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Chapter Text

They were waiting. Snape had insisted that tonight would be the night, and they would have the chance to catch Potter - and along with him, nearly the whole Order.

So, they were waiting. The Dark Lord had given Bellatrix command of the mission, and she would not fail her Master. She was in the perfect space, ready and buzzing for the battle as she hovered high above the muggle house, above the clouds, and above Dumbledore’s wards.

It wouldn’t be long now, their scout had reported back to her, the Order had arrived, and now all they had to do was get the boy, and she could summon the Dark Lord, and she would be triumphant, raised up as His devoted right hand.

As lightning flashes around them, the Death Eaters are illuminated and she catches sight of her husband, staring at her, and in the moment of brightness, she bares her teeth in a grin. The lightning fades, and then Order is amongst them, and spells are whizzing around. Bellatrix’s first sight is of her bright-haired niece, accompanied by the Potter Boy, and she engages them, throwing silent curses with a feral smile as she and Rodolphus chase the Auror and the boy. It takes her but a moment to press her Mark, and her Lord will come.

As they speed past, there’s a lot of redheads battling in the air, but they are all side by side with a messy, black-haired boy. A quick amplifying charm, and she yells out, “Find the real boy! He is coming! Get the real one!” There is flurry of panic amongst her comrades, and the fear setting into her bones only makes her fight harder. He is coming, and there are seven possible Potters. They are spread too thin if they try and take down every one. SHe looks up at her Potter, and starts firing curses.

He rolls and dives - this could be the real one, he is quick on his broom. The auror draws her attention away from the boy, by cutting Rodolphus, and she lets her husband keep the boy busy as she attacks the pink-haired girl. Her niece is good, but like her mother, she holds back, she is kind with her spellcasting, and Bellatrix takes advantage of this, pressing and pressing, then Rodolphus joins in. They might take her down quicker together, but she snarls at him. He’s taken the pressure off the boy, and a moment later, he’ll regret it as he is stunned.

She watches as he falls from his broom and disappears beneath the clouds. She looks up and sees Tonks and the boy flying away, but she is frozen. She doesn’t follow, nor does she try to catch Rodolphus. She just watches. There is no urge to save her hated husband, but also no urge to fight anymore. The bloodlust has faded from her veins for the first time in what feels like forever.

The battle has gone, and Bellatrix descends in slow circles until she lands in a field full of flowers. She blinks slowly, her brain is fighting itself. She knows what her instructions are, she is to return to Malfoy Manor, where she will likely receive her punishment, but she doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t know what to do, until her Mark burns, searing pain on her forearm.

Almost automatically, without even thinking about it, she’s apparated away, and she’s at the gates of Malfoy Manor. She follows her summons to the dining room, and receives her punishment quietly. She’s detached, going through the motions as the Dark Lord rages at her, tortures her, then flings her aside.

 She allows Narcissa to bundle her up and guide her to her room, and once she is healed Narcissa slips away, leaving Bellatrix to the thoughts floating around her broken mind.

Rodolphus was dead. And the longer he was gone, the more the fog in her thoughts faded away. Bellatrix let her thoughts drift back to her past, and she could remember everything she had done, every house she’d burnt, and every person she’d terrified. But there was something missing. She was sitting in the centre of her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, and rocking, and in a flash she was up, pacing from window to door and back, boots clicking and skirts swishing.

She had no reason. She could remember everything she had done , even her years sitting in Azkaban, but there is no reason to any of it. There is no explanation for why she did what she did, she just followed orders .

By the time the sun is rising, Bellatrix has come to her horrifying conclusion. Someone had done something to her mind. Someone was controlling her with something far more complex and ancient that the Imperius Curse.

Chapter Text

Once the shock fades away, Bellatrix is filled with anger. Whoever has been messing around in her head is a dead man walking. She knows it must have been some sort of enchantment linked to Rodolphus, and of course he would be involved, and he probably just did what he was told, which means it was either the Dark Lord, her father, or her uncle who instructed him.

The door slams behind her, and she’s moving down the hallway before she quite realises what she’s doing, and then she’s at her sister’s door. She throws it open with a bang. “OUT!” She yells, and Lucius scrambles from his bed, reaching for his wand before he realises who is in his room.

“Merlin, Bella! Knock, why don’t you?” Lucius pick up his wand and strolls across the room, sliding on his silk dressing gown and his puffskein fur slippers. For all his finery, his hair is dry and lank, his eyes are surrounded by black circles, and he is bone-thin.

“GET OUT!” Bellatrix hollers, and waits as Lucius rolls his eyes and wanders into his sitting room, then she rushes over to the bed, where Narcissa is lounging, watching the interaction between her sister and her husband with an arched blonde eyebrow.

“I do wish you were nicer to Lucius.” Narcissa pats the spot next to her, and Bellatrix lies down, side by side with Narcissa. She can hear the unspoken words - he’s having a hard time, be kind, be his friend, stand up for him - but she ignores the subtext of Narcissa’s statement, filing it away for another time.

“Cissy, I couldn’t care less about your husband right now. Someone had me under a spell, someone was in my head. I need to know what they did to me.” Bellarix is staring up at the silver canopy above the bed, her dark eyes unblinking, but she feels Narcissa sitting up next to her, and then hears the concern in her tone.

“How do you -” She stops herself and takes a breath. “Right. Let’s start with what you know, and go from there. We’ll figure this out, Bella.” Narcissa squeezes Bellatrix’s hand, and Bellatrix lets her.

“The spell was somehow linked to my good for nothing husband, because the effects faded when he died last night. Oh, yes. Rod died last night. And he would never have enchanted me without encouragement from someone, he didn’t have the balls, so it was Father, Uncle Orion, or the Dark Lord.”

“Bella, don’t be so crass. I’m sorry about Rodolphus-”

“I’m not!”

“Bella!” Narcissa chastises. “So what exactly was done to you? What changed when he died?”

Bellatrix blinked up at the canopy, her eyes tracing the embroidery, the hand that wasn’t being clasped by Narcissa was fidgeting with the corner of the sheet. “I think… I think I lost my motivation, my desire. It felt like, all of a sudden, I was in a battle I had no stakes in, and I didn’t know what to do? My mind knew who I was fighting, and why, and what for, but my heart wasn’t in it.”

Narcissa gets up, and begins pacing, her nightgown swishing around her legs, her blonde hair streaming down her back. “The spell was linked to Rodolphus’s life force. It manipulated your desires, beliefs, and loyalties. Most likely, you were enchanted when you were young, before Hogwarts, and the link was transferred to Rodolphus when you were married. It seems like ancient magic, family magic, so it is more likely to be Father or Uncle Orion who encouraged Rodolphus. I don’t see why Uncle Orion would bother, when we were children, he had an heir and a spare, he didn’t need to get involved with us. So my money would be on Father.”

Bellatrix follows Narcissa as she goes through into the sitting room, and Lucius leaves with a sigh, brushing his wife’s hand as she passes. As soon as the door closes behind him, Bellatrix speaks. “What are you looking for? What spell was it?”

Narcissa picks up book after book, flipping through, then discarding them when they don’t field the information she is looking for. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I can’t figure it out, I never had access to the Black Grimoire, I don’t know!” She’s running her hands through her hair, and eventually she throws down her book and slumps into an armchair. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Bella.”

Bellatrix kneels next to her sister’s chair and takes her hands, flicking her dark hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Cissy. We’ll fi - fuck. Ow. I’ve got to go.” Bellatrix stands up and rushes to the door, but she stops when Narcissa calls out to her.

“Be careful, Bella.” Her warning is simple, and Bellatrix nods sharply, then hurries downstairs to answer the Dark Lord’s summons.

***

The Dark Lord is standing in the shadows by the fireplace when Bellatrix enters the dining room, and Avery is hovering nearby with his head bowed. Both move when she enters, Avery twitching, and the Dark Lord turning slowly.

“Dear Bella.” He drawls quietly, his voice whispering through the room. “I have heard stories about you.” He pauses, seemingly lost in thought.

“My Lord?” Bellatrix asks apprehensively, stepping forwards.

He waves his hand, and Nagini slithers out from a shadow, slitting eyes staring Bellatrix down. “We are so grieved by your loss, are we not, Avery?”

Avery blinks and stutters, “Yes, yes, my Lord.” Then he ducks his head again and steps back.

The Dark Lord slowly walks towards her, Nagini slithering around his feet, as he speaks. “But, of course, you did not love Rodolphus. He was a good soldier, and he was useful to you, but you never loved him.” He is standing close now, and Bellatrix has to tilt her head up to look at him.

He is waiting for her to say something, so she acknowledges him quietly. “My Lord.” She can’t figure out where he is going with this conversation, and she knows that usually she is in awe of him, and thrilled when he pays direct attention to her, but she can’t summon these feelings now.

“So I wonder, why you were so struck with grief for your husband that you abandoned the battle when he died, when you had command of my Death Eaters, given you do not even pretend to feel anything more than contempt for you husband. Explain this to me, Bellatrix.” His thin fingers, ash-white, trail along her jawbone, leaving a tickle on her chin.

Bellatrix blinks. She has to think quick, he is gazing down at her, red eyes bright, and she has no answer. “I… I can’t explain it, though I beg your… forgiveness, my Lord.” She bows her head, and does not meet his eyes, displaying the subservience he clearly wants, despite the fact that it makes her  stomach twist, bowing and scraping to this snake-man - who espouses purity, but taints his blood with snake-blood, and if the rumours are true, is a half-blood himself.

“Ah.” He steps back suddenly, his wand swiping a thin slash across her lower cheek, where his fingers had touched her moments beforehand. “I truly had hoped not to do this, you have always been so faithful to me.” Another flick of his wand, and she is on the floor. Pain wracked her body, but her muscles stayed loose, clearly she knew how to ride out the curse. Her head is pounding, throbbing with pain, and he doesn’t stop until a whine slips from her throat.

At the Dark Lord’s command, Avery hurries forward and drags her to her feet as a sort of hate floods through her body, burning away the remnants of the pain left behind by the curse. “I have a task for you. You have failed me, and you must prove yourself worthy to command my soldiers once again. Avery, take her.”

“My Lord.” Avery steps forward, bowing to the Dark Lord, then taking her by the elbow and pulling her out of the room and out the front door.

Bellatrix shakes his hand off her arm, but she keeps following him, her boots crunching on the gravel as they approach the gate. Before Avery can open the gate, Bellatrix flicks her hand, and the steel gates fade to smoke as they pass through.

Avery grabs her arm again, tight enough to bruise, and without warning, he apparates them both to a suburban muggle home. Before she can question him, he lets go and disapparates with a crack.

She knows what her task is. These muggles have displeased the Dark Lord, and she is to make an example of them. The thought sits heavy in her gut, despite knowing she has done this sort of thing many times before.

But she has no choice. If she doesn’t do this, she is as good as dead. With her gone, and Lucius a cowering fool, Narcissa would be in danger too. So she has no choice, Bellatrix concludes as she steps forward, the wind whipping her skirt around her legs.

A whispered bombardo blasts the door open, and she scans the house for magical traces. She walks in slowly, wand raised.

“ Homenum revelio ,” she whispers, and the ground floor is empty. The family is upstairs. She goes up the stairs slowly, boots tapping on the wooden steps as they creak. She hears shuffling and movement as she approaches, and she follows the sound to a bedroom with a closed door. Someone is breathing hard, and someone else is crying quietly. They knows she’s coming, they must’ve seen her out the window.

Bellatrix opens the door with one hand, wand held high in the other, and she reveals a teenager’s room, decorated with photographs, both wizarding and muggle, and a scarlet and gold duvet.

“ Gryffindors .” Bellatrix sighs under her breath as she lifts her gaze to the family huddled in the corner. “ Fuck .”

Chapter Text

Wild black hair obscured her sight as Hermione was pressed against the bed by the weight of a body on top of her. Hermione shook her head free of the other woman’s hair in time for the scene to morph, as dreams are wont to do.

Hermione felt a weightlessness as she floated in the clouds. The only thing tethering her was a ruby-red ribbon, tying her wrist to the black-haired woman’s, whose back was to Hermione, her arms stretched out like Christ the Redeemer, her toes pointed like a ballerina. Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her head back, and as she did, she felt herself land softly, damp grass beneath her elbows and knees as she hovered over the woman. She opened her eyes slowly, a heady, warm weight in her body, and as she blinked, she recognised the face below hers and a name was on the tip of her tongue, just slightly too far away for her to recall.

The woman arched her neck up towards Hermione, her full pink lips forming a little pout, but before they make contact, they are shocked by the sudden rain. Hermione looks around, and gone is the sunny green meadow, replaced by a dour, grey street lined with terraced houses and paved with old cobbles. The slate-coloured clouds are thundering down rain, and it soaks them both quickly, clothes and hair clinging to their bodies. Hermione tilts her head down towards the smaller woman who lifts a delicate, pale hand to Hermione’s face and her breath is warm as their lips meet in a blaze of warmth and feeling, burning off the cold of the rain and the fogginess of the dream.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s exuberant voice wrenches her from her dream, and she catches and stills herself as her hips give a searching roll upwards, her body longing for the touch of the dark-haired woman. “Mum says breakfast in five, or do you want her to save you some?”

There are few people in the Burrow who Mrs Weasley offers to save breakfast for - Mrs Weasley is like a second mother to Hermione, and it's the little motherly touches that make Hermione miss her own mother  that bit less. “I’ll be down in a minute, Gin. Thanks.” Hermione says, running her hands over her face and pushing her hair back.

The single bed squeaks as Hermione folds back the covers and stands up, moving around the room she shares with Ginny whenever she stays as she dresses and ties her hair back. As Hermione stares in the mirror, she pauses, her hands frozen as she pulls her ponytail through the hair tie. The face in her dream. She knows who it belongs to now. 

The first time Hermione had seen Bellatrix Lestrange, or Black as she was then, in her prime had been two summers prior, when she’d spent the break at 12 Grimmauld Place. Mrs Weasley had been relentless in her deep cleaning and Hermione had been drafted in as soon as she stepped through the door. She’d spent an afternoon with Andromeda Tonks in the attic, sorting through old keepsakes and photographs, and she’d found a picture of a wild-haired girl in a green gown, and her dark eyes stood out to Hermione, bright and kind and clever. “Is this you?” Hermione had asked, holding up the photograph, and Andromeda and looked up from the box she was kneeling over, lifting her glasses so she could see, then a shadow flitted across her face and she shook her head slowly.

“No. That’s my sister.” Andromeda sat back from the box, her hands falling together and twisting. “Bellatrix.”

“She doesn’t look like-” Hermione begins.

“Azkaban really did a number on her. We used to look like twins, when we were little she would take my place when I was got in trouble and Father would punish her instead of me. The hardest part for her was not talking back or she’d give the game away and then we’d both be in trouble.” Andromeda reminisced with a soft smile curving her lips. “That photo was taken on her seventeenth birthday. Our uncle Orion, Sirius’s father, threw her a ball, and we had the best night. Cissy spent the whole night dancing with Lucius, but Bella and I were joined at the hip that night. I was fifteen. I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear all this,” Andromeda had said with a sad laugh as she returned her attention to her box.

Hermione, 15 and eager to know everything she could about anything, had shook her head. “It’s okay, really, I’m interested.”

The quizzical look that Andromeda had given Hermione is something she can still visualise, and then the older woman had started talking - the stories behind each photograph and knick-knack, and they’d only stopped when Tonks came in to call them to dinner hours later. Ever since that afternoon in the attic, Hermione had been fascinated by Bellatrix Lestrange, and how she transformed from the spirited girl who would take the fall for her sisters to the monster she was now.

Hermione smoothed her hair one more time and went downstairs. Mrs Weasley was a controlled hurricane in the kitchen as knives chopped fruit around her, sausages and bacon flipped themselves in the pan, and toast jumped out of the toaster and into the toast rack. “Good morning Mrs Weasley. Would you like any help?” Hermione said, stepping aside as the plates flew by and clattered onto the table in a stack, the cutlery following close behind.

“Oh, good morning, Hermione dear, I’m just about done, sit yourself down. Ginny’s just gone to chivvy the boys along, so you’ll have the first pick for your breakfast!” Mrs Weasley pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead as she put the plate of sausages and bacon and a bowl of fruit on the table.

“Morning Mrs Weasley,” Harry mumbles as he slumps into a chair. “How’s George today?” He asks as he helps himself to the bacon.

The scrubbing brush falters in it’s washing of the frying pan as Mrs Weasley stops in the middle of the kitchen. She turns around after a moment with a plastered on smile. “He’s doing better… Thank you, Harry. Poppy’s ointment is working very well for him.”

The kitchen fills up quickly, both with red-haired men, and noise. Hermione is washing her plate as Bill serves himself thirds, and Ron finally comes down, still in his pyjamas when she feels a burning on her thigh. She dries her plate and her hands then slips her finger into her jeans pocket and feels the pulsing hot metal of her Dumbledore’s Army galleon. She kept it in these jeans, her favourite pair, as a source of comfort, a reminder of the wizarding world when she was in the muggle world, and of her own cleverness and magical prowess.

No one notices as Hermione slips out into the garden where Crookshanks was prowling around to the other side of the house. She follows him until she’s out of sight, and pulls the coin from her pocket, laying it flat on her palm as it cools with the contact of her skin. The sunlight glints off the gold of the coin and she tilts it so she can read the message.

BL @ hse. SOS. CC. Hermione mutters as she deciphers the code. Bellatrix Lestrange. At house. SOS. CC - the only person it could be is Colin Creevey. Hermione remembers him trailing Harry with his camera. He’s muggleborn and underage. He has a younger brother, Hermione remembers as she hurries towards down the driveway, towards the edge of the strengthened wards so she can apparate away.

She turns halfway, then she realises she has no idea where he lives. She can hear his voice in her head - a Devonshire accent, so she has a general idea of where to go.

Determination. Destination. Deliberation. Determination. Destination. Deliberation . Hermione whispers over and over. She is good at apparation, she knows, but she has no place to visualise, the only thing she knows is Devon, and Colin. She focuses on him as she spins tightly and disappears with a crack, Crookshanks watching her go with a flick of his tail.

***

A tingle dances through her - someone is close to her wards. She’d thrown them up quickly, the mundane muggle location and her inner turmoil making her careless. She’d forgotten briefly that she was a wanted woman, and now the reality hits her. She’s in danger. The wards collapse, a sharp, cold sensation rushing up her spin and chilling her head.

Panic floods through her limbs, muscle memory lifting her arm, wand in hand, a curse on her lips as her attention shifts from the magic inside her to the boy in front of her.

“No!” The older boy is holding his wand in both trembling hands as he moves in front of his brother. “Don’t you hurt my brother!”

“Colin, don’t,” The younger boy is sobbing as he pulls at his brother’s arms. Both parents are crying, the mother hiding her face in her husband’s shoulder, her hands reaching futilely for her children as she knows that she is not the one who can protect her family now. Bellatrix flinches as she hears movement downstairs. She knows she probably fucked right about now - old Bellatrix would’ve killed them all already and disappeared, but there is something keeping her here, in this muggle house in suburban Plymouth, as a witch or wizard moves about beneath her, closer and closer to catching her.

Chapter Text

Hermione tore down the simple wards with ease, and that concerned her - Bellatrix is a powerful witch, and no matter how good Hermione is, she’s a seventeen year old, not even finished Hogwarts. Bellatrix would know as soon as Hermione brought her wards down, the longer she waited, the more time Bellatrix had to prepare. The back door had been blasted open, and it swung on it’s remaining hinge as Hermione passed through and moved slowly through the house. She heard a boy’s quivering voice upstairs, and she followed the sound, laying her feet carefully and keeping close to the walls. The first room the finds is empty, so Hermione creeps along to the next one, her wand gripped tight in her white fist.

“Colin, don’t.”

Hermione follows the shaky voice to the next bedroom and as she peeks around the doorframe into the red and gold shrine to Godric Gryffindor, she sees a figure in black standing a few steps in from the doorway. Bellatrix Lestrange. Her body is corseted and gowned in rich black fabrics, but Hermione can see the emaciation in her body, the dullness in her hair, the sallow tone to her skin.

Mr and Mrs Creevey are huddled in against the bookcase, Dennis next to them, one hand reaching for his mother’s outstretched hand and the other tugging on Colin’s arm as the older boy blocks Bellatrix from his brother. Hermione wordlessly disarms Bellatrix just as the witch turns around, and her wand flies over her head and falls at Hermione’s feet - she makes no effort to catch it.

Bellatrix lunges forward - whether to physically attack Hermione or to reclaim her wand, Hermione doesn’t know.

“Stupefy!” Hermione shouts and Bellatrix falls on her face next to her wand by Hermione’s feet. Quickly, Hermione binds her wrists and ankles and picks up the wand, tucking it into her back pocket as she steps over Bellatrix. “Is anyone hurt?” Hermione asks and Mrs Creevey blubbers.

“Karen,” Mr Creevey hushes her and turns to Hermione, “No, she only just got here. Who is she?”

“Her name is Bellatrix Bla-Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s a Death Eater, one of  Voldemort’s servants. She escaped from the wizarding world’s max security prison a while ago.”

“You saved us!” Dennis Creevey pipes up, salty tear tracks drying on his face as his mother hugs him.

Hermione shakes her head. “Colin saved you,” she says, then she turns her attention to Colin. “The galleon was a very clever idea. You saved your family’s lives today.”

Colin blushes bright red. “Thanks.”

“Mr Creevey, is there a room I can take her to?” Hermione gestures towards the unconscious Bellatrix.

“Please, it’s Damian. You’re welcome to use the front room. Just please, be careful.” Damian gives her a grateful, if slightly shaky smile.

“Of course.” Hermione levitates Bellatrix ahead of her as she leaves the emotional family behind and goes downstairs. She finds the front room easily and binds Bellatrix to the armchair. She puts up a quick ward as she watches Bellatrix. Her scowl is erased from her face with unconsciousness, and she looks so much like Andromeda, though her bones look as if they’ve been chiseled from the marble of her skin, sharp and angular compared to Andromeda’s softer, plumper features. Her arms and legs are skinny, like chicken legs, and her collarbone is like a shelf, skin wrapping around it. She is skin and bones, low muscle and not an ounce of fat. She looks unhealthy, Hermione realises.

With a deep breath, Hermione revives Bellatrix. She wakes with a shudder, immediately straining against her bonds. For a second, her sunken eyes are wild, lost and terrified, then they fall on Hermione and they settle, dull and dark, taking in the room, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Hello. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“I know who you are!” Bellatrix sing-songs, and her voice is weak and it cracks, but Hermione can tell, once she could sing. “You are alone.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and Hermione knows she should’ve called the Order already, before she revived the dark witch, but for some reason, she didn’t. Maybe she wanted to talk to Bellatrix, maybe she wanted to gloat. She doesn’t know, but Bellatrix is already picking holes in her actions. “You’re Potter’s token mud- muggleborn. The chosen one, the poor one, and the clever one. Bellatrix Black, hi. I would offer my hand, but…” She pulls lightly at the ropes. Bellatrix’s speaking voice has a hint of richness, and it’s throaty, deep, and clipped, unlike Andromeda, whose voice has lost the sharpness of her upper class upbringing.

Hermione leaned against the mantel, keeping her wand drawn and visible so that Bellatris knows who is in control, who has the power. “Not Lestrange?” It’s a weird thing to question, but the words are out before Hermione can stop them.

Bellatrix tilts her head with a small smile. “Dead. In the battle.”

“Ron,” Hermione breathes.

“Ah, so your Weasel killed my dear husband. I have always been a Black, marrying that waste of space doesn’t change my blood.” Bellatrix’s voice fills with venom as she talks about her husband. “You have my wand?”

“Yes. I’m not giving it back to you,” Hermione answers shortly.

“I wasn’t asking you to,” Bellatrix fires back. “Don’t break it, it means everything to me,” she says with a fond warmth in her voice.

Curiosity whips through Hermione. “Why? Why is your wand more precious than anyone else’s?”

“I’m a Black,” she repeats. “On my eleventh birthday, Ollivander came to our house and fashioned my wand right in front of me, imbuing it with my magic. Narcissa kept it safe for me for fifteen years while I was in Azkaban.”

Hermione considers her, then sends a patronus message to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The few times she’d met him, his calmness had struck her. Of course, he was passionate and caring, but he exuded a calm aura that Hermione had immediately liked. When he was in a room, everyone was a little bit calmer, and he was automatically looked to for leadership.

They both watch as her otter swims away through the air, turning into a silver-white ball and vanishes. “I can help you.”

Hermione blinks. “What?”

