A/N: I'm thinking there's going to be two parts to this story, maybe three if I can think of a good enough plot for the third part. I already have something planned for part two, though! Would you guys read it?

Also, thank you so much for all your reviews/etc, they make my day!

Thank you to my beta readers! :3

— — —

That night was the first night since Bellatrix's injuries that Hermione spent in her own bed.

The bed Bellatrix let you sleep in, Hermione reminded herself.

She tossed and turned, unable to even close her eyes. She hadn't realised just how much some of the things she had seen Bellatrix do haunted her until she was left in a dark room on her own. It wasn't like she was scared of the dark, she just had all the time to think about the things she'd seen and no one to chase away the memories when they became too much.

The image of Fenrir's head throwing back as he was placed under the Cruciatus Curse, his skull cracking open with the force he'd hit it against the floor, played a roll. A sick feeling settled in her stomach.

Then her mind drifted to the war, then to her parents, and she watched with tear-filled eyes as the small clock on the wall– illuminated by the moonlight that shone through the gap in the curtains– struck midnight.

Wiping her eyes and snivelling in an effort to compose herself, she quietly slipped out of bed and tip-toed out of the open doorway, taking a left at the hall until she came to Bellatrix's room. To her surprise, it was not closed as it usually was. Instead, the door was left slightly ajar.

Slowly, the brunette opened it and peered into the darkness before her. With a moment of hesitation, Hermione made her way over to the side of Bellatrix's bed which she had slept in for the past few nights and carefully crawled under the covers, not wanting to wake the dark witch.

However, after a quiet pause, it became apparent that Bellatrix was not asleep at all when she turned and pulled Hermione into a hug, kissing her forehead. Her lips lingered and, when she pulled away, she spoke softly to the younger woman.

"I heard you crying."

Hermione had made an extra effort to muffle her cries and keep her face in her pillow, and it surprised her that Bella had heard anything at all. "How long have you been awake?"

"Too long," the Death Eater's words could be interpreted in many ways, but Hermione didn't push for specification.

Instead, she cuddled into Bellatrix and let tears silently slip down onto Bellatrix's silk nightgown. The idea that the woman holding her was in love with her was too much. Bellatrix was supposed to be one of the most feared people to walk the wizarding planet, but here she was, being made vulnerable by a common human emotion.

There was no denying that Hermione cared for Bellatrix, even a blind man could see that, but what Hermione struggled with was loving her. Whether it was denial or whether she truly was incapable of feeling for the dark witch in such a way was unclear.

"Must we view Severus' memories? I don't want to see my mother."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. "It's important to me. Besides, aren't you even the slightest bit curious?"

"Hm," was all Bellatrix said in reply. Then, "What was he on about when he mentioned Potter's invisibility cloak? You're not telling me Harry Potter had one of the Deathly Hallows, are you? That's positively laughable."

"Well, I never thought about it like that, but possibly," Hermione gave a nod, "but Ron has it, which means we'd have to visit him and I don't know if I can do that right now. I abandoned him when he needed me most."

Something about the vibe Bellatrix gave off told Hermione the dark witch had rolled her eyes.

"Think of it as a trade. I'll stomach visiting my mother if you'll get the cloak off Weaselly."

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "What do you think we'll need the cloak for, anyway?"

"As a snake, I'll apparate us into the grounds. We'll use the cloak to get around, into Filch's office, then when we have evidence of him being the one to make Potter kick the bucket, we'll use the cloak to get away. What happens after that is up to you, but I would prefer to wait outside for anything else, it's safer for both of us."

"And after that?" Hermione asked. "You know, after we found Harry's killer, what are we going to do?"

"You are going to go back to your life, happy in knowing that the person who did this will never draw another breath, and I am going to… well, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Hermione tried desperately to find the right words to fill the silence that had fallen until she settled with, "What if I didn't go back to my old life?"

Bellatrix chuckled. "Then you're stupid."

