Chapter 22: A Long Time ComingNotes:
Hey folks! Settle in, because this chapter is a long one.
Thanks again for the kudos and comments, it's unbelievable that so many of you take the time to let me know what you think, I really appreciate it!
Love to you all x
Chapter Text
What to do? Where to start?
"Umm…I wish I could explain things to you, but I really can't. Honestly. It's very important that you not know anything. For everyone's safety. Yours, mine, Bellatrix's, Draco's, Snape's …everyone we know. Everyone on the planet, actually."
Narcissa steeples her fingers and raises an eyebrow. It's rather Snape-esque. What is their relationship exactly? How close are they, because now that she thinks about it…
"Tell me this, Miss Granger. What you are doing, will it end the war?"
Hermione frowns. "Umm…not directly, no."
"Is it in service of the Dark Lord?"
"No! No, I'd never…I mean…it's not stopping him either, not really."
A flicker of something crosses Narcissa's face.
"Then is it for Dumbledore? For the Order?"
Hermione shakes her head.
Narcissa lets out a soft sigh.
"Will it hurt my family?"
Oh. Well…
"It— no. No, it might even— I might be able to—what we are doing won't have an impact on…on anything. It can't. The only difference…I might be able to help Bellatrix. I'm going to try, anyway. I'm not sure if I'll be able to."
Narcissa cautiously reaches out…and takes her hands.
What?…That's rather unexpected.
"You're trying to help Bella?"
A flash of emotion. A slight glint to her eyes. Hope. Astonishment.
Hermione swallows. "I'm…we're working together. Helping each other."
Narcissa's eyebrows raise in disbelief. "How? How in Merlin's name…you're a mud—mug— you're on the other side, Miss Granger."
Hermione chuckles. "I know. I know, I said exactly the same thing to someone today. It's completely mad, right? But this person had some wise words for me. And I think maybe you'll understand. They said that yes, she's a Death Eater, and I'm a muggleborn. But that's not all we are. And I think, in some ways, we're rather similar. You yourself thought I was her only moments ago, didn't you? How can we be opposites? Opposed?"
"Because she—"
"I know. Because she hates my kind and wants me dead. I know. Believe me I know."
They're still holding hands, analysing each other in shared confusion.
And then they both jump as the doors slam open.
"Cissy, are you still here? A bloody auror caught me with a difindo right when I was disapparating and—"
Hermione jolts to her feet, wrenching her hands back.
Bellatrix stops near the entrance and stares. No one says anything.
Oh this is very awkward. It's only been a few hours since they—
Well, it's good they're all occluding right now, her thoughts are…
Still nobody moves. The crackling fire the only sound.
Well somebody say something!
Hermione clears her throat. "You're hurt?"
Bellatrix's eyes snap to hers, and then widen.
"What are you doing? Why can't I see—"
"I'm occluding. Because of your sister."
"That's not occluding. That's…did he teach you that?"
"Kind of, I adapted it. But the thread's still there if that's what you're worried—"
"I'm not worried," Bellatrix snaps. "That thread is nothing but trouble, you know that. I'd cut it if I were you."
Hermione shrugs. "I don't think it works like that. I don't know what it is…but if I ever need to find you, help you…"
She walks closer, and Bellatrix backs away towards the door.
Hermione stops.
"I don't need your help," Bellatrix hisses, eyes darting to Narcissa and straightening her posture, stepping forwards again. "It's because of you that we got into this whole fucked up mess. It's your fault I—"
Hermione groans and raises her hands to her hair in frustration. "It is not my fault! It never was. I may have brought you into this, yes, but I didn't choose it. I haven't made you do anything. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"
Now Bellatrix does storm forwards, wand drawn and pointed at her accusingly. "Only because you stabbed me! It doesn't count as saving me if you were the one to hurt me to begin with. You have done nothing but ruin my—"
"I have done nothing but try to resolve this! Fix this! I have risked my life, done everything I can to make sure that—"
"That I die!" Bellatrix snarls, coming closer.
Hermione steps forwards to meet her. "No! I don't want you to die I— I want to—argh you're so frustrating!" She stamps her foot.
Bellatrix laughs. "You don't know what you want! You have no idea what you want."
She takes Hermione's chin roughly and tilts her head so their eyes meet "You think this is a game? Think you can do whatever you want, and it will all turn out alright? There are always consequences. Nothing can change."
Will she stop touching her? It's still rather confusing, and the close proximity isn't helping to clear her—
Hermione sighs and closes her eyes. "No, you're right, nothing can change. I just think…maybe things aren't as clear as we think, you know? Maybe…we're not seeing everything. I mean…I never would have thought…we never knew that…"
She exhales sharply and snaps her eyes open, pulling away. "That doesn't matter now. We're in this together, and there's something we need to do. Despite what…happened…I still need your help. Will you come with me?"
Bellatrix folds her arms and shrugs. "Fine. As long as I'm not too busy. You're not my first priority anymore, you know. And don't be expecting what happened to happen again because—"
"Yes! I mean…no. No, I know. I won't…that was…I mean it was fine. Not fine! I don't mean…, don't worry, I'm not…"
Her eyes fall to Bellatrix's lips. Oh dear Merlin, Hermione. Stop staring for Godric's sake.
The atmosphere turns decidedly awkward again as she trails off, unable to even speak anymore she's so flustered.
She looks away from Bellatrix only to meet Narcissa's piercing gaze. Oh dear. Had they said anything…?
Bellatrix chuckles, walking behind Narcissa's chair and hugging her sister around her neck. "Sorry Cissy, but you're going to have to put up with not knowing anything. I know how much you hate that, but there's nothing I can do, so calm down, would you? You're going to petrify Herm– the mudblood with your basilisk stare if you're not careful."
Narcissa's head snaps around to meet Bellatrix's eyes. "If I'm understanding correctly, I fear you've both said far too much already. I don't need legilimency to read you, Bella."
She pauses to look between the both of them, nose crinkling. She gestures broadly. "And whatever is happening here, I don't want to know anything. I'll be leaving now. I'm sure Miss Granger can see to your wounds. It appears she has before."
She stands up, straightening her practically immaculate robes with a flick of her wand, and heads towards the door.
"And get her some clothes, Bella. She's showing far too much skin. You may enjoy it, but it's not proper. You can't be associated with someone who looks like a house-elf in human form. It's disgusting."
She marches out of the room, and the sound of heels on wood slowly fades.
Hermione bursts out laughing. "Oh Spitsy was right, she is funny. Oh dear Merlin, house-elf in human form. If only she knew!"
She chuckles a few more times, looking around at Bellatrix and grinning.
And then frowns. The witch has sat down on a dining chair, staring in Hermione's direction, unfocused.
Sitting normally on a chair?
Oh.
Hermione tuts. "Well? Where are you hurt?"
Bellatrix looks up distractedly. "Hmm? Oh. I'll get Tiggy to heal it. You'll just screw it up. Make it worse."
Hermione's shoulders fall with a sigh. "Right. Then I'll leave you to it. I'll go back to Shell Cottage. It should still be safe, and I can always leave now…I'll meet you back here later to discuss the plan."
