Portrait of a Tragic Woman

Session Seven: Therapy for the Therapist

Power, and control
I'm gonna make you fall:

Marina and the Diamonds


The next day after work you head out to buy some groceries so you can have something to cook for dinner. You stop by a little grocery store, one that you haven't been to in years since you last moved from this area. But you're kind of in a rush and don't have time to wait in the lines at the bigger shops. You are busy rummaging through the shelves of canned beans, wrapped up in your own little world of what meals you can make with this, not noticing the trio that is entering this aisle, laughing loudly and obnoxiously to one another. Their laughter ends when they notice you.

"Hermione?" they question and you turn around, wishing that you hadn't. That you had just ignored them.

Before you are three faces you could never forget although you wish you could. They are the faces of the people who bullied you all through middle school and high school. Who made your life a living hell. Who made you burst into tears each and every day. They were the ones who made you take up judo.

You haven't seen them ever since you graduated high school and had hoped your paths would never cross but apparently luck is not on your side. The one day you happen to frequent the store in your old neighborhood where they happen to live is the day you run into them.

"How rude, not even going to say a hello to your friends?" asks Pansy, the leader of the trio. She's gained weight since you've last seen her, a double chin on it's way to forming. She crosses her arms over her chest. "It looks like she's lost her manners ever since we've stopped teaching them to her. How long has it been? Ten years?"

You swallow and slowly lower the canned food into the basket you're carrying. You don't know what to say. Even after all these years, seeing them still strikes fear into your heart even though you know you are an adult now and shouldn't be scared of them.

"Ten long years," whistled Crabbe, putting his hands on his hips. He's got a neck tattoo and a couple piercings on his chubby face. "You still the same skinny string bean. With that ugly hair and those dumb looking eyes."

"She's still not talking to us. I think we ought to remind her how to say hello," Goyle added. He began to pound his fist into his palm. "Let's go outside, to have a little chit chat."

"No," you finally find your voice. "I'm not talking to you and I will most certainly not be following your demands." They were adults, why were they still bullies? They should know better.

Pansy laughs. "It looks that she thinks that just because she's all grow up she can boss us around."

"We just want to talk to you. Why you so scared for?" Goyle and the others begin to draw up closer. Their faces are leering at you openly and you let your back hit the shelves. You feel boxed in despite the fact that you have an open aisle and can just run out. But you can't run away. You know that it will make you seem weak and you promised yourself you would never be weak in their eyes. Not anymore.

"You can't touch me in this store," you remind them in a firm voice. "Or else you'll get kicked out."

"That's why you're going to come outside with us. After you buy us our groceries," Pansy adds.

"I think not," you say, holding your chin up level and trying to cover the quiver in your voice. "I'm not going to let you bother me anymore."

"Ms. Granger." A voice snaps all of your heads towards the speaker. It's Narcissa. What is she doing here? Isn't this store too poor for her tastes or something? She's hurrying down the aisle, dressed less elegantly than usual. Crabbe lets out an angry growl. "Let's get out of here." Cowards, they always ran when other people of authority were around.

"I can't believe she has friends now," Goyle shakes his head as they move out of the way and a sigh of relief exits your lips.

"We'll be back," Pansy promises, tossing it over her shoulder before the trio is gone. Well I won't be. You promise yourself that you will never frequent this store again.

"Are you okay?" Narcissa asks as she notes your pale face and the way you eye those who were leaving.

"Yes, I'm fine." You don't want her knowing a thing abut how you used to be bullied. It might make her think lowly of you and not want to keep you as therapist for her sister. "They were some old...acquaintances."

"I see." Narcissa says and it's hard to tell if she believes you or not.

"What are you doing here?" you ask her to shift the focus off of you.

"I don't normally shop here but Bellatrix needed to get some air so I took her out to this grocery store where not a lot of people would recognize us, and in the meantime thought to buy her some food. Can't keep her in the house all the time."

You narrowed your eyes at that. Did Narcissa not have an inkling of an idea that Bellatrix got enough air as it was? You'd seen her in a bar, and even at your own house! How did she manage to sneak out under Narcissa's nose?

