FIC: Impossible (11/30)
Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :)
(1), (2) , (3a), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), (8), ( 9), (10),
**
Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow
And that your saints and sinners bleed
We weren't born to follow
You gotta stand up for what you believe
Bon Jovi, We Weren’t Born to Follow
**
11.
March 1969
Whenever Bellatrix thought of her impending marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, she felt like vomiting. The thought alone of allowing him to touch her was enough to make her want to scream until her throat was raw, or to jump into the shower and scald away all the horrific thoughts. Ordinarily she would have gone out, bought a bottle of Firewhiskey and downed it straight, late at night in the privacy of her own room, or used her enchanted razor for more than just shaving her legs. Neither were particularly healthy choices, but other than the very first night she had found out she was to be wed Rodolphus, Bellatrix had not allowed herself to cry. Crying was a sign of weakness, after all.
Now though, at the Engagement Party held at her parent’s home, her options for escape were severely limited. Tears, alcohol and razors were all big no-no’s, because the first would smudge her impeccable makeup, the second would render her incapable of intelligent speech, and the razor would mean risking blood on her dress. And so, claiming to need to use the bathroom, she had slipped away from the celebrations downstairs, and hidden herself in her own room for a few moments’ peace.
Apparently though that was going to be impossible, judging by the fact that her younger altogether different cousin, Sirius Black, had just taken it upon himself to barge into her room. He always had irritated her, though at times she did struggle to stop herself from laughing as he wound up her Aunt Walburga to the point where her eyes bulged out of her head and she turned a violent shade of purple. Nevertheless, there was no way Bellatrix could admit this in front of her parents or aunt and uncle, for they would most likely punish her, stating that she was old enough to know better.
“Why are you up here?” he asked inquisitively.
“None of your business,” Bellatrix snapped, not having to put on false pretences now that she was away from the watchful eye of her parents and the Lestranges. “Fuck off.”
Sirius made a face. “That’s not very nice.”
“Well you shouldn’t barge into other people’s bedrooms then,” Bellatrix retorted, knowing that she sounded petulant but unable to stop herself all the same. Maybe picking on her younger cousin would make her feel better, if only for a few minutes.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, though he didn’t sound apologetic at all.
Bellatrix stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to leave. She wanted this to be alone time, and he was seriously eating away into the few minutes she had left. Sirius however failed to get the message, and merely grinned at her, the dimples in his cheeks making him look younger than his ten years. His grey eyes sparked out at her, daring her to smile at him or to even to engage him in conversation. She didn’t need to be a Legilimens to realise he was bored out of his mind by the adults and was looking for some entertainment.
Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix huffed at him half-heartedly. “Can you leave now?”
“Nope!” Sirius said, and he bounced onto Bellatrix’s bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Who says there’s something wrong?” Bellatrix said defensively.
Sirius shrugged. “You seem cranky for someone who’s supposed to be excited about getting married.”
“It’s not exciting,” Bellatrix said, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop herself. By the time she had realised what she had confessed it was too late, and Sirius was frowning at her. She braced herself for the onslaught of abuse that was sure to come from a fellow Black, even at his young age. He would tell her that she was lucky to be getting married to such a respectable pure-blood, that she should be honoured. He would say that she was being selfish, difficult and...
“If you don’t love Rodolphus, then why are you marrying him?” Sirius interrupted her thoughts, frowning.
... or not.
So surprised was Bellatrix at the question, that she forgot to be rude when answering. “Because he is the right sort of pure-blooded man that my parents want me to marry, and I need to uphold the family name.”
Sirius frowned, confused. “But that’s stupid. Why can’t you just marry who you want?”
“Because I... we, are Blacks,” Bellatrix told him. “One day, this is going to happen to you too, you know.” Apparently, her aunt and uncle hadn’t yet deigned to tell Sirius of his future. Well, there was no point him having false hope for any longer; he needed to realise exactly what he would be facing in just several short years’ time.
“No it won’t,” Sirius denied, eyes flashing defiantly. “I’ll run away before it ever happens to me. If I get married it’s gonna be because I love someone, not because of their blood or whatever.”
Bellatrix gave a wry laugh. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy? Wake up, Sirius.”
“I already have. I know what it is to be a Black, and I don’t care. I like being different,” he said proudly. “When I go to Hogwarts next year I’m gonna be friends with who I want. Don’t even care if I’m not in Slytherin... so long as I’m not in Hufflepuff!”
Bellatrix shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. Well, on his head be it. “You’re making a huge mistake. We Blacks are pure, better than everyone else! You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
“I do,” Sirius disagreed. “You’ll understand one day, Bella. Maybe not now, but when you’re thirty or something. When Rodolphus is older and fatter.” He grinned. “Haha. Gross!”
Despite the completely, one hundred percent not funny situation, despite her irritation with her younger cousin and her disapproval of his beliefs, Bellatrix found herself grinning back. She understood better than Sirius realised, but he had yet to learn that she had long ago forced herself to forget that understanding and simply do as she was told. Sirius might go against the family and live life the way he wanted to, and if he did, then that was his prerogative. He’d have Andromeda for support anyway, because the chance of her ever returning home was close to zero. Bellatrix, on the other hand, doubted that she would ever be that sort of person.
Never.
Never ever.
**
Upon waking the next morning, it took a few minutes for Hermione to gather her thoughts and remember where she was. Waking up in an unfamiliar location, no matter how comfortable was extremely disconcerting in itself, but to discover that she was lying in the arms of Bellatrix Lestrange was enough to make her freeze momentarily, even despite the innocent, relaxed expression on the older witch’s face. Once she had ran through the events of the previous evening in her head, she calmed slightly, understanding how she had come to be in such a position. Whilst she considered her thoughts, Bellatrix slept on, unaware for the moment that Hermione was now wide awake.
In all honesty, she was worried about how Bellatrix would react towards her in the cold light of day, as there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t curse Hermione the moment that she woke up. Searching around with her eyes, Hermione tried to locate Bellatrix’s wand, hoping that she could get hold of it to prevent such a thing happening. Spotting it behind Bellatrix’s back, she carefully untangled her arm from underneath Bellatrix’s, and grasped the wand in her hand. It was a miracle she even managed to do it without waking Bellatrix up, and slowly, she leant over, pushing the wand below her own pillow. She didn’t want Bellatrix to rouse from her sleep and become startled at her holding it, thinking that Hermione was going to attack.