"Oh, so I'm supposed to just wait around for you now? Let you waltz off and leave me? Do whatever you say?" she snaps. "I'm in charge. That was your whole plan, wasn't it? So I don't hurt you?"
Why is she angry now?
Hermione stares at her, bewildered. "Well, Yes. But you're not going to hurt me now. I told you, I won't let you. And you don't have to wait around, we can agree a time, or—"
"You won't let me? You think you're stronger than me all of a sudden, just because some jumped-up little elf taught you—"
Hermione snarls, wand drawn. "Don't you dare, talk like that about Master Spitsy. He is stronger, wiser, than any wizard either of us has ever met. And he has taught me to be strong. He's taught me magic wizardkind couldn't even dream of, he—"
Hermione stops in her rant as Bellatrix raises an eyebrow at her. Oh dear. Well there are definitely parallels but—
Hermione clenches her jaw and folds her arms. "I never kneeled for him— well, I did, but not for him. Wouldn't kill for him, if that's what you're thinking."
Bellatrix smirks. "He's your Master. You've found anger. Power. You think you're better than the rest of us now, don't you? You like disappearing, making us look for you, confusing us. You disarmed an auror. Created an explosion in a muggle neighbourhood. Did you scare Cissy too?"
Hermione swallows and Bellatrix laughs. "Oh, you did! And how did it feel? Did you like it? The power, the control?"
"I…no. No, when I saw she was scared I…"
Bellatrix pulls herself to her feet and walks closer. "What did you do…hmm? Did you laugh at how powerless she was? Did you feel invincible?"
Hermione looks down and sighs. "She thought I was you. Maybe we…"
She steps closer to the witch, letting go of the invisibility coating her mind. "We're so similar, Bellatrix. You see that, right? So different, but so similar. I don't want…he destroyed you. He took what light you had and…"
She looks up, reaches up, and strokes her thumb over Bellatrix's cheek. "Where are you hurt, Bellatrix?"
Bellatrix flinches back. "Don't touch me. You're disgusting. What was I thinking? We're not the same at all, we—"
Hermione huffs out a low laugh, eyes darting over the other witch's face, taking her in. "We're in your library, Bellatrix. I've seen your memories. Heard about your childhood. You can't hide from me."
She looks into Bellatrix's glaring eyes, watching them flash briefly with panic. "The witch who wants to be the best. To protect herself. To find the perfect plan. To protect the ones she loves. You're just a Hermione who was never saved by a scrawny boy in a bathroom. A Hermione who didn't have a family to—"
Bellatrix's grabs her by the throat, fingers tightening. "I have a family. I have a Lord. How dare you call me a pathetic little Mudblood in a bathroom. I am nothing like you. How can you compare your suffering to—" she shakes her head with a growl and squeezes tighter.
Hermione tenses and struggles in her grip, fighting off panic as her heart pounds and sweat trickles down her back.
No, she can't hurt you. You can just disappear if it gets too bad. She just feels threatened. She needs to hear this, they have to discuss this it's—
She looks into Bellatrix's eyes.
You do have a family. A family waiting for you in the future, who still love you, who forgive you. Don't you see that standing by Him isn't what brings you happiness? That he's just causing you more pain, creating more violence? You know he loses.
Bellatrix shoves her away and she hits the floor with a smack, gasping for breath. A wand aims at her from above.
So, back to square one.
Except this time, she's not going to lie there and take it.
They need to sort this out. Fight it out.
…But…not near the books. Spellfire would be devastating, she shudders to think…
Hermione rubs at her neck and then clears her throat. "Am I wrong? Do you have a counter argument, or just more curses?"
Bellatrix's nostrils flair and her hand twitches. "I don't argue with filth. I've tolerated you this long for the prophecy, but maybe I should teach you a lesson about where you belong."
Hermione searches her face. No…that's—
"You're lying. You're just distracting me from talking about Voldemort—"
"Don't you dare—"
"Fine. Tom Riddle. That is his real name after all. He's just a wizard, a man. Yes, he knows a lot of magic. So what? So do you. So does Dumbledore, McGonagall, the only difference is—"
"The difference, is that he uses his power. He has a vision for a new world. The dawn of a new era where wizardkind will no longer be in hiding. We'll have the whole world for us. For progress, advancement. It will be a golden age, an empire. And I'll be by his side."
Hermione struggles to her feet as Bellatrix becomes lost in the thought. The awe in her eyes, the reverence, it's like…oh.
"…It's a cult. He…Bellatrix. He tricked you. All of you, just for his own power. You must know what a cult is, surely there are books on—"
"It's not a cult. It's a revolution. You're the one that's brainwashed. Believing you belong in our world. Magic doesn't make you a witch. You're not—"
"If you're his right hand, does he let you discuss things with him? Make suggestions? Accept criticism of his plans?"
"Why would I criticise him? He has reasons, tactics, why—"
"Does he allow his followers to read muggle literature? Any books? To learn about the world they want to destroy? Speak to muggles or muggleborns?"
Bellatrix scoffs. "Why should we associate with—"
Hermione laughs in exasperated disbelief. "You don't want to read? Really, Bellatrix? Look where we are. You don't want to research muggles, even to understand your opponent? To understand the enemy?"
At this Bellatrix's stare does falter. Her eyes dart to the shelves of books surrounding them.
Good. Hermione pushes on.
"Has anyone ever left the Death Eaters and survived? Even purebloods? If he's promising freedom, why is there no freedom of choice? Why does his mark burn you? You're his followers. His chosen believers. Why hurt you? Enchain you? You shouldn't be in pain for him, Bellatrix. If his intentions were truly to help you, why would he hurt you? He…he does hurt you, doesn't he? Punish you?"
Hermione takes a hesitant step forwards, and then quickly steps back again as Bellatrix whirls around and comes towards her, wand drawn. "Change can be painful. Necessary. He is teaching us, showing us the importance of his lessons."
How does she not understand— "Like your parents, you mean? Do you think their lessons were fair too?"
Hermione ducks as an unknown spell flies for her head. Shit.
Not— "The books, Bellatrix! Not in the library we—"
"I'm not aiming at the books. Reduc—"
"Protego! Expel—"
"Protego! You dare fight me? Impedi—"
Hermione hurriedly disapparates away to just inside the door. "He found you when you were young, Bellatrix. When you felt powerless. He preyed on your weakness. You were alone and desperate."
She slips through the door as a powerful spell crackles towards her.
Away from the books. Good. Let's burn some of these portraits instead. Prejudiced bloodpurists the lot of them. She readies her wand and backs down the corridor as the doors fly open.
"Difin—"
"Proteg—ah!"
"You can't dodge me forever, mudblood. I'm not weak. I'm never weak. You're weaker than I've ever been, how dare you lecture me on—"
"Is Cissy safe with him? Is Draco? What about Andy? I know you still care about—"
"You don't know anything!" Bellatrix bellows, firing spell after spell as Hermione ducks and dodges, sending up protegos as fast as she can, breathing fast and laboured.
