiting until Bellatrix looked directly at her until she spoke again. “I feel so terrible right now. You... you saw that in the bathroom just now. Please don’t make this harder for me... I feel so alone because everything is different. I’ve lost several friends during the war, and I might never see my parents again. I don’t think I can bear for you to leave me too.”
“Leave?” Bellatrix said, sounding incredulous. “Why would I leave? That ugly kiss? If anything, the mere thought of that makes me want to keep you here to suffer.”
“I assumed that Narcissa asked you to end what we have,” Hermione said, ignoring the thinly veiled threat and voicing her one of her greatest fears. “Why else would she want to talk to you alone?” Stay calm, stay calm.
Bellatrix shook her head. “You’re wrong. She wanted to pass on to me Lucius’ pathetic little concerns about our relationship, but only because he is her husband and asked her to. She wouldn’t dream of asking us to end things! You think that she hates you, but she doesn’t. I saw the way that she looked at you today, and it wasn’t hate. In fact, she warned me to take care of you before she returned home.”
Thinking over what had happened in the bathroom, Hermione remembered Narcissa whispering in Bellatrix’s ear. Should she believe her? Bellatrix would have no reason to lie, and so she assumed it to be the truth. It did beg the question as to why Narcissa was being so kind, but that wasn’t something that was a major issue for Hermione at the moment; her main problem was dealing with Bellatrix’s feelings on the Ron situation. Discussions regarding Narcissa didn’t matter as long as Bellatrix was willing to ignore what her blonde sister thought of Hermione. Nevertheless it may be the truth, for Bellatrix had cared for her today in a way she had never done so previously, which quite possibly could have been because of something Narcissa said.
“You were doing a good job of taking care of me before you performed Legilimency on me,” Hermione said, feeling hurt.
“Maybe I should practice Avada Kedavra on Weasley,” Bellatrix hissed, ignoring Hermione and focusing on her own thoughts. “If he was out of the picture then I wouldn’t need to worry so much.”
Unaware that she was even crying again until she felt a tear rolling down her cheek, Hermione replied, “You don’t need to worry anyway. It’s only you I want.” She shuffled towards Bellatrix, and threw her head against her chest. Unresponsive, Bellatrix remained still, statue-like. She was completely unmoved by Hermione’s actions. “All I want is to have my mum and dad back, and for you to love me. That’s all. I know I can never bring back to life my friends who died, and I know I can’t change the way people feel about us, but I just want those two simple things. I miss them so much, Bella. And I hate you closing off from me, or thinking that I have feelings for Ron, because in case you didn’t notice I destroyed the platonic friendship we had by rejecting him for you.”
Bellatrix breathed deeply. She growled, “I abhor him. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, feeling tears fall against Bella’s bare skin as they ran off her face. “I’m yours.”
“Prove it,” Bellatrix demanded, cupping Hermione’s face in her hands. “Make the Unbreakable Vow...”
“Wh-what?” Hermione stuttered, pulling back. Surely she had misunderstood?
“Promise that you will never kiss Weasley again,” Bellatrix ordered. “That you will never allow him to touch you, and that you will always be mine.”
Hermione bit her lip. How could she promise such things? An Unbreakable Vow could not be broken without resulting in her death. She didn’t desire Ron in the slightest, and she was ok with Bellatrix stating that she belonged to her because it made her feel just that little bit more secure. All this and more was true, but how could she make such a bond when things changed? Life progressed. People moved on. Maybe she would always love Bellatrix, but she couldn’t account for every eventuality in the future; she was nothing if not logical. Putting it into a vow that couldn’t be broken no matter what the circumstances was nothing if not suicidal. If Bellatrix hated her for saying no then she was extremely sorry, but she refused to make such a vow.
“I can’t,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m sorry because I can promise you all of that, but putting it into a vow I am not prepared to do.”
“If you really mean what you say, then you’ll do it,” Bellatrix said stubbornly.
“I do mean it,” Hermione promised, and she pressed her own wet cheek against Bellatrix’s dry one. “But I can’t make the vow... what if something accidental happens?”
“How exactly would your tongue accidentally end up in Weasley’s mouth?” Bellatrix spat into her ear, causing Hermione to flinch.
Swallowing, Hermione shook her head. “No... that wouldn’t happen. But what if someone at Hogwarts thinks it’s funny to give me a love potion that makes me want to kiss Ron and I do uncontrollably? Or in the heat of the moment when we’re arguing, I state that I don’t belong to you? Or Ron tries to touch me without me wanting him to? Do you know what that means? I die.”
Comprehension dawned on Bellatrix’s face. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Hermione repeated. “Do you want to risk my death?” she asked, her voice quivering as she dreaded even asking the question.
“You know that’s not what I want!” Bellatrix denied vehemently.
“Then don’t ask me to do such a thing,” Hermione said. “Trust me when I say that I mean it. I love you. Don’t you remember what we read about Semper Amor? ‘There is no desire whatsoever for the lovers of Semper Amor to attempt relations or affairs with any other, thereby ensuring complete emotional faithfulness.’ And I have no physical desire to go near him either, so please, don’t worry.”
Some of the fire in Bellatrix’s eyes died, and she looked almost placated. “I will never let you leave me, so you’d better tell Weasley that.”
