Note: Hey guys, I am back from my holiday and managed to write this update for you all. I hope you guys are allright after the long wait. My apologies.


Chapter 9

Narcissa watched from the doorway as Hermione fell down to her knees beside the toilet bowl for a second time and heaved. The sound of her stomach emptying herself cut through her life a knife and the blonde witch turned her head away, sadness reflecting in her blue eyes. She forced herself to look back once the horrific sound had stopped and Hermione still sat on her knees, her arms draped across the porcelain bowl and her head resting against it. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.

"You didn't know," Narcissa said softly when after a few minutes Hermione finally moved.

The brunette looked pale and it seemed as if she had suddenly aged beyond her time. Hermione lifted up her head enough to look at the older woman standing in the doorway of her bathroom. She didn't care that she looked like some pathetic heap of shit. She didn't even care that Narcissa had seen her in this fragile state. In fact, she didn't care about anything at all anymore.

"No." Her voice trembled and she pulled back her sleeve. The silver scars on her forearm spelled out the word mudblood in an almost childlike handwriting. "I remember this."

Narcissa flinched. The night at Malfoy Manor was one of the many memories from the way that haunted her till this very day. "I do too."

"Do you really think that if I had known that woman was Bellatrix, I would have slept with her?!"

"My sister always had her ways of intoxicating people," Narcissa answered. Her eyes met Hermione's. "Even those who despised her."

"This is the woman who killed Sirius!" Hermione spat and struggled to get back onto her feet. "The woman who tortured Neville's parents into insanity. The only person not to leave Azkaban having lost their mind because she had lost hers long before she even went in." She turned to look at herself in the mirror and felt sickened by her own reflection. "I watched Molly Weasley kill her."

"You watched Molly Weasley kill the woman Bellatrix was until that day."

Slowly Hermione turned around. "You're saying there's a difference?"

"Bellatrix must have made her deal with Death sometime during that Battle," Narcissa said softly. "Do you remember Kingsley telling us where the Book was found?"

"The Forbidden Forest."

"We were there," Narcissa said. "Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. You know we were there."

Hermione took a step towards Narcissa. "Is that when you knew?"

The blonde witch blinked. "What?"

"When Kingsley said the Book had been found in the Forbidden Forest, was that when you knew that Bellatrix had used the spell?" Hermione asked and she watched how an unexpected emotion crept into Narcissa's eyes. Never before had she seen remorse or guilt etched across someone's face in such a way. "You did, didn't you? You knew Bellatrix had done something but you didn't know what…"

"When I came to claim her body, there wasn't one," Narcissa said softly. "The Ministry insisted they hadn't cremated her or thrown her into a mass grave with the other Death Eaters. I didn't believe them at first but Kingsley gave me his word. I then just assumed that someone had taken her body and destroyed it anyway." She peered up at Hermione through her eyelashes. "My sister was hated by many people."

"You don't say."

Narcissa heaved a sigh. "After a few weeks I began to suspect she wasn't dead. Or at least, not in the way people thought she was."

"Why?"

When Narcissa didn't answer Hermione closed the distance between them and grabbed the older woman's upper arms. The grip was firm and tight and both women knew that it would leave bruises by morning. Hermione released her hold but Narcissa didn't step away. Instead Narcissa's blue eyes pierced into Hermione's hazel ones and the soft features of her face hardened.

"Three weeks after the Final Battle, a single red rose arrived."

Hermione frowned. "What's so special about that?"

"In all the years we were married, Lucius never sent me flowers. Besides, he was locked up in Azkaban. There was only one person who ever sent me roses. Once a year, on my birthday. A single red rose every time. Nobody knew about it."

"Bellatrix."

Narcissa nodded. "That's when I understood something happened. Something that shouldn't have happened. I tried looking into what she could have done but I never found what I was looking for. Until Kingsley told me about the Book."

"Is that why I saw you that night?" Hermione asked. "At Imagine. Was that why you were there?"

"Yes," Narcissa answered. "Imagine has long been a place where those who do not want to be seen or found to go to, shall we say, enjoy themselves. It opened in the months leading up to the Battle. There was one rule: you don't ask questions. When you step inside, everything you are just disappears. Even those who hate each other look into each other's eyes but behind a mask, everyone's a stranger." She sighed. "If there is one place you go when you can't show your face but you still want to be part of the living world somehow, Imagine is the place to go."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. She remembered her first visit to Imagine. The aching desire between her legs when she first laid eyes on the dark haired stranger. Never before had just a single glance stirred such feelings inside of her. The knowledge that those charcoal eyes belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange now sickened her but at the same time it did nothing to erase those very first feelings. When her eyes opened again they had darkened a little and when she looked up at Narcissa she knew that she could tell.

The blonde witch cocked her head. "It hasn't changed anything for you, has it?"