"Andy chose her side. Chose to live in the dirt rather than stay with her family. I don't care what happens to—"
"Stop lying, Bellatrix! You're lying to yourself. You love her. She's your sister. I saw the memories. I felt what you—ah!"
A spell catches her in the shoulder and she jolts back, wand flying backwards as she loses her grip. Ah it—it burns. It stings. What was that? It—
Another spell flies towards her face. She has no wand, she—
"Protego!" A weak shield wavers before her, only just holding off the spells flying towards her by the second.
She backs further down the corridor, portraits screeching as hexes deflect off of walls, pinging off of door handles and shattering vases.
"Bellatrix, please! He turned you from your family. Narcissa is scared her son will die because of him. Why should He do that to you? To your family—stop!"
Bellatrix's wand slices though the air and Hermione throws herself to the ground. That was Dolohov's spell. The one that almost killed her. The witch could kill her, she—
"Draco is suffering for Lucius's mistakes. My Lord is showing that pitiful—"
"He's showing him nothing! Lucius isn't even here! It's Narcissa who is distraught. Crying. Begging for help. He's scaring her!"
Hermione lies on her back on the floor, shielding her face with her arms as the sound of curses stops.
Finally.
She slowly lies her head back on the floor and sighs. "Your little sister, Bellatrix. Please. He's…he's scaring her," she whispers. "He's scaring her, and he's scaring Draco. He's scaring them into killing Dumbledore. So that he can kill Harry. So that he can live forever. That's all he wanted…in the end. In the end…you were gone, and Narcissa had to save herself. Had to save her son. Had to…find her way on her own. Find her way back to Andy."
She stares up at the ceiling as her shoulder throbs, only the sound of disgruntled portraits and her fast breathing filling the corridor. Is the witch still there?
She tries to sit up, but it tugs on her shoulder and she lies back down with a hiss.
Footsteps come towards her. She freezes.
"Tiggy?" Bellatrix croaks.
A pop. "Yes, Mistress?" The elf sounds…
"Stop it, Tiggy. I know, alright? Just some salves for me and the mudblood," she murmurs.
A huff. "For Miss Hermione. She is being right, Miss Cissy is needing you. You is needing to be listening, Miss Bella, to Miss Hermione."
Wow. Did— can house elves really be this blunt? What is she going to—
"Fine. Then the salve for Hermione. She's hurt. We both are. I'm fixing it," Bellatrix grits out.
A pop. And then a clatter.
Her shoulder is really aching now. Hermione grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut, feeling a tear run down her cheek.
And then something cold on her shoulder. A hand sliding across her skin. Hermione is still frozen in place, her breath quickening even as her skin cools, numbs.
"I…do muggles do this? Do they heal one another?"
Hermione lets out a shaky breath. Is this a dream? Is this really— this can't be happening.
She swallows. "Yes. Yes they— we have mediwitches and wizards. They're called doctors. But even ordinary muggles know how to heal basic injuries. We learn it from our parents, or at school, even at work they sometimes have training courses."
She pauses as the hand on her stills.
Keep talking, Hermione. This is your chance. "I…I remember one time, when I was a child, I was playing outside. I climbed a tree. My parents were inside with some friends, just chatting and drinking tea I think, and they thought I was upstairs reading. But I'd seen a bird in a tree. On a nest. I wanted to climb up and look at it. We'd been learning about different animals at school and— anyway. I was curious."
"Vulnera Sanentur."
Oh. She's not listening. She's too busy healing herself to—
"Well? What happened?"
Oh.
"Umm, yes, so, I climbed the tree. It was outside the front of our house. There were other houses nearby, so when I fell— and I did. From quite high up. I wasn't very strong as a child, too much staying inside reading. When I fell, I cried out, and the people living across the close heard me. They ran outside straight away. I can remember crying. My arm hurt so much, and it looked bent and crooked. This man I'd never met ran over to check on me. I was terrified, I couldn't tell him where I lived, and it wasn't very clear, it was a cul-de-sac. It's like…a circle of houses, you know? So. He knew not to move me, in case I was hurt anywhere else. He just talked to me quietly whilst his girlfriend went around knocking on doors to find my parents. I remember he asked me about school. Told me I was brave. That I was being so brave, such a big girl."
She smiles to herself. "I don't know how old I was. Five, maybe? Seven? When my parents found me, I was telling him all I knew about birds and eggs. I almost forgot about my arm. So my parents checked I wasn't hurt anywhere else, and then took me to a hospital. Like St Mungo's. We waited until a doctor was available, and they used something to look at my arm. They have something made of metal that you lie inside and it scans your body. So that you can get an image of someone's bones."
She slowly sits up. Bellatrix is sat on the floor in front of her, corset undone, struggling to rub a salve onto her own back without looking.
"It can see bones? How?"
Oh dear, well that's rather complicated.
"It's rather technical. I could explain but— or get you a book. It takes a lot of knowledge of— anyway. They saw that my bones weren't aligned. That they needed to line them back up. So they gave me something so that I'd fall asleep and not feel any pain, they found the most qualified doctors, and those specialist doctors, called surgeons, cut open my arm and realigned the bones."
Bellatrix's mouth falls open, and Hermione hurriedly continues.
"Then they healed the wound back up, and put a hard material around my arm so that the bone would stay in place. Called a cast. I rested for a few days at home, but I wasn't in pain afterwards. I drew a bird on the cast, and when I went to school some of the other children wrote their names on the cast or drew pictures. They made cards for me, hoping I'd get better soon."
Bellatrix frowns. And then grins. "You had friends? Really? They didn't laugh at you and your strange…cast?"
Hermione lets out a relieved breath and smiles. "Oh no, casts are cool. They're exciting. It showed I was interesting, strong. I'd been to a hospital."
Bellatrix snorts. "You fell out of a tree. What a hero."
Hermione gets to her feet, and cautiously holds out a hand to help Bellatrix up.
Bellatrix stares at it. And then wipes her hands clean on her dress, taking Hermione's hand and jumping to her feet.
And she just…looks at Bellatrix. She doesn't know what to do now, it's…
Bellatrix raises an eyebrow at her.
"Have you ever climbed a tree?" Hermione blurts out.
It's the only question she can think of that won't end in another awkward conversation.
Bellatrix tilts her head sideways at her. "Yes…I never fell out though. Sirius did. Landed on his head. It explains a few things, now that I think about it."
Hermione huffs out a laugh. A joke? About her family?
"I saw him fall down the stairs once. He tripped over Crookshanks. No one else saw. He hit his head quite a lot then too."
Bellatrix squeezes her hand.
Wait.
Oh!
She hastily pulls her hand away and bends down to pick up her wand. How had she not realised…
Why didn't she pull away?
"That ugly cat. I bet it did it on purpose."
What?!
Hermione shoots up with a glare. "He's not ugly! And why would he do that? All Crooks has ever done is help us. He tried to catch Wormtail! He—"
"Alright, alright. Calm down. You'd think that cat was your child the way you see past its every flaw. You're as bad as Cissy. You should hear how she talks about Draco, it's—"
Uh oh.
