*Hermione remembers *

Hermione sat on the bed in the bedroom she shared with Ron and took out a crumpled piece of parchment from a drawer by the bed. It was many years old, yellowing, but the words were printed and still clearly legible.

Ron was at work at his brother, George's shop, Rose at Hogwarts and Hugo was spending the day with Lily at Harry and Ginny's. She was safe.

She unfolded the paper and turned it round to view the photograph it contained. It was part of the 'Daily Prophet'. She had torn it out during her fifth year at Hogwarts.

The image was of a witch with long dark, straggly hair and dark, proud brooding eyes set in a gaunt arrogant smile danced playfully on her thin was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione had heard of her once or twice before yes, Hermione thought smiling slightly at the picture, your known by the company you keep, but this image was the first time she had seen the death eater and something about her captivated Hermione.

Years in Azkaban had destroyed much of Bellatrix's looks, but despite this, she was still a beautiful woman.

Hermione, to this day, didn't know what made her keep this image.

It wasn't to remind her of her teenage years, ruined by Bellatrix's kind. No, she still had those heinous memories seared into her memory. They still came back to haunt her in her dreams.

Nor was it to remind her of the death eater herself. Hermione still bore the scars of the torture Bellatrix had inflicted upon her. The word 'Mudblood' could still be seen clearly on her forearm and a constant reminder of everything she had gone through.

Something about that picture had made Hermione's heart leap when she saw it. At first, she put it down to fear and shock, but later…

She couldn't get that face out of her mind and found herself feeling strangely comforted when she was looking at the image.

She couldn't explain the feeling, she hadn't felt like that ever before, she was only 15 after all, still little more that a child, despite everything she had already been through.

It was only later, after the battle at the ministry, where Sirius died, did she realise she was in love with Bellatrix.

She still was, despite everything that had happened. Even now, knowing how she felt, Hermione felt sick to the pit of her stomach with disgust at herself. Why this woman? A Deatheater!

This was wrong. Seriously wrong. It made no sense and yet it felt so right.

This woman had tortured her, killed Dobby and Sirius as well as torturing Neville's Parents into insanity and countless others, yet she could not deny the way she felt.

She loved Ron dearly. She really did. He made her happy, but then there was Bellatrix…

Perhaps it was knowing nothing could ever happen between them, that even if she was alive, it would be forbidden, was what made Hermione feel this this way. Bellatrix was forbidden fruit and that made Hermione want her more. What a heartache loving you turned out to be thought Hermione.

Hermione remembered the first time she saw Bellatrix in the flesh.

It had been in the department of mysteries.

She had heard her before actually seeing her.

Bellatrix had spoken in a harsh voice which sounded as though it was getting used to being used again after many years.

Hermione's stomach had clenched in both fear and excitement: fear at suddenly being surrounded by death eaters, excitement at being face to face with the woman she couldn't stop thinking about.

She had stared in the direction her voice was coming from, hoping to make eye contact but fearing it too.

Bellatrix seemed to be too interested in Harry and the prophecy to care about the others.

Then she had laughed. It was harsh, loud and sounded half mad. It pierced Hermione's very soul and made her gasp slightly.

When Bellatrix had lowered her hood, Hermione saw the object of her affection's face for the first time.

It was hollow and gaunt but her whole face seemed to dance with life, especially her eyes which seemed ablaze with energy.

She was quivering with anticipation at the thought of torturing again. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and to Hermione seductively, at which she had let out a moan of longing as Harry had yelled at her.

Shortly after that she had been knocked unconscious and missed the events that had followed.

She had awoken and her first thoughts were for Bellatrix and if she had survived.

When she had discovered about Sirius, she felt a deep sadness that this war was turning cousin against cousin and making it harder for Hermione to justify her feelings for a Death eater when they were on opposite sides.

But she knew then that she did love Bellatrix.

If only there was a way of telling her this. But, she was, to be quite honest, a Mudblood.

Bellatrix would be disgusted at the thought.

The second time the two of them had met had been so horrifying, yet such sweet agony all at once.

It was in the Malfoy's Manor after the snatchers had caught them.

Bellatrix had stopped right in front of her, gazing intently at her face, trying to recognise her.

It was all Hermione could do to stop herself blurting out her feelings and throwing herself at the mercy of her beloved.

