Chapter 13: An Unseen SolutionChapter Text
Hermione holds back a yawn, head in her hands and elbows resting on the table.
"Tiggy?"
The elf appears with a pop. And then crosses its arms and glares at her. "Yes?"
Oh. Not even a Miss? Maybe they know she's not a pureblood and are just as bad as Bellatrix when it comes to muggleborns.
She sits up properly.
"Umm, hello, Tiggy. My name's Hermione. Hermione Granger. I…I was hoping you could tell me which books aren't cursed. So I can read some."
The house-elf stares into her eyes. Hermione tries to remember to blink.
"You is not touching the books. They is belonging to Mistress Bellatrix. Tiggy is not letting you steal them."
Steal? "I don't want to steal them! I want to read them, to help Bellatrix! We're trying to find information about…time travel…I think."
What even is Bellatrix researching?
The elf narrows its eyes at her, and then slowly reaches out a hand.
Oh. Umm…
She takes the hand, gently.
And then grips it with all her might as she finds herself hanging off the edge of a cliff, only the elf stopping her from plunging into the inky black ocean far below.
"Ahh! What are you doing? Help me!"
"Why is you in the library?"
The sound of waves crashes around them. Hermione tries to find a foothold on the cliff edge, but there's nothing to grip, and some stone crumbles and falls.
"I told you I– well I don't know! I just followed Bellatrix, she wouldn't tell me what she's planning!"
"You is following Mistress? Spying?"
Hermione feels sick, her head spinning in shock and heart pounding.
"I wasn't spying! I've been living with her, she's using my memories for some research. Please!"
The wind whips her hair over her face, leaving her blind, hand slipping as she panics.
She needs to think. To figure out what the elf wants. House-elves are loyal. This one is old. It must have been with Bellatrix for a long time. And it joked with Bellatrix, so it isn't scared of her. Doesn't hate her.
"I'm trying to help her! I won't hurt her, I promise. She took me here."
"Tiggy is watching. Tiggy is seeing Mistress try to silence you. Not let you touch the books."
The elf lowers her further and she swings against stone, scraping her free hand as she tries to grab on.
Very protective elf. Okay. Maybe…
"I know, she's stubborn. She's trying to do this all by herself, she thinks she can fix this alone, but she can't! She's strong but she needs help. I'm just trying to help her. She's scared, but not of me. Of something else that we need to figure out together. I won't let her silence me, and I'm not leaving her. Take me back!"
She grits her teeth and glares up at the elf.
Who grins at her gummily. "Oh, Tiggy likes this one. Yes, this one is being very good."
And in an instant, Hermione finds herself sat back where she started, in front of the fire.
The elf clicks their fingers, and she's completely warm and dry, and then clicks again and a pile of books separate off from the others to sail to a stop in front of her.
"These will not be cursing you, Miss Hermione. You be helping Mistress Bellatrix now. But not with Time Travel. With hiding. Invisibility. This is what Mistress Bellatrix be looking for."
Hermione is still shaking, gripping the chair and steadying her breath. What kind of insane—
Tiggy disappears with a pop, and Bellatrix flies out from one of the corridors. Not the one she entered, and with a pile of books hovering along behind her.
She jumps off the broom as she nears the floor, which shoots back up the chimney, and walks over to sprawl across an armchair, closer to the fire. Hermione just watches her for a moment, waiting for her heartbeat to calm down.
What was—
How did—
House-elves are much stronger than she'd expected. How in Merlin's name did— The magic! The power!
Lestrange huffs and throws a book high into the air, reaching for another one and turning sideways to dangle her legs over an armrest.
She'd known house-elves were powerful, of course. Even days ago, Dobby had done so much for her without blinking an eye. He'd even—
Oh!
Hermione jolts to her feet, her chair skidding back. Bellatrix turns to scowl at her, almost upside down in the chair at this point.
Hermione's shakes her head, ducking a flying book at the last second and then smiling. "If we need to preserve the timeline and not be seen…you want us to be invisible, don't you? Well…what about house-elves?!"
Bellatrix rights herself in the chair and frowns. "What about them? This isn't your ridiculous spew thing again, is it?"
Hermione walks over, grinning now. This could work! "They have different magic to us! They turn invisible all the time to do household tasks without getting in the way! If we learn to do what they do…no one would see us! Not even Dumbledore! We'd be able to go anywhere!"
Bellatrix's eyes light up and she closes her book with a snap, throwing it in the air as she stands. Apparently the books around here can find their own way back. It flies off down a corridor.
"Finally, mudblood, not killing you is starting to pay off! I was beginning to doubt that prophecy, but— Tiggy!"
Oh no. Can't they find another house-elf? This one is terrifying!
Tiggy appears with a pop. Hermione gulps and takes a step back, bumping into Bellatrix who shoves her away with a glare. Oops. Who would have thought she'd ever be more afraid of a house-elf than of Lestrange? What a strange week.
"Tiggy, tell us about house-elf magic, right now. About how you turn invisible, how do you do it?" Bellatrix says excitedly, brushing past Hermione to stare down at the elf in fascination.
Tiggy smiles up at them…eyes narrowed. It's suspicious. Bellatrix doesn't seem to notice.
"Oh yes, Tiggy be helping you, Mistress. But…Tiggy cannot be teaching you. You be needing a professor. A master. And…you will not be liking this, Mistress Bellatrix." The smile doesn't falter.
Bellatrix folds her arms. "And what won't I like, Tiggy?" she grits out.
The house-elf smirks. Actually smirks.
"Well Mistress. To be learning House-Elf Magic…you must be learning to be a house-elf. You be going back to school. With the elflings."
What?!
Lestrange's mouth drops open in enraged disbelief, and Hermione lets out a startled laugh. Elf school?
Oh this is amazing.
And hilarious. Bellatrix's face! Oh she is not happy about this.
