Chapter Two: Clumsy

Hermione folded her hands across her lap. A grin tugged the corners of her mouth as she watched Ron and Harry stuff themselves with chocolate frogs. Harry was underweight as usual, and Ron looked downtrodden at the looming prospect of school. Hermione couldn't help but feel extremely relieved, she hated the summers, and reveled in the fact that she wouldn't have to return home for nine months. Harry was perhaps the only one who understood that, she'd noticed he thought of Hogwarts as his primary home also.

"So Hermione," Ron said, his face smeared with chocolate, "I trust your summer was exciting? Books? Studying? Extra essays?" She flashed him a smile and slapped him lightly on the knee.

"You have no idea." She bit her lower lip, unsure of where to go from there. The first of the year was always the hardest for her, she had a hard time adjusting to the kindness of others, and found it hard to speak with anyone, even her two best friends.

There was a knock on the train compartment. Ron slid the door open, coming face to face with Malfoy. "What do you want, you prat?" Ron hissed, his fist balling up at his side. Hermione turned to fix Draco with a glare, but stopped short. He looked absolutely dreadful. He'd lost a significant amount of weight, his face was sunken in, and black circles shadowed his eyes.

"Sorry, Weasel," Draco drawled, "wrong compartment." Then he walked away, avoiding eye contact with all three of them.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, the same thought running through their heads. What had happened to him? Bully and school nemesis he may be, but he didn't look well, he didn't look healthy.

Ron looked smug. "Scared him off good, didn't I?" Hermione rolled her eyes. He could be such an idiot.

Hours later, as the countryside rushing past the large window was bathed in an eerie darkness, Hermione Granger fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Harry was awake and noticed her weak appearance for the first time. Her face was gaunt, her form smaller than he remembered it. There was something not quite right about her however, her skin had absolutely no flaws, none, not even the tiniest of blemishes.

A sudden thought popped into his head.

As the train came to its final stop, the trio began gathering their things from the overhead compartments and changing into their robes. After Ron had left to change, Harry seized the opportunity to voice his concern in privacy.

"Hermione," he said seriously to the disheveled looking girl, and she jumped at the sound of her name.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Why have you cast a glamour charm upon yourself?" He queried, figuring it was best to just to get to the point.

Hermione panicked. At first she considered denying it, but Harry would know she was being dishonest. She had to come up with something, fast. As worried as she was, her face never betrayed her inner turmoil.

"I'm rather embarrassed," she laughed nervously, and looked away from him, "I used it to make myself look…better than the other girls. I know it's stupid, but…I'm getting older…and well…"

Harry nodded his head, "Oh, alright."

Hermione winced. He didn't believe her, she could tell, but her superficial reason was better revealed than her primary motivation to hide her imperfections, because she had so, so many.

"Hermione?" Harry touched her arm, and she jumped back as if she'd been burned. She stumbled over her trunk.

"Are you alright?" He asked, trying to help her get to her feet. She wouldn't let him touch her.

"Fine, Oh Harry, I do apologize, how clumsy of me." She scurried about, grabbing her trunk and Crookshanks, and ran out of the train compartment, leaving a very confused friend behind her.

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Bellatrix stared in to the deep red slits that were her Lords eyes. "Bella, you've done well, purifying this world more each and every day you complete a mission for me. I do not do this often. But I will reward you today with your greatest desire. What is it, child? Let me into your mind…"

Bellatrix felt him in her mind, sifting through recent memories, and trying to find the core of her desire, what she was yearning for so urgently. I want you to hurt me, I want you to tear me apart, I want you to do both….I want to scream….

He pulled out of her mind, an amused smile on his face. "Interesting. Very interesting." He smiled at the rest of the Death Eater congregation. "Leave us. I will call upon you all at the next meeting."

Rodolphus paused for a moment. He knew his wife had pretty much lost her marbles, but as true as that was, he was determined to protect her. He had never liked the unhealthy obsession she'd had for the Dark Lord, it went a little far for a husbands liking. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he walked away, leaving Bellatrix nothing but a concerned second glance.

Bellatrix, however, was deep in her sickness, and was shivering in anticipation at what her Lord would give her.

"Bella," he whispered, and beckoned her to him with a long, bony finger.

She approached him, hands shaking, body on fire. He smiled a snake-like smile, and gently caressed her cheek with his hand. Though she wished he was a bit rough, any touch from him was like heaven.

"Rough?" He said playfully, instantly reading her thoughts. He drew his hand back, and slapped her so hard she fell to the floor. She moaned in pleasure.

"Crucio" He said flippantly, and she writhed on the floor, screaming, screaming for him, just like she wanted to.

He ended the curse and studied her. She was glowing. "More, please. Morrre…" She begged. He stood above her heaving form, and delivered a sharp kick to the stomach.

She felt the bruise forming, felt the blood rush. She loved it. Voldemort reached down, and wrapped his hand around the womans throat. He lifted her off the ground, he knew through all the choking and sputtering she made it was pleasing her. He had no idea how much, however.

Voldemort released her throat, and let her drop unceremoniously to the floor. "And now," he said, "that I've given you what you want, you must give me something I want. You know how to hold still."

Bellatrix didn't particularly like this part, from Lord Voldemort or from any man for that matter. She lay face down on the stone floor as he positioned himself from behind her. He removed her dress and undergarments, spread her wide, and got what he wanted.

When it was over, she always ended up in a closed off state of mind. He always made her feel so cold inside. Once Bella felt free of his weight, she sat up.

"Oh and Bella?" He said gently, "You were such a good girl. Here's your reward." He punched her so hard in the face she thought she heard her own bones crack. Her eyes rolled back in her head from pleasure.

She scrambled to her feet, kissed his robes, and disappeared into the night.

Bellatrix apparated outside the cottage she shared with Rodolphus. Halfway to the door, she felt the consequences of the beating she had asked for catch up with her. She dropped to her knees and retched, enjoying the way the acid bile burned her throat and tongue. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. Slowly she regained her balance, and meandered towards the door.

Her husband was waiting in the living room for her. He jumped up immediately when he took sight of her swelled face, and the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. He knew she liked pain, but he never liked to see her in it.

"Bellatrix, what happened to you?" It was a stupid, empty question that they both knew the answer to wholeheartedly.

"I fell. How clumsy of me." She tried to placate him.

"Do you need anything? Food? Potions? Do y-" He offered hurriedly, nothing calmed his anxiety more.

"Shut your mouth, you disgusting filth" she silenced him, his concern evoking a deep panic within her, "you know I need nothing from the likes of you."

He bowed his head.

She stormed past him, hating him for being there, and loathing him for caring.

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As clumsy as you've been,

There's no one laughing.

You will be safe in here.