Carpe Noctem

by APermann

"Remember when I told you I'd read her mind? I saw something peculiar. Bella, I think there's a possibility she could be— she could be a venor floccus." AU, centred around Hermione Granger, a very best friend of Draco Malfoy, back when she was just a fifteen-year-old kid dealing with her inner demons, trying to deny the growing interest in a mysterious Bellatrix Lestrange.

29. Like A Lazy Ocean Hugs The Shore

CARPE NOCTEM / LIKE A LAZY OCEAN HUGS THE SHORE, HOLD ME CLOSE, SWAY ME MORE / CH. 29

The wind outside the Barmy Beetle, a renowned wizarding night club in Southern England, was much too crisp for an August night, and Hermione shivered in her garbine cloak as she and Bellatrix Apparated in front of the iron door, the entrance.

The rusty beetle-shaped door knob in the centre was described in the brochure 'Top ten places to visit for a magical night out' that had caught Hermione's eye in Flourish and Blotts when shopping for books a couple days after she had returned from the Malfoys' last summer. It was a guide designed for international wizards mainly but Hermione had grabbed a copy herself as she was curious to see whether there were more places like the one she, Draco, and Astoria had snuck out to at the pureblood ball.

She remembered that The Barmy Beetle held the sixth place on the list. Located in an old emergency military storage bunker in Devon, it was well-protected from the unwanted muggle visitors. In order to get inside, the beetle on the door had to be fed ten galleons which activated a simple age-check spell. No underage wizards were permitted to enter as the brochure described the place as the darkest in the wizarding clubbing scene. Hermione couldn't grasp how such a shady place could even appear on the list, but then, night clubs, in general, weren't exactly known for their staid and safe environs.

Hermione cast a nervous glance at Bellatrix, who was rummaging through her pockets, clearly looking for something.

'...frequented by night creatures; excessive drinking and smoking; shut down numerous times for illegal trading..."

She drew a shaky breath, peering into the surrounding blackness that soon, as the wind had picked up and swept the clouds away from the full moon above them, developed into a vast field of yellowing wheat. Her eyes lingered over the heavy spikes swaying in the breeze like an endless sea of waves before returning back to Bellatrix, who had moved closer to the bunker door with a thick sack of galleons clinking in her hand.

"Oh, I'll pay for myself," said Hermione quickly, reaching for her beaded purse as she watched Bellatrix offer the shiny coins to the beetle who had come alive and kept swallowing them one by one.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Nonplused, Hermione paused with her hand halfway to her pocket; if anyone heard Bellatrix at that moment, they wouldn't have the slightest doubt she and Hermione were on great terms. Her tone came out with this dismissive yet friendly blithe touch, which Bellatrix must have registered herself because she immediately added, "It's not like you'd own as much money, is it?"

Should have expected that...

"What makes you assume that I'm poor?" asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes. "I mean, I'm not particularly wealthy, but that's because I don't like to rely on family's money; you know, I'd much rather earn my own," she said, fishing for her purse and approaching the door herself. She was making a determined effort to appear on top of the situation but inside her reigned a mad panic—Bellatrix was going to kill her for that remark.

"You get cheekier and cheekier by the day, Granger," said the witch after a moment's pause. "If I had the time, I'd teach you some manners right here."

Hermione remained silent. She took out the beaded purse from her pocket and searched it frantically. Why was Bellatrix's voice so silky smooth and why was it making her stomach leap like that, especially with such a statement? She was surely going mad... Her fingers closed over the sack of gold and she took it out of the purse. Having counted ten galleons, Hermione fed it to the beetle; then she returned everything into her pocket and waited, avoiding Bellatrix's eyes at all cost.

Nothing happened at first but then the iron door began rippling like water of many brilliant colours and morphed into a reflectionless mirror—the age-check spell.

Scooping up the courage, Hermione took a hesitant step forward but was stopped by Bellatrix's hand on her forearm. Hermione felt her stomach leap even higher. She turned to the witch, blinking rapidly—Bellatrix's eyes glowed in the dark night.

"Are you absolutely sure you know how to approach him?" she asked.

"Yes," lied Hermione.

Bellatrix scrutinised her for a moment, keeping her hand on her arm. "Don't do anything stupid that might cost us later!" she warned. "Don't mention the cup—talk about it obliquely and let him bring it up." She raised her eyebrows, tipping her head down. "And also... do it before getting too intimate with him, he might lose interest if you put out first."

The statement pierced right through Hermione's chest, knocking the breath out of her. Did she just...? No... No, she couldn't have! Bellatrix couldn't be so messed up as to think that Hermione would sleep with him!

Right...? Clearly, she was.

A plunging wave of apoplexy rioted inside Hermione. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched her arm from Bellatrix's grip. "Speaking from your own experience? No worries, I'll let him deflower me after I've found out where your precious cup is." Having said that, she tore her eyes away from Bellatrix's flabbergasted face and pushed through the mirror, ignoring the chilling sensation that coursed through her body.

Deposited into a tunnel of aged cobblestone and subterranean atmosphere, Hermione took only a second to look around; sloped gently downward to the right, the tunnel was illuminated by rows of torches embedded along both sides of the walls. At the far end, a silver drapery marked an opening, letting in a dim sound of cabaret music which grew steadily louder as she set off straight toward it.

Words could not describe how much she despised Bellatrix at the moment. Why did she always have to think the worst of her? Did Hermione have a sign on her forehead that read 'trash'? But Hermione was going to show her—so what if she made her angry. So what, so what, so what.

A trio of wizards emerged from behind the drapery and ambled toward her, their cheerful voices and laughter only adding to her vexation. Averting her eyes, she moved more to the side, walking as fast as her high heels would allow her. They passed each other halfway through the tunnel, and luckily for her, none of them looked her way. Soon, Hermione reached the entrance. She had no intention of waiting for Bellatrix as she stepped through the curtain into the space beyond.

In front of her gaped an elegant yet hopping venue, swimming in cigarette smoke and a crowd of insouciant wizards; the neon blue and purple lights were shining through, making it look as though they were underwater, at a bioluminescent coral reef. Small circular tables with pouffes and embroidered sofas, almost all taken by groups of two or more wizards, dotted the left side of the room, leaving the right side to the bar and the middle open for dancing. The elevated stage was positioned straight across from Hermione's vantage point, with a jazz band of about eight members on it, all dressed in long black robes with the exception of their singer, a plump woman of a gorgeous face who was, just like Hermione, dressed in a hot red evening robe.

Hermione took a hesitant step forward. Surveying the occupants, she noticed how many of them were past middle age, how men outnumbered women ten to one, and how very few of those women resided there of their own free will. A tight knot formed inside her stomach. As far as she could see, there was nobody as young as her and what was worse, it seemed to her that people had started to take notice: heads were turning and eyes were shamelessly running up and down her body—and she was yet to take her cloak off.

Putting her best effort to ignore the attention, Hermione sauntered toward the bar, determined to look for Barbary. So far, there was no sight of him and she could only hope that Bellatrix was right in saying that he would be here tonight. How she had figured it out was a mystery to Hermione but she tried not to ponder it. Bellatrix and her questionable ways of ascertaining information didn't matter anymore. All Hermione cared about right now was to do everything she'd been told not to.

Squeezing through the sea of people, she spotted an empty stool right at the end of the bar. Perfect. She'd have a supreme view of—

"Hello, gorgeous!" a raspy male voice said near Hermione's ear.

Hermione turned around and raised her head to see a big broad-chested man of dark hair and a scruffy robe. In the dim purple light, his face seemed craggy and his eyes dilated, acquiring a very unusual shade of green.

"Hello," she greeted out of politeness, blinking rapidly as he smiled at her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, thank you," she said firmly, noticing how pointed and yellow his teeth were; she'd never seen teeth like that in a human before. "I'm actually waiting for a friend so..."

"What friend?" he asked, inching toward her. The stranger extended his hand over Hermione's shoulder and propelled himself on the pillar that was right behind her back, leaning far too close for her liking. She could practically taste his breath that reeked of whiskey and something, something else... something metallic...

Hermione's stomach heaved as she placed the smell.

She drew back instinctively, letting her eyes roam over the club in hopes of seeing Bellatrix or Barbary or whoever else that might come to her rescue, but there seemed to be no one who would have minded her situation. Hermione realised she had no other choice but to sort this out on her own.

"Heathcote Barbary; do you know him?" she asked, trying not to show how scared she felt as she looked at him directly in the eye.

"Ah, the musician, big star, huh?" he replied, breathing more of his repulsive breath into her face. "Haven't seen him around. How about I keep you company while you wait? Care to dance?"

"Thank you but no, I don't—"

"Come on, one dance!" He removed his hand from the pillar and closed it tightly over Hermione's forearm.

"No, I—"

"The lady said no!" intervened another male voice. "Let her be, Greyback!"

The man named Greyback released Hermione's arm and faced the incomer of whom Hermione saw absolutely nothing due to Greyback's broad shoulders.

"I told you, one more incident and you're banned from the Beetle for life," the voice continued sternly. "Now, will you leave on your own or should I help you?"

Hermione didn't know who'd taken her side but felt unbelievably grateful. She heard Greyback murmur a bunch of incomprehensible words before falling completely silent. He remained standing on the spot for several more seconds before letting out a throaty growl that sent shivers down Hermione's spine and, striding away, disappeared in the crowd. Now, Hermione could see her rescuer, a small lantern-jawed man, probably in his fifties, with austere blue eyes that softened as they locked with hers. In his right hand, there was a wand which he quickly put into his sleeve.