“I have,” Hermione said, because how much clearer could she be to Ron?
“No,” Bellatrix said, no longer shaking. She rested a hand against Hermione’s face, and at that very moment, Hermione knew she was starting to come around. “You write him a letter explaining your feelings, and that if he ever comes near you, he will have me and Cruciatus to answer to.”
“Fine,” Hermione said, at that point willing to agree to anything to make Bellatrix calm. She would have to rephrase the request so that it didn’t sound quite as threatening, but she would do what she had to do to keep Bellatrix.
“As for the matter of your parents,” Bellatrix continued, changing the topic suddenly. “It seems we will have to find them. I’m sure it’ll be possible, there are many ways of tracing people. Not to mention that your parents are Muggles... which means that they won’t have covered their tracks very well. The methods you employed to hide them can be the very same methods used to find them.”
“Do you really think so?” Hermione asked, disbelieving that Bellatrix meant what she said and that she had so easily changed the subject willingly.
“Yes,” Bellatrix said vehemently.
“Wh-why would you help me after what you’ve just found out?” Hermione asked timidly, voice quivering. It wasn’t that she intended to refuse the idea, but she just couldn’t believe that Bellatrix would offer such a thing out of the blue with no prompting whatsoever. “Aren’t you angry?”
“I’m fucking furious,” Bellatrix snapped. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to see you miserable.”
“You... you just said you want to keep me here to suffer,” Hermione said, reminded Bellatrix of the words she spoke less than five minutes ago.
Bellatrix sighed. “I didn’t mean it. Well, I did, but I think I’ve made you suffer enough lately. I can’t tell you that this isn’t an issue for me, but lashing out at you won’t change the past. I see that now. There was a time when I would have dealt with this by torturing you, but you have my word that I won’t do that today. I think that the Sedonus potion I have been taking is starting to help me control my affinity for causing pain.” Lightly, Bellatrix kissed the top of Hermione’s head.
That was all the proof that Hermione needed, and she was almost certain she was going to be forgiven at some point. It had been debatable for a brief moment whether Bellatrix was going to hurt her, but for the first time she had successfully managed to control herself. It was entirely bewildering to Hermione, but the fact she didn’t succumb to her anger helped Hermione to feel better about the whole situation, even if she did have several knots churning in her stomach.
Calmer, Hermione relaxed in Bellatrix’s arms, almost certain that the arguing was now over. She supposed the good thing about the intense fights they had was that they didn’t tend to drag on for days or weeks on end, not like her arguments with Ron always had. She dreaded sending the letter that Bellatrix wanted her to send to her former friend considering it would probably make him hate her even more, but seeing as they weren’t even civil at present anyway it wasn’t exactly going to be a great loss to her. Maybe it would make things more difficult in the long run, especially considering her friendship with Harry, but there was nothing about her life that was simple anymore. It was all part of growing up, and all she had to remember was that she wasn’t alone. No matter what, Bellatrix was here to stay. The thought should have scared her, and once upon a time it would have unequivocally terrified her, but now it just made her feel optimistic, despite the overshadowing aches of her parents.
At least I’m not alone. Not completely.
**
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. :)
There is sexual content in this part.
(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), (27 ) (28)
**
Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars
Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing
It's okay not to be okay
Sometimes it's hard to follow your heart
But tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising
There's nothing wrong with who you are...
Jessie J, Who You Are**
29.
The next few days passed without disruption for Hermione and Bellatrix. There were hardly any arguments between them, although there was a tense moment after Bellatrix arrived back from an interview at the Ministry, where she had been forced to discuss the extensive list of crimes she had committed over the years in order for her official pardon to be prepared. Hermione still had absolutely no desire to know of the horrors that Bellatrix had subjected Muggle-borns and Muggles to, and so she avoided asking Bellatrix too many questions about what had happened for fear that she would inadvertently learn something terrible about the older witch. Thankfully, Bellatrix appeared only too happy to ignore the subject, and after a few sarcastic comments directed towards Hermione, she had spent the entire evening alone in any room apart from wherever Hermione chose to be.
On occasion, Hermione could see that Bellatrix was irritated by her seeming lack of purpose in life now that Voldemort was dead, but whenever she started to become agitated, Hermione usually found some way of distracting her. Most often than not it involved taking off her clothes, but at the moment, Hermione didn’t have any better ideas. She was concerned about what Bellatrix would do when she went back to Hogwarts, but she hoped that by then a solution would have presented itself or Bellatrix would have accepted her new life by that point.
One morning, Hermione sat eating her bowl of cereal whilst Bellatrix still remained in bed, when Lemmy entered the room in a rather unconventional way compared to her usual choice of entrance by walking through the door. The reason for this quickly became clear, however, by the presence of the blonde woman striding in behind her. Immediately, Hermione felt conscious, simply due to the fact that she was wearing a short, silky black dressing gown with nothing else underneath. It was as close to mortifying as she felt it could get, and with no power to control the way her body reacted to the humiliation, she felt her cheeks start to darken with embarrassment.
“Narcissa,” she choked out.
“Miss Granger,” Narcissa replied, her eyes trailing over Hermione’s body. Her expression remained impassive, but Hermione imagined that had she revealed her true feelings, disapproval would be the main feature.