"You sneaky little— this is a trick! A game! You're just trying to humiliate me! How dare you. I should have killed you years ago, had you stuffed with the rest of them at Aunt Walburga's or—"
"—or cut off Tiggy's ears as a lesson. You is needing some new threats, Mistress Bella."
Bellatrix stamps her foot and growls. "Don't call me that! I'm not a child anymore. I've told you to call me Bellatrix—"
"—in front of company. This Miss Hermione is not counting as company—"
Hey! How rude!
"—and you be behaving like a child, Mistress Bella. Tiggy is telling you, Tiggy is not being scared of punishment. Of dying. Tiggy is old. Tiggy is living only to help and serve Mistress Bella. You is needing me still, so Tiggy is helping. This is not being a trick. This is being the truth. You is already learning to be a witch…now you is learning to be a house-elf."
Wow. Oh dear, that was rather…humiliating.
Hermione accidentally makes eye contact with Bellatrix. The witch raises her wand at her. No! Anger leads to cursing! What can—
"Tiggy dangled me over a cliff! They're only trying to protect you, believe me. It was terrifying."
The wand lowers, and anger morphs into amusement. "Really?" Bellatrix turns back to the elf. "Did you really threaten the mudblood?"
Tiggy nods gleefully. "Oh yes Mistress, Tiggy had to be sure. This one was being very scared. She be screaming, pleading with Tiggy."
Bellatrix cackles. "You haven't exploded your gobstones yet then. Good. You can…take us to this elf school…I suppose."
Bellatrix holds out her hand to the elf, who tuts and folds its arms.
"It is being late! You both be tired. Tiggy is making supper and then you is both going to bed. No arguing."
Bizarrely, Bellatrix doesn't argue back. Just walks over to a chair and sits down, pulling a book towards her. "Fine. Tell me when it's ready. And take the mudblood somewhere, I'm sick of her questions and staring."
Staring? "I don't stare! I'm just looking because you're the only other person in the— whoa!"
She steadies her feet on carpet. In a bedroom. Tiggy raises an eyebrow at her. "You do be staring. You is strange, Miss Hermione…this is good for Mistress. You be staying with her now. Tiggy is telling you."
Well. That is definitely an order. This elf's stare could rival McGonagall's in its intensity. Hermione shivers.
Tiggy disappears with a pop, and Hermione collapses on the bed with a groan. Bloody hell.
Hermione wakes up with a yell, falling with a thud onto carpeted floor. It feels like it's only been minutes since she'd finished supper and gone to bed, but it's light now in the bedroom, so it must be morning already.
"Hurry up, mudblood, or I'm leaving you behind."
Hermione sits up slowly, rubbing at the back of her head and stretching out her back. Did Bellatrix just hover her off the bed? Ow!
"What's happening? We're leaving? Why— oh. Elf school. I'd forgotten all about that for a second."
She rubs at her face, standing up and getting her balance. All of her muscles are complaining. And her stomach.
"We're not having breakfast first?" she asks cautiously.
Bellatrix just rolls her eyes and grabs Hermione's upper arm, dragging her out of the room and along the corridor. "No time. If we have to go to bloody school to get away from Dumbledore, then I swear to Salazar you are using that Know it All brain to fly through all their ridiculous hoops as quickly as possible."
She starts pulling her down the stairs, it's taking most of Hermione's concentration not to trip and stumble.
"Has Tiggy told you anything else? I'd rather be prepared," she manages to get out.
Bellatrix grumbles something under her breath.
"Pardon?"
"It normally takes the elves three years to complete education."
What?!
They come to a stop in front of the hall fireplace.
"Three years?! We can't disappear for three years! You definitely can't. You still need to—"
"We are not staying there for three years, Merlin's beard. No, we already know the fundamentals of magic and Wizarding society. I'm giving us three weeks. Tops. I've been away from my Lord for far too long already. So get that brain in order and take off your clothes."
Oh okay.
Wait.
What?
She stares at Bellatrix in disbelief.
Bellatrix starts undoing her corset.
Hermione covers her eyes. "What?! What are you doing?!"
"Clothes, mudblood! Off! Or do you not know the first rule of House Elves? I told you. We have to learn fast. Follow all their stupid rules. No clothes."
But that doesn't mean—
Hermione lets out a squawk as she feels hands lifting her robes. She opens her eyes and swats Bellatrix's hands away. "Stop it! Okay, okay, I'll take them off. We'd better find sheets to wear or something. It won't be so bad. Like a toga."
She pulls her outer robes off over her head and then starts unbuttoning her shirt underneath.
And looks up to find Bellatrix staring at her whilst tying a sheet around herself.
Hermione swallows. "Uh, what is it?"
No reply.
She tries to ignore the staring and throws her shirt on the floor, undoing her trousers. It's becoming uncomfortable though. "Bellatrix? You're staring at me. Do you mind…"
Bellatrix scoffs. "I'm not staring at you, mudblood, don't you worry."
She turns away and lights the fire, poking it with a prong.
Hermione tugs her jeans off. Well she was staring. Obviously. So what is she talking about?
She looks around for a bedsheet and then scowls. "Bellatrix, that's not funny, where's my sheet?"
Bellatrix studies her fingernails. "Oh, you don't have one? Oh dear. How on earth did that happen?"
Hermione opens her mouth to argue and then stops. Don't get baited. Be a Slytherin.
"Okay, fine, if you want some more time to stare at me, I'll wait. Maybe you're the one that likes witches."
Bellatrix slowly looks up. Hermione's heart begins to pound and she cringes back, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. That might have been a bit too gutsy, more of a Gryffindor move than anything Slytherin.
Bellatrix's eyebrows raise mockingly at her sudden lack of bravado, her lip twitching at the corner. "I didn't say I didn't like witches, mudblood, I said I wasn't interested in you. And I was staring at your ugly muggle trousers, if you must know. I'm not interested in your filthy body. I've seen all of your memories, remember? I've seen enough of you for a lifetime."
