A/N: Sorry my writing isn't the best with these chapters. I'm in the process of starting to move home so I am under a lot of stress. It'll get better and eventually, I'll get round to rewriting it. Just stay with me on this, okay? xD
— — —
Hermione hadn't quite recovered from the previous encounter with Bellatrix. Bella, on the other hand, simply went about her life like it had never happened. Although every now and then, Hermione would catch her glancing in her direction the same way she had when they'd hugged, eyes so gentle and kind, but it would be gone in the time it took her to blink and she'd be left to question if it had ever been there at all.
It took them the rest of the day to start talking to each other again, since they had to converse about what would be eaten for dinner, and Hermione had attempted to make conversation by asking Bellatrix about how they intended to travel.
Much to Bellatrix's disliking, they had agreed on muggle transport, simply due to the fact that they were less likely to be spotted and– to Hermione's surprise– Bellatrix had the muggle money to pay for it. Bellatrix had said that she had a friend who could get them the buyer's address and leaflets on train and bus times, then a silence had fallen as they finished their food.
It was only once both their plates were clear that Hermione had carefully approached the matter of Bellatrix's style of dress. She had gingerly suggested that Bellatrix would be better off in some muggle clothing if they were to blend in, but the dark witch had not taken it well.
"You want me to wear what?" she'd said indignantly.
"Jeans," Hermione had said again, avoiding the piercing eyes that were burning holes into her head.
Bellatrix had almost thrown her fork at the Gryffindor. She was not wearing a pair of jeans and what those muggles called a hoodie. She refused, getting up and storming up to her bedroom.
Hermione had sighed, looking down at the jeans and shirt that she was wearing. Tilly had been very accommodating towards her choice of clothing and, when Bellatrix had made her go shopping every day for Hermione, the elf had never once come back with something that Hermione could point-blank refuse to wear.
If she was honest, she liked her new clothes. They weren't always the most comfortable of things– there was a shirt that Hermione had worn that she had found horrifically itchy– but some items she could sleep in like a baby.
Despite the fact that she had not bought Hermione corsets and dresses, all her clothes barring her dark red robe were black, white or grey. This didn't surprise her and nor did it particularly bother her.
When Bellatrix finally emerged again, she had her arms folded grumpily across her chest and she wore a deep, childish frown. She was wearing jeans and a shirt, her robe thrown on over the top, and Hermione smiled happily at the Death Eater.
"They suit you."
"If you ever speak of this to anyone, I'll skin you like I'll skin that ginger cat of yours if it sheds fur on my furniture."
It was still a mystery to Hermione as to how her cat managed to get to the safehouse, but she had more pressing matters to deal with at present, so she hadn't given much thought to it.
"If you're ready," Bellatrix wrapped her robe around her small form and Hermione noticed that she somehow seemed smaller without her corset and all that black lace, "then I can take us now."
Hermione glanced at the time and then agreed. She went to pet Crookshanks and told him that they'd be back later before stepping towards Bellatrix.
— — —
Rural Sussex, Hermione found, was rather pretty with a sunset in the background. There were miles of open fields and land, sectioned off by fences or hedges. However, Bellatrix spent her time scowling at the brunette or the landscape that surrounded them.
As they stepped off the bus, Bellatrix wandlessly hexed a small fly that got too close to her face. With a zap of blue light, it dropped lightly to the ground.
A small village was waiting for them ahead, in which they were going to find their first buyer. Her name was Kimberly Jenkins and she lived in a cottage in the upper part of the village. Hermione was not looking forward to questioning the woman. It went against everything in her nature to do this, to use potions like Veritaserum on someone or to interrogate them when there's a decent chance they may be innocent, but she wanted to find Harry's killer and so did Bellatrix.
So, instead of moping, she squared her shoulders and started walking through the village, passing small grocery shops and tiny newsagents as they headed up the hill.
Bellatrix was in an odd mood. While she acted nothing but bluntly towards Hermione now, she often struggled to tear her eyes from the brunette or to focus her attention on the job at hand when Hermione walked too close, or when she brushed past her at any given moment. It left the dark witch in a daze.
