Bellatrix Black had never feared death. In all her years of living, death had been a close companion, a welcome shadow, an inevitability she understood better than anyone. Before she lost her memory, she had sent countless people to the grave, her pale and sallow face the last thing they saw on this earth. She'd always imagined dying in the throes of battle, taking hundreds with her on her way down. She'd imagined dying alone, unloved and feared, with no one to grieve her demise. It was what she deserved, after all.
She never considered that one day she would die in the arms of someone who loved her.
This girl, this obnoxious, gentle, brave, compassionate love of hers sobbed and begged for her to stay. Bellatrix would, if she could. She would kill and die for this girl but most importantly she would defy death and live for her if it was possible. Bellatrix would give anything in that moment to do this for her, after everything that had been done for her.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you leave this world. Bellatrix had lived two lives, one began the day she was born and the second began the day she met Hermione Granger. Bellatrix's years with her had been the only ones that mattered, here, at the end. It had been her first life, the life wrought with darkness and blood and utterly devoid of love that cost her the second life. All it took was one mistake, one stupid, reckless decision that led to her final demise.
Bellatrix's mouth filled with the metallic taste of regret-or was that blood?-as she cursed herself for not being smarter with her second chance. She would pray for a third chance if she believed in a higher power, or if she believed she deserved one at all. After all, she hadn't deserved the second chance to begin with.
She was grateful for it all the same. Dying like this, with the love of her life clutching at her as if she could physically tether her to this world, was more than she deserved. She opened her mouth to tell her so, but all that came out was a pathetic sputtering noise as she choked on her blood.
Hermione cleared her airway with a spell but more blood quickly took its place. It was alright. Hermione must know what she meant to her after everything they've been through. Bellatrix lifted a hand to trace over her cheekbones and down the slope of her nose, to dance across her lips. If there was an afterlife, she doubted it'd be half as beautiful as the face in front of her.
Do you remember the day we met? Bellatrix wanted to ask, Not in the Department of Mysteries. You know the day I mean, don't you? I will never forget the way you looked at me. Everyone in the room either hated me or pitied me. You looked at me with such curiosity. You were trying to figure me out from that first moment. Did you ever succeed?
There was so much she wanted to say to her, so much she would never get the chance to convey. She wanted to say, you saved me in more ways than you can imagine. She wanted to tell her there is not a memory spell in the world that could take those moments with you away from me. Instead, she only tugged a hand through thick, tangled hair.
It was becoming impossible to keep her eyes open. All she wanted was to die looking at what she loved most but death was cruel and her eyes slipped shut against her will. Instead, she contended herself with images of the life she lived. The life that began with a deafening crack.
The first clear memory Bellatrix possessed snapped into focus as she apparated onto a grassy field overlooking a great castle. Her mind searched for something that came before this moment but she came up blank. It was as if she'd apparated into existence.
Apparating. Why do I know what that is?
She felt like she was going to be sick. There were disjointed concepts floating through her mind but she struggled to understand them. If she picked a subject and focused, she knew what it was but didn't know how she knew. For instance she knew the thin piece of wood in her sleeve was a wand but she had no memory of obtaining it and wasn't entirely sure how to use it.
She knew she only had one option. There must be a reason she was here, facing this oddly familiar castle.
Hissing out a harsh breath between her teeth, Bellatrix Lestrange wrapped her arms around herself and began taking shaky, uncertain steps towards the forward.
When Bellatrix was close enough to see the huge front door it creaked open and an older witch stepped out. She sped up her pace, her steps becoming frantic at the sight. However, when she got close enough to see the other witch's face, the witch drew her wand.
"Stop right there! Another step and I'll knock you on your arse before you can touch your wand!" The woman's shrill voice had an air of authority that made Bellatrix pause.
When she didn't move any further the witch continued, "What is the meaning of this?"
Bellatrix put her hands in the air and called back, "I-I need help! Will you help me?"
The witch seemed to be at a loss. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
When met only with silence Bellatrix stepped forward again, "What is this-"
"Not another step!" The woman cut her off.
