Murder Most Horrid
Chapter 9: To protect and to serve.
Bellatrix was at Hermione's side while she checked in at St. Mungo's. Hospitals were not her favorite place in the world and this one was no exception to that rule. The air was rife with the smell of antiseptics and, to be fair, hospitals never 'felt right' to her to begin with.
For the duration of her detox, an entire month, Hermione'd be staying in at the Potions and Plants Poisoning wing. An apt name. The dark witch wasn't really paying much attention when the two of them sat in the office of Miriam Strout listening to the annoyingly cheerful healer explaining the procedures and the effects of the month-long treatment. Hermione, on the other hand, was completely focused.
In truth, Bellatrix didn't think Strout was worth listening to. She was sugar-coating reality. Meanwhile, the young witch was so determined to kick the addiction, so resolved. To say that Hermione would be going through hell was a massive understatement; insoma-potion addiction was brutal to shed. There'd be no help through magical means as that would have a negative effect on her treatment. She'd have to go completely cold turkey.
That prospect hadn't diminished Hermione's boundless optimism in the slightest. And, as Bellatrix had learned, once the girl had gotten something in her head, there was no talking her out of it. It was both inspiring and frightening to see.
"Why don't you go with nurse Ratched, Hermione?" Strout offered a friendly smile after getting up from her desk. She lay a hand on the girl's shoulder. "She'll take you to your room and help you settle in."
Hermione thanked Strout and shot Bellatrix a warm smile before the nurse took her into the hallway. "If you just sign the release forms, detective Black," said Strout. "I promise you we'll take good care of her."
Bellatrix took the clipboard, took out a quill and signed the dotted line. "Why did you lie to her?" Bellatrix asked.
Strout took the clipboard. "Lie? I wouldn't say that. I did... neglect to mention some of the harsher effects of insoma withdrawal. I simply don't want to discourage miss Granger before her treatment even starts. Her attitude is amazing. She's going to need it."
"Is that why you allowed her friends to host that party for her?" Bellatrix asked.
"The truth is," said Strout. "She's going to need the support of her friends to get through this... Friends and loved ones."
The look she gave Bellatrix as that moment said enough. "Noticed that, hm?" was her reply.
"A blind, deaf person would notice," Strout replied. "They way the two of you look at each other says it all."
"Well, it seems I have a party to attend, then," Bellatrix said while rising out of her chair.
As part of her recovery, her friends had organized a 'get well soon'-party for Hermione in one of the hospital's staff rooms on the first floor. Miriam Strout had allowed it, since, like she said, keeping a positive outlook would be vital to Hermione's recovery.
There were about thirty people in total, mostly students from Hogwarts. Certainly, for someone who claimed to not be very popular, Hermione had a lot of friends whom had come out to wish her luck. The Weasely twins had secured cheerful animated party favors, even including a few baby dragons who used their fire-breath to make freshly roasted peanuts. A girl she had met before, one Luna Lovegood, was hanging up strange snow-shoe shaped objects to keep things called Aquavirius Brain Maggots away from Hermione to speed her recovery. Harry Potter and the Weasel-boy were there as well; she understood that they had gotten off relatively lightly as their punishment would be to clean out the owlry after school hours for the remainder of the year.
While the kids were having fun, Bellatrix felt more and more like an intruder. Really, she hardly knew any of these kids and just awkwardly stood by the side nursing a fizzy drink. It also didn't help that one of Hermione's teachers had shown up; McGonagall, of all people. Still, the two of them had an unspoken and silent temporary truce for Hermione's sake. Bellatrix stayed on one side of the room, McGonagall on the other. The dark witch chuckled to herself; so many wonderfully creative snarks would forever remain unspoken. Hermione'd better appreciate this!
Sweet Merlin, she wished her fizzy drink was fire-whiskey right now. She felt like she could drink a whole bottle.
"Bellatrix?"
Hermione. Bellatrix hadn't even noticed her approach.
"Hm, hello pet," the dark witch spoke. She wanted to reach out to touch Hermione's cheek, but changed her mind halfway through, letting her arm drop to her side. "How many of them know about us?"
Hermione looked over her shoulder. "Well, McGonagall does, obviously."
"Of course. Hag!"
"I told Harry first," Hermione said. "Once he stopped laughing he wished us the best. Ron, well... he's still dealing, but he'll come around."
