FIC: Impossible, (4/30)
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 is set during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events in 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.)
**
You're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature
finger-bangin' my heart
Ludo, Love Me Dead
**
4.
Two weeks later and Hermione’s days had turned into something of a routine.
Wake. Torture. Talk. Torture. Eat. Torture. Sleep.
The torture wasn’t always so frequent, but Bellatrix did visit her every single day, without fail. Some days she was crueller than others, allowing Hermione no break from the pain. Those were the days that Hermione despised, for nothing she said or did could convince Bellatrix not to hurt her. If anything, her begging simply spurred Bellatrix on to do an even better job of tearing her to pieces. She would laugh as Hermione screamed, taking great pleasure in the fact that she was one excellent witch breaking another equally as excellent witch.
Hermione counted each day that passed, judging roughly from when the sun came up every morning, and whenever Bellatrix wasn’t around, Hermione practiced Occlumency. She cleared her mind, focusing on keeping certain thoughts out of her head, and controlling her emotions. Never had she been given a lesson in her life on how to best protect her mind, but she thought she may be getting better; the last few days Bellatrix had failed to comment on things she happened to be thinking about in her presence; an indicator that she may be improving. She wouldn’t know if she was doing it right for sure until Bellatrix actively tried to force her way into her mind rather than just casually breaking in, but she supposed that Bellatrix would call her on it if she was successful, and she would most likely face punishment for her defiant behaviour.
The one thing that Hermione enjoyed each day was her visit from Lemmy, always with a lump of bread for her to eat. She couldn’t have cared less about the poor nutrition, (though the hunger pains did annoy her) and mainly she was just happy to see a friendly face. Sometimes Lemmy didn’t stay long, and Hermione got the impression that this was always when Bellatrix was in the house implying that the elf didn’t want to risk being caught. Other times, however, she stayed with Hermione, offering her company and conversation. Each time that she visited, Lemmy carried out basic tasks for Hermione, such as cleaning out the bucket in the corner and brushing the knots out of her hair. Hermione suspected that she hadn’t been told by Bellatrix to do the latter, but technically as Bellatrix hadn’t expressly forbidding her to do so, for the moment she was helping Hermione. More than ever, Hermione would have loved a bath or shower, but she knew that were Lemmy to wash her in any way then Bellatrix would know she was doing more than she should for her prisoner, and there would be harsh consequences for them both to face as a result. As an alternative she had been so desperate to wash that she had taken to scooping water out of her water bowl in an attempt to clean herself as best she could. It wasn’t very effective, but it was better than nothing.
Hermione had thought that over time, Bellatrix would soften towards her, that perhaps she would see that Hermione wasn’t anything horrible and disgusting. She hoped that Bellatrix would see past her heritage and that the blood flowing through her veins didn’t have an effect on the witch she was. Ever the optimist, Hermione had waited patiently so far, wanting the moment to come when there was a breakthrough and Bellatrix drastically changed her treatment of Hermione, even if her beliefs stayed the same. She had been wrong, however. There had been no signs or indications that Bellatrix had seen the error of her ways as far as Hermione was concerned, and if anything she seemed more determined than ever to torture her. There had been new forms of torture other than fire and curses, with Bellatrix using water (having her head shoved into what felt like an endless pool of water within her cell and feeling as though she was drowning had been one of the more hideous moments) and needles (a bed of them to be precise) also featuring. The only small mercy was that Bellatrix never let her skin scar, always taking the time to heal the most serious of injuries that she caused. Why this was Hermione didn’t know, but she presumed it was because Bellatrix liked to see the damage being caused on fresh skin, preferring to see what a drastic effect she produced with her spells.
Bored, Hermione was sitting against the wall and daydreaming of freedom exactly fourteen days after she had first been imprisoned by Bellatrix, when the dark haired witch entered the room.
“Afternoon, sweetie,” she said brightly, and Hermione forced herself not to roll her eyes. There was no need to antagonise Bellatrix if she was in a good (though utterly insane) mood and she should just enjoy it whilst she could.
“Good afternoon,” Hermione replied formally, looking up at Bellatrix. There was something different about her, but Hermione couldn’t put her finger on what exactly that something was.
“How are you today?” Bellatrix asked. “Keeping well?”