"You alright, young lady?" he asked.

"Yes; yes I am! thank you!" she said with the deepest gratitude.

"I'll be around the corner if you run into a nutcase again." He winked, pointing behind himself, before turning his back to her and walking away, not even waiting for her response.

What a kind soul, thought the shaken Hermione. He had taken the trouble to come here to help her without even wanting anything in return; hadn't even said what his name was. Good people were evidently still around.

Hermione gave his back one last grateful look before walking to the stool she'd seen earlier and took a seat, placing her hands in her lap. She was off to a bad start and wished for nothing more than to go home and—

Pull yourself together, you're not a ruddy child anymore, Hermione scolded herself. She couldn't run and hide every time things got difficult, damn it. She had a job to do; first of all, she had to infuriate Bellatrix and along the way try to find where Hufflepuff's cup was.

Alright then. Hermione drew a couple of deep breaths. She leaned over the bar top and for the first time in her life ordered a shot of fire whiskey. The smirking bartender, sporting one dimple on his right cheek, looked her up and down as if sensing just how big of a sham she was, but didn't say anything as he waved his hand; in front of Hermione appeared a rocks glass, and a bottle of Blishen's firewhiskey descended from the shelf above, pausing in mid-air. He waved his hand again and the bottle poured a generous amount of rich auburn liquid into the glass before placing itself back onto the shelf.

Hermione mouthed a thank you and pulled the glass closer toward her. Now she'd have to wait until—

Was it the universe trying to make up for all the crap it had been putting her through, or just a lucky coincidence, but there, about ten feet away from her, standing in between two nice-looking witches, just ordering a fire whiskey of his own, was Heathcote Barbary.

So, Bellatrix was right, after all. Hermione gulped, her heart skipping a beat. What should she do now? Obviously, get his attention; but how with two women on his arm, already? However much Hermione didn't want to, she untied her cloak and placed it behind her, charming it to the stool so no one would touch it. She heard a whistle coming from her right but ignored it. Okay, what could she do that would stand out... He was famous, he must be used to women throwing themselves at his feet. What he's probably not used to that much, must be a woman that resisted his charm; a strong opinionated woman, sort of distant, yet still flirty enough to keep him interested.

Adjusting her hair, Hermione took the glass in her hand and glanced in his direction. She couldn't afford to mess this up but she had to take the initiative—had to approach him with a perfect line. But what should she say? Well, there was this one paragraph in the autobiography of Weird Sisters. Maybe she could use it to her advantage.

Hermione scooped up all her courage. Deep breath in, deep breath out, she squeezed her way up to him. Pumped up with adrenaline, she tapped his shoulder.

Barbary turned his head to her only for a brief moment. "Want my autograph, doll, don't you?" For a rock band member, he was surprisingly soft-spoken. Yet, for such a soft-spoken person, not at all humble.

"Gee, thanks, but no; I only wanted to see in person what the simpleton that believes in the flat Earth theory actually looks like," said Hermione placidly, leaning in so he'd hear her clearly over the music. It was mentioned in the autobiography that he was a big enthusiast of conspiracy theories and that his favourite was the one about the flat Earth, namely—allegedly, he could annoy people by talking about it for hours.

Barbary took a moment before turning to her fully and scrutinising her. His eyes were dark and challenging, filled with a black eyeliner inside his lower waterline. His long obsidian hair was tucked in the collar of his leather jacket and the thin primmed lips hid behind an extended goatee.

He didn't seem happy to have been called out and Hermione had to resist the urge to flee; it wasn't exactly her style to be rude, especially to someone she'd just met, and for a moment she thought she'd blundered but then Barbary smirked.

"Let's bet that by the end of the night you'll be a simpleton, too," he put forth as he surveyed her face some more.

Damn, it had worked; it had bloody worked!

"Not a chance," replied Hermione, trying to hide her excitement behind her narrowed eyes, but felt like some sparks of it still slipped into her voice.

Barbary didn't seem to have noticed as he drew closer, "Why? Are you scared I'd change your mind?"

"Hardly." Hermione held his gaze as she inclined closer herself. "But alright, give it your best shot."

Barbary's smirk turned into an intrigued smile, which gave his face a completely different character; with the deep lines on his cheeks and his eyes twinkling, he looked rather handsome.

"I bet you a hundred galleons that I can change your mind about flat Earth."

"And if you don't?"

"You'll dance with me."

Hermione couldn't help rolling her eyes as she suppressed a giggle. "That is not how it works! But tell you what, let's make it fair and go a hundred and a hundred," she suggested, confident she wouldn't lose; in no time or space would she believe in such nonsense as Earth's flatness.

Visibly amused, Barbary winked. "Deal." Then he pointed to the tables on the other side. "Let's sit over there, we'll have more privacy."

Hermione shrugged, saying that she was just going to quickly grab her cloak. She adjourned to her seat, leaving Barbary to excuse himself from his two pretty ladies. On her way back, with a glass of whiskey in one hand and the cloak in the other, Hermione noticed that they didn't seem too happy about having been ditched and were looking at her in such an angry fashion it made Hermione blush. She averted her eyes, trying not to feel guilty as she bypassed the dance floor to get to the table Barbary had chosen for them. There were no chairs, only a sofa that seemed to be far too small for a casual conversation between two unromantically-linked people.

Hermione's stomach churned. She'd never felt more adult, more feminine than she did right now. Face covered in sultry makeup, her body in a tight dress, having a grown man in front of her taking that dress off of her with his eyes. He was making it so obvious that he liked her and the observation couldn't have made Hermione feel more omnipotent. It was as if her juiced up appearance erased her timidness altogether and gave her a completely different persona.

Placing her glass onto the table, she slowly settled next to Barbary, keeping as much distance between them as the small sofa only allowed her. Hermione put the cloak behind her and crossed her legs, letting the skirt slide off and expose her naked leg.

The jazz band had just started playing the slower version of Sway by Markus Haider.

"Well then, doll," Barbary commenced over the singer's voice, resting his arm on the back of the sofa, his eyes briefly resting on her thighs.

"Delphi," emphasised Hermione firmly. It made him smirk.

"Of course, Delphi. I suppose you already know my name, don't you?"

Hermione tipped her head to the side, twisting her lips.

"In that case, we can skip the formalities," he said, taking a pause before adding, "Tell me one thing, though. How did you find this out about me?"

"Does it matter? I was under the impression we were going to discuss the flat Earth theory, namely," said Hermione, quite surprised at how easily the words were coming to her tongue. Perhaps it were the years and years of practice of talking to Draco.

Barbary's eyes twinkled as he looked down again, holding his hands up in surrender.

"So tell me." Hermione turned more toward him, his gaze snapping back to her face. "What is it that makes you believe in a theory that is so absurd it defies most common sense and logic?" she asked probably too impudently.

Licking his lips, Barbary inclined closer. "Logic or programmed thinking?"

"You're not going to start with brainwashing or simulation theories, are you? Because if so, I'm out of here," warned Hermione, lifting her eyebrows.

"You don't believe in those either?"

Half-joking, Hermione rose from the sofa, making Barbary place his hand over her forearm as to keep her in there. Sitting back, she removed his hand and moved it to rest on his leather pants. Then she faced him, noticing that somehow, his smirk was much closer than before. Mechanically, she pulled away.

"Don't try your charm on me, sir!" chided Hermione in an amused tone. "It's not going to work."

"Let's bet."

"We already have and so far you're losing. I still haven't heard anything that would make me reconsider my opinion."

Barbary tilted his head, taking a moment before saying, "You were serious?"

"Of course, I was serious! What? Did you think that I agreed to talk about this because I'm secretly a fan and want to become close to you?" smirked Hermione. "I genuinely want to hear your arguments. I mean, how did you even come to think of such nonsense?"

Barbary seemed as if he didn't know whether to feel offended or taken aback, and compromised by smiling. "Well—" He wet his lips again. "The man that got me questioning things was Samuel Rowbotham and his Bedford Level experiment. In 1838, he and his friend went to the Old Bedford river—Samuel waded in with a telescope held eight inches above the water, while his friend got on a boat with a five-foot mast and rowed away from him. Now here's the thing, had the water surface been curved with the accepted circumference of a spherical earth, the top of the mast should have been about eleven feet below his line of sight, right? But it wasn't! The vessel remained constantly in Samuel's view for six bloody miles."

"That could be easily explained by atmospheric refraction," said the unimpressed Hermione, wiping the victorious grin off his face. "Your next argument?"

Barbary stared at her for several seconds before recovering and saying, "The Bible."

"The Bible?" repeated Hermione incredulously. She better be dreaming.

"Yes, it specifically says there is a firmament above us! A firmament! Also the passage about the Earth expanding to four corners?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment. When the hell had Luna Lovegood died and reincarnated into Barbary. "Are you seriously basing your arguments on a Christian book?" she asked. "Abook that was written by people who knew absolutely nothing about science? I wanna hear about the empirical evidence!"

"Well now, that is a bone of contention." Barbary took a sip of his whiskey and Hermione utilised the time to look up and search for Bellatrix but her mane of curls was nowhere in sight. God, if only she knew what Hermione was going through.