Bellatrix looked at the crowd and saw the Weasel-boy looking at them. The moment Ron spotted her looking in his direction, he bowed his head and disappeared into the crowd. Hermione had apparently followed her gaze. "Everybody expected Ron and I to get together at some point. We saw each other for a while during our fifth year, but decided to just remain friends. Oh, Luna also knows. It's hard to keep secrets from her since she's so frighteningly perceptive. As for the others, well, I think most them either know or suspects. The Hogwarts rumor mill works frighteningly fast. It's like a force of nature."
"I see," Bellatrix sighed heavily, but finished what she'd started early; she lay a hand on Hermione's cheek and gently caressed her soft skin with her thumb. Hermione blushed slightly, and covered Bellatrix's hand with her own. The dark witch wanted to kiss her then and there.
"You're not happy, are you?" Hermione spoke before Bellatrix had the chance to lean in.
"I... really shouldn't be here, pet," Bellatrix shook her head. "Too many people, too many loud noises. This is a party for you and your friends. I'm the outsider here."
"Nonsense," said Hermione as she hooked her arm around Bellatrix' and started dragging her towards her chatting friends. "Come on, I'll introduce you."
Bellatrix blanched. "I, uh, I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Come on, I'm sure they'd love to meet you."
"Perhaps, but would I love to meet them?! You ever think of that?"
"Hush, now." Any protest was futile; once the young witch had an idea in her head, after all...
When the party ended, Hermione was officially admitted and her detox had started. At first, Hermione had been optimistic and cheerful, ready to meet the challenge head-on like any other. She had a lot of support; plenty of friends and Bellatrix who visited her every day.
It quickly went downhill.
It was friday evening, five days after Hermione had been admitted to St. Mungo's. As per usual, Bellatrix visited after working hours and had stopped by the hospital's gift shop to buy a fresh batch of flowers to liven up Hermione's dull grey hospital room.
As days passed by, Hermione had just gotten sicker and sicker and sicker. Today was no different.
"Hello pet," Bellatrix greeted with a soft voice while entering the room. There was no reply, but really Bellatrix wasn't expecting any. The dark witch put the flowers in a vase on a small table near the window. On the table were more flowers and other gifts, such as boxes of chocolate and candy.
Not that Hermione would be in a state to eat anytime soon. In fact, Hermione couldn't keep any food down at all. She'd lost a full stone in the first week and had to be fed intravenously.
Bellatrix took a fold-out chair and sat next to her pet, now a shivering lump underneath a pile of blankets on her bed. The young witch lay in a fetal position, and as soon as he had apparently heard Bellatrix shifted the chair towards her, her head popped out from under the blankets.
The dark witch's breath caught in her throat; Hermione looked terrible. Drenched in sweat, her hair was matted against her now ashen gray skin. She looked up to her with wide and blood-shot eyes. Her hand slid out from underneath the blankets and found Bellatrix's. No doubt the girl tried to squeeze, but lacked the strength for it.
"B... Belle..." Hermione croaked out, unable to pronounce her full name without choking on her own words.
"I'm here pet," Bellatrix replied. "Sssh, don't speak."
"C-cold..." Hermione shivered. "Why... am I... so cold?"
Bellatrix felt the girl's forehead. She was absolutely burning up.
"C-could... you... anoth... blanket... please?"
Despite her better judgment, Hermione was burning up as it was after all, the dark witch went to the cupboard near the door and fetched another blanket. The young witched looked at her with gratitude while Bellatrix folded the blanket over her.
"B-belle," Hermione whispered. "I'm... going... to beat this... going... to get... better."
"I know you will, pet," replied Bellatrix. However, Hermione didn't sound nearly as sure about herself as she had been a few days ago.
"Still... so... cold..."
For the duration of the visiting hours, Bellatrix sat with Hermione. No words were exchanged, as Hermione became somewhat delirious soon after and mumbled something unintelligible once in a while. The dark witch settled for merely holding the girl's hand. Ever so often, a nurse came in to check up on her, waving a wand over the bed and apparently deciding Hermione was doing fine. If anything about this could be called fine.
Eventually, visiting hours came to an end and Bellatrix had to reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand when nurse Ratched came into the room to chase her off hospital ground. There was a brief whimper coming from underneath the heap of blankets.
