Chapter 9: Uncomfortable TruthsChapter Text
With a yelp, Hermione sat up in bed panting and bathing in sweat. She closed her eyes and needed a moment to catch her breath and slowly realized where she was: in the safety of her room at her childhood home. Bathed in darkness, Hermione had only a sliver of light from the moon outside while the autumn wind howled past her window.
Hermione rubbed her face and used the duvet to wipe the moisture away. The nightmare was the same as always. Flashes of the war, the terror, the pain and... Bellatrix. The older Bellatrix. The torture.
She checked her arm: at least the cursed would hadn't reopened this time. Small mercy, that.
Hermione checked the time and found it to be quarter past four on her alarm clock. Knowing quite well how this went by now, she knew wouldn't get an ounce of sleep for the rest of the night. She settled for simply turning on her night light and picking up one of her books to spend a few hours distracting herself while she let the anxiety simmer down a bit. So, she fluffed up her pillow, leaned back and got comfortable while reading a simple muggle book. The book in question was Treasure Island. Fitting, as pirates seemed more palatable than wizards at the moment.
It was getting lighter outside and Hermione was just enjoying a witty exchange between Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver when she heard some ticking outside her window. Curious, Hermione looked up and saw an owl sitting at the window: an owl she immediately recognized as Pigwidgeon. Owls usually waited to deliver mail until the receiving party was up… and since she was, Pigwidgeon felt it was time to deliver his message.
Hermione put the book to her side and slipped out of bed, shivering slightly from the cold rush of air after opening the window. "Hello there, Pig," Hermione greeted. "What are you doing here?"
The answer was a letter which was swiftly lain in Hermione's hands, from Ron of course. Hermione broke the wax seal and tried to make sense of Ron's almost indecipherable handwriting.
"Hey, Hermione,
I stopped by to visit at Hogwarts but was surprised to find you had left. McGonagall told me you're spending autumn break with your parents. I'm glad you did, considering everything that's been happening. Still, I'm hoping you can spare at least one day, the last day of autumn break, at the Burrow. Just grab a floo at any point in the day since we'll keep our fireplace open for visitors. Everyone's coming, Harry too, for a lovely Sunday roast. We'd love it if you'd drop by for a bite and a chat. And if you're worried about mum, don't be. She's not angry with you at all.
Hope to see you Sunday!
R."
Hermione smiled a bit. She motioned for Pigwidgeon to wait a bit and quickly wrote a reply that she'd be coming next Sunday. It would be on the way back anyway and she'd be able to catch the Hogwarts Express in the station at Leeds. Hermione gave the letter to Pig and the plucky little owl was off. Afterwards, Hermione curled up in bed with Treasure Island for a bit more until she started to hear movement in the house. She put the book away for later and slipped out of bed to go through the morning routine of shower and dressing.
Hermione greeted her parents as cheerfully as she could muster and joined them at the table for a hearty English breakfast. It didn't take long at all for the whole situation to turn decidedly awkward. As a family they often chatted at the table about everything and anything: stories from school, happenings at the practice, old stories from the past of family, making plans for holidays they would never go on and general philosophy. As an only child, Hermione had a tight bond with her parents.
But today? Nothing. It wasn't as if Hermione didn't want to talk to her parents, it was just that she couldn't think of anything to say to them. And her father was looking at her as if he had something on his mind, but didn't seem to want to be the first person to talk. Her mother looked back and forth between the two of them, looking rather demure.
"More tea, dear?" asked her mother. The first word spoken in ten minutes. Hermione gave only the slightest hint of a nod.
More silence.
The situation was becoming unbearable until her father finally put down his fork and looked at her intently. "So... are we just going keep pretending we haven't heard the crying or the screams last night, Emma?"
"Jack," her mother hissed.
There. It was out. It almost felt like a relief to Hermione. "Dad..." she started to say. Of course after the while incident with the memory charms a few months back, getting their family home back had been only one part of Hermione's worries: she had definitely had some explaining to do. So, she had told her parents everything without holding back this time. All the details.
Her dad had not taken it well.
"What happened to my curious and active little girl?!" her father pleaded. "I remember you vividly regaling us with the most minute details of the wizarding world. All the things you've learned, the wonders you've seen. And now? You've been silent as the grave. And not just today. Yesterday, you've been so withdrawn. I've never seen you like this."
"Jack," her mother gently took hold of his time. "Give Hermione some time."
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "No, mum," said Hermione. "Dad... dad's right. I haven't been myself for a while now. I've been trying to deny it myself, throwing myself on my school work to hide from it, but... I know I'm not well. I have nightmares and flashbacks. I... I feel... I..." Hermione took a few deep breaths. "I'm not myself. I don't think I'll ever be myself again..."
Her father closed his eyes and shook his head. "Good lord," he whispered. "What have they done to you?"
"Who?"
"Those wizards and witches, of course!" her father exclaimed.
"Oh, Jack," spoke her mother. "I'm certain that Hogwarts is giving Hermione the help she needs. Right, dear?"
Her mother was trying to be the voice of reason. Obviously her parents had been talking. Unfortunately, the true was a bit more uncomfortable than she would like. "Mum, dad, I'll deal with it. Really. Hogswarts... the wizarding world... psychiatric care isn't really a thing there and it's not as if I can go to a muggle therapist."
"So they just left you to deal with it yourself?!" her father sighed. "How could they do that?! They owe you! The Ministry of Magic owes you! Hogwarts owes you!"
Emma reached over to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, sweetie, they're not doing anything for you at all?"
Hermione smiled briefly. "I have McGonagall to talk to..."
"Not good enough, dammit! Not good enough!" her father slammed the flat of his hands on the table as he rose from his chair, causing Hermione to start briefly. Her father wasn't someone who would get angry. In all her twenty years of life, she had only seen him angry a handful of times. This was one of them. His anger wasn't directed at her, though. In fact, it broke her heart to see her father so close to tears. "Hermione, they made you fight a war! A bloody war! What kind of sick society makes children fight a war for them?!"
"Dad!" Hermione snapped back. "I chose to fight! I chose to make a stand! I fought in the war because I thought it was just and right. And if I hadn't, I'd have been a victim! There were people around me who were far worse off that I've ever been!"
"Puppet," her father sniffed. "You were tortured."
The word slammed a weight on her of a thousand tons, as if someone had dropped an anvil on her back. Hermione tried to respond, but couldn't. "I..." she muttered, her voice cracking and tears coming. For a moment there, she was no longer in her parents' house, not longer at the breakfast table. She was in that dark manor, on the cold floor, with Bellatrix Lestrange hovering over her, biting, cutting, clawing and punching. Carving her skin, mocking her, belittling her. Screaming and cackling in her ear.
Hermione felt her hands start to tremble, her body starting to shake. She doubled forward and started bawling uncontrollably, until both sets of parents' arms wrapped around her. Hermione calmed down somewhat and looked her father in the eye with quivering lip. "Yes. I was," she replied. "What do you want me to say? That I'm broken? That I feel that my friends are abandoning me? That I feel frightened and alone? That I feel I might never be myself again? And that the one person who does make me feel like myself is someone I can never speak of? Oh, irony upon irony."
