A/N:
Written for "The Awkward Moment" Competition, run by Nightmare Prince. Word count minus A/N: 1508
Characters: Bellatrix Black, Hermione Granger
Scenario: The Awkward Moment when you went streaking nude during the Quidditch Final...
Optional Prompts:
Potion: Veritaserum
Weather: Hot
Phrase: "Confess your sins"
Song: Royal by Lorde
Word: Silk
(I hate song prompts. This one killed me OTL)
Harry Potter ran into their private booth at the Quidditch World Cup and slammed the door shut behind him. Hermione looked up in alarm, pausing in the middle of fanning herself against the hot weather. She hadn't seen Harry look so distressed since George had brought props to Harry's wedding speech. Pink, lacy props.
Harry leaned back against the door, panting. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry held up his hand, stalling her.
"Hermione," he said, slightly out of breath.
Warning bells went off in Hermione's head. She knew that tone.
"Harry James Potter," she said. "What have you-"
Harry cut her off. "I know, Hermione, and I'm really, really sorry, but it won't be for long. Maybe an hour. Just until we can get the booth sorted at St Mungo's and make sure there's no press lurking. You know how it is."
"No I don't know how it is, because I have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry ran his hand through his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. Now that Hermione was paying attention, she saw that his Auror robes were torn and caked in mud.
"We just have to keep her here for a little while." His voice had turned pleading. The warning bells in Hermione's head were clanging like church bells. "There's no where else. There's noone else. And I know this is an awful thing to ask you of all people, but I promise I'll-"
The door burst open, sending Harry flying. Ron charged in, a black-clothed figure struggling in his hands.
"How dare you!" the woman screeched, but there was something off about her voice. She sounded dazed and a little lost, even in her fury.
The woman's black curls fell from her face and Hermione gasped.
"Bellatrix Lestrange?!" she hissed, taking a step back. She looked up at Harry and Ron, who looked equal parts guilty and desperate. "Are you mad?"
This was obviously the mission they had been called off to just as they'd sat down in their private booth for the Quidditch World Cup. Thank Merlin they had decided it would only be the three of them in Harry's booth today, for old time's sake. A dream which had been rudely shattered when Ron and Harry had been called away, leaving Hermione alone.
"We had a bit of a miscalculation," Ron explained, fighting to hold Bellatrix still. She leaned back and hissed at him. "Oh, shut up," he said, giving her a shake. "Look, Harry, can you lock the door already so I can let her go?"
Harry set a number of complex wards on the door and gave Ron a nod. Ron let go of Bellatrix with a flourish. She stumbled but regained her balance and paused, half stooped, looking up at the room through the mess of hair over her eyes.
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Well, we tracked her down finally. Then we tried to give her Veritaserum. Can you imagine trying to give Bellatrix Lestrange Veritaserum, Hermione?"
"Even when she's sedated she's a nightmare," Ron said, eying her warily. "She kept cackling and shouting 'confess your sins' while we tried to give her the potion. It was like trying to feed a bloody toddler."
"So we-" Harry paused.
"What did you do?" Hermione asked, her voice icy.
"Weobliviatedher."
"You what?!"
Harry held up his hands in placation while Ron took a step back from his irate wife.
"We only wanted to remove the memory of us entering her hide-out," Harry explained quickly. "Just enough to disorient her so we could slip her the potion and find the remaining Death Eaters."
Hermione eyed Bellatrix. She was still huddled over herself, looking all around the room for an exit.
"Why isn't she attacking me?" Hermione asked. "How much of her memory did you wipe?"
"All of it," Ron said cheerfully. "She hasn't a clue who she is. Doesn't even know about magic. She's gone totally barmy, like Lockhart."
The Ministry was unlikely to overlook such a breach of conduct, even for Harry. Only Healers were allowed to obliviate ministry prisoners, and Harry and Ron had potentially lost their only lead on the locations of the last remaining Death Eaters by disobeying that rule.
Hermione thought of Gilderoy Lockhart and the gentle, bumbling idiot he had become. Bellatrix was nothing like Lockhart. She might not know she was a witch, but she was just as dangerous as ever. Hermione was willing to bet she was paying attention to every word and figuring out exactly where she stood in this power game.