It felt a little crazy to let go of the wand after not having one for so long, but after last night there was no way that Hermione was going to attempt to escape, even with possession of a wand. She was still going to try to bring Bellatrix around to her way of thinking with just a little more hard work. If Bellatrix could see that Hermione could take possession of her wand and then let it go again without trying to betray her, then she might give Hermione some leeway and not shut her up in the cell all day, which with a bit of luck would give her a chance to speak to Bellatrix further.
After watching Bellatrix peacefully sleep for a few more moments, Hermione made the decision to wake her. Gently, she traced a thumb over Bellatrix’s soft lips, and shook her arm ever so slightly with her other hand. “Bella,” she whispered, the nickname easily falling off her lips, though it felt a little strange. “Wake up.”
Bellatrix began to stir, and although Hermione continued to lie on her body, she moved away slightly so as to allow her room to manoeuvre once she had fully woken. Blinking heavily, Bellatrix rubbed her eyes, and the second that she saw Hermione she jumped back, now fully awake. Eyes darting around, Hermione knew that Bellatrix was searching for her wand with which to either threaten Hermione or defend herself if she was under the impression that Hermione was going to attack her.
“Wait,” Hermione begged, trying to calm Bellatrix down before things got out of hand. “Just stay calm, Bellatrix!”
An expression of fury on her face, Bellatrix raised her hand to hit Hermione. Dodging the blow, Hermione grasped Bellatrix’s arms in an attempt to stop her. Struggling, Bellatrix managed to flip herself on top of Hermione, for she was far stronger and no match for Hermione in her weakened state. “Where is my wand?” she hissed.
“I... I’ll tell you when you calm down,” Hermione gasped, struggling to breathe with Bellatrix digging a knee into her stomach. “Please, stop.” She prayed that Bellatrix didn’t try to summon her wand before she’d been able to make Bellatrix see that she wasn’t a threat. Please, don’t do this.
Bellatrix hit her. “You don’t tell me what to do! You have no right you pathetic little Mud...”
“Bellatrix!” Hermione interjected, before the older witch could finish her sentence, ignoring the throbbing pain in her cheek. “Just... just listen to me. I could have... have threatened you with your wand or tried to escape, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Please, just remember what happened last night and calm down.”
Breathing heavily, Bellatrix looked Hermione up and down, seeming to consider her words. Her expression changed from fury to confusion, and her eyes locked with Hermione’s. At once, Hermione knew it was because she remembered, and her belief was confirmed as Bellatrix sneered, “Do you honestly think that one moment of weakness on my part is going to change everything?”
“No,” Hermione stammered. “But something inexplicable happened last night, it wasn’t just a kiss. Think about it... have you ever experienced a feeling like that before?”
“No, because I’ve never kissed a Mudblood before,” Bellatrix spat cruelly.
Ignoring the stab of pain in her chest as Bellatrix’s words hit her full force, Hermione persevered. She hadn’t come this far just to give up at the first hurdle; she was determined to make Bellatrix understand that there was something real (albeit unidentified) between them. It was the craziest thing in the world, to think that she had feelings for a Death Eater, but for all she had learnt about Bellatrix, she suddenly didn’t seem as bad. The crimes which she had so badly hated her for hadn’t been committed by Bellatrix in the way she imagined, and regarding the countless other crimes which she no doubt did commit, Hermione chose to ignore for the moment, not thinking about the fact Bellatrix felt no remorse.
“Forget about blood,” Hermione told her, shifting upwards and firmly pushing Bellatrix’s knee away from her now that the older witch had calmed down. “You’re a pure-blood, I understand. But you don’t hate me; you said so yourself.”
Eyes widening, Bellatrix exclaimed in a frustrated voice, “That doesn’t make this acceptable!”
Hermione shook her head. “You don’t get it, Bella. The blood inside us is irrelevant; it is how we feel that matters. I might be crazy and insane for it, but I care about you. Doesn’t that mean something? How can you want to hurt me when I feel this way about you?”
“I have been taught to hurt people like you for as long as I can remember,” Bellatrix said, and Hermione noted that her voice was trembling. “It doesn’t matter how beautiful you are, or how lovely and special and kind, you aren’t a pure-blood, or even a half-blood. In my Lord’s eyes, you are scum.”
“But not yours,” Hermione whispered. “Not anymore, it’s written all over your face that you don’t feel that way.” Bellatrix no longer held the same amount of hatred in the swirls of colours, for now all Hermione could see was confusion, as though Bellatrix wasn’t quite aware of what was happening to her.
The raven haired witch let out a sigh of frustration. “I have to ignore the way I feel! Have to! Or do you want us both to die? Because that is what will happen when my Lord finds out!”
He doesn’t have to find out, Hermione thought silently. Bellatrix could keep this a secret; she was accomplished at Occlumency, more than likely to the extent of being able to prevent Voldemort from seeing what she didn’t wish him to see if he wasn’t looking. Which he wouldn’t be, because he trusted Bellatrix implicitly. If Bellatrix really wanted to, she could change sides or turn double agent for the Order. But that was the main issue here, Hermione reminded herself. She didn’t want to. Other than her mystifying feelings for Hermione, she was still the same Bellatrix. Above all else she loved her Lord, and Hermione couldn’t compete with that, no matter how hard she tried.
“Then you have to make a choice,” Hermione said, thinking aloud. “I know that you will never choose me over him so the way I see it, you have three options. You can keep me locked up, let me go, or kill me.” She pushed Bellatrix off her, reached under her pillow, and threw Bellatrix’s wand back to her. “Whatever you decide, I’m not going to fight you.”
Bellatrix stared, a look of utter desperation in her brown eyes as she internally battled with herself. Hermione didn’t know exactly what was going through her head, but she would bet that it was tearing her apart in the same way that her own thoughts were eating away at her. She knew now that Bellatrix would never willingly go with her to the Order; not like this. Until something happened to make her realise what she could have if she gave up her service to Voldemort, she would not change her ways. Not for Hermione, anyhow, which was all that really mattered because all she had at the moment to convince Bellatrix was herself, and that evidently wasn’t enough.
“You’re a distraction,” Bellatrix accused. “And I can’t serve my Lord with you around.”
“Well that means that locking me up isn’t an option,” Hermione said, helping Bellatrix to make her decision no matter what it meant for her. She was too sodding tired to keep fighting her. “So you have two choices left.”
Bellatrix rose her wand, her hand not quite steady. “I should kill you. Quickly and painlessly.”