"I'm never going to just go back to my old life like that, Bella," Hermione pulled away slightly and, now adjusted to the darkness of Bellatrix's room, could make out the outline of the witch's face. "Harry is dead. Ron and I, well we will always be friends but I don't believe we will be able to be like we were before. Harry was the one who kept us together, he was the glue. I'll be going back to an entirely new life as it is."

"But I'll be on the run," one of the Slytherin's hands released Hermione from their embrace to gently stroke her cheek, "and I won't have anything to offer you."

You'll have you to offer, Hermione thought, but the words never made it out.

"Besides, I could never do that to you," the dark witch tried to make herself sound light and conversational, but each word was heavy with a depression Hermione had never heard in Bellatrix's voice before. "You are capable of great things, go and do some good in the world."

The brunette didn't realise she was crying until Bellatrix started gently hushing her and stroking her hair. She had never felt more conflicted in her entire life.

"Go to sleep," Bellatrix told her when she finally calmed down. "Let's focus on the task at hand first, then we can think about the rest when it comes."

— — —

Bellatrix and Hermione stepped up to the massive front door of Black Manor.

That morning, Hermione had sent an owl to Ron, apologising for her disappearance but promising to explain everything if he met with her at two in the afternoon just North of the Burrow with the Cloak. Bellatrix had then quickly pulled Hermione into a side-long apparition, landing them in front of the dark witch's old childhood home.

Not bothering to knock, Bellatrix walked right in. The door was unlocked and, as soon as they opened it, they were greeted by the smell of dust and rotting wood.

"Mother dearest?" Bellatrix called, tone sarcastic as her heeled boots tapped across the marble floors. "It's Bella! I've come to see you! Come out!"

"What if she's out?" Hermione asked.

The entire house looked deserted, dust coating every surface. A large round table framed the open hallway and elaborately carved doors dotted down the entire stretch of the walkway. Any portraits were sleeping and did not stir, no matter how much noise the two witches made.

"She's never out, she hasn't left this house since my father died."

"Oh."

"Druella!" Bellatrix yelled.

There was no reply.

"Hm. Most unlike her to avoid confrontation. Oh well, the Pensieve's in the study. Furthest door down the hall."

Hermione gave a nod, making her way warily towards the door Bellatrix had motioned to while the dark witch busied herself looking around at the portraits.

When she reached the door, however, she couldn't open it.

"It's stuck. I think it's charmed," she said, running her hand over the wooden surface.

Bellatrix sighed, waltzing over to it and tapping her wand to the door handle as if it were child's play.

As soon as she did, a foul smell hit their nostrils.

Hermione covered her mouth and nose, her eyes watering as she swallowed back the bile that had risen in her throat, but Bellatrix only wrinkled her nose, all too familiar with the smell of a rotting corpse.

"Oh my god," Hermione started to walk down towards the open doorway, turning back to look at Bellatrix, before she stopped when she saw the Death Eater's face.

A blank expression stared at the doorway, but the look in her eyes told Hermione that Bellatrix knew exactly what she was going to find on the other side. So, stomaching the smell best she could, Hermione walked back and placed her hand on the handle, looking to Bella for confirmation to open it.

The Slytherin only closed her eyes, but Hermione took that as the closest to a 'just get it over with' that she would ever get and she pushed the handle down and slowly opened the door.

If the smell had been bad before, it was certainly worse now, but Hermione held her breath as much as she could and peered inside at the half-decomposed corpse that lay across the solid oak desk.

Bellatrix opened her eyes, facing her mother's dead body with a sigh.

The Gryffindor stepped inside and walked up to the unrecognisable partial skeleton on the desk and noticed three pieces of paper clutched tightly in its right hand, holding them to its chest, even in death.

Gingerly and careful not to touch the corpse itself, Hermione reached over to pluck the papers from Druella's dead hands. As she did, she stepped on the broken remains of a green glass vial, but ignored it as she retrieved the papers.