Hermione looks away. Oh. Well that— well the jeans thing makes more sense but— Bellatrix likes witches? How has she never known that? It…she didn't say it like it was a secret. She just assumed, being a pureblood and all…is that why she doesn't like her husband? Does she like wizards too or…?
And what does she mean she's seen Hermione's body? Unless Hermione has looked at herself in her memories…when did that happen? Was there a mirror in a bathroom or something? That's very specific for Lestrange to be looking at—
"Tiggy! Get a sheet for the mudblood too."
Stop it, Hermione, focus, don't let your mind wander, for Godric's sake!
She takes the sheet from Tiggy as the elf appears with a pop. "You need to stop calling me that."
"What did you say?" Bellatrix snarls. "I can call you whatever I want, filth. You're lucky I've decided not to kill you, for now. You'd best hold your tongue, because once I have all the information I need—"
"I know. I mean for the elves. Elves call each other by their first names. Language is very important, the same way as Tiggy calls you Mistress. Names are a part of the rules."
She ties the sheet around her clumsily. She might have to ask some elves how to do this a bit better.
And then she looks up at Bellatrix. Who is glaring at her, fuming, Hermione's wand letting off sparks in her clenched fist.
Hermione just shrugs. "We have to. As you say, if we just follow the rules, it will go faster. No clothes. First names. Complete obedience…oh. And no wands."
"And punishment for disobeying," Tiggy adds sombrely. "Tiggy knows this is being hard, Mistress Bellatrix, but you is having to be punished for mistakes. You is sure you is wanting to go? Both of yous?"
Bellatrix puts Hermione's wand on the mantelpiece and then holds her hand out for the elf to take with a sigh. "Oh I'm used to punishments, Tiggy. You know that," she murmurs darkly.
The elf's ears droop and they nod to themself, turning to Hermione. "And you, Miss Hermione?" They offer out their other hand.
Hermione exhales slowly, and takes it, raising her eyes to meet Bellatrix's. "If punishment is what it takes to learn…then yes. Yes, I'll go. I won't let a bit of pain stop me."
Neither one breaks eye contact, and with a crackling pop, she's surrounded by darkness.
Chapter 14: Lessons LearntNotes:
Time for school, folks, have fun!
Chapter Text
Complete and utter darkness. And a dripping noise.
"Umm, Tiggy? Bellatrix?"
"Tiggy," a voice squeaks from somewhere ahead of her, although it's hard to tell as it echoes. "You is bringing the witches for their duties training? They is being ready?"
"They is agreeing, Hodgy. This is being unusual, but it be involving Time Magic. Tiggy is already discussing this with the masters. It is for protecting wizardkind, so it is being allowed," Tiggy's voice rumbles from around her right knee.
Oh. She hadn't really thought of how Tiggy agreed this. Is this some kind of secret society? Is that why it's so dark?
"They is knowing the rules?" the voice she assumes to be Hodgy squeaks.
A chuckle. "They is knowing, but they is not always remembering or wanting to listen. Obedience duties is being most difficult I's thinking."
Multiple gasps echo across the…room? Cave?
"If they is not obeying, then they bring shame to the house-elves. I is thinking they are not ready!"
No!
"No! I…we're ready to learn. I promise. We…we will obey or we will be punished."
Hermione's voice echoes in the silence.
"Be quiet mud- Hermione, house-elves don't speak out of turn," Bellatrix whispers harshly from her right.
Oh dear. She's right. Does she…is she supposed to punish herself now?
She decides to just stay silent.
"Hmm…they is both trying, Hodgy thinks. And they is new elflings, they is still learning. Come. Master Spitsy is agreeing to teach them in the light chamber, he even is moving the vines."
Hermione feels Tiggy take her hand once more.
"They is not being with the other elflings?"
Giggling laughter echoes around them. "Oh no! They is scaring the elflings…and besides, their eyes are being too small, their ears too small. How will they be seeing? Listening, in the bigger chambers? You must be seeing, Tiggy, they is like old blind elves."
How rude! So what if they're not adapted to living in caves?
A chuckle from Tiggy. "Oh yes, that is why it is being funny to leave them with the elflings…but I knows you is not sharing Tiggy's sense of humour. I's be taking them to the light chamber, thank you, Hodgy."
And then Hermione has to shade her eyes from piercing sunlight, blinking away stars.
"Tiggy be leaving yous with Spitsy now. Good luck, Mistress Bellatrix, Miss Hermione."
And there's another soft pop of disapparition.
Hermione slowly lowers her hand and squints her eyes. So it is an underground cave system…but this area seems to have eroded at the top, sunlight streaming in at the high centre leaving a lit area the size of the Great Hall and shade for a dozen meters or so around that. It's warm at least, which is good, seeing as all they're wearing is bedsheets.
Where in the world are they? And…are those grapevines?
Bellatrix is already walking forwards to look at the plants. "Bellatrix! Where are you going? What if it's a test?"
Bellatrix ignores her. Hermione jogs after her with a sigh.
They are grapevines. So…oh! Elvish wine! It's a vineyard.
"I sees you is finding the grapes."
They both whirl around at the voice and see—
A small, middle-aged looking house-elf wearing a potato sack. His face is angular and thin, but he appears friendly in a way that some people do, just by their eyes, or a tilt to their head.
"Is it for elvish wine?" Hermione can't help but ask.
The elf strokes his chin. "Before I is telling you, we is introducing ourselves. I is being Spitsy, but yous be calling me Master Spitsy. I is being your surrogate master before you is finding a real Wizarding family. Always be using Master as a sign of respect. Now, your names, please."
Right. Master. She glances at Bellatrix, hoping she won't blow this. "My name is Hermione, Master Spitsy. Nice to meet you."
The elf nods, and then they both turn to Bellatrix.
She sighs. "Bellatrix…Master Spitsy."