“I have information. I want protection for myself, Narcissa and Draco. Get them out and I will tell you everything I know.” She is leaning forward, straining against her bonds, earnestness filling her sunken face.

“What?” Hermione repeated.

“You heard me.” Bellatrix snarked.

“Why?”

“My husband had me under an ancient familial spell - subtly controlling me. I need access to the Black Grimoire to figure out exactly what the spell was.” Bellatrix esplains, her voice lazy as if she is talking to a child. “I have done things. Horrible things. I know I’ve never been a kind person, but I was never cruel either. Not until I married Rodolphus. Cissy thinks the spell link was transferred from my father to Rodolphus when I was married as a part of the traditional marriage contracts.”

Hermione folds her arms across her chest. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’re not making all this up to infiltrate the Order? They break all spells when they process you for Azkaban.”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes viciously and rests her head on the back of the armchair, staring at the ceiling. “Why would I lie? Even a first-year would know that sending me as an undercover agent would be stupid! Familial magic can be undetectable to the standard curse-breaking spells. Sirius can tell you, he’s the head of the house, and a legilimens.”

They’re still waiting for Kingsley to arrive, and Hermione’s Ravenclaw tendencies are itching under her skin. Her gut is telling her that Bellatrix is telling the truth, but her brain is reminding her of her fascination with Bellatrix and how that may be clouding her judgement. “So what did the spell do?” She can hear the inquiry in her voice and it makes her cringe.

“Why should I tell you?” Bellatrix is still staring at the ceiling, slumped and stock-still on the armchair.

“Why not? You’ll need someone on your side when Kingsley gets here. You’ve broken a lot of laws.” Hermione answers tartly, and Bellatrix shrugs.

“I suspect that my father enchanted me when I was younger - I was a terribly disobedient child and he would’ve wanted to curb that-”

“I know.”

Bellatrix sits up, straining against the ropes. “How? How do you know that?”

Hermione blinks. “Mrs Tonks told me once.”

“Andromeda? You’ve met her?” Bellatrix’s whole body is filled with a wistfulness. Her eyes grow wide, and they fill with an emotion Hermione can’t place.

“Yes… she’s very nice. You look a lot like her. I think she misses you quite a lot, she speaks very fondly of parts of her childhood with you,” Hermione says cautiously, curious to see Bellatrix’s reaction. Bellatrix leans slowly back with a small nod, turning her face away from Hermione.

“Yes. Parts. I changed a lot when I was married, Rodolphus wanted me to be the Dark Lord’s muscle so he could rise in the ranks, he never had the stomach to do it himself. The spell gave him control over my impulses and desires, and he knew that I am ruled by my temper. If he placed a desire in my mind, I would fulfill it.” Bellatrix changes the subject masterfully - using Hermione’s desire for knowledge to pull her away from the conversation about her sisters.

Hermione lets her do it, too shocked by what she reveals. “That’s abuse. You could take him to court-”

“Except he’s dead.” Bellatrix is clearly resigned to the knowledge that what’s done is done, and it makes Hermione bristle at the injustice.

“Who’s dead?” Kingsley’s deep voice fills the muggle sitting room as he comes in, broad shoulders blocking the doorway for a moment before he steps aside and reveals Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. The latter nods to Hermione then goes upstairs, presumably to comfort and explain the situation to the Creevey’s.

“Who’ve you killed now Bella?” Sirius mocks with a grin, lounging against the doorframe. Bellatrix hisses and lunges for him, but the ropes tying her to the chair stop her.

“Sirius, don’t provoke her please,” Kingsley chastises, and Sirius subsides, “and the same goes for you, Lestrange. No  antagonising.”

Bellatrix just stares for a long moment. “Black.”

“What?” Sirius is sulking at being told off, and it shows in his voice.

“Not you, you idiot. My name is Black, not Lestrange.”

“As you wish,” Kingsley concedes with a slight bow of his head, but Sirius disagrees loudly.

“You’ve lost the right to that name! You lost it when you tortured my friends into insanity! You lost it when you murdered innocent people!” He shouts, his hands waving in the air and he steps closer to Bellatrix, but Kingsley stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

Bellatrix growls and tries to lunge at him again, much more intent behind her movement this time and the armchair rocks as she gives in to her restraints and sits back. “That wasn’t me!”

“We all saw you do it, Bellatrix! A court sentenced you to life in Azkaban!”

“They gave you the same sentence, but you’re innocent? I was under a spell! Go through my mind, you’ll find it! You’re the only one who can, the head of the family!” Bellatrix screeches back at him, and Sirius freezes. He knows, as does everyone, that what she offers - unfettered access to her mind - is not offered lightly.

“I heard yelling.” Remus comes in quietly, his hand going to Sirius’s back, and the dark haired man visibly relaxes at his partner’s touch.

“Black claims to have been under a spell while she served You Know Who. She says Sirius, as family head, can use legilimency to confirm her story.” Kingsley summarises, and Remus’s calm face barely reacts.

“I want my sister out safe. Narcissa and Draco. Bring them safely to me and I will tell you everything I know in return for protection.” Bellatrix makes her demands and Sirius scoffs, but Remus and Kingsley are assessing her carefully.

Kingsley leaves Remus and Sirius alone with Bellatrix, guiding Hermione out into the hallway. “You’ve been talking to her the longest, you caught her. What’s your take?”

“It was like she wanted me to catch her. We must have known when I got here but she didn’t fight back.”

“How did you know she was here?”

“I got a message from Colin. He’s a year beneath me at school.”

Kingsley surveys her carefully, the silence dragging on. “And you believe her?”

“I do, yeah.” Hermione answers without hesitation. Kingsley nods and Hermione follows him back into the sitting room, where Remus is whispering to Sirius, and Bellatrix is watching them talk.

“Remus, Sirius. We’ll take her with us, and you can do what you need to do to verify her story in a more secure location.”

“You can’t do it now?” Hermione asks before she can stop herself.

Ever the teacher, Remus answers her. “It’s an incredibly taxing and vulnerable thing for both Sirius and Bellatrix. Not something to do in a muggle front room.”

“And my ickle cousin doesn’t trust me. Isn't that right, Sirius?” Bellatix crows, and before Sirius can answer, Kinglsey takes Bellatrix’s arm and apparates her away. Sirius follows with a crack, leaving Remus and Hermione behind.

“He idolised Bellatrix when he was young, and he’s trained himself to hate her. This hurts for him.” Remus explains gently, then he offers his arm to Hermione, who takes it, and is thrown immediately into the nauseating feeling of side-along apparation.

They end up on Grimmauld Place, outside number 11, and they watch as number 12 slowly appears and they hurry into the house, as quiet as possible through the hallway not to wake old Mrs Black, and down to the kitchen. Kreacher is leaving the room as they enter, muttering about unfairness and his rightful mistress returning. Bellatrix is already tied to a kitchen chair, Sirius sitting across the long table from her, Kingsley to his left. Remus takes the chair to his right, and Hermione rounds the table and sits on Bellatrix’s left, opposite Remus.

“You have my wand?” Bellatrix asks, eying Hermione who nods. Kingsley holds his hand out for it, but Bellatis shouts before Hermione can and it over. “I only cooperate if the girl has my wand. I trust only her to keep it safe.”

“Fine.” Kingsley withdraws his hand, giving Hermione an odd look as he does.

“Beware, cousin. It’s not a pretty place to go.” Bellatrix’s eyes narrow and she rattles her arms against the ladderback chair she’s tied to. “You are opening a two way path.”

“l have no qualms letting you into my mind. Azkaban ravaged it just as it did yours. Our minds are familiar beasts.” Sirius grinned predatorily, his teeth almost bared, his eyes glittering. “ Legilimens .” He had drawn his wand fast, and his eyes faded as he sifted through Bellatrix’s fractured mind.

Hermione watched as they both twitched and whimpered. Eventually, the connection broke. Bellatrix rocketed back in her chair, and Hermione caught her just before she hit the floor, lifting her back to a normal position as she came around. Sirius fell off his chair with a clatter, transforming into his animagus form as he fell. Remus knelt next to the mig dog, stroking him and whispering gently until he transformed back into his human form, reaching for the werewolf for a moment in panic until he became aware of his surroundings again and stood up slowly.

“Animagus, Sirius? Really?” Bellatrix was breathless.

“After you, as always, Bella.” Sirius’s banter has a warm undertone now, teasing but no longer as sharp.

“You’re an animagus?” Hermione gasped. There were so many unregistered animagi it made her question the point of an animagus register at all.

“Hm.” Bellatrix huffed. “I am. Blacks have a proclivity for it. Jackdaw.”

Hermione turns towards her eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to learn!”

“Not my problem,” Bellatrix replies flippantly, and Hermione feels a heat fill her cheeks.

“Bella!” Sirius chastised. “I’ll teach you, Hermione. It would be my pleasure.” Hermione smiled gratefully at Sirius, who turned his attention back to his cousin. “Be nice. I know it’s hard for you, but try .”

“Oh, that’s no fun.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “Can you untie me now? I promise I won’t run. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Sirius draws his wand and vanishes the ropes and Bellatrix flies to her feet at a surprising pace, swirling around and around the kitchen. Hermione squeaked in surprise as the jubilant older witch pulled her off her chair and into a spin.

Kingsley speaks quietly with Sirius as Bellatrix dances. “You can have your wand, but you are restricted to this property, both for your safety and others.”

Before Hermione can hand Bellatrix her wand, the witch has swiped it from her back pocket, and was holding it reverently in her hands, running her fingers lightly up and down it’s length.

“We’ll discuss your terms tomorrow morning.” Kingsley says as a parting statement, then he leaves as Bellatrix starts digging through the kitchen for food.

Chapter Text

It was another two days until Narcissa and Draco arrived in the middle of the night, both covered in dark cloaks and ghostly white with fright. Hermione had collected her things from the Burrow and moved into Grimmauld Place, and over the days she was followed by most of the Weasleys - drawn by the safety and an inherent need to be at the epicentre of the action, and that was clearly shaping up to the invisible house in Islington. Bellatrix spent the whole two days pacing around Grimmauld Place and snapping at anyone who talked to her. Order members came and went, and whenever the front door opened, Bellatrix slipped away to her bedroom or the library. 

A week after Bellatrix’s arrival finds Hermione reading in the library - her favourite place in the house, full of old and obscure texts.

“The animagus books are over here.” Bellatrix’s husky voice startles Hermione enough that she drops her book, and scrabbles to pick it up and check it for damage, her hands shaking a little.

“Christ. How long have you been there?” Hermione stands up, hands running over the book as she turns to Bellatrix where she is standing in the shadows of the corner furthest from the door.

Bellatrix flashes a feral grin and steps out of the shadow. “Long enough to kill you if I’d wanted to.”

Hermione steps back. “Sirius is checking your spells every night.” She says and Bellatrix giggles.

“I can be much more inventive than the killing curse, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl!” She sounds just like one as she says it, hugging her book against her chest.

Bellatrix rakes her eyes up Hermione’s body. “No…. You’re not.” She steps closer again, and this time Hermione doesn’t back away, simply watching as Bellatrix closes the distance until they can feel each other’s breath on their faces. “You…. helped me. So I owe you. I will teach you.”

The heavy oak door opens with a creak, and Draco steps through. Hermione gives him a smile that’s not quite convincing. Since his arrival, while Narcissa redecorated every room, Hermione and Draco had struck up a tentative friendship after he found her in the library and apologised. He was nearly as reclusive as Bellatrix, keeping to his room and the library while his mother put up a charm offensive. Draco’s silver eyes flick over Bellatrix and Hermione, then he retreats without a word, closing the door behind himself with a loud thud.

“Teach me? To be an animagus?” Hermione can’t hide the eagerness in her voice, her finger worrying the edge of the book.

A scowl takes over Bellatrix’s face, but Hermione thinks she doesn’t quite mean it. “Obviously. If you don’t interrupt, and you do as I say .” Bellatrix’s tone brooks no argument, and Hermione nods quickly.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. It’s not easy.” Bellatrix breaks the physical tension by flopping onto the couch, lifting her legs onto the armrest, skirt sweeping over the side of the couch and brushing the floor. “Sit down. Eyes closed. Breathe.” Bellatrix points to the rug on the floor by the fire, and slowly, Hermione sits down cross-legged.

“You mean meditate?”

“What?” Bellatrix snaps. “I don’t know, call it what you like.  Centre yourself. Turn inwards and let your surroundings vanish. The animagus transformation is about your inner animal, the representation of your essence in animal form.”

Hermione rolls her shoulders back and straightens her spine, hands resting on her knees. “I read that there are potions to help with the transformation?”

A derisive snort comes from Bellatrix. “Ha. Potions. To force the transformation on your body. You would be forced into the animal that you are most like at that very moment and it would never change. You would be stuck with a shitty form. You wouldn’t know how to transform properly. That’s how wimps and idiots do it. Are you a wimp? Or an idiot?”

Hermione shakes her head and closes her eyes. “No. I’m not.” She breathes deep and slowly. It’s a struggle to imagine Bellatrix sitting still and quiet for long enough to learn, but she must have. Especially given her apparent disgust at the animagus potion. At first, Hermione’s brain is supplying questions, and thoughts, and every creak and whine from the house has her on edge, then time seems to stop, and the only thing Hermione can hear is the regular whooshing of Bellatrix turning the pages of her book.

“Good.” Bellatrix’s voice breaks Hermione out of her almost trance-like state. “That was good.” Bellatrix’s voice is soft, watching as Hermione blinks blearily.

Standing up, Hermione stretches and glances out the window. “Was that right? Was something supposed to happen? What time is it?”

Bellatrix is still lounging on the couch, she closes her book with a snap and sets it down. “That’s a lot of questions. Answer them yourself.” Bellatrix isn’t even looking at Hermione, and the brunette feels small and silly.

“Er. You said good, so it must've been right. I don’t know enough about the process to know if it was right so I should do some research,” Bellatrix huffs at that, “And it’s getting dark, so I’d say nearly dinner time.”

“Ding ding ding, 2 points to Granger. Don’t do research. That’s a bad idea. It’s an individual process, and books will only tell you anecdotal evidence. You will be expecting something, and you will make it happen. Conflicting practices will just mess you up. Go down to dinner. Same time tomorrow.” Walking away, Bellatrix shakes out her long hair, and trails her hand along the back on the couch.

“You’re not coming to dinner?” Hermione asks.

“No. I’m not,” Bellatrix answers shortly, not turning around, and she leaves, the door open behind her. Hermione hears her as she walks down the hall to her bedroom and closes the door behind herself.

The next few days go the same way, and on the fifth day, Hermione feels like something is happening. It’s almost like a dream, like she’s in two places at once, both in the library, hardwood floor beneath her, and also in this new, soft place that she can’t yet see, but it smells like a place she used to visit with her parents, the Forest of Dean. before the place becomes clear, a shriek pierces the house. As Hermione comes back to herself, Bellatrix grabs her arm and wrenches her to her feet, dragging the stumbling younger woman behind her as she rushes down the stairs. They trip into the kitchen, and Hermione bumps into Bellatrix as she stops suddenly. “Cissy? What’s happened?”

Hermione looks around the kitchen. It’s dinner time, and the table is full. Ron is muttering to Percy, Molly is frozen serving food. Arthur and Harry have halted their conversation about the internet, while Fred and George whisper to each other. Bill and Fleur, discussing their postponed wedding, Charlie and Ginny are eating their dinner, watching the situation unfold. Sirius, Remus, Kinsgley, and Tonks are standing, and beside them Narcissa is clinging to her husband, tears streaming down her face. Draco is standing up from his seat at the table, his fork held limply in one hand.

Sirius grins and winks at Bellatrix, who flashes him a grateful smile. It was obvious even to the most unobservant people in the house that Narcissa had been sad since she arrived, and Sirius had taken it into his own hands to cheer his cousin up by bringing her husband to her.

“Lucius, darling, my love. I’ve missed you, so much, my darling.” Narcissa was murmuring through her tears as she kissed him. Lucius lifted her gently from the ground, hugging her close to his weary body.

“I missed you too, Cissa.” When he put her down, she flew to Sirius’s side, throwing herself at him.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll never forget this, thank you!” She pulls away from Sirius and hugs Kingsley and Remus too, then she pulls Draco over to his father, who wraps Draco in a tight embrace.

“Mr Malfoy, you are expected to submit to the same restrictions as Mrs Malfoy and Ms Black. You mustn't leave the property, and we will be checking the spells you perform. Absolutely no contact with You-Know-Who or any of his followers” Kinsgley interrupts the family reunion with his deep baritone.

Lucius nods. “Of course.”

“I’ll show you to your room,” Remus says, and Bellatrix pulls Hermione out of the doorway, letting Remus quietly pass, followed by Lucius and Narcissa. Molly hands Draco a plate of food, and he grabs cutlery and a bread roll and follows his parents upstairs, flashing a small smile at Hermione and Bellatrix. Hermione squeezes his hand, and Bellatrix ruffles his hair.

Alone in the hallway, Hermione speaks, “I think I was almost there, today. I felt like, like I was getting close to something big.”

“Good.” Bellatrix says quietly. “We will meet again tomorrow, you will need to be strong. Eat plenty of food, and sleep. The first transformation is always incredibly taxing.” Hermione nods and goes into the kitchen to get dinner, taking a seat next to Tonks. Bellatrix decides to eat in her room, summoning Kreacher and telling him to bring her a plate of food and some elf-made wine.

Bellatrix is sprawled on her bed, on her stomach, her feet resting on her pillows, her upper body propped up by her elbows and she ate her grapes and read her book. A knock raps on the door, and Bellatrix calls out, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Bellatrix recognises the voice of her cousin and waves her hand, the door swinging open. Sirius comes in and lays on the bed, on his back, pushing Bellatrix over onto her back so he could lie next to her.

“What?” Bellatrix asked, not unkindly, just bluntly.

“I want to talk to you about how you’ve been.” Sirius stares up at the navy canopy of her bed, his eyes finding the star he was named after. “You’ve only really been hanging out with Hermione, Cissy, and Draco.”

“First, I don’t hang out , second, I am teaching Granger, and third, I doubt the Weasleys or your precious Order want to be eating their meal at the same table as me.” Bellatrix scowls, fingers picking at a thread on her duvet.

“Trixie,” Her scowl deepens at the old nickname, “Hermione doesn’t mind you, and she’s a muggleborn. Everyone else can get over themselves. This is my house, and my rules. I know Harry would like to meet you properly, he’s very forgiving and has a tendency to be kinder to those who have suffered in their childhoods. Tonks would love to get to know her aunt.” This is almost the most sincere Bellatrix has ever heard Sirius.

“Maybe I’ll come down tomorrow.” Bellatrix gave in to her younger cousin, like she always had when they were children. They had been as thick as thieves, and Bellatrix could remember more than one incident where she had taken the blame and the punishment for something that Sirius had broken, or a prank he had pulled. “Siri, I’m really sorry.” She used his pet name as she gazed up at the canopy, refusing to make eye contact. “I tried to kill you at the Department of Mysteries.”

Sirius knew that she was apologising for everything that had happened, not just for staying away from most of the people in the house, or trying to kill him once. Sirius could pinpoint when their relationship broke down to when he had been sorted into Gryffindor. “Bells, you weren’t yourself. I don’t blame you at all. I blame You-Know-Who, and your bastard husband, and our parents.”

Bellatrix turns her head, and evaluates her little cousin. He was still looking at the enchanted canopy, and he seemed honest. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“And by the way, the Order wants you in the meeting tomorrow morning. There are some questions about how You-Know-Who stayed alive. Dumbledore had a theory.”

“Horcruxes,” Bellatrix interrupts, and Sirius sits up.

“Yeah. How did you know?” Sirius asks.

Bellatrix sighs. “I have one in my vault. As soon as the Dark Lord knows we’re after them, he’ll try and get it back.”

“Them? There’s more than one?”

“Oh yes,” Bellatrix responds darkly. “There’s a few. Hufflepuff’s cup is in my vault-” Sirius’s eyebrows rise even further, disbelief on his face, “the diary that opened the Chamber of Secrets before you escaped, but that was destroyed. He was furious with Lucius for that, crucio’d him for hours, and Dumbledore destroyed a ring horcrux before he died. I have a suspicion that his snake is one too.”

“Ew. I’ll talk to Kingsley tomorrow. We’ll need a team to work on this. Mad-Eye and Tonks, Bill, you, me.” Sirius thinks out loud, his eyes shifting off to the distance as he strategizes.

Bellatrix rolls her eyes. “He’s very obsessed with your godson too. Something strange and arcane happened in Godric’s Hollow that night, and I know He was planning on creating a horcrux with the boy’s death, he was prepared.”

“Harry’s a horcrux?” Sirius squeaks, flinching at the thought.

“Possibly. He was able to place a false vision of you in the boy’s mind before the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. How do you suppose he did that?”

“Shit.” Sirius flops back onto the bed. “ Shit ."

***

Hermione is waiting in the library with Draco for Bellatrix to finish her meeting. Harry was pulled in by Sirius an hour ago, and she knows the curiosity is killing both her and Draco. The blond already seems lighter, quicker to smile, now that his father is back with his family. He turns out to be a quiet person, his personality at Hogwarts a complete persona.

Scowling as usual, Bellatrix comes in, and Draco leaves silently, flashing a tight smile at Hermione. Looking at Bellatrix, she can read the tension held in her forehead, her shoulders, and visible in her dark eyes. Hermione can count the number of times she has seen Bellatrix smile on one hand, and today doesn’t seem like the day to add another instance to that list. Before Bellatrix says anything, Hermione drops to the floor, crosses her legs, and closes her eyes. She hears Bellatrix settle stiffly onto the couch, but unlike every other day, Bellatrix doesn’t pick up a book, and Hermione can feel her eyes burning a hole into her.

Hermione allows herself to drift into the secret place in her mind. She’s explored it more and more each time she sits down and meditates with Bellatrix, and now she knows it well. It’s like an outer body experience, except she’s in her mind. She has no physical limitations, and she allows herself to drift through the forest, following the pull. Eventually, she comes into a sunlit clearing. It’s idyllic, and as she takes in the clearing, animals start walking out from the trees, floating on the edge of the creek, hanging from the branches, and landing on the rocks.

Slowly, Hermione moves through the clearing, her hands drifting over each animal. When she touches some, sparks trickle from her fingers, but nothing else happens. Others make her heart jump. Finally she reaches the last animal, and stops in front of it. Her hand hovers above it’s head and a silver string forms a bond between them, pulling her hand closer until she lands on her head, and an explosion rips through her body. Hermione is screaming as her body forces itself into a form it is not supposed to be. Bellatrix never said it would hurt .

Hermione blinks open her eyes, and she sees Bellatrix staring at her with wide eyes. “Don’t move. Wait here.” Bellatrix rushes out of the room, and a few minutes later she comes back with Hedwig and a mirror. She props the mirror up against the armchair, and Hermione looks into it. Staring back at her is an owl. A snowy owl covered in darker flecks of plumage except for the perfectly white circles around her wide browny-yellow eyes. She has a sharp beak, and she slowly stretches out, and her wings are huge. She can feel the power in her body. Hedwig lands softly next to her and starts teaching her.

Not long after, Bellatrix interrupts. “You need to transform back now. Take a moment to remember this form, so you can transform again, then focus on how your human body feels, what it does, how it moves. Allow yourself to shift back, let go of the owl.”

Hermione does as she says, and she screws her eyes closed as her human body returns. When she opens her eyes and tries to move, her muscles twitch but for a minute they don’t respond. A deep breath, then she slowly sits up, and it’s at this point she realises she’s completely naked. Bellatrix grins at her, then slowly tosses a blanket at her, and Hermione scrambles for it, wrapping it tight around her shoulders. She stands up slowly, and Bellatrix is laughing at the care with which she makes sure the blanket is covering her.

Embarrassment flushes through Hermione’s body, her cheeks bright red, as she stares at the ground. Bellatrix stops laughing and steps closer to her, her hand sliding beneath Hermione’s chin, lifting it until their eyes meet. “I’ve never been naked in front of someone before.” Hermione mumbles. “I know, I’m nearly eighteen, and everyone else has done it, but I haven’t. I kissed Viktor, and I just didn’t… feel all that much, and I figured it didn’t matter.” Hermione rambles, revealing much more to Bellatrix than she had meant to.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re beautiful. And if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Ever.” Bellatrix’s voice is uncharacteristically soft and kind, and the fire shadows flickering across her face are entancing.