Some days, Bellatrix forced Hermione to go through a ridiculous process of asking pleasantries before she kicked off the torture. Of course, sometime she just entered firing off curses directed at Hermione and raging about something terrible that had happened, though she never told Hermione what these somethings that made her so angry were. Hermione assumed that it was whenever the Order had done something to hinder Voldemort, and so on these occasions she allowed herself a small surge of hope.
Even so, Hermione had no idea what the mundane questions were all about, though she guessed that it must be Bellatrix’s way of attempting to lure her into a false sense of security, to get her relaxed before she attacked once more. Privately, she thought this was ludicrous. She had yet to fall for it so far, and she most definitely wouldn’t at any future stage, and so it was about time Bellatrix just gave up.
“I’m fine,” Hermione answered, tone polite and giving the same answer she had already given several times before. “And yourself?”
“Marvellous, thank you,” Bellatrix said with a smile, and shocked, Hermione now noticed the difference in Bellatrix. Her teeth were shiny white, perfect against blood red lipstick. The magical dental work had improved her appearance drastically and increased her beauty tenfold; she now heavily resembled her picture on the tapestry from years ago, although of course she still looked gaunt and sickly. No doubt the stress she was currently under had an impact, but still, she looked like the woman she was meant to be and not a psychotic Death Eater.
Glancing downwards, Hermione took in the rest of her appearance. Her nails were now shorter, cleaner, no longer looking like claws but more human than ever before, although admittedly they were painted black. The rest of Bellatrix comprised of metal studded boots, midnight black clothes, heavy mascara on lashes that encircled chocolate brown eyes, raven coloured wild curls and defined cheekbones.
All in all, she looked beautiful. Gorgeous. Hot.
“You... you...” Hermione stuttered, and then realised that she did not want to say what she thought aloud. Moreover, she did not want Bellatrix to know what she was thinking, and so she hastily attempted Occlumency to the best of her limited ability. Racking her brains for something to finish the sentence with other than beautiful, gorgeous, or hot, she blurted out, “listened to me.”
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “I did not listen to you, Mudblood. I merely took notice of something that you brought to my attention and considered it myself,” she spoke harshly, but the pleased look on her face calmed some of the worry that had started to bubble up within Hermione.
“Well, you look nice,” Hermione said lamely.
“Nice? Just, nice?” Bellatrix said incredulously, looking slightly bewildered for a moment, before the confusion disappeared in another flash.
“What do you want me to say?” Hermione responded, hoping there hadn’t been a trace of sarcasm in her voice. She tried not to allow her emotions get the better of her, instead choosing to remain as blank as possible and focused on keeping Bellatrix out of her mind. Now that her curiosity had been peaked, Hermione suspected that she was going to try and see what Hermione was thinking by using her Legilimency skills.
“I want you to speak the truth, filth. Tell me what you really think,” Bellatrix demanded.
Hermione did her best to look puzzled at Bellatrix’s order, whilst also keeping her mind clear and safe. “But I already did.”
Bellatrix hissed. “Enough of this foolish time-wasting!”
And then it came. There was an active attack on her mind, Hermione could feel it. She tried not to let Bellatrix in, not wanting her to see her most private thoughts. She concentrated hard on protecting her mind and making sure that nothing related to Bellatrix slipped through. With great difficulty she thought about nothing, clearing her mind of anything and everything substantial as she had been practicing for hours at a time over the past couple of weeks.
Hermione did well. At first, anyhow. She blocked Bellatrix successfully, and she could easily sense the frustration pouring out of the older witch at the fact that she was unable to see the information she so badly desired. Hermione knew that she would most likely get tortured for this, that Bellatrix would try to weaken her defences, but it was worth it. Maybe next time, or the time after that, Bellatrix wouldn’t do so well, and eventually, months from now, Hermione would be truly accomplished in the art of Occlumency.
And then it happened; the barrier broke. Bellatrix had managed to gain access and was invading her innermost thoughts; the time she fell off her very first bike at three... answering the door to Professor McGonagall with her invitation to Hogwarts... dancing with Krum at the Yule Ball... meeting Bellatrix for the very first time at the Ministry of Magic...