Hermione watched, waiting. She didn’t say anything to change Bellatrix’s mind, what would be the point? This had to be a decision that she reached on her own. Either way, Hermione won. She would welcome death as opposed to this life that she was living, and if Bellatrix let her go then she would once more be able to focus on defeating Voldemort. Whatever happened, it was better than being kept here, alone with only her thoughts for company whenever Bellatrix wasn’t hurting her.
“You aren’t going to try to persuade me otherwise?” Bellatrix asked with a frown after she was only met with Hermione’s silence rather than protests.
Hermione shook her head softly. “Do what you want.”
Bellatrix laughed, though it was filled with desperation and utter despair. There was no insanity, no humour behind it, just anguish and misery. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t even know if I can do this.” She watched Hermione, her eyes fluttering shut. “Why does it have to be me who feels this way for you?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione said honestly. “But whatever you decide, I accept it. I don’t hate you, and I forgive you.” She gave Bellatrix a small smile.
Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, when she looked down at her arm. The Dark Mark on her left forearm was jet black. “I... I have to go,” she said. “Right now.”
“I’ll wait here for you until you decide,” Hermione said.
“No,” Bellatrix said, quieter now. “Just... take the chance whilst you can.” She murmured under her breath, and suddenly, Hermione’s wand came soaring from inside the drawer of the dressing table, into Bellatrix’s hand. Carefully, she placed the wand before her, not actively handing it to Hermione, but not preventing her from taking it either.
“What do you mean?” Hermione gasped, grabbing her wand immediately, though not attempting to use it. Using her free hand, she grasped Bellatrix’s hand, stopping her from leaving. Was Bellatrix implying that she should escape whilst she was gone? So that Bellatrix didn’t have to kill her, but she also didn’t have to let her go? Could it be?
“It means what you think it does,” Bellatrix hissed. “Do what you must, Hermione.”
It was the first time that Bellatrix had used her first name, and that above all else shocked Hermione enough to make her let go of Bellatrix. She watched her Disapparate, feeling a pang in her chest as she realised that it may be the last time that she ever saw her. And then, the moment the room was empty, she sprang into action. Rummaging in Bellatrix’s wardrobe, she found a fairly simple black dress to wear. Although it was too big she threw it on, and not bothering to find a pair of shoes or boots, knowing there wasn’t time, she ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, hoping that she didn’t come across any visitors, or even Lemmy who wouldn’t know what was getting on.
How was she going to leave? She couldn’t Apparate; she was worried about splinching herself in her weakened state, (not to mention the fact that she hadn’t done magic in a long time) and Portkeys and the Floo Network were out of the question. Was the Knight Bus still active? She had no idea. And then she spotted it, resting against the wall in the corner. A broom. She hated flying, but it was her only option at the moment, and so grasping it, she ran to the front door, surprised to find that it opened easily. Had Bellatrix unlocked it with a non-verbal spell before she left? Not hanging around to ponder this, Hermione wrenched it fully open, slamming it behind her as she ran down the steps and mounted the broom.
Kicking off, she sped through the sky, trying to see what she recognised and where she was. After five minutes or so she had an inkling that she was in Wiltshire; somewhere she had visited with her parents as a child, and so using the Four-Point Spell, Hermione used her wand as a compass. When Hermione was able to tell which way was north, she used her best sense of direction to fly towards Devon, where she knew The Burrow to be located. There was no guarantee that Ron and Harry would be there, but it was worth a try, wasn’t it? Then she could spend a few days recovering, join the search for the Horcruxes, and hopefully defeat Voldemort once and for all.
Winning the war had to be her primary focus now. Forgetting about Bellatrix would be hard, but it was more than likely that she would never see the raven haired woman again unless in battle. It was best to try and forget about whatever strange connection existed between them, and to ignore the ache that had started to form in the depths of her stomach. It seemed, however, that despite her rationalisation, the mere thought of Bellatrix was enough to distract her entirely, and the pain inside felt like an inconsolable kind, threatening to drown her. Knowing this wasn’t the time to become emotional, she tried to focus on the fact that her life had been saved. Bellatrix Lestrange, the proudest pure-blood that she had ever known had deigned to save the life of her; a Mudblood. When she explained what had happened to Harry and Ron (and she wasn’t sure exactly what to tell them yet) she was uncertain if they’d even believe her.
On and on she flew, sometimes losing herself, and unaware of how long she had been flying for. She still had no concept of time, but with the sun high in the sky it was likely to be no later than afternoon. Hopefully with a bit of luck she would arrive before nightfall, and would be safely tucked up in bed with little to worry about, if only for one night.
She was aware of the fact that she was close to The Burrow before she saw it, simply from recognising landmarks and roads below her. A surge in her chest gave her the courage to speed up, and leaning forward, she raced closer to her destination, praying that she would be able to break through the protection considering that she had already been there and posed no threat. There was a chance that tighter security had been provided since her abduction, but then they must have realised that she had wandered outside of the boundaries and that their home had not been infiltrated, as no one else had been taken or attacked. She hoped it would be possible for her to bypass the wards.
Moments later and that particular fear disappeared, for The Burrow was beneath her, and Hermione would therefore be able to enter. She was so grateful to see it purely because she had never imagined that she would have found it alone without the aid of others. Flying lower, she sped towards it, faster and faster, until she landed with a bump on the ground below, tumbling off Bellatrix’s broom and leaving it on the grass for the moment. Wincing at the hard contact with the floor, she quickly pulled herself up, running in pain towards the backdoor, banging on it.
“Ron! Ginny! Mrs Weasley!” She shrieked random names, hoping that someone would hear and permit her entry.
“Who’s there?” came a sharp voice. Mrs Weasley’s, maybe?
“It’s Hermione!” she called out.
“Hermione?” The voice said suspiciously. “What are...? Wait. What creature were you attacked by on Halloween during your first year of Hogwarts, and who were you rescued by?”
“It was a troll, and Harry and Ron rescued me,” Hermione answered immediately, understanding why Mrs Weasley wanted to check her identity. It had been a simple answer, for how could she ever forget the reason for her friendship with her two best friends? Evidently this was a momentous event within Ron’s life if he had seen fit to inform his mother of this. Feeling a pang of affection for him in her heart, Hermione smiled through the tears that had now started to fall from her face.
Straight away, the door opened, and Mrs Weasley pulled Hermione into her arms. “Oh my dear, we’ve been so worried! Where have you been? Are you ok? Oh Hermione!”