"I'll be back tomorrow, pet," the dark witch whispered. "Be strong."
Once outside in the hallway, Bellatrix took a moment to regain her composure. She hated feeling this powerless; there was no spell to fix this, no potion, no charm, not even a Dark Art to help Hermione. All she could do was sit next to her and hold her hand. And what the hell would that even accomplish?
The sounds of the heels of her boots hitting the floor echoed through the hallways of the hospital. Just like yesterday, it was time to head to the Leaky Cauldron to get completely hammered.
It was a day halfway through the second week of Hermione's treatment and, thank the stars, the girl had been doing much better compared to last week. Though her system had gone through quite a shock, she was no longer confined to her bed and was moving about a bit more. According to Luna Lovegood, whom she had spoken the day before in the hospital gift shop, Hermione was taking small meals again.
Today Bellatrix had been delayed to a lengthy review of one of her cases; the Flint kid's case would be going to trial soon and the prosecutor had wanted to discuss some of the finer details of with her. Of course, the idiot had been droning on and on and on about details she had explained ad nauseum several times in a row already. So much in fact that she had almost missed visiting hours.
The dark witch had hurriedly rushed to Hermione room, only to find the young witch falling into her arms the moment she entered.
"Easy there, pet," Bellatrix laughed while Hermione, who was wearing a comically oversized hospital gown, clutched onto her. "I know I'm late, but..."
Whatever sentence the dark witch had wanted to say caught in her throat the moment she saw the madness in Hermione's eyes. There was desperation in it, a hunger. The wrong kind of hunger.
"Please," Hermione's fingers dug into Bellatrix's arm. "I need some insoma. Please, Bellatrix. Just a drop. Just a tiny drop. It won't hurt if it's just a tiny drop. You love me, don't you? Please, please, I need it so much. If you really love me, you'll get some for me. Please!"
Bellatrix was startled by the mad look in Hermione's eyes: the witty, smart and lovely young girl she had come to know and deeply care for was completely gone, replaced by a desperate beast who hungered for one thing only. All semblance of rationality had fled from the deathly pale girl.
She took a deep breath. "Hermione," she said gently. "You know I can't do that."
"Just a drop!" Hermione reaction was to burst into tears. "Just a tiny, tiny drop! That can't be so difficult, can it? It'd help me so much! Please! Please!"
The dark witch shook her head, laid her hands on Hermione's shoulders and gently pushed her away. She wordlessly turned her back to the stunned Hermione, walked out the door and closed it behind her.
Bellatrix stood in the hallway, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths. Yes, it was difficult seeing her in that state, but as painful as it was for her, it was best for Hermione to just walk away.
A sudden pounding on the door behind her sounded, and the face of Hermione hovered near the reinforced glass, her normally gentle expression twisted with horrible rage. "You did this to me! It was you who put me in here!" sounded the screams, muffled by the heavy wooden door and the glass. "I hate you! I wish I never met you! I HATE YOU!" The girl followed it up with an endless stream of foul obscenities which wouldn't be out of place at the London docks.
A torrent of emotions shot through the dark witch as she walked through the hallways back to the waiting area. In a rational sense, she knew that Hermione wasn't herself, that it was her addiction talking and she hadn't actually meant a word of it. But in the end, Bellatrix was only human and Hermione's words had hit her harder than ever she was expecting.
Bellatrix laughed bitterly while walking through the oppressively white corridors. 'You're supposed to be a cynical git, remember?' she told herself.
She passed the waiting room and noticed Potter and the Weasel-boy sitting there. The dark witch had been in such a hurry that she had never even seen them as she passed them by earlier. So much for her keen eye for detail.
Bellatrix sat down on one of the benches. Immediately, she saw that the boys were very downtrodden. Potter especially seemed rather disturbed. "You too, hm?" Bellatrix told the boys whom had been obviously been subject to Hermione's attempted guilt-tripping and subsequent outburst as well.
Potter only nodded in response.
"I think I can get her some," the Weasel-boy spoke up. "Fred and George might be able to track down some insoma. It won't hurt if it's just a little, right? Just a drop, like she said!"
"Ron," Harry started. "You know we can't."