Her father still held her while he shook his head. "I never should have let you go," he whispered.
"Jack," spoke her mother. "It was never your fault. We decided together. Hermione had a voice in it too."
And finally, Hermione understood: her father had his own demons and guilt to deal with.
"If only we hadn't allowed you to go, you would have stayed with us in the muggle world," said Jack. "You would have done great things with your life, puppet. You could have been a doctor, an engineer. Hell, even a hairdresser. Better than the alternative."
"The traumatized mess I am now?" Hermione raised both eyebrows.
"Yes! No! I mean..."
"I'm still Hermione Granger, dad," said Hermione. "I'm still your daughter. I'll always be."
"Hermione, I'm your father! I was supposed to protect you!" her father squeezed his eyes shut. "I... I failed you just as much as Hogwarts and the Ministry failed you."
"Don't say that," Hermione shook her head. "I've been a bad daughter. I've neglected you and mum for stupid things I now regret! It was my choice to go to the wizarding world, it was my choice to fight in the war. I now have to deal with the consequences of those choices. And you both are here for me now."
Her father let out a deep sigh while her mother embraced her once more. "I swear," spoke her father. "If that vile woman who tortured you wasn't dead already, I'd be scouring the countryside for her. And once I'd caught her, I'd be making a pyre for a good old-fashioned witch-burning!"
That caused Hermione to chuckle in spite of herself. "That's a bit culturally insensitive, dad. Besides, she… she's not all bad. She was a victim of this war too. The more I learn about her, the more I sympathize. And the more certain I become that she could be saved."
Jack Granger smiled, then laughed. "Trust my Hermione to sympathize with her tormentor."
"Enough," said her mother. "Enough guilt-tripping from either of you. Jack, you are not at fault for what happened to Hermione. None of us are. And Hermione, you need to realize that there are more people who care about you than you might know. You don't have to be lonely."
"How about," Hermione nodded. "We try to get past this? Remember when I used to be home from school during holidays and got incredibly bored and dad wouldn't let me read books all day? Let's just do... dumb stuff, silly things, like in the old days. How about we order a pizza? And then watch some of dad's old crap horror films?"
"Hey, those are vintage!"
"Sure they are, Jack," her mother rolled her eyes.
"And then we go to theatre, or London Zoo, or Camden market, or maybe even a trip to Stonehenge!" said Hermione. "Just spend time together as a family, like we used to do... like I... skipped out on so often."
Apparently, her parents picked up on the hint and part of the cause of Hermione's guilt. Her father put his fingers to his chin. "Spending some time together cozied up in the safety of home and family. I think we can arrange that."
"It's decided then," her mother smiled. "But, Hermione, no more secrets, alright? You can tell us anything and everything."
"It's a promise," said Hermione, feeling a bit bad about already having broken her promise. But to explain that she was talking to a younger version of her tormentor through a magical pool which allowed her to speak to people in another time-line sounded so ludicrous even for the wizarding world that she wisely decided not to mention this to her parents for now.
They probably wouldn't understand. Still, she hoped Bellatrix was faring well with her family visit.
The downside of living in a house as big as hers was that you could wander the halls of Catterborough Woodhouse for ages until you actually ran into a person. This early in the morning, this was actually a good thing: her sisters wouldn't be up at this ungodly hour and as soon as they were up, they'd want to do things. Things like chatting, broom riding and general family stuff. All nice things, certainly, but Bellatrix still had a bit of a mission and she didn't want to return to Hermione empty-handed.
Before she headed to the library, the turned to the ground floor of the house near the back of the central building where the family chapel was. She could probably use a little luck right around now.
This was no mere muggle chapel. This was a family gathering place to honour the ancient magics. It was a small room, but mostly open space. A few stain-glass windows depicted the Crann Bethadh, the Celtic Tree of Life. Aside from that, there was a lot of maintained greenery in the chapel, staged around a small holly tree at the back. Before the holly tree was stood her family's most ancient possession: a regular, non-magical, run of the mill statue of a bearded man with a deer's antlers, sat cross-legged with a torc in one hand and a staff in the other. The offering bowl in front of the man had been emptied, it seemed, but Sebastian had placed fresh incense in the pot next to the bowl.
Bellatrix took a moment to savour the smell before she moved to a cloth bag near the statue, containing a stack of pennies. As was customary, Bellatrix used her wand to light a candle and the incense, before giving the statue a small offering of copper or tin by placing it in the offering bowl. She stood there for a moment, enjoying the smell of the incense. All members of her family… well, except her oncle… regularly made an offering of copper or tin.
Honestly, Bellatrix didn't quite know why she did it, but asking for a little luck never seemed like too much to ask for. And it was not as if this ritual took very long. Right, off to the library, then.
She walked the marble halls of the west wing which contained most of the house's rooms devoted to magical study and headed to the massive double doors leading into the library. Catterborough Woodhouse's library was sizable, and a centrepiece to the household. A massive bottom floor filled with bookcases and two story mezzanine running along the sides of the room with even more bookcases, connected to the bottom floor by twin spiral staircases. Several reading desks were placed near the entrance, along with a model globe which was almost the same size she was. Stain-glass windows let in a pleasant reading light. The floor was the finest of marble, and whatever bits of the wall weren't covered by bookcases were lined with the finest of wood panelling. The most precious of books were located behind glass. The most dangerous of books behind magical forcefields.
The only part of the library which wasn't meticulously organized was the family archive, located in the turret tower near the back of the library, but she didn't have to go there at the moment.
This library was the result of combining the collection of generations of Blacks and was painstakingly maintained by her mother. Grand-père's entire collection had practically doubled the amount of books stored here. Bellatrix thought of Hermione and how she would probably never want to leave after setting one foot in it.
"Right, Bella," she told herself. "Let's get started."
Now, Bellatrix was a studious girl and knew this library by the back of her hand, having spent many hours here in her younger days. Unfortunately, the number of books to choose from was slightly overwhelming. With the index in hand, she moved to the section of the library on ancient magical legends and found three stacks filled with hundreds of books. She bit her lip and moved on to the topic of magical forests and was confronted with four stacks filled to the brim with even more books.
Bellatrix had discovered a bit of a flaw in her plan: she only had a vague idea what to look for and trying to find it would be like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack: it could take her months to stumble upon something relevant among these sheer amounts of books. She needed something more specific, some clues of where to look.
"Think, Bella, think," she paced back and forth, putting her fingers to her lips. She could feel her anger mounting... what to do? What to do? Then, it hit her and she snapped her fingers with a smile: uncle Achille! He and grand-père had been rather close and grand-père would often share legends he'd been researching with him. If she was lucky, oncle might know. It was certainly worth a try first.