Random flashes appeared before her eyes, and she was entranced, watching them all intently before she realised that bloody hell, Bellatrix can see this too! Focusing once more, knowing that any moment now something she did not want to be revealed would be, she put all her effort and might into resisting Bellatrix, and saw a memory of her laughing at Ron and Harry playing wizard’s chest appear, followed by her sitting in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class. And then suddenly, it stopped. She slumped forward, breathing hard, and there were no more images; only an intense feeling of exhaustion.
“You have been practising Occlumency, I see,” Bellatrix breathed. Lowering herself to the floor, she sat opposite Hermione, observing her.
“Yes,” Hermione said, seeing no reason to deny it. Bellatrix would only be infuriated further by her lies. She felt weakened from the minor attack, but still aware of her surroundings and pleased that she had managed to defend herself relatively well.
“Have you only been practising since you have been here?” Bellatrix enquired, her tone of voice giving away nothing.
“Yes.” Why lie? She’ll know.
Bellatrix paused, before she said grudgingly, “Then you have done well, Mudblood. You’re a smart one, hmm?”
Hermione shrugged, making sure she hid her surprise and slightly absurd happiness at such praise. “I suppose you could say that. I just like to learn.” And she did. She was naturally bright, she would admit that much, but the fact that she enjoyed reading, practising magic and learning about wonderful new things were the reasons that she was better than most others. If she hadn’t put so much effort into her education then she wouldn’t have been half as good as she was.
Bellatrix surveyed her, apparently considering her options. Hermione had no idea what was going on inside her head, but she seemed to be debating whether or not she should punish her. Nevertheless, Hermione wondered if she was so impressed by her attempt at Occlumency that she didn’t want to take any further action or whether she was angry enough to inflict pain upon her. Not wanting to provoke her further if the latter was the case, Hermione waited patiently in silence until Bellatrix eventually spoke.
“I have to be honest; I’m in two minds here. Do I reward you for being intelligent enough to prove yourself a decent adversary, or do I curse you until you beg for mercy?” Bellatrix said, confirming what Hermione had already suspected.
Hermione gave a nervous smile. “My answer would be biased.”
“I feel as though you’ve had an it easy since you’ve come to stay, but you’ve been well behaved other than a couple of incidents when you first arrived. It’s a tough decision,” Bellatrix pondered.
Shaking her head, Hermione couldn’t let that particular comment of Bellatrix go without disagreeing. “I don’t see how you can call being locked in a freezing cold cell, not being allowed to wash, only eating bread once a day, having to use a bucket as a toilet and sleeping on concrete flooring easy. You torture me everyday, you taunt me, call me names and humiliate me incessantly. It’s hell.”
Bellatrix laughed. “Oh dearie, you have no idea. You think you’ve had a rough dragon ride; Rodolphus keeps his Mudbloods chained to the wall naked, and invites a select few over for wild parties on a regular basis. Would you prefer that?”
Hermione glared. She didn’t care what Bellatrix said; she was not going to act as though she was grateful when quite frankly the mere suggestion that she had been treated well was a bizarre joke. She may not have to endure sexual torture, but she wasn’t exactly having fun either. “At least your husband doesn’t pretend to be anything he’s not,” she said calmly.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Bellatrix demanded, stiffening. Her posture was a warning to Hermione that she should back down now and not give her the satisfaction of turning the conversation into an argument, as it would only end badly for Hermione herself as opposed to Bellatrix.
“It means that he doesn’t chat nicely to his captives, or randomly have friendly chats with them,” Hermione said bluntly. “They don’t have to gauge his mood as he flits from happy to angry to insane like you do. What you see is what you get; at least with him there is consistency,” Hermione answered, keeping her voice entirely polite, though the connotations behind her words were clear. You’re a deranged bitch, Bellatrix.
“Fuck consistency,” Bellatrix shot back. “That’s boooooring!”
Not trusting herself to respond to this calmly, Hermione bit down on her tongue to stop herself from arguing. She tasted blood, and she flinched, cursing inwardly. You’re such an idiot, she thought. You suffer enough injuries from her, why do you need to cause your own as well?
Once more considering Bellatrix’s current behaviour, it was no wonder there were times when Hermione really couldn’t work out what went on inside of her. The Death Eater seemed to enjoy causing her pain and suffering, yet at the same time she thrived on the conversations they had, treating Hermione as an equal when it came to level of intelligence. She knew that she was faced with a bright witch, and acknowledged that which was entirely unexpected from Hermione’s point of view.
