Such an unfortunate room. Others may have called it humble, but to Bellatrix it was an insult. It's floors were poorly maintained. Dust had settled on near every surface and the windows were coated in an opaque film of dirt. In any other situation she would have killed the stinking inn keeper in a heartbeat - for keeping such a stinking inn, but these were the only grounds where they could meet. So she stood, uncomfortably, in this room. With it's humble bed on such humble scale. She hardly understood how they expected people to sleep in that thing. It was scarcely wide enough for one person to stretch out it, let alone two.
Outside the sun had set hours ago and the sky was coloured by the blue smoke of inhabitancy. The usual murmur of living died down. Dead silence. Dead silence and tramps groaning about their lives in the gutter. As far as Bellatrix was concerned anyone who frequented this horrid place deserved to end up in the street. The street, at least, would be cleaner than this sty. With the addition of a Dementor or two it could be comparable to Azkaban, truthfully. Here she grimaced. The dank, fetid walls of that hellish place were never far from her thoughts. Sighing, Bellatrix stooped onto the edge of a table. Lifting the mass of her body off the floor with ease. Casually she swung her legs back and forth, musing about the wasted lives squirming down below. Drunkards, tramps and fools too stupid to see their own failures. They were too stupid to even flicker at the Death Eater who had walked right by them en route to this room.
The girl had proved herself, yes. She appreciated magic. She appreciated powerful spells. She understood the irrevocable commitment to the cast that each witch and wizard must make and she understood the toll on the body. She was different from those street dwellers, those idiots. She respected magic. She worked for it. It was almost enough to excuse her disgusting blood. Almost. Here, Bellatrix smiled. There was nothing to her, at that moment or any, like a truly crippling spell. Spells to leave the victims retching for all their weaknesses. She removed her wand from her side and held the weapon in her hands. So many fond memories. So much screaming. She twirled the implement between and around her fingers, in a familiar gesture, recalling all the splendid pain it had once caused - and would no doubt cause again.
Just then her ears picked the sound of footsteps. Footsteps on the landing. Silently she slid off the edge of the table, taking quiet steps across the room. Her whole body pricked with anticipation. Her muscles twinged with absolute stillness. Bellatrix raised her wand and a jet of water shot from the tip. Extinguishing the fire. Plunging her into darkness. The edges of her form were impossible to define now, her hair and her clothes were as black as the night, which now seeped in through the windows. She moved, without noise, over to the door. Her feet lifting and returning to meet the ground so deliberately. She would make no sound. Bellatrix stood behind the swing of the door, whoever entered the room next would not see her. Would not hear her. The footsteps edged closer, the collisions cutting out a rhythm in the silence. She breathed in slowly, as if the friction of her lungs would alert the being to her. The breathing might give her away. She exhaled. The witch's eyes frantically scanned through the darkness for any trace of noise or tell tale thud - and she stopped breathing all together when she heard the door handle of the room creak with use. She could feel her eyes open wide, like the vicious animal within her was about to burst out. The door sighed open on it's hinges and the being lifted it's feet. Around the edge of the door a hand came slowly into view. The pale skin reflecting the moon light, seeming to glow. After the hand came the rest of the arm, the tips of toes and thick waves of straw coloured hair. Granger. At first the girl peered around the room and then, silently, she shut the door behind her. Her footsteps were gentle now, not willing to provoke the creature that undoubtedly lurked within this cave.
"Lumos." It came as a whisper but the room was lit up in an instant.
It was the signal Bellatrix needed. Almost immediately after the room was washed with a brilliant white light it was plunged again into darkness. The dark witch launched herself from the corner at the girl, who let out a cry of surprise. She manipulated the body beneath her hands and pushed it up against the wall. Looking right into Hermione's eyes, which reflected the street lamps outside, Bellatrix was at her wildest. Fear washed the girl's face. The woman leaned in, and asked low-
"Did anyone see you?"
Refusing the witch an audible answer Bellatrix kept the hand clasped over her mouth. She felt the rapid intake and expulsion of breath as it was forced out her nostrils and cascaded over her digits. The girl's eyes were wide, but she shook her head all the same. Satisfied, Bellatrix released her and walked back over to the window. For a moment the room was filled with heavy breathing and the sound of rustling clothes.
"Light a fire." She ordered.