The elf nods. "Good. Now, I is teaching you differently to the other elflings. You has less time, you is having more experience of wizards…but less of elves. Today, Spitsy be giving you tasks. Yous is obeying."
Hermione swallows. Okay? That seems…fair?
The elf claps. "Bellatrix!"
Bellatrix frowns and slowly walks towards him. "Yes…Master Spitsy?"
And suddenly the kindness is gone. The elf glares up at her. "You stupid elf! Come quickly when your master is calling. I haven't got all day!"
Hermione gasps in horror. Oh no…
Bellatrix grits her teeth, clenching her fists, and faint cracks appear in the stone beneath her feet.
Oh she might get them expelled on their first day at this rate. This is awful! How—
And then the witch's face goes blank, timid. She lowers her gaze to the floor and ducks her head, hands coming behind her back.
"I'm sorry, Master Spitsy. I was slow and stupid. How should I be punished?"
Oh. This…so she does have some self-control.
It doesn't seem right. Where's the pride? The energy?
Spitsy sighs dismissively. "There's no time for that right now, just be quicker next time. I need you to weed the plants."
To Hermione's amazement, Bellatrix bobs into a slight curtsey. "Yes, Master Spitsy," she says clearly, eyes still trained to the floor, and then walks quickly but calmly towards the grapevines and kneels down, beginning to pull up the weeds by hand.
Hermione just watches in confusion.
"Hermione!"
Hermione hastily steps forwards, not wanting to make the same mistake as Bellatrix. "Yes, Master Spitsy?"
"There you are. Are you clean? I need you to stomp the grapes."
Umm…is she clean? She hadn't had a shower this morning, and she isn't wearing any shoes so…
"Um, no Master Spitsy, my feet aren't clean. But I can wash them before I stomp the grapes?"
Spitsy glares up at her. Oh dear. "You disgusting, filthy little creature! How dare you not stay clean at all times. You bring shame to our noble house!"
Has he been taking lessons from Bellatrix or something? This feels oddly familiar. At least Hermione's used to calming her temper and not snapping back by now.
She follows Bellatrix's example, seeing as it worked out okay for her. She looks down at the floor. "I'm so sorry, Master Spitsy. I should have stayed clean. How should I be punished?"
"Punished? You cannot do your duties! You are a disgrace! Maybe I should give you clothes!"
Hermione's eyes jolt up. "No! Please! Don't give me clothes, I'll…I'll clean my feet straight away and start my duties, please! And I'll…I won't eat tonight. As punishment." Please not clothes! She only just got here.
Oh. She now feels rather embarrassed at how she tried to trick the Hogwarts elves into picking up clothes. She's staring to see where they were coming from…
Spitsy seems to consider this, and then nods. "Alright then. No dinner. Clean yourself. Now."
Now? But she doesn't have a wand. And they haven't taught her elf magic yet.
She looks over at Bellatrix, who has turned slightly from the plants to glare at her.
So helpful.
"Well, elf? I'm waiting."
Okay Hermione, you can do it. Wandless scourgify.
She stares down at her feet, feeling out for her magic.
Oh no. She forgot, her magic isn't back. Who knows if she'd be able to do this with a wand, let alone–
Just try. "Scourgify," she mutters.
Nothing.
She swallows, looking at her feet and picturing them becoming clean. "Scourgify!"
Still nothing. Oh no! She's failing a test! She hates failing tests, especially on her first day, and she's the worst in the class now.
"Scour— …gify."
What? Her feet just…cleaned themselves…mid-incantation.
She slowly looks up at Spitsy.
"Good. Go stomp the grapes, you've wasted enough of my time."
Oh thank Merlin!
She gives him a hasty nod. "Yes, Master Spitsy."
How did that happen? Her eyes go back to Bellatrix as she hurries towards a large wooden tub of grapes off to the left of the vines. Did she…?
She climbs into the tub and begins stomping. Spitsy ignores them both and goes to sit in the shade.
Bellatrix looks up at her.
You can thank me later, mudblood. A voice snarls in her head, making her jump. She almost slips out of the tub. Bellatrix smirks at her.
Oh dear.
They spend the rest of the day gardening with Spitsy and attending to his needs, bringing him water and various items.
As he's remained in character all day, and they're not allowed to speak out of turn, Hermione hasn't been able to tell him that she doesn't have magic. She's had to rely on Bellatrix stepping in, which she always does…after leaving it to the very last second.
But…Hermione supposes she should be grateful. The witch is having to perform non-verbal, wandless magic after all. It's quite impressive that she always manages it.
And the other witch has kept up her timid, respectful, persona. At least when the elf is looking. She's sent a few stinging hexes Hermione's way, or let out her rage on some unfortunate weeds. She seemed to relish stomping the grapes a little too much as well…
But now it's dark, and Hermione is exhausted. Starving. They haven't eaten all day, is this what house-elves expect from wizards? And she's getting cold! Sheets are not enough in the dark.
"Hermione! Bellatrix!" Spitsy shouts from the entrance to a tunnel.
Both witches run forward to meet him, hands out in the darkness as they leave the moonlit chamber.
"Yes, Master Spitsy?"
Silence.
Where is he?
And then a warm chuckle. "Yous is both doing well. Very well. I is giving you many challenges today. Wizards are not all being this strict, only few. I is showing you how to be strong elves. Thinking elves. Learning elves."
Hermione sighs with relief. He's back. The kind elf is back. And he's praising them! So she didn't fail her first lesson!
"But now you is needing food. Water. Rest. I thinks…maybe you is okay to go with the elflings. We is already telling them you is here. That you is being elves, not witches. Can Spitsy be trusting yous to act like elves? To not be ordering? Being equals?"
Hmm, well Hermione will. As for certain others…
She nods, knowing he can see her in the darkness. "Of course, Master Spitsy. We're here to be house-elves. So long as we're here, that won't change. Right Bellatrix?"
