Chapter 10
It was Christmas Day and Hermione slipped out of her bed. She had heard her parents' footsteps downstairs already. She had tried to stay in bed as long as she could but now she felt as if she could not leave it any longer. She picked up her dressing gown from the floor, put on her slippers and walked down the stairs. When she opened the living room door she smelled the familiar smell of turkey in the oven. It was as if that smell was what it took to ignite the Christmas feeling inside her. She glanced at the Christmas tree as she made her way through the living room. The pile of presents underneath it was huge, like every year. She stood still for a moment, mesmerized by the beauty of the simple fact of standing there. Hermione mused over her love for Christmas morning before turning around and making her way towards the kitchen and dining area.
"Morning," she greeted her parents, who were both standing in the kitchen. Her mother turned around first and when she saw her daughter Katherine's face lit up. Her hands were covered with grease. She was busy cooking the Christmas dinner and it looked like her father was attempting to help. Hermione knew his cooking skills were even worse than her own. Her father turned around too and he smiled when he found Hermione leaning against the doorframe.
"Merry Christmas darling," Katherine walked over to her daughter and kissed her, whilst trying not to cover her with grease. John followed and hugged Hermione. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment and she cherished the safety she felt. She knew the choice that lay in front of her would mean having to lose this too, depending on what choice she made and that knowledge made her heart ache in her chest. Especially today, especially now. She clutched on to her father just a little bit longer than she normally would and when he let go he looked at her.
"Are you all right dear?" he questioned and now her mother turned around to glance at her too. John saw the look in his daughter's eyes. He could see the troubles flash behind her eyes.
"I...," Hermione hesitated and her eyes shot towards her mother. Her heart cried in her chest. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would never know what actually was happening to her. She then looked at her father again and pulled an apologetic face. He seemed to understand what she was trying to say. "Dad, can I talk to mum for a bit?"
Her dad nodded and smiled. "Of course, dear." He kissed her on her hair and before he shut the kitchen door he turned around. His eyes found those of his daughter and he put on his semi-strict face. "If that boy hurts you make sure you tell me his name."
Hermione sent him a smile before she turned to her mother. She watched how she washed her hands and then Katherine turned around, her eyes curiously resting on her daughter. "I knew there would be a day you would come to me to talk about boy stuff," she said and brushed some hair out of her face. She looked sweaty and there were stains in her shirt. Not much of the cool, pretty Christmas look. She searched her daughter's face. "What is it, dear?"
Hermione averted her eyes and glanced out of the kitchen window. She half and half expected Bellatrix to be leaning against the fence, watching her with one of those amused smiles on her face. "It is not as much of a problem about boys really," she began and looked at her mother. Katherine was leaning against the kitchen top, her hands rested against the cupboard. Her mother was quick to read between the lines and arched an eyebrow as her daughter spoke. "It is more like, let's say you meet someone and it is someone you know you should not like because, well, they are different and you know no one else will agree with you. All your friends, they will not like this person."
Katherine slowly frowned and tried to fit the description her daughter gave her into a picture she could understand "I remember you explaining to me once that Hogwarts has four Houses. You are in Gryffindor and you get on with the other Houses all right. All but Slytherin. So does this mean this person is in Slytherin?"
Hermione bit her lip. She could live with fancying a Slytherin. If anything, that seemed rather easy at this moment in time. This was a whole different cattle of fish. A Death Eater was like a Slytherin but a hundred times worse. She looked at her mother and pulled a face. "Something like that, yeah."
"So it looks like a choice between the one you love and your friends," Katherine concluded and Hermione sighed. The picture was not as clear as that. So much more was at stake. So much more that she could not tell her mother. She could not even begin to explain the whole Black aspect of the story. The fact that her blood seemed to bind her to some dark negotiations with Death Eaters, Lord Voldermort and general anger. It was either that or being disowned, and like pretty much all the other Blacks that were disowned or disinherited, end up miserable or dead. It seemed she had very little choice because whatever choice she made, there was too much to lose. "That is never an easy choice to make, Hermione, and I would say it is unfair too. Your friends should respect your choices and decisions."
Hermione seriously doubted whether they would. She slowly nodded and once again glanced out of the window. There seemed to be no fitting answer to her question. She looked up when her mother took two steps in her direction. She lifted up her daughter's chin and looked her in the eye. "Are you and this person actually seeing each other?"