"What do you consider evidence? Experiments, pictures? Because you see, my dear, those are all provided by NASA, whether we're talking about the wizarding or muggle department. How can we trust them after that fake Moon landing? Besides, all they give us are composite images. The Earth can't be photographed in one shot; they go and take multiple pictures and put them together in those little software thingies of theirs—try inspecting them closely, though, and you find that there are spots like cloud formations that repeat several times. That's definitely fishy." Barbary paused to take a deep breath. "If you fancy more evidence, there's also this flight."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look.

"There was an airplane flying from the Philippines to Los Angeles. They had a pregnant woman on board whose water broke and they needed to make an emergency landing. They could either turn around or fly to Los Angeles. You know what they did? They flew to bloody Alaska which is completely nonsensical if you look at it from the 'Earth is a globe' perspective. But—"

Barbary took out his wand and, waving it for several moments, created a small model of a disc-like Earth made of pure mist with the continents spread out on it.

"Look at this—if the Earth was flat, from the Philippines and Alaska, it's a straight line—not a roundabout route," he finished and as Hermione looked at the model, she found to her great surprise that he was actually right.

"That hardly explains anything," she objected, still not buying into it.

"Maybe not, but you cannot deny that it's very strange."

Hermione tried not to argue, thinking it would only result in back-and-forth bickering. Her eyes darted to the bar again.

"And there's this game from the eighties, The Illuminati—have you heard of it?"

Shaking her head, Hermione faced him again, intrigued against her own will; she really hadn't heard of it.

"It's a card game with four hundred and fifty cards. On each card there's a picture and a short text, referring to the means as to how to control the world. What's deeply unsettling is the fact that the game seems to imitate reality. Tons of those means have been already exploited or are being exploited at the moment."

"Give me an example," said Hermione.

"Well, there's the card called A.M.A., depicting a doctor with his arms wrapped around a skeleton. Many believe it indicates the pharmaceutical business. There's so many new diseases discovered each year; people are experiencing intolerances to food and just, generally talking, health issues like never before... They make us sick so they can stuff us with pills and their pockets with money."

Hermione took a deep breath. While she wasn't a fan of conspiracies and the majority of Barbary's points sounded crazy, there was definitely something about the healthcare system at least. Hermione touched her whiskey glass, saying, "By them, are you referring to the Illuminati?"

"Who else?" Barbary snorted. "There are cards like Gun control, which you cannot deny is now a real thing. Then, let's see...Rewriting history which I think refers to the Mandela effect; The Saturday morning cartoon depicts muggle kids obsessing over technology. The card named Paranoids specifically talks about some drugs being forbidden because they make us see reality as it is, and there's also the card with a flat Earth."

Hermione shook her head, swirling her whiskey in the glass. "I find impossible to believe something without sufficient proof, but let's assume just for a tiny moment that you're right. What would be the reason behind all this?"

"Control," replied Barbary simply. "They distract us with meaningless stuff like material possessions and cheap thrills because it makes us easier to control."

"But what about that flat Earth of yours? If it's true why would anyone want us to think otherwise?" asked Hermione.

"There are two possible explanations. The first one is that behind Antarctica, which is believed to be the ice wall surrounding the flat Earth—mind you, we can't even cross Antarctica without someone monitoring us, and even like that we can only get to a certain point before we're forced to get back; and don't even get me started about the protective charms that are placed over the area—but basically, it's believed that behind that ice wall there are actually continents the government doesn't want us to know about," said Barbary, taking a gulp of his whiskey before continuing. "And the second explanation; well, that one touches on religion in a way... an orbic Earth aimlessly roaming through space doesn't necessarily need God, because, you know, the Big Bang theory, the evolution; but a flat Earth, which is static, would require a creator. And to me, an Earth created by something higher than us rather than just developing on its own by chance actually makes a lot more sense. Everything we see, including us, is designed with the most amazing precision; the entire universe, every little detail in it is mathematical; the math is bloody everywhere and in everything—the Fibonacci sequence and the golden ratio. Just look around you, what are the odds of something so perfected happening coincidentally. And that leads me to another theory and that is the question of reality in itself."

Hermione looked at him for a while. "You mean the question whether or not we are real? Whether or not we're in a simulation?"

"Exactly. And it's not just me; many well-educated, credible people like doctors and scientists think it's a huge possibility."

Hermione let go of her glass. She had tons of questions to ask him but she had her task to think of. So far the conversation hadn't touched on anything she'd come here to find and she felt like it was the right time to change the subject before losing her attention completely. "Not that I'd believe any of this." She gestured with her hand vehemently. "But listening to it makes me so anxious that I'm willing to pay you those hundred galleons anyway if only we could stop talking about it."

Barbary smirked. "That's the first step."

"What do you mean?"

"Never you mind." He dismissed. A short silence ensued before he turned to Hermione. "Well, now that I lost, I think I deserve a consolation prize—the dance."

Smirking, Hermione turned to him. "Uh oh, I didn't agree to that."

"Oh come now, how else am I supposed to stun you? You said my smile wouldn't work, my opinions have obviously done the opposite... The only thing left is dancing."

Sensing an opportunity, Hermione decided to finally try and dig something out. "How about your wealth? You're not going to brag about that?" she asked.

"Nah, you don't seem like the type I'd charm with gold."

While smiling, Hermione bit her lip and tilted her head, exactly like she'd seen Blair do last summer. "What makes you think you wouldn't get me hooked on money? Or...perhaps you do—only there's nothing to offer," she teased, letting her eyes dart to his drink before shooting up again.

"What? You think I'm one of those people who drink away their money and then beg their parents for financial support?"

Hermione twisted her lips.

"Wrong; I would never ask my parents for gold," said Barbary. "I usually go to my grandparents," he added, faking seriousness, which made Hermione chuckle. He chuckled too, then nodded toward the table.

"You haven't drunk a drop, Delphi."

"Ah, I was so wrapped up in your tales that I completely forgot," replied Hermione, taking the glass in her hand. As she lifted it toward her mouth, a soft cinnamon scent hit her senses. Instead of a toast, she recalled Bellatrix's voice telling her not to drink and took a large gulp out of pure spite. It stabbed at her tongue, burning all the way to her stomach where it spread, sending heat into her blood like an opiate.

"How about another one?" asked Barbary.

"Only if I'm buying," replied Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"By no means!"

"Then you can forget about dancing with me." She shrugged, finishing her whiskey. Her eyes prickled but she quickly blinked the sting away.

Barbary sighed with clear reluctance. "Fine, but it's only one drink!"

Hermione was grinning as she stood up and, seizing her beaded purse, began adjusting her dress. She could already feel the whiskey taking a mild effect on her and she lived for every second of it. Aware of Barbary's roaming eyes, she sauntered to the bar, doing everything she could to move as sultrily as the crowd of people only allowed her. There, she ordered two shots of whiskey, paying for those and the two she and Barbary had already drunk. When she returned a short time later, it was obvious she had the man exactly where she wanted.

Fifteen minutes later, surrounded by a number of empty glasses, Hermione and Barbary sat close to one another, looking at each other, both with different intentions, laughing and talking until there lapsed a comfortable silence which Hermione took as a suitability designed to help her open a subject she needed. She might have been a bit drunk but she had enough clarity so as not to forget why she was here.

"You're lucky your grandparents are still alive," she said, feeling awful about her next choice of words. "Mine unfortunately..."

Barbary shrugged. "I don't see them often, though. My grandfather's always travelling and... Oh, this, you hear that? This is my song! You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off you," he sang to her with his eyes closed.

No no no! Not now, when the conversation finally took the right turn!

Barbary stood up, handing Hermione her own glass while lifting his to his lips. "Cheers!" He downed the shot and Hermione downed hers, biting her lips as the liquid warmed up her cheeks. It felt good, so ridiculously good that Hermione should probably slow down otherwise she'd end up completely plastered and she felt like she wasn't that far from it. She seized Barbary's arm, trying to hold him back but he wouldn't take no for an answer. Still, the song he kept singing along to was almost over when he finally managed to persuade her to dance with him.

Barbary held her hand as he linked her arm through his and led her toward the dancing pairs in the middle. The alcohol in Hermione's blood was like a small fire, making her feel so alive, so sure of herself, and so enraptured by the moment she couldn't help a genuine smile from blossoming upon her lips. How she hoped Bellatrix was there to witness it. But no, there was still no sight of her. Where the hell was she?

Hermione felt a hand slipping to her lower back.

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

Barbary was singing aloud along with the pretty singer in such a dramatic voice it made Hermione throw her head back in laughter. He laughed himself and as he pulled her closer, Hermione saw a wolfish grin plastered across his face which she didn't mind one bit. He must have thought she was all over the moon but he couldn't have been more wrong, thought Hermione, grinning in her drunken daze. Oh, she was going to have so much fun spoofing him tonight. They were swaying together, occasionally stepping on pieces of the broken glass that was shattered across the floor here and there. Barbary certainly knew how to hold a woman and guide her body and Hermione couldn't have been bad herself since she'd had the best teacher, her grandfather, to draw from. She imagined they must look amazing but then, she might be too drunk to judge.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off You

The pace of the song quickened and Hermione let out a surprised gasp as Barbary swept her into his arms and spun before putting her back down.

I love you baby

And if it's quite all right

I need you baby.