“Miss Hermione,” Lemmy squeaked, interrupting. “Lemmy will leave Miss Narcissa with you, if that is ok?”
“Of course it is, Lemmy,” Hermione said kindly, trying to hide her anxiety. “Go and take a break; do whatever you like.”
As usually happened when Hermione treated her with such respect, (and rather like Dobby) Lemmy’s eyes filled with tears. “Bless you, Miss,” she said, her voice full of thanks, before she disappeared with a crack.
Throughout Hermione’s brief conversation with Lemmy, Narcissa had watched their interaction, seemingly intrigued. Or at least, that was the impression that Hermione got from the miniscule amount of emotion that Narcissa had allowed to seep through into her facial features. Apparently she was interested in the dynamics between Hermione and her elf friend, causing Hermione to wonder briefly if Narcissa had treated Dobby the same way as Lucius had when he had belonged to them. She didn’t think so considered the love that Kreacher had held for her and Bellatrix, because for all their faults, the Blacks had seemed to realise the importance of treating house-elves with respect, albeit for selfish motives to guarantee loyalty. Nevertheless, in Hermione’s book they earned brownie points for that at least.
“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked tentatively when Narcissa still hadn’t spoken after an awkward silence.
Narcissa took a step towards her, and said in an even tone, “I have come to speak with my sister. Is she here?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, she’s here. But... she’s still asleep at the moment,” she informed the older witch. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was half past nine. “She doesn’t usually get up for another half hour.”
Rolling her eyes, Narcissa placed her handbag down on the table. It was made of dragon’s hide and looked expensive; had they been in the Muggle world, Hermione would have guessed it to be Gucci or Valentino. More than ever, it highlighted the differences between Narcissa and Bellatrix, because whereas Bellatrix still wore expensive clothing and had now started to wear makeup and take care of her appearance, there was something different about Narcissa that screamed “Member of High Wizarding Society”.
“Ah yes, I forgot about Bellatrix’s penchant for sleeping late into the morning,” Narcissa said dryly. “Do you want to be the one to wake her up, or shall I?”
“Uhh, well you’re welcome to wait in the lounge until she wakes up,” Hermione offered. She was almost certain that Bellatrix would not be impressed with being woken up before she was ready, whether by her lover or her sister.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and ignoring the offer, she drawled, “I assume that means I’ll be the one to wake her?”
Hermione sighed inwardly. Apparently, the ability to be awkward and annoying ran through the whole of the Black family. She had seen signs of it in Sirius when he had been alive, she witnessed it in Bellatrix every waking moment of every day, and now she had learnt that Narcissa too possessed the same trait. Brilliant. How lovely for her it was going to be at family gatherings. Knowing her luck, Andromeda would prove to be the same way inclined, meaning that she would have three of them to deal with at once. This really was shaping up to be a fantastic day.
“You know, Miss Granger, Bellatrix is not the only Legilimens in the family,” Narcissa said, sounding as though she was hinting at something.
For a moment, Hermione wondered why Narcissa was telling her this, before with utter mortification, she realised that Narcissa was aware of her thoughts. It seemed that if Hermione was oblivious to the attempt and didn’t try to resist the mind intrusion she didn’t feel weakened though, which was something at least. Nevertheless, exasperated with her inability to leave up her Occlumency barriers when not actively practising it, she put them in place now. May as well at least attempt some sort of damage control, after all.
Deciding the safest thing to do would be to ignore the entire conversation, Hermione stated, “I’m just going to go and get Bellatrix.”
She swept from the room without another word to Narcissa, or even so much as a glance in her direction. She felt more intimidated by the blonde witch than she had ever thought possible, or indeed than she had ever felt with Bellatrix. It was like Narcissa held some sort of subtle power over Hermione, though why this would be the case Hermione couldn’t say. She supposed that as time went on she would become more used to her lover’s sister, but as it stood at present, she felt entirely uncomfortable in her presence. If it was the case that she felt the same around Andromeda then she would automatically have assumed that it was because of Semper Amor; maybe there was a strange side effect because they were linked by blood to Bellatrix? Perhaps it was the way that Narcissa treated her? Andromeda looked far more like Bellatrix so it couldn’t be the physical appearance that caused it, but when it came to personality, Narcissa was more sarcastic and judgmental in the way that Bellatrix was, as opposed to Andromeda who was positively warm and caring in comparison.
Hermione had been so busy looking up Occlumency, and reading the many other fascinating books in Bellatrix’s library that she had yet to consider the Semper Amor in great detail; though in hindsight she really should find the time to do so considering that it had made such an impact on her life. Maybe there would be a book that would provide the answers to her for why she reacted in such a manner towards Narcissa, though she didn’t hold out too much hope considering that it wasn’t as though she had feelings for Narcissa.
Shaking away her confused thoughts, Hermione entered the bedroom she shared with Bellatrix. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness, sitting on the bed next to the raven haired beauty that was her girlfriend... partner... whatever. She smiled as she noted how oddly innocent Bellatrix looked in her sleep, and unable to resist, she brushed hair back from Bellatrix’s face, and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. She felt the heat radiating from Bellatrix as she did so, and going one step further, she drew an arm around her warm body, and pressed her lips against Bellatrix’s ear. “Wake up, Bella,” she whispered.