A huff from next to her. "Yes, I'm sure we'll all be the best of friends. Now tell me this, how are we supposed to see in the dark? I don't fancy stumbling around blind in a damp cave all night."
Now there's the disrespect that she's used to. It's a bit of a relief, actually. A cowering Bellatrix was just…bizarre.
A small hand takes hers, making Hermione jump.
"There is being fires in the kitchens. Spitsy be taking you there. And you will not be needing light to sleep. You can be asking the other elves to guide you to your sleeping chamber for rest later."
And suddenly they're in an enormous kitchen. Well, it's still a cave, but apart from that it could be a replica of the kitchens at Hogwarts. Maybe it is, for training purposes.
But that's not what captures Hermione's attention. They're surrounded by the tiniest elves Hermione has ever seen. They're almost all eyes, ears too big for their heads. And all silently staring.
"Elflings!" Spitsy squeaks. "These is being the new additions we is telling yous about. Now, is yous all remembering what Hodgy says to yous?"
There is some high-pitched whispering, and then one elfling is pushed forward. It tugs at its ears and shifts its weight from one foot to the other.
"Hodgy is— she is be telling…that they is elves, not witches. But they…they is not looking like elves, Master Spitsy. They is huge!" the elfling squeaks, eyes wide and hands reaching up to demonstrate how tall they are, not very successfully.
Some other elflings nod in agreement, others still staring in shock or hiding behind taller friends. Hermione puts her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh.
And then she kneels down. They must seem like giants, and she remembers how scary Grawp was.
She sits resting on her knees. "You're right," she says softly, as quietly as she can, knowing their ears must be sensitive. "We don't look like elves, and we are very tall. That's why we'll be needing your help. Could you teach us how to be house-elves?"
The elflings look between each other, unsure.
Bellatrix sighs, and starts to walk towards the other side of the kitchen near the fire, the elflings parting for her in shocked awe. "If you want to. We're not ordering you or anything. Just think of us as ugly elves with tiny eyes and leave us to it. Now which of you has found the best thing to eat around here? I'm looking at you, fatty."
What?!
"Bellatrix! Don't be so rude!" Hermione gets to her feet, turning to Spitsy. "I'm so sorry. I think she's just tired, or…well she is normally like this, but we did promise. Bellatrix, we have to be—"
"You be looking in the wrong place! The best foods is over here, Bellatrix!"
"Don't be listening to Hurly! He is wrongs! He is liking the snails!"
"I is nots!"
"Is toos! Mixy sees Hurly eating the snails off the floor! Mixy sees!"
Hermione's mouth falls open as a startled Bellatrix is suddenly surrounded by tiny elves, pulling her towards different cupboards.
A chuckle comes from near Hermione's leg.
"Oh I thinks they is handling her just fine. Spitsy is hearing of 'Mistress Bella'. He is knowing. Why you thinking Spitsy is playing 'cruel master'?"
Hermione looks down at the elf. "You know her? So this was all…revenge?"
Spitsy beckons her down to his level. She kneels once more.
"Tiggy is caring for Mistress Bella since she is born. Spitsy is hearing much. Seeing much. I is not revenging, I's promise. I is teaching. Showing."
Hermione frowns. "Showing her what it's like to be a house-elf?"
Spitsy considers this, tilting his head. "Yes…and no. Tiggy is saying that Mistress Bellatrix is born to be a house-elf…but is choosing clothes."
What? "Are you saying she's crazy? Like Dobby?"
Spitsy's ears prick up. "You is knowing Dobby? I is knowing him well. He is often visiting the grapes when he is an elfling, listening to Master Spitsy's stories of wizards. He is a thinking elf. A strong elf."
Hermione smiles. "He's an amazing elf. A good friend. He saved my life, I'm forever grateful to him."
Spitsy smiles. "But you is calling him crazy?"
Hermione looks down, fiddling with her sheet. "I don't think he's crazy. But a lot of the other elves do. That's what I meant…about Bellatrix."
"Ah. Spitsy is not thinking she is crazy, no. No, Spitsy is agreeing with Tiggy. Mistress Bella is borns to be a house-elf. She is taught. She is ordered. She is punished. But she still be resisting. She be choosing freedom. She is borns to be a house-elf…but she is not being one. So Spitsy is reminding her of the lessons she is already learning from when she is young. So that she is learning faster."
Oh. Well this is like what she'd been thinking a few days ago! Bellatrix isn't the typical pureblood witch, she's a rebel. Just look at her manners. Would you see Narcissa Malfoy sitting on tables or talking with her mouth full? Of course not! So if Bellatrix has had the same etiquette lessons…
Oh dear.
Hermione swallows. "Spitsy…when you say punishment…you weren't being literal about the cruel master, were you?"
Spitsy looks away across the room, and Hermione follows his gaze, watching as Bellatrix finally manages to stumble her way past the clingy elflings and reach a table with some food, glaring at the more confident ones until they let go.
"Spitsy is being very literal, Hermione. She is obeying…or she is punished. And she is not often being obeying. Tiggy is often asking for healing plants…from when Mistress Bella is an elfling. She is a strong elf. A thinking elf. Maybe she is even a good elf…if she is finding a new master."
Oh.
"She found a new master," Hermione whispers. "The worst master of them all."
Spitsy tugs at his ears sadly. And then his face morphs into a grin as he squints at Hermione.
"And you is the witch with the clothes! I's be recognising you too, Miss Hermione."
Oh no! Hermione groans. "I'm so sorry about that. I was young! I didn't understand. I'd only seen cruel masters, mistreatment. I just didn't want any elves getting hurt. I wanted them to be able to make their own choices…and then I took their choice. It was rather misguided."
Spitsy just smiles. "You is learning to be a witch. You is making mistakes. This is okay. And now…maybe you is a thinking elf? Maybe…you is giving Mistress Bellatrix her clothes? I thinks she is needing a push to leave her master. You is good at pushing, Miss Hermione."