He made her turn and while still holding her hand stepped away for a short moment only to pull her to him next second. Hermione didn't even know how but suddenly there they were, spinning and laughing, Barbary trying his best to imitate Hermione's hip swings which made him look ridiculous but all the more lovable.

Oh pretty baby

Now that I've found you stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

You're just too good to be true.

The song came to an end but as Hermione made to leave, the jazz band began playing another one, a ballad this time. Barbary chuckled and with his eyebrows raised, shook his head, saying, "No, no, no, we're not leaving just yet."

Tightening his arm around her waist, he pulled her even closer. Hermione felt his breath stir her hair as she rested her cheek against the warmth of his chest. It had been such a long time since she'd been held with affection. Such a long time. She couldn't help clinging to him like a wounded child.

Then there came a soulful voice of the singer.

Stay beside me, stay beside me

Say you'll never leave me

How I love you, how I love you

How I need you, please believe me

In your arms, I've found my heaven

And your lips have done their part

Hermione's smile began to slacken, her eyes unfocusing.

Your love is all I need in my world

Let tender kisses plead in my world

How could I ever live without you

My heart belongs to you, so take it

And promise me you'll never break it

Say you'll stay here in my arms

Each word sung felt like a needle thrust into her heart time and again, spilling her forlorn love which bled and bled, pouring over her ribs and through her lungs, stealing her hitching breath. What was she doing touching him? He wasn't who she wanted to be here with like this. It was all so very wrong; his arm around her waist, his flat chest pressing into her own chest. Oh, she didn't care for his warmth. She wanted nothing of him.

Barbary adjusted her hand in his and, bringing it toward his mouth, placed a small kiss against her knuckles. However sweet the gesture, it didn't affect Hermione in any pleasant way.

It wasn't the touch she longed for. Hermione needed the touch granted to her so rarely; that touch that was so delicate and fleeting it felt as if it was a butterfly brushing her skin rather than a human being... for in the spark of that ephemerality that had seeped through her skin and buried itself deep within her, she'd found magic more glorious than she had ever known before.

It was she, still alive in her heart, in her every waking thought... so distant and so far away.

Were you ever even real?

Hermione released her hand from Barbary's grip and traced her neck. Had she taken off the necklace or had she only imagined having it? Barbary's now free palm strayed to her shoulder blade, caressing the bare skin. No, no, no...

She could feel her heart break for a thousandth time. His body against hers didn't feel right. He wasn't Blair—and while his scent, spicy and clean, might smell alluring, it was nowhere close to Blair's, for she smelled of fresh gardenias and love and Hermione needed her here with her so damned much, talking to her, cradling her, losing herself in the incredible softness of her body. She had so much love for her. So much irrational, mad love, she couldn't stand it.

Her stomach heaved.

What the hell was Hermione doing letting someone else touch her when she mountingly longed for her arms only? And why the hell did it, of all days, have to dawn on her tonight?

Whiskey—bloody whiskey and that bloody song, making her feel like dying without her right now. Oh Blair, does a thought of me ever cross your mind? Do you ever think of seeing me? Naive, naive Hermione. If Blair was here, she'd most likely feel the same way about Hermione as Hermione felt about Barbary. Damn... that cut deeply.

'Why are you doing this to yourself?' asked a quiet voice inside her head.

'Because I like drowning in self-pity.'

'Yeah? Listen to this then, Blair would also much rather spend time here with him than with you.'

Hermione released a tearless sob mixed with a desperate titter.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" Barbary's voice murmured against her hair.

Gripping his shoulders, Hermione shook her head in a desperate effort to ease the pain. She gave him a quick look before leaning in. "I miss her so much it makes my heart ache," she half-whispered, half-cried into his ear.

"What...? Who do you miss?"

Hermione wasn't thinking as the name escaped her lips, coated in so much tenderness that her stomach clenched.

"Who is Blair?" asked Barbary intriguedly and Hermione looked aside, sighing.

"A spectre."

"I see." He swept a loose curl from her eyes, making her look at him. "How about we forget about your spectre together. Would you like that, Delphi?" He cupped her cheek. "You're so—"

Hermione tore herself away from him. "No... I want to see her. I wanttogotoherandto—" Her tongue tripped over her own words. "I want to bring her a daisy."

"You want to bring her a daisy?" repeated Barbary.

"Yes, yes, a daisy, and I'd tell her that my feelingsfor herare like daisies; that just like they grow around the world regardless of the conditions, my whole body blooms with them every time I think of her... regardless of the conditions," she said quietly.

God, she must be so so drunk.

Barbary leaned in. "Tell me something... are you in love with Blair?"

"Heartbreak... I'm heartbroken with Blair."

He nodded as if putting one and one together. "So this is why you resist my charm, huh? Well, in that case, there's nothing I can do except... except I could accompany you to your Blair if you want to see her so much. Maybe the three of us could sort out that heartbreak together."

It took Hermione a moment to get the full meaning behind his words. "What?!" she barked, pushing him away from her. "I can't believe you would—don't you dare think of her in such a way; she's no sex object to fulfil your fantasies! And neither am I, got it?! Honestly, is this what women mean to you?"

Barbary looked so dumbstruck Hermione had to push him in the chest again to wake him up. People dancing close to them moved out of her way. "Goddamn it, have some respect!"

Backing away, Barbary held his hands up. "Shit, I'm sorry! I—it was just a joke!"

Sure it was, you prick. And there Hermione thought he was actually sweet.

"How about another drink?" he asked, obviously trying to fix it.

"No way; you screwed up!"

"I know and I'd like to make up for it," said Barbary but his innocent tone didn't soften Hermione's glare in the least.

She wanted to punch him so badly, to show him she would not stand for such objectification, especially when it came to Blair, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of thick, jet-black locks. Bellatrix! Freezing, Hermione took a moment to think. She did not turn to see whether or not it was really her because damn it, Hermione had gotten carried away and still hadn't really learnt anything helpful.

Taking a deep breath, she gave Barbary one last angry look. She'd much rather eat a piece of the broken glass that was under their feet than talk to him again but the problem was, she didn't have that choice. And it was all Bellatrix's fault. Had she not provoked Hermione, Hermione wouldn't have drunk and she wouldn't have danced with Barbary and she wouldn't have thought of Blair with so much heartache and—

Hermione looked to her left. Bellatrix was sitting at the bar with an amused expression and her legs crossed; the tips of her fingers were touching her glass while she talked to some stranger who was standing far too close to her. A twist of deeper anger coiled inside Hermione. So she was having a good time? Fine, Hermione could too.

"Alright, let's get another drink!" she gritted, looking at Barbary, who seemed visibly relieved. Folding her arms and holding her head high, she set off back to their table, doing what she could not to look at Bellatrix and that man as she and Barbary walked past them. Why are they laughing? Nevermind, it doesn't matter!

"Look, what I said there was really inappropriate," started Barbary as soon as they settled on their little sofa. "I am really sorry!"

Hermione tore her eyes away from Bellatrix's back. "Well, you better be!"

"Forgive me, please?" he pouted, dousing her anger just a little.

"Only if you promise that from now on you'll be more respectful toward women!"

"I'll promise you the world but please, don't be cross with me anymore," said Barbary with puppy eyes, his breath brushing her cheek.

Sighing, Hermione gave him a look of resignation, which made him smile.

"So," he opened. "You're in love with a—"

"No, no, we're not going there. Besides, it's your turn to spill the beans about your sad life. You were talking about your grandpa earlier," said Hermione, trying to be casual. "What's the deal with him being away all the time?"

Barbary laughed. "You want to talk about my grandfather? This date is so not what I expected."

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione seized her glass but unfortunately, there was nothing in there anymore. "First off," she said, setting it aside. "This is anything but a date and second, why wouldn't I want to hear about your grandfather; if he's rich enough to finance your exuberant way of life... perhaps he could finance mine, too. Care to introduce us?"

Barbary laughed. "I must disappoint you, he doesn't care about women; not even dolls as pretty as yourself."

"I see, how come?"

And just like that, Hermione learnt every little detail she needed to know about Charles Barbary. But did she walk to Bellatrix and inform her about it? Of course she didn't. She downed a couple of more shots, which only fueled her desire to make Bellatrix as angry as possible. Then, under the table with a confidence she'd never assumed she might possess, Hermione pretended to be looking for something in her bag and as the suspicionless Barbary waited, looking around, she pointed her wand at him and for the first time in her life cast an 'Obliviate'. There was no doubt in her mind that she had performed the spell just right as Barbary returned to the conversation they had had at the beginning and was now trying to persuade her to dance with him because he hadn't changed her mind about the flat Earth.

This time, Hermione agreed without putting up any resistance. Powered up by a couple more shots of whiskey, she let Barbary pull her toward the dancing pairs once again. Long gone was her sadness. She felt bloody amazing and she was bloody hammered but oh God, what a night to be alive.

They were just passing Bellatrix and her companion when someone smacked Hermione's bottom. It didn't bother her at all but Barbary stepped in front of her, immediately pulling out his wand and pointing it at a young man who held his hands up.

"Do it one more time and I swear you'll have no hands to cast spells with!" he gritted while Hermione stood beside him, covering her mouth to smother her laughter. All she could think about was that Bellatrix was there to witness the scene. What a night. What a night.

"I'm sorry, man!"

Barbary turned to Hermione. "Are you okay?"