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Something lured you out there that night. That same something kept begging you to come back." Narcissa's voice dropped down to a whisper and suddenly her breath was warm against Hermione's cheek. She moved closer until her body was pressed against Hermione's and she felt the heat radiate from her skin. "Something in those shadows brought you back again and again. My sister trapped you, stirred something inside of you…" Dark red lips were close to Hermione's ear. "Nothing's changed."

"No!" Hermione snapped and pushed Narcissa away from her. "You have no right to talk to me that way!"

The older witch grinned almost deviously. "Oh, but I do, Miss Granger. I saw the way you looked at her tonight. You can't deny what lives inside you."

"Get out!" Hermione hissed and her hand shot down to her wand. She yanked it out of her pocket and forced it into Narcissa's chest. "Get the hell out of my house and I swear to God, if I ever see you anywhere near me again, I'll kill you."

"You won't," Narcissa taunted her but she stepped backwards nevertheless.

She backed out further until she was halfway across the hall and turned around. She walked through the living room and didn't look back over her shoulder until she was about to step out of the front door. Hermione stood in the middle of the living room, wand drawn and eyes blazing. She watched as the blonde witch stepped outside into the night and disappeared. The sound of the door slamming behind her was deafening but then, after a few seconds, there was only silence.

Hermione let out a harrowing cry of pain, anger and frustration as she picked up a book and threw it across the room. It crashed into the wall, shattering one of the picture frames. The glass broke and shattered across the floor. She then dropped to the ground, her knees unable to support her weight any longer, and angry tears lashed across her cheeks. She cried like she had never cried before.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had fucked Bellatrix Lestrange.

She'd allowed that lunatic, that monster, into her mind, into her pants, into her body. She'd allowed that devious woman to see her in a way nobody, not even Ron, had seen her. She had given into her hunger, her sickening desire, to have sex with a complete stranger. A stranger who turned out not to be a stranger at all. She had fallen into something that now slowly destroyed her from the inside out and Narcissa Black had known about it all along.

Hermione's head snapped up and suddenly the tears that had been burning behind her eyes stopped. She stood back up, grabbed her wand off the floor and stormed out of the door. It was still raining outside and the drops seeped behind her clothes and plastered her hair across her forehead. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran along the wet streets until she reached a quiet side road. She turned on the spot, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she reappeared halfway across town she was struck by how crowded it was. Blue and red flashing lights from police cars illuminated the London night, cutting through the darkness life knives. Uniformed officers inspected the broken windows with flashlights, took statements of onlookers and one officer released a dog that started sniffing along the buildings.

From where she stood, protected by the shadows of the alley, Hermione could see that the windows of Imagine were dark. The door was closed. There was no guard outside. The yellow streetlights only illuminated the faces of Muggles unfortunate enough to have wandered these streets shortly after the explosions that shattered the windows. A small crowd had formed behind the blue and white police tape that cordoned off the crime scene.

Hermione sighed in frustration and threw herself against the alley wall. Her plan to go back to Imagine and look for Bellatrix had been ruined. From the outside the building now looked like any other. Neglected and forlorn, as if nobody ever came here. She cast one look at the scene outside the bar before starting down the dark alley, her hand on her wand. The sound of her footsteps sounded hollow as in the distance the sound of thunder rumbled in the sky.

She didn't know why she had come back here, only that she had to. She needed to see, needed to know. She had to find an answer somehow, although she didn't quite know the question. Even now, with all the anger simmering underneath her skin, the desire still burnt deep inside her. A flame still flickered, slowly eating away at her, with the potential to cause a devastating fire she knew she would never be able to control.

She froze when she saw the outline of a figure through the heavy rain. On the other side of the alley, briefly lit up by the headlights of a passing taxi, stood a slender figure dressed in black. Even from where she was standing Hermione recognised the glimmer of light reflecting in the silver mask. She increased her pace, her hands clenched into fists. The rain splashed into her face, her eyes, but she kept walking. She was only a few steps away when the masked stranger vanished.

Hermione increased her pace and turned the corner. The street was abandoned apart from a few parked cars. Across the road lay the entrance to a small park. The gate was open and moved slightly. It had only recently been touched. Hermione ran across the street, kicked against the gate and stepped into the park. The trees were tall, hiding almost all of the lights from the few streetlamps. A park bench to her right, two more to her left. The heavy wind rustled the leaves and branches.

From the corner of her eye she spotted movement and turned, her wand now drawn, and her breath chocked in the back of her throat when from behind the large oak tree, the masked stranger appeared. It was only now that she laid eyes on her with new knowledge for the first time that Hermione immediately recognised Bellatrix Lestrange. To her surprise her heart didn't break. It cried.

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione swallowed. "You know who I am," she said slowly and lowered her wand. "You have known ever since the beginning, I know you have." She took a step closer. The only thing separating them now was the park bench. Their eyes found each other. "I know who you are."

"What?!"

"I know who you are," Hermione said and felt a tear slide down her cheek. "And I still came back for you."