Chapter 21

Unbent, Unbroken

Something woke her up. At first she could neither name it not understand. Blinking against oppressive darkness, Narcissa Malfoy sat up in her bed and swung her feet off the mattress and on the floor. Something was wrong.

The house was eerily calm. Almost as if some menacing presence hung around it, enveloping it in its clutches. Trembling slightly, she shook her head trying to comprehend what was wrong. She stood up, unsure whether to act upon her intuition or go back to sleep, she finally decided to head to the kitchen. A glass of water was a sufficient excuse. Were her gut feelings wrong, she would simply take reassurance in the simplest of actions and return to bed.

She marched on without turning the lights on. She walked past her sister's room and then turned right, the stairway appearing on her left. She entered the kitchen. It was empty and quiet, if not for a steady ticking of a large clock that hung above the sink, the silence would be profound. With a flick of her wand, she summoned a glass and turned the tap. The water was icy and the difference of temperatures made her grasp slick, unstable. She gulped the water in a most inelegant manner, thinking idly how her Mother would have reacted had she seen that display of lack of manners.

Something caught her attention. It was a sensation, once again nothing solid. She was a mother, however. A sixth sense was something each and every mother shared. Instead of returning to her bedroom, she marched out of the kitchen, into the hallway and halted before the door that led outside. She tensed, trying to hear something, anything, yet all there was, was silence. She held her breath and, despite what common sense told her, opened the door.

The wards were on. Severus Snape and Antonin Dolohov had added some extra ones, making sure that should anybody trespass, an alarm would be set off, rousing the inhabitants.

Someone was outside, however. She narrowed her eyes, for split seconds overcome with anxiety, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as waves of adrenaline washed over her. Yet the intruder was sitting on the rock stairs with their back towards the doors, a very familiar scent surrounding them and, with a breath of relief, she recognized them immediately.

'Hermione.' she whispered in the dark and saw the stranger, bathed in specks of street light, flinch slightly.

'Narcissa.' the response was hoarse and almost strained. Ignoring the sense of propriety that screeched for her to leave the girl be in her nighttime musings, she made her way, barefoot, towards the girl until she was right beside her. Exhaling deeply, she sat down, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

'Are you alright?' she tried to sound comforting but the girl, that tough, tough woman, flinched as if slapped and she realized that everything was far from alright. There was tension in the girl's posture, stress gripping at her shoulders while weariness pushed them down. The woman was looking away from her, tousled hair obscuring her face. Narcissa watched her like a hawk, reading all the signs while perfectly aware how invasive and unwanted that must have felt.

Yet she had this memory etched in her mind. Of her and Hermione on some rocky cliff overlooking the sea. How sad and tired the woman had looked. She was standing so close to the edge when she got there, as if she was about to jump. Upon seeing Narcissa, Hermione took a step back and shot her a smile that never reached her eyes which remained shut down.

Something was wrong.

'I nearly did something stupid.' the woman spoke in hushed voice, causing her to flinch in response and shake out of her musings. The tone in which the statement had been delivered was oddly blank, as if coming from someone who was emotionally burned out.

'What happened?' she demanded softly, trying to catch the woman's (not the girl, never the girl, not anymore the girl) attention.

'Nothing worth telling.' the reply was as soft as hers had been. 'Just a silly impulse, nothing else.'

The statement, or maybe the hollow tone in which she had spoken, filled her with fear she could neither understand nor name. She reached out, cautiously and slowly, and put her hand on the woman's shoulder. She never reacted, though, unmoving and cold like a marble statue.

'Just a silly impulse?' she repeated, not knowing how should she react. It was difficult to respond when one did not know what the other was speaking about. Her fingers clenched on the woman's shoulder; it was so skinny, merely skin and bones.

'Yes.' the woman nodded, her face still away, hidden by a black mane. 'I think' she added in a slightly stronger voice 'that the whole predicament is starting to wear me off.'

'There's no shame in that.' Narcissa answered, knowing the moment she spoke out loud how lame and stupid it had sounded, yet Hermione never scoffed nor pushed her away.