Bellatrix paid her no mind, continuing to come closer, "Please, just tell me-"
This time she was cut off with a spell instead of words. She feel backwards, rigid, and the last thing she saw was the moon cutting through the utter blackness of the night sky.
Hermione naturally woke up at six a.m. no matter what each day had in store for her. There was a beauty and a quietness to waking up before the rest of the world. Which is why she knew something was amiss when she woke up to someone shaking her shoulder before she had a chance to wake up on her own. She squinted up at Ginny, leaning over her with her red hair tickling Hermione's face.
Hermione sat straight up, causing Ginny to jerk out of her way to avoid a collision.
"What is it? Whats happening?" Hermione asked, disoriented and frantic.
"Everyone's waiting in the halls," Ginny whispered, "I'll let Harry explain,"
"Who's everyone?" Hermione asked, throwing off her covers to dress hurriedly.
Ginny didn't answer, just waited for her to get ready before pulling her out of the dormitories and into the hall. By "everyone" Ginny had meant Harry and Ron, who were slumped against the wall opposite them. Ron looked exhausted but Harry had that light in his eyes he tended to get right before they got in some kind of trouble.
"I heard a rumor," Harry began, "Or rather, I heard from Dean who heard from Seamus who saw McGonagall and Professor Snape carrying Bellatrix Lestrange into the infirmary,"
"What?" Hermione squeaked, "That can't be right. Why would…"
"It's what we're all wondering," Ron said, "so we're going to find out for ourselves,"
Hermione couldn't argue with that logic. She was just as curious to see what the infamous witch was doing at their school. They fell into a tense silence until they neared the infirmary.
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm before they could enter, "Harry," she ventured, "The last time you saw her…"
"She killed Sirius, I know," Harry responded tightly.
"What are you going to do if she's really in there?"
The two Weasley's stopped with them to see what he'd say.
Harry's expression darkened, "Dunno," He pushed passed them and into the infirmary. Hermione looked and the two redheads exchanged similar looks of worry before following their friend inside.
Hermione got two steps in before she ran right into Harry's back. Which of course cause Ginny to bump into her and Ron to stumble into his sister. When Hermione stepped around him, she saw what had stopped him dead in his tracks.
The Death Eater was indeed lying unconscious in one of the beds. McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore were gathered by her bedside and appeared to be deep in conversation.
"Blimey, it's really her," Ron said loudly, and immediately the three adults looked up.
"Well I can't say I'm surprised to see you," McGonagall commented dryly.
Hermione was fixated on the dark witch, barely registering her professor's words. It was surreal to see the woman sleeping, when they had only ever seen her wild and taunting, viscous and crazed. Hermione's eyes drifted down the woman's form, her black dress down to her feet, still clad in heeled boots and took note that she was restrained, cuffed to the bed by her hands and feet.
"What makes you think you have any right to be here?" Snape demanded.
Harry tore his eyes away from the witch at the same time Hermione did and snapped, "She killed my god father! I have every right-"
"To be here," Dumbledore interjected softly, "Yes of course you do Harry,"
"I don't know, Harry," Ginny murmured, visibly uncomfortable with the situation, "Maybe we should just go get ready for class. She's not even conscious,"
"You all can go," Harry said tersely, "I'm not going anywhere,"
A flash of hurt crossed her face before she turned hurriedly and left.
"Miss Weasley had a point," McGonagall said, "If you don't have any personal business here, it's best if you go on to class and tell no one what you saw here,"
None of the three remaining students budged and McGonagall gave a withering sigh before dropping the issue. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room while the students and professors stared at each other, all at a loss for what to do.
Harry took a breath to speak but was cut off when Bellatrix woke with a start. Gasping wildly, she sat up and began jerking her arms and legs against the restraints to no avail.