The two women had both been so wrapped up in their own thoughts that they walked past the house, only to retrace their steps when they realised their mistake.
Kimberly's cottage was small and a poorly paved path lead off the road to a small driveway housing a small silver car. The main entrance to the cottage consisted of a small metal archway supporting a variety of different vines and flowers, which Hermione liked, and a black painted front door.
Bellatrix lifted her wand to cast a spell– most likely to knock the door off its hinges– but Hermione placed a hand over the dark witch's wand and gently pushed it down so it was facing the floor.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said, no," Hermione glanced to the side at Bellatrix's unamused expression and matched it. "Follow my lead."
Hermione knocked and ruffled her hair slightly. It took another knock but, when a slim blonde woman in her twenties finally opened the door, Hermione just burst out crying.
"I'm sorry, I… We didn't know where else to go. My sister and I, we- we're lost!"
Bellatrix had to admit it was a good show, but the woman in front of them obviously recognised them and she didn't seem to be buying into the brunette's act. Impatiently, she all but shoved Hermione to the side and waved her wand in the blonde woman's face without a word.
The woman paused, mouth closing when she decided that whatever she was going to say was irrelevant now, and she looked to Bellatrix with empty eyes.
"Let us in," Bellatrix demanded, then reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a vial of Veritaserum, "and drink this."
The woman stepped aside, allowing them inside, before downing the potion and closing the door behind her.
The cottage opened up into a sitting room and kitchen area, which housed a couple of sofas, a small two person dining table and a rectangular coffee table. The floors were old and wooden and the off-white walls had faded cream floral patterns on them; it reminded Hermione of her grandparents' old house.
"Bellatrix!" Hermione scolded, looking at the woman who was staring adoringly at the dark witch.
"It worked, did it not?" Bella smirked as she took a seat on one of the sofas. "Come, sit. We need to ask you some questions."
After being addressed, the woman did as Bellatrix said. As she took her seat, whatever spell Bellatrix had used faded and the woman looked confused as she sat before the two very different witches. Her eyes filled with fear as she glanced at Bellatrix and they were almost pleading when she looked to Hermione.
"It's okay, we won't hurt you," Hermione said reassuringly, not helped by Bellatrix grinning wildly next to her.
"So long as you answer us," Bellatrix let out a small cackle, leaning forward towards the scared blonde woman. "You're Kimberly Jenkins?"
"Yes," the woman croaked out, her eyes filling with tears of fear as she looked at Bellatrix.
Hermione felt so sorry for her. She didn't know people would have this reaction to Bellatrix. Of course, when she had first faced the dark witch, she had been scared, but she had also been too brave to show it, too stubborn. There had been too many important things at stake for Hermione be outwardly scared by the Death Eater, so she'd just had to duel the older woman and Voldemort's other followers. Somewhere in the madness, she'd stopped being scared.
Now, Bellatrix's moods perplexed her on more occasions than they scared her.
"And am I correct in assuming that you buy Yellow Peril from Carter?" Bellatrix's voice was light, almost airy, which surprisingly made her more intimidating as she twiddled her wand in her fingertips.
"Yes," Kimberly nodded.
"What do you use it for?" Bellatrix held the blonde with a intense and unwavering gaze, fingers suddenly still on her wand.
"Medicinal uses," Kimberly hurried out the answer, tears now falling from her eyes, "I don't sleep well and it slows the heart rate and breathing. In small doses it can be used as a sedative. Please don't kill me, I'm begging you, don't kill me."
Bellatrix ignored her crying and begging, jumping to the next question. "So you're telling me you didn't use the flower to create a potion to kill Harry Potter?"
"Of course not," Kimberly fell down from the sofa onto her knees, "you have to believe me, please! I have children, a family, please don't kill me. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me…"
Hermione stood and took the woman's arm by her elbow, helping her up so she was standing. "We're not going to kill you. We won't hurt you. We just wanted you to answer those questions."