'I know.' Hermione acknowledged dully and, miraculously, turned to face her. 'I know.' there was a faint smile on her lips, tugging at their corners, something that bore the mark of mirth. 'Nonetheless it's late. Why are you up?'

'I could not sleep.' Narcissa set on half-truth, not wanting to lie or admit she had been woken up by a sense of foreboding. 'Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? Whatever it had been?'

'There's no point.' the woman smiled at her, this time the smile was genuine and slightly bizarre, as the play of light and darkness distorted her features almost unsettingly. 'It won't happen again.'

'Are you sure?' the words slipped her mouth before she had any chance of stopping herself. She had no idea what they were talking about yet a confirmation from the woman seemed to be vital.

'Positive.' she nodded in response, her smile growing even wider. 'Thank you.' Hermione added softly and took a drag. Her cigarette was almost finished. She watched the woman lift it and inspect it and then, with a small sigh, extinguish the remains on the step she was sitting on. 'Well, it seems like I've wasted this one.'

Narcissa almost chuckled at that, were the notion not undignified and most surely unsuitable for a Black. Her mother had always been most wary of her manners. Bellatrix, being the oldest, was the one to marry for fame and glory, and being the most unruly, was to be shoved away. Andromeda was always the freak. And Narcissa, the perfect daughter and the youngest child, was to marry to fortune and namesake and become a pure blood princess Bellatrix had been supposed to become. While Bellatrix ran rampart and Andromeda was shunned away, it was Narcissa who had been honed and pruned until she was ready to face the world and marry Lucius Malfoy, a gentleman all the girls desired.

Probably because you weren't either headstrong like Andy or rebellious like Bella.

'You can always have another.' she observed, reveling in the change of mood. Whatever shadows had been encompassing Hermione earlier on, were now gone, dissipated in the woman's everyday briskness. It was like watching a sudden change of the weather, a lone dark cloud on a perfect day, dreadful the moment it obscured the Sun yet gone before causing any additional grief. A phantom menace, as scary as short-lived.

'Probably I will. And probably by tomorrow my voice will be raspier than Darth Vader's.' the woman shot her a broad grin and upon noticing Narcissa perplexed expression, chuckled in a friendly manner 'A Muggle villain. Classical, really.'

'What did he do?' she asked, genuinely curious. Hermione pulled the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her jacket, instead of answering, and fished out one she put in her mouth immediately. When she lit it, she took a deep breath and then exhaled the smoke through nostrils, a sight that reminded her of a sleeping dragon she had once seen, ages ago.

'He wasn't real.' Hermione finally answered, her tone almost cheerful 'It was just a story.'

'What happened to him?' she wasn't really curious, yet she felt a genuine want to keep talking to the girl. Since Lucius died she could not sleep. The bed was too big, no matter how ridiculous it felt during day hours, she longed for the presence of another while she slept.

'Upon his dying day he found his redemption by saving his son and defying his master.'

'So he was a hero?' the short reply make her heart flutter inexplicably.

'A dark hero. If you know what I mean. A villain through and through who yet managed to be saved.' the woman took another drag and this time held her breath, her head high up. Narcissa watched her profile, a straight and delicate nose, a sharp chin, extremely long eyelashes, overly malnourished body, and realized with another jolt that the woman was astoundingly beautiful, nighttime granting her ethereal quality she did not posses in broad light. Quite the contrary: daytime had her wired, ripples of energy washing off her body, focused and driven, Hermione was as real as they came.

'I think I do.' she admitted finally, her voice cracking inexplicably. The entire situation left her in a state of shock. It felt so right and so comforting to sit beside this incredible woman and talk about random subjects, the darkness that was within them pushed aside, even if just for the sake of couple stolen moments.

The woman nodded, letting her know she had heard, but said nothing more and Narcissa found herself dreading the moment they would have to part. Hermione must have, however, had felt something shifted between them, as she suddenly cocked her head and looked at Narcissa questioningly.

'How do you manage to be saved?' Narcissa asked, surprising even herself. The woman moved suddenly, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

'You allow yourself to change.' she answered slowly 'You agree with the idea of salvation.'

'What do you mean?' for some unknown reason her heart was pounding now as if some huge mystery of the universe was about to unravel before their very eyes.