It had been two long years since she had seen her and how long she had yearned to see her once more. Her heart pounded in her breast and her legs felt weak as she had held that gaze, desperately trying to communicate her feelings to the older woman.

She had felt hope and excitement when Bellatrix had singled her out but the fear in the death eater's eyes and voice made Hermione quake. There was something wrong.

Then she was being dragged roughly away and thrown on the floor. She lost sight of Harry and Ron as they were taken to the cellar.

The next moment, Bellatrix was standing over her, oh, how she had wanted to pull her down beside her and run her hands over that body.

Bellatrix trod down hard on her hand and hissed, "How did you get into my vault?"

Hermione was perplexed and didn't understand. She shook her head and mouthed wordlessly, trying not to cry out.

"Liar!" Bellatrix cried and kicked her hard several times in the ribs which caused Hermione to scream in pain.

"Maybe this will loosen your tongue, Crucio!" The pain was unbearable and she screamed louder that she ever had in her life.

She couldn't understand why the woman she loved was being like this to her. Perhaps Bellatrix was skilled in Occulmency and had read Hermione's feelings? But that didn't explain why the sword mattered.

"Well?" Bellatrix had snarled, "Where did you get the sword?"

"We... We found it" she whimpered.

The Bellatrix had suddenly leapt upon her. Her knees between Hermione's thighs, her face had been inches from the tormentors. She could feel the warmth of her breath on her face. Bellatrix's heaving chest directly above Hermione's. She had suddenly felt exhilarated at the closeness of their bodies. It felt so right and natural.

But Bellatrix's eyes had not shown anything other than fear and anger.

She had stared at Hermione for several seconds before twisting her body sideways and letting her weight pin her to the floor and grabbed Hermione's upper arm with one hand. Hermione gasped at the direct touch. Bellatrix had surprisingly soft hands. Bellatrix drew her wand and had grinned menacingly at Hermione before tracing the letter 'M' into her lower arm with the wand. Hermione screamed with agony and sobs racked her body.

She had often dreamt of Bellatrix lying on her like she was but never in this situation.

Hermione felt Bellatrix's heart beating against her own breast and it was such sweet heaven but the torture would surely kill her.

"This will stop here if you tell the truth" the older woman had said calmly, almost sweetly.

"I… I am! P…P…Please don't" she had found it hard to talk.

Then more agony as 'U' and 'D' were added. She could feel the warm trickle of blood down her arm from the cuts.

"You clearly got it from my vault! What else did you take?" Bellatrix screamed, enraged.

"Nothing, I swear. We never went to Gringotts." She had gasped.

She screamed again as the word 'Blood' was carved. She wasn't sure how much more she could take, her mind was in turmoil, torn between her love for the Deatheater and the pain that was inflicted upon her and confusion about what she meant about the sword and her vault.

"I… don't… understand…" she said weakly.

"Filth! Of course you do- Crucio!"Bellatrix had then let that curse torture Hermione for over 5 minutes before relenting; she now stood over her again.

Hermione was shaking visibly and drenched in sweat.

"The sword must be a copy" she whispered.

"Ha! A likely story! Fetch the goblin, Draco!"

As Draco had gone to do his aunts bidding, Bellatrix had pointed her wand once more.

"Please. Stop!" begged Hermione.

"Ha-ha! Beg all you want scumbag, there's more where that came from. Crucio!"

The pain engulfed her once again but this time, it was too much and she had lost consciousness.

She had come round in Shell cottage with a slight nick on her neck. She had been told Bellatrix had tried to hold her to ransom with a knife to her neck to make Harry and Ron surrender.

She had been scarred, both mentally and physically by that encounter with the Deatheater which had made her feel even more confused and angry about her feelings for her.

She was wasting her time brooding over a woman who quite clearly couldn't feel anything other than hatred with a vile urge to dominate everyone and everything.

Still, she had pined, remembering how close their bodies had been with joy and how it had almost made the physical pain that had been inflicted bearable.

When the day came for her to become her beloved, in order to break into Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts, she had felt strangely exhilarated at the thought, yet terrified as well.

As well as love and longing, Hermione now felt a new emotion when thinking of the older woman, fear.

She knew she had only narrowly escaped from that that experience with her life.

Now, she had been faced with the task of becoming her, holding that wand.