Complying wordlessly Hermione stooped to the fireplace, "Incendio."
The dark witch turned to the girl. Enraged. Furious. A snarl crept on her lips as her blackened irises bore holes through her company. She raised her wand. The witch understandably flinched. Instead another jet of water shot from the dark witch's wand and extinguished again the flames churning in the fireplace.
"Without words." She hissed.
Closely, scrutinisingly, Bellatrix watched Hermione as she raises her wand. She watched as the girl's brow wrinkled in concentration, and eagerly she awaited the silent flames. The Death Eater could hardly process how furious she would be if this girl, who supposedly respected the strength of magic, failed to produce a wordless Incendio. Hermione was so eager to please the dark witch. And if she should fail? Well, it would probably be kinder to put the little thing out of her misery then and there. Suddenly and silently a jet of white flames erupted from Hermione's wand and settled instantly in the fireplace. The logs within it were glad again to know warmth and crackled contently.
Shame, she thought. "Good," she said.
Bellatrix sauntered, walked, strode over to where Hermione was standing. Confidently she reached out and took hold of the neck of the girl's shirt and tugged her forward. Spasmodic breaths retched and out of the young witch as she tried to comprehend what would come next. Though, she didn't resist the dark witch, darker than the night and holding no luminosity.
"I don't want to hear any spells from you ever again. Clear?" Her voice came coarse like sand. But the witch nodded just the same. "Now, show me something else."
Releasing her grip on the girl Bellatrix watched her close. Her wide, dark eyes taking in every movement she made. Cautiously she saw the girl lift her wand, raise it high, and aim it at her own chest. She cocked an eyebrow, a challenging look, and practically bared her teeth to the girl who dared raise a wand to Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione's brows furrowed, deep in concentration as the tip of her wand followed a very precise trajectory.
The dark witch felt like she had been hit in the chest with something warm. Looking down at her clothes she saw their properties changed. The smooth, firm leather of her corset had now begun to drip and sag. She ran her fingers over, or rather through, the material and it stuck to her digits absolutely. As thick as molasses the black goop tangled her fingers together. Excitedly, she laughed. Again she tried to run her hands over her coverings but found the slime thicker this time. Thick black threads of rubber bound her arms and her hands to her body, rendering her motionless. Stuck. Glued to herself.
"Good!" She shrieked, pleased with Hermione's progress.
Again the girl raised her wand, this time removing the Epoximise. Bellatrix ran her fingers over the now tactile garment. A complete shift in texture and function, very impressive. She laughed. Looking at the witch now through heavy lidded eyes. Bellatrix demanded in a tone that made Hermione blush,
"Stronger."
The girl averted her gaze. She bent at the knee and turned to face the now roaring fire. This time she pointed her wand at her own hand. Delicately motioning over it's surface, being sure to cover, if she might, it's entire surface. Bellatrix watched her with an eyebrow raised. Carefully, attentively observing. Hermione swallowed hard and leaned forward. She extended her hand through the air and slid it into the licking flames. Bellatrix gasped and clapped, excitedly applauding the control. Inwardly, she hoped the girl might set herself alight. The screams would be exceptional. Still, it would be a waste of potential. A waste of potential talent. Of which this witch may have a sliver. Hermione held her hands in the flame for longer than perhaps was necessary. Perhaps she was amazed, at the power of her own magic. Bellatrix reached out, grasping for the back of the girl's shirt this time. Effortlessly she hoisted the witch to standing. They were now face to face. Confidently the dark witch took hold of the should-be charred limb and inspected it. Closely. Pressing it to her lips. Gathering it's scent. Searching for any trace of a poorly executed spell. There was none. Remarkable. Here the woman allowed her tongue it's freedom. She closed her eyes as the muscle travelled along the length of the witch's index finger, wanting to taste fire. But she found only the taste of flesh. Hermione's mouth hung open slightly at the display and her breath raked in. Suddenly Bellatrix's eyes bolted open to reveal the glassy crystal depths beneath. Their lips crashed together as the dark witch discarded the limb. The rhythm they set was impeccable. Quick. Between their warm joining flowed an intense adoration for powerful spells. Hermione held Bellatrix's body closer than she anticipated. Tighter than she thought. The dark witch plunged herself into the Mudblood, who shivered at the absolute exploration. It was the magic which drove Bellatrix crazy.