She let her hand fall back to her side and, biting her lips, giggled. Somebody had learnt their lesson, she thought, but of course didn't say it out loud because Barbary couldn't remember anything of her speech. It didn't matter though. At least he'd tried to be a gentleman and over that simple fact, she instantly liked him more.

"Yeah... thanks, that was really sweet of you," she said, dragging her nails down his chest softly. It was flat and hard, so unlike what she imagined Blair's to be, but nevermind the difference—Bellatrix saw her getting affectionate with someone and that somehow made everything much more bearable.

"Of course," said Barbary, smirking. "If there's anyone touching that cute little butt tonight, it's gonna be me, no one else." With those words, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

The band was playing a cheerful tune now and even though Hermione could clearly imagine Blair pulling off the funniest and yet the most sensual choreography at the same time, she decided to push the thought to the back of her mind and become Blair herself just for this one moment. And so she let a wide smile blossom upon her lips, added her signature lip bite and Barbary seemed to be on cloud nine as she hadn't averted her eyes from his even once and was turning around him and touching him with the most fleeting of touches. Eventually, he gripped her waistline with both hands, pulling her so close to him that their breaths mingled intimately.

Entwining her fingers with his, Hermione began swaying her hips while gradually moving lower and lower. She was trying to get Barbary to do the same but laughed because he got stuck in the middle and complained about his bad knees. He pulled her up to him, their legs commingling; their burning bodies were against each other and Hermione closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Blair gripping her waist with so much possessiveness. Her hands slipped to Barbary's back, her nails sinking into his jacket. When a quick chorus came on, Barbary led her into a turn and another one and another until she began laughing in her drunken spinning daze. She almost fell but Barbary caught her and suddenly their lips were upon each other's. She could imagine it was Blair. She could try—but it wasn't working at all. Why wasn't it working? Hermione pulled back, furrowing her brows and looking into his darkened eyes briefly before grabbing at his neck and pulling him in again. She smashed their mouths together, trying harder to imagine. Still no emotion; and she desperately needed to feel something. And he wanted her—no one wanted her. Parting her lips, Hermione bit down onto his nether one in frustration, which made Barbary moan and grip her waist harder. Come on, why can't I feel it? Barbary's palms slipped, one to her neck, one into her hair, and he moved his head to the side, deepening the kiss which finally broke through Hermione's numbness. If only she liked it; why didn't she like it? Breaking away from him, she turned her head to the side, which Barbary misinterpreted as an invitation to overstep the boundaries and placed a wet, prickling kiss onto her skin.

At this point, Hermione's imagination failed her miserably and she didn't feel the need to try anymore.

Freeing herself from him, Hermione uttered she was heading for a restroom and set off through the dancing pairs, some of them twice as naughty as her and Barbary. She found the right door at the first try but she barely touched the handle when an arm came into her view, blocking her from entering. Hermione turned her head to the side, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes landed on Bellatrix. Perhaps it was the lighting, perhaps it was real but the witch looked even paler than usual, her eyes flaring like two molten flames. O—oh somebody's angry.

"Did you find out anything about the cup?" she asked, her voice threatening to tremble.

Hermione nodded, inwardly dancing with satisfaction. How do you like the feeling, Bellatrix?

"Well, well, well. If this isn't my lucky night." They both turned to the soft voice of Barbary, who was ambling towards them.

What was he doing here? Dear God, did he think Hermione was going to be waiting for him in the restroom?

"So this is the infamous Blair, huh," he added, eyeing Bellatrix up and down with this weird mixture of surprise and happiness.

How—why did he remember Blair? Pondered Hermione, more with curiosity than alarm. Hadn't she erased their argument about her from his mind? Oh well.

"Blair... clearly," said Bellatrix, her eyes jumping from Barbary to Hermione.

Hermione was too intoxicated to be concerned about Blair's name slipping from Bellatrix's lips. And why should she? It sounded so beautiful when she said it... And now, at least, she'd stop thinking she was the centre of Hermione's universe—because she wasn't. Blair was.

Barbary winked at Hermione. "Wouldn't you ladies like to join me? I could play some music for you. Then we could—"

Well, clearly, he didn't remember the argument about Blair at all, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested this. Well, at least some parts of their conversation were missing from his memory; hopefully that one about his gran—

Hermione's dress tightened around her back and it took her a lot not to throw up as she landed in her chamber after having endured the most uncomfortable sensation. There was no more smoke, no more colourful lights, no more music, only a terrible sensation of her head spinning.

Her knees buckled and she plopped onto the floor, right in front of her bed. There was a sound of something landing beside her and as soon as her world stopped moving, she turned her head, realising it was her coat and her beaded purse. Bellatrix must have taken them for her.

"What did you find out?" She heard her ask coldly. Hermione looked up. Bellatrix had her arms folded and was looking at Hermione with so much spite it looked like it could physically burn, which was somehow bloody hilarious, and all Hermione's doing. She held back laughter.

"Well?"

Hermione bit her lip but her shoulders shook.

Bellatrix twisted her lips. "What? What's so funny?"

"It's just that—uhm," said Hermione in between the smothered giggles. "You." She burst out laughing covering her face, then added, "I'm sorry, but you're so funny when you're angry." She lowered herself on her side onto the floor, letting more laughter out.

There was a momentary silence on Bellatrix's part. "Are you fucking drunk?!" she growled, inching closer. She kneeled down to the now openly giggling Hermione who was lying on her right arm, watching her. Bellatrix leaned over her and Hermione couldn't help blowing into her face shortly. Bellatrix recoiled, blinking; next second, her hand shot up, grasping Hermione's jaw so forcefully it made her lips part. She brought her face closer to Hermione's, granting her a perfect view on the tiny flecks of gold in her otherwise dark eyes that she'd never noticed before.

"Breathe out!"

Hermione pursed her lips as much as Bellatrix's cold fingers only allowed her and breathed out slowly. And in that weirdly electrifying moment she couldn't see any reason why she shouldn't just lift herself and kiss her. It would infuriate her even more and Hermione would finally feel what it was like to kiss someone she actually liked. Sure, she'd had a few sensual dreams about Blair, but those must have been all derived from the sensation of that one unwanted kiss Hermione had shared with Draco. It was nothing real. If only you hadn't pulled away that night, Blair, you could have been my first kiss. You, my Southern bell. Hermione wondered if Blair would get jealous if she saw her like this with Bellatrix. But she also wondered if Bellatrix would get jealous if she saw the dreams Hermione had had about Blair. Had she gotten jealous when she'd seen her making out with Barbary? Those kisses were no magic. Hermione was sure that if she kissed Bellatrix, there would be plenty of it; her kisses must feel a lot softer than Barbary's—hell, even if they didn't, even if Bellatrix bit her or did all sorts of wild things to her mouth with her mouth, Hermione was positive that if it came from her, she'd take it all.

Just show her what she's missing out on, Hermione; it's just a few inches.

Unfortunately, before Hermione could do anything, Bellatrix pulled back and leapt to her feet with curses leaving her mouth like an avalanche. When she was done, she snapped. "What did I tell you, what was the one thing I told you not to do and you fucking did it, anyway?!"

Hermione sat up, biting her nails. "Drink?" She whispered before raising her eyebrows innocently. Then she burst again.

"I'm gonna kill you, Granger! I swear, I'm this close to doing so!"

"No you're not. Come, sit down next to me!" Hermione patted the floor, grinning. "I'll tell you everything I know."

"If you gave us away—!"

"Nah, I obliviated him," said Hermione blithely. "Doesn't remember a thing, trust me!" At least Hermione hoped he didn't.

Bellatrix closed her eyes as if praying and gritted, "I don't have the nerves to deal with this." Then as she opened them, she added, "Just tell me what you found out so I can crucio you without fear of you losing memories."

She's just joking, thought Hermione, tilting her head. She looked down and began playing with the dress split on her thigh. "It's a secret, I'm gonna have to whisper it to you." She glanced at Bellatrix who really did seem prone to killing her soon.

"Spill it!"

"Uh uh, I can't say it out loud. The walls might hear me."

Bellatrix let out another tide of expletives. She seemed to be so done with Hermione; so done, Hermione thought she might curse her any second. To her surprise though, she settled on the floor opposite her. Wasting no time, Hermione got on all fours and, smiling, climbed forward, seating herself next to her. And it felt so good to be close to her, even though they weren't touching.

Hermione gave her profile a scrutinising look. "Why are you so angry?" she sang in a happy tune, her head lolling from side to side with each syllable. "Is it 'cause you can't stand me?"

Slowly, Bellatrix turned to her and for a second there, Hermione thought she was going to laugh, but it was as if Bellatrix caught herself and retightened her jaw.

"Ready?" asked Hermione, smiling wider.

"Like never before."

"Okay... but this might shock you."

"Will you tell me already or do you need some help getting the words out of your mouth?" asked Bellatrix in one breath, raising her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay! No need to bite my head off!" said Hermione. She wanted to pinch her cheek but Bellatrix slapped her hand away, which made Hermione pout. Bellatrix was visibly suppressing a smile now and it was the most delightful sight.

"Speak up already!" she said, her tone not as harsh anymore.

Hermione's stomach jumped as she leaned in and so she pressed the side of her palm to her cheek. It was smooth. So so smooth. And her hair felt and smelled like heaven even mixed up with the cigarette smoke from the bar. "He's an explorer!" she whispered.

Bellatrix pulled away, looking at Hermione as though she was an idiot while Hermione nodded her head seriously.

