FIC: Impossible, (10/30)
Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :)
(1), (2) , (3a), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), ( 8), ( 9),
**
I'm a million different people
From one day to the next
I can't change my mind
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
The Verve, Bittersweet Symphony
**
10.
Although Hermione was grateful to be given some proper food, (and a clean towel to wear, not to mention the fact that she was given a toothbrush to brush her teeth with for the second time since her arrival) she was still terrified by whatever she was going to face that evening. She felt so sick that she didn’t want to eat, but she forced down every mouthful, knowing it was unlikely she would get this sort of treatment again. Lemmy had watched her, evidently under the orders of Bellatrix who didn’t want her to be left alone to sneak a kitchen knife under her towel. Even if she’d had the opportunity, Hermione wasn’t sure if she could have pulled it off; Bellatrix was a far above average witch, and armed with a wand, meaning that bar Hermione getting hold of a wand herself she didn’t have a chance against the Death Eater. Moreover, she doubted she was physically capable of it; taking a human life was not something that was easily done as far as Hermione was concerned.
Every step that Hermione took towards Bellatrix’s room made her rapidly increasing heartbeat thud in her chest, and she dragged her feet along, hoping to prolong her next encounter with Bellatrix for just a little longer. On her way to the bedroom she looked through doors she had not been near before, and noted that there was a large library through one of them, with a Pensieve visible in the centre. And books. Lots of beautiful books. Oh, how she missed the library and all that it had to offer! With a pang in her chest, she forced herself to continue following Lemmy, doing as she was told.
“Here we are Miss,” Lemmy said, stopping outside a door. It was shut completely, and Hermione realised that this must be Bellatrix’s bedroom.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Hermione asked, hoping for Lemmy to at least accompany her through the door.
“No Miss,” Lemmy shook her head.”Mistress Bella wants you to go in alone.”
“Oh, ok,” Hermione said, dread mounting. What was going through Bellatrix’s head? More games? Swallowing her fear, she said in a small voice, “Well, thanks for everything, Lemmy.”
“No problem, Miss Hermione. Goodbye!” Lemmy smiled and took a dramatic bow.
Before Hermione had a chance to reply, Lemmy had disappeared with a loud crack. Sighing, knowing she could put this off no longer, Hermione knocked on the door and waited for the sharp “Come in” before she entered nervously.
Bellatrix’s bedroom was different to how she had imagined it to be. Hermione had considered that it would be dark, dreary, and perhaps with a few heads of Muggles mounted on the wall. However, observing the walls she discovered them to be a deep gold colour, with a matching plush carpet beneath her feet. There was a large window overlooking the garden where a Willow tree could be seen, and a door next to the window that Hermione assumed led to the bathroom. Against the opposite wall was a dressing table with a wide mirror over it, two huge wardrobes, and a King Size bed that had curtains surrounding it, although these were drawn back to reveal Bellatrix wearing a black night dress, lying on the bed.
“Well well, don’t you scrub up well,” Bellatrix said in a cheery tone of voice, a grin on her face. Her curls fell around her face, and she looked the most relaxed and normal that Hermione had ever seen her.
Remaining silent, she stood in the doorway, waiting to be told what to do next.
Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix beckoned Hermione to come closer. Cautiously, Hermione stepped forward, jumping when Bellatrix pointed her wand directly at her and the door slammed behind her. She tried not to show fear on her face, but Bellatrix was an expert at reading the slightest bit of panic someone felt and picked up on it immediately. “Why do you look so worried, hmm little Muddy one?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” Hermione said slowly, not even attempting to deny that she was nervous and apprehensive about this new situation that had been presented to her. “Why am I here?”
“I thought that after the... incident with Rodolphus today, you could do with being pampered,” Bellatrix said brightly, sounding ever so slightly insane. “Or would you rather sleep in your cell?”
“Huh?” Hermione frowned. “I’m here to sleep?”
It seemed like such an innocent reason for her to be here, far beyond what Hermione had imagined to be the real explanation. She still didn’t trust Bellatrix one little bit, but something in the woman’s voice made her want to believe that she was telling the truth. There was the smallest bit of disappointment inside her, pulsing, but she chose to ignore that, just as she had on previous occasions. Under no circumstances was she ever going to allow herself to think about that.
