This was a terrible idea. Hermione had done a number of foolish things in the past – most notably during her time at Hogwarts – but sneaking Bellatrix Black out of Order Headquarters for reasons even Hermione herself could not fathom truly topped the list of terrible ideas.
Worse, Hermione had no clue which part of the morbid home they were even in, so she was metaphorically flying blind as far as their escape was concerned. She knew, however, that the pair couldn't dare attempt to break the anti-Apparition ward. Hermione had heard horror stories of witches and wizards attempting to break such boundaries, and oftentimes they wound up beheaded or splinched, quite literally, in half – either horizontally or vertically.
Hermione shot that notion down very quickly.
Still, this didn't exactly seem much brighter, she thought wryly, slowly and carefully working her way through the process of breaking down the wards on the door, cautious not to trip any of them in the process. Without a wand, Bellatrix would've had no chance, no matter how powerful her wandless magic might have been or how hastily Dumbledore had applied the wards. Hermione struggled through Dumbledore's sloppy work even with a wand, truthfully, and she excelled in Charms more than most other subjects.
Bellatrix remained uncharacteristically silent, but Hermione could feel the burn of her gaze at the back of her head. She was sure that the older witch had a plethora of questions, but Hermione could answer exactly none of them.
All she knew was that her heart ached with the desperation she felt to keep the dark woman from further harm. Temporarily (and because she had very little choice), Hermione was ignoring that they were on opposite sides of this ridiculous and painful war. It hardly even seemed relevant to Hermione, outside of the strict and pounding fear within that chanted 'don't get caught' over and over against the inner walls of her mind.
A soft hum of triumph rose from Hermione's chest as the last of the wards fell beneath her steady hand.
"Right, then," Hermione breathed, realizing once more that the wards, in all truth, were probably the easy part in all of this. "I'm going to have a look around and find out where we are."
"Where we are?" Bellatrix giggled manically. "Why, we're in the basement, mudblood. My most beloved uncle used these rooms for punishment!"
"Punish- No," Hermione shook her head. "We don't have time for a story. Alright, so if you know the house, what's out there?" Hermione asked, gesturing toward the door with a motion of her hand.
"Traps, most likely," Bellatrix offered an unconcerned shrug and shifted up to her knees, hands still positioned behind her back. "Having second thoughts, love?" She simpered dauntingly.
Hermione frowned. Second thoughts would be entirely rational, given the impulsiveness of her decision and the utter madness of its concept to begin with, but she, unfortunately, could not claim to have spared a doubt. This was the right thing to do, Hermione was sure of it.
She just wasn't exactly sure whom it was the right thing for.
Sighing, Hermione shook her head and motioned to the bound witch with her wand, eyeing her with a dubious gaze.
"If I release you," Hermione treaded warily, "how quickly will I found myself incapacitated, or otherwise harmed?"
"Well, it wouldn't make much sense to attack my rescuer, would it?" Bellatrix said, wicked grin splitting across her face even as her tone expressed only sound reason and a promise for safety.
"Which is all well and good," Hermione nodded, kneeling down to face the more experienced witch, "but I'm not so stupid as you might think. You hate me, and all others of my- kind," Hermione bit out reluctantly, sighing heavily as even the reminder of who this witch was and just what she believed still failed to shake Hermione's resolve to see the woman out of this damn house. "I'm a fairly gifted witch, I know, but even without a wand, I'm not certain that you couldn't best me. So I'm asking," Hermione implored softly, giving in to the inexplicable urge to stroke her fingers along the delicate edge of the other woman's jaw, "if I can trust your word, Bellatrix. I'm asking," she whispered, lifting her eyes to meet the glittering, confused orbs of Bellatrix Black, "if – for tonight, at least – I can rely on you to watch my back, instead of hex it."
Bellatrix masked her surprise, but she wasn't sure that she'd managed to cover it all. This little witch – mudblood, her mind thoughtlessly corrected – was risking quite a bit. She was, essentially, risking everything, in fact.
And for what?
The eldest Black sister was certain that something was awry. Her luck had never been this good. Never. And yet, no being alive with insincere intentions would dare crossing Albus Dumbledore or his infuriatingly powerful wards. As it was, Bellatrix was impressed that the Granger girl had managed to break through them at all, let alone as seamlessly as she had done.
So what was it, exactly, that Hermione Granger wanted of her?
It didn't matter, Bellatrix decided. It was a question for another time, surely, but wherever Granger led her couldn't possibly be any worse, could it?
Bellatrix was familiar with torture. She could inflict it with the best of them, and she quite enjoyed it, too – the power of it, and the purpose it served. But she'd been on the receiving end of torture all her life, beginning with her parents and ending with her Lord. As far as Bellatrix Black was concerned, torture was as essential to life as breathing.
Honestly, how else could one learn what was and was not acceptable behavior? She scoffed at the notion of good will and sneered at generosity, especially when directed at children. It was such a terrible way to teach the young about the ways of the world, because the world simply did not function that way.
People were greedy, and valued self-preservation. Others could not be relied upon to extend good will without reward, and generosity always served a purpose for the benefactor.
If nothing else, her capture and subsequent torture at the hand of the Order had enforced this. Where was Sirius' good will, when he was shoving her into the wall with his fingers curled around her throat? Where was Dumbledore's generosity when bounding and confining her to this dingy, well-worn and dusty punishment chamber with no way to heal her own wounds?