They were letters addressed to each of Druella's daughters. Out of respect, Hermione didn't read them. Instead, she handed them to Bellatrix who flicked through them, stuffing the one addressed to her neatly yet disregardingly into her robe pocket. She skimmed through the ones addressed to her sisters and scoffed.

"Suicide notes."

"Aren't you going to send them to your sisters?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know yet. She wasn't the best mother. I could make up some story about going to visit her one day and finding her dead in her bed, it would be easier on them than reading the gabble she'd have had them read," Bellatrix tucked the other two letters in the pocket with her own.

"But she wrote those letters for them so that they could read them and hear her out, isn't it a little bit disrespectful to her if they don't at least get the chance?" Hermione stepped outside of the room, heading for the front door for a breath of fresh air.

"No, because she's dead. She doesn't feel anything anymore, she's empty, which is exactly what she wanted. They don't deserve to be passed her pain just because she couldn't be bothered to deal with it herself. I'll make a decision this evening, but frankly, Hermione, it's not any of your business."

Hermione snapped her jaw shut, frowning. It wasn't any of her business, but Bellatrix had been too short with her. There were nicer ways to tell her to stay out of it. Either way, Hermione let is slide as Bellatrix headed around the back of the house.

Hermione followed her until they came to an overgrown garden. Bushes which were probably once trimmed to perfection and stones which were now slimy with an odd green coating greeted her, and Hermione watched as Bellatrix started using her wand to dig a hole which she presumed was Druella's grave-to-be.

"The Pensieve's in the study. I should be done with this by the time you're done with that and I don't want to stay here any longer than I need to."

Realising that now was not the time to question Bellatrix, Hermione gave a nod and headed back into the mansion, holding her nose as she entered the study.

She looked around and, in the corner, a Pensieve not unlike Dumbledore's sat on a stand, surrounded by a collection of memories all labelled in a beautiful script.

Hermione couldn't help but glance at them, looking at the tags. There were things like Andromeda's first trip to Hogsmeade and Narcissa's first ball, but one memory that was not in its place in the rack lay on its side next to the Pensieve. Hermione rolled it over to reveal a tag that read, Bellatrix's first steps.

Tearing her eyes away and busying herself with pulling out Snape's memories when she heard Bellatrix heading for the study, she didn't turn to look at the dark witch when she walked into the room. She knew Bellatrix was only going to lift Druella's body with a charm and float it carefully into its grave, and she didn't feel like it was something she needed to watch.

So, without further ado, she poured the memories that Snape had given her into the Pensieve and lowered her face into the rippling surface.

"Don't ignore me, Severus," Dumbledore's voice was somewhat soothing to hear and Hermione felt her stomach knot at the sight of the late Headmaster. "We both know that Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me. But, should he fail, I should presume that the Dark Lord will turn to you. You must be the one to kill me, Severus. It is the only way. Only then will the Dark Lord trust you completely."

The words were all clear, but visually the memory was rather hazy, almost as if Snape hadn't wanted Hermione to see something. Whether he was hiding something important or personal, however, Hermione didn't know. Perhaps it was both.

"There will come a time where Harry Potter will need to be told something," the Headmaster continued, "but you will need to wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable."

Snape, who had started walking away in anger, stopped and turned to Dumbledore. "Must be told what?"

"On the night that Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry, and Lily Potter cast herself between them, the curse rebounded. When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched onto the only living thing it could find; Harry himself."

A grim look crossed Snape's face as Dumbledore continued.

"There is a reason Harry can speak with snakes. There's a reason he can look into Lord Voldemort's mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside him."

Realisation seemed to dawn on Snape. "So, when the time comes, the boy must die?"

"Yes," Albus gave a sad nod. "Yes, he must die."