Well, if she was stuck with Bellatrix for the next hour or more, she certainly wasn't going to let her figure out she was at the top.
Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at Bellatrix. "Incarcerous."
Bellatrix's hands snapped behind her back, held fast together with ropes. For a second, she was shocked, but only a second. Then she laughed, her eyes wide and crazed.
"The ickle girly has claws," she said, her voice regaining its usual high-pitched whisper. She snapped her head up to stare at Hermione.
"And you tend to scratch," Hermione said calmly. "So you'll be tied up until you can play nice."
Harry and Ron stared at her, but mercifully seemed to realise that, rather than taking the situation lightly, Hermione was ensuring that Bellatrix didn't realise how afraid of her they all were.
"Right," Harry said after a pause. "We'll be back soon then, Hermione."
Ron looked like he was having second thoughts about leaving his wife alone with Bellatrix, but Hermione's calm gaze reminded him that it was better for Bellatrix to not realise the threat she posed.
With a last look behind them, they left.
Hermione sat down, still watching Bellatrix. Behind her, the crowd roared. The match was starting.
Bellatrix began pacing, muttering under her breath. Hermione heard the word 'witch' several times. Just as suddenly as she had started, she stopped.
"Little witch, little witch," she whispered, walking over to Hermione.
Hermione noticed a bead of sweat drip down Bellatrix's face. It really was hot in here, and Bellatrix's layers of clothing would be stifling. Hermione held up her wand.
Bellatrix paused dramatically, mocking Hermione. But her eyes... Hermione frowned. Bellatrix's eyes didn't hold the same revulsion they normally held. Instead, there was an intensity in them that Hermione had only before seen directed at Voldemort.
"Think you could show me how to do that?" Bellatrix asked, looking at Hermione's wand. She licked her lips. "Just a taste."
Hermione pretended to consider. "Might be a bit hard for you," she said, smiling apologetically.
"Pity," Bellatrix breathed, still staring at the wand. "Looks powerful."
"It is," Hermione replied without thinking, smirking as she said it.
Bellatrix's eyes slid away from the wand and up to Hermione's. "And you like that power, don't you, little witch?"
Hermione didn't feel that Bellatrix was looking at her like she was a little witch at all. Bellatrix was looking at her like maybe Hermione's plan to flip the power dynamic had worked a little too well.
"You're so tense, little witch," Bellatrix crooned, tilting her head to the side. "So caught up trying to fit the mould. Just let it go." She turned to the stadium. Her eyes were fever bright, barely focused. "They don't need you. They won't miss you. High up in their little palaces. We'll never be royals, you and I. But that's not what we crave, is it, girl? We crave a different kind of buzz." Her voice trailed into a hiss with the last word.
"Are you seriously comparing yourself to me?" Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You really have lost-"
"Why not just give it a try?" Bellatrix turned back to Hermione. There was no mistaking the seduction in her eyes this time.
Before Hermione could think of which hex to cast first, there was a burst of accidental magic, and all of Bellatrix's black silk clothing disappeared.
Hermione squeaked and jumped back. Bellatrix looked down in surprise. She brought her hands in front of her, the ropes magicked away with the clothing. The wind hit her and she smiled.
Hermione raised her wand, but Bellatrix just laughed and leaped over the side of the private booth, into the crowd below. Hermione ran to the edge and leaned over. She stared, open-mouthed, as a very naked Bellatrix sprinted through the crowd, cackling madly. Bursts of accidental magic left a trail of destruction behind her, as chairs exploded and clothes disappeared.
The door to the booth opened.
"Hermione, where's-"
Hermione pointed. Ron and Harry rushed to the edge, looked down, and stopped, shocked.
"Hermione," Harry said, his voice higher than usual. "This is-"
"Not quite as discrete as we'd planned," Ron finished.
"She tried to seduce me," Hermione said, dazed. "She tried to seduce a Muggle-born." There was a long pause. "Please tell me you're going to get her memory back, because that is going to make her absolutely cringe."