Hermione smiles at him. "You are a good elf, Master Spitsy. Not everyone sees as you do. I'm only just learning to see myself…but I might be able to give her a nudge in the right direction. If I can clear out some of the blood-purist rot."
He laughs. "She is being a Black. That is being some deep rot. I is wishing you luck in your gardening. Now eat! You is being hungry, tired! Go, before Hurly is eating it all or Bellatrix is getting annoyed."
He disappears. And he has a point. She is starving, and someone needs to keep Bellatrix in line.
Um. She means…in a nice way. Not in a punishment way. Gosh, it's all very dark. She almost feels sorry for—
"Get your arse over here mud– Hermione and help me fight these things off. I can't get a moment's peace, for the— Merlin's balls, get your disgusting little fingers off my plate! Yes you! I'm looking right at your puny skull, aren't I?"
"I is called Hurly."
"I don't bloody care what you're called, get your snail fingers away."
Hermione gets to her feet. Oh dear. She'd better get over there.
Chapter 15: Touching On ToleranceChapter Text
Hermione creeps over cautiously, trying not to step on any elves on the way. Oh will they just, standing and staring is not–
"Excuse me, please! I am trying to get to the table. Can I just, is there a space or– oh this is ridiculous!"
She reaches the table, and gently pushes the elves next to Bellatrix so that they slide along down the bench and Hermione can slip in next to the witch. If there's two of them, maybe they can actually manage to eat something between fighting the elflings off.
She's only managed a few mouthfuls when an elf moves onto her lap, tugging at her hair curiously.
"You're called Mixty, aren't you?" Hermione grits out.
The elf nods happily.
"Well, Mixty, I am trying to eat. Get off me."
Mixty ignores her, and Bellatrix snorts. "Not that easy, pet. Do you think I haven't tried that?"
Hermione huffs, picking up the elf and putting them on the floor, turning sideways to shield her plate and scooching closer to Bellatrix to block her other side.
Bellatrix elbows an elf off the table and then copies her, leaning over her plate with a growl. "Can't I just scare them? It would be bloody simpler. Throw some plates, yell, stamp about a bit? Threaten to chop off some toes?"
Hermione looks up from her plate with a grimace. Her face is very close to Bellatrix's now as they both hunch over. They make eye contact, and she tries not to think about–
"What are you trying not to think about?"
Hermione breaks eye contact. Oh dear. That was close. She was trying not to think about Bellatrix's childhood. That definitely won't go down well, but she can't stop–
"Well? You're terrible at lying mu– Hermione. What are you hiding?"
Think, Hermione. Anything.
"It was nothing, just something embarrassing. You wouldn't want to know. I'm going to start practicing occlumency, that way you won't have to see all of my embarrassing–"
"What. Were. You. Thinking."
Bellatrix grabs her chin, forcing her head round. Oh no. Think of something embarrassing, quick. Something to do with Bellatrix but not–
Bellatrix's eyes meet hers, and Hermione panics. She just stares at her eyes, trying not to think about anything.
She thinks about the colour of Bellatrix's eyes, about how dark they are. She tries to pinpoint where her pupils meet the irises in the dim firelight. Watches the shadows flicker across her face, the flames lighting up her cheekbones, making her eyes glisten. Thinks about how her skin looks porcelain, how red her lips look.
Thinks about how she's kissed those lips. Three times now. How strange that is. How she doesn't like witches, but this witch is so intriguing. So unexpected. Hermione loves a puzzle. She can't help wanting to—
Bellatrix spins around to face away from the table and stands, startling Hermione out of her staring.
"You're right. I didn't want to see that. Keep your pervy thoughts to yourself."
Pervy— oh dear. "That wasn't— I don't—"
"Legilimens, remember?" Bellatrix says, stretching and kicking a few elves out of the way. "No hiding from me, pet. Now one of you lot show me where I'm sleeping, it better not be on the floor."
An elf runs and jumps to take Bellatrix's hand, and they disappear with a pop.
What?
Hermione jumps to her feet. "You've already learnt to apparate? I need to go with her! She's my…friend. Can one of you take me too?"
An elf hugs her ankle. "Hobsy be knowing how! I is a fast learning elf. I is taking you to your Bellatrix. Stay small."
Stay small? Hermione crouches down, and Hobsy nods.
And then she's in pitch-black darkness once more.
"—that the ceiling is so low? Bloody buggering— where are you?"
A hand grabs Hermione's shoulder. "Ah! Bellatrix, it's me! I think the elves have left. Are…are you alright?"
The hand lets go and then there's some more muffled cursing in the darkness and a scraping sound. "So they've left us in an underground cave that we can't see or stand up in?" Bellatrix grumbles. "Fantastic. Bloody brilliant. Where is—"
Hermione crawls forwards and bumps into Bellatrix again. "Sorry! How small is this cave? And is this it? Do we have beds…maybe we should call one of them."
"We can't call them! We're elves now, remember? Not witches. We can't start acting like mistresses—oh."
Hermione trails her hand along the wall, trying to get an idea of how small the room is.
Why is it so quiet?
"Bellatrix? What is it?"
More silence. She carries along around the wall. This place is so small. About the size of kingsize bed if Hermione were to—oh.
"Bellatrix? Is this cave our bed? For both of us?"
More silence. It's getting creepy.
And then some loud breathing. Gasps. Oh dear.
She crawls over to where the sound is coming from, and eventually bumps into a warm body.
"Bellatrix, it's okay. You're safe just— just lie down. Then it will feel like there's more space."
She reaches out for the witch, who is still panting loudly and flinches away from her at her touch.
Okay. Definitely claustrophobic. Maybe because of Azkaban.
"It's alright, I won't touch you again. Focus on your breathing. I'll do it too, okay? In…out…In…out…"
It doesn't seem to be working. Maybe she should call an elf. Or find a door.