Suddenly, Hermione felt as though she could no longer stand. Slumping on her legs, she allowed Mrs Weasley to guide her into the lounge where she collapsed onto the sofa, all her energy focused on just remaining alert. “Are the boys here?” she asked weakly.
“Yes, yes, they’re upstairs at the moment. HARRY! RON!” she bellowed at the top of her voice, beckoning them down. She glanced back towards Hermione. “You’re so thin, dear, you look as though you haven’t eaten in weeks. And what on earth are you wearing? Let me go and...”
“I’ll eat soon,” Hermione interrupted. “Please, I need to talk to the others first. Please, Mrs Weasley...”
Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to argue with Hermione, but seconds later and Harry and Ron burst into the room, Ginny following them. All three had their wands drawn and were looking frantically around, concerned by Mrs Weasley’s outburst. “Mum? What’s going on?” Ron asked, before he set eyes on Hermione. With a cry he launched himself at her, Harry and Ginny following. For what seemed like forever they hugged her, clutching onto her so tightly that eventually she began to feel claustrophobic, and she batted them away, needing some space. I need to feel free again.
“I’m ok,” she said through the tears, partially reassuring herself. “I’m ok.”
“Where have you been?” Ron asked, aghast. “We thought... we thought...” he swallowed, seeming unable to continue.
“We thought you were dead,” Harry finished for him, and he too sounded choked with emotion. “We’ve been trying to find you... half the Order has been looking day and night but we couldn’t get a single lead other than that you had been taken by Death Eaters. What happened to you? And what on earth are you wearing?!”
Hermione took a deep breath, and gratefully received the Firewhiskey that Mrs Weasley handed her. Taking an enormous gulp, she felt as though she could now talk, and pushing her hair back from her face, she began. “Bellatrix Lestrange’s dress. But before you comment... I need you to let me finish the whole story, ok?” she said, hoping that Ron especially would take note of her request. “And if there’s anyone else here who is going to walk in halfway through, maybe they could come now? I don’t fancy telling this story all over again.”
“There’s no one else here,” Mrs Weasley said kindly, taking a seat next to Ginny on the other sofa. “Arthur is with some of the Order and Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Fred and George are all at Shell Cottage sorting out a few final touches. No one else from the Order is here, so you can tell us and we’ll relay whatever you want us to say to the others for you, dear.”
Hermione nodded. “Right, ok. Well... I suppose I might as well just come out and say it. I was taken by Bellatrix Lestrange. I was an idiot and ventured outside of The Burrow’s protection... and she found me.”
Everyone remained silent as Hermione had asked them to, but Ron sharply intake a deep breath. Ignoring this, Hermione continued. “It was only her, nobody else. She locked me in what was like a prison cell in the basement, and tortured me every now and then. I was fed once a day and given as much water as I liked, which she deemed to be fair treatment. Sometimes, she would come and talk to me. Most days actually.”
“What did she talk to you about?” Harry interjected, despite Hermione saying she didn’t want any interruptions.
Deciding to let it slide, Hermione answered him. “Lots. Most of it. She told me that Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts hasn’t resigned; she’s been murdered by You-Know-Who.”
This news was met with gasps of horror. Hermione couldn’t blame her audience for this, she most likely would have reacted the same way.
“As time went on, she started revealing more to me and... well she wasn’t really torturing me as much. It was almost like I was there to listen, to talk to her. Sometimes, I tried to persuade her that what she was doing was wrong, and that she could join the Order if she proved herself. She got angry whenever I did that, but I still tried, thinking that maybe the message would sink in.”
“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron said shocked. “You tried to convince the most faithful Death Eater there is that she should join us. Are you mad?!”
“No, Ronald, I’m not,” Hermione said curtly. “And if you let me finish then you might understand why.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, flushing red.
Continuing, Hermione said, “She told me that she wasn’t there when the Longbottom’s were tortured into insanity; she took the credit because she didn’t want to deny her Lord, and that she felt defeated. She said she’s never specifically come out and said that she did it.”
Now it was Harry’s turn to interrupt. “And you believe her?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes. And... Harry, there’s more. She says that she didn’t kill Sirius...well, not exactly...” she held up a hand to stop him interrupt. “Voldemort used her body to spy on you, he possessed her. So the entire time we were at the Ministry other than when Voldemort appeared, he was inside of her body.” She proceeded to explain thoroughly what Bellatrix had revealed to her, to the amazed faces around her.
There was a moment of silence whilst Harry took the news in, before he said, aghast, “Voldemort killed Sirius?”
“How do you know she isn’t lying, Hermione?” Ginny asked cautiously.
“Why would she lie?” Hermione replied. “She has no reason to.”
“Hermione has a point,” Mrs Weasley agreed. “I know Bellatrix Black... or rather Lestrange. She’s manipulative and cruel, but she wouldn’t lie unless she had anything to gain. Remember, she is proud of who she is.”
“I’m not sure that she is,” Hermione said tentatively. “There were moments when she was almost human. And...” she finished, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to without revealing that she and Bellatrix had shared a kiss. Especially not in front of Ron.
“And what?” Ron pressed.
“Her husband turned up at the house she was keeping me in yesterday. He tortured me pretty badly, worse than anything Bellatrix has ever done. He used Sectumsempra and... I nearly died,” she said, her voice hollow. “Bellatrix came back and went absolutely crazy at him. She attacked him, saved my life by performing the counter-curse and then today... today she let me escape.”
“She let you?” Harry asked, incredulous.
“She basically returned my wand to me, left me untied and free in the home and told me ‘Do what you must’,” Hermione revealed. “So I took her broom and flew here.”
There was silence for a brief moment, broken by Ginny’s mystified tone. “But... why would she allow you to leave?”
“I don’t know Ginny,” Hermione answered, a half-truth, half-lie. The whole situation was confusing to her, and she couldn’t say for sure what Bellatrix’s reason had been. The older woman had told her nothing before she had left in such a hurry, and so Hermione was left to simply guess. The most logical (but also sort of illogical at the same time) reason was that Bellatrix had feelings for Hermione that ran deeper than just lust. Had it been something so simple as sexual desire she would have probably just gotten rid of her somehow and the problem would be solved. It had to be more, but Hermione couldn’t say exactly how deeply Bellatrix felt for her.
Maybe one day soon I’ll know, she mused. Maybe Bellatrix will change her mind.