Despite nodding at Hermione, Kimberly glanced uneasily back at Bellatrix who grinned widely at her.
"You know who I am don't you?" Hermione didn't let go of the blonde's arm. She was shaking so much, the brunette feared she might fall to her knees again if she did.
"You're that Granger girl, the one who helped Harry Potter before he died. I saw you in the papers. They said you dated him. I'm sorry for your loss."
Hermione could feel Bellatrix's eyes on her back and predicted the cackle before it came. She ignored it.
"I am. You can trust me, you're going to be okay."
"Muddy, stop coddling her. We're going now," Bellatrix drawled, "unless you want to make love to her, as well?"
With a small smile in the woman's direction, Hermione let go of her and turned to Bellatrix, who was already holding the front door open for her.
"What are we going to do about her? She knows we were here," she passed Bellatrix, waiting in the doorway for the Death Eater to follow her out.
But she didn't, she turned to the shaky blonde girl on the sofa and aimed her wand wordlessly, Hermione half expected the green light to shoot from the wand, but instead just the silvery light of an Obliviate lit up its tip and the woman looked drowsily down at her carpet, only snapping her head up when Bellatrix and Hermione were long gone, the door closed behind them.
— — —
They had apparated back to Bellatrix's safehouse that night. Upon popping up in the sitting room, Crookshanks had greeted Hermione by rubbing his ears on her legs. Bellatrix had not greeted the cat, instead greeting the firewhisky that was waiting for her on the dining table by grabbing the bottle's neck and popping the stopper off, pouring herself a generous glass.
"These elves know me," she smirked into the tumbler.
Hermione watched as Bellatrix shed her robe and removed her shirt, leaving her in her bra and the jeans she had worn that day. Hermione's breathing hitched as she admired the older woman and then felt a mild pang of disappointment when Bella flicked her fingers and was suddenly holding her black silk gown. She slipped it on, then slipped her jeans off from underneath and threw them happily into a pile with the shirt before slouching into her armchair with her glass of firewhisky.
Hermione's eyes hadn't left the dark witch and it was only now that Bellatrix noticed it, raising an eyebrow. "See something you like?"
Hermione hurriedly turned back to the fireplace she was sitting by, busying herself with stroking the part-Kneazle cat in her lap. "No."
Bellatrix chuckled, crossing her legs, the gown falling in such a way that exposed her thighs and a small portion of the black underwear she was wearing.
Hermione's eyes wandered again. Honestly, she had never thought of the possibility that she might be into women, but as her eyes drank in the sight of Bellatrix's legs under the silk gown, she began to reconsider.
Again, Bellatrix caught her looking. "What's wrong with you today? You keep looking at me like…"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm a puppy that disappointed you," Bellatrix got up and went to refill her glass of firewhisky, which she had apparently already drank the most of. "It's as if you're asking to be slapped."
Hermione forced herself to look down at Crookshanks, frowning. She didn't know where to begin explaining that she was not disappointed in Bellatrix, but in herself for finding Bellatrix attractive.
When Bellatrix returned from the dining table, she held out a second glass of firewhisky to Hermione and the young witch laughed. "No, thank you."
"You don't drink?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sixteen."
"So? Come, muddy, don't be so boring. Have a drink."
Hermione shook her head, meeting Bella's eyes. "I don't want to drink. I'm fine as I am."
A sly smile twisted Bellatrix's lips and she tilted her head to one side. "You know I could make you drink it?"
"You could probably make me do a lot of things," Hermione said without thinking. Then, realising how that might've come across, she diverted the conversation. "That was some good spell work earlier. Not an Imperius Curse, but something similar."
Bellatrix nodded. "Just a little something the Dark Lord taught me."
Hermione watched as Bellatrix downed the glass she'd poured for her and threw it behind her. Before it could hit the bookshelf, however, it vanished.
For the next couple of hours, until about 2am, Hermione sat down with travel leaflets and planned their next journey while Bellatrix made her way to the bottom of her bottle of whiskey. Unsurprisingly, the alcohol didn't take much– if any– toll on her, and Hermione could only imagine what an entire bottle of firewhisky would have done to a normal person. Instead of being on the floor like she should be, the dark witch was simply tipsy.
