Story: When Everything Changed

Summary: Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

Rated: M

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren't showing up.

A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.

A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.

"To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage; because we don't want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt." - Madonna
_

Bellatrix's POV

The creaking of the cell door echoes in the empty chamber. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and hope my visitor is not whom I think it is. I can't have Hermione here, and I constantly wish for her to forgive and forget me. It is the only way for her to move on. For her to be happy. At the same time I want nothing more than for it to be Hermione entering this cell. With naïve promises of love and freedom.

I don't think I can handle seeing her again. I won't survive the emotions if Hermione leaves me one more time. I will drown in them until my lungs burn with the unspoken words and subtle hints. With memories and sensations. She will be the end of me.

The footsteps are familiar, but are too heavy to be Hermione's. Disappointment wells inside of me. I don't bother to turn and face my visitor. I cannot be bothered by those I do not care about. " Madame Lestrange," says a deep, male voice.

"Shacklebolt," I reply quietly. Venom is useless. Disdain pointless. I have no upper hand. I do not believe myself to be any better than this man.

"I have an intriguing story for you Madame Lestrange."

"Really?" I ask in a bored tone. "Do tell."

"I had a young woman come into my office a month ago. I believe you know her well; Miss Granger?" I shift uncomfortably and stare down at my fidgety hands. "She was convinced you have changed. Why do you suppose that could be?"

I shrug and turn toward him, not yet meeting his eyes. "Maybe she is losing it." I flick my eyes up and lock them with his. I hold his probing gaze and refuse to back down.

"Is that so? Nice cloak. Where'd you get it?" I tug the garment that is draped over my shoulders tighter around myself.

Sometimes I can still catch Hermione's lingering scent on the fabric. The smell is soothing and welcomed. "It's Hermione's." I don't have to see his expression to hear the gears rapidly turning in his mind.

"It is amazing how much she appears to care for you. One can only wonder if…"

"If what Shacklebolt?" I am sure that he can hear the warning in my tone.

"Never mind. It can't possibly be…" I know what he wants to say; it can't possibly be that Bellatrix Lestrange cares for anyone other than herself. Sometimes I still believe that too.

I meet the eyes that have not left me since their owner's arrival. The next words slip from my lips before I can stop them, "How is she?" A genuine smile spreads across Shacklebolt's face.

"Maybe it is possible that the snake can feel affection for an owl. The owl is one of the snake's only predators, you know. I haven't talked to her in a while, but when I've seen Hermione lately, in passing, she has looked tired and withdrawn."

Closing my eyes Hermione's smiling face appears. It is quickly pushed aside by an image of Hermione that is far less comforting. Then my freshest memory of her descends upon my musings. At the time I had not noticed how much older she appeared. I had been too shocked by the fact that Hermione was actually standing in front of me. I hadn't seen the hints of exhaustion on her usually perfect features. My head slams into the stone wall. Eyes remaining shut I ask, "Does Hermione know you're here?" My voice comes our quietly. It is rougher with emotion than I would have preferred.

"No." Shacklebolt's voice has changed. I no longer can hear the clipped, harsh tones. Dare I say, he almost sounds kind?

"Hopefully you're planning on keeping it that way."

"I am." He stands and I realize he intends to leave. My arm darts out, hand catching his wrist, as my eyes snap open. He gazes at me and I can see the confusion and wariness in his eyes.

I return his gaze with a pleading stare of my own. I don't care how desperate or vulnerable I look at the moment. I only have one thought on my mind and I am determined to have it voiced, "Don't let Hermione come back here."

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me. "What makes you think I have any power over her? Hermione is unusually stubborn."

"Please," It is no more than a whisper, but by the shock that settles on his face I know that I have said the one word I have vowed never to use with those I do not hold close to my heart.

"I will try, Madame Lestrange. This visit was much more pleasant than I had anticipated it to be."

"Next time call me Bellatrix." It's odd how much I loathe the title I have held for years.

"Yes well, goodbye Bellatrix."

