A/N – Hello, sorry I haven't updated for a while. This chapter isn't really very long but I hope you like it anyway, I'll make the next one longer. I missed out Bellatrix and Hermione's 'chat' because I wanted things to move a bit faster.

Thank you so much for all of your reviews, if I could send things through the internet, I would send you all, erm…a life-sized Bellatrix cardboard cutout?

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Chapter Eleven

Voices whirled around the constricted dungeons, and the echoes of Snape's snarling voice and Lavender's giggles buzzed fiercely in Hermione's ears, causing her to rest her head on the smooth oak surface of her desk. "Longbottom! 10 points from Gryffindor!" Snape roared, shaking his head as Neville's cauldron broke into shards, "alright then you blithering idiots, everybody come over here!" he demanded, sneering at each individual student as they crowded around the desk. "Today we will be looking – I said looking Mr. Goyle, do NOT touch…" Snape glared dangerously at Crabbe and Goyle, smirking slightly when they backed away in fright. "Looking at the 'Amortentia potion', does anybody know anything regarding the effects of this particular potion?" Snape questioned, his eyes scanning the room. Shooting a sideways glance at Hermione, he was surprised to see that, for once, her arms remained firmly crossed. "Miss Granger? Surely you can enlighten us?" he ordered, gesturing towards the cauldron that lay on the desk.

"Well…" Hermione began, ignoring the sneers she got from the other students as she took a step towards the potion, "'Amortentia' is a love potion that causes powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker, it has a different aroma for anyone that smells it - according to what attracts them…" Hermione inhaled deeply as she stood directly before the cauldron, a dreamy smile crossing her face as her eyelashes fluttered shut. Smells that seemed strongly familiar to her floated around, and Hermione sighed happily - lost in her own world as the aroma of fresh coffee, perfume, ground spices and other unique scents drifted into her nostrils. Then, the sound of the lid being snapped firmly back onto the cauldron brought Hermione back to reality, and she blushed as she hurried away from the highly infectious potion. "Quite" Snape agreed, looking somewhat amused "however, we will NOT be making this particular potion today" he informed them "it is a very advanced process and I don't feel that some of you are… academic enough to make it - well, not without blowing something up first" Snape finished, staring at Neville pointedly.

~o~O~o~

A while later, Hermione silently chewed her food as she stared fiercely at her plate, vaguely listening to Dean chatter on about football. Then, her hazel eyes widened as she felt a soft object hit her lower back, and she spun around to see a scrunched up ball of paper lying on the stone floor. Picking it up with reluctance and distaste, she smoothed the wrinkled paper out and let her eyes rake over the sprawling, black ink.

I really do have an excellent aim, don't I? I'm quite good at throwing things, Cissy and I used to practice throwing knives at house-elves and– oh bloody hell, I forgot that you liked house-elves. Well, forget I said that, I've heard that I can be quite tactless at times.

Weasley's eyes are burning into your forehead right now. Did you know that? Well, you do now anyway – and if looks could kill, you'd certainly be dead. Anyway, you don't look like your 'getting on like a house on fire'. Remember that time I really did set her house on fire? Funny, wasn't it? I'm sorry, but who the hell names their house 'The Burrow'? Don't rabbits live in Burrows? Ask her where Weasels live – go on, I'd laugh! (Although your table looks like a right bunch of miserable sods), you should sit on the Slytherin table and torment my dear nephew. That would be funny, is it true that he got transfigured into a ferret once? I could transfigure Weasley into a weasel if you like…sorry, what was the point of this letter again?

Oh yes, don't eat in the Great Hall tonight – Albus has invited himself for a 'delightful dinner with Bellatrix and Hermione in their quarters'…

On second thoughts, perhaps we could just kill ourselves – how about that, a joint suicide? Sound good? Or, maybe we could steal his lemon drops? Cut off his beard whilst he's sleeping? Lock him in a room with an army of dementors?

Dementors aren't that bad actually – misunderstood creatures, so what if they suck the soul out of people? So does Albus's endless conversation.

Merlin, I can go on, can't I? Perhaps I should co-write with Rita Skeeter. Have you ever met her? I think we should set her up on a blind date with Snape -the greasy git is trying to see what I'm writing…oh, he just called me childish. Apparently if you stick your tongue out and shield your secret writing paper it makes you childish. I'm going to go now; McGonagall is giving me that suspicious, beady-eyed, I-know-your-doing-something-you-shouldn't-be, type of look.

Bellatrix.

P.S – Dumbledore's bringing the dessert.