Oncle Achille's atelier was located in part of the attic of the central building of the manor house. It was the place where he worked, slept, often ate and spent most of his time. When Bellatrix entered, she could already smell the pleasant odours of fresh paint. This part of the attic stretched on for hundreds of feet, cavernous and large and walls and roof covered with so many paintings practically no part of the original wall plaster or wood panelling could be seen. Near the door stood some paintings which were all packed up for shipping to those who commissioned them, waiting to be picked up.
Her father had always called Achille a lazy bounder and a useless layabout, but Bellatrix had always thought that to be very unfair: Achille Rosier was a celebrated artist and no matter which time of day Bellatrix would enter his atelier, from the earliest of the morn to the dead of night, she would find him busy at work to a point that she wondered if the man ever even slept at all.
She surmised that her father's disdain for oncle Achille was more related to the fact that he was a pure-blood who was unmarried and childless, nor someone who was dedicated to further developing magical power. Oncle Achille was a man whom lived only for his works of creation.
Right now, her oncle was hard at work creating, as usual. The thin man, about forty years of age and with a head of wild black hair, stood with his back turned to her on the other side of the attic, slapping paint on a massive canvas with broad strokes and humming to himself. "Ah," he greeted with a thick French accent without turning around. "Ah! Salut, Bellatrix! Is it autumn break already? It seems like it was only summer a week past."
Bellatrix blinked. How did oncle do that?!
As if sensing her thoughts, oncle chuckled briefly. "It is no mystery, cherie. I saw those wedding rehearsal tents being put up. And aside from ma soeur, you are the only one who visits me up 'ere."
"Yeah," Bellatrix sighed. "Father is really pushing the importance of this wedding on me."
"Pfah! Not a creative bone in 'is body, that one," oncle Achille kept painting as Bellatrix stood next to him. She could already see the painting take shape. It was about two meters high and almost as broad. On the canvas was depicted her mother Druella along with herself and her two sisters dressed in their finery. The four of them stood smiling and looked full of zest and life. It was amazing that oncle had painted this completely from memory.
"A present for your mother's birthday," said oncle Achille. "A très magnifique family portrait."
"Father isn't in it."
"Noticed that, hm?" oncle chuckled. There was definitely no love lost between them. Bellatrix smiled for a moment. "Cherie, 'ave you been keeping up with your writing?"
"I have!" said Bellatrix. "I've been working on some new stories."
"Bon, bon," oncle nodded in approval. It was he who had encouraged her to seek a creative outlet. He'd been right when he'd told her that it would give her a way to deal with the issues in her life, and that it could turn negativity into the positivity of creation. Bellatrix's talent had not lain within the realm of painting and drawing, but rather in writing and storytelling. He'd been a willing audience for many of her early writing attempts.
"I feel like I'm getting better with every story I write," Bellatrix replied.
"It is a good feeling, no?" oncle turned his head to wink at her. "Don't let your father know, though. 'e'd likely give you a lecture. Did you know 'e warned me not to fill your 'ead with distractions before the wedding? I told 'im to go eat a baguette."
Bellatrix cocked her head sideways. "A baguette?"
"A big black fleshy vein-y baguette," oncle smirked.
Yikes. That was mental image Bellatrix could had lived without. Still, she appreciated the sentiment.
"Of course, the man 'e found for you is just as uncreative as 'e is," said oncle. "What was 'is name again? Rudolph something? Like the reindeer with the red nose, non?"
"Rodolphus. Rodolphus Lestrange," Bellatrix crossed her arms while she replied, the name still leaving a dirty taste in her mouth. "And if he thinks I'll be the meek little wife who dances to his every whim, he's got another thing coming! He's going to be faced with the fight of his life for the rest of his life! Which will be really short if I can help it!"
"Good girl," oncle smiled, but his smile quickly fell. He put down his paints and turned to her while cleaning his hands with a rag. "But, cherie, I would rather see you 'appy, non?"
Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "That's not going to happen any time soon, I think."
"Ah, don't say that, cherie," oncle shook his head and reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "There's always options. There's always 'ope. There's always... a way out."
Bellatrix pursed her lips, letting her oncle's words rolled through her mind. "Are you suggesting... I run away?"
"Oh, 'eavens no," oncle gave her an obviously faked look of shock. "I'm not saying that at all, Cherie! Just, 'ypothetically speaking, you'd do more than fine on your own if you were to. You are a talented and strong young woman, after all."
Run away? Leave her family behind? Could she do that? Should she do that? Where would she even go? The implications were just staggering.
"Cherie," said oncle, apparently sensing her distress "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," Bellatrix replied. "I... I sometimes wish you were my father instead..."
"... and my sister still your mother?" oncle hissed through his teeth. "I may be pure-blood, but I'm not that pure-blood."
"Hah, you know what I mean," Bellatrix laughed.
"I do," smiled oncle. "And I appreciate it, Cherie. 'ave you come to read me another story?"
Bellatrix shook her head. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about something, oncle."
"Oh?"
"You see, there's this girl I've met..."
"Oh, oh, oh," laughed oncle Achille. "L'amour has struck!"
Bellatrix blinked and snapped her mouth shut for a moment. "No, no, it's nothing like that. She's... she's my friend."
"Uh-huh," oncle winked.
"Oncle, please, this is serious!" Bellatrix pouted slightly.
Oncle Achille's smirk faded somewhat, but still maintained his jovial appearance. "Of course, Cherie. What may I 'elp you with?"
"My friend and I were working on a... research project," said Bellatrix. "I was hoping to find something in grand-père's library, but there's so many esoteric books on so many different topics. It's hard to know where to start. I could search for months in grand-père's library and I couldn't find a thing. Oncle, you know a lot of about tales of old. You and grand-père were very close and I know you've painted some of the tales and subjects grand-père researched. Perhaps you have some across what I seek."
"Well, you certainly 'ave my curiosity piqued, cherie," chuckled oncle. "Describe what you are looking for."
"A magical pool. About the size of a small pond and just as shallow. Located in a clearing in the forest and nestled among the roots of a long dead petrified tree. The pool becomes active and magical, but only during the witching hour, when it will emit a blue magical glow which looks like..." Bellatrix searched the many painting and finally pointed out the blue dress of an unknown lady in a nearby portrait. "... that colour! But that's not all. When you look into the pool when it's active, you do not see your own reflection. You will see the same place around you, but in the same passage of time."
Oncle Achille, rubbed his chin slightly, seemingly in deep thought trying to recall a memory of long past. "'Old on, cherie," he said and rushed to a small side-room in the attic. He moved a sliding door aside and stepped into a storage room where many older paintings were stored on racks: these were the works he wanted to keep but had no room to display for. Bellatrix watched oncle move from rack to rack until he found what he was looking for with a loud 'ahah!'. What he produced was a small 50 by 50 centimetre canvas in a frame which he handed to Bellatrix.
Curious, Bellatrix took a look at the painting and found it to be of eerie familiarity: on the canvas was depicted a dark clearing in a deep forest of evergreens. A pool nestled in the roots of a dead tree illuminated the clearing while a unicorn was taking a drink from the water, its reflection not being white of skin but rather black as coal with glowing blue eyes. No. Not one set of eyes. A cluster of three eyes on each side of the head, close together. How strange…
A label on the frame read 'Réflexions sur la forêt noire'.