Immediately, Bellatrix let out a snarl and was upon the Weasel-boy, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him against his chair. "I'll pretend... I haven't heard that. If even one drop, even one, gets into her body right now it'll undo her entire treatment. She'll have to go through that hell all over again! Do you want that, Weasel? DO YOU?! Because, I swear, if I catch you smuggling in insoma for Hermione, I'll hit you with a Cruciatus curse so intense that you'll spend the rest of your life drooling all over the floor of the loony bin!"
Ron gulped as the dark witch released him and sat back down on the bench, still seething. "That's... that's an Unforgivable," he could only stammer.
"Which I am officially licensed to cast!" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. It was a lie, pure and simple. The Department really didn't appreciate their cops throwing Unforgivables around unless the circumstances were really extreme. Of course, the Weasel-boy wouldn't know that.
"I... I just don't want Hermione to hate us, that's all," Ron said sheepishly while apparently making an intense study of floor tiles.
"Hermione doesn't hate us, Ron," Harry said, then suddenly smiled. A smile turned into a grin. A grin turned into a laugh.
"What are you laughing about?" Ron suddenly frowned. "Nothing about this is funny."
"Ron," Harry started. "You just said you could get your hands on an illegal substance... in front of a cop."
"Oh?" Ron bit his lip. "OH! Madam... officer... police... Black..."
The fearful looks Ron gave her were just too much; Bellatrix started laughing in spite of herself. "I told you before, that's Detective Chief Inspector Black. Hm, I don't know. Maybe I should bring you in," she said as she playfully cracked her knuckles. "It's been a while since I've had a gruelling twelve-hour long interrogation session. Few things in life give me as much pleasure."
As Ron blanched even further, both Harry and Bellatrix laughed even harder. A bright spot on this day of misery.
After the incident, Bellatrix decided to give Hermione some space and didn't visit for a couple of days. It was surprisingly difficult for her to stay away, and preferred to spend most of her evenings drowning herself in fire-whiskey at the Leaky Cauldron rather than sitting at home thinking about Hermione. It had been a good decision, though, since Strout had told her that Hermione had been getting increasingly violent to a point that she had had to be restrained on more than one occasion. Strout had told her she would send her a message when Hermione would be ready to receive visitors again.
To pass the time, Bellatrix did the only thing she could: she threw herself on her work.
In the lull between cases, the members of Magical Homicides would often help each other out with the angles of their perspective cases. Petunia was handling a case in which a witch had given herself a false alibi by having an accomplice drink a polyjuice potion and Bellatrix had to admit she was impressed that Petunia had managed to figure that out so swiftly. It also had just about the right level of complexity to keep Bellatrix's wandering mind focused and busy.
Of course, all of her colleagues were now quite aware of her involvement with Hermione, and that hag McGonagall was responsible for that. The old bitch had sent a whole series of letters of complaint to Jensen, which her poor boss had all dutifully answered with the standard diplomatic 'bugger you' reply letter. Most of the original complaints had ended up pinned to the office's bulletin board, however, for everybody to have a good laugh at Bellatrix' expense. They, however, were all genuinely happy for her, and mostly offered some good-natured riffing with endless questions if Hermione was a 'go-er'.
"Trix, got a moment?" Jensen called from his office. A few minutes later, Bellatrix was sitting opposite to her boss in his office with the door closed. The look on his face wasn't encouraging. He rubbed the side of his scalp for a moment before leaning on his desk.
"Trix," Jensen started. "There's something I've been putting off for a bit now, but there is something we do need to discuss."
"Who did I piss off this time, mum?" Bellatrix snorted.
"You pissed off me!" Jensen narrowed his eyes before throwing the Pettigrew case-file on his desk. "I've read your report about the Pettigrew case. I couldn't help but notice you omitted certain details about your nocturnal activities."
Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed. She knew this would be coming. "I see."
"You slept with a suspect, during an investigation," Jensen spoke. "That's not very professional. In fact, that's the very opposite of professional! The little fact of you dragging miss Granger to your bed might not be included in any official reports, but unlike what the pencil-pushers say, that doesn't mean it never happened!"
"I know," she sighed. "I admit it's perhaps not the smartest thing I've ever done, but I'll never regret it."
"Well, you should!" Jensen raised his voice. "Goddammit, Trix, what were you thinking?! Wait, don't answer that, I have a pretty good idea what you were thinking. Don't you realize what you've done?! You've potentially cast your entire case in a negative light."