Nevertheless, she was still the worst walking nightmare that Hermione had ever had the misfortune of facing. Terrifying, ruthless, poisonous and despicable were just some of the many offensive adjectives that Hermione found herself using to describe Bellatrix in the relative safety of her own head. She was out for nobody but herself and Voldemort as far as Hermione could see. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes that seemed to rule over any hint of emotion that she showed, and Hermione didn’t know how she could ever break that, mould it into something good. Who’s really the disgusting one here; me or you? Hermione thought viciously.
“Kitty-cat got your tongue?” Bellatrix enquired with only a hint of sarcasm.
“No, I just don’t trust myself to say anything that isn’t offensive to you right now,” Hermione shot back.
Bellatrix smirked. “You’re ballsy for a Mudblood. I like it,” She confessed, twirling her wand. “I tell you what I’ll do. We’re going to play a game. For every... let’s say five seconds of the Cruciatus curse that you can tolerate without screaming, I will give you one basic reward.”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Too bad,” Bellatrix said, mock-sorrow in her voice. “Because I do. Crucio!”
Despite Hermione’s reluctance to play and the lack of any warning, something internal inside of her brain prevented her from crying out. She felt the by now familiar agony within; she was burning, bruising, tearing and bleeding inside all without it physically happening for real and only experienced the sensation. Nevertheless, considering the amount of times she had endured the curse over the past two weeks, she was strong enough to attempt the challenge at least, hoping it would be of benefit to herself.
The moment Bellatrix stopped attacking her, she slumped, hearing Bellatrix state, “Eleven seconds. That’s two rewards you’ll have!” She said, sounding happy. “I didn’t expect you to do it, if I’m honest. You have willpower, ickle one.”
Hermione ignored her, trying to get her breath back.
“It’s a shame you’re a Mudblood... could have done with someone such as yourself on our team,” Bellatrix said, sounding deadly serious.
Unable to even think straight at the moment, Hermione ignored this comment, and focused on the only comment of real interest to her that Bellatrix had made. Quietly, she croaked, “What rewards?”
“Nothing too extravagant,” Bellatrix mused. “I think your first reward can be a bath. Not yet though, let’s say about three days’ time?”
Giving a slow nod, Hermione took in the welcome news. No doubt Bellatrix was on some sort of power trip and hoping that Hermione kicked up a fuss so that she had yet another excuse to torture her and take away her gift. Not that she really needed a reason, but she seemed to be more enthusiastic about torturing Hermione if she felt that she truly deserved it.
Hermione was grateful of course, for the potential present, but she still couldn’t quite work out why Bellatrix was being so nice to her in the first place. Unable to resist, she asked, “Why are you doing this? Is there some ulterior motive that is going to be sprung on me at the last minute as a nasty surprise?”
“Not at all,” Bellatrix said, grinning. Once again Hermione focused on her perfect teeth, though this time she tried to stop herself from getting too distracted. “Now... what can your second reward be? Any suggestions?”
Hermione stared, wondering. She could only come up with one reason as to why Bellatrix would be so kind, and that was to lull her into a false sense of security before she struck again, making it all the more painful. She was the sort of Death Eater who truly loved inflicting pain and inducing fear in others, and so it was more than likely that this was the motive for her sudden generosity.
Playing along for the moment, knowing she should at least take advantage of what she was being offered so she got something out of this situation, Hermione replied, “How about a bed? Or an actual toilet? Or proper food more regularly? Or all three?”
Bellatrix grinned. “I think that’s just a tad greedy, don’t you?” She leant in towards Hermione, and breathed in a low voice, “I’ll have a think and get back to you.”
Hermione suppressed a shiver, and disguised it with a sigh. She supposed she would just have to wait and see if Bellatrix followed through with her declaration. In the meantime, if she behaved herself properly, there was no reason why Bellatrix should refuse at the last moment unless she had already decided upon doing so purely to wind Hermione up and prove who was in charge. Like I need reminding, Hermione thought bitterly.
“You don’t seem very happy,” Bellatrix observed, taking note of Hermione’s expression.