"That's your secret? That he's a damn explorer?"

"Shhh!" Hermione covered her eyes with her palms. When she removed them, Bellatrix's expression seemed to have softened. "He goes places; and the cup, he takes it everywhere with him, all his treasures, actually, because he's an old paranoid chap—well, that's what Barbary said."

Bellatrix's eyes were glued to Hermione's. "Where is he now?"

"No idea," shrugged Hermione, then smiled. "But I know where he's going to be in two days."

"Where?"

"Paris," she said softly, playing with a lock of her hair that spilled over her eyes. The alcohol in her blood was still making her feel strangely irresistible and she couldn't help biting her lip and subsequently hiding the gesture behind her shoulder. She raised her gaze to Bellatrix who seemed to have drawn back a little and smiled. "On rare occasions, The Louvre organises these 'painting tours'," she went on. "The old Barbary is obsessed with them and luckily for us, in two days, there's going to be a tour into 'The Embarkation for Cythera'. According to his grandson, Barbary would rather die than miss this."

Bellatrix didn't reply. She averted her eyes from Hermione, letting them run over the room.

Hating the lack of attention from her, Hermione cleared her throat. "Has this come to the point where we would have to... you know." Her voice reduced to whispering. "Steal from him?"

Bellatrix faced her again. "Yes, it has," she whispered back conspiratorially.

"Oh I just knew you'd say that." Hermione dropped her shoulders in defeat. "Why can't we buy it from him? Oh, I know, I know, he wouldn't sell it. Bummer."

A comfortable silence grew between them.

"Are you sure you obliviated him?" asked Bellatrix after a while.

"Positive."

"Why were you arguing?"

Hermione tugged at her lower lip. "What do you mean?"

"You hit him."

Letting out an angry sigh, Hermione slammed her hand against the floor. "Ugh, don't even remind me! He was being a jerk, suggesting me and—eh—" She took a deep breath, starting anew. "He just talked about women as if we were some objects willing to roll with whatever he says!"

Bellatrix smirked. "That is why you hit him?"

"Basically."

"According to that logic, you should have slapped every single one of those men, then," said Bellatrix, shifting as if she wanted to stand up.

"I would have but that first one really scared me," said Hermione quickly, unwilling to give up Bellatrix's company just yet.

Bellatrix paused. "Was there anyone else you talked to?"

"Yes, those two men," replied Hermione. "It was all along the lines of 'can I buy you anything' from that Greyback and that other man was only trying to be nice, oh I didn't catch his—"

"Greyback?" repeated Bellatrix, her eyes widening.

"Yeah he—"

"Did he touch you?"

Did he touch you? What kind of question was that? "No, he—wait, actually, yeah, he grabbed my arm because—"

"Where? Show me!"

Perplexed, Hermione extended her arm. The words that were on the tip of her tongue died as Bellatrix closed her hand over her wrist and brought it closer to her eyes. She was turning it from side to side, examining it, while running her cold fingers along Hermione's burning skin. Instantly, there was a rush of goosebumps which Bellatrix must have noticed but Hermione was too overwhelmed to care about it. Bellatrix's skin felt so soft and fragile as if she could dissolve into the air with the barest touch, and yet when her nails made contact with Hermione's skin, it was Hermione who felt like dissolving.

She watched in silence as Bellatrix's fingers trailed lower and lower until they paused at her forearm, exactly where the small splatter of her freckles resided. Her stomach jumped. Did Bellatrix like them? If only she liked them.

"Well, I can't see a scratch. You were lucky, muddy," concluded Bellatrix, letting Hermione's wrist slip from her grasp, and it fell into Hermione's lap like a rag.

"He's a werewolf, isn't he?" said Hermione after she had recovered. "His teeth..." She scrunched her nose, clamping her teeth together twice like a baby cheetah.

Bellatrix turned her head away from her but before she did, there was no mistaking the smile upon her lips. Hermione saw it clear as day and it made her extremely happy. When she turned back though, there was no emotion on her face. "Why the hell did you drink, Granger?" she asked.

"Because you told me not to."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I was angry with you!" said Hermione pointedly, closing her eyes. Perhaps it was the whiskey, perhaps the anger, but she felt a sudden need to lie down as the room around her began spinning.

"You were angry with me." She heard Bellatrix drawl. "Why, because I assumed you'd sleep with that musician? Aren't you a little hypocrite? If I hadn't come in time, you two would have been in the ladies' room at that moment, doing it."

How dare you! I wouldn't do it with anyone but Blair! And you. Wait...

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "No, we wouldn't have! I went there to—to get away from him, it's not my fault that he followed me."

"Spare me, I know your type far too well."

"My type!" breathed Hermione, leaning on her hands. "I've never been intimate with anyone and you think I would lose something as precious as my virginity to someone I just met?"

Bellatrix tilted her head, taking her time before saying, "Well, that explains why you're so frustrated. If you got it on once in a while, you—"

"I'm not frustrated because I'm not having sex!" blurted Hermione, her arms shaking under her weight. "I'm frustrated because—"

Because I'm madly in love with a woman who would never even see me as someone more than her friend's daughter! But how on Earth would you get it?!

"Because?"

"You don't deserve to know; there's no empathy in you so I'm not telling."

Bellatrix was looking at her as though debating whether or not to slap her but then asked, "Why were the two of you talking about me?"

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. "We weren't talking about you at all."

"Is that so? What about Blair, then? Who is she?"

My American Aphrodite; ethereal creature, as soft as a smile, as mild as a flower, lovelier than the starry sky—Hermione's stomach turned over, a spark of clarity entering her mind.

Oh no, no, no, she really shouldn't be talking about Blair.

"I uh," she started slowly. "Now that you mentioned it, I remember. I think I introduced you as Blair or Brielle, but he probably misheard." Hermione felt her mouth filling with saliva. This wasn't good. "Barbary—eh, he asked me who I was there with and I—" Hermione's stomach heaved again and there was no stopping this. She leapt to her feet and rushed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach down the toilet.

With tears in her eyes, she leaned her head against the seat, the marble floor cold against her naked leg. She'd drunk too much tonight. Far too much. A cold sweat washed over her as she retched and vomited again.

Hermione spat out the terrible acidic taste and flushed the toilet; then climbed toward the bathtub, blindly running the water and washing her face first before taking a few gulps. She needed to brush her teeth. She needed to brush her teeth so badly. But where was her toothbrush? On the sink. Why had she left it there when it was so far from here? With her eyes half-closed, Hermione crossed the one foot from the bathtub to the sink which felt like a mile to her, clumsily feeling for her dental supplies. Having found them, she put too much of her minty toothpaste on her toothbrush and moved back to the bathtub, where she, slumped over the edge, began brushing her teeth frantically.

She hoped Bellatrix hadn't seen her and she refused to even look at the door to find whether or not she'd managed to close it on her way in. It would be beyond embarrassing if she witnessed this imbroglio. Hermione held her breath, listening; there was silence in the room. Perhaps Bellatrix had left. If only she had left. She knew about Blair now; knew her name at least. Hermione couldn't get over how beautifully it sounded spoken with Bellatrix's posh accent. Still, she must do everything in her power to never hear it out of her mouth again. She must fix this... but she would do it tomorrow, the headache was too rapid.

Hermione leant her forehead against the cold bathtub with the toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

"How charming," came Bellatrix's voice from the door. Flinching, Hermione snatched the toothbrush away from between her numb lips and shoved it into the running water before splashing some of it on her face and rinsing her mouth. Meanwhile, Bellatrix had sat down on the bathtub next to her and as Hermione raised her eyes, she could see Bellatrix was sporting the same fake sympathy as she had back in Malfoy Manor.

"See, this is what happens when you don't listen, love," she said, pouting. "Doesn't feel good, does it?" She lowered herself down to Hermione, looking directly into her eyes, and she was so beautiful it made Hermione's stomach ache ten times worse. "Look at you, you poor, poor thing," she added softly. "Would you like me to help you to bed?"

Those words alone were enough to make Hermione's world spin more than any alcohol could. But then there was this faint pressure on her skin and the staggered Hermione realised that Bellatrix was trailing her nail down her neck and Hermione's breathing had somehow quickened and oh God, oh God, what was it Bellatrix doing? Why was she touching her like that? Touching her at all? Hermione broke out in a cold sweat. There was no stopping the audible gasp from escaping her lips as Bellatrix's cool palm closed over her throat, softly working its way up until her thumb slipped just below Hermione's parted lips, following their outline. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut and her chest rose and fell with quick little breaths. Bellatrix's fingers were travelling up her cheek now and strayed to Hermione's hair, tucking a few wet curls behind her ear with those long, torturous nails.

"Come," she whispered, taking Hermione's hand and Hermione automatically pressed her fingers into Bellatrix's pillow-soft skin. Kicking the high heels off, she got to her shaky feet, because that's what Bellatrix asked her to do; and right now, she'd do anything for her.

Bellatrix led her out of the bathroom and into the room, fleetingly putting her palm on her lower back as she walked her to the bed and helped her in. Hermione's head was spinning so badly and her heart raced like it was stuck on high speed, and she couldn't help thinking she must have passed out on the bathroom floor, perhaps from alcohol poisoning and she was just hallucinating because there was no way this could be really happening.