“I… I know. Thanks.” It’s like she’s in a bubble, just her and Bellatrix, and she feels a similar pull to the one she felt with her animagus form earlier. Hermione shifts forwards incrementally, and Bellatrix’s hand slides from her chin to her cheek. Hermione keeps her arms wrapped tightly around her body, holding the blanket close, as she gently kisses Bellatrix’s full lips. The black-haired witch responds immediately, her other hand falling to Hermione’s hip as they both arch into each other, mouths opening to each other until Bellatrix wrenches herself away. She steps back, hands in the air almost like a surrender. Anguish spills over her face, and after a moment, she turns and rushes out, heels clicking quickly on the floor.

Hermione watches her go, staring at the door until she is long gone. Looking around, she sees her clothes in a pile and she hurriedly pulls them on then rushes down the hall to Bellatrix’s room. She needs to apologise, clearly Bellatrix immediately regretted kissing her. She knocks on the door to Bellatrix’s room, but there is no answer. She knocks again then opens the door. Bellatrix’s room is more accurately described as a suite. Hermione hasn't been in here before. All the rooms on the top level have a small living room, a bedroom, and an ensuite. One is Bellatrix’s, one is Sirius and Remus’s, and one for the Malfoys, and one for the Weasleys.

Bellatrix’s living room is empty, so Hermione walks slowly into the bedroom, but Bellatrix isn’t there either. Hermione falters. Where else would Bellatrix go? She spends almost all her time in either her room or the library.

Hermione checks every room as she goes downstairs - her and Ginny's room, Harry and Ron's room, Draco's room, all on the third floor, and the three empty rooms on the second floor, and finally the kitchen, drawing rooms, and dining room on the ground floor, but Bellatrix isn’t anywhere to be found. Hermione knows that she has no chance of finding her if she doesn’t want to be found, Bellatrix practically grew up here, she must know all of the perfect hiding places, so Hermione goes back upstairs to stake out Bellatrix's room until she comes back. Sitting on the couch in her little living room, hermione hopes Bellatrix hasn’t left the house or done something stupid.

Chapter Text

Hours have passed, and Hermione is half-heartedly reading one of Bellatrix’s magical theory books when Narcissa walks in. “Oh, Hermione! I didn’t see you there.”

Hermione closes her book and stands up. “Sorry, I’m waiting for Bellatrix to come back. Have you seen her?” a plaintive note rings through Hermione’s voice. She’s getting worried.

“No, I haven’t seen her since earlier today.” Narcissa says. “Can I help you with something?”

How does she explain the situation to Narcissa - your sister saw me naked, I kissed her, she ran away ? She would sound mad. “Uh… She’s helping me with something… she’s been teaching me how to be an animagus.”

A throaty laugh comes from Narcissa, genuine and full, not the titter Hermione’s heard before. “She taught Andromeda and I. She’s good at teaching it, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is, surprisingly. I wouldn’t have imagined her as a good teacher, but she’s been… she’s been great. You and Mrs Tonks are both animagi too? Can you… would you mind showing me?” Hermione is sidetracked from her wait by Narcissa’s revelation.

“Of course I can show you. I can help you find Bella too, but we should go outside. My form isn’t completely suitable for being indoors.” Narcissa smiles and leads Hermione downstairs and into the overgrown garden. “This garden must be my next task. It’s horrific. Stand back a little.”

Hermione does as she says, stepping back and watching, riveted, as Narcissa closes her eyes, then slowly transforms, falling onto four legs, white fur covering her body. The regal lioness pads forward towards Hermione, who gasps. “Oh my god. You’re beautiful.” Narcissa blinks demurely and bows her head a little. Hermione lifts a hand hesitantly, “May I?” Narcissa nods twice, and Hermione walks forward and lays her hand gently on Narcissa’s head, running her fingers through the soft, white fur until Narcissa turns away and bounds to the base of the tree in the far corner of the garden, her powerful body propelling her there in a few long leaps. She snarls at the tree then runs back to Hermione and transforms back to her human form.

Before Hermione can express her awe, Narcissa speaks loudly. “Bellatrix! Come down!” She holds out her arm like a falconer and waits until a black bird soars out of the tree and circles above them, landing on Narcissa’s outstretched arm. The bird caws as Narcissa runs a finger along it’s head and back, then it takes off again, up and up, then diving towards the ground. At the last minute, the bird transforms into Bellatrix, who lands on her feet in the grass, a smug smile on her face after performing her Wronski Feint-like stunt.

“How did you know I was there?” Bellatrix asks Narcissa petulantly.

Narcissa smirks. “I’m a lioness, darling sister. I could smell your scent.” Bellatrix scowls and turns away. “Hermione’s been waiting for you, Bella. She mentioned her brilliant teacher had disappeared.” Bellatrix ignores the compliment and harrumphs. Narcissa glances from Bellatrix to Hermione. “I have to check on Lucius, so I am going to leave you two to talk.”

Alone in the garden, Hermione is suddenly shy, and speechless, her eyes trained on the messy bushes and too-long grass. Bellatrix stomps over to her and roughly pulls her face around so they’re looking at each other. “Don’t ignore me. You came to find me. Say what you have to say.” Bellatrix is defensive. She’s scared of being rejected, attacked, so she’s closing herself off.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Hermione says, shortening her name without thinking about it. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been waiting for you to come back upstairs for hours, I didn't know where you were. I was worried.”

Bellatrix scoffs but she doesn’t move away from Hermione, and her hand stays holding Hermione’s chin. “So you ran to Narcissa, spilled your guts to her.”

Hermione sighs fondly. “I didn’t. All I said was that I was looking for you because you’d been teaching me. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Bellatrix rolls her eyes violently, her nails digging a little into the skin of Hermione’s chin. “I was thinking.”

Hermione lets her body soften a little, tilting towards Bellatrix. “About?”

“You,” Bellatrix whispers. “I shouldn’t. I’m old enough to be your mother. I have hurt your friends. I have killed people. Ruthlessly. You deserve so, so much more than I can give, more than I am.” Her voice is full of pain, but her dark eyes are hard, boring into Hermione’s lighter brown eyes.

“I don’t care, Bella.” Hermione lets herself fall into Bellatrix’s body, and their arms wrap around each other. “I don’t . You are kind. You are funny, and beautiful, and so strong.” Hermione lifts one hand to the back of Bellatrix’s head and pulls her into a kiss. Bellatrix’s response is immediate, her body pressing into Hermione’s, hands roaming until they settle, bracing Hermione’s back and pulling her impossible closer. Eventually breaking apart, Hermione tucks her head against Bellatrix's shoulder, kissing her neck softly. “We can do this.”

“People will talk.” Bellatrix warns.

“Not if we keep it just between-”

Bellatrix yanks herself away, anger coursing through her body. “A dirty little secret! Ha! Keep your shame to yourself? Don’t bother, there’ll be no shameful secret to keep!” She spins away from Hermione, hair flying, eyes blazing.

Grabbing Bellatrix by the wrist before she can get away, Hermione stops her forcefully, digging her heels in. “That is not what I meant! I’m not ashamed that I like you.” She keeps talking, holding on to Bellatrix even as she half-heartedly tries to get away. “I want what we have, whatever it is, to be ours . I want to explore us together without everyone’s thoughts and opinions, so that when we tell them, we are strong together. And if we do decide this was the wrong decision, we can do that without their input. I said earlier, I had almost given up on having a boyfriend, let alone a girlfriend. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but will you be my girlfriend?”

Bellatrix laughs. “At least I'm not the latest in a long string!” She lifts Hermione around the waist and twirls her around. When she stops spinning, she sets Hermione on her feet and draws her into a deep kiss. Hermione marvels at the mercurial temper of her girlfriend, smiling into her kiss.

***

In the next day’s order meeting, Lucius and Bellatrix are interrogated. Afterwards, Bellatrix seeks Hermione out, finding her in the attic, flipping through old books. “How was it?” Hermione reaches for Bellatrix, who takes her hand and sits next to her on the floor.

“Lucius says Severus told him the Carrows have been appointed to Hogwarts. They’re cruel, and they have no boundaries. They egg each other on.” Bellatrix relays with a dull voice. “You’re not going back there.”

Hermione squeezes her hand. “I need my education, Bella. I have no muggle education, so I need to get my NEWTs. I can’t-” Hermione is spiralling until Bellatrix stops her.

“We can teach you here until the war is over. You are clever, you can sit the examinations when it’s safe for you to go to Hogwarts. You don’t think that as soon as you step foot on the grounds while Snape and the Carrows rule the school, you won’t be taken to the Dark Lord and killed?” Bellatrix replies heatedly.

Hermione’s answer is to throw herself into Bellatrix’s arms with enough force to knock them both over backwards. Bellatrix catches her and holds her tight. “I hate it. Sometimes I wish I’d never found out about all this.”

Bellatrix smooths a hand over Hermione’s hair. “You’ve seen the worst of our world, but you were born to it. You are the cleverest witch of your age and when this is all over, I’m going to show you the best of the magical world. Remus is already planning who can teach what - you will get a better education here than you will at Hogwarts.”

“They’ll target Neville, and Luna. I need to talk to Remus.” Hermione starts to get up, but Bellatrix pulls her back, snuggling on the floor in each other’s arms.

“My sweet girl,” Bellatrix murmurs, and Hermione arches up and kisses her firmly.

***

Autumn goes by quickly, bringing with it Neville, Luna, and Hermione’s birthday. Neville and Luna were collected from Platform 9 ¾ by Tonks in disguise, spiriting them away back to Grimmauld Place. Neville bunks in with Harry and Ron, Luna with Hermione and Ginny, and Draco remains on his own - none of the boys offer to share with him and no one pushes the issue. The school is established in a spare bedroom on the empty second floor - and it is a room where tentative friendships are formed. Hermione starts to accept Luna’s alternative ideas, and Draco makes an effort to befriend Harry. Ron is openly hostile to the Slytherin, and while Neville is not, he definitely doesn’t become fast friends with the blonde. The classroom splits, Draco, Hermione, and Luna at one table, Neville, Ginny, and Ron at another, with Harry switching between tables. Remus teaches them Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, Narcissa teaches Potions and Herbology, Andromeda takes Charms and History - both of magic and of muggles, and Astronomy is taught by Sirius.

After classes each day, Hermione goes to Bellatrix’s room where they keep practicing her transformation now that the other teens are using the library more. After each successful change, Bellatrix rewards Hermione with a kiss. They grow closer over the months, confiding in each other and spending every spare moment together.

Christmas sneaks up on Grimmauld Place with Tonks and Sirius spearheading the decorating and overall Christmas-ifying of the house. Owls deliver packages almost daily in the lead up to Christmas Day as everyone rushes to intercept their gifts before the recipient can find them.

On Christmas Morning, Hermione rises extra early, wrapping her fluffy dressing gown around herself and slipping from her shared room and upstairs to Bellatrix’s room, a small gift box in her hand. She doesn’t go into the bedroom, just settles onto the couch and picks up her book, waiting for Bellatrix to appear. When she does, she sneaks up on Hermione, wrapping her arms tight around Hermione’s shoulders and kisses her. Hermione doesn’t startle, as Bellatrix expected, she just sighs and leans into Bellatrix’s embrace. “Merry Christmas, Bella.” Hermione says as Bellatrix vaults smoothly over the back of the couch. Bellatrix doesn’t say anything, she just kisses Hermione deeply, pulling the younger woman onto her lap, hands roaming up her thighs and over her hips to settle on her back with just enough pressure to keep them pressed together.

“Bella,” Hermione’s voice is a breathy gasp. “Bella.”

“Hmm?” Bellatrix hums, her mouth drifting down Hermione’s neck, sucking, biting, soothing.

Hermione’s head falls back, and Bellatrix’s hand is there, sliding into her hair right at the base of her neck. “I… Um,” Hermione takes a breath to focus, “I have something for you.”

This makes Bellatrix pull back, hands landing on Hermione’s shoulders, holding her still, and Hermione can’t stop the whine of longing for Bellatrix’s mouth back on her skin. “What?” Bellatrix demands, all steely eyes and digging fingers.

“I know we agreed that we wouldn’t get presents but… but I thought you deserve a gift from someone who lo- who cares for you.” Hermione feels the L word nearly slip from her lips, and she drags it back from the tip of her tongue. If she says it at the wrong time, Bellatrix will spook, and they’ll just go backwards. For some unfathomable reason, Bellatrix has chosen to trust Hermione, to let her in, and Hermione doesn’t want to lose that because of her feelings.

Bellatrix humpfs, but her eyes are bright, and her mouth has softened from the terse line it had snapped into and she’s almost smiling. One thumb is slowly flicking along the edge of Hermione’s dressing gown, occasionally grazing her skin. Leaning over and grabbing the little box from where it’s tucked under a cushion, Hermione hands it to Bellatrix. “Happy Christmas.”

The wrapping paper is torn off in a way that makes Hermione suppress a flinch, and Bellatrix opens the black box to reveal a silver bracelet. It’s made of delicately embossed chain links, and hanging at equal distances are impossibly small and detailed charms, so much so that they are obviously goblin-crafted - mo muggle metalworker would be able to get this much detail on such small pieces. Bellatrix runs a trembling finger over the chain nestled in the box, but she doesn’t pick it up.

“May I?” asks Hermione quietly, and Bellatrix gives a small, jerky nod. Hermione lifts the bracelet carefully with one hand, the other guiding Bellatrix’s hand, palm up, into the space between them. Clasping the bracelet, Hermione lifts each charm onto the pad on her finger, turning Bellatrix’s wrist as she goes. “You, me. Narcissa. Andromeda. Sirius. Regulus.” Hermione lists, lifting the jackdaw, the owl, lioness, badger, dog, and star, dropping each one and letting it dangle, to lift the next, and when she’s done, she slides her hand palm to palm with Bellatrix’s, fingers entwined together. “Your family.”

“It’s… It’s beautiful, sweet girl.” Bellatrix is clearly battling her emotions as she bends her neck, forehead resting against Hermione’s, dark eyes closed. “Thank you.” Bellatrix seizes Hermione, flipping her so she’s on her back against the cushions, Bellatrix looming over her, and their eyes meet for a moment before Bellatrix swoops down and kisses her passionately. Her hands slip underneath Hermione’s pyjama top, sparking against the bare skin of her stomach, and Hermione arches into her touch.

When the house begins to come alive, the witches reluctantly pull apart. Bellatrix walks Hermione to the door, eyes transfixed by her bracelet, and she lets out a chuckle. “What?” Hermione asks, and Bellatrix just holds up her wrist, the badger charm balanced on her fingertip.

“Andromeda’s literally a badger. It’s fucking hilarious,” replies Bellatrix. Hermione just shakes her head a little, smiling at Bellatrix’s happy mood. One more kiss, and Hermione slips back downstairs and down to the kitchen. She brings up a mug of tea for her roommates, and still no one suspects that she’s spent the better part of an hour snogging Bellatrix already today.

Hermione takes a little more time getting ready, both because it’s Christmas, and because she want s to give Bellatrix something to look at over Christmas dinner. The dark-haired witch doesn’t like gathering with all the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, and Hermione hopes that today she’ll stay a little longer than the minimum required, because there’s no way she could slip away to spend the day sequestered with Bellatrix.

When she finally arrives downstairs with Ginny, the kitchen is already bustling. The Tonks’ are here, and all the Weasleys. Molly and Andromeda are cooking, under the furious glare of Kreacher, while Arthur quizzes Ted on muggle things (Hermione steers clear of that conversation), and Charlie and Tonks are holding hands and talking to Bill and Fleur at one end of the table. Fred and George are plotting with Sirius, and Remus watches them with a found, exasperated gaze, his hand resting on Sirius’s shoulder, most of his attention directed to the discussion he’s having with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ginny sits down next to Luna, and Neville joins them a minute later. There are a few empty seats, then the Malfoys are at the other end, and so is Bellatrix. Hermione slips into the spare seat next to Bellatrix, opposite Draco, and soon enough, Harry comes down and takes the seat on her other side. Last to appear is Ron, somehow still bleary-eyed as he sits between Harry and Ginny. Percy is conspicuously absent, as he has been for months, and Molly’s eyes rake over the room in a futile search for her absent son. Molly and Andromeda serve up breakfast and take the last seats.

The large group is loud and cheerful as they move into the drawing room, and between the kitchen and the drawing room, Bellatrix disappears upstairs with a glance at Hermione, who stays behind and they all start exchanging presents, which takes a good hour.

Sirius leads the charge to the liquor cabinet after the present, suffering the disapproving glares from Molly with good grace as he sips his firewhiskey. The smell of Christmas dinner is infiltrating the house when Bellatrix appears at Sirius’s shoulder and steals his freshly poured drink with a smirk, retreating to lean against the wall, cradling the tumbler in her hands and Sirius huffs and gets up to pour another drink for himself. Hermione’s nursing a mug of mulled wine, talking quietly with Remus and Draco about a book she’s just finished when she sees Bellatrix enter, and she sees the frown that crinkles Ron’s face when he finally notices she’s rejoined the group. Hot anger burns through her body. “... and the theory is really well laid out… excuse me. Sorry.” Hermione leaves her mugs and escapes into the hallway.

Of course, she’d been seeing Ron glaring at Bellatrix and the Malfoys ever since they arrived, but she’d hoped that with exposure to them as everyday people, he’d soon realise that none of them were as evil as he seemed to think. Hermione leans against the hallway, closing her eyes and sighing as she calms herself down.

“Hermione? Are you alright?” It’s Sirius, concern written all over his face when he spies Hermione in the hallway.

Hermione startles, and Sirius laughs an apology. If she tells him what’s upset her, he might ask why, but she has to tell someone something, or she’ll burst. “It’s Ron,” she begins, and Sirius chuckles, nodding. “Everytime he sees Bellatrix, or Narcissa, or Mr Malfoy, or even Draco, he frowns and glares, and gives them dirty looks, and it drives me crazy! It’s been months! Surely he’s realised by now that they’re nowhere near as bad as he clearly thinks they are! It’s just not fair!” Hermione rants, and Sirius listens. He’s quiet for a while as he thinks what to say.

“When I go out with Remus, as Padfoot, obviously, sometimes I think I see the looks people give him, but he doesn’t. One night, I got so furious at him for not even noticing, and I just blew up at him. Do you know what he said?” Hermione shakes her head. “He said ‘of course I notice, Sirius. How could I not? I feel their eyes on me every second of every day, but I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t let them get to me. They think they know what I am, but they don’t. I know what I am, and that’s all that matters.’” Sirius lets his words hang in the air as Hermione digests them.

“So you’re saying she- they know how Ron feels, but they’re choosing not to pick a fight, to ignore it?” Hermione frowns in confusion.

Sirius nods, his hand falling to Hermione’s shoulder. “Exactly. And it’s their choice whether or not to confront Ron. I think my cousins know that starting arguments with Ron would not help get people onside. They’re Slytherins, they’re letting him be the bad guy.”

“Thank you.”

A gleam comes into Sirius’s eyes. “If you wanna thank me, you could nick Bellatrix’s drink?” He asks slyly, and Hermione shakes her head with a laugh.

“No, I’m not getting between you two,” Hermione says. Sirius laughs, and they part ways just as Molly calls for dinner. After stuffing themselves on Christmas ham, roast potatoes, treacle tart, and Christmas pudding, the younger group split into teams to play charades, while the older group watched and drank. Hermione can feel Bellatrix’s eyes on her the whole time, until the game ends, and she slips from the room. Hermione follows as soon as she can, finding Bellatrix upstairs and pressing her up against the wall. “You were watching me.”

“You’re good at the game,” replies Bellatrix. Her face is the picture of innocence, except for her smoldering eyes. Hermione just laughs and kisses Bellatrix.

“Come flying with me?” Hermione proposes. Over the months she’d gotten better and better at her animagus transformation, first learning how to make the transformation effortless, then learning how to transform her clothes with ehr so she didn’t end up naked on the floor every time. Eventually, Bellatrix had decided Hermione was good enough to start flying outside, first in the garden, then eventually higher and higher over Grimmauld Place, and the park opposite the house.

“No. we’ve both been drinking, and you haven’t transformed under the influence before. We’ll practice that one day when I’m sober and I can properly supervise.” Bellatrix says, shutting down the question.

Hermione pouts, her hands braced on the wall on either side of Bellatrix. “I’m not drunk.”

“No, sweet girl. But you’re not strictly sober. It’s about safety. Of course you’re fully capable of making sound decisions. I’ve had more to drink than you, and I don’t want to risk you hurting yourself because I wasn’t looking after you.” Bellatrix tries to explain, but it doesn’t go very well because Hermione’s face clouds over, stepping away from Bellatrix.

“I don’t need looking after.” Her voice is steely and she crosses her arms across her chest before Bellatrix can take her hands in her own.

Bellatrix sighs heavily. “That’s not what I meant! I meant… I meant that as your teacher, I’m responsible for your wellbeing in regards to your transformation until you fire me, or I decide you don’t need teaching anymore. We’re both slightly tipsy, and it’s freezing out there. We’d get lost in the clouds.” Bellatrix steps forward slowly and takes Hermione by the shoulders. The young woman’s body is tensed up, but her muscles twitch and relax at Bellatrix’s touch. “And as your girlfriend, I’d much rather spend Christmas evening snogging you on the couch?”

Hermione mulls it over, cogs turning in her brain until she decides, unfolding her arms and pulling bellatrix closer. “Fair enough,” she murmurs as their lips meet. Bellatrix walks Hermione over to the couch, and sits down, the brunette straddling Bellatrix’s lap as their kisses become more heated than ever. Hermone’s fingers are knotting in the laces and ties of Bellatrix’s corset and pulling slightly. She pulls away from Bellatrix, sighing in frustration. “How do I get this thing off?”

“Start at the bow, and loosen, like shoelaces. Promise me you’re not drunk?” Bellatrix’s hands cup Hermione’s face, staring into her eyes as if that will correctly determine Hermione’s state of intoxication.

Hermione nods. “I’m not, I promise. You can do the sobering charm if you want to.”

Bellatrix reaches for her wand and wordlessly performs the charm twice. It’s like a cold slug smiling down her spine, but she feels infinitely better knowing she’s not taking advantage of Hermione. “It’s only whatever you want, okay?”

“I want you, Bella,” Hermione says, blushing a little, then diverting her focus to Bellatrix’s laces, which she slowly loosens while Bellatrix’s lip returns to the love bite she was creating on Hermione’s pale neck. The corset comes off, and so does Bellatrix’s skirt, leaving her in a strappy silk chemise, and her knickers. Bellatrix’s hands drift to the hem of Hermione’s jumper.

“May I?” She asks, pulling her lips away from Hermione's neck, satisfied with the mark she’s left, knowing Hermione will have to use magic to cover it up.

Hermione moans and leans into Bellatrix. “Yes.” Bellatrix slowly pulls the jumper up and off, then her hands run back down Hermione's arms, and settle on her hips. The brunette is left in her bra and jeans, straddling Bellatrix, mussed hair and swollen lips, and she bends down and kisses Bellatrix again, her hands roaming all over until they settle on sliding the straps off Bellatrix’s shoulders, revealing mor and more skin, layered with scars and the odd prison tattoo. Bellatrix responds by lifting her fingers to hermione bra, and she’s just about to unclasp it when the door bangs open.

Hermione dives for her jumper, fanically untangling it and pulling it back on, her back to the door, while Bellatrix slowly slides her straps back up, crossing her legs and leaning back against the couch. Narcissa flies through the door, triumph held in her every muscle. “Cissy,” Bellatrix says calmly, and Hermione, jumper finally on, spins around with a gasp.

“I knew it.” The satisfaction oozes out of Narcissa’s voice. “I knew something was going on. Andromeda will absolutely-”

“Nothing. Andromeda will do nothing, because you are not telling her. You will keep your mouth shut. ” Bellatrix’s stern voice cuts through Narcissa’s excitement.

“ Pourquoi? C'est ton sale petit secret? ” Narcissa replies in French, waving her hands around.

Bellatrix spings up from the couch, advancing on Narcissa. “ Non! Je n'ai pas besoin de m'expliquer, Narcissa! ” She shouts, but Narcissa doesn’t give an inch, shouting back at her sister.

“ Oui, c'est vrai! Lorsque vous avez des relations sexuelles secrètes avec un adolescent de dix-sept ans, vous le faites! Et remets tes vêtements .”

“ Elle a dix-huit ans! Et nous ne faisons pas l'amour .” Bellatrix stalks into the bedroom and yanks on a dressing gown, yelling at Narcissa the whole time. “ Narcissa, je suis amoureux d'elle. ” Bellatrix's voice goes soft at the end, and Narcissa’s perfect eyebrows crawl up her forehead.