Bellatrix didn’t respond.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione gently kissed Bellatrix’s earlobe, and traced kisses down along her jaw, before pressing a slightly firmer kiss against her closed mouth. This time, she managed to elicit a groan from Bellatrix, and encouraged, she spoke slightly louder. “Your sister is here.”
Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered, though she still didn’t speak.
“Come on,” Hermione said, firmer now. “Narcissa is waiting for you, and I get the feeling she’s not exactly patient. If I were you I’d be grateful for the time I’ve afforded you and get up before she drags you out of bed herself.”
“No she won’t,” Bellatrix mumbled, finally engaging in conversation. “I’ll curse her straight out of the window.”
Hermione smirked. “As amusing as I find that idea, you still need to get up.” Taking another stab at tempting Bellatrix, she moved the duvet down, revealing the flawless skin of Bellatrix’s chest. Lowering her head, she began placing small, fast kisses on each and every inch of bare skin, drawing another moan from Bellatrix. She grinned to herself as she felt her lover arch up into her, and Bellatrix slowly raised a hand to press Hermione’s head down against her chest harder, increasing the amount of pressure.
Allowing her dressing gown to fall open, Hermione was utterly distracted from the fact that she was supposed to be getting Bellatrix out of bed to see Narcissa, and instead focused all of her efforts on kissing, licking and sucking on each of her nipples. The only reason she wanted Bellatrix to wake up now was so that she could have her full attention and persuade her that there were more enjoyable activities for them to be doing than merely sleeping the morning away. Bellatrix had began to stir beneath her, apparently no longer able to sleep peacefully when Hermione was doing her best to make her feel all kinds of wonderful. Eventually she opened her eyes fully, gazing down at Hermione’s head where she had rested her chin on Bellatrix’s flat stomach.
“I’m awake now,” Bellatrix croaked, giving Hermione a sleepy smirk.
“Finally,” Hermione responded teasingly.
“I’m not getting up though,” Bellatrix declared, before pointedly yawning. “I’m just going to lie here and let you do all the work.”
“Is that so?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. She hauled herself up, straddling Bellatrix’s stomach, resting her legs either side of the older woman’s body.
Bellatrix nodded. “Get going, little babe.”
Opening her mouth to retort, Hermione froze as she heard a delicate cough come from behind her. Without turning around she knew it could only be one person, Narcissa, yet she was unable to move to shut her dressing gown, literally rooted to the spot with total embarrassment for what felt like the millionth time that morning. This was even worse than when Narcissa had walked into the kitchen not so long ago, because at least then she hasn’t been in such a compromising position. Silently, she pleaded with Bellatrix by looking down at her, hoping that Bellatrix would get the hint and deal with the situation.
“I was under the impression that Miss Granger was going to fetch you for me, Bellatrix. Evidently, she appears to have... forgotten what she was coming to wake you for,” Narcissa drawled, her voice clearer as she stepped into the room, and walked over towards the bed.
Bellatrix grinned. “I can’t help it if I’m such a distraction, Cissy.”
Apparently though, Bellatrix was conscious enough to draw Hermione’s dressing gown around her once more, and to tie a knot tightly in the front to prevent it from loosening again. It seemed that even though Narcissa was her heterosexual sister, Bellatrix was still wary enough about Hermione’s body being on show to do something about it. Without a doubt Hermione should have found this annoying, but instead she couldn’t help feeling it to be endearing that Bellatrix was jealous enough to think her naked body was worth seeing.
“Well if you could restrain yourselves for half an hour or so, I would appreciate it if I could speak to you,” Narcissa said, addressing Bellatrix, and sensibly keeping her eyes firmly away from Hermione.
“Fine,” Bellatrix sighed. “Go and wait in the sitting room... we’ll be in now.”
Silence. And then Narcissa said, “Actually Bella, I wish to speak with you alone.”
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Whilst there had been embarrassment felt by Hermione before, there wasn’t any real tension or bad feeling in the room, but with Narcissa’s words came awkwardness. Hermione was torn between being upset and angry for being left out, because although she understood that Narcissa may want to spend time alone with Bellatrix, she didn’t need to be so blatant or coldly cruel about it. What was wrong with politely apologising and asking Hermione if she didn’t mind? But no, she was a Black, and Blacks didn’t bother to make the time for niceties.
Moreover, Hermione was worried. What if Narcissa’s intention was to persuade Bellatrix that she was making a huge mistake by forming a relationship with Hermione? If there was one person in the world that Bellatrix would listen to since Voldemort had gone, it was Narcissa. To a certain extent, Bellatrix would indulge Hermione, but there was a different kind of bond that she had with her sister that seemed to matter just as much, possibly more than Semper Amor. She might actually give serious consideration to Bellatrix’s words, and that was what worried Hermione the most.
Forcing a smile on her face, she spoke before Bellatrix could respond. “That’s fine. I’ll just go to have a bath and dress.”
Quickly, she exited the bedroom, refusing to allow herself to look in Narcissa’s direction as she left. She didn’t use the en-suite in case Bellatrix chose to remain in the bedroom to chat with Narcissa, and so she instead made her way towards the bathroom she had once used when she had been a prisoner here. On autopilot, Hermione shut herself in the bathroom, undressing and getting into the bath the moment it had finished running.