**
((CLICK HERE for part 12. ))
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :)
(1), (2) , (3a), (3b) , ( 4), ( 5) , (6), (7), (8), ( 9), (10),
**
Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow
And that your saints and sinners bleed
We weren't born to follow
You gotta stand up for what you believe
Bon Jovi, We Weren’t Born to Follow
**
11.
March 1969
Whenever Bellatrix thought of her impending marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, she felt like vomiting. The thought alone of allowing him to touch her was enough to make her want to scream until her throat was raw, or to jump into the shower and scald away all the horrific thoughts. Ordinarily she would have gone out, bought a bottle of Firewhiskey and downed it straight, late at night in the privacy of her own room, or used her enchanted razor for more than just shaving her legs. Neither were particularly healthy choices, but other than the very first night she had found out she was to be wed Rodolphus, Bellatrix had not allowed herself to cry. Crying was a sign of weakness, after all.
Now though, at the Engagement Party held at her parent’s home, her options for escape were severely limited. Tears, alcohol and razors were all big no-no’s, because the first would smudge her impeccable makeup, the second would render her incapable of intelligent speech, and the razor would mean risking blood on her dress. And so, claiming to need to use the bathroom, she had slipped away from the celebrations downstairs, and hidden herself in her own room for a few moments’ peace.
Apparently though that was going to be impossible, judging by the fact that her younger altogether different cousin, Sirius Black, had just taken it upon himself to barge into her room. He always had irritated her, though at times she did struggle to stop herself from laughing as he wound up her Aunt Walburga to the point where her eyes bulged out of her head and she turned a violent shade of purple. Nevertheless, there was no way Bellatrix could admit this in front of her parents or aunt and uncle, for they would most likely punish her, stating that she was old enough to know better.
“Why are you up here?” he asked inquisitively.
“None of your business,” Bellatrix snapped, not having to put on false pretences now that she was away from the watchful eye of her parents and the Lestranges. “Fuck off.”
Sirius made a face. “That’s not very nice.”
“Well you shouldn’t barge into other people’s bedrooms then,” Bellatrix retorted, knowing that she sounded petulant but unable to stop herself all the same. Maybe picking on her younger cousin would make her feel better, if only for a few minutes.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, though he didn’t sound apologetic at all.
Bellatrix stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to leave. She wanted this to be alone time, and he was seriously eating away into the few minutes she had left. Sirius however failed to get the message, and merely grinned at her, the dimples in his cheeks making him look younger than his ten years. His grey eyes sparked out at her, daring her to smile at him or to even to engage him in conversation. She didn’t need to be a Legilimens to realise he was bored out of his mind by the adults and was looking for some entertainment.
Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix huffed at him half-heartedly. “Can you leave now?”
“Nope!” Sirius said, and he bounced onto Bellatrix’s bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Who says there’s something wrong?” Bellatrix said defensively.
Sirius shrugged. “You seem cranky for someone who’s supposed to be excited about getting married.”
“It’s not exciting,” Bellatrix said, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop herself. By the time she had realised what she had confessed it was too late, and Sirius was frowning at her. She braced herself for the onslaught of abuse that was sure to come from a fellow Black, even at his young age. He would tell her that she was lucky to be getting married to such a respectable pure-blood, that she should be honoured. He would say that she was being selfish, difficult and...
“If you don’t love Rodolphus, then why are you marrying him?” Sirius interrupted her thoughts, frowning.
... or not.
So surprised was Bellatrix at the question, that she forgot to be rude when answering. “Because he is the right sort of pure-blooded man that my parents want me to marry, and I need to uphold the family name.”
Sirius frowned, confused. “But that’s stupid. Why can’t you just marry who you want?”
“Because I... we, are Blacks,” Bellatrix told him. “One day, this is going to happen to you too, you know.” Apparently, her aunt and uncle hadn’t yet deigned to tell Sirius of his future. Well, there was no point him having false hope for any longer; he needed to realise exactly what he would be facing in just several short years’ time.
“No it won’t,” Sirius denied, eyes flashing defiantly. “I’ll run away before it ever happens to me. If I get married it’s gonna be because I love someone, not because of their blood or whatever.”
Bellatrix gave a wry laugh. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy? Wake up, Sirius.”
“I already have. I know what it is to be a Black, and I don’t care. I like being different,” he said proudly. “When I go to Hogwarts next year I’m gonna be friends with who I want. Don’t even care if I’m not in Slytherin... so long as I’m not in Hufflepuff!”
Bellatrix shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. Well, on his head be it. “You’re making a huge mistake. We Blacks are pure, better than everyone else! You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”
“I do,” Sirius disagreed. “You’ll understand one day, Bella. Maybe not now, but when you’re thirty or something. When Rodolphus is older and fatter.” He grinned. “Haha. Gross!”
Despite the completely, one hundred percent not funny situation, despite her irritation with her younger cousin and her disapproval of his beliefs, Bellatrix found herself grinning back. She understood better than Sirius realised, but he had yet to learn that she had long ago forced herself to forget that understanding and simply do as she was told. Sirius might go against the family and live life the way he wanted to, and if he did, then that was his prerogative. He’d have Andromeda for support anyway, because the chance of her ever returning home was close to zero. Bellatrix, on the other hand, doubted that she would ever be that sort of person.
Never.
Never ever.
**
Upon waking the next morning, it took a few minutes for Hermione to gather her thoughts and remember where she was. Waking up in an unfamiliar location, no matter how comfortable was extremely disconcerting in itself, but to discover that she was lying in the arms of Bellatrix Lestrange was enough to make her freeze momentarily, even despite the innocent, relaxed expression on the older witch’s face. Once she had ran through the events of the previous evening in her head, she calmed slightly, understanding how she had come to be in such a position. Whilst she considered her thoughts, Bellatrix slept on, unaware for the moment that Hermione was now wide awake.
In all honesty, she was worried about how Bellatrix would react towards her in the cold light of day, as there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t curse Hermione the moment that she woke up. Searching around with her eyes, Hermione tried to locate Bellatrix’s wand, hoping that she could get hold of it to prevent such a thing happening. Spotting it behind Bellatrix’s back, she carefully untangled her arm from underneath Bellatrix’s, and grasped the wand in her hand. It was a miracle she even managed to do it without waking Bellatrix up, and slowly, she leant over, pushing the wand below her own pillow. She didn’t want Bellatrix to rouse from her sleep and become startled at her holding it, thinking that Hermione was going to attack.