"Reflections upon the Black Forest," Bellatrix muttered.
Oncle nodded. "The Schwartzwald, to be more precise. Germany's biggest and deepest forest. I don't quite remember the tale itself, it's been so long ago after all. What I do remember is that, while rare, these pools sometimes show up in forests of a deeply magical nature. This painting was based on a folk tale papa was studying which resonated with me enough to paint this."
"Folk tales surrounding magical forests. Schwartzwald," Bellatrix muttered while being unable to rip her eyes away from the painting. "I think those some good angles for me to get started."
"Keep the painting," said oncle. "It's only gathering dust 'ere and, who knows, it might 'elp you impress your girlfriend."
"My friend," Bellatrix pressed, narrowing her eyes a little.
"Pardon," chuckled oncle with a wink. Still, Bellatrix was most grateful. She'd been given the lead she needed and couldn't wait to get started. The plucky young curly-haired witch took another look at the painting. There was something rather unsettling about the reflection of the unicorn in the pool. Perhaps she'd find out more later.
Furthermore, this might keep her focused on something else than those damnable wedding rehearsals. She couldn't wait to get started. "Thanks, oncle!" she said while putting the painting under her arm and turning towards the door.
"Bonsoir, cherie!" oncle called after her. "And think of all the kisses your 'ard work will earn you!"
"ONCLE!"
"I kid, cherie, I kid!" oncle chuckled. "Or am I? Describe 'er for me."
Bellatrix crossed her arms and gave her oncle a pouty expression. Eventually, she just let out a sigh, picturing Hermione in her head. "Long brown hair, cascading down her back," she spoke softly. "Deep brown eyes, expressive eyebrows. Creamy white skin, somewhat less pale than myself. Fiercely intelligent, but somewhat unsure of herself. Slender, a bit taller than I. Likes to wear a school uniform even when she doesn't have to. Has this oddly bossy quality to her voice."
Her oncle laughed now. "And when she speaks, you want to listen to 'er all night, don't you, cherie?"
"Oncle," Bellatrix started again, feeling a little dejected.
"Right, I'll stop," Achille replied softly. "Still, you 'ave a great eye for detail. Maybe I should paint this mysterious friend of yours sometimes, non?"
Her oncle was merely teasing her, of course. He probably didn't realize how rare it was for her to have an actual friend. She said her goodbyes to her uncle and made her way back to the library. With the index at hand, she crossed referenced books about the German Black Forest and ancient legends and had a bit of an epiphany when she regarded the painting uncle had given her. The painting had been made in 1931, some twenty years before she'd been born. Now, she knew her uncle to be a capricious artist, someone who quickly lost interest in ideas if not executed quickly enough, so she was certain that if grand-père had shared the tale with him, it would have to have been that same year.
So, Bellatrix dug up her grandfather's diaries and research notes from the private section of the library for 1931 in the turret tower. In itself, that was a task as well, considering grand-père had been a very prolific researcher. Thankfully, Bellatrix was fluent in French and poured through the notebooks until she found it.
Elated, she came across references to an ancient legend with scant few actual evidence to back it up, but what was in the notes described the phenomenon to a tee. A broad smile was still on her face as she dug up the book referenced by the notes and turned to the correct chapter. And there it was: the story of their pool, lain out in a book from 1878... ninety years ago. Another multiple of three. Coincidence was becoming less likely.
So, she had her grandfather's research, a book describing the legend and her oncle's painting. Quite a bounty to share with Hermione. Her friend was bound to be impressed.
Her thoughts drifted for a moment... was she trying to impress Hermione? Why?
She pushed the odd thought to the back of her mind and let her hand slide over the illustration of the book, reading the name underneath the picture. "Fae Mirror," she whispered.
"BBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" sounded just as a heavy weight fell on her back and two hands covered her eyes.
"AAAAAAH!" Bellatrix exclaimed, rose from her seat and started struggling to throw the unseen assailant off her back, twirling around while the figure held on for dear life. Finally, she did manage and the person whom had glomped her fell to the floor. Bellatrix snarled and twisted around, drawling and aiming her wand.
"What?!" Bellatrix shouted when she saw who it was. "CISSY?! WHAT THE FU... WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT JUMPING ON MY BACK?!"
Bellatrix caught herself as swearing was frowned upon in this household. Meanwhile, Andie was doubled over and leaned against the door-frame, looking ready to piss herself from laughter. "Oh, Bella," Andie laughed. "You should see the look on your face."
Cissy was giggling too now, pointing at her.
"Seriously," Bellatrix replied, letting out a chuckle of her own now. "What's with this current trend of jumping on your older sister's back?"
"It's just funny," Cissy said. "And stop being so boring, Bella! Why are you in the library anyway? It's holiday! No more school!"
Bellatrix felt a twinge of panic and rushed back to the table, quickly scooping up the books and stuffing them into her book bag. "Just a project for school, nothing special. Anyway, it's done now."
Cissy accepted this answer, but Andie gave her a somewhat suspicious look. Bellatrix turned her gaze away and refused to met her eyes: her younger sister had a strange knack for figuring out when she was up to something. She slung the bag over her back and decided to act casual. "Come, let me drop this off in my room and we'll go have some fun. How about we set up an obstacle course in the backyard? Let's see which one of us can get the best times without touching any of the rings!"
"Oh, you're on!" Cissy raised her chin.
"Cissy," Andie smirked. "Bella is the Slytherin team star chaser!"
"Yeah, but I'm fast and nimble!" said Cissy. "And Quidditch doesn't have you flying through rings."
"Oh, you're on," Bellatrix grinned: she had done what she had come to do. Now she'd have the rest of the week to spend with her family for a fun holiday with her sisters... likely her last.
Hermione groaned as she lay on the sofa in the living room of her childhood home, content and uncomfortable at the same time. Content from having a belly full of junk food and uncomfortable for having eaten an entire pizza which had clearly exceeded the capacity of her stomach.
Today had been a very good day: walking around the Heath, past the greens of Parliament Hill and the magnificent interiors of Kenwood House. Though Kenwood was a museum, Hermione realized that Bellatrix actually lived in much a stately manor. Today had been a trip down memory lane, a reminder of simpler and perhaps even better times.
Then it time to head right back home for pizza and Predator with her parents. Granted, she barely paid any attention to the movie itself, but the pizza was absolutely delicious. During the film, she found her thoughts often drifting to the magic pool. What was it? How did it work? What was its purpose? Did it even have a purpose?
Though Hermione knew she shouldn't dwell on it too much… Bellatrix was in a far better position to find clearer answers on her end, after all… it was simply hard to let go. Instead, Hermione simply stretched on the sofa, doing her best to get comfortable.
"Hermione dear," sounded the voice of her mother, accompanied by a pat on the leg. "If you're feeling tired or not well, you should probably lie down in bed. I've never seen you eat so much before!"