For half an hour or so after washing, she lay there silently, staring ahead, her mind numb. She was so tired of always thinking, of being on edge so much just when things felt normal again. The fights, the battles, the dangers she had faced over the years had left her feeling far older than her eighteen years. When she was a little girl, before she had learned that she was a witch, she had envisioned herself in a completely different situation than the one she was currently in. Taking her A Levels, apply for Oxbridge to study dentistry, medicine, or another respectable degree, and then after gaining a First, progressing in the career of her choice, marrying and having two point five children. Instead, she was living with a witch some thirty years her senior, her parents were somewhere unknown in another continent, unaware of her existence, many of those she loved were dead, and her remaining friendships were precarious to say the least.
No longer able to stop the pressure from building up inside her stomach, knowing it had gotten too much, Hermione let out a cry. She slammed her head back against the bath, filled with rage and hate, not know how she had suddenly gone from feeling ok about things to feeling the worst she had in a long while. Completely distressed, she let the tears flow freely, letting go for the first time in as long as she could remember. The crying she had done up until this point had been restrained, quietened sobs that she still had a certain amount of control over, but no longer did she care. She didn’t give a fuck, because her life was so confusing, so messed up, and she didn’t know who she was anymore. She had done things the past year that she never imagined herself to be capable of. What little girl dreamt of destroying parts of a creature’s soul when she grew up? What little girl dreamt about falling in love with one of the most hated people in their community? What little girl is forced to let go of their parents, to force them to forget, just to keep them safe?
She felt for Harry, she truly did. Neville too, and Luna who had lost her mother when she was younger, but no one seemed to remember what she was going through with her own parents. Other than sarcastic comments from Ron during their last meeting, when had he or Harry bothered to ask her how she was feeling about the fact her parents were thousands of miles away without her? Not once. She understood there were more important things to worry about, but for them to ask every now and then would have been enough for her. Even now she was too afraid to find her parents, scared that she couldn’t reverse the effects of the charm, that something had gone wrong, or that Death Eaters had gotten to them and Bellatrix was hiding it from her. These past few weeks she had stopped herself from actively thinking about them, telling herself she was happy, but she could lie no more. All she wanted was her mum and dad. Was that so much to ask for?
“Miss Granger.”
Barely hearing the voice, Hermione continued to cry, the tears steadily dripping down her face into the rapidly chilling water. She didn’t care though, for she still had vivid memories of when she had taken a freezing cold bath, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. That was how she would choose to identify the differences in the Bellatrix’s she knew from now on, she decided. Bellatrix Lestrange would be her evil torturer, and Bellatrix Black would be the woman who sometimes loved her. A simple, yet complex distinction both at the same time.
“Hermione.”
Hearing her first name, the voice louder now, Hermione slowly turned her head, and gazed into the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. She faced away from her once more, and pulled her knees up so they pressed into her chest, protecting her modesty. Despite this, she felt naked in more than just the physical sense, and so she buried her head into her legs, her sobs shaking the whole of her body now. It didn’t matter that Narcissa was here to witness her breakdown, because she had already seen her in the most revealing of positions on several occasions previously, from the time of her torture at Malfoy Manor to her intimacy with Bellatrix in the bedroom earlier on.
“Hermione,” Narcissa spoke again. “Look at me.”
“No,” Hermione said, her voice muffled. Half-heartedly, she added, “I don’t even know why you’re here anyway considering the fact you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Narcissa proclaimed quietly.
“Yes you do,” Hermione said, insisting in a toneless voice that lacked emotion entirely. “When Bellatrix hurt me at your Manor... you just stood and watched. You did nothing.” She stressed the last word, the only possible indicator that the memory of this still wounded her. It wasn’t as if that was the only incident either; she vividly remembered the incident in Madam Malkin’s just before the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts, when Narcissa had referred to her as “scum” before storming off with Draco.
Narcissa cleared her throat awkward. “I apologise. I know that what I did was wrong, but you have to understand the position I was in. I had no idea of Bellatrix’s intentions at that stage, and I had my husband and son to think about. I derived no pleasure from watching you in pain, but ultimately there was nothing I could do to make things different.”
“And that makes it ok, does it?” Hermione asked. For a split second she wanted to roar with laughter for no apparent reason, for the situation was far from funny. So this is what crazy feels like.
“Of course not; I am merely trying to explain that I don’t hate you. Granted, it is a little strange to see you and Bellatrix so... close... but I am becoming used to the idea, I assure you,” Narcissa said, sounding the sincerest she ever had.
Hermione wanted to believe her, but somehow, she couldn’t make herself. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that,” Narcissa said, her voice impossibly soft. “What is the matter?”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Hermione said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how or why you’re in here, but I want you to leave.”
“I heard you crying on my way back to the library to Floo home,” Narcissa said, still speaking in the same gentle voice. “You didn’t lock the door, and so I didn’t exactly have to force my way in.”