“I don’t have a lot to be happy about at the moment,” Hermione said quietly. “I miss my friends, I miss my parents and I miss my cat. I know I’ll probably never see any of them again. You wouldn’t know what that feels like.”
Now, she felt bitter. For someone such as Bellatrix who didn’t maintain normal human relationships and friendships, it would be impossible for her to understand the way that she felt at the moment. She didn’t just miss everyone, she felt guilty for making them worry, for the fact that she was of no use to them locked away in a disgusting little cell, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. No words could describe the intense pain that she constantly felt inside, that far outweighed any injury or torture that had been inflicted upon her so far. How could she put that into words? She couldn’t. Only someone in the same situation would be able to truly comprehend her thoughts.
“Excuse me? I was locked up for fourteen years in Azkaban!” Bellatrix shrieked, a sudden outburst echoing around the room. “I had to face Dementors every single moment of every day, sucking what life I had left inside me out. They may not have taken my soul, but they took enough... and you... you’ve barely been here two weeks and you DARE to tell me I don’t know how it feels?”
“But you don’t really feel, and you don’t have friends,” Hermione pointed out, somewhat cautiously, voice level. Even as she did so, her eyes fell to Bellatrix’s neck where the number ninety-three was tattooed on her neck; a visible reminder of the fact that she had been incarcerated in Azkaban. “Since when did love matter to you?”
“I...” Bellatrix stopped. She appeared lost for words, surprising Hermione. Like the previous discussion when Hermione first arrived and provoked this kind of reaction from Bellatrix, she was vulnerable, and Hermione felt as though she had a small chance of getting through to her. She suspected that the time would arrive when Bellatrix tortured her for her declarations, and so she hoped that if she didn’t push too hard, she could prevent any form of punishment.
“I’m not going to talk to you about your Lord,” Hermione said quickly, trying to pacify the older witch. “I’m not breaking the rules; I know that subject is not up for discussion. I just mean that... I guess I assumed if you don’t love, you don’t miss people. If I’ve got that wrong, I’m sorry.”
Bellatrix watched, her expression unreadable. She shuffled her legs underneath herself. “The Dark Lord does not allow for distractions as love; not when there is so much work to be done.”
Hermione tried to hide her shock at Bellatrix revealing such a fact, assuming that it would count against her. Instead, she argued gently, “But... you being here now and torturing me... that isn’t helping you get your work done. It’s a distraction, isn’t it? So if I wasn’t here, you would have time for...”
“Oh I see,” Bellatrix interrupted. “This a feeble attempt of yours to try and make me release your repulsive self, isn’t it?”
“No!” Hermione protested, not wanting Bellatrix to become angry once more. She was always furious, so terribly furious. “But your sister... well she doesn’t lock people up, does she? She spends her free time with her husband and son.”
“My family is not up for discussion either,” Bellatrix said in a low voice. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if I should put a permanent silencing spell on your lovely little mouth... I’d much prefer you that way.”
Hermione hoped that she wasn’t blushing at the warped compliment she had just been paid, but she assumed that the heat emanating from her cheeks suggested that she indeed was. Swallowing, she forced herself to apologise again with only one word. “Sorry.”
Bellatrix smirked at her, and Hermione wondered if she thought her blushes were because she was embarrassed because of the dressing down she had been given, or if the raven haired witch knew the real reason. She hoped that she didn’t, because if she did there was no doubt her life would be even harder. Besides, she didn’t fully understand why such a reaction had been stirred because of a simple flattering remark directed at herself; since when did she care what Bellatrix thought of her? She supposed she must be losing her mind after being locked away for so long, but until Bellatrix left her alone she wouldn’t be able to figure it out.
“See, it’s not so hard, is it love?” Bellatrix whispered. Hermione didn’t fail to note the term of endearment used, and she forced herself to keep eye contact with Bellatrix, not wanting her to know that she was afraid, even if Legilimency was easier to perform this way. “Be a good girl and do as I say; I’m sure then we’ll get along just fine in between the odd curse or two.” She brushed a thumb against Hermione’s cheek before she stood to leave, looking much calmer than she had a moment ago.
Heart thumping, Hermione watched as Bellatrix left. Shit, she mouthed silently. Shit.