You were about to tell the blonde woman this when Bellatrix came strolling down the aisle like she owned this place. She had an open bag of chips and was eating them casually. Today she was wearing black sunglasses, and a big hoodie that went down to mid thigh, baring the rest of her legs. Her cast, which would still be on for another day or two, was inscribed with words that repeated over and over. You couldn't see from this far what they said.

"Bellatrix! What did I tell you about opening and eating the food in the stores!" Narcissa scolded.

"Relax. It's not like you're poor. You can afford to buy this," Bellatrix answers without concern before turning her head to you. "What lovely friends you have there. Did they stop by for a chat, hm?" she hums as she takes a loud bite of a particularly big chip.

"Uh, yea. Haven't seen them in a while," you mumble out, eager to get off of this topic.

"Interesting." And you know you haven't fooled her. She punctuates her statement with a crisp crunch from her chip.

Narcissa frowns at Bellatrix, unsure if that statement is meant to be sarcastic and thus worthy of reprimanding, but you clear your throat deciding you need to leave. "Well, it was nice to bump into you here. But I have to be on my way." You rattle the basket of food in your hands.

"Of course. Have a nice day doctor," Narcissa says, narrowing her eyes at Bellatrix to say the same, but the older woman has already moved on and is now tossing cans onto the floor in a search for something. "Bellatrix!" Narcissa turns to scold the other and you take this moment to wander off to the cash register and pay for your groceries.

But when you go outside the store, you can see the trio from before loitering on the streets. Oh shit. Not this. Not this! They notice you exit and exchange satisfied grins with each other over your panicked facial expression.

"What'd you get us Hermione?" Crabbe asks.

Your mouth feels dry and you turn on your heel and head into the store before your mind can even register what your body has done. Fuck! I've run away from them. Now they'll definitely know how much they freak me out still to this day! Shit! What am I going to do now? Their in the way of my car and I won't be able to just casually walk past them.

At that moment, Narcissa and Bellatrix are approaching the exit, having finished cleaning up the cans. "I thought you would have left by now," Bellatrix comments. She looks sullen, no doubt from a scolding by Narcissa.

"I, uh," you quickly scramble for some sort of excuse. "I locked my keys. In my car. And I can't drive back home."

"Most unfortunate that that has happened. Would you mind terribly if I gave you a lift home?" Narcissa offers, laying a gentle hand on your forearm.

"No, uh, that would be great," you sputter and ignore the suspicious look on Bellatrix's face. For some reason you feel like she knows you're lying but with the round glasses on her face blocking her eyes it's heard to tell. Then again, it's hard to tell anything with her.

Normally you wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone, but you didn't dare to argue against Narcissa's offer, that's how desperate you were to avoid your three bullies.

"My car is just this way," Narcissa grabs your elbow and steers you out the store. On the way out you pass by the trio who watch your departure with curious eyes. You pray that they won't make some sort of comment on this and so far your prayers go answered. But again Bellatrix is watching you with intense scrutiny, the way you duck your head and look at the ground. Her line of vision trails to the trio. You try to stop focusing on the bullies whose eyes burn into your back and try to strike up a conversation with Narcissa. But you're not sure what to say.

"Which one's your car?" you ask, grasping at straws and she points at one at the end of the parking lot. It's gray and sleek and elegant like her personality. "Nice," you let out a low whistle. "Mine's not as nice, of course," you make small talk, wincing internally at your own lame follow up.

"I can imagine you might not be able to afford such a nice car, given the differences in wages made."

That's calling me poor, in a nice way.

"Yea," you lamely finish at which point the three of you have reached the car. You keep your groceries on your lap, the lone brown paper bag not too heavy to handle despite Narcissa offering to put it away in the trunk.

When she tells you to take the passenger side seat you are a bit surprised. "Shouldn't Bellatrix sit here?"

"Nonsense. She'll only fiddle with the radio and drive me crazy," Narcissa answers and it does sound like a typical Bellatrix like move. Perhaps it will be a relief not to have her sit here up front and you will be doing the blonde haired woman a favor.

"Okay." You climb in and Bellatrix goes into the back seat, surprisingly not disputing the fact that her seat has been stolen. Might have to do with the fact that she is currently stuffing her mouth with candy, all her attention on it.