"Miss Lestrange," McGonagall's commanding voice cut through the witch's panic, "You'd do well to calm down,"
Bellatrix stilled, her dark eyes darting frantically between the faces in the room. Dumbledore was a blank, analytical slate, Snape was eyeing her wearily, Harry's face was hard with anger and McGonagall stern as ever. When the witch's eyes met hers for the briefest of moments, Hermione was floored by the difference between now and the last time she'd looked into the black orbs. In the ministry, they'd been sinister and so full of malice it had been difficult to hold the contact; now they sucked her in, pulled at something inside her so much so that she felt almost disappointed when they left her.
"Where am I?" Bellatrix asked shrilly, "Who are you people?"
Snape's thick brows pulled together in a scowl, "You mean to suggest you don't know? What are you playing at, Lestrange?"
Bellatrix seemed only to sink deeper into her fog of fear and outrage.
"It's no game, you bloody fools," she hissed. Abruptly her face smoothed, her mood shifting. Her lower lip pushed out into a pout Hermione had seen once before but now the expression was vulnerable rather than belittling. "I don't know- I can't seem to…"
"What do you know?" Dumbledore interjected softly.
Hermione felt Harry bristle next to her, dissatisfied with the sympathy being shown to the murderer.
Bellatrix's eyes fluttered shut as she searched for an answer. She curled in on herself as much as she could with the restraints, her head hanging and her dark curls blocking her face. "Nothing…I don't even know what it is you're calling me. Lestrange?" she muttered.
Hermione glanced at Harry in shock. He had only been growing in anger since they entered the room and finally he snapped.
"What a load of shit!" He shouted, stepping quickly forward until he stood opposite his professors at her bedside, "You lot can't be buying this! She's a murderer, a villainous liar!"
Bellatrix straightened and stared at the boy uncertainly, looking like a deer in the headlights. Hermione joined her friend next to the bed, her stomach tightening nervously at her proximity to the Death Eater. She tried to relax when she felt Ron step closer behind her. She put a hand on Harry's shoulder, both to comfort him and to steady herself. The three professors were only looking at Harry in poorly disguised pity.
"Well, there is only one way to know for sure…" Dumbledore looked at Snape, "Severus, if you would…?"
Hermione realized what was happening as Snape pulled his wand. He pointed it at the dark witch's face and said, "Legilimens,"
Bellatrix threw her head back and her whole body seized up. She didn't cry out but it was apparent she was experiencing a tremendous discomfort. Hermione wondered what it would feel like to be invaded so intimately, especially if she truly had no understanding of what was being done to her.
When Snape broke the spell the dark witch slumped back against the mattress, whimpering. Snape, for his part looked shocked, his wand arm hanging limp at his side as he stared at Bellatrix in bewilderment.
"Well?" Dumbledore asked.
Snape's eyes remained on the witches still form as he spoke, "The Bellatrix Lestrange the world knows is an experienced Occlumens. I was met with no resistance. This is not the Bellatrix the world knows."
Hermione had never endured such an infuriatingly unproductive day in class. Her sixth year was just beginning and now was not the time to get distracted. She hardly participated and she could barely pay attention when her mind was full of the events of that morning. How would it affect their cause? Surely Voldemort would come looking for his "best lieutenant".
It was clear to her that Harry wasn't fairing much better. He was less infuriatingly perfect in potions, a victory Hermione couldn't even appreciate considering the circumstances that caused it. Ron was doing his best to be supportive; his way of showing support was staring sympathetically at his best friend with that trademark puppy dog look in his eyes. As far as she knew, Harry and Ginny still hadn't spoken since that morning.
She felt both relieved and disappointed when her last class of the day ended. She'd have time to think the situation over fully now, but she was left feeling dissatisfied with her day's work.
"A word, Granger?" Slughorn stopped her before she could follow Harry and Ron out of the room.
"Yes, Professor?" She frowned at her friend's backs as they disappeared out the door.
"Dumbledore wanted to see you about the…erm, Black situation,"
It took her a moment to remember that by Black, he meant Lestrange. Slughorn must have been Bellatrix's professor, back when her surname was Black. She nodded and left the room hurriedly, interested to hear what the Headmaster had to say.