"Minister," I nod in his direction and stand as he leaves the cell. I walk to the barred window and stare at the vicious sea below

I can hear Shacklebolt's deep soothing tones outside of my cage. Suddenly the frigid air retreats providing me with a slight amount of relief. I can sense the presence of fear and death has not deserted me. It is only waiting to strike; waiting, until there are no longer viable witnesses to testify to my torture. Wrapping my fingers around the icy bars of the window they burn my skin as the outside air nips at my presented skin.

Never have I regretted my actions more than I do right now.

**
My eyes snap open as a rough, unfamiliar voice scrapes through my dreams and into my conscious. I am yanked off the hard, stone bed and barley manage to grab Hermione's cloak before I am pushed in front of the man. "Where are we going?" I say in a voice dripping with disdain and anger.

"You'll see." I struggle to keep my footing as we walk through the halls of Azkaban. Faces peer through bars. I hear gasps and mumbling at the sight of me. I see sneers and fear, but the worst of what I see is in those who have no reaction. Because it is from them that the insanity filled laughter emits. It is from them I receive the blank stares and see the shaking, frail frames. They are what once again sparks the voice in my head that says, that could be you. There is a fine line between the sane and the insane.

The old wooden doors are opened by a set of invisible hands to reveal and ominous, stormy sky and unwelcoming body of water. "You've got ten minutes. Do with it what you like." The guard informs me as he leans against the building. I look around expecting to find ministry guards and officials waiting for me, but there is no one. All there is, is rocky land that very quickly and very dangerously tapers off into unforgiving water.

Unsteadily I walk: the rocks sharp against my bare feet, and my legs are unsupportive due to lack of use. The fresh air is bitter and harsh against my exposed skin. Not how I remember it. The last time the breeze came to my attention it was welcoming as I sat with Hermione on Dromeda's lawn and watched Teddy play in the grass. I remember it lifted Hermione's sun soaked locks playfully. It was nothing like the air surrounding Azkaban.

I wander, stepping precariously on unstable ground, until my poor sense of time tells me that I should probably head back. However, when I reach the entrance the man is no longer there. I put little effort into my search for the assumed guard before taking a seat beneath a dead tree. Cautiously I lean against it and close my eyes.

This is strange. If I had more energy I might use it to be wary of my newfound freedom. I could leave if I wanted to… Instead I will use this time to think without the restraint of the dementors' power.

The soles of my feet sting. Examining the ground that I walked upon I notice a dark path of footprints I did not observe before. Lifting one of my feet I find deep gashes in it. I am leaking red almost black blood, and fine grains of sand along with pebbles have embedded themselves in the abrasions.

Groaning I put my foot down. Wrapping my arms around my legs I rest my head on my knees and listen to the violent crashing of the waves.

After what feels like a lifetime I hear approaching footsteps. My body is frozen so I do not lift my head until a familiar voice fills my ears, "Come on, Bellatrix let's get you inside."

Confusion and relief fills me as I lay eyes on the owner of the voice. "Tonks?" My niece stops next to me and gazes down with a kind expression. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"I'm here to bring you back to your cell." She holds a hand out to me as she rolls her eyes. I never thought I would be so glad to see her impatience. Tonks' hand is warm and feels odd against my own.

I grasp Tonks' arm tightly, afraid she will disappear, as I limp to the doors of Azkaban. She waves her wand and the ancient wood creaks open. "Who was the man that took me from my cell earlier?"

"Friedrich. He's a new auror." She leans closer to me and looks around. "I never thought I would say this, but I've missed you."

I chuckle quietly, "Who would have guessed?" I hiss in pain as a particularly raw spot of my foot collides with the stone ground.

"Here," Tonks takes my arm and drapes it over her shoulders. "I'll do my best to heal you once we've gotten back to your cell." I gratefully rest against her.

"I've missed you too, Tonks. How are Dromeda and Teddy?" As we approach my current living quarters the dementors begin to move in.

