Author's Note: I've been dealing with a lot RLwise so I took a little bit of break from writing. This idea hit me out of nowhere and I literally sat myself down like a naughty child and forced myself to write it out just to get back into the swing of things. This was kinda fun to write and I was pretty surprised to not see any plots like this in the fandom. I probably could have taken it a little further but I'm happy with it, short and sweet and gets the point I wanted to convey across. Or at least i think so lol.

Please drop a line to let me know what you think ^_^

Disclaimer: I own no parts of the Harry Potter universe, that honor belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely play with the wonderful characters

She was shaking. Every fiber in her being vibrating, jerking as if she were being electrocuted by a live wire, the current pulsing and causing her to seize violent. Her knees were too weak to support her weight, resulting in her all but crumpling into a heap on the cold, wet ground. The skies had opened up, rain falling in a torrential downpour but raindrops were not the only wetness sliding down her cheeks. She was crying, harsh sobs making her chest ache from the weight; tears heavy and salty making her face hot and her nose run.

Her wand had fallen out of her hand.

"Hermione."

She did not recognize her own name. She did not want to recognize it. It sounded foreign to her ears, a piece of her that she doubted she could ever go back to. Not after what she had done. Her only response was another gut wrenching sob, her fingers knifing through her bushy hair, tugging at the tresses until her scalp stung.

"Hermione," the voice again, its tone changing from softly spoken to sharp. It was like a knife cutting through flesh, severing sinew. Like an icy wind that chafed, making blood vessels pop and redden the skin. "Look at me."

She turned her watery honeyed gaze up at the witch that stood before her. Short in stature yet tall in nature. A witch that terrified so many. That had tortured and maimed so many. That had...killed so many. And yet had found it in her black heart to love her despite the sludge her kind, Purebloods, believed slicked her Muggleborn veins. She met that seemingly endless obsidian gaze, took in the sea of sable curls that framed that pale face as if they were the only things keeping her from completely fading away. Because that was what she wanted to do. Disappear.

"You did what you had to do."'

A chillingly mirthless chuckle burst from her chapped lips, rainwater mixing with her tears like acid on her tongue. "Did I?"

"Yes. You did. He might have killed me or the both of us if you hadn't. Even drunk as he was."

Many thought it would be a cold day in hell before they heard Bellatrix nee Black formerly Lestrange and back to Black speak any semblance of logic or reason. But she had known her for a long time and knew the dark witch to be more than just the zealous follower of Lord Voldemort, plagued by insanity. Bellatrix was so much more than that. But in this moment, it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Maybe he should have." Her voice, gravelly and broken sounded as if it were coming from miles away. As if a stranger has spoken it. The words cruel to be sure, yet she did not take them back. She could not. And did not want to.

Bellatrix's tone was dry, almost droll, like she being her could find a semblance of humor in this horrific situation. "If you believed that even a little you wouldn't have done what you did, pet."

What she had done. It was like a bad dream, a nightmare, replaying in her mind's eye on a loop as if she plunged her head into a Pensieve and failed to resurface. Her and Bellatrix walking down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, well after hours. Linked arm in arm, their proximity letting it be known to all who bore witness that they were lovers. As contradictory as anything. A Gyrffindor and a Slytherin. The famed Golden Girl and the Dark Lord's most faithful. One whispering sordid things into the other's ear, the scandalized though aroused giggles the statement evoked echoing off the of the buildings in the seemingly deserted street.

The wizard that had popped into their line of vision out of nowhere. His wand drawn.

"You deserve to die Lestrange!" He had growled, his face emerging out of the shadows the perfect picture of rage.

She and Bellatrix freezing where they stood, eying the assailant. Honey eyes wide and fright filled, pitch eyes shrewd and calculating.

"Haven't you got the memo," Bellatrix had all but purred, no ounce of fear or trepidation evident in her tone even while subtly angling her body in such a way as to get her companion out of the line of fire, "It's Black now."

"I don't give a fuck what you go by. You're a monster. You tortured my wife under your Lord's orders. You laughed as she begged you to stop, begged for her life. As she screamed." He had spit on the ground at their feet to emphasize his disgust and Hermione remembered her heart rate kicking up several notches as she wondered what she could do to diffuse the situation. "You got out on a technicality Lestrange but my wife will never be the same. She'll never smile again, never laugh again. She doesn't even know who I am anymore. You're gonna pay for that. You and your little slut. I remember you girl, you're the one who vouched for her at the trial."