After the relatively short walk to his office, she found Dumbledore seated at his desk, Fawkes squawking at her when she entered. He looked up and smiled kindly at her over his half-moon glasses. "Miss Granger, do have a seat,"
"You wanted to see me about Bellatrix, sir?" she asked, taking a seat opposite him.
"Yes, Miss Lestrange's arrival has come as quite a shock for all of us. Professor Snape, McGonagall and I have been deliberating all day on how we should proceed. On the one hand, Bellatrix was an incredibly gifted and dangerous Death Eater, and I am doubtful Voldemort will take her loss lightly. He will search for her, and just having her here is dangerous," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed thoughtfully, "Now, on the other hand, we believe Bellatrix to be under the influence of a very powerful memory charm. She remembers only the basics; that she is a witch capable of magic, that she lives in a world surrounded by others who can perform magic. She doesn't remember her biased upbringing, she is devoid of any pureblood brainwashing, and she has no idea who the Dark Lord is. I believe we can use this to our advantage,"
Hermione mirrored the headmaster, leaning back in her chair as well. Her mind raced as she tried to take in the information. "Are you saying you believe we could get Bellatrix to help us?"
"I do. And I'll need your help convincing her to do so," Dumbledore responded gravely.
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "Me? What would you need me to do?"
"Rebuild her mind into something better than it was before. Teach her, train her, gain her trust, and get her to believe in our cause. I believe you are the only one suitable to the task at hand. I wouldn't ask if I believed there to be another option." He added, appearing at least mildly apologetic.
Stunned, she took in the Headmaster's words. It was a genius plan, but incredibly dangerous. If it worked, the benefits would be unimaginable, but if it failed…
"You believe her worth the risk? You believe her capable of becoming something…good?"
"I believe I second chances,"
"Does she really deserve one? With all due respect, Headmaster, she's a murder. She's insane."
"Maybe she doesn't, but this is an opportunity take one of Voldemort's greatest strengths and turn it into one of ours. As for Miss Lestrange's mental state, mental illness doesn't make one evil. This world makes one evil. Her upbringing corrupted her, the Dark Lord turned her into a monster. The woman never stood a chance. Now she does. Will you help me, Hermione?"
Hermione shifted her stack of books to balance them on a hip and she raised a fist to gently rap on Bellatrix's door. She could hardly hear her own knocks over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. The room was situated at the top of one of Hogwarts's towers in a rarely visited corner of the castle.
Bellatrix has gone from the most feared Death Eater in the world to a princess locked in an ivory tower, Hermione thought bemusedly, trying to steady her nerves.
"Come in," A voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Hermione opened the door, enchanted to open for anyone but its sole inhabitant. Despite the fact that the woman was essentially living in a cell, she was set up nicely. The room was all stone, dark wood and silk green furnishings. To top it off a fireplace roared with emerald fire opposite a massive king sized bed. Hermione had yet to see the inside of the Slytherin common room but she imagined the décor was similar.
Bellatrix was seated in front of her vanity mirror, dressed in a silk black robe and pulling a brush through her unruly hair. Hermione counted at least ten candles upon entering and seeing the former Death Eater bathed in candlelight, doing something as mundane as running a brush through her hair had her heart hammering in her chest again. What was the proper way to act in a situation like this?
"Um," Hermione stuttered, "Er, Dumbledore wanted me to work with you on…regaining some of your magical capabilities."
Bellatrix glanced at her in the mirror but continued to yank the brush through her hair. She was tightly wound, visibly on edge. Hermione couldn't blame her, after everything she'd been through. The woman was infamously impossible to predict so Hermione knew she ought to choose her words carefully.
"Yes, I've been informed. I hear you're the brightest witch of your age, hm?" Bellatrix arched an eyebrow.
Hermione couldn't tell if the witch was mocking her. She was finding it challenging to get an idea of Bellatrix's personality without her memories.