“What else would you be doing here?” Bellatrix asked, confused. As Hermione blushed, she comprehended exactly what Hermione had thought to be the real reason, and flashed her another grin. “Ohh no. No, Granger; I’m not Rodolphus. I may enjoying playing with you and showing you who’s the boss, but having a little Mudblood girl sob underneath me whilst I shag her is not my idea of a turn-on.”
Cheeks darkening even more, Hermione looked down at the floor. She was so humiliated, stood here in her stupid bloody towel, having to listen to Bellatrix mock her. Part of her wanted to shout and argue back, but if she did that then Bellatrix would just throw her back downstairs into the freezing cell, and punish her accordingly. “That’s a relief,” she muttered.
“Unless you want me to shag you?” Bellatrix pressed on, ignoring Hermione. “Is that what you want, Mudbaby?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Hermione replied, looking up, shocked. “I have no desire for you to touch me. Ever.” She would ignore the thoughts in her head, because they weren’t real. Being locked in a cell for so long had apparently screwed up her mind, because that could be the only half-logical explanation for why she had images of Bellatrix in all the wrong contexts flickering through her head right now.
Realising just in time that Bellatrix was going to break into her mind, Hermione prepared herself straight away. Another period of hardcore practice meant that she had improved dramatically since the last occasion, and Hermione defended herself at once, even despite her current physical weakness. This time there were no random flashes before her eyes, no mini-breakthrough for Bellatrix, and she had a cast iron defence against the older witch’s Legilimency. Seconds passed and there was a sudden bang; she had somehow managed to disarm Bellatrix of her wand.
Bellatrix dived for her wand on the floor below her, as though Hermione would attempt to reach it before her, even though she was far closer and Hermione didn’t stand a chance. “How did you do that?” Bellatrix asked, shocked. “You don’t have a wand!”
Breathing hard, Hermione tried to stop herself from shaking, weaker than ever. She fell to her knees, unable to stand any longer. “Uncontrollable magic,” she said hoarsely. “I... I didn’t mean to do it so... well I didn’t need a wand.”
Bellatrix continued to observe her. “And you kept me out of your mind entirely. You’re getting better at Occlumency. How? And more to the point, why?” she sneered. “What are you thinking about that you don’t want me to see?”
Hermione had prepared herself for this question long ago, forming a believable answer in her head and forcing herself to sound stronger than she felt. “I’m getting better because I am bored out of my mind being stuck in that cell all day, and there is nothing else to do but spend hours practicing. As for why; I need a place to escape where I am alone, where I can think privately and just be me, Hermione, instead of your Mudblood. I’m not thinking about anything I don’t want you to see, I just want my own secret thoughts and my own little world to hide in sometimes,” she said passionately, and then she held her breath, hoping that Bellatrix would believe her, and not punish her for such an insolent answer. Or try harder to break into her mind so she didn’t stand a chance if Bellatrix continued to try and overpower her defences, her energy seeping away more and more each time.
Appearing amazed at Hermione’s reply, Bellatrix nodded, eyes wide, speechless. She’d gotten away with it. Thank you.
“Now, if you really did invite me here to sleep, can we please just go to bed now? I’m exhausted,” Hermione said, cocky, but sure she could get away with it. For good measure, she added, “I think I need a decent night’s sleep to help my wounds heal properly; your house-elf did everything she could but there is still some pain.”
“Fine,” Bellatrix said sharply. “We shall sleep.”
Hermione staggered over to the bed in relief, but before she could lie down, Bellatrix had slapped her backwards. Confused, Hermione drew back. “What have I done?”
“You idiot,” Bellatrix said, seething. “You’re not sleeping in my bed; you’re sleeping on the floor below! I’m going to bind your legs together to stop you trying to escape or do anything stupid, but I’ll leave your hands free because I am trusting you at least that much to behave yourself, ok?”
Inexplicably, Hermione felt deflated to know that she was going to be separate from Bellatrix, sleeping below her. My place in life. Below, underneath, never pure. It made her feel vulnerable to lie on the carpet directly beneath and next to Bellatrix’s form, for she knew intrinsically the older witch had her wand in hand, though she could no longer see her. The moment that Bellatrix bound her legs she felt even worse, and lying still, Hermione tried to calm herself. It didn’t help her to feel any better when Bellatrix switched off the lights, enveloping them both in darkness. Trying to breathe quietly, Hermione told herself that it was going to be ok, that this was still her chance of the best night’s sleep in a while with the carpet underneath her instead of a freezing, dirty stone floor.