Absent.
And yet… This witch. This witch was clever (despite that Bella cringed even upon thinking it, she refused to underestimate the girl), and had sought nothing from her (yet). This witch had sought only to heal her, to help her escape. To help.
This witch was nothing of how the world worked, that much was quite evident. Did she not know that the consequences of this would rain down upon her for the rest of her natural-born life? Did Hermione Granger understand that she could effectively be banished from her home, and ostracized from everyone she named her friends and family?
Bellatrix wasn't underestimating her, but she found it incredibly difficult to believe that the girl had considered all of this and still elected to release a known Death Eater from incarceration.
Because the world simply did not work that way.
Regardless, Bellatrix would be a fool not to capitalize on the young witch's lack of foresight. Though torture was part and parcel of her role in the Dark Lord's army, she chose him as her Lord; she chose to allow him the authority to punish her as he saw fit. She'd never had that as a child, and often found her parents' rules inane and unworthy of following, and the subsequent punishments ineffective. The Dark Lord, though – Bellatrix understood his rules, and agreed with them. Once breached, punishment was well earned, as far as Bellatrix was concerned.
Being tortured by the Order for information she would never betray was not Bellatrix's choice, nor was it her idea of a good time. It was humiliating and amateur. She unconsciously pouted at all the things she could have done to them, had their positions been reversed. They weren't even creative in their methods, she sniffed disdainfully. Just mindlessly inflicting pain and hoping it worked out for the best.
If one was to commit to torture, Bellatrix believed, then they had best commit properly.
If the mudblood could provide means for an escape, Bellatrix could humor her. And if it happened to isolate the 'brains' of the impudent, always-underfoot, scheming Golden Trio, then that would be all the better. Though she faced retribution for her idiocy in being captured at all, her Lord would be pleased. If Hermione Granger was not around Potter to provide guidance and intelligence that the boy clearly had no respect or affinity for, Bellatrix curled her lip in disgust, then Potter would be a far more accessible (and conquerable) target.
Hermione watched Bellatrix's eyes as they vaulted across her face, first searching for motive before glazing over with the activity within her mind. Each expression flitted by almost too quickly for Hermione to catch it, but without knowing the cause for the pout that eventually jutted out the witch's full lower lip, Hermione thought it- adorable.
Ridiculous, she scoffed to herself.
This entire bloody thing was ridiculous, and yet, with her fingers still smoothing over that elegant jaw, Hermione only anxiously awaited a reply.
"For tonight," Bellatrix eventually purred, dipping just that two inches forward to caper the words across Hermione's mouth, "I would promise you the world, mudblood, if it meant my release."
For reasons unknown, Hermione's breath staggered. She drew in a sharp pull of air and at once felt relief, but also a burning desire for more of- something. Something she couldn't put her finger on, but that radiated from Bellatrix Black in rolls of heady, intoxicating waves.
Hermione wanted to drown in them.
Bellatrix was not unaffected, but even with her vast knowledge of the wizarding world, she could not name that unquenchable feeling that arose within. Whatever magic this mudblood possessed, Bellatrix could only be grateful that the young witch clearly understood it even less than Bella did, and that despite it, she was still in control of all her mental faculties.
Still, Bella told herself, she'd best be careful around the little witch until she had some answers.
Because, she realized, all that Hermione Granger had posed this night had been questions upon questions that Bella could not answer and could not ask.
"Alright then," Hermione murmured, offhandedly waving her wand as if she had not just restored some semblance of power to an infamously feared witch with the same blasé action. "Talk me through the basement layout, and we'll see about where we go from there. Okay?"
Wiggling her fingers and rotating her wrists, Bellatrix offered the smirk trademark of Slytherin house, licked her lips, and cooed, "Such a bright girl given no information…" She tutted softly. "What a waste."
"Why is that?" Hermione asked cautiously, wand still extended but lowered to rest vertically against her thigh as a silent vow to reciprocate Bella's promise.
"Ohh, muddy," Bellatrix cackled delightedly, "the things I could do to you in my dungeon would positively pale in comparison to this… mockery," Bellatrix gestured around the room with a grimace of distaste.
"Then," Hermione cleared her throat softly, "from my perspective, Bellatrix, it's actually quite a good thing that I don't know anything about the Order, isn't it?"
Bellatrix crawled an inch closer – the last inch, in fact. The last inch separating her lithe, supple frame from Hermione's, breasts softly pushing into the younger brunette's with undisclosed intent. She swiped her tongue across her own lips once more, ghosting only just slightly against Hermione's in the process, and both women quaked at the raw sensuality of this moment, knelt on the floor and pushed together in some basement room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place with tentative, vowed promises to keep one another safe – just for one night.
"I assure you, darling filth," Bellatrix murmured, tone caught somewhere between inexplicable affection and the entirely expected derision that came so naturally to her, "there are a number of ways to coax a woman into sharing – and not all of them are quite this crass. You would beg me to allow you to speak, if only I pledged to honor you with… just a little… something in return," she leered softly.
And then, she covered the mudblood's mouth with her own, hating herself for the thrum and thump and pulse of magic within as the little witch moaned into her lips.
Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this. I've some idea of where I'd like this to go, but this pairing (and Bellatrix's character in general, honestly) are pretty new to me, so I hope I'm doing them justice. Let me know if anything seems OOC or unlikely to you. Feel free to let me know what you think!