"Look," Bellatrix challenged. "All the facts are in the file, and my conclusion has been drawn by meticulously analyzing those facts. There's no other outcome than I have described and I'll challenge anyone to claim otherwise!"
Jensen wouldn't let go. "Which you've made questionable due to your stupidity, you cack-handed moron!" he shouted, making Bellatrix flinch. The accusation made her angry, that was for sure... but the worst thing was that Jensen was also absolutely right. She had acted unprofessionally. She had endangered her case. Sleeping with Hermione had been a gross violation of the rules of conduct.
"Your conclusion is valid and fits the facts flawlessly. I know that, you know that, miss Granger knows that... but others will claim that you let miss Granger off easily because you were infatuated with her. Wickeder tongues could claim that you have abused your power to lure miss Granger into your bed in exchange for preferential treatment! You have devalued your own integrity, potentially damaging to yourself, your career and the entire Department! If a parasite like Rita Skeeker were to find out about this... I don't even want to think about what could happen! Welcome to the front page, miss Black."
"Seriously, mum," Bellatrix smirked and flipped her hair. "I'd rather be a page-three girl. I still have physique for it, if I do say to myself."
That was not the response Jensen had been hoping for. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?!" he roared. "DO YOU SEE ME LAUGHING?! DO YOU?!"
Bellatrix could only nod. This was a time to just sit back and take the hit; any lip back would only make things worse.
"It's sheer dumb luck that it turned out the way it did. It's out of the official reports, but if this had gone to trial in any shape or form, any defense attorney worth his salt would have had your head on a silver platter! As it is, you'll be happy to know the Wizengamot, in its infinite wisdom, has decided your report is sufficient and there won't be a trial or even an informal hearing," said Jensen. "I somehow suspect the Chief Warlock had a hand in that."
Bellatrix couldn't help but let out a wry laugh. Dumbledore… it always came back to Dumbledore.
"This is not funny, Trix!" Jensen roared, apparently having misinterpreted the dark witch's chuckle. "The DMLE isn't going to risk endangering the investigation into the smuggling ring by holding a public hearing over small fry like Pettigrew. You crawled through the eye of the fucking needle!"
Bellatrix shook her head. "Are you quite done, mum?"
"Just one more thing," Jensen spoke, more softly this time. "Why did I have to hear about you and miss Granger through a letter of complaint and the office rumor mill? Why didn't you come to me yourself, hm? My door has always been open for any of my people. I've always defended you in the past. I've always trusted you. So why didn't you trust me?"
Bellatrix didn't have an answer for him. The disappointment in his voice and demeanor was obvious. In many ways, she'd rather have Jensen being angry with her. Easier to deal with.
"It's not like that, mum," Bellatrix shrugged. "Nothing about this is... usual. I never planned for anything to happen between me and Hermione. It just did."
"Yeah, I suppose I can understand that. Trix, I've always trusted your judgment," Jensen said. "And I still do. But I see I'm going to have to be stricter with you. To protect you from yourself if anything."
"Anything else, mum?" Bellatrix sighed briefly.
Jensen's expression softened considerably. "Only that I wish you and miss Granger all the happiness in the world, Trix. Make it work. Make it worth it."
Bellatrix blinked, then nodded slightly. That was a turn of events she hadn't expected. "I... thanks, mum."
"Officially, I'm supposed to suspend you and give you a reprimand for your unprofessional behavior," Jensen smirked slightly.
Bellatrix chuckled. "So reprimand me already," she challenged. "It won't be the first time."
Jensen said nothing, but bent forward somewhat. He reached over and sharply tapped the back of her hand. "Naughty!" he spoke seriously, then smiled and sat back.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"I'm not sure I can survive this injustice," Bellatrix responded with a sarcastic edge on her voice. "You'll be hearing from my solicitor."
"I could still suspend you if it makes you feel better, but that'll increase the workload of the others so much that I suspect I will be lynched," Jensen shrugged.
Bellatrix nodded. "Normally, I wouldn't even have considered it, but... that girl, Jensen. That girl..."
"There's that look again!" Jensen laughed.
Bellatrix frowned. "What look?"
"That dreamy expression you get whenever you think of Hermione Granger," said Jensen. "It's pretty obvious to all of us that you're completely in love!"
Bellatrix grunted and shifted uncomfortably. Sweet Merlin, she must seem so sickeningly obvious to people around her. "Seen that, haven't you?"