"Comfort food. I really needed some," Hermione chuckled at first, before regretting her words. Her mum was never a particular fan of gallows humour. Her dad was, though… probably not when it pertained to his own daughter. "Sorry, mum, I didn't mean…"
"It's fine, dear," said her mum. "Today was good."
"It was," smiled Hermione. And she meant it. She had felt a little like her old self today. Just a tad. "Where did dad go?"
"Oh," her mother chuckled to herself. "Alf from next door came by. There was a package delivery while we were out. From Forbidden Planet."
"Ah," smiled Hermione, her curiosity piqued. Shifted slightly, her stomach protesting as she moved to get up from the sofa. It took her a moment to steady herself until the pizza settled in her obstinate stomach before she could make her way up the stairs to her dad's hobby room. It was there where she found him, surrounded by a healthy mix of Stormtroopers, Enterprises, Batman paraphernalia and other assorted figures: the result of a lifetime of collecting. In fact, Hermione was surprised that her father hadn't claimed her room yet to store part of his massive collection. Perhaps her mum had put a stop to that.
"Oh, hello there, puppet," her father said as he had just put the remains of a box on the room and had just removed some items from its packaging. Considering her father was moving figures about on his dedicated Dalek shelf, she had an inkling what it could be. Indeed, it was a three-pack of different coloured ones and he was finding a good home for them.
"New Daleks?" Hermione asked.
By now, her mum had settled herself in the doorframe and was shaking her head. "Honestly, Jack, I don't get it. They're all the same."
"Obviously not," Jack shook his head. "Look, they're all different colours and sizes!"
"But they're still all the same!" said her mum. "Except that one, I guess. The little man there."
Hermione chuckled. "That's Davros, mum. Even I know that."
It was then that she and her father shared a look. Her father's expression saying 'your mum just doesn't get it' and Hermione's expression saying 'quit trying to explain it to mum, its pointless'.
"You two are absolutely terrible," said her mum, a wry grin tugging at the corners of her lips before withdrawing. Still, this was good. This was a familiar place, something she shared with her father. Even when she was a little girl, she understood that these weren't toys to be played with, but she marvelled at some of the things regardless. It something she shared with her father, and remembered sitting on his lap as a little girl while he piddled with his home computer. Of course, the ZX Spectrum of old was now displayed on one of the top shelves as a fond relic of old and a Compaq PC had taken its place, but the feelings were still the same.
This room make her feel comfortable. Safe.
"Any new pieces since I last was here?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, yes, many!" said her father with his usual enthusiasm. "Wait, let me show you this Captain Kirk figure I picked up from…"
Hermione only listened partially while her father told her of his fierce and relentless eBay bidding war. Instead, she focused entirely on being surrounded with good memories.
Chapter 10: Family outingsChapter Text
"Is she back yet?! Is she back yet?!" Cissy shouted as she was restlessly shifting from the sofa to the window, then to another window, then back to the sofa, only to rush back to the window. Sat in their common room, located between all three of their rooms, Bellatrix simply watched a relentlessly energetic Cissy with a bemused smirk.
"Are you bouncing?" Bellatrix chuckled. "I do believe you're actually bouncing."
"Oh, be quiet, you rotter," Cissy stuck out her tongue before turning back to glue herself to the window. "I'm excited. I can't believe you're not!"
"I am!" Bellatrix laughed. "But bouncing up and down and shrieking like a concert girl isn't going to get Andie back here any faster! Find something to occupy your time with. It'll pass quicker."
"I just can't!" Cissy wailed and threw herself on one of their sofas, pressing her head against the pillows while letting out a muffled scream.
Though clearly amused, Bellatrix felt that Andie was far more courageous than her to a point that she considered there might be a bit of foolhardy Gryffindor within her: for it was Andie who braved a visit to Muggle inner city Manchester. All on her own. Without her sisters or any wizard to rely upon. If Bellatrix hadn't known that Andie could handle it, she never would allowed her to go and certainly not for a guilty pleasure the sisters shared.
Cissy merrily continued bouncing until she finally announced Andie's return with shriek which almost made her eardrums burst. "THERE SHE IS! THERE SHE IS!"
"Quiet down!" Bellatrix hissed, looking over her shoulder. Of course, Catterborough Woodhouse was so large that it had mostly empty corridors on the best of days, but the laws of the universe would state that if the sisters were doing something they shouldn't, it was increasingly likely that either their parents or Sebastian would be nearby. And even though Andie was now on the premises, she would still have to run a gauntlet before she'd be back at their rooms. So, Cissy did as she was told, sat down while biting her lip and kept as silent as possible. And yet she was still bouncing ever so slightly.
"Seriously, how did they ever let you in Slytherin?" Bellatrix joked, earning herself a stuck out tongue in her general direction.
Thankfully, all worries where for nought as Andie came bursting through the door still wearing her muggle clothing and bearing a grin so broad it almost snapped her face in half. Of course, Cissy was the first to pounce. "Did you get it?" she bounced again. "Didyougetitdidyougetitdidyougetit?!"
Andie said nothing, merely held up a paper bag before fishing out a small muggle vinyl record, slid it out of its cover and held it up. On it was the depiction of a green apple.
"Play it!" Cissy demanded and proceeded to almost drag Andie and Bella along to Andie's room.
"Hey, ow! Watch the hair!" Bellatrix demanded, pulling herself loose from Cissy's grip and sauntered in after her sisters. Andie's room was a lot different than hers or Cissy's. For one, the ceiling was sloped making the room seem a lot smaller, but Andie didn't mind as it made it feel more cozy to her. Adorned with light pastel colours, the room just screamed 'middle sister' as she had chosen it to stand out from Cissy's bright pinks or Bella's darker browns and greys. Andie put down her bag and pulled her record player from under her bed to set it up. After pulling her wand, she aimed it at a painting of four cats and transfigured it into its true form: a concert poster of The Beatles.
Bellatrix smirked. All three of them liked the Beatles. Who could not? In fact, it was their little rebellion: if their parents knew that they were listening to muggle music there'd be hell to pay. Still, this was a little secret the three of them had as sisters. While Andie was setting up her record player, Bellatrix did her part by putting a silencing charm on the room while Cissy bounced rather impatiently on Andie's bed.
While Andie was busy, Bellatrix took the single cover and took a look. "Hey Jude," she said after reading the title.
"Yeah, brand new," Andie beamed. "Just released last week! I wouldn't even have known about if Ted hadn't told me about it."
"Who's Ted?" asked Bellatrix.
"Oh," Andie waved dismissively. "Boy in my year. You wouldn't know him. The important thing is, we now have something ace to add to our collection."
Said collection being a copy of every album and single the Beatles had ever released, cleverly disguised as vinyl records of innocuous and boring wizarding bands. The three sisters sat cross-legged around the record player, the silencing charm allowing for a good volume.
Hey, Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Already, she could tell it was a very good song and her sisters were already getting into it... swooning as young teens were wont to do. But Bellatrix... Bellatrix found her mind wandering. The entire song had started to remind her of her own situation: how her carefree life would soon come to an end. How the great times spent with her sisters were finite and fewer in number every day. It hit her like a punch to the gut.
