Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine. Just say no! No! No! No!

A/N: Yes. Unconventional pairing. In every sense of the words ^_^. This is a Bellatrix/Hermione. There is strongly implied intimacy in this. The consent is sketchy at best. Taking these things in mind, I am fully open to any input besides that I am damned to Hell for my sinful lifestyle or anything like "HARRYXDRACO FOREVER". Be forewarned. In event of this comment, swift death will follow. In reference to magical creatures, Acromantulae equals Aragog and company, Nundu is an enormous black leopard native to Africa. Its breath is said to be capable of striking down entire villages and it has never been neutralized without the cooperation of fewer than a hundred highly skilled wizards acting in tandem. Information taken from Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them. So, without further ado, here we go!

When They Meet

"Damn these dressing robes."

Hermione's cold, quickly stiffening fingers impatiently grasped the thin cloth of her robe, hiking it out of the way so she could see where she was going. In so far as the robe was no longer obstruction her line of vision, it worked marvelously. However, in the long run it was all a moot point. Heavy clouds crowded the night sky, making the scenery about her even less visible than normal and she was almost frustrated beyond her capabilities of tolerance. The curly brown-haired girl shivered, as much out of cold as a sense of foreboding; usually when she committed major infractions of Hogwarts policy she had Ron and Harry to blame it on. This time, sadly, she was left with no one to blame because they had both flatly refused to have anything to do with finding her wayward charge.

"Crookshanks! Blast it all, where the devil are you?!"

A gust of air escaped her lips in a great sigh, blowing thin wisps of curls upwards momentarily. She really did wish someone was here with her right now. Her full cognizance of the family of Acromantulae residing in the Forbidden Forest, as well as any number of nefarious creatures, possessed instructors, Dark Lords and whatnot that could be stalking the Hogwarts ground was not particularly reassuring to her right now, and sometimes she just detested her obsessive need to know. Times like right now. Like when her cat went missing for days and she just had to find him even though a part of her knew that the vicious cat was perfectly capable of surviving on its own. Well, she would beg her forgiveness of Crookshanks after she had tanned his orange little hide for disappearing like this, but there was no way that Hermione Granger was going to put the littlest toe in the Forbidden Forest tonight. No sir. With her luck, a nundu would have taken up full residence there and she would wind up selling her virgin soul to warlocks long gone to get herself out alive.

Doubtless, her oh-so positive line of thinking, and her obvious and quite understandable frustration had something to do with her not noticing her close proximity to Hagrid's cabin until the dark mass was looming before her. Needless to say, the brown-haired witch nearly jumped out of her skin in shock before realizing what it was. Then she heaved a sigh of patent relief, her heartbeat slowly calming down...until a twig snapped behind her. Every muscle in her body screamed painfully, tensing as she whipped around stiffly. There was nothing save for the forest that loomed dark and forbidding and clear night air behind her.

"Blimey, calm down, Hermione. This is Hogwarts, just about the safest place on earth to be." Hermione chastised herself for her nervousness. It was true; all the wards placed upon the ancient castle made it near impenetrable to harm. As she herself had told others quite often, there was no apparation or disapparation possible on Hogwarts grounds, and the school itself was unplottable. Now, normally, this would be all well and good, and there would be no danger lurking on the Hogwarts grounds, but this was Hermione Granger. Companion of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Part of a trio that never failed to get into life endangering situations. All this information that she had forgotten to enter into the equation was slammed into her mind like Harry's Patronus had charged her when she felt herself grabbed from behind and slammed not so gently into the rough wooden portal of Hagrid's cabin door. Left hand reaching wildly for her wand, searching frantically in the black, which she now cursed, robes, she realized that the nighttime made it impossible for her to locate the pocket, which blended in perfectly with the dark cloth. Eyes staring straight ahead at what had her trapped up against the door, right arm pinned to the door, skin sensitive against the rough grain of the wood, she froze, ceasing all struggle and her mouth opened in horror, hazelish-brown eyes widening in frightened shock.

"Ohhhh no....," She whimpered, not even realizing she was speaking. Her quiet moan didn't carry very far in the stillness of the night, but it was still loud enough for her captor to hear.

"Well if it isn't Mudblood Granger. Fancy meeting you on a night like this." The slightly high voice entered Hermione's ears, causing her to grow even paler. Its cruelty seemed to be oddly complemented by the amusement that the young witch could barely detect in her panic and her breath started coming faster as she gazed into the cold eyes of the woman who currently held her pinned solidly by pressing hip and thigh against Hermione's lower body and holding both of her arms uselessly pinned against the door. The last time she had seen this woman was in the Ministry of Magic...the night Sirius Black had died. Only saw her once, but Hermione would never forget the face. Hair as dark as Sirius' and a good length longer, coldly impersonal eyes set in heavy-lidded eyes, and a mouth that tended to curl in sneering amusement. Add to those physical attributes the fact that she was tall enough that she towered over Hermione and it was a wonder, Hermione thought, that she hadn't gone and wet herself yet.

The young witch found herself thinking, rather irrationally considering the situation, that it was rather a shame that such a good looking family tending to the nefarious evil type. And it was true, Bellatrix Lestrange bore a startling resemblance to Sirius, replete with the same unconscious self-confidence brought on by money, looks and charm. Of course, that obvious kinship hadn't prevented the dark haired woman from killing her cousin. Hermione felt another twinge of grief as she recalled the graceful arch his body had taken through the veil and shook it off as she realized that if Bellatrix felt so little for blood relations she probably would delight in killing a mudblood who had associated with Sirius Black. 'I think I'd have taken the nundu.' she thought. However, she stared defiantly into Bellatrix's dark eyes and spat her next words at the woman, whose body was pressing against her in a most strange and unfamiliar fashion.