Draco. Narcissa. Voldemort. Regret? Shame? Fear? Fear leads to anger and cursing and blame and—
Bellatrix looks away to the side. "Thank you. For reminding me what— I didn't mean to be— I'm sorry. For hurting you."
Umm.
What?
"What?"
Bellatrix's eyes slide back to hers. Meet hers. She doesn't even blink, it's rather—
The witch steps closer. Leans closer. She can feel her breath on her cheek.
Hermione's pulse begins to race. What is she—
A sigh against her ear. "I won't say it again, pet. But you have made me…I need to think. Go and have a shower. You're filthy. We can discuss this plan of yours once I'm ready. I need to—"
She stops, leans the side of her forehead against Hermione's.
Oh. Oh what is happening? She's so close, and vulnerable. Honest and thanking her and—
Bellatrix pulls back slightly, looks into Hermione's eyes. Hermione stares back in shock.
Bellatrix rolls her eyes.
And kisses Hermione's cheek.
What?!
Wha—? why—? How did—? Where did—?
Bellatrix has already turned around and walked off down the corridor as Hermione stands there with her mouth open.
"Go, eat something. Have a shower. I'll call you when I'm ready, Hermione. Save your questions."
Her cheek is tingling. Her heart is fluttering and—
Did she just...decide to call her Hermione?
Chapter 23: A Question of AllegianceNotes:
Whelp, I'm back with another long chapter...
I'm sure you don't mind :)
Chapter Text
Hermione takes her time with lunch, nosing around the kitchen under Tiggy's inscrutable stare and chopping up ingredients for a salad. She's rather…she's not sure where she stands with Bellatrix now. The witch had said she needed time to think, and Hermione can't help but agree.
She eats slowly, tries to think through her muddled thoughts. And fails.
She rubs at her shoulder. How many times is she going to have to—
She should have just disapparated. Why did she stay?
It did seem to get through to her but—
She spears a tomato with her fork in exasperation. What is she doing?
She hurt you again.
She kissed you again.
She shoves some salad in her mouth. Just stop thinking about her, Hermione.
She spends her shower not thinking about Bellatrix. She thinks about merpeople instead. And being underwater. Not being underwater with Bellatrix. Definitely not being naked and…not that she remembers. She didn't look at the witch. She was too busy trying not to drown, she didn't—
Anyway. Bellatrix won't be with her when she visits the merpeople. She shouldn't be, she might miss doing something for Voldemort and alter the fabric of time.
Because that's why they're doing this. Working together. They're not friends or— or— she's not here to understand Bellatrix, she's here to find her way back home. To understand time travel.
So. It will be cold in the lake. Maybe she should buy a wetsuit.
Gosh, she really is filthy, this shower water is disgusting. She must have looked awful, no wonder the witch said…
Then why did she…
For someone who says she finds Hermione disgusting, Bellatrix sure does touch her a lot. Mostly grabbing and pushing, but she's held her hand and— and kissed her. That's twice now she's voluntarily…
Is she still a Death Eater now? Because if she's going to happily kill people and then come home to Hermione like it's all fine that is not—
Not come home to her. Hermione doesn't live here. Even if she's having a shower here. And…she might have to borrow some clothes if Bellatrix doesn't want her going back to the cottage yet. For some reason. Why does the most unpredictably complicated person have to be in control of her life?
Dear Merlin she hopes she has casual clothes and not just corsets and ancient dresses.
Although Bellatrix in casual clothes would be quite surreal. She can't even imagine…
"Hermione!"
Oh! Her head, it— Oh, she's calling her like that?
She steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. "Tiggy?"
Tiggy appears with a pop…and a smirk. "Yes, Miss Hermione?"
"Are there any clothes I can borrow? Just for now, I'll be with the merpeople soon anyway, so I'm not sure what I'll be wearing but—"
"Mistress Bellatrix be finding some clothes for you. They is being in her room. She is being waiting. You be quick, little witch-elf."
The thread tugs at her brain again. Ow. Patience. Fine.
She grumbles a thank you at Tiggy, and follows the thread to the bedroom.
And appears nose to nose with Bellatrix.
"Ah! Sorry! Did you just step forwards or something? I didn't mean to…"
Bellatrix's eyes begin to wander downward and Hermione adjusts her towel awkwardly, clearing her throat.
"So, clothes?"
Bellatrix shoves some clothes into her arms and then jumps backwards to sit on a bed.
Her bedroom. Huh. It's rather…normal. Everything looks very old and expensive, but it's nothing dark or gothic. Just…a double bed, a wardrobe, a floor length mirror and a stool in front of a wide window, a chest of drawers. All heavy, polished wood. Walnut maybe. Or oak. And a thick carpet.
"Tired of the no clothes rule already? Some elf you are. Hurry up and get dressed, you can tell me about this plan at the same time. I might get called back to the Dark Lord any minute now, and he's less patient than me. I won't be ignoring that call."
Hermione sighs internally and closes her eyes. So. They're not discussing anything that happened earlier.
She shakes her head and opens her eyes, holding out the piece of clothing. A dress. Black, but no corset, slim fit, not too revealing. Maybe from her youth. Wait. "You want me to get changed in front of you?"
Bellatrix rolls her eyes. "Come on, prude, I've seen it all before. Get on with this plan of yours, you're obviously bursting to tell me. You love planning things."
Hermione can't help but smile at that, and shrugs off the embarrassment to start getting dressed. She's right, it's not like she hasn't seen…it is a bit different now since the kiss. Multiple kisses. But—
Concentrate, Hermione, the plan.
"Alright, well, did you know that merpeople are known to be ancient beings, connected to the past by their long history and oral tradition? I was thinking they might be able to teach us something about travelling from the past to the future…or well, from now, so I can get back. They have an alliance with the centaurs, who represent the future. Between them…maybe they know something wizards don't."
She struggles into the dress, hands reaching around uselessly to try to tie it at the back without magic. What's the incantation again? She doesn't wear enough dresses.
Why hasn't she had a response yet? She looks up at Bellatrix, who's watching her from the bed, lying on her stomach now, swinging her legs in the air.
"How is the past going to help? You don't want to go back any further, you know. One decade was enough. You really think some slippery fish creatures and some stargazing horses are going to— oh for the love of Merlin, stop trying, you can't reach. Give up. Here."
She waves her wand, and the dress tightens up her back.
"Thanks, uhh…no underwear?"
Bellatrix grins. "Just be careful how you sit. I'm not giving you any of mine, no matter how much you beg."
Umm…don't think about that, Hermione. Get back on track.
She sits down next to Bellatrix on the bed, who rolls onto her back to look up at her. Hermione is suddenly struck by how effortlessly beautiful she is. She bites her lip…
And then scolds herself and shrugs casually. "It's the only idea we have though, isn't it? It can't hurt. So…I'll go, and maybe check in with you for this prophecy thing. You can't be missing for very long again, you're right. We can't change anything and…you have duties. Missions. Meetings."
Bellatrix looks up at her and opens her mouth as if to say something. Then stops. Then opens her mouth again. "I've been thinking. About what you said. About…it may be difficult for me to continue…my behaviour might change. I think I already knew on some level that my goals had…shifted. Since I saw your memories. Cissy noticed. Snape might know. Now it won't be long before—"
She sits up and clears her throat.