Leaning back, Hermione rested her head on one of the pillows. Her hand, however, was reluctant to leave Bellatrix's. If only she lay down next to her and just spent the night here, letting Hermione hold her freezing palm against her stomach as she was doing now.

"Better?"

"Why are you doing this for me?" asked Hermione, running her thumb over Bellatrix's knuckles. She would never dare to do that sober and even now it pushed an incredible amount of heat into her cheeks.

"Well, maybe I'm repaying you for taking care of me," replied Bellatrix. "I'm not as heartless as you may think," she added, gently freeing her hand and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Hermione stared at her in disbelief. Was she losing her mind or was she still in the bathroom, dreaming a bizarre dream?

"Now, promise me something, will you?"

Bewildered, Hermione had to take a moment and even after that, she was only capable of nodding.

"Don't ever ever drink again." Bellatrix ran her eyes over Hermione, who couldn't look anywhere else but at Bellatrix. "Look what it has done to you; not to mention what it might have done. You said you didn't intend to do anything with that musician but he clearly had his own idea—"

"No, no, of course I didn't," blurted Hermione, wanting to set things straight. "I went to the restroom because I felt uncomfortable with him."

"Did you? From my perspective you seemed to be enjoying his company quite a lot," said Bellatrix, putting a spare blanket over Hermione. The gesture was so sweet and was she... was she referring to Hermione and Barbary kissing? Could it be she was jealous? Could she actually see Hermione like that? Hermione's drunken heart seemed to have stopped beating altogether at the possibility.

"I wasn't."

Bellatrix seemed hurt as she locked their eyes. "Then why did you kiss him?"

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. This cannot be. This cannot be!

"Because I," she started slowly. "I wanted to see..."

"Wanted to see what it's like with a man?" finished Bellatrix as Hermione failed to do so.

Blushing, Hermione shook her head. "No, I'd already kissed a boy. Well, a boy kissed me, but—" Draco, specifically, but Bellatrix didn't need to know the details. She'd most likely get mad and that would do her no good even though she was funny like that. "I guess, I just did it because I missed... someone," said Hermione lowly, feeling a sudden urge to tell Bellatrix everything about Blair but she couldn't do that, could she?

"Why don't you visit that someone then?" asked Bellatrix.

Hermione turned to lie on her side, facing her. "I can't, I promised I wouldn't leave."

Bellatrix's lips twitched. "Who did you promise?" she asked, moving closer and placing her hand on Hermione's knee, stroking it gently.

"I..." began Hermione, looking down, her insides on fire.

"Yes?" Bellatrix's palm moved higher, gliding up her thigh and her hip, pausing on her waist. She neared a bit closer, gently pressing down with her hand and making Hermione lie on her back. Then she leaned over her and Hermione's stomach clenched painfully as the scent of her spilling locks filled the air around them.

She was too drunk, too worn out to wait for more to make sure Bellatrix was actually being suggestive. Her hand moved on its own as it made its way to Bellatrix's bicep before meandering up, and drowning in the cold softness of that lustrous hair, which felt like running water against her famished skin.

Bellatrix didn't seem to mind as she inched forward, Hermione's eyes fixed on her crimson lips.

"You want it, don't you? Well... I want something, too," whispered Bellatrix sensually, brushing their noses. They were so close Hermione could taste her breath which caused the hairs on her body to stand on end, sending electricity down her spine. There was no fighting it. Moaning, she tore herself away from the pillow, trying to ease the longing building up in the pit of her stomach but Bellatrix pulled away, placing her hand on Hermione's neck, her sharp nail resting on her jugular.

"Slowly, love," she cooed. "First you need to tell me that name. Then, you can have it."

Hermione was breathing hard, staring at Bellatrix, a bitter disappointment covering everything inside her with frost. Her hand fell against the blanket. Bellatrix was just trying to get information from her; she hadn't been jealous of Barbary, she didn't like her at all; she was just playing her and the stupid Hermione let her.

Bellatrix removed her hand from her neck, trailing her nails down her chest and it felt so damn good...

But Hermione just couldn't tell her. Even though she felt delirious for her, she couldn't betray Dumbledore. Besides, Bellatrix didn't want her, she was just being a little bitch trying to sell herself for a piece of information. Hermione shouldn't want her, she just shouldn't... but she did. Like crazy.

"I can't!" She placed her shaking hand over Bellatrix's, stopping her just below Hermione's breasts.

"Surely you can," purred Bellatrix, her teeth sinking into her juicy lips. It was painful to watch but Hermione couldn't tear her eyes from her. "Tell me their name and then, it's just you and me," she added silkily before lowering herself and whispering in her ear. "Whatever you want me to do to you, I'll do it."

There were goosebumps all over Hermione's body now and her stomach and lungs hurt like clawing talons.

"All night long," breathed Bellatrix before her teeth nibbled at Hermione's jaw. And dear God, were those her lips? Hermione moaned into her hair, feeling the slickness of arousal on her thighs. She squeezed Bellatrix's hand harder, seizing her arm with her other hand, trying to pull her down to her, but Bellatrix didn't let her.

"The name..."

"I can't," cried Hermione, tears forming in her eyes. Resisting Bellatrix felt like dying and in a way, Hermione would swear some part of her was. She wanted her so much, almost as much as she wanted Blair. And she was here, doing all these things to her. If only Hermione could tell her that damned name, they could... but then wouldn't she just use her like a cheap slut? Bellatrix was so much more than that, so much more... and Hermione could show her, pour all the love she felt for Blair into her and then...

And then, Dumbledore's plan would fail. She couldn't do this! Pull yourself together, Hermione. Force some responsibility into that drunk head of yours.

"Don't," she let out, squeezing her eyes shut. She forced herself to sit up, making Bellatrix do the same, headache hitting her full blast now. She was still gripping Bellatrix's hand and her head was still spinning and she could still feel every single touch. Tomorrow she was not going to believe what had happened here. Bellatrix had actually made a pass on her and it had yet to sink in as real.

Opening her eyes, Hermione looked at Bellatrix, her cheeks aflame. Smirking, the witch leaned forward, but with an iron will, Hermione turned her head away. "I said no," she said resolutely.

There was a moment of silence. Then, wrenching her hand from Hermione's grasp, Bellatrix leapt to her feet.

"Stupid girl, don't go thinking for a second I would actually touch you," she spat with a repulsed grunt. Her cruel eyes ran up and down Hermione's body. "Now I'm going to have to scrub my skin off so as not to feel your hands on me anymore. God, I feel disgusting," Granting Hermione one last hateful look, she spun around and stormed off, slamming the door behind her.

Hermione stared after her, grasping at her hurting stomach. She plopped back onto the pillows, tears oozing down her cheeks like two rivers. She felt so stupid and sickened with herself. How on Earth could she have been so naive and fallen into Bellatrix's trap like that? Did she have a sponge for a brain? She'd known it was just a trick on Bellatrix's part but she'd gone with it anyway!

Hermione clawed at her skin, trying to erase the feeling of Bellatrix's curls slipping over her neck, but her memory wasn't willing to do her the courtesy.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had always known that she had a soft spot for Bellatrix, she'd just never known how soft exactly. And it was so scary to even think that Bellatrix was capable of drawing such profound feelings from her. But then, it was nothing but damned lust. And Hermione was drunk. Perhaps she wouldn't feel like that when sober. She better not. Bellatrix didn't deserve her affection. She was the most wicked human that Hermione knew, a bloody dementor sucking people around her of every bit of happiness.

She hated her so so much. And she hated herself, with the same force.

Curling into a ball of despair, she let out a strangled sob. Blair would never do such a thing to her. She'd never play with her emotions like that. When Maxim had come into her life, she had even waited four months to share such, for her amazing, news with Hermione's mom because she knew the first thing Jean would do would be to tell Hermione. Blair was sensitive enough to at least try to spare her the pain. She was kind—the polar opposite of Bellatrix—and yet there, just a couple of minutes ago, she had felt for Bellatrix the same longing she had only ever felt for Blair.

Hermione bit into her pillow, crying harder. She didn't want to feel that way about Bellatrix; couldn't go through the same thing all over again. Especially not with her. She just couldn't.

Exhausted by the emotional and physical pain, Hermione slowly cried herself to a dreamless sleep.

The next morning came like a punch in the face. Hermione woke up with the worst sickness she had ever experienced. Her head felt like it had been removed from her neck, thrown under the stampede of wildebeests and then returned to her body. The room around her was still spinning as she tried sitting up and so with a pained groan, she instantly ended up back on the pillows. Her mouth felt dry like a desert and her stomach was loudly demanding food.

But the worst feeling came when the memories of the previous night flooded in.

Bellatrix. She... she... Hermione's stomach turned over.

Had she...? Yes she had.

And had she really...?

Oh no... no, no, NO!

The world was suddenly spinning faster. If only that terrible nausea would subside to let her think clearly. Collecting all her strength, Hermione rolled over, glancing down from the bed. Her purse wasn't there. But where it was then? It took her a while to remember Bellatrix had thrown it onto the floor at its foot last night. Crawling to the edge, not even caring her butt was all out as the dress had ridden up her waist while she slept, Hermione blindly untangled the purse from her coat and drew out her wand from its pocket before summoning the sobering potion. And there she was, a couple of months ago, debating whether to pack it with her or not.

It had taken thirty drops of the potion for the headache to go away, ten more for the bedroom to stop spinning, but unfortunately, there were not enough drops to erase the mounting burden of shame that had gathered in the pit of her stomach.