**
November 1964
Defence Against the Dark Arts had been Bellatrix’s favourite lesson since she had started at Hogwarts the previous year. She had shown a natural aptitude for it far beyond that of her classmates, and they were often in awe of her ability to fully comprehend a spell before they had even managed to pronounce the incantation required in the correct manner. Her fellow Slytherin’s in the class admired her openly, whereas the Gryffindors either cast jealous looks her way or else ignored her entirely.
All that changed when Sebastian Franklin decided to talk about Bellatrix on the way out of class after learning about the “Jelly Jinxes” which the young, raven haired girl had immediately shown aptitude at performing. Moreover, any attempt that had been made to jinx Bellatrix herself had been entirely unsuccessful, something that had apparently irritated Sebastian further.
“It’s bad enough that she can carry out jinxes herself with no difficulty... but actually being capable of defending herself against every attempt at retaliation is even worse. There’s something not right about her,” Sebastian confided in his friend, Melody Loonstar.
“I know,” Melody agreed. “From the moment I met Black I remember seeing the way she looked at people. It’s like she’s capable of anything.”
Bellatrix considered this. Maybe she was capable of anything. Since she’d done as her parents said and began to value the purity of the blood in her veins, proving that she would make her family proud and associate with the right kind of wizards and witches, life had improved for her. Her father no longer shouted at her as much, and her mother actually had real adult conversations with her now. It was nice, she thought. She felt like for once she was close to her family, and she would let nothing get in the way of that; especially not a couple of arrogant Gryffindors who thought they could talk about her behind her back. This time last year that would have hurt her to hear, but now she rose above it, allowing the anger to seep out of every pore of her body.
“She most likely is. Arthur told me that her family are pure-blood maniacs... they hate Muggle-borns like me and think they’re somehow better.”
Closing in behind the gossiping pair, Bellatrix hissed at them, “Maybe I am.”
Jumping, they span around, Sebastian withdrawing his wand (Melody soon copied) and pointing it directly at Bellatrix. “Don’t you dare try anything, Black.”
Bellatrix laughed, and casually drew out her own wand, not taking the trouble to move swiftly. “I suggest you watch what you’re saying from now on then,” she drawled. “Now, I know we only practiced the Jelly-Fingers and Jelly-Legs Jinxes, and not the Jelly-Brain one as it’s much more dangerous, but I’ve just been itching to try it. Which one of you would like to be the subject?”
All around them, people had stopped, forming a circle as they watched the arguing students. Most of them gazed at Bellatrix fearfully, and Melody and Sebastian in horror, probably at the fact that they were provoking Bellatrix further.
“You will not lay a finger on Melody you disgusting little...”
“SILENCIO!” Bellatrix roared, and she waved her wand several times. Sebastian immediately stopped making any sound, and then, the incantations that Bellatrix had added silently in her head to her verbal spell took effect, and Sebastian began dancing wildly, a vacant expression on his face.
“You... what have you done?” Melody shouted, looking scared.
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” Bellatrix said dryly.
“But you didn’t...”
“Say the incantation?” Bellatrix interrupted her. “That’s because I used a non-verbal spell.” She silently thanked her father for teaching her the mechanics involved in this, and at the fact it had paid off for the first time.
Melody looked terrified, an expression echoed by many of the surrounding students watching. Non-verbal spells were a difficult feat to pull off at NEWT level, and to perform it as only a second year was unheard of.
“You know... I’ve taught your Mudblood friend a lesson for his rudeness, but it’s your turn now,” Bellatrix announced. “I think we’ll go for something different this time though.” She thought for a couple of seconds, and then, not wanting to risk being attacked first she thrust her wand in Melody’s direction, thinking to herself, Impedimenta!
It worked far better than she expected, and Melody was thrown ten feet in the air against the wall opposite. She sank to the floor, groaning, and a confused looking Sebastian danced over her way.
Bellatrix faced the crowd of people around her. There were a few grinning Slytherins amongst the rest of the terrified faces of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Spotting a couple of Gryffindors whom she didn’t know the names of, Bellatrix addressed them, “I’ll leave you to deal with them. After all, you Gryffindors can do anything, right?” She fixed them with a hard stare, daring any one of them to defy her. When she was met with silence, she turned away from her fellow students, and left for her next class, a satisfied expression on her face.
**
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