It felt a little crazy to let go of the wand after not having one for so long, but after last night there was no way that Hermione was going to attempt to escape, even with possession of a wand. She was still going to try to bring Bellatrix around to her way of thinking with just a little more hard work. If Bellatrix could see that Hermione could take possession of her wand and then let it go again without trying to betray her, then she might give Hermione some leeway and not shut her up in the cell all day, which with a bit of luck would give her a chance to speak to Bellatrix further.
After watching Bellatrix peacefully sleep for a few more moments, Hermione made the decision to wake her. Gently, she traced a thumb over Bellatrix’s soft lips, and shook her arm ever so slightly with her other hand. “Bella,” she whispered, the nickname easily falling off her lips, though it felt a little strange. “Wake up.”
Bellatrix began to stir, and although Hermione continued to lie on her body, she moved away slightly so as to allow her room to manoeuvre once she had fully woken. Blinking heavily, Bellatrix rubbed her eyes, and the second that she saw Hermione she jumped back, now fully awake. Eyes darting around, Hermione knew that Bellatrix was searching for her wand with which to either threaten Hermione or defend herself if she was under the impression that Hermione was going to attack her.
“Wait,” Hermione begged, trying to calm Bellatrix down before things got out of hand. “Just stay calm, Bellatrix!”
An expression of fury on her face, Bellatrix raised her hand to hit Hermione. Dodging the blow, Hermione grasped Bellatrix’s arms in an attempt to stop her. Struggling, Bellatrix managed to flip herself on top of Hermione, for she was far stronger and no match for Hermione in her weakened state. “Where is my wand?” she hissed.
“I... I’ll tell you when you calm down,” Hermione gasped, struggling to breathe with Bellatrix digging a knee into her stomach. “Please, stop.” She prayed that Bellatrix didn’t try to summon her wand before she’d been able to make Bellatrix see that she wasn’t a threat. Please, don’t do this.
Bellatrix hit her. “You don’t tell me what to do! You have no right you pathetic little Mud...”
“Bellatrix!” Hermione interjected, before the older witch could finish her sentence, ignoring the throbbing pain in her cheek. “Just... just listen to me. I could have... have threatened you with your wand or tried to escape, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Please, just remember what happened last night and calm down.”
Breathing heavily, Bellatrix looked Hermione up and down, seeming to consider her words. Her expression changed from fury to confusion, and her eyes locked with Hermione’s. At once, Hermione knew it was because she remembered, and her belief was confirmed as Bellatrix sneered, “Do you honestly think that one moment of weakness on my part is going to change everything?”
“No,” Hermione stammered. “But something inexplicable happened last night, it wasn’t just a kiss. Think about it... have you ever experienced a feeling like that before?”
“No, because I’ve never kissed a Mudblood before,” Bellatrix spat cruelly.
Ignoring the stab of pain in her chest as Bellatrix’s words hit her full force, Hermione persevered. She hadn’t come this far just to give up at the first hurdle; she was determined to make Bellatrix understand that there was something real (albeit unidentified) between them. It was the craziest thing in the world, to think that she had feelings for a Death Eater, but for all she had learnt about Bellatrix, she suddenly didn’t seem as bad. The crimes which she had so badly hated her for hadn’t been committed by Bellatrix in the way she imagined, and regarding the countless other crimes which she no doubt did commit, Hermione chose to ignore for the moment, not thinking about the fact Bellatrix felt no remorse.
“Forget about blood,” Hermione told her, shifting upwards and firmly pushing Bellatrix’s knee away from her now that the older witch had calmed down. “You’re a pure-blood, I understand. But you don’t hate me; you said so yourself.”
Eyes widening, Bellatrix exclaimed in a frustrated voice, “That doesn’t make this acceptable!”
Hermione shook her head. “You don’t get it, Bella. The blood inside us is irrelevant; it is how we feel that matters. I might be crazy and insane for it, but I care about you. Doesn’t that mean something? How can you want to hurt me when I feel this way about you?”
“I have been taught to hurt people like you for as long as I can remember,” Bellatrix said, and Hermione noted that her voice was trembling. “It doesn’t matter how beautiful you are, or how lovely and special and kind, you aren’t a pure-blood, or even a half-blood. In my Lord’s eyes, you are scum.”
“But not yours,” Hermione whispered. “Not anymore, it’s written all over your face that you don’t feel that way.” Bellatrix no longer held the same amount of hatred in the swirls of colours, for now all Hermione could see was confusion, as though Bellatrix wasn’t quite aware of what was happening to her.
The raven haired witch let out a sigh of frustration. “I have to ignore the way I feel! Have to! Or do you want us both to die? Because that is what will happen when my Lord finds out!”
He doesn’t have to find out, Hermione thought silently. Bellatrix could keep this a secret; she was accomplished at Occlumency, more than likely to the extent of being able to prevent Voldemort from seeing what she didn’t wish him to see if he wasn’t looking. Which he wouldn’t be, because he trusted Bellatrix implicitly. If Bellatrix really wanted to, she could change sides or turn double agent for the Order. But that was the main issue here, Hermione reminded herself. She didn’t want to. Other than her mystifying feelings for Hermione, she was still the same Bellatrix. Above all else she loved her Lord, and Hermione couldn’t compete with that, no matter how hard she tried.
“Then you have to make a choice,” Hermione said, thinking aloud. “I know that you will never choose me over him so the way I see it, you have three options. You can keep me locked up, let me go, or kill me.” She pushed Bellatrix off her, reached under her pillow, and threw Bellatrix’s wand back to her. “Whatever you decide, I’m not going to fight you.”
Bellatrix stared, a look of utter desperation in her brown eyes as she internally battled with herself. Hermione didn’t know exactly what was going through her head, but she would bet that it was tearing her apart in the same way that her own thoughts were eating away at her. She knew now that Bellatrix would never willingly go with her to the Order; not like this. Until something happened to make her realise what she could have if she gave up her service to Voldemort, she would not change her ways. Not for Hermione, anyhow, which was all that really mattered because all she had at the moment to convince Bellatrix was herself, and that evidently wasn’t enough.
“You’re a distraction,” Bellatrix accused. “And I can’t serve my Lord with you around.”
“Well that means that locking me up isn’t an option,” Hermione said, helping Bellatrix to make her decision no matter what it meant for her. She was too sodding tired to keep fighting her. “So you have two choices left.”
Bellatrix rose her wand, her hand not quite steady. “I should kill you. Quickly and painlessly.”