'No one and nothing, no force on this Earth, can save you against your will.' the woman took another drag of the cigarette.

Narcissa Malfoy shivered.

'Would you mind sharing a bed with me tonight?' she blundered suddenly and almost covered her mouth in sheer embarrassment.

'Gladly.' Hermione smiled instantly and there was something comforting in the swiftness of her reply, as if the request was a most frequent thing she had ever heard.

To wake up in the arms of another was a bliss. There were arms around her, steadying her and grounding to the mattress. There was heat pouring from another's body, encompassing her in an envelope of safety. Narcissa blinked against the sunlight, its patches entering through window and licking the room. She felt groggy.

She was lying on her side, an arm that never belong to her was under her neck and she held the protruding hand in her own, another arm was draped around her waist. She turned on her back and stifled a moan of embarrassment. Her dreams had not lied. She had spent the night with Hermione.

The woman was also lying on her side, her face oddly serene. The focus that was permanently etched upon her features in the waking hours, was now gone, replace by immense softness. After all, Narcissa realized with a small pang in her chest, the woman was very young. Twenty one, maybe from a teenager's perspective could be that big of a deal, was no adulthood by any chance. Twenty one is when one begins to explore the world and try to learn of who they are and what they want. And twenty one should most definitely not be the age when one commands troop and marches into slaughter that would make seasoned tacticians pale and shiver.

Hermione blinked, her eyelids trembling when a loose ray of light danced across her face. Suddenly she jolted upwards and sat up, staring around the room in alarm. Then her eyes found Narcissa's, who found herself drawn to the woman's presence beyond any reasoning, and she relaxed her stance.

'Morning.' the woman smiled, her voice still thick with sleep.

'Morning.' Narcissa Malfoy, the ice queen she had chosen to become years ago, was smiling like a schoolgirl. 'I hope you slept as well as I had.'

'Oh yes.' Hermione nodded and ran a distracted hand through her hair, tousled curls sticking out in all the odd places. 'Better then... since eternity.' She blinked once again, her face unfocused 'Oh dear.' she muttered 'I actually think I've slept in. Fancy a coffee?' with that she looked at Narcissa with the smallest of smirks, probably realizing what others' reactions would be the moment they left the bedroom together.

Especially her sister. Narcissa shivered faintly, remembering the strange obsession Bellatrix had developed with the woman.

'Yes, please.' she smiled back, knowing very well that Bella was prone to rage and ravage over seeing them together. It made absolutely no sense. Bella always despised those of lesser birth and looked down on most of the pure bloods as well, considering them something inferior to Blacks, a notion that never made sense since there were families much older and much more powerful than their.

Of course the House of Black was ancient and noble and everything worthy of upholding. Yet to claim it to be the oldest or the most noble was nonsensical. Had Bella studied heraldry and genealogy like she had, she would have learned that the Continent was teeming with families that originated back to the Roman Era; the French took pride in their Gallic families, Italians loved those who could say in a simple conversation 'When my ancestor, Cassius Numa Iulia, entered Rome with Caesar...', Germans spoke of their Teutonic ancestors and so on. The Blacks, in comparison to Irish and Continental Wizarding Families were not a big deal, to be honest.

Narcissa blinked and decided to think of something else. Mornings always left her with random thoughts in her head, whenever she had just woken up, her mind would spin and speed, flood her with memories or musings. Today, it seemed, her mind had decided to delve into genealogy.

The woman was looking at her oddly and Narcissa shot her a small smile. 'Sorry. You were saying?'

'That your sister won't probably like seeing us together.'

'No. She won't.' she shook her head.

'Can I ask you something?' the woman was sitting on the bed, legs down and hands firmly placed on her lap, the very sight of elegance despite her morning attire.

'Please do.' no matter what time it was, Narcissa was never the one to let go off her manners. Birth is one thing. But since you can be a barbarian even with noble heritage, it was how you molded yourself mattered in the end. When aristocracy starts to act like peasants, the downfall of the world so cherished was imminent. It was what Lucius' mother always said, a woman who despised crudeness with all her might. Being pure blood would never suffice. One had to strive even further. But then, she was an offspring of an ancient French family that barely made it out alive out of Paris when the Revolution's claws began tearing at both Muggle and Magical nobility.