Tonks raises her wand and pulls me closer. The dementors ignore her actions. "Expecto Patronum," she bellows and a large four-legged creature erupts from the tip of her wand. As the silver creature crashes with the dark monsters the dementors quickly glide away from the space around us.

She opens the barred door and we enter my cell. Sitting, I watch as Tonks waves her wand over my feet. The sensation is odd as debris leaves my wounds and they partially heel themselves. Tonks conjures fabric out of thin air and then wraps my feet tightly in the bandages. "You will be sore for the next few days." Sighing she takes a seat next to me. "Teddy and Mom are doing well. Teddy said his first word a few weeks ago. Mom misses you terribly and is trying to go on as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening in her life." I wonder if I will have to bring up Hermione or if she will. Judging by the silence that has descended upon us I will have to when I am ready.

"Have you seen Professor McGonagall lately?"

"Yes, actually," She pulls a small pouch from her robes and hands it to me. I raise my eyebrow at Tonks. "I've put a charm on it. There are letters in there from a few people. Food. A picture of Teddy and another cloak from Hermione. Shacklebolt doesn't know about this so if you could keep it hidden I would appreciate it. Harry gave me an idea when he was talking about Sirius so there is a mirror in there; Mom, Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I have one too. All you have to do is say one of our names into it and you can talk to us. If ever need anything you know what to do."

"I…Thank you…you have no clue how much this means to me…"

Tonks smiles at me. "You're welcome. I have to get going." I stand to walk her to the entrance. She surprises me by pulling me into a hug. I return the gesture gripping onto my niece tightly.

I watch her walk away through the bars of my cell door. Reaching beneath the thin cloth of my shirt I wrap my fingers around the pouch thinking of what it contains.

Wondering if I am ready to face what it holds.

Sighing I set the pouch in front of me. It has been two days and I have still not opened the small object. Whatever is in there cannot be as bad as what my mind has created.

Holding my breath I reach in and grab what feels like a bundle of letters. Pulling them out I gaze down at the first one. The envelope is blank. As I slip it out of its bindings my fingers brush a seal on the back. I can help but smile as I trace the crest with my finger. Slipping a finger beneath the seal I dislodge it before taking out the thick piece of parchment. Unfolding it I instantly recognize the flourished handwriting captured in emerald green ink.

Bella,
I find much of my time lately has been consumed by worry. I worry about your state in that God awful place. I worry that I will never see you again. I worry that you will soon receive the dementor's kiss. After talking to Hermione these concerns have only increased, and the fear of losing you haunts me. I've never told you this Bella, but you have always been like a daughter to me, and I suppose now is a good enough time as any to assure you of that. Tonks came to visit me a few days ago informing me of her intentions the next time she had the chance to visit you. I have enclosed a few things that I hope will be helpful. Please take care of yourself Bellatrix.

Fondly,
Minerva

I close my eyes to stop the tears from falling. I once again dig around in the leather pouch until I wrap my hand around a mirror handle. The object is silver and covered in an intricate design with a reflective surface on the front. I mumble, "Professor McGonagall," and quickly look away. I cannot bear the sight of my own reflection. When I return my attention to the mirror I find myself staring up at the ceiling of the headmistress' office. I believe I am seeing it from the desk. I can hear my professor's voice in the distance. "Professor McGonagall?" I ask perhaps a little too loudly for this place.

There is a rustling followed by shushes. Suddenly the view becomes blurry and sickening as the mirror is picked up. "Bella." I hear before I can see Professor McGonagall. Her voice is laced with relief.

As her kind face comes into view I can feel some tension easing from my shoulders. "Professor."

"For Christ sake Bellatrix call me Minerva; you are a grown woman. Even Hermione calls me Minerva," she says with amusement twinkling in her dark eyes.

"I'll try. How are you?"

"I'm well my dear. How are you fairing?"

"All right." The silence that follows is different. Awkward.

"I don't know what to say, Bellatrix. Only that I hope Hermione can find a way to get you out of there soon."

I hang my head, "Yes well…well I should probably let you go. You are most likely busy."

She sighs, "Yes I am. I will talk to you later?"