The potions master looked grimly upon the headmaster. "You've kept him alive so he can die at the proper moment? You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"

"Don't tell me now that you have grown to care for the boy," the way he said it made Hermione wonder whether Dumbledore had ever cared for Harry at all.

Suddenly, the memory shifted. Hermione was no longer standing in Dumbledore's office but was now standing next to Harry on the Astronomy Tower. Snape was motioning for him to stay put, a finger to his lips in an effort to get Harry to stay quiet.

Above them, Dumbledore reasoned with Draco and the group of Death Eaters, Bellatrix among them.

A shift, and Severus was casting the Killing Curse at Albus.

Another shift and Hermione was standing in a small room lined with bookcases and a fireplace, a rocking chair positioned perfectly to face the door. Bellatrix and Narcissa were there, Snape making unbreakable vows to step in for Draco.

As she came out of the memories, she saw flashes of others, but couldn't quite get a good enough look to see what they were.

Gasping for breath seemed to be the wrong decision in the foul-smelling room, but Hermione couldn't help it. So many things made sense.

The thing that she kept thinking about most, though, was that Harry hadn't died when Voldemort was at his most vulnerable. Did that mean that the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated at all?

At least now, Hermione knew that Snape had been loyal to Dumbledore. The Headmaster had asked him to carry out the deed, to step in for Draco, but what Hermione wanted to know was why.

After finally tearing herself away from her own thoughts, Hermione looked down at the memory that lay next to the Pensieve, the one labelled Bellatrix's first steps. Curiosity ate at her as she picked it up and rolled the vial between her fingers until, eventually, she caved.

Replacing Snape's memories in the Pensieve with Druella's, Hermione lowered her face into the bowl again and found herself lost in a world that wasn't her own.

She recognised the hallway and watched Druella Black– young, healthy, alive– walk through her manor until she came across an elf who was walking out of the sitting room with a crawling baby Bellatrix in tow.

The woman smiled and went to greet her child, lifting her up and embracing her in a cuddle.

Hermione noticed just how much like her mother Bellatrix looked when she saw Druella, and even as a baby, Bellatrix still looked like herself. The brunette also saw the beginnings of a small bump growing from the mother's belly.

This must've been when she was pregnant with one of Bellatrix's sister's, Hermione thought.

"Hello, Bella."

The baby giggled in excitement.

Druella went to put Bellatrix down again and, as she placed her on her feet so she could lower her onto her hands and knees, Bellatrix began to walk. It was wobbly and they weren't quite steps as much as they were stumbles, but Hermione felt her heart warm as she watched.

The mother gasped excitedly and knelt down next to her child. "Are you walking now?"

A squeal of delight came from baby Bellatrix as she started to walk again, gripping the hand that Druella held out to her for support.

"My Bella is so clever!" Druella chuckled, scooping her child up into a cuddle again.

The memory faded and Hermione returned to reality with tears in her eyes. Quickly, not wanting Bellatrix to know she'd seen the memory, she wiped them away and left after pocketing Snape's memories and putting the memory of Bellatrix back where she'd found it.

It was a relief when she finally stepped outside and walked around to the garden where Bellatrix had finished burying Druella.

The dark witch stood at the foot her mother's grave. It was covered with massive grey stones, one stone at the head of the grave which had been magically engraved with the deceased's name, year of birth and year of death.

"You know, you didn't have to do this now," Hermione walked up behind Bellatrix and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"But I did, because otherwise it would have become Cissy's problem, or Dromeda's if she ever came back, because if I hadn't done it today I would have never done it," Bellatrix sounded so monotonous, almost as if it didn't bother her, but Hermione knew it did.

"Do you want a minute?" the brunette asked.

"No," the Slytherin shook her head. "I said my goodbyes long ago and I don't honestly believe I have anything left to say."

"Would you like to go, then? We'll have time to shower before going to the Burrow if we leave now."

Bellatrix didn't reply, she just took Hermione's hand and intertwined their fingers, apparating them back to the safehouse.