Hermione carries on breathing slowly and trails her hand around the room until she reaches Bellatrix once more…who is hugging a large, thick quilt, from what it feels like. Bedding. So they are meant to stay in here.
Think, Hermione. Calm her down.
Hermione lies down on the stone floor.
"Lie down, Bellatrix. Come on, close your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else. You're good at that, aren't you?"
She must be. She survived Azkaban.
"Imagine…imagine you're in your library. You're lying on a sofa. We never left. We stayed there."
She hears a shuffling sound next to her in the dark, and then an arm brushes against hers on the ground. Hermione exhales in relief.
"You're…on the sofa, by the fire. Some books are flying overhead, going back to their shelves. You just did a lot of reading so you're tired. You've closed your eyes. Nobody else is in the house except me and Tiggy. I've stayed with you…you can't get me to leave. To shut up. Your silencio isn't working still, but you're too tired to move. You decide to just get some sleep."
"It's cold," Bellatrix rasps from next to her, making her jump.
"Yes, I did something stupid, let the fire go out. But Tiggy left you a blanket, to keep you warm and safe. You have it with you on the sofa."
Hermione feels the quilt fall over her. It must be so big that it covers the whole room, there's no way Bellatrix would willingly share with her. Is there?
Should she keep talking? Is Bellatrix okay? Maybe she should still call someone. It might be best to—
"Don't. I'm fine. I can hear your brain whirring mud- Herm- mudblood."
"I know. But I don't like the silence, so…"
Bellatrix sighs. "Keep talking, Know It All."
Hermione chuckles. "I don't think you get to call me that either, especially now that I've seen your library. It's incredible. Even better than Hogwarts. I think you must be a bigger bookworm than me!"
That was a bit bold, but it's easier in the dark. Pretending everything is normal. That she doesn't have to be scared for her life all the time.
"Oh no pet, you're the bookworm. You would have spent your whole time at Hogwarts reading if Potter hadn't gone and befriended you. The weasel boy was right, you were so annoying. You're lucky Potter felt sorry for you."
She rolls her eyes at the dig and deflects back. "Was annoying? You mean you don't think I'm annoying anymore? How nice of you to say."
Ow! "Was that a stinging jinx? To my face?"
"Only mild. I can do worse, you know."
Hermione's chest tightens.
Oh she knows, very well.
She pulls her arm to herself. What is she doing? How did—
This witch tortured her. Cut into her skin. She still has the scar, she can feel it, the ridge of each letter.
Why is that so easy to…not forget. Or forgive.
Ever since that day with the legilimency…it's like they have this strange bond.
It might be the life debt too, if that exists.
"Bellatrix…"
She drifts off. What's she going to say? Can you feel the bond between us? Do you still want to kill me? Do you still hate me for my blood?
"What?"
Hermione sighs. "Oh nothing. I was just thinking about the prophecy. I actually– It's ridiculous but I almost …hope you survive…somehow."
Some shuffling next to her, and the arm moves away.
"Oh, I'll survive, mudblood. I'm not going through all this just to be killed by a Weasley."
For some reason, rather than worrying her, that makes Hermione smile.
The little tasks with Spitsy continue into the next week, either in the light chamber or the kitchens, reciting house-elf law and treating him as their master as they clean, cook and garden.
It only takes two days before Bellatrix begins resorting to stinging jinxes to keep the elflings away while they're eating, to Hermione's disapproval but reluctant acceptance. And it turns out there is a door to the bedchamber. A trapdoor in the centre of the ceiling. Obviously.
They had immediately asked for separate rooms, and were told that all the bedchambers are full, but they are free to sleep with the elflings if they wish.
So no. Absolutely not moving rooms.
The days and nights begin to blur past, full of strict rules from all sides, and before they know it, it's been a whole week. Hermione is exhausted. She doesn't have to read anyone here. The rules are perfectly clear.
She never thought she'd grow to dislike rules.
"Hermione! Bellatrix! Come!"
They both run over to Spitsy, in the centre of the light chamber. Hermione grips her bedsheet tightly. She must have tied it wrong today, it keeps falling down.
"Yes, Master Spitsy?" Bellatrix gasps.
Gasps? Why is she so tired?
Spitsy stares at her, eyebrow raised in question. Bellatrix doesn't say anything.
His face softens. "Alright. You nearly be finishing this portion of training. If you is doing this well, you is moving on to 'Hearing the Call'. This is meaning apparition. Elf apparition, no wands."
Hermione turns to grin at Bellatrix. They did it! They're finally learning magic soon! Bellatrix meets her eye and then moves her attention back to Spitsy, determination spreading across her features.
With a pop, a wardrobe appears.
"Now, it is good you is not elves, because this is being very frightening for the elflings. This…contains clothes."
He says it so menacingly, with such drama, that Hermione can't help but laugh.
"Ah! This is being funny to you, Hermione, but Spitsy is thinking you will have the most trouble with this task. You is needing to listen to Bellatrix."
Bellatrix?
The witch turns to smirk at her.
He opens the wardrobe and jumps to pull one of the hangers free. Oh. Wizarding clothing. Pureblood clothing.
Bloody corsets!
"I sees you is understanding, Hermione. And this why Bellatrix is being first. Showing you. These are being very formal witch's clothing, only for the most important occasions. You is already knowing other clothes. This is being your challenge. Bellatrix is dressing you, and then you is dressing her. So you is needing to watch. To listen."
Now both witches snap their heads to make eye contact. They have to dress each other? But Hermione doesn't have any magic and…either way, it's rather…intimate.
Hermione swallows, looking away. "Yes, Master Spitsy."
Bellatrix walks over to the wardrobe and starts looking through the pieces of clothing, frowning.
"Bloody old. Even I don't— but I can remember. Alright, Master Spitsy. Do you want this done with magic, or…?"
"I is not needing magic. You has had a long day. I is thinking you have done enough wandless magic. This is being draining for witches. I sees it."
Oh. So that's why Bellatrix is so tired.