"Yeah," I send her what I am hoping is a convincing smile. Setting down the mirror I know I can't suffer through proper goodbyes.

Laying down I groan. There are at least two more letters, but I know I will not have the energy to read them for at least a few days. Dealing with people is more draining that I had thought it would be.

I packed my bag slowly as my heart beat in my ears and my hands shook slightly. Glancing up I noted that the room was emptying out.

"What's taking you so long? We're going to be late for potions." I looked up at Alecto Carrow with frustration.

"Go on without me. I've got to get help with the homework."

I could see the disbelief on her face. "Are you really going to ask that muggle loving, imposter of a teacher to help you with a subject that holds no weight outside this school?"

I had to stop myself from gawking. This was my first year, but I had never heard even the bravest of Slytherins challenge Professor McGonagall's standing as a witch.

Putting on an empty expression I sneered at her. "I wouldn't if I had a choice." She shrugged; accepting my answer.

"Just don't take too long. We are brewing today and you know how I am with potion making." I nodded and waited for her to leave before approaching Professor McGonagall.

She had her back to me as she returned the various shapes that were supposed to be needles back into matches for the next class. I wondered if she had overheard my conversation with Alecto. I cleared my throat and she turned toward me.

"Ms. Black, how may I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could set up a time with you to go over the homework. I don't quite understand the mechanics behind the Switching Spell."

"I find that hard to believe seeing as you are achieving great progress with transfiguring objects."

I found myself blushing at her statement, "Yes, but I feel that what is hindering me from perfecting the spell is my lack of understanding."

"Very well, but only if you don't mind learning from a muggle loving imposter."

I stilled my features though I wanted to cringe. Instead I put on an air of superiority, "I can manage."

Her words were cold when they met my ears. "Meet me here at seven."

xx
I knocked on the door and entered when she granted me permission. Once again I found myself a slave to an unsteady hand, rapidly beating heart, and knot in my stomach.

Professor McGonagall looked up from a stack of papers and motioned to a table in the front of the room. Quickly I sat and attempted to hide how nervous I was. I pulled the transfiguration article out of my bag that I purposely read for this meeting and a piece of parchment and quill. The silence between us made me shift in my seat while I waited.

Finally Professor McGonagall stood up and walked up to the desk I was sitting at. "Should we start from the beginning, Ms. Black?"

I shrugged and watched as she came around the desk and sat beside me. I refused to look up from my hands in my lap. I watched as I toyed with the end of my tie. Maybe this was a mistake, I thought. Surely there is someone else.

There were rare moments when I wished I wasn't a Slytherin; that I wasn't part of an elite wizarding family that was involved in the dark arts, and this was one of those times. I wouldn't have issues approaching Professor McGonagall, or explaining to my friends that I just wanted to talk to her: to somebody, for once.

"If we are not going to go over the homework I must ask that you leave, Bellatrix. I have assignments that need to be graded."

"Have you read the Clarke article yet?" I shyly asked. I made sure to find a recent article to discuss. I didn't want Professor McGonagall to have to have a conversation about an old, out of date source in order to please me.

"I'm afraid I have not had the chance yet. I've heard his theory on permanently bringing objects to life instead of using Inanimatus Conjurus have been proved accurate more than once."

"It's really quite fascinating! I have the article here if you would like to borrow it." I stated as I began to relax. I smiled at Professor McGonagall; I could see the surprise twinkling in her eyes and it raised my hopes. I was finally doing something right.

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

I immediately launched into a summary of the article for Professor McGonagall; occasionally stopping to insert my opinion and ask questions. I felt myself relaxing back in my seat as a sensation of safety washed over me.

I enjoyed hearing Professor McGonagall's opinions, and was thankful that when I asked questions she did not explain the answer to me as if she were speaking to a child, but rather to an equal.

The ringing of the bell from the clock tower informed us that it was nine-thirty.

"We didn't even touch on the Switching Spell."

"That's fine." The expression on Professor McGonagall's face changed for a mere second; not long enough for me to decipher it.