Bellatrix was unlikely to be fully asleep, Hermione knew, just in case anything happened in the night that would require her to act swiftly. Not that she had any intention of provoking the Death Eater, but if Hermione were reckless like Harry or idiotic like Ron, it was quite likely that she would attempt to attack Bellatrix. As it was she didn’t have the nerve; she knew that even if Bellatrix slept, it was unlikely to be such a deep sleep so as to allow Hermione to steal her wand.
No, Bellatrix was too smart for that.
All in all, Hermione couldn’t exactly figure out why she was there in the first place anyway. Was it so that Bellatrix could keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t take a turn for the worse seeing as she had apparently become so fond of Hermione? No, her injuries were healed; Bellatrix had no reason to believe that anything would happen to her. Or was it that she was worried that Rodolphus would come back and attack Hermione once again? Though it was unlikely he would be so stupid as to directly disobey Bellatrix, from what Hermione had seen she was far more skilled a witch than he was a wizard.
So why?
The cogs in Hermione’s head kept on turning, over and over, wondering.
When it felt like an hour had passed and Hermione was still awake, she sighed, and then shivered. She was freezing. It was warmer than her cell, but despite it being summer, Hermione was still cold at night without a duvet. Not to mention that she was only wearing a thin towel that didn’t exactly keep her warm. As if that wasn’t enough, she desperately needed to use the bathroom. She huffed aloud. Sleeping in Bellatrix’s room was causing more problems than it was worth.
And then, Bellatrix’s voice penetrated the darkness, sounding curious. “Why are you still awake?”
“Can’t sleep,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m cold and I need the bathroom. Just... just put me back downstairs and I’ll be alright.”
Bellatrix gave a long and drawn out sigh. “Go to the bathroom.”
“What?” Hermione said, bewildered by Bellatrix’s apparent permission. It sounded as though she were being told she could use the bathroom alone, but that couldn’t possibly be right. Could it?
“Just go,” Bellatrix told her, and she must have flicked her wand, because Hermione suddenly found that her legs were no longer bound together. “There’s one through the door to the left of the window. Remember, I’m trusting you.”
“O-Ok. Thanks,” Hermione said, and hurriedly, she got up and did what she had been told she could, stumbling slightly as she got used to moving her legs once more in the dark. She shut the bathroom door behind her and did what she needed to do without turning the light on or trying to escape, telling herself that despite being allowed more privileges, there was still no way she would be able to run away. Bellatrix wouldn’t be allowing her to do this alone if there was even the slightest chance she could and so she obeyed, and didn’t do anything that would earn her another round of the Cruciatus curse.
Upon entering the bedroom again, Hermione made her way over to the patch of floor she had previously been sleeping on, grateful that at least she had been allowed to use the toilet. Maybe now she would be more comfortable and so tired that she could more easily fall asleep. With a bit of luck, hopefully the carpet where she had been lying would still have retained the small amount of body heat that she had been giving out and that would give her warmth.
“Get in,” Bellatrix said, just as Hermione was about to lie down.
“Get in where?” Hermione asked. Did Bellatrix mean what she assumed she did?
Sounding impatient, Bellatrix simply responded, “To bed.”
“To your bed?” Hermione checked.
“Do you see any other beds in here?” Bellatrix snapped. “Just get in before I change my mind. And don’t even think about snivelling that you’re cold; if the duvet doesn’t keep you warm enough then I honestly don’t care, but I’m tired and have no desire to traipse back down to the cellar with you at this hour.”
Hermione slowly made her way over to the other side of the bed, doing as she was told. Her heart thudded fast as she realised that she would be in closer proximity to the Death Eater than she usually was, and would be lying next to Bellatrix in a most vulnerable state, even if she was armed with a wand. Climbing in, moving as little as possible, Hermione whispered, “Thank you.”
Bellatrix ignored her.
“Did you hear me? I said...”
“Yes, I know what you said,” Bellatrix interrupted. “I’m actually trying to sleep, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I just... after I spoke to you last week and then you didn’t come back, I thought you would punish me worse than ever before after what I’d said,” Hermione confessed. “But you’ve been nice to me in your own way and... I just wanted you to know that I appreciate it. Wars aside, torture aside... when you’re not acting totally bloody mental.”
She forced herself to stop talking. Why had she said that? Bellatrix wasn’t going to give a damn that she felt that way towards her, and any second now she was going to jump out of bed and begin torturing her again for reminding her of what they had last spoke about before she had disappeared for a week. Inwardly cursing, Hermione tensed, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing herself for the onslaught that was about to hit her, both physical and psychological.