Narcissa starts the car and you smoothly pull out of the parking lot. You can't help but give one last look at the trio through the rear view mirror. They look to be heading back home and you let out a tired sigh. You'll have to come back and fetch your car later. Hopefully you won't run into them during that time. It's just annoying that they've caused this hindrance to your day.

"So, Ms. Granger. How was your day?" Narcissa asks, opening up the conversation and you try your best to keep the conversation alive. Along the way you mention how to get to your house and in about twenty minutes you arrive.

"Thank you so much," you thank as you exit the car. "I thought I was in quite a pinch back there."

"It is of no issue," Narcissa smiles back.

"Good day," you tell both women in the car but Bellatrix ignores you. She's off staring at something outside the window.

"Good day," Narcissa responds and you close the door, watching them drive away.


When seven pm rolls around you decide to go back for your car. You'll need to take a bus in order to get back to the place. And as a safety precaution you decide to bring your pepper spray with you. You know judo, but you seriously don't think you can take on three people at one time. You thumb the pepper spray in your bag nervously the whole ride over, your palms sweating. Arriving at your destination you survey the area, making sure no one you recognize is there. Breathing out a silent thanks that Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle are nowhere to be seen, you unlock your car and slide right in. You gradually relax on the ride back home, thinking that you were worked up over nothing. You even take to humming to yourself, glad everything went fine.

When you get to your house you notice that the lights are on in the living room even though you didn't leave them on when you left. Or did you? You cautiously make your way in and jump at the sight of a familiar woman in black in your room, wearing an even more familiar white coat over her shoulders.

"Bellatrix! What the fuck!"

"Mmmm, quite a nice greeting," Bellatrix clicks her tongue sarcastically as she spins around on her heel away from the mirror where she was checking her reflection in.

"I am not in the mood for you to be here- you shouldn't even be here! What did I tell you about breaking into my house!" You can't help from screaming. This woman is something else! You wonder if she has a tendency for stalking. But nowhere on her past files did it say she stalked her previous therapists.

"I'm here to help."

"Help?" you echo dryly.

"With your therapy session," she states as if this was the most normal thing for her to do. This explains her clothing choice. She's dressed rather professionally, and even nicely, dare you admit. She has on a black turtle neck, long black pants with booted heels. White wire frame glasses sit on her nose and in her hands she's holding a pen and pad. But what takes the cake is the fact she's wearing your coat. She shouldn't be wearing it!

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" you spurt out. "You just can't keep waltzing into my house! You can't do this-what kind of mindfuck are you trying to pull?!" Never in all your years of therapy has this ever happened to you. That a patient basically drives you to such anger, to such violence, to one upping you.

She gives you a lopsided grin. "I can see you're agitated. Please take a seat." She's even arranged the room in a mimicry of what your office looks like and sweeps her hand out to the chair she wants you to sit at.

You can feel red hot anger in your veins and you clench your fists to keep your ugly emotions at bay. Through gritted teeth you say, "and why would you think I would calmly go through all this with you? In fact, I'm calling the cops. I don't care if you're my patient or not, I'm going to get a restraining order on you."

This doesn't have the intended effect. "Oh, scary," she mocks. "Now, stop with the threats and sit down for your session."

"Bellatrix-!" you cannot believe this woman is still going along with this!

"Do you, or do you not want to help?"

"Excuse me?"

"I told you that if you wanted to help me, you had to help yourself. And the only way, for I see you aren't willing to face your problems on your own, is if I help you first." Her voice is stern and she keeps her eyes level on you.

For a moment you are flabbergasted. She wants to help you? That's-you don't know exactly what to make of it. "I don't need your help," you stutter out, not wanting to look weak in front of her. But really, isn't it already too late? She's seen through all your years of lying and hiding things from yourself and from others.

"You don't?" Bellatrix arches a brow. "I find that a bit hard to believe. The interaction with your 'acquaintances' was all I needed to confirm this. They were your primary aggressors, weren't they?"

Your mouth opens and shuts, hoping to refute this point, but nothing but air comes out.

"Ah, I was right," Bellatrix states smugly before she sits down in her chair. "Now sit down before you faint from shock."