“ Je peux parler français ” Hermione’s voice cuts through the silence left by Bellatrix’s words. She’d been listening to the conversation, picking up as much as she could with her rudimentary French. It was clear that the sisters had switched languages so that they could have a more private conversation - Hermione didn’t even need to understand Narcissa’s cutting comments to know that they were directed at her. But when Bellatrix says she’s in love with Hermione, there’s no way she can pretend not to understand that. Hermione had nearly said the same thing that very morning, but she’d held off, scared of frightening Bellatrix away, and now Hermione knows they both feel the same way, and they are both scared to tell the other.

Hermione walks up to Bellatrix, one hand reaching to hold Bellatrix's, the other cupping her cheek. “I’m in love with you too, Bella.” Hermione lets a grin curve her lips, and pure joy sparks across Bellatrix’s face. Ignoring Narcissa, Bellatrix kisses Hermione tenderly, drawing her body close.

“Right, so why can’t I tell Andromeda then?” Narcissa asks, relentless. She doesn’t bother apologising for the things she said about Hermione in French, its understood by all three witches that those words were harsher than what would’ve been chosen if the blonde had known Hermione could understand the conversation.

Bellatrix bristles, and Hermione wraps an arm around her waist, and answers for her. “We were nervous about what the reaction would be, so we decided to keep our relationship to ourselves for a bit, while we figured it out. Obviously, the cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Well, we’ll shove it back in!” Bellatrix demands, and Hermione turns a little so she can look at her face.

“I don’t mind if we start telling people. I think we’ll have to do it someday, so why not now? I think Andromeda will be the least of our troubles.”

Bellatrix scoffs. “Andromeda's a gossip. But your weasel will be worse-”

“I’ve told you not to call him that. I know he’s… stuck in his ways, but I hope that he will come around. Once everyone sees that you make me happy…” Hermione trails off. Bellatrix is scared of how everyone will react, and rightfully so, as they’re only just beginning to come around to the idea of her not being evil, and now they’ll find out that she’s in a relationship with their golden girl.

“We could talk to Andromeda tomorrow? If you really want to? They all already think the worst of me, but they adore you, my sweet.” Bellatrix concedes, and Hermione nods.

“Andy can keep a secret, Bella. We didn’t know she was running away until she was gone, remember?” Narcissa interjects. They are quite sweet together, and she’s never seen Bellatrix be this kind to anyone, apart from her sisters.

***

Bellatrix was sitting with Hermione in the small sitting room adjacent to her bedroom. After less than a minute of sitting still, Bellatrix stands up again, wandering over to the window, then to the fire whiskey decanter and glasses on the mantelpiece. “Bella,” Hermione reminded softly. She had already told her black-haired girlfriend that she didn’t need a drink at nine in the morning. Bellatrix gave her a dirty look and sat down again. Narcissa was fetching Andromeda.

A knock sounds at the door, then it opens, and Hermione pulls Bellatrix’s hand into hers. Narcissa comes in, followed by Andromeda. The middle sister immediately notices Hermione’s presence, and Bellatrix’s hand in hers. “What’s going on?” Andromeda asks, stopping in the middle of the room as Narcissa folds herself elegantly into an armchair.

Bellatrix draws in a huge sigh, then lets it out in a huff. Her eyes stray back to the firewhiskey, and Hermione squeezes her hand gently. “I’ve been seeing Hermione. Since August,” Bellatrix says shortly, her shoulders curling a little as she waits for Andromeda’s reaction.

The healer is silent. She stands, and she thinks. The silence becomes uncomfortable, but nobody says anything.

“This is consensual?” She asks.

Hermione blushes. “We’ve not actually… you know. We’ve only kissed.”

“Shirtless kissing,” Narcissa smirks from her corner, watching the conversation with glee.

“Find somewhere else to get your kicks, Cissy,” Bellatrix snarks, but Narcissa just laughs.

“Whatever it is, is it consensual? Andromeda presses, frowning a little now.

“Yes! Of course!” Hermione says indignantly. “I kissed her first, she was worried, but I convinced her to give it a go… and here we are.” Hermione shares a smile with Bellatrix.

“I was teaching her about animagi,” adds Bellatrix. “She’s very good. And very curious. Could you show her your form, darling sister?”

“Of course I can show you, hermione,” Andromeda answers, and Bellatrix bounces in her seat, “when my darling sister has buggered off.”

Bellatrix flips Andromeda off, and Andromeda blithely returns the gesture. “You both want this? And you know a lot of people won’t be happy about it?”

Hermione’s hackles rise. “I love bellatrix, and anyone who has anything to say can sod right off! It’s none of their goddamn business!”

“Hear, hear!” Bellatrix cheers. “You two can go now.” She waves her hand and the door opens a crack, creaking as it does so.

“I was going to say you seem happier, Bella, but it seems to be selective,” Andromeda says as she moves towards the door.

“I’m not sure we should go, Andy,” Narcissa teases, “Not if Bella’s going to corrupt Hermione with her debauched and wicked ways.” Narcissa stands up and follows Andromeda towards the door, despite her words.

“Out, I say!” Bellatrix flicked her hand again and the door swings wide open, banging. Andromeda and Narcissa leave huddled together, giggling and whispering. Bellatrix pulled Hermione close. “Is there anyone you wanted to tell?”

Hermione snuggles into Bellatrix’s embrace. “I’d like to tell Sirius and Remus. I think they’d understand, and Draco?”

“Cissy’s probably already told Lucius, they like two halves of one fucking person.”

“I think that’s nice,” Hermione says thoughtfully. “We could just tell everyone at dinner tonight? Get it over with?”

“We could leave a note on the dining table, and hide in a tree and watch the chaos through the window?” Bellatrix suggests, and Hermione laughs.

“You’re such a Slytherin! We should just go in there together and tell them.”

“You’re such a Gryffindor,” Bellatrix mocks, pulling Hermione close for a kiss.

Hermione moans against Bellatrix’s mouth. “I’m your Gryffindor.”

“Yes. Mine.”

Hermione thrills at the possessiveness in Bellatrix's voices and she sits back and starts unbuttoning her shirt. “Now, I do believe we were in the middle of something before we were so rudely interrupted yesterday.”

Bellatrix raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure, sweet girl? We don’t have to.” Bellatrix asks quietly, as if afraid of sudden rejection.

Hermione sighs and tosses her shirt behind her. “I want to. I’m always sure with you.” She pushes Bellatrix back against the couch and starts work on loosening her corset.

Chapter Text

Hermione is half-asleep, snuggled against Bellatrix, skin to bare skin. Her eyes are closed, and time drifts by, a pleasant heaviness settling in her limbs as Bellatrix’s fingers trail up and down her arm.

“ Je t'aime plus que tu ne pourrais jamais savoir, ma belle chérie ,” Bellatrix says softly, emotion choking her voice. She thinks Hermione is asleep, and the younger witch doesn’t want to startle her lover, so she just hums contentedly and tightens her grip around Bellatrix’s waist.

Bellatrix freezes for a moment, then her fingers resume their trip along Hermione’s arm. Slowly, she curls her neck and presses a kiss to the crown of Hermione’s head.

Heavy footsteps sound as someone comes up the stairs, loudly and quickly. Bellatrix tenses, her hand gripping Hermione’s arm, and before they get the chance to move, they hear the living room door being thrown open, and a moment later, the bedroom door too.

Sirius bounds into the room, a bit like the dog he is, then he stops, and takes in the scene. Hermione opens her eyes slowly. Bellatrix is holding Hermione with one arm, the other hand clamped down on the duvet covering them, making sure it doesn’t move.

The easy grin falls from Sirius’s face, and he steps back. “I’m gonna leave you to get dressed. Then we’re going to have a conversation about-” he waves his hands around abstractly, “this. Whatever this is.” He retreats from the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

“It’ll be alright, Belle,” Hermione says reassuringly. Bellatrix has tensed up, the relaxation completely lost from her body, so Hermione pulls herself up and kisses her deeply. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bellatrix smooths her hand over Hermione’s hair. They get dressed quickly, aware that Sirius is waiting for them in the next room. Hermione takes a moment to lace Bellatrix back into her corset, and she presses a kiss to her neck, beneath her prison tattoo.

With a deep breath, Hermione takes Bellatrix’s hand in her own and opens the door. Sirius is sitting in an armchair, and Hermione leads Bellatrix over to the couch. No one says anything, until Sirius gives in.

“Molly says dinner will be ready in half an hour, she won’t let Kreacher cook alone, she still insists that she can do better. So we don’t have long,” says Sirius.

“Do we need long?” Bellatrix responds, prickly and defensive.

“I don’t know, do we? What exactly is going on here?” This is perhaps the most serious Hermione has ever seen Sirius, apart from the time in the shrieking shack in third year. He’s not being unkind, but he is being firm. He expects answers, so Hermione gives them.

“I think it’s exactly what it looks like. I didn’t expect it to happen, I don’t think Bella did either,” Hermione speaks thoughtfully, and Sirius doesn’t interrupt. “But… It wasn’t necessarily a surprise, either. We fell in love.” Hermione turns away from Sirius and shares a fond look with Bellatrix.

Another silence falls over the room, until Sirius speaks. “Bella?” he prompts. His face isn’t giving anything away.

Bellatrix raises an arched eyebrow. “She’s right. I fought against it. I love her, Sirius. I didn’t even know I could, but I do.”

Sirius nods slowly. “Right-”

“We were already planning on telling everyone tonight. Narcissa and Andromeda already know,” Hermione says, pre-empting his questions. “The secrecy was to protect ourselves. We didn’t see the point in going through all the inevitable upset if it turned out to be nothing between us. So we’ll tell everyone at dinner.”

“Okay. You have my… blessing, I guess. But now I owe Remus twenty galleons. I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t be late,” Sirius winks lasciviously, and Bellatrix flips her middle finger at him.

“Fuck off, Sirius,” she shouts after his retreating form.

“Let’s do this, hm?” Hermione asks, shifting to straddle Bellatrix’s lap. The dark witch’s hand shifts to Hermione’s jean-clad bum, and Hermione can’t stop the involuntary roll of her hips into Bellatrix’s grip.

“We have no choice now.  Besides, I’m sick to death of the way that boy looks at you. He undresses you in his ginger head. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. You. Are. MINE,” says Bellatrix with a growl, punctuating the last words with  nibbling kisses.

“Yours,” Hermione agrees, melting against Bellatrix’s body. “And you’re mine.”

Bellatrix’s eyes crinkle. Last time she belonged to somebody, she was manipulated and hurt, but the idea of belonging to Hermione just fills her whole body with fireworks. “Yours,” Bellatrix breathes, and kisses Hermione once more, softly and tenderly.

By the time Hermione and Bellatrix get down to the kitchen, everyone is milling around the room, looking decidedly worse for wear after their Christmas celebrations. Bellatrix slides into the space next to Narcissa, and Hermione takes the empty seat next to her. Soon the whole table fills up with Malfoys, Weasleys, and Blacks. The seat next to Hermione is taken by Remus. Dinner passes slowly, though Hermione has a good conversation with Remus. Her ankle hooks around Bellatrix’s, and they stay touching throughout the meal.

Hermione can see that a few people are getting ready to excuse themselves, and Sirius keeps sending her pointed looks. She bends closer to Bellatrix. “Should we do it now? What do we say?” She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her.

“What was it you were talking about the other day? What your Emmeline Dankpurse said?” asks Bellatrix quietly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Hermione answers slowly. “Emmeline Pankhurst , Bella. Deeds not words.” She can tell where Bellatrix is heading with this, but she doesn’t really have any other ideas about how to say it properly.

A grin pulled at Bellatrix’s berry coloured lips. “Yes! Deeds not words,” she repeated with satisfaction. “Oi!”

Slowly, everyone’s attention turned towards the dark haired witch, who smiled predatorily, though Hermione could see the apprehension in her dark eyes. Bellatrix disentangles her foot from Hermione’s and stands up, her hand linking with Hermione’s and pulling her to her feet too. Sirius is just about bouncing out of his chair with glee, as if he’s watching a spectacular prank go off.

Bellatrix tilts her head the tiniest bit up and as she closes in, Hermione’s world narrows, and everyone watching them fades away. Their lips meet incredibly softly, Bellatrix’s strong arms wrapping around Hermione’s body as she yields to Bellatrix’s insistent touch. Hermione draws away from Bellatrix with a sigh, remaining in her arms, as the kitchen goes up in shouts. “So you can all stop eyeing up my girlfriend,” Bellatrix says with a smirk.

Luna touches her fingers to Ron’s chin, light as a feather. “You really should close your mouth, Ronald. You’ll swallow a nargle.” Ron snaps his jaw closed, forehead furrowing into a frown.

Remus nudges Sirius with a gratified smile, and Sirius rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Twenty galleons.” Hermione makes sure Remus sees her glare, and he has the good sense to look the tiniest bit ashamed of betting on her love life.

Narcissa is whispering with Lucius, and Ted is asking Andromeda whether she knew. Draco, Harry, and Neville seem to be processing the new information, while Luna doesn’t seem to care. The older Weasley children also seem rather unaffected, as does Tonks, who Hermione notices is sat rather close to Charlie Weasley.

“You’re NOT!” Ron shouts in disbelief as he finally computes what he’s seen.  “Shagging a Death Eater, Hermione? Bloody hell, that’s desperate! And disgusting!”

Molly is staring in shock, so Arthur waved a hand in a little shushing motion. “Ronald,” he says, gently chastising, but Ron ignores him completely. A sinking feels floods Hermione’s stomach. So this is how it’s going to be.

“Has she cursed you? I wouldn’t put it past her! She must have, there’s no way you’d go for that ! She’s a murderer !” Ron is still shouting, standing up and gesticulating with his knife and fork still in his hands, bits of food flying off them.

Bellatrix shudders beneath Hermione’s hands at Ron’s words, and Hermione twists her fingers into the laces of Bellatrix’s corset, holding on. “Ron, please . Don’t be like this,” says Hermione quietly then she speaks to the room at large. “Bella hasn’t done anything to me. I was the one who instigated everything. All that happened is that we fell in love . I love Bella, and she loves me, and all we ask is that you respect that.”

Finally, Molly speaks up. “Hermione, dear,” she speaks pityingly. “I’m sure there are plenty of nice boys who’d love to step out with you, even right here!” She gestures towards Ron, Harry, and Neville. “You could try again with Ron.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with Harry, or Neville. Ron and I had our chance at the beginning of the summer, and it didn’t work out.” Hermione replies with a cold voice. “I’m not with Bellatrix because she’s the only one who’ll have me. I’m with her because I love her.”

“You’re so young, my dear. What do you know of love? Molly says patronisingly, clearly not looking for an answer, but Bellatrix speaks before Molly can continue.

“And what did you know when you had your first child, fresh out of Hogwarts? Hermione is eighteen, she’s as much an adult as I am, and she is clever. She knows her own mind.” Bellatrix’s voice is harsh and low, and she leans forward threateningly.

“Mione, I’ll give you another shot, come on. We’re great for each other!” Ron pipes up, and Hermione sighs deeply. “I just hope you haven’t done anything gross with that bitch!” He laughs as if he’s told a hilarious joke, but no one else laughs. No one reprimands him either, though rage is simmering beneath Sirius’s skin, and Bellatrix’s sisters are sending Ron death glares.

Hermione looks at the Weasleys. She’d been completely wrong about them. Even Ginny was staring, aghast. She knew the Blacks and Malfoys were on their side, but she also knew this was a shocking revelation. Hermione feels tears burning her eyes, and before they fall, she tries to run out of the kitchen, but before she can get far, Bellatrix catches her wrist and spins her back into her arms, her thumb gently brushing the tears off Hermione’s cheeks as they fall. Hermione can’t stop the tears, so she hides her face against Bellatrix’s neck.

“How. Dare. You.” Bellatrix’s voice is icy, a complete contrast to how tenderly she is holding Hermione close to her body. “How dare you treat her like this.  How dare you make her cry when you proclaim to be her friends, her family. She has sent her parents halfway across the world to keep them safe, and she has come to you, in the middle of a war, in a society she doesn’t know, and you spurn her because she has the misfortune to love me.” Bellatrix is shaking with rage. “I know what I am, I am under no illusions, but she loves me despite that. You invalidate her feelings, and you have no right to the trust and love she has given you!” Bellatrix finishes by shouting, bosom heaving against her corset, cheeks flushed red.

“Hear hear!” Sirius says loudly, standing up and raising his goblet as Bellatrix turns her attention to Hermione. “I may also be a wanted man, but while I live, this is my house, and I will not tolerate anyone speaking to someone as rude as that. Hermione and Bellatrix are both adults, and so is almost everyone here, and they all have the right to sleep with whoever they like, so long as it is consensual. Good evening.” Sirius marches out of the room, ever the drama queen.

Lucius is the next to stand up, and he gives Ron a cruel look. “Do refrain from discussing my family in such a manner. Ever,” he drawls, then he takes Narcissa by the hand they walk out. Draco follows, and then so do Andromeda and Ted, then Tonks, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur, who stops with a gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Zer vere people who did not approve zat I vould marry my Villiam, because of ‘iz scars. You saved my seester’s life in ze Tournament. I owe you a debt much greater than my support,” she says, flicking her silvery hair and striding away.

Hermione smiles at her tearfully. “Can we go upstairs now?” She whispers to Bellatrix, who nods. As they leave, they hear Molly stuttering, and Ron muttering in anger. Remus is beginning to slowly explain and bring them round as Arthur soothes his wife.

Harry catches Hermione and Bellatrix on the landing, and Draco drops down a few stairs to join them. “I can’t say I understand, ‘Mione. But It’s your decision, and I support you,” says Harry with earnest green eyes, and Draco nods.

“What Potter said. You’re my aunt, and you’re my friend. Just don’t hurt each other.”

Hermione reaches for Harry’s hand and squeezes it. “Thank you, both.” She lets Bellatrix guide her upstairs, through her suite and into the bathroom.

“How about a bath, hm?” Bellatrix asks and Hermione nods, allowing Bellatrix to undress her and help her into the big, sweet-smelling bubble bath that she’d run.

Bellatrix is undressing when Hermione speaks. “I don’t understand. I mean, I do, but perhaps I was naive, I just didn’t think...” Bellatrix feels a flutter of panic. She’s never known the sting of betrayal like this, she doesn’t usually herself to get so invested that people have this much power to hurt her. She remembers the emotions when Andromeda eloped with Ted, but in hindsight, the pain had been dulled with the hatred pushed into her by the curse she’d been under, So Bellatrix simply settles into the bath behind Hermione, her legs bracketing Hermione’s body, her arms pulling her back against her chest. Hermione lets her head tilt back onto Bellatrix’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand either, my sweet girl,” says Bellatrix, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple. “But there are plenty of people here who are being open-minded and accepting. Put everyone else out of your mind for now.”

Hermione does as she’s told. She lets Bellatix take care of her - washing her, drying her, dressing her in pyjamas and helping her into bed, when someone knocks on the door. Bellatrix goes to answer it, and a moment later, she returns with Sirius and Remus in tow. Hermione puts down her book, and takes Bellatrix’s hand as the older witch settles back on the bed.

“We’ve managed a compromise with Molly,” Remus begins.

“About us?” Hermione asks sharply.

“Yes, about you.”

“Like it or not, this isn’t a situation we expected when we invited seven teenagers into our house,” Sirius says, perching on Bellatrix’s chest of drawers, and she sends a silent stinging hex his way. He dodges it with a laugh, and Bella smirks.

Remus pulls his teacher face and grabs Sirius by the arm, forcing him to stand still next to him. “We have made the point that you are both consenting adults, but Molly insisted that you not be allowed to sleep together, so you must sleep in your own room, Hermione.”

Sirius gives her a cheeky look. “We all know you can do what you like during the day,” he giggles a little, and Bellatrix tosses a cushion at him. It hits his arm as he dances out of range.

A long-suffering sigh comes from Remus. “The agreement was that you would not sleep in Bellatrix’s room, Hermione, and in return, Ron and Molly will make no more unsavoury comments.” He’s ignoring Bellatrix and Sirius, who are now engaging in an all out pillow fight.

“What right does the Weasel woman have to stop my girlfriend sleeping in my room? Bellatrix asks, her voice dark from behind the pillow she’s holding up as a defense against Sirius’s barrage of cushions.

“She doesn’t want big, bad, Bellatrix to debauch Gryffindor’s Golden Girl!” Sirius laughs, chucking his last cushion at Bellatrix, then he realises he’s thrown all his cushions at her, and now she is surrounded with ammunition, and he is unprotected.

Bellatrix smirks, and all the cushions fly at Sirius, knocking him to the floor. “I always was better than you, little cousin.” Remus helps Sirius up, and Bellatrix summons all her cushions back.

“We compromised,” Remus starts to explain.

“You can do whatever you like, so long as Molly doesn’t find out,” Sirius interjects with a saucy grin, and Hermione blocks Bellatrix before she can throw another cushion at him.

“We’re all stuck in this house together until You-Know-Who is defeated, compromising means we can live peacefully, Bella. And Sirius is right-”

Bellatrix scowls. “Don’t say that, or he’ll get a big head.”

Hermione smiles at Bellatrix. “What Molly doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“You’re all snakes underneath your lion costumes.” Bellatrix tugs Hermione closer, and Sirius pulls the finger at his cousin.

Remus shoves Sirius towards the door. “We agreed on a curfew for everyone in the house to be in their own bedrooms only past eleven,” he says, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Hermione looks at Bellatrix. Her inky hair is damp, just starting to curl up again as it dries. There’s a pink flush high on her cheekbones. “Bella.” She waits until Bellatrix meets her eyes. “I love you.”

“It would be easier for you if you didn’t,” whispers Bellatrix, pulling Hermione into a hug.

“Is love supposed to be easy? Or is it supposed to challenge us, and push us to our limits? Professor Dumbledore once said something about a choice between what is right and what is easy. You might not be easy,” Hermione chuckles, and even Bellatrix can admit that the brunette has a fair point, “but you- this… us. It feels right . In my bones, in my soul, in my very magic, it feels right when I’m with you.”

“Yes.” Bellatrix pushes Hermione flat on the bed and crawls on top of her, bending to kiss her deeply, and Hermione's body curves up into Bellatrix’s touch.

***

Hermione goes back into her own room at eleven on the dot, and Ginny is awake and reading a quidditch magazine. Luna is asleep. Ginny doesn’t say anything as Hermione folds Bellatrix’s dressing gown and places it on the end of her bed, then, wearing Bellatrix's black pyjamas, climbs into bed and goes to sleep.

Birds chirp outside the window, and sunlight pours through the cracks in the curtains as Hermione wakes up. Ginny and Luna are still asleep, so Hermione slips out and goes to make some tea. In the kitchen, she finds Molly and Kreacher cooking, and Lucius, ever the devoted husband, is preparing breakfast in bed for his wife. He does this every morning, as Narcissa insists that she’s not fit to be seen by anyone until she’s eaten and dressed.

Lucius passes her as he leaves, and he smiles slightly at her. “Good morning, Hermione.”

“Good morning, Lucius.” Hermione pulls out two mugs. “Good morning Molly, Kreacher.” The house-elf just mumbles about disgrace and blood, and his mistress.

“Hermione.” Molly puts down the eggs she’s holding. “I… I’m sorry. Ron was terribly rude last night. I can’t speak for him, but I was- am concerned for you, that’s all. But you’re right. You’re an adult, and you must make your own decisions, good or bad.”

Hermione ignores the undertones, and accepts the apology at face-value. “Thank you, Molly. I hope you can get to know the Bellatrix that I know.”

Molly hums noncommittally, and Hermione takes the tea up to Bellatrix.

***

Andromeda Tonks swept her warm eyes over the room. When she’d been growing up, this had been a bedroom, but now it’s a classroom. She can only imagine how much her aunt and uncle would’ve hated to see this - a blood-traitor teaching a hodgepodge group of other blood-traitors, half-bloods, and muggleborns. It makes her smile. There are two square tables in the room. At one sit the two youngest Weasleys, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter.

Andromeda can still remember the day she’d picked up the paper, not long after she’d read of He Who Must Not Be Named’s defeat by a one year old, and seen the manic face of her elder sister, shaking against her chains and laughing. She’d read the article beneath, horrified at the details of what her sister and her comrades had inflicted upon the Longbottom family - torturing Alice and Frank for information they did not have into insanity, leaving their baby essentially an orphan.

Now, Andromeda is reunited with her sisters, years after she’d come to accept that her family was her past. Andromeda thanks her lucky stars that she hadn’t been born first and suffered mind-control that Bellatrix, and that she’d had the good fortune to fall in love with someone who wasn’t part of the insular pureblood society. Narcissa loved a man who was, and their parents guided them neatly into You Know Who’s dark embrace.