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat away. She would not call what was happening between her and Bellatrix 'seeing each other'. It was more like trying to destroy each other. She slowly allowed herself to meet her mother's gaze and she pulled a face. "I am not sure what to call it yet, mum. But when it does become something or nothing at all, I will let you know."
Katherine nodded and smiled. "Whatever happens I just want you to be happy, Mione." She kissed her daughter on her forehead and then ran her hand through her curls. She used to do this when Hermione was a little girl and it was always the one thing that brought a smile to her daughter's face. And Hermione did smile when she looked up to her mother. Katherine had noticed how her daughter had avoided being very gender specific and arched an eyebrow. She grinned. "Now are you going to tell me this person's name?"
Hermione headed towards the door and with the doorknob in her hand she turned around. Her heart did flutter when she spoke. She met her mother's eyes across the room and her lips curled up into a smile. "Bella."
She left the kitchen and went upstairs to take a nice long hot shower. The remainder of the day she spent unwrapping her Christmas presents. One of them was something she knew her parents had gone through a lot of effort to get. It was a book about magical History. Hermione knew they had gone to Diagon Alley to find this and she smiled as she flicked through the pages. Other presents included CD's from her favourite bands, a few DVD's, a new pair of jeans, an expensive set of pens, some money and two boxes of chocolates.
After having unwrapped all the presents they sat around the table to enjoy their Christmas dinner. They talked and laughed and pulled Christmas crackers and Hermione asked her parents whether it was all right if she'd spend New Year's at Ron's house. She told them Harry would be there too and that there would be loads of people celebrating. Her parents agreed almost instantly and her father promised he would drop her off but Hermione persuaded him she wanted to go down on the train, which would safe, him a round trip as well. She mainly wanted to go alone for a different reason but she did not tell them she would stop off in London first before going to the Burrow. They had no idea and she was never going to tell them. She would leave the Burrow to return to Hogwarts in January. And in the New Year, making a choice was inevitable.
Hermione sat in the window sill of her bedroom later that night. Her parents were watching a Christmas evening show on TV downstairs. Her feet were resting on a chair and she had wrapped her duvet around herself. Her head rested against the glass. The loneliness of her room was a comfort from the warmth and happiness she had felt downstairs. Whereas it had forced her to change her mind for a while it had felt as if she had been lying to herself and to them. As she sat like this the anger roared inside her again. She was being put in this position. A position she had never chosen to be in but somehow she seemed destined for it. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. They had finally healed but now she made them bleed again.
I hate everything about you and still I cannot resist you Hermione thought as she looked down on the empty road where she lived on. Like any other moment she expected Bellatrix to appear, to find the dark witch looking up at her with those black eyes and that grin. All those people were having happy evenings in their houses with their families and she didn't even know if she had just spent her final Christmas with her parents. How can you make me do these things? How can you possibly control me the way you do? You say that it's me but you are wrong. This is not me. This is not who I am. You have made me this way. You made me hate the reflection in the mirror because I don't know who I am looking at!
A tear slid down her cheek and she briskly brushed it away. She remembered Narcissa standing in the middle of this very room, sitting on her bed and talking to her. Her words had been a warning. Hermione's hazel brown eyes wandered around her room and her heart felt heavy in her chest. The picture of her, Ron and Harry lay next to her in the window sill. She had looked at it only minutes before. She had looked at their faces, relived their memories. She tried not to hear their voices in her head. She tried not to think about anything but her mind told her differently.
~()~
It was the twenty-ninth of December. Ron was not expecting her until the thirtieth but Hermione pulled the front door shut behind her anyway. She had kissed her parents goodbye, promised her mother she would work out whatever was happening with this girl named Bella and promised her dad she would do her homework and would write them soon. She knew she would not be able to keep any of those promises. With an overwhelming sadness she climbed aboard the bus and half an hour later she boarded the train back to London. She parked her trunk by her feet and opened the book her parents had given her for Christmas. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she never got any further than the first few lines. Her hands felt clam and sweaty. The anxious feeling made her feel sick. With every passing minute the feeling increased.