You do in fact feel a bit weak in the knees and so gingerly make your way over to the chair positioned directly in front of her, worried that she's going to yet again see something else in your soul. You want to cross your arms over your chest to somehow protect yourself but you don't because it wouldn't work anyways.

"Now, go into the details," she says businesslike and clicking her pen she sets it to paper.

When you sit there, lips pursued and mind still digesting the whole situation, she looks up with mild annoyance in her eyes at you. "So?"

"I don't...I still don't see why I should be sharing this with you," you say at last. You need to be resolute and tough, you are the one with the degree. She's just conducting some silly game. She's just trying to play you again, trying to make you lose in this weird game of wills that the two of you have going on. "After all, you're insane. You wouldn't know what advice to give, how to comprehend the situation." You try to structure a logical argument to prove your point. At the back of your head a voice says that logic doesn't work on those whose minds are muddled but you are going to try anyways.

"That just gives all the more reason for you to tell me what's on your mind," Bellatrix said, slowly sliding the glasses off her face. She bit the end of the leg and you thought the action was criminally too good on her. She should be banned from doing that move. You could feel your cheeks heat up for some reason. In fact her whole demeanor is different right now. More professional. "After all, I won't tell anyone, for no one would believe me anyways. And I know you don't want to tell anyone about your deep dark issues, because of your pride."

"I'm not prideful," you huff out, affronted. "And I just don't want to burden people with my issues-"

"You've never actually been on the receiving end of therapy yourself, have you?" Bellatrix leaned back in her chair, raising her chin up arrogantly and slinging her arm on the back of the chair. "Quite interesting. You're so prideful you refuse to even have your own problems sorted out before you sort out problems for other people. It's quite unhealthy, you know."

"But, I, I mean-" you don't know what to say to this. Yes, you've never been to therapy but only because you thought you could always handle your feelings. That you didn't need to talk them over with someone else. "I can handle myself. I don't need to seek help for my issues. Besides, their all in the past."

"Yes, perhaps that would be the case if it weren't for the fact you didn't have any friends in your childhood, in sum no one you could rely on or dispel your emotions to."

"I had friends!" you snarl out suddenly. This is a sore point for you.

Bellatrix smirks at this. She knows you're lying. She puts her glasses back on, and you wonder briefly if their prescription or not before you go back to being upset at her and the way she is getting inside your head. She takes a pen and scribbles something down. "Come now, pet. I'm really trying to cooperate here. I'm trying to give you a chance to help you get closer to helping me, but you're being awfully childish about this whole thing. And I don't need your unresolved anger and social issues coloring your view of what I do."

"My view points are not skewed! I am perfectly capable of being objective! And I don't want to do this therapy session. There are other ways you can 'help' me if you wish to do so. But this is not one of them."

"And what other way would you suggest?"

"I-I don't know," you fumble for words. "I haven't thought of any yet."

Bellatrix hums, tapping her pen to her lips. She's thinking of something.

"Anyways, just take off my damn coat and stop this whole farce. I want you to go home and I don't want to ever see you in my house ever again-"

"This is making you uncomfortable," Bellatrix softly states and you feel a wash of relief over you. Finally, she gets it!

"Yes, generally when someone else barges into someone's home without notice and takes to wearing their clothes, it can produce more than just mere discomfort at the sight."

Bellatrix shakes her head. "No. You're uncomfortable with bearing your inner self. Now do you understand how I feel at therapy sessions?"

Yet again you find yourself with your mouth flapping open and closed. She's got you there. What can you even say to that? Did she really stage all this just to prove this point? She was incorrigible.

"But," at this she popped off the chair, startling you. "I know you're never going to get this issue resolved unless someone intervenes. You'd just be content with letting it be the way it is. So that's why I've arranged something for you, pet."

What? Your mind goes, at the same time your mouth says, "pet?" What was up with her calling you this now? You thought the mockingly said doc was her thing.

She ignores this. "We're going to drive over to their place and you're going to tell them exactly how you feel about them and what they did to you." At this you shoot up to your feet, nearly colliding into her face from how close she is.

"Are you-" you wanna call her insane, but you think you've driven the point home already earlier. "I am not doing that."