Hermione wished she had thought to cast Muffliato now, if only to have stopped Narcissa from hearing her during her moment of vulnerability. If she had come into the bathroom for an ulterior motive then it wouldn’t have prevented her unless Hermione had put up wards before bathing, but seeing as she never bothered to do that, she wouldn’t have ever thought to do such a thing. And somehow, she suspected that Narcissa was telling the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier to be sat here now, showing weakness in front of her. She wasn’t hiding her upset because there was no point, but it still made her feel ten times smaller around the formidable blonde witch. She remained quiet, trying to control her tears, but is seemed all her willpower had Disapparated to a faraway place where she could no longer reach it. Desperately, she dug her nails into her legs in an attempt to help herself feel calmer, but it didn’t work.
Several seconds later, and she felt a warm hand rest on her back. After her first immediate flinch, she accepted in her own mind that it was just Narcissa attempting to comfort her, and so she tried to relax and think clearly. She had no clue why Narcissa was being nice to her, or even why she was addressing her by her first name all of a sudden, but right now she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to consider the reasons for this. The only thing she could think to do was to not talk, waiting for Narcissa to be the one to speak again.
She didn’t disappoint. “Shall I get Bellatrix?” Narcissa asked finally.
Hermione debated the question. On one hand, Narcissa was going to tell Bellatrix about this encounter whether she wanted her to or not, but on the other, did she want Bellatrix here now to make her feel better? Would she even make her feel ok again? The older witch was far from comforting in the traditional sense, but it may be that her presence forced Hermione to be brave, or at the very least stopped her from sobbing like a complete imbecile. It had been years since she had been properly consoled anyhow; being best friends with two obtuse teenage boys and being away from her parents for the majority of the year had meant that she’d dealt with most mini-teenage crises by either crying alone quietly at night, or speaking to Ginny if the chance was afforded to her, for the rest of the girls she shared a dormitory with or were in her year were utterly useless.
Coming to a decision, Hermione had just decided to tell Narcissa not to bother fetching Bellatrix and that she had to get out straight away, when she heard footsteps entering the room. Without hesitation, Narcissa drew her hand back from Hermione, and shuffled away from her position at the bath where she had been leaning over kneeling for the entire time she had been with her.
“What’s going on?” Hermione heard Bellatrix ask.
Looking up, Hermione watched as Narcissa stood and made her way over to Bellatrix. She bent close to Bellatrix’s ear and whispered something that without a doubt was related to Hermione. Immediately after, she placed a hand gently on Bellatrix’s shoulder and then exited the room without so much as another glance in Hermione’s direction. Hermione supposed she was leaving to go home, and so she sat perfectly still, staring at Bellatrix and wondering whether she was going to fly into a rage or ignore the situation entirely. Bellatrix hated her tears and so it would be much easier for her to turn a blind eye and walk away, leaving Hermione to deal with her own emotions. Is it time to ignore me or tell me to stop crying?
She did neither. How odd.
“Come,” Bellatrix said, and walking over to the bath, she waved her wand and wordlessly summoned a towel from the shelf. With strong arms she lifted Hermione from the cold water, and still supporting her weight, she wrapped a towel around Hermione’s shaking body.
Hermione did as was expected, not bothering to fight Bellatrix for she didn’t have the energy. She allowed Bellatrix to haul her out of the bath, and then with a surprising amount of strength even for Bellatrix, she carried her in her arms out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom. After brushing through Hermione’s hair and casting a charm to dry it, Bellatrix surveyed her, a questioning look in her dark brown eyes. She was entirely in control as always seemed to be the case, with the power to make or break Hermione.
With this thought came a sick realisation for Hermione. “It’s sort of like I’m your little Mudblood slave girl again, isn’t I?” she said, smiling but deadly serious. “Look, I’m even wearing a towel like I used to!”
Bellatrix visibly swallowed. Carefully, Bellatrix pulled the towel from Hermione, revealing her naked body once more. Hermione allowed herself to be dressed in clean underwear from her drawer, before Bellatrix took her own heavy, green dressing gown from the wardrobe, and helped Hermione into it. After appearing to show concern in making sure Hermione was completely dressed, the raven haired witch tucked Hermione’s legs underneath the duvet, and manoeuvred her head so that it leant against the pillow as she sat up, leaning against the headboard.
Casually sitting to the side of Hermione, but facing her direction, Bellatrix took hold of Hermione’s hands. “What is the matter with you?” she asked, voice calm, not accusing. Even odder.
“Nothing,” Hermione denied. How could she possibly put into words the way she felt? How could Bellatrix ever begin to understand and empathise with her when she wasn’t exactly emotionally capable of putting herself in another’s shoes?
“There is something wrong, little babe. Tell me why you were crying,” Bellatrix said softly. “Tell me what you need.”
“You can’t help me, Bella,” Hermione whispered. “You will never understand.”
Bellatrix watched her for a few moments, and it looked as though she were debating with herself what to do. Her expression changed. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “Because you’re going to be angry with me for this, but if you won’t talk...”
So shocked was Hermione at Bellatrix’s unexplained apology, that she failed to realise what she was going to do until it was too late. By the time she realised Bellatrix was performing Legilimency on her, the first layers of her mind had already been broken through, and due to the distressed state that she was in, her defences were even worse than usual. Hermione saw disjointed flashes in her head of her capture... the dead faces of all her friends... even the moment she had seen Harry lain on the floor, assumed dead... when she had to wipe her parent’s memories... and then Ron arguing with her... the kiss in the Room of Requirement.