It was early afternoon when she walked down Grimmauld Place and found her way to number twelve. The house appeared; she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. There was nothing but silence that greeted her. The eerie presence of the house overwhelmed her. She left the trunk by the door and walked towards the dining room. She expected to find Bellatrix waiting for her but when she entered the room it was empty. There was no one else here but her. Her heart felt empty and hollow. It was as if something had been ripped out of her.
Hermione turned around and left the dining room. She climbed the staircase to the first floor and wandered through the empty rooms. She didn't know why she had come back here. She didn't even know why she expected Bellatrix to be here. Maybe because she was here the last time her heart brought her here. Maybe because she desperately wanted her to be here. And at the same time, she wanted to hurt her. She wanted to scream at her and tell her how badly it hurt to feel this way.
She clenched her fists and started banging them uncontrollably against the wall. The pain in her hands, fingers and wrists was excruciating and growing with every punch. Her knuckles began to bleed. Drops of blood fell down on the worn out carpet. Hermione was panting and through her tears the room slowly regained its shape. And she swallowed the lump in her throat when she realized the room she was standing in was the room with the Black tapestry on the wall. Unbeknown to herself she had been hitting the burned away picture of her grandfather over and over again. The vague blood spatter around the black spot was a clear sign of that. Hermione briskly shook her head.
"This is all your fault!" she cried, staring at the empty spot on the wall. "I wish I had never been born! I wish I had never been born out of you!" She hit the wall one last time and felt the cracking of her bones. The pain was horrible and it made her instantly feel sick. She dropped to the floor, falling down on her knees and clutched her hand. Tears streamed down her face. Anger, sadness, pain. Her middle finger was bent in an odd position and started to swell up.
"Great," she growled to herself as she carefully inspected her finger. She searched for her wand. She knew the spell to fix broken bones though she had never used it on anyone. Or herself. "Just what I need, broken bones." She found her wand but her hand trembled so badly she could not control it. The pain was sickening. She crawled back up to her feet, still clutching her damaged hand. She continued walking around the house. The rooms were empty. There was nothing in this house that even reminded her of what happened here only a few days ago. And nothing at all had remained behind of the happy times she shared here with her friends. It was just empty silence.
She sat down in one of the big windows in the bedrooms on the second floor. Her tears had stopped falling. The pain in her hand was still there. It was throbbing. She knew she needed to get it fixed but right now it was the last thing on her mind. She looked outside. Grimmauld Place looked like a peaceful road. There were hardly any cars. She understood why the Blacks had liked it here. Even though it was a dark, depressing house there was still something about this place that made her feel almost sheltered.
Suddenly she looked up. The familiar 'crack' downstairs announced the arrival of a second person. She held her breath, almost too afraid that she would betray her presence. She did not dare move. She searched for her wand pulled it from her sleeve. The shuffling sound of footsteps now definitely betrayed the arrival of someone else. As silently as possible Hermione slipped from the window sill... There weren't many people who would come here. It was most likely Bellatrix. But yet there was a small chance it was someone else altogether. With her wand in her undamaged hand she carefully walked to the stairs and looked down over the railing. The floor underneath her was still abandoned and she began making her way down. A few of the steps cracked under her feet. The throbbing of her hand still made her feel sick. She made it down to the first floor and carefully approached the stairs again. When she looked down the railing again she just caught the shadow moving downstairs.
Hermione gasped for air. It was not Bellatrix. It was most definitely not Bellatrix. She swallowed. The lump in her throat had gotten even bigger. The shadow came back and Hermione saw the second person was wearing a cloak. The visitor pulled it down and Hermione immediately recognised the blond hair that belonged to Narcissa. At that same time Narcissa turned around and looked up. She found Hermione looking down at her and her blue eyes lit up.
"My sister told me I would find you here," Narcissa said and began to climb the stairs. Hermione did not move but watched as the blonde woman slowly came closer. Her blue eyes captured Hermione's. A smile lingered on her lips. It was that smile that reminded Hermione once again how much she really did look like her sister. "I would have thought you would not return here but Bella insisted you would. Seems you have made your choice."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She clutched her hand. The pain was only getting worse. Her stomach turned and twisted. She could feel the blood being drawn from her face. Her head became light and her vision blurred. She knew she would pass out soon. Her body was worn out. Her mind was exhausted. The pain was the final straw. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. She felt exhausted. She was tired. Her voice was weak. Only a mere whisper of what she used to be like. "I have made no choice." She did not even believe her own words.