Cissy’s son is sitting in front of her, a spitting image of both his blonde parents, Lucius’s eyes staring out of Cissy’s sharp face. Her nephew is flanked by nearly as blonde, but much more unkempt, Luna Lovegood, a strange girl, but Andromeda is hesitant to dismiss her fancies outright, she doesn’t know why, and Hermione Granger.

Andromeda is interested most in Hermione Granger. She seems wise beyond her years, the mother of the group, always keeping others from getting in trouble, though from the stories Andromeda’s heard, that’s never really worked. Narcissa said she even punched Draco in the face once. The girl has balls.

Harry tilts his chair back to talk to the other table. Some days he sits with Hermione, Draco, and Luna, other days, he doesn’t.

Andromeda knows that these teens have been raised in completely different environments, though Harry and Hermione are the only ones raised without magic. From her discussions with her husband, Andromeda knows how hard a leap it can be to jump into the magical worlds, and how difficult it can be after Hogwarts to assimilate back into the muggle society of their families.

Draco leans across the table with a furrow in his brow, and he is so much like Narcissa in that moment that Andromeda’s heart jumps in her chest. “But who’s Hitler?”

Andromeda smirks as Harry scoffs in disbelief, and Hermione’s eyebrows migrate up her forehead. This is the problem with Hogwarts - the education is so limited, there is no way students can ever blend into the muggle world, and it only serves to keep the magical community apart, forcing muggleborns and half-bloods to choose, magic or muggle.

“He was a bit like You Know Who, I suppose. He ordered the murder of over six million Jews in the Second World War,” Hermione begins to explain, then seeing Draco’s befuddled look, she changed tack. “I’ve got a book about it in my trunk, I’ll lend it to you.”

“Of course you’ve got a book, ‘Mione. What don’t you have a book on?” Harry laughs, his chair clunking as he tilts back to his table and his work.

“That'd be great, Hermione. Thanks.” Draco goes back to his work, and Andromeda claps her hands a few minutes later.

“Good work today, everyone. I’d like a two foot essay on racism in muggle and magical society in two weeks please. And remember…” She pauses until everyone turns to look at her before she delivers her final message. “‘Opinions founded on prejudice are always sustained with the greatest of violence.’” Andromeda gives the group a smile, and turns dust off the blackboard and pack up her things from the desk.

“Who said that?”

Andromeda jumps. She’d heard the door close, and assumed she was alone in the room.

“Sorry,” Hermione says, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It’s alright, I just didn’t realise you were still here.” Andromeda puts down the duster, and perches against her desk. “A Scottish judge named Francis Jeffrey said that in the early nineteenth century. Ted told me that when I was sixteen, and I found it really touching.”

“Yeah, it’s a lovely quote.” Hermione shifts her books in her arms, and moves towards the door.

“Hermione!” Andromeda says, following her. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you since Christmas. It’s been over a week, how’s it going with Ron and Molly?”

“It’s not so bad. Molly apologised after boxing day.” Hermione sighs and puts her books down. “Ron hasn’t actually said anything, but he looks at me funny, and he doesn’t really talk to me.” Hermione slumps against the table, and Andromeda perches next to her, wrapping an arm around the younger witch’s shoulder.

“I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. How’s Bella doing?”

Hermione’s eyes light up a little, and the sight of young love burning within her makes Andromeda smile and remember the early days with Ted, when they snuck around Hogwarts together, before her family and before their daughter, and before the wars.

“She’s ok, I think. She’s been staying in her rooms much more, and she’s been rather grumpy. She’s much more sensitive than she puts out. To me though, she’s completely worth anything anyone says.”

Hermione has an astounding grasp on Bellatrix’s personality, Andromeda thinks. Not many people see past the sharp words so easily and see the softer side of her sister. “I’m glad she has you. I think you’ll be very good for each other. Now, I believe I said I would show you my form?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Hermione bounces with excitement, and Andromeda smiles at her then transforms.

She watches Hermione through her honey-badger eyes from her vantage point on the table. Hermione circles her, then pets her slowly, an amazed smile on her face. Andromeda transforms back with ease. “What do you think?”

“That was awesome!” Hermione gushes. “My patronus used to be in the same family, an otter. And Mr Tonks was in Hufflepuff, wasn’t he? Do you think that’s got anything to do with your form?”

“I don’t know, it might. Dora was a Hufflepuff too, but I like to think our Hogwarts Houses don’t rule our lives. Your patronus changed?” Andromeda asks sharply, picking up on the slipped detail.

Hermione nods, saying, “Yeah, I think it changes in the autumn, when I was getting close with Bella. Now it’s the same as my form, a snowy owl, like Hedwig.”

“That’s very interesting,” Andromeda ponders slowly, “very interesting indeed. I know a great many animagi, but you and Bella are the only birds.”

***

The next few weeks pass with nothing out of the ordinary until Valentine’s Day. In the morning, Hermione brings Bellatrix breakfast in bed, and introduces her to the joys of nutella. The black-haired witch eats nearly the whole jar. They spend the morning in bed, basking in the sunlight, reading and making out, and quietly talking.

It’s late in the afternoon when Sirius comes barging in.

“Bella, get dressed. Attack at the Bones’. We need you.” He’s gone before Hermione can process what he’s said, and Bellatrix is up, dashing to the wardrobe.

The clothes she chooses are practical - her battle armour. A black leather waistcoat and matching boots, a thick black skirt, and netted sleeves that she smoothly attaches to the waistcoat.

She dresses like she’s done this a thousand times, like it’s muscle memory, and Hermione supposes it is. She slides her wand into the holster on her arm, and on her way out she lingers at the door.

Hermione jumps off the bed and runs to her, boxing Bellatrix against the wall and kissing her desperately. “I love you. I love you, be careful, be brave. I love you, Bella,” Hermione says, the words pouring from her lips, and Bellatrix shuts her up with a firm kiss.

“I love you too. I’ll be fine,” says Bellatrix, stepping back and holding Hermione by the shoulders. She nods once, then sweeps out, heels clicking, skirt swishing.

Wrapping up in Bellarix’s dressing gown, Hermione follows, and she joins the huddle at the bottom of the stairs as Sirius, Bellatrix, and Lucius leave. The Death Eater’s must be attacking badly if Moody and Kingsley have called for the three fighters leaving grimmauld Place - all three technically wanted criminals, two ex-Death Eaters.

Like a ghost, Narcissa slips away, and Remus disappears into the attic. Slowly, the rest of the group disperses, leaving Hermione and Draco staring at the door.

“You’ve not done this before, have you?” Draco asks quietly. Hermione startles a little.

“What?”

Draco smiles sadly. “Watched someone you love go to fight.”

Hermione  shakes her head, pulling the dressing gown tight around her, but it is a poor imitation for Bellatrix’s embrace. “No. I’m usually the one fighting.”

“Come,” Draco takes her hand and pulls her down to the basement where Remus has set up a training room next to the space where he transforms each month. “The best thing to do is to stay busy. Don’t think about what they’re doing, what might be happening.

“I know she’s good, and ruthless, I know she can fight, but I don’t want her to,” Hermione snaps, flinging a Reductor Curse at the dueling dummy in front of her.

Silently, Draco repairs it. “And…”

“She hasn’t dueled properly since the curses were lifted.” Hermione reducto ’s the dummy again, and Draco repairs it again. “I’m scared that she won’t be in the right headspace.”

“And what headspace is that?” Draco probes, leaning casually against the wall behind her. He’s like the little angel on her shoulder. Or the little devil, Hermione doesn’t know which.

“The one where she does what needs to be done. She can, she’s capable, but if she overthinks it, she’ll try too hard not to hurt anyone, and she might get hurt herself!” The dummy lights up and explodes in a mess of fire and dummy limbs from Hermione’s Blasting Curse. “Fuck!”

Draco puts out the fire, and catches Hermione as she slumps to the floor, tears in her eyes. “I hate this, I hate feeling like this.”

“I know,” Draco whispers, sitting and holding her until her tears dry and she sits back.

“What do I do?”

“We’re going to train. Properly.” Draco stands up and pulls Hermione to her feet. They take dueling positions, and begin. They duel through dinner, until they are both exhausted.

Hermione gives Draco a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Draco pats her back and they part ways. Hermione grabs an apple from the kitchen and goes up to Bellatrix’s rooms to await her return.

It takes an hour of Hermione pacing, tidying, starting at the top of her page seven times, until she hears the front door opening, and a ruckus downstairs. It's past 9pm, and it’s dark out.

Breath catching in her throat, Hermione drops her book on the couch and hurtles herself down the stairs, skidding to a stop when she reaches the crowd. “Oh, thank god.”

Bellatrix is furthest away from her, standing by the door. Sirius is just in front of her, Tonks, Kingsley, Moody, and a few other faces Hermione doesn’t care to recognise also crowding up the hallway.

Molly Weasley is bustling around a shell-shocked Susan Bones, and Remus is gently guiding Amelia Bones into the kitchen. The group disperses, leaving a path clear from Hermione to Bellatrix.

Hermione’s heart leaps as she walks towards Bellatrix, speeding up down the hallway until she barrels into the older woman, wrapping her arms tight around her neck.

Caught off-guard, Bellatrix stumbles into the door, then steadies herself, holding Hermione tight against her body.

“I was so scared,” Hermione mumbles into Bellatrix’s neck. “I thought you’d been killed, or captured, or-”

“I’m fine, silly girl,” Bellatrix says, stopping Hermione's rambling. She smooths her hand over Hermione hair, then lifts her chin and captures her lips in a fierce and reassuring kiss. Hermione moans, arching into Bellatrix’s touch, and she lifts Hermione and spins, pressing her against the wall. Hermione wraps her legs around Bellatrix’s hips, the life-affirming feeling of Bellatrix clasped between her thighs, kissing her breathless makes her whine low in her throat.

“Oh, sorry, excuse me, sorry,” Tonks blurts, stumbling into a door frame then ricocheting into the wall. “Sorry. I was just… going.”

Bellatrix drops Hermione to her feet, and they step aside, letting the pick-haired Auror pass.

“You’ve got a bit of…” Tonks waves her hands abstractly at them, “blood.” Then she leaves.

Hermione steps back, and properly looks at Bellatrix. Tonks is right. Bellatrix’s black clothes hide most of the blood, but there’s a thick smear across the tops of her breasts and up along her throat. Even a section of her hair is wet and sticky.

Bellatrix holds out her hands, looking at them, and the dark red blood drying on them, then she lifts her gaze to Hermione. “It’s on you, too.”

Glancing down at where Bellatrix’s hand had been, Hermione sees red handprints. “Alright. Let’s go, um, have a bath, and get you out of these clothes.”

In Bellatrix’s large bath, Hermione runs a cloth over Bellatrix’s body, washing away the blood. “Where did it come from? The blood?” She asks tentatively.

Bellatrix chuckles darkly. “A few of my old comrades. It was my job to get the Bones girl out safely. So I did.”

“ Bella ,” sighs Hermione, pressing a kiss to Bellatrix’s pale shoulder.

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. I got the job done,” Bellatrix says harshly, misinterpreting Hermione’s sadness as pity.

“I know. You were protecting Susan-”

Bellatrix shrugs off Hermione’s touch and clambers out of the bath, wrenching a towel off the rack. Hermione follows her and takes the towel gently. “I can do it!” Bellatrix snaps.

“Just… let me,” Hermione wraps the towel around Bellatrix and dries her as one would a child. “Please?” Submitting, Bellatrix drops her arms. “You did good things today,” Hermione says with complete conviction.

“I didn’t. I don’t deserve you.” Bellatrix’s quiet voice is raspy with emotion.

“You didn’t go because you wanted to hurt people. You went because people needed help, and you helped.” Hermione leads her into the bedroom, and dresses Bellatrix, then herself in the comfiest pyjamas she can find. “Love isn’t about what we deserve. We all strive to be better for the people we love. Hermione brushes Bellatrix’s long hair slowly.

The older witch isn’t exactly fond of emotional outpourings, so Hermione keeps running the silver-backed brush through Bellatrix’s dark locks, gently detangingly the knots.

Bellatrix’s back bows, herhead dropping. “I killed people. Not with the Killing Curse. I killed them brutally. Yes, I was protecting the Bones girl, mais je voulais qu'ils meurent, je voulais les faire souffrir, les faire crier .”

Hermione’s brush strokes don’t stop. She doesn’t reply until she’s tying the end of Bellatrix’s damp braid with a ribbon. “‘Real war is the final limit of damnable brutality, and that’s all there is in it’,” she quotes softly, leaning down and wrapping her arms around Bellatrix’s shoulders. “Come to bed?”

Bellatrix nods a little, and they snuggle under the duvet, pulling it tight around their entwined bodies.

It’s the middle of the night when Hermione startles awake. She is momentarily confused when she sees the room, unfamiliar in the dark, then she hears Bellatrix whimper.

“Bella, wake up,” she shakes her shoulder, “Bella!” Hermione catches Bellatrix as she jerks upright in the bed, then a second later she collapses into Hermione’s tight hold. “I’ve got you, my love, it’s alright.”

Bellatrix’s hands grasp at Hermione’s t-shirt, scrabbling for a firm hold as Hermione rocks them slowly and whispers soothing words.

“I won’t hurt you, I wouldn’t ever, I couldn’t hurt you, Hermione please, I could never.”

It takes a  second for Hermione to process Bellatrix’s muttered insistences, but when she does, her heart breaks a little. Bellatrix is still muttering, a frantic desperation taking over her voice.

“I know, my beautiful, I know, of course I know. I love you, Bella, it’s okay, I’m here.” Hermione’s assurances seem to work as Bellatrix subsides a little, quieting, her hands settling.

“Don’t go?” Bellatrix sounds impossibly young and vulnerable.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

Eventually, Bellatrix succumbs to sleep, and soon after, so does Hermione, and they don’t wake until the sun breaks through the curtains.

A gentle knock draws Hermione to full consciousness, and she slips from Bellatrix’s slumbering hold. A tempus charm on the way through the living room tells her it’s 9.38am. She opens the door to Narcissa, fully dressed and made up, and looking, as usual, flawless.

“Good morning,” Narcissa says, handing Hermione a cup of tea. “Is she…?”

“She’s asleep,” Hermione takes a grateful sip of the comforting tea and hums. “She was a bit… shaken up.”

Narcissa nods, understanding written all over her elfin features. “Bella never has been good at the aftermath, the come down from battle. You might want to go downstairs, Molly’s having a fit about the bedroom arrangements now that the Bones’ are staying. I will stay with Bella.”

“Thanks. I’ll just-” Hermione waves a hand at her shabby sleep attire. Narcissa gives a gracious nod, sinking into an armchair.

Hermione dresses quickly, sipping her tea as she does, and tiptoeing so as not to wake Bellatrix. She has a few clothes stashed in Bellatrix’s room, she finds jeans and she steals one of Bellatrix’s secret cozy jumpers for comfort. It’s black, of course.

“I’ll fetch you when she wakes,” Narcissa promises, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder as she passes.

The kitchen is crowded and loud. All the teens are slumped in chairs as Sirius and Molly argue over them. Arthur and Remus are attempting to mediate, but they are struggling to get words in. Susan Bones is sitting at the far end on the table, dragging a spoon through a rapidly cooling bowl of porridge. Hermione sits next to her. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi,” Susan looks up, a little startled.

“What’s going on?”

Susan smiles awkwardly. “I don’t think they know where to put me and my aunt. From what I can gather, there are free rooms, but Mrs Weasley says it’s not fair that you girls have to share, and the Gryffindor boys have to share, while Malfoy and I get our own rooms. I don’t mind where I sleep. I’m just glad to be safe, and I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Hermione nudges Susan’s arm, saying, “you’re not causing trouble. Molly’s always like this, and Sirius likes to wind her up. He likes to wind everyone up.” Susan flashes her a grateful look, and Hermione meets Remus’s eyes. He sighs and tilts his face skyward.

“Molly, they’ll live! School dorms have way more people in together!” Sirius is arguing with a smirk on his lips, and it seems to be infuriating Molly, who throws her hands up.

“They’re not at school, Sirius!”

“I think I have a solution.” Neither Sirius nor Molly hears her at first.

“Shut up!” Remus snaps, pulling Sirius back a little. “Hermione has an idea.”

Sirius and Molly both look to her, expectant. “Well, there are six rooms over two floors. There is a classroom on the second floor. So two bedrooms there - put Neville and Ron in one, Harry and Draco in the other.” The boys all nod a little in agreement, so she continues. “Leave Ginny and Luna where they are, Susan and I can share the second room, and Madam Bones has the third. That’s max two people per room, everyone’s happy.”

Molly takes a deep breath. “But-” She begins, but Remus interrupts.

“Everyone is happy,” he says firmly. “Come on, let’s get this sorted.” He chivvies Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco upstairs.

“Have you been shown around yet?” Hermione asks Susan, who shakes her head. “I’ll give you the tour then.” She guides Susan through the house, showing her the training room in the basement, past all the bedrooms  that are being reorganised, and up to the top floor.

If Susan notices Hermione’s pause outside Bellatrix’s door, she doesn’t say anything, though Hermione suspects she is perceptive. Their last stop is the library, then Susan follows Hermione down to the room she’s been sharing with Ginny and Luna so she can pack her things and shift them to the vacated room she’ll share with Susan.

“So… what’s it like living here? With everyone?” Susan asks, perching on the bed as Hermione moves around the room.

“It’s good. There can be some tension. Molly and Sirius rile each other up. Ron doesn’t get on very well with Bellatrix and the Malfoys, but he keeps it to himself mostly.” Hermione tries to sound reassuring. Susan’s life has been uprooted with this latest Death Eater attack on her home, and Hermione wants her to be comfortable at Grimmauld Place, a house that has become a haven for runaways and misfits.

“And you do, get on well with them?” Susan probes softly.

The bed creaks as Hermione sits down, placing the clothes she was folding in her trunk. “I do. Look, I’ve been seeing Bellatrix. Romantically.” Susan stays quiet, letting Hermione keep talking. “I hope you’re okay with that, we’ll be sharing a room. So it’s my fault that there’s a curfew - we’re not allowed in anyone else’s room after eleven.” Hermione gives a self-deprecating laugh, and Susan smiles.

“She saved my life yesterday. I don’t know the story, and I don’t need to, but she and Malfoy’s dad both saved my life.” Susan stands up. “You want some help with that?”

“Thanks,” Hermione nods, and together they finish packing all of Hermione’s stuff and carry the trunk down the hall into their new shared room. There’s a king single bed against each wall, clearly Sirius’s work, a shared wardrobe, and bedside tables each with a desk in between. A door through to their ensuite, which houses a toilet, a basin, and a small shower cubicle, same as the other rooms.

“If you need anything, just ask. I know you didn’t have much time to get your things,” Hermione says, gesturing to Susan’s backpack on her bed.

Before Susan can answer, Narcissa appears in the doorway. “Good morning, Miss Bones. Hermione, she’s awake.”

“Ok, I’ll come up now.” Hermione leaves the clothes she’s holding on the bed.

“Madam Malfoy. I’d really like to thank your husband for helping us yesterday,” Susan says as Hermione passes Narcissa at the door, and she sees the soft smile the words cause on Narcissa’s face.

“Of course. I will speak to him and we will find you this afternoon.” Narcissa gives a courteous nod and follows Hermione upstairs. The blonde sees Hermione in to Bellatrix’s room, then silently withdraws, leaving them alone.

Bellatrix rushes Hermione as soon as she sees her, bodies thudding together in a tight embrace. After a long, desperate hug, Bellatrix starts walking Hermione backwards until she hits the wall.

“That’s my jumper, little thief,” Bellatrix whispers, nibbling on Hermione’s neck.

Hermione sighs, her arms coming up to cradle Bellatrix’s body against her own. “I wanted part of you with me.”

“Part of me is always with you, sweet girl.”

“Bellatrix Black, you romantic!” Hermione laughs, kissing Bellatrix chastely on the lips then slipping out from her caged arms. “Come and sit with me.” Hermione jumps onto the bed and flops against the many pillows, holding her hand out to Bellatrix, who walks over and takes it, handing Hermione her book.

“Read to me?” Bellatrix asks. Hermione looks into her dark, troubled eyes, red-rimmed. There are purple bags beneath them, and dark curls have escaped her braid, framing her pale face.

“Of course.” Hermione takes the book, inspecting the cover briefly. It’s Bathilda Bagshot’s Hogwarts: A History. Hermione sits up straighter, and Bellatrix lays her head on Hermione’s thighs, her body extended parallel with the pillows. Hermione rests a hand on Bellatrix’s pyjama-clad hip, opens the book, and starts reading.

Chapter Text

On the twenty-fourth of March, Hermione  Granger wakes up extra early. Susan is sleeping peacefully, so she creeps out quietly, still in her pyjamas, gift in hand. It’s Bellatrix’s birthday, the third in the month after Ron and Remus, and Hermione is planning on making her feel extra special. Both of Bellatrix’s sisters, and Sirius had come to Hermione to tell her when Bellatrix’s birthday was, so she’d owl-ordered a gift with Tonks’s help, because owls couldn’t deliver to Grimmauld Place, due to the Fidelius Charm.

Waiting for her tea to brew, Hermione glances out the window. The sun is only just beginning to emerge over the rooftops of London, the sky grey and cloudy. She picks up the mugs, tucking the gift beneath her arm and hurries upstairs to Bellarix’s room. It takes a bit of juggling, and some precarious mug-holding, before she manages to get the door open, but she does, and she tiptoes through the living room and into Bellatrix’s bedroom.

Unsurprisingly, Bellatrix is asleep. She’s not what anyone would call a morning person, unlike Hermione, who would be perfectly happy to wake up at the crack of dawn most days.

Hermione places the mugs on the bedside table, then puts the gift next to them. A quick stasis charm ensures the tea will stay warm and Hermione slides under the covers behind Bellatrix, who purrs at Hermione’s touch and presses back into her. Burying her face in Bellatrix’s cinnamon-scented curls, Hermione dozes with her until the house begins to wake.

“Mmm,” Bellatrix hums, twisting in Hermione’s embrace to they’re face to face.

Surging forward, Hermione kisses Bellatrix deeply, one leg hooking over Bellatrix’s shin and drawing her thigh between Hermione’s. Bellatrix moans at Hermione’s advances, one hand searching for the hem on Hermione’s pyjama top. Hermione deftly rolls Bellatrix on her back, straddling her hips.

Bellatrix’s body is taut under Hermione’s hands as she runs her hands up her stomach, and with them she pulls Bellatrix’s black silk chemise off smoothly and tosses it off to the side. Hermione yanks off her own top and bends down to kiss Bellatrix, her hands grazing Bellatrix’s breasts. The black-haired witch arches up into Hermione’s touch with a gasp.

Smirking against Bellatrix’s skin, Hermione slithers down her body, kissing, licking, and nipping as she goes. She reaches the crux of Bellatrix’s thighs and takes a moment to look up at her face. Hermione strokes her fingers through Bellatrix’s wetness and watches at her berry-coloured lips open in a sharp gasp, her head tilting back, her chest lifting up as she arches. Her wild black curls are arrayed over the pillow and around her shoulders, a few grey streaks only serving to intensify the dark colour of her hair. Her stygian eyes are half-lidded, burning with desire as she meets Hermione’s heady gaze.

Hermione kisses Bellatrix’s milky thighs, then presses her lips against Bellatrix’s centre, sucking and licking as Bellatrix moans her name, a hand tangling in Hermione’s hair. Mirroring Bellatrix’s thrusts, Hermione’s hips rock helplessly against the mattress.

Giving in to Bellatrix’s pleas with a smooth thrust, Hermione’s two fingers glide into Bellatrix’s center, and she whines low in her chest. Bellatrix is writhing now, whining and pressing her centre against Hermione’s mouth. When she comes, it’s with a long groan, and a buck on her hips. She clenches down on Hermione’s fingers, and Hermione brings her through the aftershocks gently until she withdraws her fingers, and presses a final kiss to Bellatrix’s left thigh. Bellatrix moans at the loss, and her hands pull Hermione up.

“Oh,” Hermione whimpers as Bellatrix slides her thigh between her legs, her nimble fingers plucking and twisting her nipples. Her other hand slides to Hermione’s clit, rubbing it as Hermione gyrates against her thigh. Bellatrix rises to hold Hermione against her body, her mouth under Hermione’s ear, interspersing her kisses with dirty whispers.

“I want you to come for me, come on my thigh, can you do that, sweet girl?” Bellatrix asks with a husky murmur.

Hermione answers with a whine. “Yes, Bella, please, please.”