"Are you scared, pet? Think you can't do it? If that's the case then I suppose you're walking away from a great opportunity to pay those who hurt you back for all they've done to you. If you don't take this chance now, then who knows if another one like this will ever arise again," Bellatrix's words are worming their way under your skin and you grit your teeth so tightly you feel they'll explode. Bellatrix has set the pieces into place on this game and you know the moment you walked in here you lost because she'd been putting the pieces into place ever since she saw the bullies.

How is she doing this? How is she getting to me this easily?

"Well?" she asks, still waiting for your answer.

With a deep sigh you nod your head tightly. "I'm going to go, and do what it is you ask of me, only because I want you to see a good example of how a patient should act during a therapy session." You give her a smile, trying to regain some sort of control no matter how minuscule.

By the widening of her eyes behind her glasses, you can see you've done exactly what she wanted you to, but not with the words she expected you to say.

Good, you think triumphantly. You got a slight edge over her.

"Well then. After you," Bellatrix gestures to the door and you head to the car.

The drive over is tense. You're nervous about doing what she asks of you, and you're still annoyed at her managing to force you into this. Her games were seriously annoying you. She is calm (calm for her) however, fiddling with the car radio. She flies through stations before turning them off and then drums her fingers on the headboard. The noise only serves to increase your agitation.

"Would you cut that out?" you hiss at her, unable to hold back the irritation from erupting.

"Cut what out?" she asks innocently.

You inhale sharply and refuse to engage with that comment further. "You know, it really worries me how you know where they live. Did you stalk them too? Like you stalk me?" Did Narcissa really not know what her sister was up to during her spare time?

"You can't tell Cissy. Doctor patient confidentiality." Bellatrix wags her finger at you as she slides down in her seat and then up.

"You're wrinkling my coat," you scold her, eyeing her evilly. This only makes her stick her tongue out at you and she proceeds to slide up and down more vigorously. "And I have a right to report to the people you've been stalking that you have been doing so if I deem it dangerous to their well being."

"The Tarasoff ruling. Yea, I know. But how's that gonna work out, pet? You're the one I visit most in their house and you already know I do that. What, you gonna tell yourself, hey, Bellatrix is at my house? Besides, I've already fulfilled the part of bodily harm so it's a bit too late," Bellatrix scoffs at this, rolling her eyes for good measure. "And as for these idiots, I don't plan on physically harming them. We're just going over for a friendly chat."

"Friendly chat, right," you disbelievingly grunt out as you follow where her finger is pointing to down the street. You've arrived at the place. It's the shitty part of the old neighborhood you used to live at. You suck in a huge breath of air and park the car. Bellatrix is coming with you and for that you're grateful.

Still in slight disbelief that you are doing this, going up to your old bullies house, you ring the doorbell. You're nerves are going crazy right now and so you clench and unclench your hands. You feel half tempted to run away but you know if you do you'll lose. So you don't. You pretend this is just a regular everyday talk.

You go to ring the doorbell again and when no one shows up you shrug and turn to Bellatrix. "No one's here. I guess I go home." You feel relieved at this.

"No. Ring it again." Bellatrix's tone of voice brokered no discussion.

"Right." You ring it again, and finally this time the door opens. Pansy steps out, wearing some stained sweats and holding a can of beer in her hand.

"Hermione?" She questions, clearly caught off guard by this. She eyes the two of you on the steps and you swallow loudly. What now?

"Uh, hi Pansy," you wave awkwardly and Bellatrix clears her throat, disapproving of your weak start. She goes to wipe her glasses.

"Whose the doc?" She eyes Bellatrix next to her.

"I'm glad you asked!" Bellatrix says in a fake cheery voice, as she slides her glasses back on, waiting for this question. "I'm Hermione's therapist!"

"What-no!" You spin on your heel to glare at her.

"Ah, no need to be so shy," Bellatrix waves her hand at you, chuckling lightly. "There is no shame in going to therapy. Really, she's such a sweet person. It's a shame that people like you take advantage of her. Downright disgusting actually." At the disgust in Bellatrix's last sentence Pansy's eyebrows shoot up.

Ah, shit. I have a feeling this is going to go wrong.

"And so she's here to talk to you and your little friends," the dark haired woman gave a smile.