No, she panicked. No no no!
With every last ounce of energy she possessed, she forced Bellatrix out of her head. The world around her span, and colours whirled around confusing her, making her forget where she was. The only thing she was aware of was that Bellatrix was no longer holding her hands, and that she was lying down rather than sitting, evidently having slumped during her defence. As she began to think more lucidly, her vision returned to her. Blinking, she forced herself upwards, and looked towards Bellatrix, trying not to shake too violently.
Bellatrix sat digging her nails into her knees, breathing heavily. Her hands were trembling, her face was pale, and were it not for the murderous expression in her eyes, Hermione would have assumed her to be upset. As it was, she realised the reason for Bellatrix’s fury was the kiss she had shared with Ron. Bellatrix had seen it in Hermione’s mind, had even seen Hermione initiate it. The chance of her believing the real reason for it, even if she looked inside of Hermione’s mind again, was extremely slim. Desperately, Hermione tried to force her mind to work again properly, for she couldn’t afford to be upset and vulnerable when she badly had to explain and defend herself.
“That last image...” Bellatrix said, and her voice was low, dangerous. “It was during the Final Battle, wasn’t it?”
“Y-yes. N-nothing I say will make you believe me, but I didn’t think. My mind was working overtime, and Ron was ju-just being so nice, and I just... well I was thinking of you, and somehow in my head I got everything confused, and I... kissed him,” Hermione stammered. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“Do you have any idea,” Bellatrix said, still speaking in the same growling tone. “How much I want to hurt you right now?”
Hermione was vaguely aware that she should be more afraid, but somehow, she couldn’t find it in her to feel anything but defeated. “Yes... and I’m not going to try and stop you if you decide to. What’s the point? It doesn’t matter how much I tell you I love you; you’re always jealous of something.”
“You kissed him,” Bellatrix said, sounding disgusted.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t what it looked like. That’s why I didn’t tell you... because that kiss mean nothing.”
“Oh of course it meant nothing,” Bellatrix said sarcastically. “How ridiculous of me to assume otherwise!”
“Bella,” Hermione said, waiting until Bellatrix looked directly at her until she spoke again. “I feel so terrible right now. You... you saw that in the bathroom just now. Please don’t make this harder for me... I feel so alone because everything is different. I’ve lost several friends during the war, and I might never see my parents again. I don’t think I can bear for you to leave me too.”
“Leave?” Bellatrix said, sounding incredulous. “Why would I leave? That ugly kiss? If anything, the mere thought of that makes me want to keep you here to suffer.”
“I assumed that Narcissa asked you to end what we have,” Hermione said, ignoring the thinly veiled threat and voicing her one of her greatest fears. “Why else would she want to talk to you alone?” Stay calm, stay calm.
Bellatrix shook her head. “You’re wrong. She wanted to pass on to me Lucius’ pathetic little concerns about our relationship, but only because he is her husband and asked her to. She wouldn’t dream of asking us to end things! You think that she hates you, but she doesn’t. I saw the way that she looked at you today, and it wasn’t hate. In fact, she warned me to take care of you before she returned home.”
Thinking over what had happened in the bathroom, Hermione remembered Narcissa whispering in Bellatrix’s ear. Should she believe her? Bellatrix would have no reason to lie, and so she assumed it to be the truth. It did beg the question as to why Narcissa was being so kind, but that wasn’t something that was a major issue for Hermione at the moment; her main problem was dealing with Bellatrix’s feelings on the Ron situation. Discussions regarding Narcissa didn’t matter as long as Bellatrix was willing to ignore what her blonde sister thought of Hermione. Nevertheless it may be the truth, for Bellatrix had cared for her today in a way she had never done so previously, which quite possibly could have been because of something Narcissa said.
“You were doing a good job of taking care of me before you performed Legilimency on me,” Hermione said, feeling hurt.
“Maybe I should practice Avada Kedavra on Weasley,” Bellatrix hissed, ignoring Hermione and focusing on her own thoughts. “If he was out of the picture then I wouldn’t need to worry so much.”
Unaware that she was even crying again until she felt a tear rolling down her cheek, Hermione replied, “You don’t need to worry anyway. It’s only you I want.” She shuffled towards Bellatrix, and threw her head against her chest. Unresponsive, Bellatrix remained still, statue-like. She was completely unmoved by Hermione’s actions. “All I want is to have my mum and dad back, and for you to love me. That’s all. I know I can never bring back to life my friends who died, and I know I can’t change the way people feel about us, but I just want those two simple things. I miss them so much, Bella. And I hate you closing off from me, or thinking that I have feelings for Ron, because in case you didn’t notice I destroyed the platonic friendship we had by rejecting him for you.”
Bellatrix breathed deeply. She growled, “I abhor him. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, feeling tears fall against Bella’s bare skin as they ran off her face. “I’m yours.”
“Prove it,” Bellatrix demanded, cupping Hermione’s face in her hands. “Make the Unbreakable Vow...”
“Wh-what?” Hermione stuttered, pulling back. Surely she had misunderstood?
“Promise that you will never kiss Weasley again,” Bellatrix ordered. “That you will never allow him to touch you, and that you will always be mine.”