Hermione watched, waiting. She didn’t say anything to change Bellatrix’s mind, what would be the point? This had to be a decision that she reached on her own. Either way, Hermione won. She would welcome death as opposed to this life that she was living, and if Bellatrix let her go then she would once more be able to focus on defeating Voldemort. Whatever happened, it was better than being kept here, alone with only her thoughts for company whenever Bellatrix wasn’t hurting her.
“You aren’t going to try to persuade me otherwise?” Bellatrix asked with a frown after she was only met with Hermione’s silence rather than protests.
Hermione shook her head softly. “Do what you want.”
Bellatrix laughed, though it was filled with desperation and utter despair. There was no insanity, no humour behind it, just anguish and misery. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t even know if I can do this.” She watched Hermione, her eyes fluttering shut. “Why does it have to be me who feels this way for you?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione said honestly. “But whatever you decide, I accept it. I don’t hate you, and I forgive you.” She gave Bellatrix a small smile.
Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, when she looked down at her arm. The Dark Mark on her left forearm was jet black. “I... I have to go,” she said. “Right now.”
“I’ll wait here for you until you decide,” Hermione said.
“No,” Bellatrix said, quieter now. “Just... take the chance whilst you can.” She murmured under her breath, and suddenly, Hermione’s wand came soaring from inside the drawer of the dressing table, into Bellatrix’s hand. Carefully, she placed the wand before her, not actively handing it to Hermione, but not preventing her from taking it either.
“What do you mean?” Hermione gasped, grabbing her wand immediately, though not attempting to use it. Using her free hand, she grasped Bellatrix’s hand, stopping her from leaving. Was Bellatrix implying that she should escape whilst she was gone? So that Bellatrix didn’t have to kill her, but she also didn’t have to let her go? Could it be?
“It means what you think it does,” Bellatrix hissed. “Do what you must, Hermione.”
It was the first time that Bellatrix had used her first name, and that above all else shocked Hermione enough to make her let go of Bellatrix. She watched her Disapparate, feeling a pang in her chest as she realised that it may be the last time that she ever saw her. And then, the moment the room was empty, she sprang into action. Rummaging in Bellatrix’s wardrobe, she found a fairly simple black dress to wear. Although it was too big she threw it on, and not bothering to find a pair of shoes or boots, knowing there wasn’t time, she ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, hoping that she didn’t come across any visitors, or even Lemmy who wouldn’t know what was getting on.
How was she going to leave? She couldn’t Apparate; she was worried about splinching herself in her weakened state, (not to mention the fact that she hadn’t done magic in a long time) and Portkeys and the Floo Network were out of the question. Was the Knight Bus still active? She had no idea. And then she spotted it, resting against the wall in the corner. A broom. She hated flying, but it was her only option at the moment, and so grasping it, she ran to the front door, surprised to find that it opened easily. Had Bellatrix unlocked it with a non-verbal spell before she left? Not hanging around to ponder this, Hermione wrenched it fully open, slamming it behind her as she ran down the steps and mounted the broom.
Kicking off, she sped through the sky, trying to see what she recognised and where she was. After five minutes or so she had an inkling that she was in Wiltshire; somewhere she had visited with her parents as a child, and so using the Four-Point Spell, Hermione used her wand as a compass. When Hermione was able to tell which way was north, she used her best sense of direction to fly towards Devon, where she knew The Burrow to be located. There was no guarantee that Ron and Harry would be there, but it was worth a try, wasn’t it? Then she could spend a few days recovering, join the search for the Horcruxes, and hopefully defeat Voldemort once and for all.
Winning the war had to be her primary focus now. Forgetting about Bellatrix would be hard, but it was more than likely that she would never see the raven haired woman again unless in battle. It was best to try and forget about whatever strange connection existed between them, and to ignore the ache that had started to form in the depths of her stomach. It seemed, however, that despite her rationalisation, the mere thought of Bellatrix was enough to distract her entirely, and the pain inside felt like an inconsolable kind, threatening to drown her. Knowing this wasn’t the time to become emotional, she tried to focus on the fact that her life had been saved. Bellatrix Lestrange, the proudest pure-blood that she had ever known had deigned to save the life of her; a Mudblood. When she explained what had happened to Harry and Ron (and she wasn’t sure exactly what to tell them yet) she was uncertain if they’d even believe her.
On and on she flew, sometimes losing herself, and unaware of how long she had been flying for. She still had no concept of time, but with the sun high in the sky it was likely to be no later than afternoon. Hopefully with a bit of luck she would arrive before nightfall, and would be safely tucked up in bed with little to worry about, if only for one night.
She was aware of the fact that she was close to The Burrow before she saw it, simply from recognising landmarks and roads below her. A surge in her chest gave her the courage to speed up, and leaning forward, she raced closer to her destination, praying that she would be able to break through the protection considering that she had already been there and posed no threat. There was a chance that tighter security had been provided since her abduction, but then they must have realised that she had wandered outside of the boundaries and that their home had not been infiltrated, as no one else had been taken or attacked. She hoped it would be possible for her to bypass the wards.
Moments later and that particular fear disappeared, for The Burrow was beneath her, and Hermione would therefore be able to enter. She was so grateful to see it purely because she had never imagined that she would have found it alone without the aid of others. Flying lower, she sped towards it, faster and faster, until she landed with a bump on the ground below, tumbling off Bellatrix’s broom and leaving it on the grass for the moment. Wincing at the hard contact with the floor, she quickly pulled herself up, running in pain towards the backdoor, banging on it.
“Ron! Ginny! Mrs Weasley!” She shrieked random names, hoping that someone would hear and permit her entry.
“Who’s there?” came a sharp voice. Mrs Weasley’s, maybe?
“It’s Hermione!” she called out.
“Hermione?” The voice said suspiciously. “What are...? Wait. What creature were you attacked by on Halloween during your first year of Hogwarts, and who were you rescued by?”
“It was a troll, and Harry and Ron rescued me,” Hermione answered immediately, understanding why Mrs Weasley wanted to check her identity. It had been a simple answer, for how could she ever forget the reason for her friendship with her two best friends? Evidently this was a momentous event within Ron’s life if he had seen fit to inform his mother of this. Feeling a pang of affection for him in her heart, Hermione smiled through the tears that had now started to fall from her face.
Straight away, the door opened, and Mrs Weasley pulled Hermione into her arms. “Oh my dear, we’ve been so worried! Where have you been? Are you ok? Oh Hermione!”