"Bellatrix Lestrange! I thought you were still running like a right dog with your tail quivering 'tween your knees after Dumbledore finished with you."

Hermione did her best impression of a sneer, but she was afraid that she only managed to achieve a full-lipped pout. Maybe that was what the pure blood was for; to improve the quality of sneer. Draco was certainly adept at it, although if the savage grin that Bellatrix was shooting at her now was to be taken for her rendition of a sneer, Hermione had to say in all honesty that it more closely resembled a seductive smirk. Her shoulders were really aching in their sockets right now; the female Death Eater was much taller than she would ever be and didn't seem to take notice of the fact that her idea of a comfortable position was a few inches higher than Hermione's.

Bellatrix didn't answer immediately, in fact, she didn't answer for the next few minutes. Instead, she removed one hand pinning Hermione's arms and held her down now with only her left. Hermione wasn't stupid; she seized the opportunity by struggling wildly, only to find out that Bellatrix Lestrange was a great deal stronger than she looked, and now she had her wand in her right hand.

Hermione gave Bellatrix the look she often gave Ron and Harry. Her brown eyes resolute, she jutted her chin forth in a show of admirable courage.

"If you're going to kill me, bloody well do it now and get it over with!"

There. She'd go out unbowed now, Hermione thought with satisfaction, and an aching sadness that she didn't get to say good bye to Crookshanks, Ron, and Harry, as well as everybody else at Hogwarts, even Neville. Mentally, she said her farewells now, since it was the closest she'd ever get.

Bellatrix laughed, long and unrestrained. It didn't sound as raucous as it had in the Ministry...Hermione had thought her quite psychotic back then. She still did, although she would concede that the laugh had gotten infinitely more pleasant. Her wand hand began to move, raising slowly and steadily until the thin rod was inches away from the center of Hermione's forehead, about where Harry had his lightning bolt scar. 'Guess he won't be the only one with a mark. Except he'll be alive then, won't he?', Hermione thought frustratedly, and what aggravated her most was that her last thought would be how strangely pleasant the scent that was wafting in her nose was, faintly spicy and warm.

"I do believe that comment about Dumbledore was meant to insult me. I've always found it interesting that you Gryffindors...it is Gryffindor isn't it? 'Course it is. That you Gryffindors consider choosing survival over asserting the fact that you are indeed more weak and idiotic and overall, inferior to your opponents, insulting. Oh well, I guess that's the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I make no qualms about it, little witch, Dumbledore is far more powerful than I am, with much more experience and ability than I have ever allowed myself to fool myself into thinking. I should be adequate enough to be able to handle you quite nicely though, little witch, and you needn't go around trying to look like jailbait with those lips of yours." The wand had not moved in all the time of Bellatrix's talking, and now the taller woman slowly drew closer and closer to Hermione, who was still pretending to be a stoic, until she was as close as the wand and Hermione knew for an indelible certainty whose exotic scent that was. Smirking lips opened in what seemed like slow motion as Bellatrix moved to speak those two words that would end Hermione's, now that she thought about it, pathetically insubstantial life. Brown eyes that threatened to tear over at any moment closed and Hermione inhaled a shaky breath in preparation, her last breath on Earth. God, she hated dying.

"Alohomora."

The word cut like a knife in the thick tension. Hermione, eyes tightly shut, missed Bellatrix moving the wand six inches to the right to point at the door. The spell, not the one she had expected to hear, caught her by surprise and she had barely registered it before the door swung backwards and she was falling from the lack of support. Why wasn't she dead yet again? She could have sworn she should be dead now.

The thud and sharp pain that knocked the breath out of her told her without a doubt that she was indeed alive. As a second weight slammed into her from above, knocking any remaining air she had in her lungs out in a gigantic wheeze, she rather wished she was dead. Dead was good compared to bearing the weight of a tall, proven to be not so nice, murderous witch on compressed lungs. Ahh..., she found herself already musing, it had been beautiful when she could breathe.

The weight rolled off her and she sucked in a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling several times before saying the first comment that came to her mind.

"Bloody 'ell, you're heavy, woman!" Oh great, she winced. If Bellatrix hadn't killed her before, she would surely do it now. But the only response was a quiet chuckle. Maybe if she ran away now..but it was pitch black in the cabin; Hagrid was gone away on some top-secret business for Dumbledore. Silently, she rummaged through her robes again, which were now pinned so that they were extremely tight around her body. Shaking fingers closed around a solid object and with her wand in hand, Hermione jerked up, whipped her hand out, and with a flourish, lit the room.

"Lumos!"

The cabin was illuminated in a blueish cast and Hermione prepared to jerk the rest of the way up, knock Bellatrix over, and run away to inform the nearest person that there was a Death Eater on Hogwarts grounds. Besides the Young Death Eaters of course. As Hermione began to move, she raised her head to plan the best path out of the cabin...and froze in shock. This was the third time this night she had been struck dumb with surprise, and the first that she had seen more of Bellatrix than her face. This was also the second time that night that she realized that when she was shocked she had a nasty habit of saying the first thing that came to her mind.

"Christ! You're quite naked aren't you?!"