They hadn't said much beyond Hermione suggesting a timing and a hotel and Bellatrix grumbling in disagreement or nodding in agreement.
When Hermione had circled their timings with a pen– a muggle one, which Bellatrix had found quite fascinating– she stacked the leaflets up into a pile and put them on the dining table. Turning around, she was about to announce that she was going to bed but Bellatrix was right in front of her, mere millimetres from her face.
The look on Bellatrix's face was verging on suggestive as she reached on her tiptoes and leaned over Hermione to put her empty bottle of firewhisky on the table. Their bodies touched as they did and Hermione flinched involuntarily.
"Jumpy," Bellatrix commented.
Hermione hid her face, which she'd felt flush bright red. "I'm fine."
Bellatrix grinned wickedly, voice light and playful. "Don't you think you ought to be going to bed? Big day tomorrow, and all."
"I'm not a child," Hermione grumbled, leaving out the fact that she planned to go to bed now anyway. She would stay up all night if it meant proving Bellatrix wrong. Whether that made her very brave or very stupid, the Gryffindor didn't know.
"But you are," Bellatrix sighed airily, "so off with you, mudblood."
"What are you going to do?" Hermione sneered bitterly. "Brood on top of the bookshelf again?"
Bella's eyes went from sparkly and mischievous to dark and murderous in a second, making Hermione regret her words immediately. Without another word, all under Bellatrix's heavy gaze, Hermione left the room and headed upstairs to her bedroom.
— — —
The cold air of the early morning through her window was the one thing that finally woke Hermione up. She drowsily accepted breakfast at 5am from Tilly after only a few hours sleep, although Bellatrix was nowhere to be seen. When she finished her food, she pulled up a chair and checked on top of the bookshelf to see a snake with a black back and silvery sides, the black coming down in an arrow down its face and blending into a dark silvery grey around the nose.
"Bellatrix?" Hermione said, but the snake didn't stir. "Bella?"
Nothing.
Hermione lightly tapped her fingers on the top of the bookshelf and one of the snake's eyes flicked towards the source of the noise. It was rather scary, Hermione found, being looked at by a snake that you knew was a convicted murder.
"Bellatrix, you need to get up and have breakfast or we won't make our train."
With a huff– which Hermione found out the snake could pull off quite well– Bellatrix's body uncoiled and Hermione thought that she would somehow slide off the edge, but instead the snake wound itself around Hermione's shoulders and whispered something in Parseltongue into her ear.
"You… you want me to get down?" Hermione had not understood, but she had taken a guess. Harry had been a Parseltongue and, according to Ron, used to mutter it in his sleep a lot. Ron used to tell her about it and try to mimic what he had been able to understand from the English Harry had muttered alongside it.
The snake's head nodded next to hers and carefully, she lowered herself onto the ground from her chair with the reptile around her neck.
Fuck, she's heavy, Hermione thought, although not nearly as heavy as she would have imagined.
Once safely on the floor, the snake coiled into a tight roll again before morphing into Bellatrix's human form. She smirked, wearing the same clothes as yesterday– which Hermione had to bite her tongue to not comment on– with her robe thrown over the top, and looked Hermione up and down.
Hermione was only half dressed. She had jeans on but her shirt and robe were upstairs, so she had her silk gown on over the top.
"Perhaps I should keep you around just to lift me up and down from that shelf," Bellatrix mused.
"Perhaps you shouldn't assume I speak snake. It was a lucky guess."
Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should learn."
"I can't learn to speak it, it's hereditary and I'm muggleborn. I don't stand a chance."
"Your pathetic old Headmaster could understand it, there's no reason why you can't, too."
"But it's–" Hermione tried to say.
"Possible," Bellatrix grinned charmingly, her good mood making Hermione narrow her eyes in suspicion. "Go and get dressed, muddy," she said, then added pointedly, "or we won't make our train."