"Alright then. I'm ready. Come her m–Hermione."
Spitsy claps, startling them. "She is not being Hermione, she is being Mistress Hermione. You is teaching, yes. But she is also being your Mistress. I is not being the master right now."
Oh dear. Hermione smiles weakly at Bellatrix and walks closer.
"Fine," Bellatrix grits out. "And could I have a chair too. Or a stool."
Spitsy smiles and clicks his fingers. A wooden stool appears. Hermione moves to sit on it.
Bellatrix grabs her arm. "Did I say sit, you little—?" She sighs, and her face softens, her grip softens.
"Stand here, Mistress Hermione, we will use the stool later."
Okay. Yes. Just listen and learn. This is a tutorial.
Bellatrix stands in front of her. "I'm going to remove your…sheet, Mistress."
Complete nudity. Oh dear. Hermione gives a jerky nod and grits her teeth, avoiding eye contact.
The sheet falls free, and Bellatrix keeps up a steady stream of instructions.
"There are no undergarments, traditionally. Most Purebloods nowadays would be a bit more modern, but in keeping with the period…"
She takes something from the wardrobe.
"This is a chemise. It's like…a long shirt. Lift up your arms, Mistress, so I can guide you through the sleeves."
Hermione does as she's told and tries to just memorise everything Bellatrix is saying without thinking about how naked she is or how much Bellatrix will be touching her.
Bellatrix has stopped. She's looking at Hermione's arm. Oh.
Mudblood
Hermione automatically rubs at the mark and then sighs, rolling her shoulders back and then lifting her arms. "Come on, elf, I don't have all day."
This seems to break Bellatrix from her thoughts, and she pulls Hermione's hands through the sleeves and lifts the shirt over her head, tugging it down.
"Sorry, Mistress Hermione. I'll be faster."
She picks something up off the stool.
"This is a hip pad. It's attached to a long string and tied around your waist, like this, with the pad at the back to support the petticoats."
She stands close, tying the thread securely at the front with sure fingers. Hermione looks down to check the placement, unable to help brushing her head against the other witch's as she leans closer to look.
Bellatrix clears her throat. "You can wear a different number of petticoats, depending on how cold it is. I think I'll do two today as it's not too cold, Mistress."
This is actually very interesting. If only Hogwarts had pureblood classes as well as muggle studies. Maybe she'll suggest it to Headmistress McGonagall when—
"Arms up!..Mistress."
Hermione cringes guiltily at Bellatrix, meeting her burning eyes.
Sorry.
Pay attention.
The first petticoat goes over head, Bellatrix adjusting it around her waist and then tying it at the back. And then the second. It's heavy.
"See how the pleats are at the side, but it's flat at the front? Make sure you get it the right way round."
And she's a good teacher. Full of surprises.
Bellatrix comes back from the wardrobe with…
Hermione sighs. "Is that a bloody corset?"
Bellatrix smirks. "A bodice, Mistress. But you will need to breathe in. I won't make it too tight…I promise."
She'd better not.
It's brittle, and goes on like a backwards waistcoat. Bellatrix puts it in on her and then pauses, fingers stroking over Hermione's shoulders absentmindedly before taking it off again.
"You'll need to see. This one ties at the back, but I'll show you how to thread it. It's one single chord, starting at the bottom right and then threading back and forth through the eyelets."
She holds it out so Hermione can see, and they both bend over it. "You have to pull it tight as you go, it's much easier with magic but—oh Morgana's tits, I almost forgot. I mean. Sorry Mistress."
Hermione smiles. "That's alright, Bellatrix. Bad language doesn't offend me."
Bellatrix pulls her by the hand towards the stool distractedly. "Okay, good. Thank you, Mistress. Now where is— oh there."
She kneels down on the floor as Hermione sits. "Stockings and shoes. You have to do these before the bodice otherwise…well, you don't have to, but sitting down in a bodice is really uncomfortable. I'd avoid it as much as possible, Mistress."
She lifts Hermione's foot and pulls the cotton stocking up to her knee. It's rather awkward. She can't help remembering that she's not wearing any underwear as Bellatrix's hands stroke up her leg. Hermione looks at Spitsy instead.
"No, look at me!"
Hermione hurriedly looks down as Bellatrix glares at her.
Don't screw this up. We'd better pass this and get to the magic soon. I'm not really your house-elf.
Sorry
Bellatrix nods. "This is a garter, it goes around below the knee and is buckles at the front. It stops your stockings falling down."
"Then you put on shoes." She lifts Hermione's foot. Hermione has the bizarre thought of feeling like a cross between Cinderella and a small child.
Bellatrix quickly does the same with the other leg and Hermione stands.
"Okay, back to the bodice. Pull your stomach in, but not too much. Just…tense. Like someone's about to punch you in the stomach."
Hermione frowns, but does as she's told. "Umm, no one's punched me in the stomach before."
Bellatrix shrugs. "Lucky you…Mistress." She begins lacing the bodice. It is tight…but overall, not too bad.
Bellatrix comes to stand in front of her, studying her critically. Hermione tries not to fidget as her gaze travels over every inch of her.
"Good. Let me just tuck the chemise under and then you'll be done."
She moves closer and reaches under the top of the bodice, pushing the chemise down so it's not sticking out.Now Hermione can't help but shiver as cold fingers brush over her chest.
"You have to hide the top of the shirt, displaying the bodice is the most important thing. There."
Her fingertips move off of Hermione's skin, and she stands back.
To Hermione's relief. She's oddly flustered by the witch, not wanting to look at her anymore.
She looks at Spitsy instead. Who nods at them.
"Well done. You is passing. You is a good teacher, and a good elf. You is ready for magic. Now is your turn, Hermione, so you is undressing. Bellatrix, you is helping, and then you will be the Mistress."
Bellatrix meets Hermione's eyes and grins.
As it should be. Don't fuck this up, pet.