Hey, Jude, don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better
For some reason... that made her think of Hermione. She could see her brown tresses floating by in her minds eye, seeing her face floating in front of her. Her smile. The kind of smile on a girl who was always willing to listen. She hadn't talked to her in days now and it was frightening to think on just how much she missed her.
Hey, Jude, don't let me down
You have found her, now go and get her
She shook her head. She shouldn't think these things. Hermione was her friend. And they were literally thirty years apart.
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you'll begin to make it better
Once again, Bellatrix was lost in thought. About her future, Hermione, Lestrange and whatever would come after her ill-fated wedding. When she looked up, she could only smile as the song had whipped up and Andie and Cissy were both loudly singing along with the 'nah, nah nah, nah's. Well, they were easy lyrics, at least, and she chuckled when Cissy still managed to mess them up regardless.
The song finally ended and Andie stopped the player. "That was fantastic!" Andie raved. "But you were being rather quiet, Bella!"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I was enjoying that song until you two philistines started crowing along. It's like listening to two hippogryphs mating!"
"Hey!" Cissy pouted.
"Oh, you rotter!" Andie laughed. "You'd better be singing along next time, if you know what's good for you!"
"Again!" Cissy demanded.
"Not yet," said Andie as she held up the magically warmed bag. "I got the other thing too!"
"Doner kebab?!" Cissy asked... another forbidden thing in the house.
"Doner kebab!" Andie grinned and started unpacking.
Bellatrix couldn't help but smile: spending time with her sisters chatting, gossipping and eating junk food while listening to the Beatles on repeat. Yes, this would be another one of those memorable moment spent as sisters. Times which were finite and would never return once lost.
Today had been a good day. Coming to visit her parents had been a wonderful decision on her part. They had spent the entire day together, enjoying everything which London had to offer. Restaurants, fun walks, listening to some of the nutters at the Speaker's Corner in Hyde park, London Aquarium. Today, she had felt like the old Hermione again; curious, full of life and enjoyment.
Well, that ended quickly when it was time to go to bed. Here, in her room, she simply lay staring at the ceiling as sleep refused to come. That sense of soul-crushing loneliness had returned. That sense of abandonment. That sense of having no one.
She hated it.
Oh god, she hated it so much.
No matter what she did, no matter what she wanted, no matter what she told herself, it always relentlessly returned, sometimes tenfold after a good day. Unless she kept her mind of things.
So, that was just what she did. Hermione tried some reading. It didn't help. Then she tried to listen to some music by turning on the radio, but found the UK singles chart as insipid and uninspiring as ever. Finally, she simply threw the blankets off and found her slippers. A few moments later, she was seated at her desk and started scribbling on a notepad. If sleep didn't find her, perhaps working on her herbology thesis might help. Though she had left all her notes at Hogwarts, she could at least work on the intro and the structure of her work.
She got through three paragraphs when, to her chagrin, she realized she had left the radio on. She was about to get up to switch it off until the refrain of some new pop song caught her ear.
Don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, baby
And I don't wanna miss a thing
Hermione frowned. For some reason, that made her think of Bellatrix. Bellatrix, the woman whom had tortured her... and the girl whom had become her vast friend despite the odds. In so many ways, she was still an enigma to her. And, to her own surprise, she found that she missed their conversations.
No.
Her.
Hermione missed her.
Quite a lot, in fact. The thought gave her pause and she put down her pen for a moment. The song continued in the background while Hermione closed her eyes and saw Bellatrix' smiling face. So different from the evil woman she had once faced.
A moment later, Hermione shook her head, tossed her pencil to the desk and walked over to the radio to switch it off.
"What a crap song," Hermione muttered to herself and sauntered back to her desk. There was work to be done, after all.
Bellatrix and her sisters stood at the railing of a large magically warded pen looking upon the Snowdonia mountains of Wales. Both she and her sisters were in awe of the magnificent old Welsh Green which had landed right in front of them. More young wizards and witches came running to the railing to have a look.
Truth be told, Bellatrix had never seen a dragon from this up close before. She could count every scale, see every scar, look him right in the eye.
It was obvious that this old dragon was used to being around humans and was a bit of a show-off. He spread his wings wide, threw his neck up and unleashed a massive ball of flame into the air. Bellatrix, along with the other young ones gathered, let out a gasp in appreciation for this magnificent beast.
So far, the family visit to the Welsh Dragon Sanctuary had been a marvellous success. Even oncle had gone with them: he stood near them at the railing looking at the dragon and then the sketchbook he was holding. The charcoal sped over the page as oncle Achille was working on getting the muscle tone of the dragon's neck just right now that this beast had come in for a close-up.
As family visits went, this one was special in that oncle had joined them. A rare occasion. Perhaps it had something to do with father having business with the Sanctuary head of staff, dragging mother along with him and oncle had been asked by mother to be their chaperon.
Unfortunately, that meant her father hadn't been there with them for the most part.
"Bella!" Cissy yelled and pulled on her purse. "Give me some galleons! I want to give him a treat!"
"Right, right, calm down," Bellatrix said and handed Cissy a few coins. Immediately, her little sister ran to a big red dispenser and inserted the coins. A few moments later, the carcass of a slaughtered pig slid down a funnel and landed right in front of the old dragon. The dragon didn't waste any time, bending its snout down, grabbing the pig to throw it into the air where it deftly caught it and crushed it between his jaws. After his meal, he let out an appreciative bellow and rewarded the crowd with another big ball off fire before taking off.
"Now, that dragon is definitely a show-man," Andie laughed as she used a pair of binoculars to watch him fly off.
After all the excitement, the four of them went into the cafe next to the visitor's center for some tea and scones. Freshly baked, the scones smelled wonderful and, after a liberal application of jam and clotted cream, Bellatrix found out they tasted delicious too. While Cissy and Andie were chatting and raving about their dragon encounter, Bellatrix fished a leather-bound notebook from her purse and folded it open. Though originally meant as a diary, she used it as a notebook to jot down ideas and work on drafts of stories: and today, she had gotten a few ideas on how to work dragons into a story she'd been planning. Her quill diligently in hand, she quickly wrote down the ideas in short incomplete sentences before they had a chance to sink into the misty mires of an eager mind.
"Something you're working on, cherie?" Achille asked.
"Oh, a new story?" Andie asked.
Bellatrix looked up. "No, just some... ideas. Nothing yet."
"Oh, come on, surely there is something you 'ave to share, non?" Achille winked while Andie smiled.
Bellatrix gave the both of them a wary look. "Well, there is something. It's not finished, though, I'm not sure if I should..."
"I don't want to hear a scary story!" Cissy pouted.
"See?" Bellatrix tried.
"Cissy never wants to hear a scary story, because she's a stupid baby," Andie rolled her eyes. "Come on, Bella!"
Bellatrix bit her lip. "I don't know..."
"Come on, we're family. We won't judge," said oncle.
"Are you kidding?" Bellatrix huffed. "You lot are my harshest critics. But... fine! If I don't, I won't hear the end of it all week."