The very wand that had caused her so much pain and suffering as well countless others. She loved Bellatrix and feared her in equal measure but her wand terrified her, despite Hermione being the one in charge of it, she felt it could turn somehow think for itself and would turn upon her and torture her again as punishment for taking it from its rightful owner.

That morning, Hermione went to the bathroom to transform. After nearly throwing back up the PolyJuice Potion, she watched her body transform into the Death eater's. She stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door and saw Bellatrix Lestrange gazing moodily back at her.

Hermione looked down at the rest of the strange body she now inhabited and gasped. It was beautiful.

Despite her age, Bellatrix had the body of a 20 year old. Her breasts were firm and still high on her chest. Her stomach was flat and covered with soft, delicate, pale skin. Her thighs and buttocks were toned and strong.

Hermione ran her hands over the Death eater's curves. This was that body that ley beneath those robes. The very body Hermione had dreamt of unwrapping for years.

It was Bellatrix's legs that she marvelled at: they were long and pale, firm and perfectly formed. Incredibly shapely, the envy of any woman.

The body would have been perfect had it not been for the many pale streaks in the flesh that were scars.

Hermione felt her heart fill with emotion. Bellatrix may have done some terrible things in her life but she had clearly suffered for them. Hermione traced a few with sadness.

She had then reluctantly dressed herself in some robes she had fashioned into Bellatrix's style, pulled on some boots and forced herself not to try and tame the Death eater's long rippling hair too much. She had to be convincing.

Walking through Diagon Alley, Hermione found herself equally fearing and admiring Bellatrix for the respect, mainly through terror, she was receiving from people they passed.

When Travers had joined them, Hermione had had to put on the performance of her life and thought she did an admirable job to prevent detection.

The imperious curse Harry had used on Travers and the Goblin confused her slightly as how to answer but that was only a slight hiccup.

She had actually begun to enjoy being her beloved. She was someone of stature and power and every time her hand brushed that body, she felt happy, complete. The only other way to feel this would be for the two of them to be together properly, but that could never happen.

Then, thief's downfall broke the enchantment and separated Hermione from Bellatrix again, though she was wearing robes and boots which were now too big for her.

Then they had entered the vault and nearly died in the attempt to get the cup and escape again.

The last time she had seen her beloved had been during the final battle of Hogwarts.

When she had seen Harry's apparently lifeless body, her eyes had swept the hoard of death eaters entering the courtyard.

She had seen Bellatrix standing near her master, a gloating happiness etched across every part of her face. It made her look almost radiant, more beautiful than ever.

Her treacherous heart was now telling her Voldemort had won. There now was no good or evil. If she gave herself willingly to his cause, there might be a way for her and Bellatrix…

But no. she had almost vomited at the thought of betraying her friends. Her best friend had just sacrificed himself. How could she think this?

Mere minutes later, she had unhappily found herself in combat with Bellatrix. She had fought with a heavy heart, aiming badly in the hope of missing her. She would rather have died at Bellatrix's hand than kill her.

She was somewhat relieved when Mrs Weasley had barged in and taken over the duel. She had stood trembling to the side, watching the two women fight to kill. Her heart ached terribly. One was about to die, but she didn't want either to.

She had never seen Molly look as she did now: rage and fear had burnt bright in her eyes. It created her a whole new persona, commanding and authorative without a trace of maternal affection.

The skilled witch that she was, finally emerging.

All the while Hermione's love smiled and laughed, enjoying every second, Hermione had watched her every move with tears in her eyes.

Then it had happened: a curst hit her in her heart. She fell with the trace of a smile still on her face.

Hermione wanted to scream but knew that would betray her.

Back in her room, Hermione brought herself out of her thoughts. She was still looking at the cutting.

A droplet dripped off the end of her nose. She realised she was crying.

Those thoughts she had of the one she loved were bittersweet memories. That was all she had taken with her form those encounters.

Ever since that battle, Hermione had a hole in her heart, caused by the death of Bellatrix that refused to heal.

She felt empty and always had a feeling of loss and longing. She was incomplete.

She hated feeling this way but at the same time it reminded her of her love for the death eater. This constant pain in her heart was what it was like to love and lose.

She sighed and folded the cutting up and put it away. She still had her memories and the word 'Mudblood' on her arm to remind her of Bellatrix, but none of it would bring her back. She was, after all, dead. She had seen that happen herself. She couldn't understand why she wanted to hold on when even a fool would let go of those feelings.