"The prophecy said, you know, bla bla bla love potions, chains, whatever. And then…through sand and sea, do not drift asunder, then both, now lost, shall be returned, though not without the other."
Hermione nods cautiously, not quite daring to hope. "Yes, I think the sand and sea part was my invisibility. You helping me with wandless magic. I don't think I would have known what to do without that…push."
Bellatrix groans and collapses back down on her stomach. "That's not the problem though, is it? Do not drift asunder. We have to stay together if we both want to survive this. How can we do that if I have to be playing my part elsewhere?" she grumbles into the duvet.
Play a part? Goal change? This means—
"You've changed your mind about him, haven't you?" Hermione whispers.
Bellatrix doesn't reply.
Bloody hell. This is— this is huge! It worked!
She breaks out in a wide grin. Ha! Take that, Tom Riddle. One less follower. Your right hand just stepped down!
Oh.
She must be terrified.
Hermione clears her throat. "You're stronger than him, you know. He's completely lost…he's split his soul. Into eight pieces. He's barely clinging to sanity. Whoever trained you, mentored you, he's long gone. Even if he had been trying to help you…I don't think there's any chance of that now."
More silence.
And then a sigh. "I know."
Hermione stares down at the witch. She doesn't know what to say. Should she—
Bellatrix huffs out a breath. "When I saw— when you showed me, about the horcruxes. When Potter said— it all made sense. How much he changed since I was a girl, how different he is now. I didn't want to see it, but…as soon as I left Az— when he broke me free, I couldn't wait to hear his plans, his news, to see him again."
Hermione stays as still as possible, barely daring to breathe as Bellatrix lays her head in her arms, whispering into the bedding like she's scared to say the words out loud.
"Instead…he's lost control. He should never have split his soul at all, let alone so many times. How could he be so— I thought he was intelligent. A visionary. The obsession with Potter, it consumes him. It was never— Potter was just one baby, in one prophecy, it didn't need to be his downfall. He's not supposed to be consumed by his rage. The violence has no purpose. If he's going to torture people, at least have a reason to— All of our— We had other plans. A revolution. What happened to the future? The dream of…"
She rolls over to look up at Hermione again, searching her eyes desperately.
What is she looking for? Hermione just smiles at her reassuringly. This must be so hard for the witch to admit. She can't believe she's being so open.
Whatever it is she's looking for, Bellatrix seems to find it, and sits up, looking down at her lap and fiddling with her dress. "I thought he was like me. And…I think he is. That's the problem."
What on Earth does—
Abused lonely child, no love. Hatred of the Muggle world, does everything to survive. Finds knowledge and power. Becomes consumed by that power. Tries to control everything but loses control of themselves. Lets the fear win. Destroys themselves. Lashes out and watches the world fall around them.
Oh. Oh so that's what she'd meant when—
You foolish witch! You stupid, self-righteous, misguided— how did you know?!
How did you know I wouldn't let the world crumble?
How did you know I…I could destroy everything.
She slowly reaches to take Bellatrix's hand. It's cold and trembling. She doesn't pull away.
"You're right. He is a lot like you. But that's not the problem. The problem is, he isn't enough like you. He doesn't love like you do. Doesn't feel like you do. I've felt your emotions, Bellatrix. He's turned his back on the world because he doesn't feel anything for it. You…you feel everything, with such an intensity that it hurts. That's why you chose to save the world. To protect it. You always choose to protect the things you love."
Bellatrix laughs hollowly. "Well I haven't been doing a good job of that lately. Cissy is beside herself and Draco—ah!"
She pulls her hand free and clutches her arm. "Oh Morgana's tits, not now!" The Mark.
She rubs a hand over her face tiredly, frowning, and Hermione grabs her shoulders, looking at her determinedly.
"He can't read your mind. If that's what you're worried about— oh! Why don't I come with you! Maybe I can make your mind invisible or—"
Bellatrix snorts and shoves her away, surprisingly gently. "Gryffindors. You bloody idiot, that will make me even more suspicious. The point is to not alter my mind. I'll just go. You go talk to some mermaids and report back later." She points her wand at Hermione "I'm still in charge, remember?"
Hermione shakes her head at her in exasperation, and Bellatrix gives her a poke with the wand before getting off the bed, stretching.
"Fine then, yes, you're in charge. Call me if you need me…" she can't help but… "Mistress."
Bellatrix's head snaps round to meet her eye mid-spin as she starts to apparate. Oh no! She'd meant to lighten the mood with a joke but…did that come off as flirting?
Maybe.
Argh! Legilimency! She forgot!
Bellatrix's face falls into a smug smirk.
She disapparates with a wink.
Hermione flops back onto the bed. What is she doing?
She turns to groan into a pillow, letting herself sink into the bedding. She's so tired. Maybe that's why she keeps—
Oh it's been so long since she's laid in a bed, this is amazing, she forgot how soft and…she should really get up but…just a few minutes…
This is definitely Bellatrix's bed. It smells like her…she's not sure what it is…just…like her…
She lazily waves a hand at the curtains and they slide shut. The room falls into darkness. Just a few minutes…
"…mione?"
Hmm? What?
She blinks her eyes open. Where is she—? Oh.
It's dark. A lantern is burning on the bedside table. How long has—
"Sorry, must have fallen asleep. What's the—"
What?! What on earth happened? She laughs before she can hold it back.
Is that…smoke? Or…but why…? The colours! And what happened to her face?
"I don't want to talk about it," Bellatrix grits out.
"Lumos," Hermione gasps. She needs to see this properly, this is ha!
Hermione clamps her hands over her mouth to hold the laughter in.
The witch has different brightly coloured powders littering her body, even in her hair. Smoke is rising from her, and there's a definite burning smell, as well as…
"Ew! You smell terrible, it's almost like…wait... You attacked the twins' joke shop, didn't you? Your face! Did you pick up a punching telescope? Why—"
"It's not funny. Nox!" The room falls dark. "And you're one to talk. The same thing happened to you!"
Hermione peers around in the darkness as Bellatrix's voice moves around the room.
"Well exactly! Why on earth would you touch it after—"
"They threw it at me, I caught it. I was too busy avoiding the fireworks and— it doesn't matter. What are you still doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the bottom of a lake?"
Hermione gives up on squinting into the dark and lies back down. "I didn't sleep much last night after…um…well anyway, no, haven't gone yet."
She hears a door creak open, and a light comes on in an adjoining room. A shower starts running.
Hermione stares up at the ceiling as her heart rate decides to skyrocket. This is suddenly rather domestic. Should she leave? Or…is it stranger to leave now?
The darkness isn't helping. She clears her throat. "Lumos."
Well. That just reminds her that she's in Bellatrix's bedroom. "Umm…Tiggy?"
Tiggy appears with a pop. "Yes, Miss Hermione? You is enjoying Mistress's bed?"
Wha—
Tiggy grins at her, and she scowls. "You've been talking to Master Spitsy, haven't you? Honestly, such gossips, the both of you."