Hermione bit her lip. How could she promise such things? An Unbreakable Vow could not be broken without resulting in her death. She didn’t desire Ron in the slightest, and she was ok with Bellatrix stating that she belonged to her because it made her feel just that little bit more secure. All this and more was true, but how could she make such a bond when things changed? Life progressed. People moved on. Maybe she would always love Bellatrix, but she couldn’t account for every eventuality in the future; she was nothing if not logical. Putting it into a vow that couldn’t be broken no matter what the circumstances was nothing if not suicidal. If Bellatrix hated her for saying no then she was extremely sorry, but she refused to make such a vow.
“I can’t,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m sorry because I can promise you all of that, but putting it into a vow I am not prepared to do.”
“If you really mean what you say, then you’ll do it,” Bellatrix said stubbornly.
“I do mean it,” Hermione promised, and she pressed her own wet cheek against Bellatrix’s dry one. “But I can’t make the vow... what if something accidental happens?”
“How exactly would your tongue accidentally end up in Weasley’s mouth?” Bellatrix spat into her ear, causing Hermione to flinch.
Swallowing, Hermione shook her head. “No... that wouldn’t happen. But what if someone at Hogwarts thinks it’s funny to give me a love potion that makes me want to kiss Ron and I do uncontrollably? Or in the heat of the moment when we’re arguing, I state that I don’t belong to you? Or Ron tries to touch me without me wanting him to? Do you know what that means? I die.”
Comprehension dawned on Bellatrix’s face. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Hermione repeated. “Do you want to risk my death?” she asked, her voice quivering as she dreaded even asking the question.
“You know that’s not what I want!” Bellatrix denied vehemently.
“Then don’t ask me to do such a thing,” Hermione said. “Trust me when I say that I mean it. I love you. Don’t you remember what we read about Semper Amor? ‘There is no desire whatsoever for the lovers of Semper Amor to attempt relations or affairs with any other, thereby ensuring complete emotional faithfulness.’ And I have no physical desire to go near him either, so please, don’t worry.”
Some of the fire in Bellatrix’s eyes died, and she looked almost placated. “I will never let you leave me, so you’d better tell Weasley that.”
“I have,” Hermione said, because how much clearer could she be to Ron?
“No,” Bellatrix said, no longer shaking. She rested a hand against Hermione’s face, and at that very moment, Hermione knew she was starting to come around. “You write him a letter explaining your feelings, and that if he ever comes near you, he will have me and Cruciatus to answer to.”
“Fine,” Hermione said, at that point willing to agree to anything to make Bellatrix calm. She would have to rephrase the request so that it didn’t sound quite as threatening, but she would do what she had to do to keep Bellatrix.
“As for the matter of your parents,” Bellatrix continued, changing the topic suddenly. “It seems we will have to find them. I’m sure it’ll be possible, there are many ways of tracing people. Not to mention that your parents are Muggles... which means that they won’t have covered their tracks very well. The methods you employed to hide them can be the very same methods used to find them.”
“Do you really think so?” Hermione asked, disbelieving that Bellatrix meant what she said and that she had so easily changed the subject willingly.
“Yes,” Bellatrix said vehemently.
“Wh-why would you help me after what you’ve just found out?” Hermione asked timidly, voice quivering. It wasn’t that she intended to refuse the idea, but she just couldn’t believe that Bellatrix would offer such a thing out of the blue with no prompting whatsoever. “Aren’t you angry?”
“I’m fucking furious,” Bellatrix snapped. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to see you miserable.”
“You... you just said you want to keep me here to suffer,” Hermione said, reminded Bellatrix of the words she spoke less than five minutes ago.
Bellatrix sighed. “I didn’t mean it. Well, I did, but I think I’ve made you suffer enough lately. I can’t tell you that this isn’t an issue for me, but lashing out at you won’t change the past. I see that now. There was a time when I would have dealt with this by torturing you, but you have my word that I won’t do that today. I think that the Sedonus potion I have been taking is starting to help me control my affinity for causing pain.” Lightly, Bellatrix kissed the top of Hermione’s head.
That was all the proof that Hermione needed, and she was almost certain she was going to be forgiven at some point. It had been debatable for a brief moment whether Bellatrix was going to hurt her, but for the first time she had successfully managed to control herself. It was entirely bewildering to Hermione, but the fact she didn’t succumb to her anger helped Hermione to feel better about the whole situation, even if she did have several knots churning in her stomach.
Calmer, Hermione relaxed in Bellatrix’s arms, almost certain that the arguing was now over. She supposed the good thing about the intense fights they had was that they didn’t tend to drag on for days or weeks on end, not like her arguments with Ron always had. She dreaded sending the letter that Bellatrix wanted her to send to her former friend considering it would probably make him hate her even more, but seeing as they weren’t even civil at present anyway it wasn’t exactly going to be a great loss to her. Maybe it would make things more difficult in the long run, especially considering her friendship with Harry, but there was nothing about her life that was simple anymore. It was all part of growing up, and all she had to remember was that she wasn’t alone. No matter what, Bellatrix was here to stay. The thought should have scared her, and once upon a time it would have unequivocally terrified her, but now it just made her feel optimistic, despite the overshadowing aches of her parents.
At least I’m not alone. Not completely.
**