When it still hadn’t come after thirty seconds or so, Hermione cautiously opened her eyes again. She wondered whether Bellatrix had fallen asleep or was just ignoring her entirely. Either way it didn’t really matter to her, and so she sighed, pulling the duvet upwards to try to fall asleep.
“I was going to torture you, I decided this morning,”
Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and she turned to face Bellatrix’s silhouette.
“But when I came back and Lemmy informed me that Rodolphus was downstairs with you, I was furious at him, and I decided there was no point. If I had tortured you after everything he had already done this evening, you wouldn’t survive the night,” Bellatrix said, voice expressionless for the most part, with only a hint of anger seeping through.
“But... why does me dying really matter?” Hermione asked finally. “You could easily replace me.”
Bellatrix took a moment to consider the question. “I don’t know, Granger... I suppose it’s because I’m used to you,” she admitted. “And you’re smart and actually sort of interesting, even despite your dirty blood.”
Hermione stored away the fact that Bellatrix had called her Granger as opposed to Mudblood or another offensive name for the third time. Nevertheless, she needed to focus on Bellatrix at the moment, as she was too enthralled in the conversation to truly consider why.
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Hermione persisted, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on inside of Bellatrix’s mind. “You killed your own cousin, for Merlin’s sake. And laughed immediately after you did it. Who does that? There was no remorse, nothing. You just... cheered.”
Bellatrix turned to face her, murmuring Lumos and bringing a dim light to the room from her wand, which she now clasped in between herself and Hermione. “No. I didn’t kill him,” Bellatrix said, her face glowing in the light, eyes staring directly into Hermione’s own.
Exasperated, Hermione sat up. She had been there when Sirius died, she had seen the fatal curse hit him straight in the chest, knocking him through the veil from which he failed to return. It had been horrible to see him fall in such a way, for Harry to be unable to bury his own godfather and say goodbye properly. “Yes you did; I saw you. I was there.”
Bellatrix shook her head. “No. No, you saw my body killing Sirius, not me. Anyway, the torture is my favourite part... if I’m honest, killing is entirely overrated.”
She’s lying, was Hermione’s immediate thought, before she really considered the raven haired witch’s words. There was no one Hermione could think of that Bellatrix had killed; her most infamous crime had always been the torture of the Longbottoms, although obviously she had stated she was not responsible for that. In general, Bellatrix’s speciality had always been hurting people, not killing them. And it was quite possible, Hermione surmised, that she was telling the truth. She took pleasure in causing people pain, but death would only have ended that pain, so why would she bother? Maybe Bellatrix had always left that part up to other people. In which case... Hermione was not faced with an evil killer. Just an evil torturer, which was only marginally better.
“What are you trying to say?” Hermione frowned, working out the logistics of Bellatrix’s declaration. “That you were under the Imperius Curse?”
“No.”
“Then what?!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re not making any sense, and if you want me to believe you then you’re going to have to explain.”
Bellatrix retorted, “I don’t care whether you believe me or not.”
Adapting her tone of voice, wanting to hear the rest of what the Death Eater had to say, Hermione forced herself to speak more softly. It was easier than she’d imagined, especially considering Bellatrix’s kind treatment of her that evening. “I understand. Please, will you just explain?”
Endless seconds bled into one another, until eventually, Bellatrix spoke. “The day of the prophecy retrieval at the Department of Mysteries the Dark Lord wished to be present throughout. He did not, however, wish to reveal himself at first, preferring to take a backseat. He believed that by observing Potter he could learn more of his methods, understand how he fought. All his previous encounters with Potter had not exactly allowed him to learn how he fights, how he truly thought, and so before he faced Potter in person, he wished to know how best to deal with him. He wanted to do so without any of the Order knowing he was there, and so he took the decision to attend, quite literally, in someone else’s skin,” Bellatrix explained. “Especially after all the mistakes that have been made.”
Hermione stayed quiet, waiting for Bellatrix to carry on with her story.
“The Dark Lord took the decision that to do this, he should possess another. In other words, he possessed me. He already knew my mannerisms, how to act and talk like me. Why should anyone suspect? The inner circle knew, of course, and so they were aware that no matter what, I had to get out of the Ministry alive. It would have caused too much trouble if I had been captured, and that’s part of the reason that the others distracted The Order so much whilst my Lord left the battle to confront Potter alone.” Bellatrix continued.