"You're working normal hours for the first time since I've known you," said Jensen. "Trix, the last fifteen years I've seen you work yourself to death. You have a tendency to starve yourself when working on a case and then binging on junkfood. I don't even dare to count how many times you turned up for work completely hung over. Ever since you and miss Granger... it's as if a change is sweeping over you."
Bellatrix snorted. "I don't feel any different."
"But you act different," Jensen said. "Trix, you're arrogant, you're rude, you're stubborn as all hell. You can't go a day without pissing off somebody and I daresay you enjoy pissing off people just a tad too much. Some might say you're downright self-destructive and more than a little nutty."
Bellatrix snorted. "You paint a bright picture, mum."
"You're also loyal, brave, smart as a whip, tenacious, one of the best damn cops in this entire Department and one hell of a witch," said Jensen. "Any super should count their lucky stars to have you on their team... but that doesn't make you any less of a tremendous pain in the arse, Black!" Jensen laughed for a moment.
Bellatrix watched her boss look away for a moment before locking eyes with her again. "Look," he said. "What I'm trying to say it that I'm happy for you. We all are. I've been telling you for the better part of fifteen years that you're working too hard. You can't just live for your work, Trix."
"Hah!" Bellatrix laughed. "Look who's talking! I think if we start counting hours put in at the office, Jensen, your count will be higher than mine.
"Hey, super's prerogative," he grinned and grabbed a file from his drawer. "In the meantime, I have a new case for you to handle. Special request from Investigations. I'm certain you will handle it with your usual due diligence."
Bellatrix took the file. It was good timing as she had finished her paperwork on the Pettigrew case and she was up for a new challenge. Curious as she was, she flipped through the file but found no mention of a murder. However, the name 'Mittens' was a returning feature in the file. And when she saw the picture of the 'victim'... Oh, no... this couldn't be right. Jensen wouldn't. He wouldn't!
"… You want me... to find… A missing kneazle?!"
Jensen sat back and grinned. "A fitting punishment!"
A bloody waste of her considerable talents, that's for sure! Still, all things considered Bellatrix figured that she had gotten off lightly. She might have lost some credit with Jensen, maybe a privilege or two, and she'd be stuck with a crap case for a bit, but... she still had Hermione. And that was everything.
"Get to it, Trix!" Jensen said. "Mittens isn't going to find himself!"
Bellatrix emerged from Jensen's office and practically threw the file onto her desk. After a few minutes of staring at it, she flipped it open and reluctantly started reading the reports inside. "Alright," she groaned inwardly. "Where was Mittens last seen?"
Rescue came in the form of a house-elf, informing her that someone had sent her a message by owl It was a letter from Miriam Straut. It told her Hermione needed her and to come as quickly as she could.
Not even two minutes later, Bellatrix was in Hermione's room, hugging the young witch tightly as they sat on the hospital bed together. "Please," Hermione cried. "I want it to end. Please, just let me die. I don't want to feel this pain anymore. Just... let it end, let me die. Let me die, please."
The dark witch felt hot tears touch her skin as she clutched Hermione to her. "Be strong, pet," Bellatrix whispered. "You'll get through this. Hey, there's still so much of the Muggle world left to show me. When you get better, you can take me anywhere you want to go, I promise. You're strong. You're a survivor."
Honestly, Bellatrix couldn't believe what she saying; the thought of going back to that awful Muggle world made her skin crawl just a bit. But maybe, just maybe, it would Hermione something to latch on to. The girl had so enjoyed being her guide to Muggle-London, after all. A promise had been made and Bellatrix always kept her word. "Just tell me where you want to go, pet and we'll go there. As long as you get better first, hm. No more nonsense about wanting to die. You don't want to die. Your friends don't want you to die. I don't want you to die."
"I can't take this anymore," Hermione sobbed.
A nurse entered the room and approached the two. Still holding on to Hermione, Bellatrix waved at the nurse with one hand to get her to keep her distance. "Pet," she whispered as she gently pushed Hermione down to the bed. "Nurse Ratched is here to give you something to help you sleep. Rest now, pet. I'll be right here."
"Yes," Hermione relaxed visibly as nurse Ratched prepared a syringe with a non-magical sedative. "Forever sleep. Never wake up again. No more pain..."