Tiggy chuckles. "What is you being wanting, Miss Hermione?"
Oh. Right. "I wanted to read some books on merpeople, but I'm still not sure which books are safe. Could you bring me some that aren't cursed?"
Tiggy nods, and a stack of books appears on the bed. "Spitsy be explaining. You be needing these. They is being proud, tricky beings, merpeople. You is needing to know the rules. They is not being like elves, they is not saying the rules…but you is still not wanting to break them."
Oh dear, that doesn't sound good. She swallows and pulls a book towards her.
"Thank you for the advice…I might have to ask you more about them before I leave tomorrow."
"And Mistress."
What?
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
Tiggy's eyes narrow. "I be telling you, you not be leaving her. And she is being needed in the lake. They is listening to a Black. They is remembering."
Wha—
They disappear with a crack.
Well what did that mean?
So, by ancient, does it literally mean…
She pulls another book towards her with a frown. See that one said something completely different. How is she supposed to know—
The bed dips down next to her, and she puts out a hand to stop herself rolling into Bellatrix, not turning from the book. Now where is that passage about…
Hmm, where's the British section? There we are. Scotland.
Aha! "Bellatrix! Listen to this! It says some Scottish wizarding communities believe they are direct descendants of merpeople, or Ceasg, as the females would often come ashore in human form to mate with or even marry wizards. And they believe that the mermaids can't die as they retain their life force in a golden egg. Now this book said that—"
"—That they are actually shapeshifters known as Finfolk, who suck the youth out of human lovers to obtain their life force and thus live forever."
Hermione turns to stare at the witch next to her. Who has gotten under the covers, wearing a nightdress, and at some point grabbed a book for herself when Hermione wasn't paying attention.
She raises an eyebrow at Hermione. "These are my books. From my library. I have spent the past however many decades trying to find a way for a wizard to become immortal."
Right.
Hermione continues staring. She can't help it. Finally someone has read more than her, can finish her rambling thoughts, doesn't look confused when she opens a book or cites a source.
Bellatrix looks back down at her own book. "You're doing it again," she murmurs. "You need to learn occlumency, I don't need to know how sapiosexual you are. I'm surprised you're not a Ravenclaw."
Hermione hurriedly looks away. Sapio— oh no. She fiddles with the sheets in embarrassment.
"I…I almost was. A Ravenclaw. I think all the riddles would drive me mad though. I'm a bit too…blunt. Straightforward. For that."
Bellatrix snorts. "Yes, subtlety and cunning is certainly not your thing. How you still manage to be such a mystery I don't—"
She snaps her mouth shut.
Mystery? She thinks Hermione is mysterious?
"Stop it."
Hermione just keeps smirking. "Stop what?"
Ow! Did something just bite her lip? What spell would—
"Get that look off your face. What I meant was that your Gryffindor recklessness makes you rather unpredictable. You act on impulse. I'm not used to people taking the first action that springs to mind. Slytherins don't do that."
Hermione sucks at her lip and frowns. "But you do that. All the time."
Bellatrix snaps the book shut and turns her body to face her, crossing her legs. "Do I? You're about to meet with beings related to the fae folk, ancient beings, planning and strategy is important. You have to play the game. Be Slytherin. They won't give you a list of rules like the elves. They'll try to trick you. Trap you for their amusement."
Well that's just perfect. She folds her arms with a huff. "Do I have to play the game? I can just disapparate anyway if it goes wrong. I don't like all that slytherin sneakiness, it's exhausting. And to answer your question, no, you don't act like the other slytherins. You always do whatever you want and just threaten anyone if they tell you not to."
Bellatrix looks down to casually examine her nails. "Did I kill you in the Department of Mysteries, or did I find out who you were to assess the threat?"
What? "Well—"
"Did I kill you when you caused us to fall several feet to our almost deaths, or did I interrogate you into opening the door?"
"You tortured me! You—"
"When the love potion wore off, did I go straight to my Lord, or did I decide to once again determine the threat first? Did I kill you when you awoke me from the sleeping draught? Did I kill the elves when they spoke down to me? Torture them into revealing their secrets? Did I let you get caught without any magic and expelled from their school? Did I refuse to sleep next to you? To train you? Did I obliviate you when you saw my memories and then turned your back on me?"
Hermione lets out a shaky breath. "No…but, are you saying…did you want to?"
Bellatrix slowly looks up. "All of those thoughts crossed my mind. But I didn't act on the impulse. I reminded myself of my goals, of the consequences, and I stopped myself. Thought it through."
She…almost killed her…so many times. She almost obliviated—
She didn't want to train her. To even sleep next to her. How much is she putting up with just to—
Hermione scrambles off the bed and backs away, hitting into a wall. She lets the invisibility wash over her mind.
Bellatrix frowns at her. "What? What's wrong with you? What are you doing?"
Snape said Bellatrix was good at ignoring physical and mental pain. Is that it? She knows the world might end if she doesn't put up with Hermione. She even said how annoying it was that the prophecy makes them stay together. Is this just another injury that she's putting off healing? Ignoring?
Is sleeping next to Hermione so terrible? Did she—
Why did she kiss her? Is it all part of a plan?
Bellatrix gets off the bed and moves around towards her. "Hello? What's your problem? Sit back down, you look like you're going to—"
A sob escapes Hermione's mouth. She doesn't know why. Bellatrix's eyes widen and she tilts her head, looking at Hermione like some puzzle she can't quite piece together.
Enough. She has to— she tries to turn invisible, but nothing happens. She's not in control, she's feeling—
So alone. Alone and surrounded by tricks and riddles and snakes and—
She apparates away. Back to the light chamber. Back to Master Spitsy. Her one friend.
Except she doesn't move. It doesn't work. Why isn't it working? It's like she's stuck. Something is keeping her here, tying her down.
She can't breathe.
Her mind isn't even protected anymore. She has no protection. She's vulnerable and weak. She looks over at Bellatrix in terror, flattening herself against the wall.
If she decides to hurt her again…she can't stop her.
Hermione. I'm not going to hurt you. Calm down you stupid—
Stupid. She is stupid. So stupid. How can they work together? She wants to kill her. Has always wanted to—
Will you listen? I don't want to kill you!
What?
Hermione blinks her eyes back into focus.
"You…you don't? But…I'm a muggleborn."
Bellatrix breaks eye contact and takes a step back, pulling herself up to sit on a chest of drawers.
"I know, I'm not sure why myself, it's all very— it's your fault! You and your open mind and your naïve trust. I— I don't know why— I shouldn't have used so much legilimency on you. It's confusing. I feel like I've lived with you for…our minds are..." She trails off, frowning at the floor.
Hermione grits her teeth and swallows. "Then promise me."
Bellatrix looks up, her expression even more puzzled.
Hermione nods to herself and continues. "Promise me you're not going to hurt me again. Because I don't think I can do this anymore. I can't stand it. Feeling unsafe. Not knowing if— promise me. Or I think I'll have to leave, no matter the cost."
