Hermione stared at the ceiling without seeing what was really there. From down the hall she could hear the usual sounds of destruction. She refused to bandage the mad woman up this time though.
Hermione tossed onto her side.
Bellatrix had been so gentle and sincere in those moments after she had calmed down. And there was no way she could have faked all the reactions to Hermione's somewhat inexperienced touch. Had she done it on purpose? To throw Hermione off and destroy everything she had been working towards? Had she done this for revenge?
Hermione turned restlessly to her other side.
No. She had been faking everything. The dark witch was twisted and sick in the head; she had been ruined by Voldemort and possibly before that even. There was no way that tenderness had been real. Hermione was simply lonely and desperate for any form of contact that wasn't platonic.
Hermione lay on her back once more.
I will wake up tomorrow and pretend nothing happened, she told herself sternly.
Right before she fell asleep, that same traitorous voice made a reappearance.
But how could you ever forget?
Bellatrix stood frozen outside the bedroom she had left only hours before. Her hands were a complete mess and she was dripping blood everywhere. But she couldn't get the door open. She stood staring at the dark wood and strained to hear any sound from within. Finally growling in frustration she turned away to go back to her own bedroom and face the mess she had made. As she stepped away she heard Hermione call her name. Her voice was panicked and shrill, as if she were in danger and calling for help. She often called out in her sleep, but never had it sounded so desperate. She called again and Bellatrix burst through the doors. Hermione was thrashing about on her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. She whimpered and for a final time, called Bellatrix' name. Bellatrix hurried to the bed, concern etching her face into an expression she hadn't worn since she had been a child and her youngest sister had been climbing too high up a tree in their estates grounds. Hermione curled into a ball and her eyes fluttered open. She started when she saw the dark woman watching her.
"Bellatrix! What are you doing here?" she cried sleepily, wiping her eyes and pulling herself upright. Suddenly her expression changed back into one of anger and hurt.
"I thought I told you to get out."
Without answering Bellatrix held out her wounded hands and stared into the dark brown eyes she had been drowning in only hours before.
She would never get enough of those eyes.
Hermione eyed her warily before sighing and reaching to her bedside table for her wand. Muttering spells she cleaned away the blood and damage before releasing Bellatrix' scarred hands back to her.
"Now go back to bed before I curse you there myself," Hermione grumbled turning her back on the witch and pulling the duvet up around her face. There was only silence in the room as Bellatrix watched her.
"I'm sorry about your scar," Bellatrix said suddenly, so quietly Hermione wasn't sure she had heard right.
"What?" she yelped turning back to the witch – but Bellatrix was already out the door and in her own bedroom, alone with her demons once more.