'Why... why does your sister -? I wouldn't say despise me, because this is obvious... Why does she act... as if she was jealous?'

'I don't know.' she shook her head 'I can't even say it's typical Bella's behavior. Something is going on with her, Hermione.'

The woman nodded and stood up, once again pushing her hair back. There was a faint smile on her lips, a little lazy and a little weary. 'How do you like my new hair?' she asked, indicating towards those jet black tresses, so dark they drank in the light.

'Most unusual.' Narcissa smiled back 'How did you achieve that?'

'Muggles have their ways. It's hair dye.' the woman walked towards the door 'I can't get used to that either. But I didn't have the time to get the color off.' she twisted the doorknob and shot Narcissa another small smile 'Coffee?'

She nodded and walked towards the woman. Shoulder to shoulder they marched to the kitchen, ready to face Bellatrix's ire.

Her sister was furious, of course. She was sitting on the kitchen table and examining her nails with an expression of utmost boredom on her face. Upon seeing their entrance, her entire posture tensed, the all-familiar fury pooling in her eyes.

'Morning Bellatrix.' Hermione spoke in bored voice, marching towards the oven.

'Cissy!' Bella rasped at her, eyes round 'How could you -? Did you sleep with her?!'

'It's not quite what you think, Bella.' Narcissa responded smoothly, avoiding her big sister's gaze 'Miss Granger had just shared my bed. At my request.'

'But Cissy -why?'

'I could not sleep. And I don't think I need any justification of my actions, Bella.' she kept her tone cool and unconcerned, knowing it was the only way to shut Bella out. It pained her, even if just a little bit, to close off on her sister, yet Bella had grown over these days even more unstable than before, her actions unexplainable and their spectrum too wide to be predicted.

'You could've asked me.' there was a trace of hurt in her sister's voice, an emotion of Bellatrix she was not familiar with.

'You would've shunned me away -or leered. Like you always do nowadays.' she knew, of course, how coarse and hurtful her response had sounded, but she needed it, she was hurting and Bellatrix never made it easier for her. The big sister she once knew, the strong and iron-willed Bella was gone, replaced by a moody monster who destroyed everything in her wake. There was no explanation for her behavior. Bellatrix had gone over the edge she had been teetering on for years and now all that was left, was insanity. Something had triggered and snapped within Bella, it was not Azkaban nor her continuous service to the man who had been the first to damage her, it was something entirely else, something Narcissa could not even comprehend.

And no matter how she wanted her sister back, she began considering a coup de grâce. One puts down rabid animals to spare them their misery, wasn't it so?

'Cissy! I need you to stay strong! You have to be strong!' Bella whispered urgently, her eyes huge and full of some unknown emotion, whether was it sheer urgency to state her cause or pain, it remained unclear. Narcissa felt a heaviness of sorts set on her shoulders and she ignored her sister only to face a steaming cup of coffee from Hermione, the woman's brows knitted tightly as if she was in deep thought.

'Do you want a cup of coffee as well, Bellatrix?' the woman kept her voice civil, apparently striving to keep some semblances of social grace between them and Narcissa could not help but admire her prowess.

'No.' Bella would not be Bella if her response was any different than cold, uncaring snap.

'All right.' the woman acknowledge and took a sip from her own cup 'If you'll excuse me' her eyes traveled to Narcissa, a faint trace of smile setting in them 'I think I need my morning cigarette.'

And with that she was left alone with her sister, the silence between the uncomfortable.

'Do you like that Mudblood?' Bellatrix's question was almost quaint in its soft nature. She was still perched atop the table, legs swinging lazily. Narcissa sat herself on a chair and pondered her response.

'I do, Bella.' she looked at her sister uncertainly, wary of any outburst 'I admire her greatly. She's the bravest and strongest person I've ever met.'

'Stronger than me?' the question was petulant and childish and so disappointing that Narcissa had to swallow her bile first.