“Come for me, Hermione, come, my love,” Bellatrix encourages firmly, and Hermione’s pleasure shatters, an explosion in her core setting her nerve endings alight as she drives her hips down against Bellatrix and cries out her name.

Bellatrix cradles Hermione close and, together, they fall onto the pillows, rolling so they’re both lying on their sides, limbs tangled. Bellatrix laughs, eyes dancing, “What was that for, sweet girl?” She tucks Hermione’s hair behind her ear tenderly, and Hermione tilts her face into her touch.

Hermione grins mischievously, and says, “I just wanted to treat the birthday girl. And you’re so beautiful when you’re just waking up.”

Bellatrix pulls back a little, puzzlement all over her flushed face. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“Andromeda told me. Then Sirius told me, then Narcissa told me. Then Andromeda reminded me.” Hermione snuggles into Bellatrix, and kisses her. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

“I.. um,” Bellatrix stutters, and Hermione lifts a hand to her cheek briefly.

“I’ve got a present for you. And tea.” She  reaches over and hands Bellatrix the small gift, then picks up her mug and takes a sip.

Bellatrix takes the present haltingly, her eyes flicking up to Hermione’s face in disbelief. “No one’s given me a birthday present since I was turned seventeen except for Cissy.” Her onyx eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, Bella,” Hermione tumbed away the tears as they fell. “I’m going to give you a present for each and every birthday. And Christmas. Whatever you want to celebrate, I’ll give you a present for it. Oh, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” Bellatrix denies, turning her attention to the wrapped gift, pulling off the ribbon and ripping open the silver paper. She opens it with the joy of a child, and it simultaneously warms Hermione’s heart to see her joy, and breaks it to know that she should’ve felt this all her life. Bellatrix reveals a collection of books, specially bound, covers embossed with silver lettering.

Slowly, Bellatrix inspects each book, brow furrowing slightly, Hermione feels the happiness of the moment bubble up in her chest, expanding and forcing giggles out of her. Bellatrix gives her a strange, ever so slightly offended look.

Hermione strokes Bellatrix’s cheek. “I’m not laughing at you. This moment is just so perfect, I love you so much I can’t contain it.”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes, the softness around the edge of her mouth gives her away, and she presses her body closer to Hermione. “So who are these people then?”

“My favourite muggle novelists. Forster, Tolstoy, Austen, the Brontë sisters. You’re always reading over my shoulder, so I thought I would get you your own collection of classics.”

“Classics?” Bellatrix asks, puzzled.

“It's just a name for books that have stayed good over the years.”

“Ah,” Bellatrix sets the books aside carefully. “Thank you.” She pushes Hermione down and looms over her, and Hermione moans, lifting her hips to Bellatrix.

“Bella,” Hermione sighs, roaming her hands over Bellatrix’s pale skin, settling on her hips to pull her closer, arching her head up to meet Bellatrix in a desperate kiss.

Giving in to her body, aching for Bellatrix’s touch, Hermione wriggles until she can slide her thigh up to Bellatrix’s centre, watching with satisfaction as Bellatrix gasps at the unexpected sensation and drives her hips down. Hermione matches her thrusts, pressing herself up against Bellatrix’s thigh.

Bellatrix is kissing her, arms bracketing Hermione’s head to keep her whole weight off the younger witch, and Hermione’s world narrows to just Bellatrix, everything blocked out by Bellatrix’s curls. Hermione can feel her climax rising in her, sweet and consuming as it crests and rolls through her body like a wave. Distantly, she feels Bellaxtrix coming too, and she keeps her thigh pressed up until Bellatrix jerks away, and flops next to her. Hermione’s body feels heavy and satisfied as she burrows into Bellatrix.

The content snuggling doesn’t last long as an ear-piercing shriek rips through the house. Bellatrix tosses Hermione to her feet, and she grabs her wand, wrenching on the first clothes she can find. Bellatrix is doing the same thing, and she ends up in her chemise with Hermione’s pyjama pants underneath and Hermione has on her pyjama top and a pair of shorts from Bellatrix’s drawer that she is closest to as they tumble into the hall and down the stairs, joining the other inhabitants of the house as they race downstairs.

Hermione cranes over shoulders to see what’s happening as the screams become clearer, and horror registers on Bellatrix’s face.

“HELP, HELP HIM, PLEASE, TED , TED , HELP ME, PLEASE, CISSY!”

Roughly, Bellatrix shoves through and Hermione follows until they come to the hearth, Narcissa right behind her.

Andromeda is kneeling in a bloody nightdress, clutching her husband's pale and bloody body as she screams. Narcissa throws herself to her knees next to Ted, whipping out her wand.

“Cissy, fix him, please,” Andromeda sobs and Narcissa nods. If she had a career, it would’ve been as a healer, and she’d kept up to date on most medical developments in the magical world after training in the Hogwarts Infirmary. SHe’d also spent the majority of the first war taking care of Bellatrix and Lucius as they returned from battles. As it was, she was the best option they had right now, given that Ted himself was the only other person with medical training. Narcissa begins with a diagnostic spell, but it only reveals the obvious - Ted has multiple knife-like wounds, large gashes across his body.

Behind her, Hermione hears people gasping as they realise what is happening. Andromeda crying in huge, breathless sobs, her hands fluttering all over Ted.

“Bella, get her out of my way,” says Narcissa sharply, “Sirius, I need dittany, murtlap, blood replenishers. Remus, Lucius, help me. Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur .” She traces her wand over the deepest wound, Remus and Lucius kneeling beside her and doing the same. Clearly all three have practice doing this.

Sirius nods and takes off. Bellatrix, wrestling with Andromeda to get her out of the way, shouts after him, “and get me a calming draught!” Hermione steps forwards and takes one of Andromeda’s arms, and together, she and Bellatrix manage to drag her over to a chair and sit her down.

“Everyone who’s not helping, get out.” Narcissa orders, and the room empties as Sirius comes back in, placing Narcissa’s requests on the floor next to her.

Andromeda is howling, fighting to get back to Ted’s side until Bellatrix takes the calming draught from Sirius and shoves the bottle between Andromeda's teeth, using the advantage of surprise to tip the contents down her throat. Andromeda chokes a little, on the potion and her tears, so Sirius thumps her on the back, and after a few minutes she relaxes a little into Bellatrix’s grip. Hermione steps back to leave but Bellatrix snatches at her hand, holding tight and keeping her close. Hermione lets her other hand fall on Bellatrix’s shoulder, heavy and comforting.

Slowly, Lucius levitates Ted onto a stretcher and Narcissa guides it out of the room, and Remus shows them into the classroom upstairs. He’ll transfigure the desks into a bed, and the classroom will be reinstated elsewhere, shifted again as the house fills up even more.

“Andy, what happened?” Sirius asks, his voice deep and calm, kneeling down in front of his cousin.

Andromeda hiccups pitifully, and Hermione presses a conjured handkerchief into her hand. Andromeda takes a deep breath. “The Death Eaters came. We were in bed, and I felt them tear down our wards. They came in so quickly. Ted was so stupid , he pushed me behind him, and they attacked him. I’m better at dueling, but he-” Andromeda twists up to meet Bellatrix’s eyes. “Rabastan had command. He stopped them from killing us and said it was a message to you, a birthday gift that You Know Who spared us.”

Under her hand, Hermione feels Bellatrix freeze, her muscles coiling like an animal in headlights.

“I- I-” she stutters, starting to shake a little, then suddenly, she tears herself from Hermione’s hands, rushing out of the kitchen.

Fresh tears leak from Andromeda’s eyes as she starts to cry softly, collapsing down onto Sirius’s shoulder, and he waves at her to go after Bellatrix. Hermione gives him a grateful smile as she runs after her girlfriend.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Hermione runs to the top floor. Bellatrix isn’t in her rooms, nor is she in the library. Hermione checks the attic on the off chance she’s in there, but she isn’t. “Bella,” Hermione sighs to herself, sitting on the top stair, “where are you?”

A thought flashes through Hermione’s brain. The last time Bellatrix had been this upset, she’d been in the garden. Hermione’s up and running down, down before she fully realises what she’s doing. Since she’d been down here last August with Narcissa, the blonde had stayed true to her word, and now the garden was restored to its former glory. Tall trees lined the fence, shrubbery creating a hedge through which the tree trunks grew. The grass was fresh and green, creating a path through the various ordered and well-maintained flowerbeds.

Hermione walks down to the bottom of the garden, following the slope until she reaches the huge oak tree in the centre along the fence. Looking up, she can’t see Bellatrix, but an unexplainable feeling in her gut makes her certain that Bellatrix is here. “Bella? Will you come and talk to me?”

There is no answer, not even a rustle in the trees, so she sits down on the grass, preparing it with an impervius charm, a cushioning charm, and a warming charm that creates a cosy bubble around her, prepared to wait until Bellatrix is ready to open up to her. She doesn’t have anything to read, or anything to do, so she just sits and gazes, allowing herself to properly think, letting her thoughts roam freely.

When she’s musing on the technicalities and limits of transfiguration, and practicing idly on blades of grass, Remus drops down next to her and hands her a steaming cup of tea.

“I thought you’d like this.”

“Thanks,” Hermione takes a grateful sip, “how’s Ted?”

“He’ll be fine, a few scars and maybe a little traumatised, but otherwise fine,” Remus reassures. “Narcissa is very skilled, she could’ve had a brilliant career, I think, but sometimes things out of our control prevent that.” Remus shakes off the self-pity and smiles.

“I’m glad Ted’s going to be okay, and Andromeda?”

“Ah, hard to say until the calming draught wears off completely. I rather think she’ll  be more traumatised than Ted. It was quite a shock for her. Though she calmed down once Sirius took her up to see Ted. She’s stronger than she appears, I’m sure she’ll be just fine,” Remus says, allaying what he could of Hermione’s worries.

Hermione takes another sip of her tea, savouring the hot liquid warming her from the inside. “Thank you, Remus, she says earnestly, and he squeezes her upper arm softly.

“No problem, Hermione. What exactly are you doing out here? You’ve been here for hours, and you haven’t really been doing anything.”

“I’m waiting for Bella,” Hermione answers succinctly, giving a knowing nod and smile.

“Blacks. Sirius is much the same, ruled by his emotions. You remember, the first time you met him, in the Shrieking Shack. For as long as we were friends, he would’ve killed Peter if I hadn’t stopped him.” Remus takes a breath, deep and slow. “What I mean to say is that Sirius and Bellatrix, they like stars, burning, bright flames, and they need something to quench them. You and I, I think we do that.”

Emotion wells up in her chest at his words, and she puts her arm around his waist in a half-hug. “That was beautifully said, Remus. You’re right. I want Bella to know I care. I know she’s here, she knows I’m here, and I’m not going until she comes down. I’m not giving up on her.” Hermione glances up at the treetops, aware that Bellatrix can hear her conversation, half speaking to Remus, and half to Bellatrix.

“That’s admirable, Hermione. I knew when I met you when you were thirteen that you would grow into a powerful and kind witch. Even then, you possessed such clear intuition. Bellatrix is very lucky to have you.”

Heat burns across Hermione’s cheek. “I’m just as lucky to have her. She may be ruled by her emotions, but that only makes her passionate, and funny, and brilliant.”

Remus chuckles and stands up. “You two are unexpected, but incredibly well suited to each other.” He leaves her alone in the garden.

“See, Bella? Ted and Andromeda are going to be fine, and no-one blames you for anything.” There’s still no response.

The quiet doesn’t last for long.

Ron tosses himself in the grass next to Hermione, leaning back on his elbows. “I heard what happened with the Tonkses. What are you doing out here? It’s bloody freezing!” He is speaking in a warm tone that Hermione hasn’t heard from him in months.

With a loud squawk, Hermione sees Bellatrix fly down from the hidden tops of the oak tree and land just out of Hermione’s arms reach, though she feels her body tilt towards the jackdaw. This close, Hermione can see the sporadic black feathers on the bird’s wings, and the sharp black eyes. Bellatrix had told her once that sometimes you could tell an animagus because of their unnatural markings, like Minerva McGonagall’s spectacle markings, and her own black eyes, where normal jackdaws have grey.

Hermione flashes a soft smile at Bellatrix, then half turns back to Ron, keeping the jackdaw in the corner of her eye. “I’m waiting for Bellatrix-”

“Oh, yeah, someone said she’d run away. Wasn’t it her husband who attacked Ted Tonks?” Ron interrupts blithely, and Hermione bristles a little.

“No. Rabastan Lestrange led the attack. Bellatrix was married to his older brother, Rodolphus. He’s dead. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who stunned him when we were getting Harry out of Privet Drive-”

“Ha!” Ron interrupts again. “But why are you in the garden, she’s not here, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, and Hermione takes a calming breath.

“Yes, she’s- She knows I’m here. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

Ron gives her a shocked look. “Well, making you sit in the cold isn’t-”

“It’s cold because you haven’t cast a warming charm, Ronald,” Hermione snaps, finally fed up with him.

Ron stands up, looking down at her. “If you’re expecting Bellatrix Black to come to you like a dog, I think you’re wrong. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Bellatrix ruffles her wings in anger, but she still doesn't transform. “She keeps to herself because she doesn’t want to sit through meals with you glaring like she would put you off your food.” Ron goes to speak, but Hermione holds up a hand and gets to her feet. “I don’t expect anything from her. I am choosing to sit out here because I love her, and her sister was attacked in her home this morning, and she’s upset!”

“She doesn’t love you enough to turn up though,” says Ron scathingly, “She’s probably gone back to You Know Who.” Before Hermione can fully understand what’s happening, Bellatrix transforms and lunges at Ron, swinging a strong right hook into his jaw and nose, the Black signet ring on her pinky finger leaving a cut on his cheek. He grunts and stumbles back, falling over, and Hermione takes the opportunity to grab Bellatrix around the waist, pulling away before she can hit him again. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione sees a few people emerging on the back step - Remus, Molly, and Susan at the front, more behind them who Hermione can’t see.

Bellatrix strains at Hermione’s grip, growling at the redhead on the ground. “Don’t you dare tell my girlfriend how much I love her. You have no idea of the meaning of love.” Bellatrix’s voice is low and threatening, and hermione sees a spark of fear in Ron’s eyes as he scrambles to his feet, the spring sun shining on the blood streaming from his nose.

“And you do?” Ron mutters as he slopes off. Bellatrix snarls at his retreating back as the group in the doorway folds him into the house and disappears. Hermione keeps Bellatrix’s arms pinned to her body, slowly pulling her down so they're sitting on Hermione’s charmed patch of grass.

With a huff, Bellatrix shrugs Hermione's arms off roughly, shuffling out of her reach and leaving a patch of grass between them.

“Bella?” Hermione probes softly, but the other witch turns away, eyes lost in the distance, hair partially blocking her face from hermione’s view, and Hermione feels it like a stab in the gut. “Bella, look at me, please.”

“Go inside,” Bellatrix says shortly, but Hermione can still hear the emotional pain in her voice, the anguish.

Moving closer slowly, Hermione kneels next to Bellatrix who keeps her face resolutely turned away. Hermione brushes her thumb along Bellatrix’s cheek and pushes her curls back over her shoulder. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” She takes Bellatrix’s face gently between her two hands, and Bellatrix doesn’t resist as Hermione guides their lips together in a feather-light kiss. “I’m here for you. Tell me ,” she implores, cradling Bellatrix’s face gently as a small tear slips from her obsidian eyes.

“ C'est de ma faute. Andromeda était presque veuve aujourd'hui, à cause de moi, ” Bellatrix says, her voice cracking with pain. “ Weasley a raison. Je ne sais pas comment prendre soin des gens, comment les aimer! Si je l'avais fait, cela ne serait pas arrivé, je l'aurais protégée. C'est ma petite sœur! Je dis que je l'aime et je la laisse attaquer dans son propre lit, je dis que je t'aime et je te fais asseoir ici toute la matinée. J'aurais pu venir, je savais que tu étais ici au moment où tu es sorti, mais je ne l'ai pas fait. Comment est cet amour? ” She moans, ripping her face away from Hermione, tears dripping down her porcelain cheeks, but before she can go anywhere, Hermione envelops her in her arms.

“If you insist on being as dense as Ron, I’ll tell you the same thing. No one forced me to wait out here. I chose to do it. I chose to keep you company until you decided you were ready to talk to me. I wanted to, because I love you, Bellatrix Black. I love you when you’re sad, or angry, or happy. I love you when you’re a smartass, or when you're funny. I love you when you’re you ,” Hermione says forcefully, as if the more effort she puts behind the words, the more likely Bellatrix is to believe them.

“I-”

“No. Shush. I’m not finished. It wasn’t your fault . You Know Who is the one who sanctioned the attack, Rabastan Lestrange led it. You had no idea that was going to happen. Andromeda and Ted knew what they were getting into when they got involved with the Order. They’re not stupid, they knew there was going to be danger, moreso because to their past, but you are not responsible for everything, my love. Your little sister is a grown woman.” Hermione hugs Bellatrix even tighter. “You chose to come with me at the Creevey’s last summer. You made a brave decision, and there will be consequences, but you can face them, we all can, because we support each other.”

Bellatrix snuggles into Hermione's embrace. “I love you too. Lupin was right. You know exactly what to say to me. You’re too good for me, sweet girl.”

“Rubbish,” Hermione says brusquely, pulling Bellatrix to her feet. “Come on. Lets go inside. You’re still in your pyjamas. We can pop in on Andromeda and Ted, too.”

Bellatrix stops dead, she seems to shrink in on herself, looking up at her slightly taller girlfriend with a childlike vulnerability and fear shining in her dark eyes. “What if she’s angry at me? What is she blames me?” she asks quietly.

Hermione takes the few steps back to where Bellatrix is standing and takes her hands. “Darling Bella, she’s your sister. Trust me, we’ll go together.”

“You’re such a bloody Gryffindor,” Bellatrix grumbles, but she lets Hermione pull into the house and up the stairs to the room Andromeda and Ted have been set up in that usually serves as the classroom.

“I heard that.”

“You wouldn’t have if I didn’t want you to.”

“Slytherin.”

“Damn right, pretty girl.” Bellatrix laughs a little, and the banter fades away as they stop outside the room. The door is only slightly ajar, soft voice coming from within. Hermione takes the lead, knocking, sensing Bellatrix’s trepidation.

“Come in,” calls Andromeda’s warm voice, and Hermione pushes the door open, pulling Bellatrix in behind her by the hand.

The room, once occupied with tables, chairs, desks, and blackboards, is now filled with a four-poster bed, the same as is in Bellatrix’s room. Ted, pale but as affable as usual, is propped up and supported by a multitude of feather pillows. Andromeda is sitting opposite him, leaning against one of the posts of the bed, her legs running alongside Ted’s, and one of his hands retss softly on her ankle. On her lap, Andromeda has an open book, which she bookmarks and sets aside when she sees Bellatrix.

Hermione smiles, but Bellatrix freezes behind her, her hand clenching around Hermione’s, the other hand gripping Hermione’s wrist.

“Are… are you okay?” Bellatrix asks hoarsely, and Hermione sees her wince at what she perceives as an inadequate question.

“I’ll be up and about in no time,” Ted offers a grin, and Hermione returns it. Bellatrix’s lips tilt into the smallest smile.

“That’s… good.” Bellatrix keeps Hermione’s hand in her own as she approaches her sister. “And.. you, Andy?”

Andromeda smiles reassuringly up at her uncharacteristically nervous sister and takes her hand. “I’m alright Bella. I’m sorry I scared you. It was a shock, and I wasn’t sure Ted would…”

“We’re alright though, love,” Ted says, patting Andromeda’s ankle, and she gazes at him tenderly.

“We’re alright,” she repeats.

“Okay. Well. We just wanted to check on you…” Bellatrix trails off, then she  abruptly turns and leaves.

Hermione watches as the door flutters in the breeze created by Bellatrix sweeping past. “She was quite upset,” Hermione offers as a reason for Bellatrix’s odd behaviour.

Andromeda laughs. “I know what Bella can be like, don’t worry. She can be prone to… negativity, shall we say, and she needs someone to pull her out of her thoughts.”

“Remus said something similar.” Hermione was learning a lot about how other people viewed Bellatrix today.

“Yes, Bella and Sirius both inherited the true Black temperament-”

“Are you coming?” Bellatrix demands, poking her head back round the door, and Hermione see’s the expression she’s sure is on her face on Andromeda’s. Caught in the act and hoping Bellatrix hadn't been eavesdropping.

Hermione waves at Andromeda and Ted as she walks out, saying, “Sure, Bella. I'm coming now.”

“You’re both still in your pyjamas!” Andromeda says after them. “And you seem to have got mixed up when you were dressing!”

“Bugger off, Andy!” Bellatrix yells back, pulling Hermione upstairs and into her bedroom.

Wordlessly, they undress and slip into the shower, washing off the mornings activities. Hermione washes Bellatrix’s hair deeply, and Bellatrix does her the same favour, though her hands start to wander down Hermione’s body.

The brunette moans and leans back into Bellatrix’s body as her hair is swept over one shoulder so Bellatrix can access her neck, kissing and sucking, one hand playing with Hermione’s breasts, the other hand slipping between Hermione’s legs, quickly finding her sweet spot.

“Bella, please,” Hermione begs rolling her hips against Bella’s fingers. She lfist one hand up to hold Bellatrix’s head, turning her own head to meet Bellatrix’s lip in a passionate kiss.

The black-ahired witch acquiesces to her request, pressing harder, circling faster until Hermione comes with a gasp, her weight falling back into Bellatrix, who kisses her sweetly until she stops trembling.

Hermione pulls away and turns, pushing Bellatrix back until she hits the tiled shower wall, and giving her a heated look, she drops to her knees, sucking Bellatrix’s nub between her lips, two fingers sliding into her as she works her quickly up to her peak.

Bellatrix climaxes with a hard grunt, her hand knotted in Hermione’s wet hair, holding her close until the sensation becomes too much and she pulls her to her feet.

“I love you, Bella,” Hermione whispers, trailing her fingers over Bellatrix’s face, around her dark eyes, along her aristocratic cheekbones, down her aquiline nose.

“I love you,” Bellatrix whispers back as she draws Hermione into a kiss under the showerhead.

They finish showering without any more distractions, and dress, this time completely in their own clothes, and Bellatrix picks a book at random from her birthday gift to read to Hermione.

A knock raps against the door, and before either Hermione or Bellatrix can answer it, Narcissa strides in, dressed in impeccable robes, unlike her nightdress and silk dressing gown from the morning.

“What?” Bellatrix asks rudely, and Hermione pokes her ribs in reprimand. Bellatrix rolls her eyes.

Narcissa gives a little sigh, with the air of a long-suffering younger sister. “I’m to tell you two things. Andromeda and Ted are staying on the second floor, they say they’re happy in that room, so the classroom is being moved up to the attic, Hermione,” Narcissa addresses Hermione, who gives her a grateful look for telling her the news. “And Bella, Sirius wants you downstairs.”

“My ickle cousin is summoning me? Ha, he can come to me, even his knut-sized brain knows where I am!” Bellatrix responds combatively, and Hermione’s sigh is reminiscent of Narcissa’s, and the two share a look of exasperation.

“Sweet Circe, Bella, why must you be so obstinate?” Bellatrix opens her mouth to respond, but Narcissa holds up a long-fingered and baby-soft hand. “No. That was rhetorical, as I’m sure you know,” she says, and Bellatrix visibly deflates, the wind taken out of her sails.

Before Bellatrix can build up her momentum again and start a juvenile argument with her sister, something Hermione had witnessed more times than she had cared to, the younger witch speaks up, taking Bellatrix by the hand. “Come on, Bella. I’m sure whatever Sirius has to say will be very interesting if he sees fit to drag you all the way downstairs.” Hermione’s tone rings fairly with sarcasm, but Bellatrix doesn’t pick up on it, too busy scrutinising her sister, who flashes Hermione a look.

“She’s up to something, devious witch,” Bellatrix snarls at Narcissa, who is unfazed, and allows Bellatrix to pass, stomping down the stairs.

“You’re very good at handling her,” Narcissa compliments Hermione as they follow Bellatrix down the stairs.

Hermione gives the blonde a tight smile. “Yes, but why do I feel like she’s right, and you’re up to something?” she counters, and Narcissa inclines her head graciously. They both know how many things the Black sisters say in looks and undertones rather than words.

“Did the Sorting Hat consider placing you in Slytherin? Or are you spending too much time with Bellatrix and my own dear son?” Narcissa artfully avoids Hermione’s question and shifts the conversation.