Bellatrix leafed through her book looking for the first draft of a story she'd been working on. The pages it was written on had seen a lot of corrections and words scratched out. When she was done revising, she would copy it to another book where she kept all her final versions, but it wasn't yet ready for that. "Okay. I call this one 'Obsession'."
"It all started when Fraser, my neighbour, tripped over a rock in his backyard. He, like myself, has been a lifelong resident of the township of Cobblepot, a wizard-only community near Somerset. Nothing much happened in our sleepy little town. It is telling that someone tripping over a rock is considered a source of commotion.
'Damn yer eyes,' I heard him yell while hanging up the laundry and came to investigate. He'd been tilling the earth to plant a new batch of roses and had come across an oddly shaped rock. It was obsidian, black as coal and hard as granite. Fraser cursed and cursed as he tried his wand to lift the rock up from his garden and levitate it over his fence. The rock, however, never budged. It was not as if his magic was ineffectual, but rather that it was too large to move: it was then that we realized that what we were seeing was only a small part of it.
'Need any help?' I asked, more out of politeness than anything. Fraser gave me a nod and soon enough, the two of use were digging out the rock. We figured that if we freed it from the soil, the two of us could apply our wands to it.
After about half an hour of digging, we noticed two things. First, the rock was hewn and smooth as silk. Second, there seemed to be no end of it. The top of the rock was shaped as a point and expanded outward slightly as the soil around it was removed."
Bellatrix looked up from her story to see Andie looking at her eagerly, waiting for her to continue. Cissy was cuddled up against Andie while oncle had found inspiration and was sketching. So far, it was all going well.
'Figures', said Fraser with a gruff, defeated voice. 'My bloody house is right on top of a bloody graveyard or somethin'.'
Clearly the two of us wouldn't be enough to dig this thing out. Fraser decided to call upon the help of the townsfolk. No less than an hour later, two of us had become twelve while mrs. Miggins was kindly providing us hard workers with tea and biscuits. We started working in shifts, with one group digging and another doing the wandwork to move the soil away from the yard.
The sun was about to set when we realized we had something special on our hands. As the light of the evening sun shone upon the rock, green magical runes appeared, glowing with faint power. They were runes of the likes none of us had ever seen before and didn't even remotely resembled the iconography our ancestors used.
'There's new magic down there,' Fraser told me and the others. 'I feel it in my bones!'
'New magic'... those words went like a whisper through the entire gathering. Still, it was decided that we would rest for the night and continue the work tomorrow.
I slept rather uneasily, dreams of the rock and runes. Calling out to me. The lure of the new magic. Or is that old new magic? Regardless, when I opened my eyes, I found myself standing next to the rock, shovel still in hand. I had been digging. And it was daylight. All around me, dozens of my fellow witches and wizards were hard at work on freeing the rock from its earthly prison. The entire town was here, including children and the elderly. A hole around the rock had been dug at least ten meters deep, but the end was still not in sight.
Bellatrix looked up again. Cissy was really trembling now, but then again she was a baby who was scared of her own shadow. Andie had her eyes locked on her as she sipped her tea.
I could see what it was then: not a mere rock, but a carved obelisk standing fierce and ominous, covered with runes now glowing an angry green. Its magic still lay far beneath the Earth. I could feel it... and its pull. It wanted us to find it. The obelisk wanted us to benefit from it!
And so we worked. And we worked. And we worked. Around me, the bodies of some of my fellow villagers lay either exhausted or dead. No matter. Their sacrifice will be remembered after we claim the new magic.
'New magic... new magic... new magic...' we all chanted in unison. The obelisk loves us. The obelisk wants to bestow its gifts on us because it loves us. All we have to do is to free it, so we can love it too.
So we dug. And we dug. Until, finally, we found the doorway. Cavernous and ominous, but oddly welcoming. The obelisk stood freed now, proud and fierce with runes aglow. The new magic is ahead of us now and we are ready to step inside as a group. Some of use have gathered the bodies of the fallen so they might benefit even in death.
Yet... part of me hesitates as I take a slight hesitant step into the darkness. A part of me is filled with mortal dread, yet I cannot fathom why. Like a cow that has glimpsed the inside of a slaughterhouse, I cannot grasp the context or nature of my doom, but I know enough to be filled with mortal dread.
But any fear is mercifully stripped away from me with every step taken as the pull of the new magic gets ever stronger.
'New magic... new magic...' we all chant as we all step into the obelisk's loving embrace. And forget everything."
"Whoa," Andie smiled. "That was a good one!"
"Great," Cissy muttered. "A mind-controlling obelisk. I'll be having nightmares all week!"
"That was good, cherie," replied Achille.
Bellatrix bit her lip a little. "It's, uhm, just a few scribblings."
"Don't be modest, Bella," Andie chuckled. "It doesn't suit you."
All the while Achille had been working his sketchbook again and turned it around to show the girls: a quick and dirty sketch of a group of people working hard to dig out a rather ominous looking obelisk out of the earth. Bellatrix smiled when she saw it, getting somewhat excited that her oncle might be turning that sketch into a painting later.
Unfortunately, all bliss quickly came to an end when their parents entered the cafe. Their business apparently concluded, Cygnus and Druella came in. Unfortunately, her father took only one look at the book in Bellatrix' hand and the sketch on the table and turned towards Achille, who swiftly rose from the table and stood between them. Cygnus' voice as low and filled with anger. "Why am I not surprised to find you filling my daughters' heads with nonsense?"
"Nonsense?" Achille crossed his arms. "Creativity. Enjoyment. Are these nonsense now, hm?"
"By Merlin's beard, you are a waste of space, Achille!" Cygnus roared. "You sire no offspring! You don't expand magical knowledge! All you do is paint all bloody day long without a goddamn care in the world!"
Bellatrix grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes and shot forward. "That's not true! Oncle is a celebrated artist! He creates beautiful things! What have you ever created?!"
Oncle held out his arm in front of Bellatrix's chest and slowly herded her back, away from her father. "Cherie!" he spoke, silencing her.
Though momentarily stricken by Bellatrix' words, Cygnus merely sighed and shook his head. "Again your nasty habit of poisoning my own children's minds against me rears its ugly head. I shouldn't be surprised," Cygnus sighed.
Unfortunately, despite Achille keeping the two of them apart, Bellatrix stood close enough for her father to make a grab for her book. "Hey!" Bellatrix protested while her father held it.
"This needs to stop!" her father demanded while he held up the book, just out of reach. "Bellatrix, you must focus on your future and not drown yourself in idle fantasies! Or you'll end up just like him! A useless layabout who wastes his days locked away alone in an attic globbing paint on a bit of canvas!"
Bellatrix almost chuckled: her father had no idea just how appealing what he had just described sounded to her. Regardless, that notebook contained all her recent work and plenty of story ideas and she was loathe to lose it. She was about to plead for its return when oncle Achille took a few steps towards her father until he was so close to him that they were mere inches away. There was a calm yet dangerous look on Achille's face, a look Bellatrix had never seen before.