'You've... changed, Bella.' she answered softly, trying to sound stand-offish and failing miserably 'I hardly recognize you anymore.'

'Why?! Did she -how did she?' whatever Bellatrix was trying to ask was lost in anger that made her voice tremble.

'It has nothing to do with her.' she retorted, her own anger growing rapidly 'Why are you so obsessed with her anyway? It makes little sense, Bella. If you hate her like you claim you do, why don't you just set on ignoring her? Yet you keep following her. All your conversations revolve around her. You attack her and you talk to her. What's -? Why, Bella -why?'

'I can't wrap my head around her, all right?' the reply was short and full of anger. Bellatrix leaped from the table and waved a dismissing hand 'You're imaging things, Cissy. Probably because you're like Dolly. All over her.' with that, her sister left the kitchen, her heel clicking distinctively.

'Wait!' she yelled, an astounding realization washing over her like a bucket of cold water, almost grounding in the sensation 'Are you -attracted to her?'

'NONSENSE!' Bellatrix's shriek was vile. Then there was a bang and then another - and then silence set on the house once again, until a very grumpy Dolohov entered the kitchen, sporting a decent black eye.

'Your sister, Narcissa, has gone completely bonkers.' he growled as he threw himself on the chair 'Hermione won't hurt her, but something must be done.'

'I know.' she admitted bitterly, brokenness filling every inch of her be.

Hermione returned with an oddly excited Severus Snape in tow.

'We've made contact.' she spoke hurriedly 'Bill and Fleur Weasley will be joining us tonight. And Wesker's called. I'm having another date with him in three hours' time. And Bellatrix has to join me. He's requested her presence.'

'Oh dear.' Narcissa clutched her heart 'These are some news.'

'Indeed.' Snape admitted briskly and his lips twitched in a parody of a smirk 'Now, who is up to the challenge of informing Bella?'

'I think I'll do it.' Hermione sighed heavily and scratched her cheek, nails leaving surprisingly deep trails 'After all, I'm the one who's in a fake relationship with her.'

'Good luck.' Narcissa would have never supposed Dolohov was able of any genuinely warm gestures, yet there he was, sitting in his chair, feet prompted on the table, a merry smirk playing on his lips, the very epitome of lazy friendliness. He was the exact opposite of Lucius and there was some sincere cheerfulness about him, something he never exhibited while in the presence of that Man. Probably, she pondered darkly, they all were concealing things about themselves when in His presence. He was like a vacuum, sucking in all the life and joy that came in His vicinity. All He had to offer was gloomy darkness, a soul-wrenching sensation of falling into a gaping pit with no lifeline nor any means of belay. There was no glory in service, she realized, their need were never satisfied, for all He cared about was his lunacy of a mission, a Man driven by the fear of death was no leader, merely a ghost of one, a broken specter of misguided ideals, a litmus paper indicating the extent of the fall of the Families. They were declining. If a weakling such as Him had become their leader and they accepted him and greeted as their savior, they had fallen even further than anyone would have ever considered.

Abraxas Malfoy's wife, that iron-bred French noblewoman whom Narcissa had met few times in her life, a delicate, almost porcelain-like old lady, whose blue eyes were cold as ice, would have spat upon Him. Whatever weakness had seemed to have inhabited the woman's body was nothing more than a mask, beneath the fragile demeanor there was pure steel, a soul unbent and unbroken. And upon realizing it all, Narcissa felt a pang of regret that she never had the chance to learn more of her - and from her. Had she paid more heed, things would have probably turned out differently. She would have recognized that lord Voldemort was nothing more but a shell - with nothing but fear underneath.

It was too late. Life was too short and too brutal to allow one to mend their mistakes. What had been lost, would never return. Linearity of human life was something Narcissa found more terrifying than anything else in the world.

She watched Hermione depart and turned to look at Snape. The man was evidently tired. There was an amount of certain rigidness in his posture as he sunk onto a vacant chair.

'Would you like some coffee?' she offered gently, trying to convey her support. He merely nodded, eyes suddenly finding hers.