“Did you know what was happening in the battle?” Hermione asked, curious.
“I was entirely unaware of all the events that had occurred until later on,” Bellatrix said. “Possession does not work the same way as the Imperius curse; it is a dark powerful magic that few can achieve.”
Before she allowed Bellatrix to continue, Hermione interjected, “But... but I don’t understand. When Harry was possessed by... him... he was in agonising pain, but he remembered what was happening. Is that because of his connection with... with your Lord, or are all possessions like that? How could you let him do that for so long in so much pain?”
Bellatrix shook her head. “I wasn’t in pain; it was just a blank. I know nothing of what happened other than the memories I have been shown from Rodolphus and Lucius, and as for Potter and the Dark Lord’s connection, well I have no idea. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” Bellatrix sniped. “The moment the Dark Lord left my body was when your dear Potter threw his feeble Cruciatus Curse my way, and I tripped, unaware of where I was and why The Dark Lord had suddenly made the decision to reveal himself.”
“It was because he wanted to kill Harry in his own body, when Harry was alone and defenceless as far as he was concerned. Until Dumbledore turned up,” Hermione said, making sure she kept all anger at bay. She wanted to see if there was anything useful she could learn from Bellatrix.
“I know that now,” Bellatrix said, sharply. “But the point is that I didn’t kill Potter’s darling godfather.”
Hermione was almost ready to believe her; she just had one other question. “What about when you ran through The Burrow shouting that you had?”
“I was provoking Potter for The Dark Lord,” Bellatrix said plainly. “Trying to draw him out of safety as I had been ordered to do.”
It seemed like such an easy explanation to Hermione, and it did make sense, but she was still in two minds as to whether she should believe Bellatrix or not. This woman was a Death Eater, said to be Voldemort’s most faithful servant. She was capable of torture, which Hermione had experienced for herself, and so Hermione had always assumed her to be capable of murder. Now that she had evidence to the contrary though... well why would Bellatrix lie? She had not changed sides and she was not begging for forgiveness. It wasn’t even a proper confession; it was just one person admitting the truth to another. An admission yes, but not an admission of guilt by any means. Nevertheless, it did beg the question; why was she making such confessions to Hermione of all people? The Mudblood. The filth. The Scum of the Earth.
“Why... why are you telling me this?”
Bellatrix paused, seemingly thinking to herself. Eventually, she answered, sounding confused, “I don’t know. I don’t know... who I am around you anymore. I don’t know why.”
“I’m getting to you,” Hermione stated, realising with certainty that this wasn’t a game anymore. Bellatrix’s voice was just that little bit too raw, her kindness to Hermione just that little bit too much. Hermione could sense the changes happening, though she couldn’t say how or why Bellatrix was not as vicious as before. She was no Legilimens, unfortunately, and psychology only got you so far.
“Yes,” Bellatrix said, not even bothering to deny it. She breathed deeply. “If... if the Dark Lord becomes aware of it, he will kill you. Or tell me to kill you, which I will be forced to do.”
“But you just said killing is overrated,” Hermione told her, and as she said it, she realised that she truly believed it. The knowledge that she now possessed that Bellatrix had not killed Sirius had made her see the older witch in an entirely different light. For whatever reason there was something about Hermione that perplexed Bellatrix to the extent that she couldn’t treat her with only cruelty, but felt the need to engage her in conversation and be nice on occasion.
“I am a torturer and a Death Eater, so if it is necessary, then I would kill you easily,” Bellatrix maintained, before adding proudly, “I even volunteered to kill Potter!”
“There is a big difference between causing someone pain and ending their life,” Hermione spoke carefully, not allowing herself to worry about Harry at the moment, or Bellatrix’s declaration. It was important to remember what she had done, not what she had threatened to do. “Killing damages the soul.”
Bellatrix shrugged, her shadow moving with her in the darkness. “I beg to differ.”
“Bellatrix,” Hermione said, speaking urgently now. She shifted over in the bed, drawing closer to Bellatrix than she had ever dared to before. She could feel the heat radiating from her skin, pulling her in. “Please, just listen. I... I can help you. The Order can help you. I’ll tell them what you’ve told me, and you won’t have to live like this anymore.”
“I love this. The war... the fighting. It makes me feel alive!” Bellatrix said passionately. “What exactly gives you the impression that I don’t want to live like this?”