"Let me write you a note so you do not get in trouble for breaking curfew." She went to stand up but I handed her my parchment and quill so she didn't have to.

When I was at the door I bit my bottom lip before turning around. "Professor?"

"Yes, Ms. Black?"

"Can I come back next week?"

She glanced at me from the spot at her desk, "Same time, but in my office."

I smiled at her before leaving the room.

**
"Have you heard of the Death Eaters?" I asked Professor McGonagall as I continued to work on the my study material for the O.W.L.S. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she set down her glass of tea and focused intently on me. I shifted my gaze to meet hers.

"I have. What do you know about them?"

"Only that they are followers of a man named Lord Voldemort, and that their ranks are growing larger every day."

"Do you know anyone who has joined them?"

"No," I sent her a look that clearly stated that she would be getting no information out of me even though I had some.

My parents were the first to join the Death Eaters in my family. They did not speak much about it, and I was curious what they were involved in. I heard my friends talking about how their family had joined too, and that they were planning to once they were of age. I had been considering it, but that was not something I wanted Professor McGonagall to know. I could only imagine her disapproval.

The way she was looking at me I made me believe she had her suspicions.

"You will have to make a choice one day, Bellatrix. I have faith that you will make the right one."

It broke my heart knowing that 'the right one' held a different meaning to each of us.

Her intense gaze was upon me, but I knew I could not tell her what had happened. Nobody was allowed to know what my father continued to do to me when I went home. It was my choice ultimately, and I chose to protect my sisters.

"Bella, please tell me what's wrong." I looked up into Professor McGonagall's eyes and felt guilty. I felt rage and helplessness. Even the warmth in her eyes could not erase the intense emotions flooding me.

I hated her for caring. I hated her for leading me to believe that I was cared about. I wanted out of this room. Out of my life.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" She looked startled.

I wished I could tell her: tell her about my father, about my decision to join the Death Eaters, and all the pressure that was put on me by my friends for frequently visiting to her office for help. I wished she knew how much I was risking by continuing to see her, and by standing up for her against other Slytherins. I wanted to tell her of the pressure I had put on myself, and the new knowledge I had been gaining by studying the dark arts, and how briefly I had considered using that knowledge to learn how to combat the dark arts but thought better of it.

I would have risked my life if I had said I would not join the Death Eaters when my parents sat me down and asked me for my decision. I told them it was early: that I hadn't even finished my fifth year, and they replied by informing me the Dark Lord likes to know who he can count on to join him. They said they were proud of me for my decision, because the Dark Lord had never asked for a young woman to join his ranks, and it was the first time I had heard them say that. However, when I had finally managed to mumble a yes the only person I could think of was Professor McGonagall.

I wished I could tell her: tell her about how I wanted to run away.

"Don't use that tone…"Professor McGonagall snapped.

"I don't give a fuck about my tone! I can't deal with this," I interrupted and darted from the room.

There was no turning back now.

**
Rodulphus has his arm slung around my shoulders he shouted jovially along with our friends about how we made it, and the amazing new life ahead of us. We were in the entrance hall leaving Hogwarts for the last time.

I had my arm crossed over my stomach to protect our secret from the jostling crowd around us. Rodulphus pulled me tighter to him and I complied. The doors were so close and it seemed like I had a world of possibilities welcoming me on the other side, yet, the closer I got to them the more I wanted to run in the other direction.

I was ready to join the Death Eaters. I hadn't been readier for anything in my life, but I wanted to do it without Rodulphus. I was strong enough for all of the obstacles I would have to face: being the only woman in the Death Eaters, living away from home, and having a child on my own. I knew I could do it, and I hated the fact that I was supposed to depend on Rodulphus.

A figure standing on the stairs caught my attention. When I turned to see who it was I locked eyes with Professor McGonagall. Disappointment and hurt were on her face; it was the first time I had seen her publicly display emotion. The longer I looked at her the more the creature inside of me clawed at me and filled me with guilt.