Hermione glances at her. “I was nearly a hatstall actually. But not Slytherin. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

“Hmmm,” Narcissa is evaluating Hermione, thinking before she next speaks. “It’s when I meet people like you that I wonder about the sense in forcing divides in our youth, splitting them into factions according to arbitrary, historical values. You are brave, loyal, ambitious, and intelligent, I do believe you would have flourished in any house.”

“Thank you. I remember when I first read Hogwarts: A History, the summer before my first year, and it could never have prepared me for how deep and aggressive the house system is. In some ways, we are paying for that system now, with You Know Who and this war,” Hermione says sadly.

Narcissa rests a gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder, a deep sorrow in her blue eyes. “We are.” A heavy moment sits between them until Narcissa shakes it off. “Bella, in the kitchen,” she calls, and Bellatrix throws the kitchen door open dramatically.

A chorus of cheers erupts from the room, Bellatrix’s voice loudest of all, screaming, “FUCK! YOU BASTARD!” She leaps back into Hermione, and they crash into the hallway wall, Bellatrix raising her wand instinctively as Hermione’s hands come up to catch her.

Narcissa is standing just to her left, and when Hermione meets her eyes, dancing with mirth, she smirks. “I knew it.” Hermione mutters.

“You did,” Narcissa confirms, “surprise party.” She glides into the room to Lucius’s side, and his face is equally smug at the fright they’d given Bellatrix as he wraps his arms around his wife’s waist.

“Bloody bitch,” Bellatrix grumbles, “I’m going to kill Sirius.”

Hermione squeezes her. “No, you’re not, Bella. Come on, I see cake,” she says, pushing Bellatrix in front of her, into the kitchen. Sirius, Remus, the Malfoys, and the Tonkses are at the front of the group, Sirius jiggling from foot to foot with the pleasure of having successfully frightened Bellatrix, and Remus looks slightly apologetic. Ted is settled in an armchair, Andromeda sitting on the arm, one arm over her husband’s shoulders.

The Weasleys and the Bones’ are also there, most of them smiling. Ron is the only member of the household who is conspicuously absent, when even Fred, George, Bill and Fleur, and Charlie have managed to attend. The twins are grinning next to a box of their indoor fireworks.

Draco is standing with Susan Bones, close enough that Hermione takes note to ask one of them about it at some point. Luna is serenely holding out a copy of the Quibbler, and Bellatrix takes it slowly, then gently places it on the table, with a nod of thanks.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BELLA!” Sirius shouts over the low chatter of the room, and Remus flinches at the sound, handing Bellatrix a gift.

“Thank you,” Bellatrix says stiffly, taking the gift, unwrapping it, and then Andromeda hands her another one, then Narcissa. Hermione stays by Bellatrix’s side, one hand loosely around her waist, sensing her discomfort in the tightness of her shoulder, and the tension around her mouth. Soon enough, Molly is making Bellatrix cut the cake, then the matriarch takes over, cutting and handing out pieces of the dark chocolate cake.

Hermione lets herself get drawn into other conversations, as as the party is winding down, she spies Bellatrix by the window, staring wistfully out at the world.

“Hi,” Hermione joins her, kissing her cheek.

Bellatrix leans into her kiss, her hand sliding into the pack pocket of Hermione’s jeans and tugging her closer. “Hi… did you know, about-” she waves her other hand at the room- “this?”

“No,” Hermione answers, “would you be upset if I did?”

Bellatrix turns her gaze back to the view, then, finally, she answers, “No. I didn’t realise they… cared, that it was my birthday. Not enough to do this.”

Hermione closes her eyes and breathes. “Bella, look at me,” she requests softly, and she waits until Bellatrix’s dark eyes meet hers. “We’re your family, and we love you. And on your birthday, we’ll celebrate you, because we’re glad that you’re here for us to love, okay?”

“You’re my family?” Bellatrix breathes, shock written across her pale face. Hermione smiles and nods, and Bellatrix's eyes crinkle as she smiles back. “I love you, my sweet girl.”

Hermione sighs softly, partly a joyous laugh, and partly a sound of sadness. It seems that no matter how many times she says it, Bellatrix doesn’t believe that  she has a family, people who love her and care for her, so Hermione resolves to tell her everyday until she believes it. “I love you too, my Bella.”

“‘Your Bella’?” she asks, a cheeky grin quirking her lips. Her voice is throaty as she ducks her head closer to Hermione’s, pouty red lips only a breath away from Hermione’s.

“Mmm, mine. And I’m yours,” Hermione confirms with a soft laugh, catching Bellatrix’s lips in a kiss as the older woman pulls their bodies flush.

Chapter Text

The month that passes after Bellatrix’s birthday is relatively peaceful at number 12 Grimmauld Place, though there is a rising tension, an undercurrent. Each person in the house can sense the coming confrontation - there’s only so long they Order can let Voldemort control the ministry and terrorise Magical Britain.

The Order are convening for near daily meetings to plan and strategize, leaving the teenagers to their own devices.

Hermione finds herself in the library window seat, chatting with Harry. Draco and Susan are by the fire, talking quietly to each other.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages,” Harry says, looking at her up through his messy hair, green eyes shining.

An apology bubbles up in Hermione’s chest, but she pushes it down. “I know. It’s been… a weird year.”

Harry laughs, and Hermione finds she has missed the sound. “You’re telling me!” He nudges her and winks, and Hermione feels heat crawling up her cheeks.

“It was unexpected.”

“You’re good for her, anyone could see.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione says, squeezing his knees. “How’re things between you and Ginny?”

“We ended things, we sort of decided it wasn’t really working. Better as friends, you know?” Harry answers, leaning his head against the window.

Hermione sighs, and leans in to hug him. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know! I’ve been so wrapped up in Bella, and all, well, anyway, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he says, flashing her his signature carefree grin, “We kept the whole thing pretty quiet, we were only really seeing each other for a few weeks. Is everything good with you and Bellatrix?”

A smile slips onto Hermione’s lips, and she sees the Sirius-like look on his face when he sees her lovestruck face. “Yeah, she’s hard work, but she’s completely worth it. Constantly in Order meetings though.”

“So’s everyone. What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Ah, so you’re using me for my connections then, huh?” Hermione slaps his arm and he shoves her back.

“Nah, I’ve been called in a couple times, but Molly always sends me out as soon as they’re finished with me. Sirius hates it, he thinks I should be allowed to stay-”

“You should! We all should. We’ve been fighting this war since we were eleven!” Hermione riles up. They have been, but still, Molly, and some others, see them as children and don’t let them.

Harry sighs, and frustration laces his tone. “Exactly. They’ve only ever asked me about horcruxes, and what I did with Dumbledore before he... before he died.”

“You told them about the locket being fake?” Hermione asks with a warning in her voice.

Harry nods. “Yeah. Sirius and Narcissa went through Regulus’s room a couple months ago and found the real one, but they don’t know how to destroy it, so they’ve kept it pretty quiet.

“Good. Bella tells me it’s all about horcruxes and battle planning - when, where, how to make sure we have the upper hand,” Hermione says.

“So she does tell you things!” Harry exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Of course she does. She agrees with Sirius, so she tells me, just like he clearly tells you things. I mean, she could be keeping anything from me and I wouldn’t know, but I get the sense she’s trying to scare me into staying home.” Hermione confesses. “I want her to stay home too, but we’ll both be there when the time comes.”

“It’s hard for her, I guess, to love someone she knows will be in danger, she won’t be used to it. She’s usually the fighter. ” Harry sympathises, and Hermione throws her arms around him, squeezing tightly.

“I love you, Harry.”

He pats her back and chuckles. “I know, ‘Mione. I love you too.”

***

The afternoon sun is shining through the window, and Hermione snuggles closer to Bellatrix’s warm, naked body. Bellatrix mumbles, dozing, and tightens her grip on Hermione’s body, nuzzling her face into Hermione’s hair, and the brunette lets her heavy eyes close, her mind drifting to her conversation with Harry earlier in the day.

The Order might be collecting horcruxes, but they still had no idea how to destroy them, and they couldn’t go into battle without a plan.

Bellatrix screeches when Hermione leaps out of bed, shouting, “Basilisk!”

“What the fuck?” Bellatrix exclaims, panic in her voice as she reaches for both her wand and Hermione at the same time, her eyes screwed closed.

“No, not here, Bella,” Hermione says, humour in her voice, and Bellatrix pins her down with a glare as she dances around the room in celebration. “For the horcruxes! That’s how the diary was destroyed!” Hermione leaps onto the bed, pushing Bellatrix down and kissing her hotly until Bellatrix’s hands on her naked hips push her back.

“You’re not making any sense.”

Hermione sits back. “The Sword of Gryffindor. We can destroy the horcruxes with it, we have the locket and the cup-”

“How do you know that? That we have the locket?” Bellatrix asks sharply.

“Harry told me,” Hermione answers nonplussed.

The hyper-aware tension bleeds out of Bellatrix’s body and she drags herself into a sitting position. “The only horcrux that we’ve destroyed was with a basilisk fang, which we no longer have access to. I know you Gryffindors think you can fix everything, but-” she snaps, clearly upset about being woken so abruptly.

“No, you’re misunderstanding me,” Hermione says and Bellatrix bristles, arching an eyebrow. “Bella, it’s made of goblin-wrought silver. It imbibes only that which makes it stronger. Harry used it to kill the basilisk-”

“So it has the properties of basilisk venom,” Bellatrix completes Hermione’s sentence, comprehension dawning on her face. “You beautiful, clever girl!” Hermione laughs as Bellatrix pulls her off the bed, spinning her around and around. “My genius! My brilliant darling!” Hermione squeals as Bellatrix lifts her from the floor, kissing her deeply, pressing her against the wall. Hermione wraps her lips around Bellatrix's hips, kissing her back with desperate joy.

“We.. We have to tell everyone, Bella, We have to tell Sirius,” Hermione manages to get the words out between kisses, and Bellatrix drops her to her feet, making fot the door, but Hermione stops her with a hand on her wrist. Bellatrix gives her a confused look, and Hermione giggles. “We’re naked.”

With a laugh, Bellatrix dances Hermione across the room to the wardrobe, and they start dressing. Hermione is standing in her underwear, lacing Bellatrix’s corset when a sharp knock sounds on the door.

“What?” Bellatrix yells breathlessly.

“It’s your sister,” Narcissa calls, and they hear her heels clicking through the living room and into the bedroom.

“I heard shouting. I was concerned. It didn’t sound… pleasurable,” Narcissa says, cultured voice hesitating as she searches for the right word.

Bellatrix giggled as Hermione stepped back from her corset and pulled on a t-shirt and jeans. “You’d know all about ‘pleasurable shouting’, wouldn’t you, Cissy?” She teases, and a pink blush colours Narcissa’s cheeks.

Before the sisters can start sparring, Hermione reveals her idea. “We can destroy the horcruxes with the Sword of Gryffindor.” Narcissa opens her mouth to disagree, but Hermione ploughs on. “It’s imbued with basilisk venom, and venom killed the diary.”

Narcissa nods slowly. “That really is.. quite something, Hermione,” she compliments, and Bellatrix, now fully dressed, grabs Hermione’s hand and pulls her out to the hall and down the stairs.

Hermione can feel narcissa close behind her, but she still startles when the blonde whispers in her ear, “I also have my best ideas after sex, though this is quite extraordinary. The endorphins buzzing around your mind are incredible, aren’t they?”

Hermione stutters and Narcissa squeezes her shoulder. “It’s a fact of life, darling,” she says with a smirk. By now, Hermione knows it’s a little hobby of Narcissa’s to get under people’s skin.

“SIRIUS!” Bellatrix hollers.

“YEP?” he replies, shouting from the kitchen where Molly and Narcissa have him cleaning silver as punishment for a prank war with the twins. He’d been the only one foolish enough to get caught as the twins had slipped away to their flat before their mother could get her hands on them.

Narcissa gives a delicate cringe. “Bella,” she says reproachfully.

Bellatrix gives her an annoyed look. “Sod off, Cissy,” she says, skipping into the kitchen, dragging Hermione with her.

“What do you want?” Sirius sneers at Bellatrix, then it morphs into a grin. He drops his polishing cloth, then seeing Narcissa’s arched eyebrow, he slowly picks it up again and keeps polishing.

Bellatrix plants Hermione in front of Sirius with a smug grin. Her breath is warm on Hermione’s cheek as she whispers, “tell him.”

“I had an idea. The Sword of Gryffindor. It imbibes that which makes it stronger, so when Harry stabbed the basilisk in the Chamber, it would’ve taken on the properties of basilisk venom, which has proven to be able to kill Horcruxes. So if we can get our hands on the sword, we can kill the horcruxes.” Hermione explains her idea, and Sirius nods slowly, his dark eyes, so similar to Bellatrix’s, light up in the same way hers had.

“The sword’s at Hogwarts. As soon as we go anywhere near the castle, the battle will begin. It will be too difficult to coordinate killing the horcruxes in the midst of it all. We still need to find the Ravenclaw horcrux, we suspect that’s in Hogwarts somewhere. We might even have to ask the grey Lady,” Sirius sighs and throws down his polishing cloth with a sigh. Bellatrix is starting to bounce behind Hermione. “What I mean is that we already have a lot to do, and adding in the sword could make it all too much. We’re already at such a disadvantage in regards to numbers.”

Bellatrix giggles, then rests her chin on Hermione’s shoulder. “I have it.”

“Have what?” Sirius asks.

“The sword, dummy,” Bellatrix retorts, sliding her arms around Hermione’s waist as the younger witch twists her head to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s in my vault. The Dark Lord commanded Snape give it to the goblins to place in my vault only days before I defected. Snape’s been working for Dumbledore for years. He’s predictable. As soon as he knew I was here, which he would’ve, he’ll have put the sword there, hoping I would tell you I had it.”

With this information, Sirius spins into action, and within ten minutes the Order members in the house are gathered around the table. The plan that was already being worked up is finalised - a task force to hit Gringotts, while the majority of the order infiltrate Hogwarts through an old passage through a bar that Sirius remembers fondly. Grimmauld Place is to be set up as a hospital, helmed by Ted and Narcissa. All the fighters are to have password-activated portkeys to send the injured back to Grimmauld Place. And so the detailed planning begins, to be carried out as soon as possible.

***

Hermione touches her fingers to the branding tattoo on Bellatrix’s neck. She’s never touched it like this before. Underneath the ink is the faint ridges of scar tissue from the brutal application of the tattoo.

“It doesn’t look like any rune I know,” she says, gently questioning, but giving Bellatrix the option not to answer, but she does.

“It’s not. The tattoos speak of the crimes committed. They didn’t have any runes that fitted, so they combined several runes.” A low shiver runs through Bellatrix’s body, her voice is brittle, a twitch running through her thumb as her pulse thunders beneath Hermione’s fingers and the tattoo.

“What do they mean?” Hermione asks, curiosity forcing her to push the boundary. Bellatrix keeps her arm around Hermione, holding the younger witch snuggled to her body, but she draws her knees up, planting her feet solidly on the mattress.

“They’re composite runes. The first is the warrior rune, and a twisted fertility rune - I’m a female warrior, but I’m not a traditional woman,” Bellatrix’s voice is unreadable. A wistfulness threads through the anger and the sorrow.

“Like your name. Bellatrix. ‘Female warrior’ in Latin,” Hermione says, one finger still resting on the tattoo while her other hand strokes Bellatrix’s cheek.

Bellatrix leans into Hermione’s hand. “I suppose so.The other one is more complicated. Parts of two runes attached to the third. Together they mean pure, powerful, and God, as in, following a god. The Dark Lord. I was his lieutenant.” Bellatrix turns her head so she is looking at Hermione, and she pulls her fingers away from the tattoo, her hand shifting so she has both on Bellatrix’s cheeks. “The numbers are my prisoner number.”

“It’s barbaric - branding prisoners like this,” Hermione breathes, rage bubbling in her gut.

Bellatrix shakes her head once and closes her eyes. “It’s magical. It is irremovable. No matter what I do it will always be there. I can’t hide it, ever. It’s tied to my very magic. I did things, no matter what spells had been placed on me, so I have been rightfully punished.”

Hermione lifts her head and places a gentle kiss on Bellatrix’s lips. They settle quietly into each other’s arms, both knowing that as the upcoming battle looms, neither knows what will come, what life will be like after.

“Hermione?” Bellatrix whispers, her voice serious.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want you there.”

“Where?” Hermione sits up, crossing her legs, and Bellatrix mirrors her pose, conflict whining in her dark eyes.

“At Hogwarts. When the Dark Lord comes.”

Hermione feels herself physically recoil. “What?” She asks in shock. Is Bellatrix saying what she thinks she’s saying? Does she really believe that Hermione would stay behind rather than utilise her skills where they'll be needed?

“I want you to stay here, help Cissy and Ted during the battle” Bellatrix says clearly, and Hermione scrabbles back, off the bed and to her feet. Bellatrix follows her but Hermione keeps moving backwards, out of Bellatrix’s reach.

“No! No way! They don’t need me here. They have Andromeda, Susan, and Ginny, Kreacher, and Dobby too.”

Bellatrix reaches out a hand to Hermione, but she leaves the dark witch’s hand hanging in the air. “Please, Hermione. I need you-” she begs.

“This isn’t about you!” Hermione snaps, and Bellatrix pulls her hand back to her body. “I love you, Bella, I do. I want you to stay here, out of danger. But I recognise that you are a good dueler, you can protect yourself, and you have a stake in this battle, same as I do, and I know that you couldn’t sit back and watch from the sidelines, just as I can’t.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix says, her body craning towards Hermione, neither moving towards each other.

“I’ve been in the middle of this since Ron and Harry saved me from a troll in a bathroom when I was eleven. I will see it through. I’m sorry, but you can’t stop me. I can’t stay here.” Hermione says firmly.

“You can! You weren’t born into this like I was, like Harry was! No one would blame you, think less of you, if you helped here instead!” Bellatrix exclaimed fervently. Emotion makes her eyes luminous and wet, a red flush high on her cheekbones, and snug on her bosom.

Slowly, Hermione takes a purposeful breath, deep, counting the seconds. In. Hold. Out. “This is my war as much as it is anyone else's, and I have been battling since I was eleven. The obstacles to the Philosopher’s Stone, the Basilisk, Sirius and Pettigrew in the shrieking shack, the Twi-Wizard Tournament,, the Department of Mysteries, the night Professor Dumbledore died. I’m not letting the people I love die when I can help.

With a whine, Bellatrix drops to her knees, and Hermione rushes to her.

“ Je ne veux pas que tu meures ,” she moans, her voice cracking, and Hermione wraps her tightly in her arms.

“I can’t promise that I won’t die, and nor can you. But we can both swear we will do our best to get back to each other. If I die, it will be for equality, peace, for the love I have for this world, and the people I’ve met here. I love you. I would burn everything in my path to get to you,” Hermione said, gripping Bellatrix tightly, her face buried in her dark hair. “Trust me?”

“I do.”

Hermione pulls Bellatrix to her feet and onto the bed. “You have given me the deepest love, the most passionate, the truest love. If I die, I will be glad to have known this with you.”

“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” Bellatrix whispers, and Hermione gives a soft laugh.

“At least I’ve taught you something,” she says, handing Bellatrix her book, and the black-haired witch opens it, starting to read aloud.

Chapter Text

The kitchen in number twelve Grimmauld Place was full to bursting. Men and women, old and young, were preparing to fight, and most of them gave Bellatrix dirty glares or sharp looks as she shoved her way through, heading for the empty corner where Hermione was standing.

Bellatrix had probably fought most of the people in the room at some point, and that thought made her only that much more eager to reach the safety of Hermione. She immediately took Hermione’s outstretched hand as he younger woman said, “Hi, sweetheart,” with a warm smile.

“Hi, girl.” Bellatrix responded, pulling Hermione closed, her body flush against Hermione’s back, her arms wrapped around her. Hermione tilted her head back, resting it on Bellatrix’s shoulder, her breath whispering past Bellatrix’s neck.

“How’re you doing, Bella?” Hermione asked quietly.

Bellatrix kissed Hermione’s temple softly. “I’m… alright. Once he’s dead…” Bellatrix left the sentence unfinished, knowing that Hermione knew what she meant. Once Voldemort was dead, she, they could move on, they would be free, all of the British wizarding community would be free from his terror.

“I know, my love.” Hermione responded. “Tomorrow can be a fresh start, for everyone.”

“Yes.” Bellatrix replied simply, and they fell into silence as the rest of the room chattered in nervous energy.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius yelled and everyone quieted, turning their heads and seeing Sirius standing on the long table, waving his hands. “Everyone has been briefed, you know what to do! The Gringotts team, this side, and the Hogwarts team, over here.” He gestured to each side of the table, and the groups slowly began to separate. “And our Healers, who will be receiving those we all send back via Portkey, over here!”

Bellatrix felt Hermione twist in her embrace, and lift her arms around Bellatrix. “I love you, my girl,” Bellatrix whispered quietly.

Bellatrix felt Hermione’s hand against her cheek, she felt the younger woman pressed herself close, as if she want to slip under Bellatrix’s skin. “I love you, too, Bella.” Bellatrix pulled Hermione even closer, as they snuggled their faces into the other’s neck. “Stay safe.” Hermione breathed against Bellatrix’s skin. “Be strong.”

“I will if you will.” Bellatrix responded, squeezing Hermione’s body close for a moment then stepping back. She wished more than anything that they didn’t have to be separated, but they both had jobs to do. She watched as Hermione also stepped back, and she could read the resistance in every muscle in Hermione’s body. She saw Hermione turn to slip into the large group that was headed by Remus and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and it was as though the couldn’t stop herself. She spun Hermione back around, drawing her close, their bodies pressed flush against one another as she captured Hermione’s lips in an ardent kiss, trying to pour everything she didn’t have time to say, everything she couldn’t say, into the caress of her lips on Hermione’s. “If you die, I’ll fucking kill you.” Bellatrix whispered fiercely, then she propelled Hermione gently towards her group.

Sirius wolf whistled as Bellatrix strode across the room, her boots clicking on the wooden floor. When Bellatrix reached him, she smacked him hard on the arm, and he just laughed at her. The grandfather clock began to chime, one, two, three, four, five, each toll ringing out and echo ring through the room of silent fighters. “Right-o, that's time.” Sirius said, considerably more solemn that before. “Good luck, everyone, don't be reckless, let's beat this motherfucker!” Even Molly didn't chastise him as he skipped from the room, Bellatrix and the five others following. Bellatrix stepped through the open door, knowing that the Death Eaters who were watching the house wouldn't see her unless she went down to the footpath. With a snap, she disapparated, and she could hear similar sounds around her as the group of seven gathered in a dark side street off Diagon Alley.

“Remember, this is not a covert operation, we are here to get the cup and the sword, and also to draw You-Know-Who’s forces to us, so that the others can do their thing” Sirius reminded the group. Bellatrix slipped her hand into her laced up boot, by her knee. She felt the ornate handle, and she felt her heart slow a little. Oh, she could fight, but planned battles were not her forté . She would much prefer to be in the midst of the fight, not planning it, because it gave her time to get nervous, and nerves were a distraction that could be lethal. Bellatrix glanced around the group, and they all nodded at her, so she lead them from the dark alley and onto the cobbled street, lined with boarded up shops.

The strike team naturally fell into an arrow formation, Bellatrix leading, flanked on either side by Sirius and Lucius. Behind Sirius was Andromeda, then Bill Weasley, while Lucius was followed by Amelia Bones and Charlie Weasley. Each member of the team had been hand picked from amongst the Order, each for something only they could bring to the mission.  Bellatrix knew that she and Lucius inspired fear in those who saw the, most people would recognise Amelia as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Andromeda and Sirius were both brilliant fighters, and as they had been raised with Bellatrix, the three could fight as a perfect unit, anticipating the other’s moves. Bill was their link to the goblins, as he had worked with them, and Charlie was on hand in case there was trouble with the dragon that guarded the vault. It also helped that Bellatrix, Lucius, and Sirius had all spent time in Azkaban, and were known criminals, and only stupid people would engage them all in a fight and hope to survive.

The guards standing at the bank open the doors as they saw the group marched towards. Bellatrix could hear her boots clicking on the marble floors, accompanied by the softer sounds of the arguably more sensible footwear that the others had chosen. She could feel the beady eyes of the goblin tellers, seated at their high benches lining the hall, watching them.

As Bellatrix clicked her heels to a stop in front of the central desk, she could hear Andromeda’s nervous, rushed breathing behind her, she could almost feel the nervous energy radiating from Sirius as he rolled slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Can I help you, Madame Lestrange?” The goblin rasped, he was fully aware of the battalion of warriors who had walked into the bank. Bellatrix chose to ignore his choice of name with which to address her, she would pick her battles today, she thought with an ironic smirk.