"Well, yes," Hermione replied. She walked to Bellatrix's dresser and set the books she brought down with a thump .She almost missed the dark haired woman's soft grunt of pain, and she turned around in time to see her snap the wooden brush on a particularly difficult knot.
"Oh here," Hermione was by her side before she could think better of it. She helped the dark witch work the brush out of her hair, not missing the way she tensed up at Hermione's proximity. "It helps if you start with your ends and work up to your roots,"
"Don't baby me," Bellatrix snapped, "I'm perfectly capable of-,"
"Breaking a brush? Further damaging your hair?" Hermione retorted. She drew her wand and cast reparo to fix the brush.
Bellatrix was momentarily distracted at the display of magic but quickly returned to her senses, "Further damaging-you little- my hair is perfectly fine!" She stood up suddenly, knocking her chair back.
Hermione jumped away, more shocked than she really should have been. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"I don't care how you meant it," Bellatrix snarled, grabbing Hermione roughly by the collar of her shirt and slamming her against the stone wall, "Insult me again," She breathed out, her breath washing over Hermione's face. Spearmint, Hermione registered uselessly. This close, she could see every eyelash surrounding the endless pools of the inky darkness that made up her irises.
Typically in times of conflict Hermione's brain naturally flew into problem solving mode but now she was currently unable to come up with any useful ideas.
"Well?" The crazed witch demanded, that spearmint-tinged breath puffing out in short, rapid succession, "Give me a reason I shouldn't break your nose, Granger,"
Bellatrix's hands twisted her shirt harder, the collar making it hard for Hermione to breath. The small motion caused her to notice that Bellatrix's knuckles were bright red with painful, recent looking scabs. "Erm," Hermione ventured, "because your hand is already injured? You'll hurt yourself as much as you'll hurt me,"
She knew, logically, that a broken nose would hurt a lot more than some cuts on a hand but she hoped the reason was strong enough to appeal to the woman pinning her to the wall. She also knew that she could easily draw her wand and knock Bellatrix on her ass, however, Dumbledore did stress the importance of building a relationship on the basis of trust, so first she would attempt to talk her down.
Bellatrix only continued to glower at her so she tried again.
"I can help you with that you know," Hermione glanced at the witch's hand again. There was a bit of blood seeping out of the scabs from how tightly her hands were curled around Hermione's shirt. "That must hurt…I can heal you, Bellatrix,"
The use of her name seemed to finally snap Bellatrix out of her mood. She uncurled her fingers from Hermione's shirt and stepped away unsteadily. Hermione sucked in a breath, both from relief and from finally being able to breathe unobstructed.
The raven haired woman stood in the center of the room now, staring down at her bleeding hand. Hermione wanted to leave, she really did, but Dumbledore gave her one task and if this was going to help them in the long run, she was nothing but a perfectionist. This was just another challenge for her to conquer.
She approached the other woman tentatively, the way you approach a deer in the woods, and gently took her injured hand. Bellatrix let her, moving her eyes back to Hermione's face.
Hermione drew her wand once again and pointed it at Bellatrix's hand. Before she cast the spell, she glanced up and met her eyes, "First it's going to feel very warm and then cold, but then you'll feel better, alright?"
The woman only studied her silently, until Hermione looked back at her hand.
"Episkey," She whispered, and the two of them watched as the skin turned from the ugly red and yellow, to pink and back to flawless ivory. After it was done, Bellatrix yanked her hand out of Hermione's and turned away, stalking over to the window.
Hermione hadn't accomplished at all what she came for, but she felt that teaching Bellatrix anything at all was going to be a long and complicated process. She'd made enough progress for one night.
She turned and made her way to the door. Pausing at the dresser, she glanced back at the other witch standing motionless at the window.
"I'll leave these here for you, in case you want to read up on your own. I'll be back in a couple days to go over it with you,"
Bellatrix showed no sign that she heard what she'd said, so Hermione just sighed and left her to brood.
That is no princess locked in an ivory tower, she found herself thinking on her way back to the common room.
That is a dragon with clipped wings.
Note: Title is a Hozier song...just spelled different