I forced myself to turn away, however, as Rodulphus and I walked out of Hogwarts I looked back over my shoulder at Professor McGonagall.

**
My eyes snap open. I am breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. It has soaked through the thin article of clothing I am wearing. I grab Hermione's cloak, which at some point fell to the floor, and wrap it around myself.

The presence of the dementors has become heavier than when I first fell asleep.

The image of Minerva's face as I left Hogwarts is there every time I close my eyes to try to calm myself down.

I wished in that moment I had known how life was really going to be and not what I had been promised it would be. If I had known the consequences of the decisions I had made I would have turned around and run back through those doors. I would have dropped to my knees and begged Minerva for my forgiveness.

I would have asked her how I could make things right again before it was too late and I turned into a monster.

Brushing the pouch with my fingers I glance around. It's been two weeks and I still have not read Hermione's letter. I did read Dromeda's though. I decide not to risk it now. Even though it appears as if I am alone out here I know I am not.

Sometimes I can feel eyes on me, but no matter how desperately I search I cannot find the source of them.

Over the past two weeks being taken outside of Azkaban has become an unplanned routine. It happens randomly at any time of the day. I am always escorted out by someone who I do not know, and I am left out here past when I am told I will be taken back in. However, I am always taken back inside by someone I know. So far I have been taken inside by Tonks, Dromeda, Minerva, and once by Molly Weasley. That was not the most pleasant experience, but she was not unkind. Only hesitant to be around me.

Currently I am sitting on the edge of the island. Teetering consciously on the verge of death. All it would take is a slight wind, the rock beneath me to cave in, a wrong movement, and I would be sent plunging into the sea.

Light footsteps sound behind me. I continue to stare out into the unreachable distance. My mind far away with another.

"Hey, Bella," says a soft voice.

My head whips around as disbelief spreads through my body. "Hermione?" She sends me a sad smile and moves closer to me. She stops as she realizes how I am unstably perched.

Her chocolaty eyes watch me with muted hope. Carefully I get up and walk over to her. She instantly entwines out fingers and drags me over further behind the prison.

Hermione comes to an abrupt stop and I almost crash into her. When she turns to me she is confronted with a shocked expression. "What?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing. I just am surprised you're here. That's all."

She nods her head. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her shakily raising her free hand. I gaze deeply into those eyes. The fact that she is okay, and that she is here with me causes a giddy sensation to stir in the pit of my stomach.

I should pull away. I shouldn't get Hermione's hopes up. But it is physically impossible for me to move away from this moment.

Hermione rests her hand on my cheek and I lean into her touch. Searching for temporary comfort. My eyes flutter shut and I marvel at the feeling of her soft skin against my icy skin. I sense her moving closer. Opening my eyes there is only a few inches between us. Her breath is warm as it caresses my lips.

Before I can stop myself I pull Hermione into an embrace. My free hand tangles in her hair as I push our bodies flush together. Hermione's arm snakes around my back. Untangling out fingers my other hand finds the nape of her neck and I hold Hermione closely. I can feel her fingers weaving into my hair as I bury my face in her shoulder.

There is a lump in my throat and tears are building. Burning my eyes. I take an unsteady breath and Hermione pulls me closer. I feel her lips brush lightly against my head.

"I've missed you," Hermione whispers into my ear.

I nod, "I've missed you too." My grip on her tightens.

I'm not supposed to care about Hermione this much. I'm not supposed to expose so much emotion; yet I find myself doing both right now. It is unnerving.

"Let's go inside." I silently agree, however, I refuse to remove my arm from around Hermione's waist. She does not seem to mind and leans into me as we walk to the front of the prison.

Once we are in the cell she closes the door and the next thing I know her lips are against mine in a frantic, needy kiss. I kiss Hermione back with just as much emotion. She tastes sweet against my lips. Realizing what I am doing I pull way, yet I remain in her arms.

The expression of hurt that greats me is overwhelming.

Hermione leans in once again and when our lips touch it is in a kiss of passion. Gentle and timid.

I cannot deny her. At least not today.