'She rubs off on you, Narcissa.' he spoke in his trademark soft voice 'Yet I do not find it as disturbing as I would have thought it would. Say, a month earlier had you offered me a Muggle beverage, I would have disbelieved my own hearing.'

'Life changes us all.' it was a truism and cheap one at that, but she never cared anymore 'You can't tell what's going to happen tomorrow.'

'No. You can't.' he acknowledged dully 'I believe the proper thing to say would be carpe diem.'

'Carpey dyam?' Dolohov cut in, eyebrow shooting up in surprise 'What is that?'

'As I have said before, life tends to surprise us all.' Snape grimaced slightly, regarding the man with obvious distaste 'One would come to believe that being pure blood meant being educated beyond mundane level. How disappointing, Antonin. It means seize the day in Latin, for you information. A useful if not overused past the point of pathetic and ridiculous phrase, mind you.'

'Overused?' the man inquired, ignoring the jibe with a small smile, friendly if not a little predatory.

'People tend to think it means squeeze the day. Let yourself loose and do all the things one ought not to do. Abused by teenagers who adore their drama and their occasional outbursts of pure idiocy.'

'Say, you are drunk and on a broom?' Dolohov's smile was now prominent, crinkling his eyes with its width.

'I presume you've been there?'

'If only once. Lucky for me, it only resulted in breaking few bones and some decent lashing performed by my dearest father. Oddly enough, he never took it upon himself to punish himself for the same.'

'Gentlemen' she thought it necessary to cut in and handed Severus his cup of coffee 'I've watched her do it' she added in explanation 'I hope you find it fine.'

'Most certainly' he took a small sip and nodded 'Maybe the next time you'll add less water and it will be just perfect.'

A very disgruntled Bella had to be almost coerced into going out with Hermione. Narcissa spend the remaining time assisting the woman change into her blonde version, every now and then fixing the dress they picked. It was a short, black thing, with a cut that run from the knee to her hip, provocative but not totally obscene. As Hermione had explained, they were to meet Wesker in some strange club in London. Hermione had called it an S&M club, whatever that meant it sounded pretty gross. The woman put on black heels made of shiny leather, probably taken off a crocodile. She looked promiscuous, when transformed into a tall and curvy body of that blonde woman, her breasts almost spilling from her cleavage. Narcissa had to swallow harshly, distaste was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She much preferred the original version of the woman, black hair or not, to this standard and almost vulgar beauty that stood before her, unfamiliar blue eyes observing casually every move Narcissa made.

'Good luck.' she sighed finally.

A/N: Maybe I shouldn't, but I did, nonetheless. The gens Iulia isn't fake; it was one of the most ancient patrician families, best known for Gaius Julius Caesar. The line is broken, yet there is some speculation amongst historians that its branch, the Julio-Claudian Dynasty survived, possibly via Valeria Messalina. I'm no expert and I can't remember the details, since I've heard about the research about seven years ago and can't bother to look it up.

Dear reviewers, thank you so much. I've never actually cared for reviews, yet now every single of them is a pleasure. So thank you to CaraCersei, Darkshadow-lord

Locutus: I wouldn't say we're dealing with Hermione's growing attraction towards Bellatrix as of yet. It's mostly curiosity. And don't worry. It wasn't a suicide attempt. I'd rather say an impulse triggered by weariness and all sorts of unpleasant sensations. I'd wager a bet we've all been there, the point when all you want to say is "fuck it, fuck off" is nothing uncommon. Truth be told, if Hermione was to kill herself, she wouldn't mop about it hundreds of chapters earlier, she'd be like 'Oh, OK. I'm done.' At least: my Hermione would say that.

CrucioMe: I'm friggin awed. Thank you very much, if there was a competition for the title of Review of the Year, yours would be the champion. I'm flattered, happy and aim to please. In Bellamione pairings I'm always more interested in Hermione, truth be told. Bellatrix's quite simple. If you change her too much, she'll be out of character and that's a shortcut. Hermione's a blank page. You can play her any way you want as long as you stick to the basics. I've started to value a Bellamione fic on how Hermione's shown. I strongly dislike when she's mopish, quavering and awed by Bellatrix. I like Bellatrix but I very much like the idea of giving her the run for her money.