“I wish to enter my vault.” She said imperiously, lifting her chin, staring him down, as she placed her key on the marble desktop with a small clink that echoed through the room, highlighting the silence that the absence of the scratching of quills left behind.

The goblin stared impassively down at her, then lifted a curled hand. “Bogrod will take you.” He snarled and continued with his writing , ignoring the group.

“This way, Madame Lestrange.” A goblin stepped forward, and Bellatrix assumed he must be Bogrod. She made to follow him, and so did everyone else, and he stopped, growling, “Only you, Lestrange.”

“They are coming with me, goblin.” Bellatrix hissed. If she were attacked while she was down in the vaults, she would have no backup.

“No, witch .” Bogrod snarled at her, baring his teeth slightly. “They stay here. New policy.” Bogrod’s face relaxed, impassive. “Of course, Madame Black.” He said agreeably, holding out his hand to guide them to a large cart.

Bellatrix waited for everyone else to clamber in, then took Lucius’s offered hand. As she passed him, she paused and whispered, “I saw that.”

“I knew you would.” Lucius smiled graciously.

“Just keep him under control, and don't tell Bones” Bellatrix smiled back at him, and sat next to Andromeda as the cart took off.

“Was it you or Lucius who imperiused Bogrod?” Andromeda leaned close, under the pretence of holding onto the railing behind Bellatrix.

“Lucius.” Bellatrix answered, then yelped as they passed under a torrent of water. “What in Merlin’s name was that ?” She screeched, completely drenched, as were the rest of the group.

“The Thief's Downfall.” Bill Weasley said with a chuckle. “It washes away any disguises.” Sirius flicked his wet hair from his eyes, and Bellatrix smirked at him, casting a drying charm in herself, then Andromeda.

“What did you do?” Bogrod asked, confused and angry. Bellatrix glared sharply at Lucius, and Bogrod’s eyes glassed over again.

Amelia Bones was the first off the cart, following Bogrod, and as they all disembarked, the picked up the flankers that Bill guided them to. “What do they do?” Amelia asked as she began to shake the metal rattle.

“The dragon has been trained to expect pain at this sound, so it stays back.” Bill answered, grimacing slightly as he explained the systematic torture of the Ukrainian Ironbelly.

“That's barbaric!” Andromeda exclaimed, slowly shaking the clanker unwillingly.

“It is.” Sirius agreed, patting his cousin’s shoulder reassuringly.

Bellatrix scoffed. “You're soft hearted, Andy. What's done is done, and feeling pity for the beast isn't going to reverse what happened to it.”

“I know, Bella, but feeling pity is better than feeling nothing at all.” Andromeda retorted with a glare at Bellatrix’s back.

“I never said-” Bellatrix began heatedly, but Lucius interrupted silkily.

“Let's not fight, ladies. Narcissa would kill me if you killed each other down here.” He glided past Bellatrix, taking the lead past the cowering and growling dragon.

Bellatrix glowered at Lucius’s back, following him into the smaller alcove where the door to her vault was. Bogrod squeezed to the front of the group, and Lucius lifted the goblins small hand and pressed it to the door, which issued a series of loud clanks and clicks, then slowly swung open. “Sister,” Lucius spread his hand towards the open vault, “After you.” Bellatrix grinned and marched into the cavernous Lestrange Vault.

“One of you Gryffindors can fetch the sword, it's over there.” Bellatrix flicked her hand at the sword, which lay propped up against a trunk and Sirius lifted it up, the candlelight glinting against the engraved blade and the rubies embedded in the golden hilt.

“I never thought that I would…” Sirius whispered, trailing one finger along the flat if the blade, then he handed it to Charlie, who was similarly in awe.

Bellatrix snatched the cup from a shelf, and as she turned, Amelia Bones was standing in front of her. “May I?” She lifted a hand for the cup, and Bellatrix gave it to her. Amelia held Hufflepuff’s cup reverently in her hands.

“Bella? This is addressed to you.” Andromeda handed Bellatrix a small scroll, sealed with black wax.

“Who is it from?” Bellatrix asked, taking the letter and breaking the seal.

“I don’t know.” Andromeda replied. “Do you recognise the handwriting?”

Bellatrix scanned the letter, which began with Dear Bellatrix in a loopy cursive scrawl. “No. Lucius.” She called, and the blond glided into the vault, to Bellatrix’s side, and peered over her shoulder at the letter.

“Severus.” Lucius said, and Sirius turned sharply.

“Why has Snivellus left you a letter?” He asked loudly, and everyone turned to look at Bellatrix.

“It says that he turned spy for Dumbledore before the Potters went into hiding, and that he will do his best to aid the Order.” Bellatrix said as she read the letter. She had always thought that Snape wasn't trustworthy, but look what had happened to her, she hadn't exactly turned out to be the Dark Lord’s most loyal follower.

“Actions speak louder than words. Let's see what he does tonight.” Sirius proclaimed cynically. “We need to kill the horcrux, do you have the locket?”

“Here.” Andromeda said, pulling it from her pocket and laying it on a nearby trunk. Amelia set the cup next to it.

“Who wants to do it?” Sirius asked and everyone looked around at each other, no one speaking. “Amelia, would you like to kill the cup? And one of you snakes can kill the locket.”

Amelia nodded, and took the sword that Charlie offered. As she placed the cup on the floor, Bellatrix leant in to Lucius and Andromeda and whispered, “Who wants to?”

Bellatrix watched as Lucius evaluated them, the spoke quietly, “Andromeda should, she has the most to lose if the Dark Lord takes power.”

“I agree.” Bellatrix concurred as Amelia lifted the sword high, pointing straight down at the cup by her feet, and drove the blade through, splitting the gold in two with an unearthly shriek. Sirius caught he as she lost her balance from the force of the smoke that rushed at her with Voldemort’s face.

Andromeda placed the locket in the ground next to the cup, and as she picked up the fallen sword, it began to hiss and speak, as if sensing the danger it was in. “I know your deepest fears, Andromeda Black. The world of those of the purest blood is not yours, for you have been tainted, but neither is the world of the mud for you, as you were born above it. You are destined to be forever stranded between both, unaccepted and unloved.” The unembodied voice grew to a crescendo, echoing through the vault, until Andromeda slammed the sword down, shattering the locket, which gave a screech as Andromeda fell to her knees with the strength of her strike.

“He does love me.” She breathed, her head bowed. Bellatrix watched as Sirius pulled Andromeda into a strong embrace.  Bellatrix picked up the two halves of the cup, and the broken locket, and as she did, she heard the faint sound of a cart rattling down along the tracks. This deep, there were only vaults belonging to the oldest families, and a lot of them had died out. It was highly likely that anyone coming this deep were either goblins, or Death Eaters. Either way, Bellatrix surmised, they needed to be ready for a fight.

“Someone's coming down.” She said, and everyone immediately tensed, slipping their wands into their hands and listening out. They all heard the cart grind to a halt, the distinctly human sounding boots on the stone. Bellatrix slipped her knife from her boot, gripping it in the hand not holding her wand as she moved forward silently. Bellatrix felt Lucius, Sirius, and Amelia behind her, creeping forward. They were the best fighters in the group, if not in the whole Order, because they all had a certain moral ambiguity that other Order members like McGonagall and Lupin did not possess, so whoever dared try take them on would soon regret it. Bellatrix twirled her dagger and spun out, flinging it forwards and spinning back against the wall.

She heard the knife embed itself in flesh, she heard the screams of pain and the yelling from the injured man's companions. “It's Lestrange! Shit, it's her! We’re fucking dead, it's Lestrange!” The voices sounded young, scared.

“Coward!” A girl yelled back, “Our Lord sent us here, he has faith in us, I will not disappoint him!”

Lucius grinned and amplified his voice. “If you leave now, maybe we won't kill you.” He drawled over the continuing moans and gurgles of pain.

“We’re not leaving, traitor! We won't betray our Lord like you did!” The girl yelled back. Bellatrix rolled her eyes at the girl’s foolishness, smirking as she heard the sound of her dagger being pulled out, then saw it clatter on the stones. She summoned it quickly, calling out a thanks, laughing. Clearly these new recruits had never been taught the basics of fighting.

Bellatrix looked behind her and saw the whole group with their wands out, ready to fight, and she flicked her hand at them, signalling that they should start the melee. Sirius ran out with a grin, throwing spells left and right, and Lucius was the opposite, strolling forwards, lazily casting with his snake head topped elm wand. Amelia’s fighting style was much more restrained than Sirius’s and more focused than Lucius’s. She cast assuredly, and practically, and the Weasley boys followed her, quickly engaging two Death Eaters. Bellatrix saw Andromeda hang back, and she knew that her sister would probably be thinking that these Death Eaters they were fighting were younger than Nymphadora.

Bellatrix slashed her curved wand, whipping curses around, felling the young Death Eaters all around her. The fight, it couldn't be called a battle, was over in five minutes. Most of the Death Eaters were only injured, and they had all been tied up, and their wands snapped. Lucius prodded Bogrod forward and they began to pass the dragon again and they heard goblin chatter getting closer, when the dragon roared and lunged forward. “It's loose!” Charlie bellowed, and Bellatrix whipped her wand out, scanning the stone cave for a plan. Suddenly she ran forward, leaping up a staircase.

“Come here!” She yelled, and Sirius was the first to follow her, then everyone else ran up the stairs too. Bellatrix blasted the railings away, and took a running jump at the dragon’s back, grabbing on and swinging her leg over its spine. Again Sirius followed, then the rest, and Bill blasted the dragon's tail and it began to push up through the bank. It broke free of the roof and took off.

Charlie cast sparks in front of them to point the dragon in the right direction, and they were quickly on their way to Hogwarts. As they flew low over the lake, Amelia screamed to jump, and they all did, swimming through the freezing water to the shore, and emerged dripping wet, quickly drying themselves. They ran up towards the castle, one by one dropping off to fight. Bellatrix kept running up, and as she entered the courtyard, she had to begin dodging spells.

A group of masked Death Eaters, maybe four or five emerged in front of her and she began to fight them. The heat of the battle took her over, and time seemed to speed up and slow down all at once, as she ferociously fought. Unexpectedly, her combatants began to fall, and Bellatrix saw Hermione standing there, hair coming out of her braid, ripped jeans, and a scratch on her face. Bellatrix felt such a great relief seeing Hermione unharmed, and as the younger girl ran to her, Bellatrix held her arms open, pulling Hermione close, immersing herself in Hermione’s feel, in her smell. “Sweet girl.” Bellatrix breathed and Hermione hummed, Bellatrix felt her hands wind into her hair.

Chapter Text

Hermione stood in the corner of the kitchen. It was nearly five, and the whole Order had gathered in the Grimmauld Place, readying themselves for the inevitable battle that would occur that night. She watched as Bellatrix slipped through the door, and after the briefest pause, locked her eyes on Hermione’s corner and charged through the crowded room. Hermione could tell that Bellatrix was singular in her desire to get where she was going. She didn’t notice, as Hermione, who had been studying the room, did, the farewells that were occurring in the room between members that were being split between the two missions taking place, Gringotts and Hogwarts.

Lucius Malfoy was gripping Narcissa’s hand as the blonde woman’s other hand fluttered along Draco’s cheek. Nearby, Hermione could see Andromeda and Ted embracing, arms around each other, Andromeda’s head tucked beneath Ted’s chin as they whispered to each other. Leaning against the wall, close to her parents, Hermione was surprised to see Tonks snogging Charlie Weasley. Fred and George were laughing with Ron and a surly Ginny, who was being made to stay with Ted and Narcissa to treat the wounded who would be sent back with portkeys that had been assigned to the Order to give out to those mortally wounded. Also staying behind was Susan Bones, who was standing with her aunt, but Hermione could see her eyes on Draco, whose silver eyes were regularly flitting over to the redhead too. Harry was standing with Sirius and Remus, looking terribly grave, and Hermione wanted to go to him, knowing he would be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but she saw Bellatrix burst through the last of the crowd, and she knew that her girlfriend would be feeling the effects of having to go back into battle.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Hermione reached, almost subconsciously, for Bellatrix, needing only some sort of physical contact.

“Hi, girl.” Hermione let Bellatrix pull her in front of her and wrap her arms tight around Hermione’s body. Hermione let her head tip back as she asked after Bellatrix’s wellbeing.

Bellatrix dropped a gentle kiss on Hermione’s temple then answered. “I’m… alright. Once he’s dead…”

Hermione laid her hand on top of Bellatrix’s, where they rested on the younger witch’s stomach. “I know, my love. Tomorrow can be a fresh start, for everyone.” Hermione listened as Sirius called out instructions for everyone to gather in their groups, the strike team going to Gringotts to get the cup, which Bellatrix was a part of, the larger team going to Hogwarts to evacuate the school and prepare it for battle, and the few healers who were remaining at Grimmauld Place to treat the injured sent back by portkey.

Hermione turned to wrap her arms around Bellatrix as the older woman whispered, “I love you, my girl.” Hermione breathed in the dark haired witch’s unique scent of elderberries and liquorice.

“I love you too, Bella. Stay safe. Be strong.” Hermione said quietly as the rest of the room split into groups.

Bellatrix gave Hermione one last tight squeeze. “I will if you will,” she said as she stepped back. Hermione could see the anguish of separation in Bellatrix’s eyes, and was taken off-guard as Bellatrix pulled her back for a passionate kiss. Hermione could feel every emotion in the kiss. “If you die, I’ll fucking kill you.” Bellatrix whispered and Hermione smiled as Bellatrix nudged Hermione in the direction of the Hogwarts team.

Hermione slipped in next to Fleur as the silent room listened to the clock chiming five. Narcissa and Lucius had met eyes across the room, and Molly was scanning the faces of her children, the eldest two going to Gringotts, Ron and the twins to Hogwarts, Ginny staying behind. Percy was conspicuously absent, still working at the Ministry. Sirius made one last good luck wish then he lead his team of seven from the room. Hermione watched Bellatrix leave the room and wished more than anything that she wasn’t watching the woman she loved leave to go to battle, but she knew that others in the room were feeling the same, Fleur, Remus, Narcissa, Ted, Susan, Tonks, Molly, and Harry. All of them were watching as one or more of their loved ones left, and no one in the room knew if or when they would see their loved ones, friends or family again.

“She’ll come back, Hermione. She’d do anything to be with you.” Hermione hadn’t noticed but Narcissa had shifted to her side, and as she spoke, she laid a comforting hand on Hermione’s arm.

“I know, but I’m worried. She can be so… so impulsive.”

Narcissa laughed softly. “That’s one way of putting it, she can be. But she never used to go to a fight filled with regret of leaving, but now she does. This is your first time seeing someone you love off to battle. You learn to deal with the feelings, to make them useful. Don’t waste time and energy on hoping she’ll be okay, otherwise you’ll be killed, and where would it have gotten you?” Narcissa slipped over to Draco, leaving Hermione pondering her words.

Remus announced that it was time to go, and in pairs they gean to leave the room, apparating to the outskirts of Hogsmeade from the front step. Harry and Kingsley went first, then Tonks and Luna, Draco and Fleur, Fred and Emmeline Vance, closely followed by Hestia Jones and George, Neville and Arthur, Molly and Augusta Longbottom, then Ron and Sturgis Podmore. Hermione and Remus said their last goodbyes to Narcissa, Ted, Ginny, and Susan, the healing team, before they too left the room. When they opened the door, Remus took Hermione’s arm, firmly but gently, and side apparated her to a copse of trees , and when the reached the treeline, they began to walk towards the town’s boundaries, and the rest of the group emerged. Remus and Hermione were the signal to begin making the move, as they were the last to arrive.

Hermione looked to her right and caught Harry’s eye, smiling at him as he gripped her wand in the same white-knuckled grip that she was holding hers. “Good luck.” Hermione mouthed at him, and he smiled and nodded, and she knew the sentiment was returned.

It became glaringly obvious that there were Death Eaters in the town, and that they had warded the place, when the alarms began blaring out, loud screeches that called the attention of any guards. Augusta was the first to despatch a Death Eater with a quick severing charm to the neck, and Draco took down the second with a grisly confringo . Hermione flinched as the burning man screamed, and noticed others having the same reaction, but she quickly refocused when the last Death Eater came sprinting at her, clearly hoping against all odds to capture one of Harry Potter’s closest allies and deliver her to the Dark Lord, but Hermione ended him with her own severing charm and the group continued into Hogsmeade and along the main street.

Hermione could remember the slightly awkward first time she had come to Hogsmeade, in her third year, with Ron. Harry’s aunt and uncle hadn’t signed the form, so he had stayed at the castle, but Hermione could still feel the hesitant insistence that she had felt, wanting to visit Tomes and Scrolls and Scrivenshaft’s, while Ron had probably felt the same way, itching to go to Zonko’s and Honeydukes. Hermione also remembered the carefree weekends she had spent here with Harry and Ron together, she remembered the day they had started Dumbledore’s Army, and the first September she had come, when she was eleven and the train had sluggishly rolled into the station she could see in the distance. Hermione scanned the group, and saw Ron stalking down the street next to Sturgis Podmore, a man Hermione had never really spoken to. She saw Harry with Kingsley, both standing tall and the front of the group as they led the way through Hogsmeade. Her initial thought had been that pairing Harry with Kingsley, an accomplished Auror and de facto leader of the Order was a bad idea, but Harry needed the protection that Kinsgely would provide, and Kingsley would be safer with Harry as a partner, given that no Death Eaters were aiming to kill Harry, only capture.Hermione looked to her own side and saw Remus, and she guessed that he, along with most of the group, was thinking about his own cherished memories of the small, magical village.

Kingsley and Harry swung into a small alley that Hermione recognised, and soon they were all piled in the Hog’s Head, and the barman, who had turned out to be Dumbledore’s brother, bolted the door behind them. “How did he know we were coming?” Hermione asked Remus quietly.

“Fawkes has been helping us with communication, the Death Eater’s forbade communication by traditional means.” Remus explained as Harry and Kingsley were the first to step into the tunnel behind a painting of a pretty red-haired girl. Hermione flashed a smile at Remus as he climbed up and offered her a hand. Aberforth slammed the portrait closed as soon as she was in, and the Order walked in silence through the tunnel, eventually coming out into the Room of Requirement, where the dredges of the DA had gathered to escape the Carrows’ tortures. The room went crazy when Harry appeared, and the students saw the amount of prepared fighters who had come.

Kingsley quickly took control of the room, sending everyone who was under seventeen or didn’t want to fight back through the tunnel. In response to Harry’s question about Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, which they had not been able to find any illustrations of in the very Slytherin-centric Black library, Cho took Harry and Kingsley to look at a statue in the Ravenclaw common room. This left Remus in command, and he quickly assigned everyone areas or the castle to ward and protect. Just as Hermione and Remus were leaving the Room of Requirement, a thought came to her. “Remus, basilisk venom!” She exclaimed as she stopped dead in the corridor.

“What about it?” Remus asked patiently.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. “I know where we can find it, the Chamber of Secrets. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this,” Hermione berated herself as she led Remus down to the second floor, “but basilisk fangs are imbued with venom, and there is a relatively fresh basilisk corpse underneath the castle. We can stab the horcruxes that we find, maybe extract some venom too.”

“You really are amazing, Hermione, but neither of us speak parseltongue, and doesn’t the entrance to the chamber only open to a parselmouth.” Remus praised her as they ran down a moving staircase. Once they reached the bathroom, they saw Ron and Sturgis running down the hallway. Sturgis was chasing after Ron, whose lanky legs gave him more spread that the shorter man.

“Remus, he just took off.” Sturgis gasped between breaths, and Ron interrupted loudly.

“Basilisk fangs!”

Hermione swung around and looked at him in surprise. “I had the same idea. But none of us speak parseltongue.”

“Harry does.” Ron shoved the door open and walked over to the sinks. In response to everyone’s confused looks, Ron explained. “Harry talks in his sleep, the same thing over and over, so it’s not to hard to pick it up.” Ron stood in front of the sink with the snake carved into it and hissed. To Hermione’s shock, it began to slide away, opening to reveal a large tunnel, which Ron leapt into. “Just jump!” His voice echoed back, and Hermione followed his instructions.

The tunnel was clearly a drain, slippery and mouldy. When she reached the bottom, the landed on a pile of old, small bones, rats. Once everyone was down, Ron lead the way to the Chamber itself. He was the only one who had been down here before. They levitated some rocks off the pile to give them all enough space to crawl through, and once they reached the door covered in snake emblems, Ron hissed again and the door swung open with a clunk.

Immediately, Hermione was hit with the stench of rotting basilisk, and she cast a bubblehead charm on herself, as did Remus and Sturgis, then she cast one on Ron because they had never attended seventh year and he did not know the spell. Hermione summoned a fang, and the other three followed her head, levitating them into a bag conjured by Remus, and leaving the chamber as quickly as possible.

They hurried back through the drains but were stuck when faced with the dilemma of how to get back up the drain. Hermione knew that she could fly, but the others couldn’t. Eventually they all agreed on Hermione transfiguring Remus, Sturgis, and Ron into quills, and Hermione carrying them out, with the basilisk fangs clutched in her talons. They quickly executed the plan, and Hermione flew into a bathroom stall to transform into her human form and conjure some clothes. Once she was dressed, Hermione reemerged and returned everyone to their natural state. Remus cancelled the locking spells on the door, and they headed for the courtyard, where they could hear the sound of fighting.

“The place where everything is hidden, come on!” Harry yelled as he streaked past, Kingsley close on his heels. Hermione was the first to spin around and follow, Remus and Ron close behind.

“Not again.” Sturgis sighed as he brought up the rear of the group running through the castle, up moving staircases and along corridors until they reached the blank wall of the seventh floor corridor. Harry paced back and forth as Hermione and Ron watched him. Kingsley and Remus had their wands out, on guard, and Sturgis arrived, panting.

“Come on!” Harry yelled again as the doors appeared and he ran through them. Ron followed instantly, but Hermione threw a glance back at Remus, who nodded at her.

“Go, we’ll protect the room. Be quick.” Remus smiled tightly for a second as Hermione ran into the room, basilisk fang in one hand, wand in the other. The scoured the room for what felt like an age but was in reality only a couple of minutes, until Harry yelled that he had found it. He offered a blue velvet box to hermione, and she laid it on the stone floor and flipped the lid open. Inside was Ravenclaw’s diadem, a beautiful work of silver and sapphire, clearly goblin-made.

“You do it, Mione.” Harry stepped back to stand by Ron as Hermione switched the fang inot her right hand. She knelt down next to the diadem and raised her arm above her head and swung downwards with all the strength she could muster. As the fang collided with the diadem, Hermione felt the groundshock race up her arm. And then there was fire pouring from the diadem, and Hermione stumbled back, pulled to her feet by Harry as they all ran as fast as they could to the door but the fire was gaining on them. Hermione saw some old broomsticks out of the corner of her eye.

“Harry, Ron! Fly!” She yelled at them, and the two boys veered off and snatched the brooms, taking off quickly. Before she could transform, Ron had grabbed her and pulled her up behind him. Hermione closed her eyes as she held on to Ron for dear life. They tumbled through the doors just as shey slammed shut, containing the fire, and the Room gave an almighty boom.

“Did you get it?” Kingsley asked, only half turning towards them. Harry replied in the affirmative as Ron pulled Hermione to her feet. Before she realised what was happening, his lips were on hers, he was pressing her close, and she shoved him back.

“Ron!” Hermione stepped back further. “What are you doing?”

“I-” Ron began to answer but Hermione interrupted him.

“Never mind.” She dismissed him, taking off at a jog down the hallway, Remus following behind her. When she rounded the corner, she stopped and glanced out the window. Far down below, she could see Bellatrix fighting. Her heart stuttered when she saw the Death Eaters begin to overwhelm the black-haired witch.

Without a second thought, Hermione had transformed and flew out the window. She could hear Remus yelling after her as she allowed her form to freefall until she was level with the giant’s heads. She descended in a tight spiral, transforming back as she landed, immediately beginning to take out the Death Eaters closing in on Bellatrix. It only took a few more second for Bellatrix to disable the remaining opponents, and Hermione began to run towards her. Bellatrix’s skirt was torn and shredded along the hem, Hermione could see a bloody dagger sticking out of her boot. Her hair was wild and knotty, and there was a streak of blood across her collarbone.

Hermione ran into Bellatrix’s open arms and they held each other tight for a moment. “Sweet girl.” Hermione heard Bellatrix whisper, and she smiled, squeezing Bellatrix closer as she leaned up to kiss her.