“Gut instinct,” Hermione whispered. “There is so much that can make you feel alive that doesn’t derive from pain and suffering. And if you truly hated Mudbloods then you wouldn’t be able to stand being near me, let alone allowing me to sleep in your bed.” Shakily, she reached over to Bellatrix, and not wanting to appear threatening to the other woman by touching her hands which clasped her wand in front of her, instead opted for touching her face. “Would you?”
Eyes widening at Hermione’s touch, Bellatrix noticeably stiffened. “This is wrong,” she said, so quietly that Hermione barely heard her. “My parents... my Lord. If they knew...” she stopped talking, unable to finish the sentence.
“No, what you’re doing for Him is wrong. The way you’re feeling now is just proof that you’re human,” Hermione said, conviction pouring from her voice.
Throughout, she kept her hand against Bellatrix’s cheek, attempting to ignore the overwhelming urge inside her to kiss the other woman. She had tried to discount her thoughts, putting them to the back of her mind which was something that was far easier when Bellatrix was treating her badly. Here though, when Bellatrix appeared so vulnerable and now that Hermione had realised that it was Voldemort’s brainwashing and as she had just hinted at, her upbringing that had caused her to think this way, she saw things differently. It was getting harder to resist doing what she felt like doing with Bellatrix, for more reasons than merely bringing out the good in her.
“Changing allegiance now would mean death for me,” Bellatrix said, a soft bitterness in her voice. “I would be second on the Dark Lord’s hit list, directly after Harry Potter. And you would be third, as the person responsible for converting me.”
“I know it’s a risk,” Hermione acknowledged. “But you need to be brave. Please.”
“I am not a Gryffindor,” Bellatrix asserted.
“I’m not saying that you are,” Hermione said, shifting closer still. “But I believe that you can do this.”
“I still hate Mudbloods,” Bellatrix said, louder now, determined.
“Do you hate me?” Hermione said, and to her credit, her voice only quivered slightly. For the most part she had been able to keep her emotions under control and remain strong; something that she believed to be essential to making Bellatrix come around to her way of thinking.
“No.”
Bellatrix’s immediate reply and resolute tone sent a rush through Hermione’s veins. She doesn’t hate me. Had Bellatrix told her otherwise in this moment of honesty, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to continue being so strong, but her admittance had given Hermione the courage she needed to act, and fast. This couldn’t wait until morning, or until the clear light of day, because by then Bellatrix would most probably have seized up again and all of Hermione’s hard work would have been undone. Besides, she wasn’t sure that she was even capable of forcing herself to wait so long, not when the intense feeling was overwhelming her beyond everything else at this very moment in time.
Slowly so as not to startle Bellatrix, Hermione moved towards her. She placed a gentle kiss against the older witch’s mouth, not overdoing it by forcing contact, and leaving Bellatrix with the option to pull away easily if she wanted. When she met no resistance, Hermione sucked on her bottom lip, making every effort not to moan aloud and to focus on Bellatrix’s feelings. Although she had yet to respond, Hermione persevered, sure that it was just taking time for her to react and to snap herself out of the shock.
She was right. Seconds later and Bellatrix had let go of her wand, throwing herself on top of Hermione, dominating the kiss. Her need for control had made itself apparent, but Hermione didn’t care, she only wanted Bellatrix to reciprocate. Wrapping her legs around Bellatrix, she pushed herself upwards, forcing more contact between their bodies, and grasping the curls on Bellatrix’s head in her fists. Her heart was beating fast, not through fear, but through excitement and longing, something that she had never experienced in this way before. There was almost an electrical charge running through them both, connecting Hermione to Bellatrix. It was a bond that could never be broken to the extent where it felt as though they may even been slightly raised from the bed, kissing in the air.
Somehow it was an intense sensation, more than just a kiss. Hermione couldn’t explain it, she didn’t know how to, but she knew that this wasn’t just lust, or even love. There was the feeling of her body melting into Bellatrix’s, almost as though they were becoming one, and Hermione wondered if Bellatrix too was experiencing this. She was certain that there was something inexplicable going on as though she was under the influence of a love potion like Amortentia, but she knew this couldn’t be true. Not considering the circumstances of the kiss, or the delay, or the fact that she hadn’t drank since dinner. Besides, who would have drugged both of them? All she knew was that whatever this was, it was real, intense and overpowering. It didn’t matter that Bellatrix was a Death Eater, or a horrible person.
Nothing mattered except the kiss, and Hermione never wanted it to stop.
**
(( CLICK HERE for part 11 ))