"Give... it... back..." oncle Achille hissed through clenched teeth.
"J'en ai assez!" Druella shouted at the top of her lungs. "Can't we 'ave a simple family outing without the two of you 'aving a go at each other?! Just once?! Cygnus, give Bellatrix 'er book back!"
"Ella!"
"Do it!" Druella demanded. "Mon dieu, it's just a few stories! Bellatrix writing some frightening tales isn't going to ruin her life! We both know it's not about her stories either, Cygnus!"
Cygnus, now fairly enraged, thrust the flat of the book into Bellatrix's chest and stomped out of the cafe, apparently to calm down. Bellatrix took hold of her prize and quickly put it back in her purse while oncle and her mother looked at each other. "Achille," Druella sighed. "Must you always antagonize Cygnus so?"
"Hm," Achille rolled his eyes. "Maybe if he'd stop being an English asshole, I'd stop taunting 'im."
"I'd... I'd better go after him," Druella sighed. "Watch the girls a bit longer, non?"
And so the four of them sat the table in silence for a bit, the outburst having put a bit of a damper on the cheer. Cissy was actually trembling a bit, while Andie stared in her tea. Bellatrix turned to her oncle. "Why did you let him yell at you like that?" she asked.
Achille chuckled. "Eh. 'Appens when two people are as different as I and your father," he said. "'E's right. I never 'ad children. Never wanted to. Too much 'assle. That's fine in France, but English pure-bloods rather look down on that. Worse thing is, is that 'e's doing all of this out love and wants the best for you three... and this is apparently what 'e thinks is the best for you. Your father fears 'aving me around will 'ave you three turn into me."
"That's not so bad," Andie replied.
Achille chuckled. "Don't let your father 'ear you say that."
Bellatrix let out a sigh. Now that the commotion was over, she sank back into the booth and popped the last bit of scone in her mouth. After crewing for a bit, she shook her head. "So much for our fun family gathering today."
London Zoo was just as Hermione remembered it. When she was a little girl, she loved coming here with parents or the few friends she had, staring wide eyed and full of awe at the elephants or the giraffes, pointing at the lions or laughing at the monkeys.
Nostalgia was a powerful force and being here with her parents, surrounded in a place she had loved in her youth, was making her feel as if she was a human being again after the major setback she had had last night.
Hermione enjoyed leaning on the railing to watch into the kangaroo enclosure. As the animals hopped around, the young witch couldn't help but smile at their antics. With the exception of one bad moment, for the past few days she had spent with her parents she felt like she had been slowly crawling up out of a pit to take a gasp of breath as some sense of normality.
It was the way she felt whenever she was talking to Trix, oddly enough. Strange how it had taken this experience at the zoo with her parents to realize that. For now, however, she wouldn't question either and would simply enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted. Truth be told, part of her never wanted this day to ever end.
They moved to the reptile house, undoubtedly passing the enclosure where Harry had first discovered his magical abilities. Unlike other most girls her age, she had never minded her cold-blooded scaly friends. As a child, she had begged her parents for a bearded dragon as a pet. Unfortunately between her mother's fear of anything with scales and her father allergies, a pet of any kind had never been in the cards while growing up.
It was getting near closing time now and she and her parents were slowly moving towards the exit which, conveniently and cynically, forced them to move through the gift-shop first. They would have dinner at a fancy Japanese restaurant and then maybe watch a film at home. All-in-all, today was a very good day.
"It's good to see some colour come back to your cheeks, puppet," her father smiled when they stopped at the penguin enclosure for a moment. Together they watched the birds as they glided through the water below them.
"I've been doing a little better the past few days," replied Hermione.
"I am loathe to send you back to that horrible school," said her father.
"Jack..." her mother started.
Her father ignored her mother. "Won't you stay with us a little longer?"
Hermione shook her head. "I do have to return to school. Finish my coursework. You know I can never leave anything unfinished."
"Why not?" Jack muttered. "Your other friends did. When they left you there."
"That's not fair dad," said Hermione, her voice sincere. "They have lives of their own and they went through the same thing I did. I don't begrudge them anything."
Hermione knew that was a lie. Hermione knew that she felt abandoned, in a somewhat irrational way. Her father seemed pensive, but Hermione had one more thing to add. "Besides, I won't be alone," Hermione started as the three of them moved towards the gift shop. "There is... someone."
"Oh?" asked her mother, her interest obviously piqued "Someone we have met?"
"No," Hermione shook her head. "There's this girl. It's... complicated."
"A girl, hm?" her father chuckled.
"Not like that!" Hermione admonished him with a brief stare. "She's... a friend. We talk often. She... she and I are a lot alike in many ways and very different in others. I rather look forward to talking to her again. I always do."
She couldn't help but notice her parents exchanging another look, causing Hermione to narrow her eyes. "It's not like that!" she pressed home.
"It's alright if it is, sweetie," said her mother, but a harsh glare from Hermione silenced further discussion.
"Well, at least it's good to know you won't feel alone," said her father. "Having a friend or otherwise will really help you."
Her father hit it right on the nail there: ever since she had met Trix, the younger Bellatrix, she had been feeling a lot better. And maybe, just maybe, she really was helping herself by helping Trix. The thought alone brought a smile to her face, a little something that didn't go unnoticed by her parents just as they stepped through the gift-shop and were met with terribly overpriced knick-knacks. Around them, children were yelling at their parents for stuffed of plastic animals. Hermione didn't really see anything which captured her fancy, but she did want to have a reminder of the fun day. Perhaps one of those ballcaps with the London Zoo logo on it or one of the small coin purses. Something useful too.
"I got something nice for you," Hermione heard and almost had her jaw drop to the ground when she saw her father holding a life-sized plush Siberian tiger in his hands.
"Dad!"
"You've always wanted one when you were little," said her father. "Now I'm getting you one. A little late, certainly, but better late than never."
"Dad, that thing costs three-hundred quid!"
"So? Is me own money, innit?" said her father and pushed the tiger in her hands, almost knocking her over in fact. The tiger was very soft and fluffy, but also quite heavy. "Now you'll have something to cuddle at night, even if your girlfriend won't."
"Trix is not my girlfriend!" Hermione protested, almost involuntary rubbing her cheek against the soft fluffy tiger while her father paid for it at the till. Her expression softened quickly. "Thanks dad, mum. For the tiger and for spending the week with me. I really needed it."
"Next time, bring your friend," said her mother. "We'd love to meet her."
Hermione wasn't quite sure how to tell her that her friend didn't even live in the same time period as she did. Still, she supposed she appreciated the sentiment. "Perhaps, one day," replied Hermione as she left the Zoo holding her tiger in front of her. "Uhm, dad, do we have somewhere to put this thing?"
"Hm," said her father. "I was about to say we put it in the boot until we get back from the restaurant, but I just remembered we came here by tube. Did not think this through, did I?"
"Let's just get an extra seat at the table when we get to the restaurant," her mother helpfully suggested while Hermione slung the tiger over her shoulder, almost causing her to tip over.