Bellatrix lets out a disbelieving scoff. "What? You get hit with one spell and suddenly give up? Just let it all go. The prophecy. The timeline. Everything. Just because you got hurt? You said pain wouldn't stop you. That you've learnt to be strong."
Hermione walks closer, shaking her head. "I deserve to feel safe, I can't keep forgiving— I can't go on like this. All the doubts and— I don't want to be scared of you anymore. I've had enough. No more pain."
Bellatrix lets out a throaty chuckle and lowers herself to stand on the carpet. "Pain is a part of life, pet, we both know that. Sometimes you just have to take it. Pain gives you strength, power. I thought you learnt that too."
Hermione smiles sadly at her. No. No that isn't what she's learnt at all. "Bellatrix…strength is strength. Determination. Drive. Belief in yourself. That's strength. Pain…just hurts. It hurts so much. It destroys. Pain is not a part of life. Not this kind of pain. No one should have to feel this. Nothing is worth living in fear for your life."
Bellatrix lets out another derisive scoff…but her eyes dart to the side as she folds her arms.
Hermione continues softly. "Promise me. It doesn't have to be for a reason, it can just be…a pact. We're allies. You won't ever hurt me, and I won't ever hurt you."
"What do you want me to do? Make the unbreakable vow? A blood oath? Seal it with a kiss?" Bellatrix jokes, pushing past her towards the bed.
Hermione grabs her arm as she passes and looks her firmly in the eye. "No. I want your word. Just a promise. But you have to mean it. Because I promise you, if you break it, there will be no last chance. I won't be coming back."
She stares into shocked eyes, meaning every word. No more. Juggling all these outbursts, never fully knowing, never understanding. It's all too much.
"You're asking me to— How can you ask me to— How else can I—"
Hermione nods. Yes. She's asking her to lay down her weapon. To turn off the defence mechanism that has served her all the years of her life. To trust Hermione.
Bellatrix wrenches her arm away and staggers back from her, shaking her head.
And disapparates with a crack.
Hermione's hand comes up to cover her mouth and she closes her eyes.
Okay.
She slowly exhales. It's okay, Hermione. It had to be done.
You're safe.
You're on your own.
She takes one last look around the empty room, and disapparates with a sigh.
Chapter 24: SafeChapter Text
Hermione reaches around blindly on the bedside table for her wand. What time is it? Where—
"Tempus," she mumbles, giving up on her wand altogether and wrenching her eyes open.
"It is already being nine o'clock, Miss Hermione. You is needing to get up."
Ah! Hermione sits up with a start. "Tiggy! What are you doing here?"
She is in Shell Cottage, right? Yesterday wasn't a dream or something. She looks around at the pale, seaside decor, rubbing at her face. Okay, definitely Shell Cottage.
She pulls back the bedding and sits on the edge of the bed, staring down at Tiggy in confusion. Who holds out a piece of parchment for her to take.
What?
I, Bellatrix (Black) Lestrange, promise not to deliberately cause harm to one Hermione Jean Granger.
"Tiggy?" Hermione asks, eyebrows raising in disbelief.
Tiggy just tuts. "Mistress is telling you that she is meaning it, and that you is to come back now. For breakfast, before yous is going to the lake."
She really…
Just like that? Just like that, and she doesn't have to be scared of her anymore?
A strangled laugh escapes Hermione's lips. This can't be happening. She must still be dreaming.
The monster is gone. Her boggart is—
Can she trust this? This piece of paper?
She gets to her feet and pulls on some clothes, frowning. This seems too good to be true.
She raises an eyebrow at Tiggy, who just stands there.
"Why, Tiggy? How do I know— why on Earth would she do this for me? What changed her mind?"
Tiggy carries on staring. Well. She's not giving into stubbornness that easily. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom to wash her face and get herself ready for the day.
Won't hurt her? Really?
She'd seemed scared. This is about trust. Trust doesn't grow overnight, Hermione knows that much. It takes…
A sigh from behind her. She glances into the mirror to see Tiggy leaning against the edge of the bath, arms crossed.
"You is not believing Mistress? This is being the problem?"
Well… "It just seems rather out of character, Tiggy. She might mean it now, in the moment, but as soon as she gets what she wants from me…she keeps hurting me. Why should that change?"
She splashes some water on her face and reaches blindly for a towel.
"She is not being sleeping last night, you know this? She is being thinking. You is getting into her head, little witch-elf. Finally. This darkness is muddling her thoughts for too long. Why you is thinking Tiggy tell you to stay? You is needed."
Oh. She—
"She didn't sleep?"
Tiggy shakes their head solemnly. "You is right that this is being hard for Mistress. She is not easily trusting. But…nobody often be trusting her either. You is trusting her, Miss Hermione. You is…seeing her. Not many people be seeing Mistress in her life. Seeing her and not be trying to change her. She is thinking this Lord be seeing her but…"
Tiggy shakes their head with a chuckle. "He not be seeing anything. He not be looking. You be looking, Miss Hermione. You be…a kind elf. A strong elf. A thinking elf. I is thinking Mistress not be knowing why she be trusting you…but she be trusting. And she is meaning it."
They hold out the piece of parchment once more, and Hermione takes it. Lets her eyes study the words.
"I can trust her word? Her promise?"
She slowly looks up. Tiggy is smiling fondly. "Oh yes. Mistress is a loyal elf. A protecting elf. You ever see her break a promise?"
Well…no. Not really.
And the smile morphs into a glare as Tiggy points their finger at her. "She be meaning this, so she be trusting you now, Miss Hermione. You be nice to her. Tiggy is telling you."
It's just so hard. Tiggy makes it sound easy but— Trust Bellatrix completely? She'd tried that before, and where did that get her? Hanging upside down bleeding and crying whilst the witch shouted curses at her.
It was maybe to help her but—
She promises not to hurt you, Hermione. And Tiggy is right. Bellatrix may be rather unpredictable, but if you know anything about her it's that she's obsessively loyal. She doesn't flit back and forth between allegiances, as unyielding as her wand. So if she means this…
Hermione sighs. "Fine. I'll come back."
Tiggy grins. "Oh I is knowing you is a good one, Miss Hermione. Yes, you is helping Mistress now."
Yeah yeah.
She feels out for the thread, and disapparates.
Bellatrix is in the kitchen, reading the Prophet over breakfast. At first glance she seems calm, not even looking up as Hermione arrives. She does appear to be holding her breath though.
She doesn't look that tired. Did she really not sleep?
Hermione clears her throat. "Thank you. If you really do mean it."
Bellatrix turns a page, licking her thumb. "That's what I said, isn't it?"
Hermione sits down on a stool next to her. "So…no matter what I do? Whatever I say?"
Bellatrix shrugs and takes a sip of orange juice.
And Hermione feels a lump form in her throat, an embarrassing tear slide down her cheek. It's over. Finally.
She cautiously lays her hand over Bellatrix's wrist.
The witch's head snaps around and she does a double take. "What's wrong now? I thought this was what you wanted, you're crying again?"
Hermione sniffs and shakes her head with a smile. "I'm just so relieved. I can't believe— you'll never hurt me again, you promise?"