Narcissa cocked her head. "You have. You came back." She grinned. "Like Bella said you would." She suddenly noticed how Hermione became pale. It was as if all the blood was drawn out of the young witch's face. Her hazel brown eyes widened. Her lips were trembling but there was no words coming out. Narcissa hurried up the last few remaining steps, closing the small distance between her and Hermione, and only just reached the girl in time before she collapsed to the floor. She caught the weak and exhausted body in her arms and looked at her. A slight sense of panic overwhelmed Narcissa. Hermione's eyes had fallen shut and she was only barely breathing.
Narcissa reached for Hermione's wand, which had fallen to the floor, and stored it in her sleeve. She lifted her up in her arms; made sure she held her tight and then turned on the spot. With Hermione safely in her arms she left Grimmauld Place and took her back to the only place she knew to be safe. The place where they had first met.
~()~
Hermione slowly opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing. The lights in the room hurt her eyes and she groaned as she pushed herself up in the pillows. As her eyes slowly adapted to the lights she became aware of her surroundings. She lay in a bed, surrounded by dark red velvet pillows. A duvet covered her from the waist down. Slowly she sat up. The room was large and decorated with stylish, Victorian furniture. It was a four poster bed. Against the opposite wall stood a black dresser with a massive mirror above it.
"I see you are awake," spoke a familiar voice from behind her and Hermione turned to look over her shoulder. It was as if Bellatrix had appeared out of her nowhere. Her heart froze at the sight of the woman. Her headache was intense. She did not quite remember how she got here. She did not remember what had happened. Bellatrix walked around the bed and watched Hermione for a few moments. Dark eyes searched the young witch's face. "Welcome back."
"Where am I?" Hermione asked, still feeling rather groggy.
"Where you belong", Bellatrix answered and flicked her hair. She sat down on the end of the bed. The weight change made Hermione even more aware of what happened. She felt weak, vulnerable. She felt the anger in her stomach mixing with her frustration.
Hermione shook her head. "I do not belong here," she stated and attempted to throw the duvet of her before throwing her legs out of the bed and allowing her feet to touch the floor. Her hazel brown eyes snapped up to meet Bellatrix's, who was still sitting on the bed and watched Hermione with an amused smile. "I do not want to be here. Let me go!"
Bellatrix leant in. She licked her lips and Hermione suppressed the urge to just launch at her again and do what she did to her before. "You know you belong here, Hermione. It is your destiny." Her words were not soothing and yet they froze the panic Hermione felt inside. "You are not a prisoner, Hermione. You belong with us and deep inside you know it."
Hermione found her wand on the bed side table and turned to Bellatrix. "I want nothing to do with you! You cannot expect me to choose between my life out there and whatever it is you call life in here. You cannot expect me to choose between you and my family!" Her eyes flickered dangerously. "I am not like you. My soul is not as rotten and tainted like yours." She approached Bellatrix, her face only inches away from hers. "I still feel. I am not dead like you!"
Bellatrix merely smirked. "Are you sure about that, Hermione?" Her voice was a teasing whisper, her dark eyes piercing into Hermione's. She could see the various emotions flash behind her eyes. It was the trigger she needed. "Did you not feel alive when you cast those curses, Hermione? Did you not feel alive; did the power and victory not overwhelm you? Did you not finally feel like you found your answers and the emptiness had finally abandoned you?"
Hermione froze. A cold chill crept up and down her spine. Bellatrix was right. She did feel that way. But that was not the reason why...She shivered and then swallowed. She found her strength back. "You cannot make me choose, Bellatrix. You do not own me!" She pulled away from the dark haired woman sitting on the bed and turned around, heading towards the door. "I want nothing to do you with you ever again! I am not like you!"
Bellatrix chuckled. Hermione turned around. Bellatrix still smiled when their eyes met. Bellatrix felt she had reached the young witch. She leant back on the bed, resting on her hands. Hermione stood with the door handle in her hand. But she did not leave. "You say you are nothing like me, Hermione, and that you want nothing to do with us. You say you will never choose between what runs through in your veins, what is your destiny, or the shallowness of your life like you know it now." Bellatrix studied Hermione's face. "If you really believe you do not belong with me then why did you come back to Grimmauld Place to look for me?"