Suddenly, Hermione felt as though she could no longer stand. Slumping on her legs, she allowed Mrs Weasley to guide her into the lounge where she collapsed onto the sofa, all her energy focused on just remaining alert. “Are the boys here?” she asked weakly.
“Yes, yes, they’re upstairs at the moment. HARRY! RON!” she bellowed at the top of her voice, beckoning them down. She glanced back towards Hermione. “You’re so thin, dear, you look as though you haven’t eaten in weeks. And what on earth are you wearing? Let me go and...”
“I’ll eat soon,” Hermione interrupted. “Please, I need to talk to the others first. Please, Mrs Weasley...”
Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to argue with Hermione, but seconds later and Harry and Ron burst into the room, Ginny following them. All three had their wands drawn and were looking frantically around, concerned by Mrs Weasley’s outburst. “Mum? What’s going on?” Ron asked, before he set eyes on Hermione. With a cry he launched himself at her, Harry and Ginny following. For what seemed like forever they hugged her, clutching onto her so tightly that eventually she began to feel claustrophobic, and she batted them away, needing some space. I need to feel free again.
“I’m ok,” she said through the tears, partially reassuring herself. “I’m ok.”
“Where have you been?” Ron asked, aghast. “We thought... we thought...” he swallowed, seeming unable to continue.
“We thought you were dead,” Harry finished for him, and he too sounded choked with emotion. “We’ve been trying to find you... half the Order has been looking day and night but we couldn’t get a single lead other than that you had been taken by Death Eaters. What happened to you? And what on earth are you wearing?!”
Hermione took a deep breath, and gratefully received the Firewhiskey that Mrs Weasley handed her. Taking an enormous gulp, she felt as though she could now talk, and pushing her hair back from her face, she began. “Bellatrix Lestrange’s dress. But before you comment... I need you to let me finish the whole story, ok?” she said, hoping that Ron especially would take note of her request. “And if there’s anyone else here who is going to walk in halfway through, maybe they could come now? I don’t fancy telling this story all over again.”
“There’s no one else here,” Mrs Weasley said kindly, taking a seat next to Ginny on the other sofa. “Arthur is with some of the Order and Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Fred and George are all at Shell Cottage sorting out a few final touches. No one else from the Order is here, so you can tell us and we’ll relay whatever you want us to say to the others for you, dear.”
Hermione nodded. “Right, ok. Well... I suppose I might as well just come out and say it. I was taken by Bellatrix Lestrange. I was an idiot and ventured outside of The Burrow’s protection... and she found me.”
Everyone remained silent as Hermione had asked them to, but Ron sharply intake a deep breath. Ignoring this, Hermione continued. “It was only her, nobody else. She locked me in what was like a prison cell in the basement, and tortured me every now and then. I was fed once a day and given as much water as I liked, which she deemed to be fair treatment. Sometimes, she would come and talk to me. Most days actually.”
“What did she talk to you about?” Harry interjected, despite Hermione saying she didn’t want any interruptions.
Deciding to let it slide, Hermione answered him. “Lots. Most of it. She told me that Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts hasn’t resigned; she’s been murdered by You-Know-Who.”
This news was met with gasps of horror. Hermione couldn’t blame her audience for this, she most likely would have reacted the same way.
“As time went on, she started revealing more to me and... well she wasn’t really torturing me as much. It was almost like I was there to listen, to talk to her. Sometimes, I tried to persuade her that what she was doing was wrong, and that she could join the Order if she proved herself. She got angry whenever I did that, but I still tried, thinking that maybe the message would sink in.”
“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron said shocked. “You tried to convince the most faithful Death Eater there is that she should join us. Are you mad?!”
“No, Ronald, I’m not,” Hermione said curtly. “And if you let me finish then you might understand why.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, flushing red.
Continuing, Hermione said, “She told me that she wasn’t there when the Longbottom’s were tortured into insanity; she took the credit because she didn’t want to deny her Lord, and that she felt defeated. She said she’s never specifically come out and said that she did it.”
Now it was Harry’s turn to interrupt. “And you believe her?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes. And... Harry, there’s more. She says that she didn’t kill Sirius...well, not exactly...” she held up a hand to stop him interrupt. “Voldemort used her body to spy on you, he possessed her. So the entire time we were at the Ministry other than when Voldemort appeared, he was inside of her body.” She proceeded to explain thoroughly what Bellatrix had revealed to her, to the amazed faces around her.
There was a moment of silence whilst Harry took the news in, before he said, aghast, “Voldemort killed Sirius?”
“How do you know she isn’t lying, Hermione?” Ginny asked cautiously.
“Why would she lie?” Hermione replied. “She has no reason to.”
“Hermione has a point,” Mrs Weasley agreed. “I know Bellatrix Black... or rather Lestrange. She’s manipulative and cruel, but she wouldn’t lie unless she had anything to gain. Remember, she is proud of who she is.”
“I’m not sure that she is,” Hermione said tentatively. “There were moments when she was almost human. And...” she finished, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to without revealing that she and Bellatrix had shared a kiss. Especially not in front of Ron.
“And what?” Ron pressed.
“Her husband turned up at the house she was keeping me in yesterday. He tortured me pretty badly, worse than anything Bellatrix has ever done. He used Sectumsempra and... I nearly died,” she said, her voice hollow. “Bellatrix came back and went absolutely crazy at him. She attacked him, saved my life by performing the counter-curse and then today... today she let me escape.”
“She let you?” Harry asked, incredulous.
“She basically returned my wand to me, left me untied and free in the home and told me ‘Do what you must’,” Hermione revealed. “So I took her broom and flew here.”
There was silence for a brief moment, broken by Ginny’s mystified tone. “But... why would she allow you to leave?”
“I don’t know Ginny,” Hermione answered, a half-truth, half-lie. The whole situation was confusing to her, and she couldn’t say for sure what Bellatrix’s reason had been. The older woman had told her nothing before she had left in such a hurry, and so Hermione was left to simply guess. The most logical (but also sort of illogical at the same time) reason was that Bellatrix had feelings for Hermione that ran deeper than just lust. Had it been something so simple as sexual desire she would have probably just gotten rid of her somehow and the problem would be solved. It had to be more, but Hermione couldn’t say exactly how deeply Bellatrix felt for her.
Maybe one day soon I’ll know, she mused. Maybe Bellatrix will change her mind.
**
((CLICK HERE for part 12. ))