Bellatrix rolls her eyes. "Don't go rubbing it in. It's just so the world doesn't blow up, alright? If we have to be allies for this to work, then fine. I'll put up with it."
Hermione pulls her hand away with a frown. "But you said you didn't want to hurt me."
Bellatrix groans. "I don't! I mean I do! I— argh! For fuck's sake. Do you want to hurt me?"
What? Well…
"No. No of course I don't want to hurt you."
Bellatrix spins sideways to face her. "Really? It's not a stupid question. You've hurt me before. You hated me. Why did that change all of a sudden, hmm? Have you never hated me so much you wanted to hurt me?"
Well she— it was when— she sometimes still— but not really—
Bellatrix chuckles softly. "Exactly, pet. Looks like we're in the same boat.
Oh.
Hermione smiles. "So…even if I say something bad about you? If I…I don't know, annoy you? You'll just be all sensible and rational now?"
Bellatrix raises an eyebrow. "And what could you say about me? Come on, try something, I dare you." There's a glint to her eyes. A challenge.
Hmm. "You…" She looks at Bellatrix. Really looks at her, sat there with her legs crossed at the ankles, swinging to hit against the counter, in her usual black dress and corset combo, newspaper scrunched in her lap, lip twitching as she tries not to smirk and eye still bruised from the telescope mishap.
"You're nothing like any other pureblood I've ever met," Hermione finds falling out of her mouth.
Bellatrix seems to freeze for a split second. And then she grins toothily. "I'm nothing like any person you've ever met, pet. There's only one of me."
Hermione finds herself smiling back softly. How true.
She holds out a hand for Bellatrix to shake. "Allies, then."
The witch doesn't hesitate. Just reaches out and clasps her hand, not breaking eye contact.
Well that's suspicious. Why does she still look so mischievous? There's a gleam to her eyes and—
She turns Hermione's hand palm down and tugs it closer, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Hermione feels the breath leave her lungs in one fell swoop.
Bellatrix smirks. "Allies."
Again with the— why does she keep—
Bellatrix lets go of her hand and spins around to jump off her stool. "Gotta go. Duty calls. I hope you've got all this out of your system now and we can get on with this mermaid thing later. Because I'm coming with you. Sand and sea, remember?"
Hermione nods dumbly, still a little off balance.
Bellatrix gives her one last nod, and disapparates away.
Umm.
Well. Okay. Suppose it's breakfast time.
She grabs a plate and a couple of slices of toast, buttering them distractedly.
A Bellatrix who won't hurt her, and actually wants to spend time with her. How bizarre.
She takes a bite of toast.
Who keeps kissing her for no apparent reason.
Is she just being…they're not friends so it isn't— and Bellatrix does like witches so— does Hermione want her to—
It had been nice to kiss her before…
If she really focuses on that night, she can still feel the ghost of her lips, a warm body beneath her and—
Stop it, Hermione. Concentrate. You can have a sexuality crisis later. You have bigger problems. You're a decade in the past for Godric's sake!
Time travel. Tricky merpeople.
She carries on eating. So. Think like a slytherin. Be a slytherin, for the merpeople, or ceasg, or finfolk or whatever they call themselves.
What's your goal?
Find out about time travel.
What's their goal?
Umm. Keep their secrets? Not interact with wizardkind? Find some…amusement in her?
So…don't tell them what you want. And don't just do whatever they say. But don't let them know you're not doing as they say. Be respectful. But don't follow their rules. Whatever those might be…
Well, that just sounds impossible.
She finishes her breakfast and sends her plate to wash itself in the sink.
"Tiggy?"
Tiggy looks up from where they've been sitting by the fire. Knitting. She hasn't asked, it's just so odd it…anyway.
She clears her throat. "Could you tell me more about the merpeople?"
Tiggy looks back down. "I's could."
Hermione waits. Tiggy continues knitting.
Argh, Tiggy is so—
"Well then may you tell me, please."
Tiggy chuckles. "I is not being able to tell you everything. It is being forbidden. But I is telling you that they will be trying to use Mistress, take her, and they is not being caring about you. Tiggy suggests you be telling them you is Mistress's mate."
What?! Hermione sprays a mouthful of orange juice across the kitchen counter.
"Wha— I'm not— we're not—"
Tiggy calmly looks over at her. "Whether you is or you isn't, you is needing to tell them you is. Or they is taking her for themselves. If she is belonging to you…maybe they is killing you…or maybe they is accepting you. I is not knowing."
Taking her? Belonging to?
"What do you mean taking her? You said they'd listen to her. That Bellatrix has to go. What do you mean taking? And a person doesn't belong to someone. Even if we were— which we're not, I mean, I'd never own her. Even her— she has a husband and he doesn't even live here! Where is he, by the way? I almost— I forgot— Oh Merlin, she's married! I forgot he was still alive! What—"
A loud clap startles her.
"Spitsy is being right. You is too much a thinking elf. So much you is not being thinking. You is talking of Mr Lestrange? He is having his own house. They is sharing a name, connections, money, yes. This is all. This is contract. This is all. Mistress is not being belonging to him. And the merpeople is knowing this. She is more belonging to you. You is having the thread. Tiggy sees it. So they is seeing it."
Hermione rubs her hands over her face. The thread. Again.
"What is this bloody thread? And…you said they might kill me. Why do they want Bellatrix so much? What for?"
She starts cleaning up the orange juice by hand and then remembers she's a witch and mutters a tergeo and a scourgify.
"They is wanting to use her. Manipulate her. Is…political. Scheming. They is using everything to…I is not allowed to say. But you is needing to have worth. Power. Value."
Oh dear. Is Hermione worth anything to a mermaid? What do they even value? Shells?
No. Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Just because you never liaised with merpeople at work doesn't mean you haven't read about…fishing zones. Ownership rights. Wizarding bylaws. Well. That could help…she supposes.
A sudden warmth fills her heart, a comforting glow. Maybe today is a good day after all. She is having a rather good morning and—
Oh. A patronus? Who is—
A doe. Oh dear.
The doe walks up to her cautiously, sniffs at her. And then a deep voice vibrates through the room. It's rather unsettling.
"I assume you are still alive and well, seeing as the world has yet to end and a certain witch is being as aggravating as usual. Why you have failed to contact me, therefore, I cannot imagine. As free moments for myself are few and far between, I suggest you hurry to meet me at the usual place. I won't wait."
Sarky bastard. She doesn't owe him her free time, he—
He saved Bellatrix's life. And kept her secret…presumably. Actually, no! He told Narcissa, the blabbermouth! He has some explaining to do!
She pops straight to Shell Cottage with a huff, not even bothering to send her patronus first. She assumes that's the usual place.
It's as they left it, the kitchen half-tidied from Snape-Narcissa. She hadn't stopped downstairs last night to sort it all out, just apparated straight to her room.
The pasta is going mouldy on the table. How disgusting.
She wrinkles her nose and vanishes it, sending the dishes to wash in the sink and looking out the window. No sign of Snape. Is she in the wrong place?
"No homenum revelio? I'm beginning to seriously doubt your intelligence, Miss Granger."
She manages not to jump, and slowly turns around, wand at the ready.