Revulsion shot through every fiber of Bellatrix's being; during this phase of the withdrawal, Hermione's own body was her worst enemy. Even breathing caused her to endure unbearable agony. Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to shout and scream. Who'd sell horrible stuff like insoma-potions for profit? If Pettigrew hadn't been already dead, Bellatrix would have made him wish he was.
The dark witch sat with her as the nurse administered the treatment; Hermione's breathing grew shallow as she started to fall into a dreamless slumber. Gone was the pained expression, and then she was her own peaceful and gentle self again. 'So cute', Bellatrix smiled to herself, being able to push Hermione's predicament to the back of her mind if only for a moment.
After making sure Hermione was sleeping peacefully, Bellatrix kissed her on the forehead before following the nurse out into the hallway. What she did not expect was to find Potter there; he was sitting on the ground, his knees pressed against his chest. His eyes were red and he shook his head ever so slightly.
"You saw that, hm?" Bellatrix said as she stood in front of him. Immediately, anger took hold of her at the pathetic display in front of her. "Get up," she snapped. "GET UP!"
Not giving Harry the time to respond, the dark witch yanked him to his feet and pushed him into the wall. "Oh, is ickle wittle baby Potter sad? Is ickle wittle baby Potter crying? Well, guess what, you don't get to cry! You need to be strong for Hermione's sake. You can't let her see you like this, especially now!"
She could see from his expression that the boy was seething. Good. Bellatrix laughed inwardly; if she'd ever needed a new job she could probably find work as a tough love therapist. Her harsh words had put some steel in his spine, precisely what the boy had needed.
The two of them stood next to each other, leaning against the wall. "Don't act tough. You're just as upset as I am," said Potter. "You try to hide it, but you're not fooling me."
"Kid, I'm a complete and utter mess," Bellatrix admitted. "If you'd told me a couple of weeks ago I'd come care so much about a mu...glle-born, I'd have laughed in your face."
"Hermione tends to have that effect on people."
"I've noticed. Hey, you're eighteen, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I think both of us could use a whole lot of fire-whiskey right now and the Leaky Cauldron is still open for six whole hours."
Potter nodded. "I'll drink you under the table."
"We'll see about that."
Bellatrix won the bet due to having considerably more drinking experience. Still, it had been rather fun drowning her sorrows with someone else. Misery loved company after all, and Harry had been surprisingly good company.
The next day, Bellatrix went to work with a massive hangover and the Department received another stern letter of complaint from McGonagall. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one to start the day with a massive hangover.
In the third week of treatment, came the hallucinations.
The day started off simple enough and since Hermione had been doing much better the day before, Bellatrix didn't expect all that much trouble. However, when she entered Hermione's room, her heart skipped a beat; the young witch was missing. The bed didn't look as if it had been slept on, but she was both relieved and surprised when a very frightened Hermione popped out from under the bed. "Bellatrix!" she hissed. "Over here! Hurry!"
"Pet?" Bellatrix asked. "Wha..."
"Quickly!" hissed Hermione as she started pulling her underneath the bed. "Come on! Hide!"
And so Bellatrix found herself underneath Hermione's bed while the young witch clutched onto her. "Oh, Bellatrix, I'm so happy you've found me."
"Pet?" Bellatrix asked again. "What's going on here?"
"There's a dementor right above us!" Hermione spoke in hushed, yet panicked whispers.
In spite of herself, Bellatrix craned her neck so she could see past the frame of the bed to look at the ceiling. Of course, nothing but white plaster.
"There's nothing up there, pet," Bellatrix tried to sound as comforting as possible to calm down her young girlfriend, but it had no effect. Hermione was terrified as she held onto the dark witch.
"But it is! It's there! I can feel it. When... when I woke up this morning, it was hovering above me. It was... feeding," Hermione whispered in terror. "It took part of me with it, I feel so empty."
Bellatrix bit her lip. These were all signs of her progressing detox and treatment program. "It wants the rest of me!" Hermione closed her eyes in terror. "It wants the rest of my soul!"
"But there's nothing..."
"Don't look!" Hermione yanked Bellatrix further underneath the bed. "It'll get you too. I don't want it to get you too."