Pansy, looking increasingly uncomfortable with this situation, nodded her head numbly and let the two enter her house. And thus we enter the lion's den, you grimace, trying to ignore the bad smell. It smells like sweat, smoke and alcohol. Cheap alcohol. The place is small inside and Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on the worn green couch, only lit up by the glow from the TV. They were both in their wife beaters and they looked up when Bellatrix pushed you to stand in front of the TV, effectively blocking their show.

"The fuck?" Crabbe eloquently summed up what all three of them were thinking.

"What are you doing in our house string bean?" Goyle chuckled, popping open a new can of beer. Pansy sat down on the free spot on the couch. "I don't know. She and this bitch showed up on my doorstep." Apparently being next to her friend's seemed to give Pansy her nasty tongue back.

You cast a quick glance at Bellatrix's cocky and expectant face and wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans. "Right. I'm here to tell you how much I hate you all."


In retrospect that might not have been the best way to start a conversation with them. Things had gotten pretty violent pretty fast, and with Bellatrix around, she did nothing to help stop the fight. She actually encouraged it. But it was to be expected. It was her, after all.

"See, what did I tell you?" Bellatrix chirped as she sat at your kitchen counter as you plastered her split knuckles on the hand that had the cast on. You could see the words clearly on it, written in some chicken scratch, the same phrase over and over again. I was here, I was here, I was here in varying sizes. Weird. You wondered what it meant.

"You told me to kick their ass," you grunt out as you struggle to put the last plaster on. But Bellatrix is even more energetic than usual due to the fight and she squirms in her seat. Her eyes are glowing despite the bruise forming on her temple and the split knuckles.

"And wasn't that a great piece of advice?" She didn't wait for you to say no like she knew you would and went on. "Come on, the look on their faces was so worth it! Don't tell me it didn't feel good to have them at your mercy, to have them tremble under you."

It had felt nice, but no way in hell would you ever admit to that. Flashes of the fight went through your head. The trio had started it after you had let loose all your pent up resentments at them. But with your judo skills, their apparent lack of exercise and current intoxication, plus the aide of Bellatrix on your side, you had won. And they had been scared. This wasn't the same string bean they remembered. This wasn't the same Hermione. And you had gloated at the end, you would shamefully admit. But come on! It was only right to do so a bit, to relish in the pain they felt after all they had done to you.

"And don't you dare forget this," you had growled, voice low in your throat and eyes hard as you wiped the dribble of blood where Goyle's clumsy attempt at hitting you had worked. "I know where you live. You will never be safe if you think you can hurt me."

They had merely lain there, stunned. And then you left, Bellatrix on your heels.

"I know you enjoyed it, doc," Bellatrix cooed. "But it's alright. I won't speak a word of this to anyone. What happened tonight stays between us. Forgotten even."

You feel the strange urge to thank Bellatrix for what she has done. She in her own twisted way, helped you with what you could now see was your biggest issue. What plagued you for years. What made you less confident. She had been the friend that no one else had been. She had even fought with you. Granted, she was an adrenaline addict and probably did it for her own benefit, calculating there would a fight and thus throwing this together, but in the end she was there, fighting in a way for you as well.

You only wondered if now you were 'cured' in her eyes and thus deemed good to help her.

"So, can I help you now? Am I good enough?" You ask, hating how the words sound like you doubt yourself but she laughs loudly before you can correct your words.

"My dear, that's for you to see. Now, I've got to go. Sleep and all that," she waves a hand over her head and shrugs out of the coat and tosses it to you. Only when she leaves do you raise the material to your nose, noting that it smells like her.

You sigh and close your eyes. A doctor like you shouldn't be acting this way. Shouldn't be letting their patents dictate their life, shouldn't be getting into fights. The bruises on your ribs throb in pain. It's wrong.

But this won't be your last wrong, for though you do not know it, more are to come.

A/N: I had so much fun putting Bellatrix in the role of a therapist in this chapter. Her therapy sessions would definitely be something else. And she's finally helped Hermione with some of her issues, so now it remains to be seen if Bellatrix will finally open up.

Also it may seem a lot like poor Hermione is the patient, with how Bellatrix is tugging her around, but the boundaries between their relationships are very blurred so Hermione will eventually be able to help Bellatrix but not before Bellatrix has some fun at her expense.