"What are you going to do then?" The dark witch tutted, tossing her wild mane over shoulder wit a roll of her eyes, "Better still, what do you think you're going to do?"

"Those fools at the Ministry didn't see it," the wizard had yelled, his yellowed teeth gnashed in a snarl, "But I do."

She remembered clutching at Bellatrix's arm with one hand, a noise that was half whimper, half gasp escaping her throat. How could the dark witch be so aloof, so sarcastic, so fearless in this moment? Could she not see they were both in real danger? Bellatrix in particular. Equipped with a wand that had been fitted with a trace for the duration of ten years by the Ministry to detect any harmful spells, hexes, or curses, she was practically defenseless and yet she goaded the wizard as if she could possibly fend him off if it came down to it. The same wizard who looked to be out for more than just blood. She could hear it in the way he spoke, the way he stood, the maddened look in his eye, the way his words slurred, the scent of alcohol that seemed to permeate his pores. Why couldn't Bellatrix hear it too?

The next moment seemed to pass in slow motion, like a Muggle movie during a dramatic sequence of events. She felt the familiar weight of her vine wood wand in her free hand, just as the wizard fixed his lips to utter an incantation, his wand - though trembling slightly - aimed at the witch she had sworn she had loved less than an hour before this unfortunate confrontation. The deadly curse like poison dripping down her throat. The bolt of green light that had burst from the tip of her own wand. The look of shock on the wizard's face as he had fallen were he stood. His sightless eyes staring upward as a fork of lightning flashed in the sky, signaling the start of a summer storm. How cold the first few drops of drizzle had felt against her skin that had been heated by adrenaline. Bellatrix turning to face her with a look that was a bone chilling mix of incredulity and approval.

"Shh. Hush now, pet, " Those words, uttered gently, brought her back to the present as efficiently as a hard slap, to the rain splattered alley where she was on her knees on the street, the body of the wizard she had slain less than six feet away. Bellatrix kneeling beside her, her spider like fingers stroking her hair. Attempting to comfort her.

"Don't touch me," she shrieked, high pitched and veering into hysterical territory, jerking herself away from the tender touch, "Don't you dare touch me. Don't you understand, I'm a murderer!"

She had taken someone's life. She was the monster now. She did not deserve to be coddled, to be loved. Not in this moment, not ever. What she had done was unforgivable. Why was Bellatrix pulling her closer?

"So am I."

And with those three whispered words, she felt the press of lips against her cheek, kissing away her tears, trailing down to her jawline, to the column of her neck. She felt the blunt edges of teeth against her pulse point. Felt warmth in the pit of her belly, arousal and disgust at being aroused warring with each other. Other emotions too – guilt, horror, fear, pride, love, and confusion entering the fray of the battle.

In the end, fear won out and that fear quickly morphed into panic like a snowball being rolled doing a hill, gathering girth as it went into it's descent. Instread of pushing Bellatrix away, she found herself pulling her closer, her nails digging into skin hard enough to break it. Her teeth chattering as her body continued to quake.

"Someone's going to find out, they-they're going to capture me," she moaned plaintively, fresh tears pooling in her eyes as she got another gander at the wizard's prone, lifeless form through Bellatrix's curls, "Bella. Oh god, they're going to lock me up in Azkaban. They're going to give me the Dementor's Kiss."

The laving of affection ceased abruptly, the thin skin at her throat stinging, swelling into what would be a purple bruise come morning, as bottomless pits of onyx caught her attention once more. A decidedly wicked glint within their depths. A single dark brow arching in a most dangerous fashion. A pout, ruby red without the aid of cosmetics, tugging into a feral smirk.

"They're going to do what?"

Strange as it was, it managed to put her at ease. Her heart was still beating hard enough to shatter her ribs, her breath coming out in short hyperventilating pants, her grip on Bellatrix still harsh enough to mark. Yet the panic building within her like a maelstrom was slowed mid swirl, completely halted as if frozen by the fervent words that left her lover's lips a moment later.

"I would slaughter anyone who dared to try," the kisses along her dampened neck resumed as did the gentle rake of fingers through her tangled hair, "I will take care of it, pet. I promise."

And Bellatrix nee Black formerly Lestrange and back to Black made no promises she did not intend to keep.