Bellatrix sighed heavily; Miriam Strout had warned her this might be coming; the imaginary dementor was some sort of metaphor Hermione had created in her mind to externalize her addiction, 'her awful experience' as Miriam Strout had put it. Bellatrix was supposed to encourage these fantasies. However, Strout had never mentioned being used as a pillow while lying underneath a bed on a cold and hard concrete floor.
"I'm with you, pet," Bellatrix tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "I'll keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you."
"I tried to cast a patronus to chase it off, but it didn't work," Hermione replied.
"But you don't have a wand," said Bellatrix.
"What are you talking about? It's right here in my hand," said Hermione. Bellatrix checked and noticed that one of Hermione's hands was clenched like a fist, holding something that was not there. "Are you alright? You're acting rather odd."
Bellatrix said and lay a hand on Hermione's head, stroking her hair to soothe her. "Pet. Where do you think we are?"
"What?" Hermione seemed slightly annoyed. "Why, the Forbidden Forest, of course? Where else would we be? The Forbidden Forest is rather distinctive."
"Of course, pet, of course," Bellatrix whispered. "I'll stay with you."
At that moment, the door to the room opened and a second visitor stepped inside. "Hermione?" asked Harry Potter as he looked around the room. "Where are you?"
"HARRY!" Hermione hissed. "Get down here!"
Thankfully, the beds at St. Mungo's were quite large, so a rather flabbergasted Harry ended up lying under the bed right next to Bellatrix and Hermione. "Why are we underneath the bed?" Harry asked.
"Hallucination," Bellatrix whispered at him.
"What do we do now?" he said as he looked at the terrified girl clutching on to Bellatrix.
"Wait till she falls asleep. Shouldn't take long without insoma in her system," Bellatrix whispered. "Then we sneak out quietly."
"Right," Harry replied before shifting uncomfortably. "Ground's a bit hard."
"Oh, my heart bleeds," Bellatrix huffed.
"Still better than standing ankle-deep in owl-shit," Harry shrugged.
Silence followed as the three of them lay next to each other.
"So," started Harry.
"So..." replied Bellatrix.
"Do you follow quidditch?"
"No, I hate sports."
"Well, that's that topic exhausted, then."
"Yep."
"Conversation was easier when we had alcohol and weren't on the floor."
"Again, yep."
"Quiet, you two, or it'll hear us!" Hermione hissed.
"I have to admit, pet," Bellatrix laughed in spite of herself. "My life has gotten lot more interesting since I've met you."
"Bellatrix," Hermione clutched onto her. "Whatever happens, I'll never forget the time we've spent together. Or the night we made love. I won't let that dementor take that from me. I won't!"
"Ahum," said Harry. "Harry is lying right next to you two. Just a friendly reminder."
"Harry would do well to keep his ears shut, then!" Bellatrix snapped.
And so the three of them remained underneath the bed, the Potter boy often shifting around to avoid discomfort. Meanwhile, Hermione was close to drifting off. Being held in Bellatrix's arms gave the girl much needed comfort and the stress had already taken its toll. It would only be a matter of waiting it out, carefully putting the sleeping girl to bed and sneaking away.
That is, until Ronald Weasley came to visit. The red-haired boy stepped onto the room and loudly announced his presence. Both Harry and Bellatrix did their best to try to frantically and silently gesture for Ron to get lost, but it was of no use. The thick Weasley boy knelt down at the bed. "Blimey, what are you lot doing down there?!"
"RON!" a suddenly again wide-awake and panicked Hermione yelled out.
And so four people lay uncomfortably squeezed together underneath the bed, with Hermione lying on top of Bellatrix, waiting for the terrified girl to finally fall asleep. Yes, this was going to be a long day.
"Ow, whose foot is that?"
"Your knee is in my arse, Ron!"
"Argh, which one of you teenage pillocks just copped a feel?"
"That would be Hermione."
"Oh... well, that's alright, then."
A few very uncomfortable minutes later, another disaster in the from of Luna Lovegood followed. The young Ravenclaw knelt by the bed and cocked her head sideways. "Are you hiding from nargles?" she asked.
"LUNA!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron, Harry and Bellatrix let out a simultaneous cry of frustration.
Eventually, Hermione did fall asleep, and, after carefully putting Hermione on the bed and tucking her in, the four of them snuck out of the room, a few bumps and bruises richer. Still, if it meant that Hermione wasn't suffering or in pain, Bellatrix decided she could handle a few bruises.