How could Hermione have messed up like that? How?

The fact that she had allowed a complete stranger to touch her in such an intimate way was profoundly embarrassing to her. The memory of Barbary's lips on hers made her feel so dirty and so disappointed in herself, principally because to her, kissing wasn't just something she'd do for fun with whoever happened to be standing next to her at the moment. It was something beautiful and sacred she only wanted to experience with a person that meant something to her.

And yesterday, she'd wasted her first time of that sacredness on a man who was a decade older than her and who meant absolutely nothing to her. All because she needed to feel wanted, which she subsequently did, but by someone who wasn't Blair, so therefore rather than bringing at least a bit of comfort, the interaction had left her frustrated and sad, with longing twice as difficult to bear.

It sickened Hermione to the core that she had exploited herself like that and she wished for nothing more than to be able to take everything back, erase his touches because they felt so very wrong...

Unfortunately, she couldn't.

What she also couldn't take back was the fact that yesterday something utterly unimaginable had happened between her and Bellatrix. That wicked woman who constantly acted as though touching Hermione cost her extreme allergic reactions had seemed to have forgotten all about it as she'd literally offered herself for an exchange of information. She'd touched Hermione in a way no one ever had before, and Hermione hated herself for having responded to her like soft butter to a knife, only to get spat on next moment.

The whole situation was so awfully embarrassing, Hermione was sure she could never look into Bellatrix's eyes ever again. Now she knew Hermione had a thing for her even though she'd told her on numerous occasions she hadn't. And now she even knew about Blair, in a way.

Hermione would like to punch herself in the face. How could she have been so reckless and fucked up like this, all because she'd wanted to make Bellatrix angry? How could she ever forgive herself for hazarding like this? She hung her shoulders down, sighing. Why did everything always have to backfire on her end? Perhaps deliberate vengeance never worked in one's favour...

Yeah, next time, better let karma sort everything out.

Hermione stayed in bed for the better part of an hour before finally heading for the shower. She tried her best to wash her guilt and shame off of herself but unfortunately, the only thing that came off was her smeared mascara. The fact that the whole thing with Bellatrix had started right there was definitely one of the reasons why.

All clean now, Hermione returned to the bed, which had already been made by Billey and who'd left her a tray with food on her nightstand. It was almost eleven a.m. Bellatrix didn't show up for the rest of the day but Hermione wasn't complaining. She really needed some time to process everything and try to forgive herself before facing that fille de joie.

Still, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered what was going to happen next. The tour to 'The Embarkation for Cythera' was tomorrow. Perhaps Bellatrix would decide to go on her own—perhaps she had been drinking a bit herself last night and now felt uncomfortable to see Hermione, too, because of what she'd done.

As it turned out the next day, Bellatrix didn't.

It was something past five pm. Hermione was sitting in an armchair by the half-open window through which came from the garden the soft scent of the chocolate cosmos that she'd admired many times before but had never had a chance to see up close. She was reading 'The Gifts Of Imperfection' which she almost dropped at the sound of the door opening, followed by Bellatrix's clicking of heels. Despite her heartbeat growing faster, Hermione kept her eyes on the page, intending to ignore Bellatrix, or better, be just as mean as her if she needed to.

But lo and behold, Bellatrix acted as if nothing had happened, asking Hermione without any foreword to change into more appropriate clothes for the exploration. Why, Hermione didn't understand, for as far as her peripheral vision allowed her to see, Bellatrix herself was wearing her usual black dress which was anything but appropriate. Since she had no intention of picking up a fight though, she set her book aside and stood up without a word.

Hermione took her beaded purse from her nightstand and set off for the bathroom, never looking at Bellatrix once—she didn't want to see the reality of previous events reflecting in her eyes as she felt like it would only make them all the more true and embarrassing. If Bellatrix didn't bring them up, she was more than happy to pretend everything was just a figment of her imagination, too.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Hermione kneeled onto the floor. She had no idea about the plan Bellatrix had contrived to rob poor Mr Barbary, but she was sure it was going to be dangerous as hell. There were going to be around fifteen more people beside them and Hermione doubted there wouldn't be one person at least who wouldn't notice something weird going on as she and Bellatrix would attempt to steal something from an old man.

Wow, that sounded so immoral even unspoken.

Rubbing her face, Hermione tried to push the thought to the back of her mind for the sole reason of it making her already feel guilty and nervous which was a good enough warning sign not to do this but could Hermione say no to Bellatrix? Hardly. Besides, stressing about something that hadn't even happened (yet) was stupid and unnecessary; maybe Bellatrix could reconsider... Yeah right, as if she'd ever done that before...

Hermione glanced at her purse. She needed to hurry. Now, what should she wear? The weather in the painting seemed warm enough for a short-sleeved shirt, and she had this small travelling backpack she'd had at the Malfoys' last summer. That could look believable. Perhaps she could stuff it with a few items from her purse. A set of warm clothes and some healing potions to have near at hand as there was a high probability they'd need it if they had to fight their way through. But then, if they got caught, the healers at Azkaban would take care of them just the same...

Don't think about that!

Hermione entered the bedroom, having changed her clothes and carrying a backpack on her back. She kept her jaw locked, looking anywhere but at Bellatrix. As she walked further in, a thought dawned on her, that at some point they'd have to touch, and she immediately felt her face redden.

"We're going to use Floo powder," said Bellatrix coldly as if hearing her thoughts, then turned on her heel and marched out the door. Strangely relieved, Hermione followed. It had been such a long time since she'd been anywhere else in the house except for her bedroom. Looking around the high walls, her eyes involuntarily paused on Bellatrix, whose hair was slightly bouncing off her back as she walked down the long corridor.

Damn, Hermione could not believe they—

Abruptly Bellatrix stopped and so as not to crash into her, Hermione did, too. Bellatrix was looking to their right, where a massive ornamented door had been left slightly ajar, an odd scratchy sound coming from behind it. After staring at it for a couple of seconds, she averted her eyes to Hermione who, even despite the dimly lit space, felt her cheeks getting too hot for her liking.

"Go to the office and wait for me there," she whispered. "It's the door on the left at the end."

Confused, Hermione blinked a couple of times before willing herself to move. What was going on? Why was Bellatrix whispering? Reluctantly, Hermione set off through the corridor. Half-way through, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Bellatrix must have entered.

Cautious as she was, Hermione couldn't help pausing after a couple more steps.

There were voices coming through that door; angry voices. Bellatrix's and... who was that? Could it be Rodolphus? Hermione thought carefully about her next move but eventually stepped back, tiptoeing toward the argument. She couldn't make out the meaning of the words that were being said, but the voices were definitely picking up the volume.

Hermione risked getting closer to the door. Subsequently, she recoiled at a loud crashing sound coming from the inside.

"You're sick! SICK! How dare you—?!" She heard Bellatrix yell full force now.

"How do you think it made me feel?" A male voice shouted over her. "We've been married for eighteen years and we've slept together once, Bella! ONCE! You act all hurt, but if you weren't so stubborn, it could have been you who—"

"Shut your mouth, you filthy animal!" Bellatrix yelled back at her husband. "No one disgusts me as much as you do! I'd rather die than let you touch me ever again!"

"Obviously!" bellowed Rodolphus. "You wouldn't do it with me but you go looking for it everywhere else. That harlot is no different than you!"

"Fuck you!" yelled Bellatrix, series of banging noises emerging through the door.

Rodolphus began laughing now, the sound so disturbing Hermione's spine erupted in goosebumps. "But you already have, my darling! Through her, I've had you in every way I wanted! I know every inch of your scrumptious little bod—!"

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" screamed Bellatrix, more explosive sounds coming through, one louder than the other.

Hermione's heart beat like a drum. She knew she should do something before—

Rodolphus screamed, "NO BELLA, STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL US BOTH!"

The loudest explosive sound thundered inside, followed by deafening silence.

It took Hermione only a second to unfreeze and throw the door open. She couldn't help a horrified gasp from escaping her lips as she stepped inside. The entire room was in chaos. A cloud of powdery white dust was slowly falling down at the broken pieces of furniture covering the floor. The window opposite her was hanging on its hinges right over the crying Rodolphus Lestrange, who was lying underneath the debris, trembling, his face covered in blood. Hermione had to help him! But there was a movement to her left and upon turning in its direction, she saw Bellatrix leaning against the wall, her neck soiled with blood, too.

Without thinking, the terrified Hermione rushed to her but before she could say or do anything, Bellatrix grabbed her arm and Hermione found them Apparating.

She had no idea where they landed, but it didn't matter because Bellatrix crumbled to the wooden floor, breathing hard and looking worse than before. Had she...? Had she splinched? No, no, no! Hermione got to her knees. She removed her backpack from her back, trying to get to its inside pocket but Bellatrix gripped her hand tighter.

"Cast protective spells around the house, go on, quickly," she half-whispered, obviously in a lot of pain. Hermione's heart clenched at the sight, her eyes filling with tears.

"First, you need to drink—" she started but Bellatrix interrupted her.

"Do as I say!"

Hermione didn't listen as she unzipped the pocket with her trembling hands. "There's a healing potion that—" She tried to fish it out of the pocket but Bellatix pushed her away.

"I'll find it, you cast the spells!"

Reluctantly, Hermione turned around, complying and casting all the protective spells she could think of. When she turned back, Bellatrix was lying on the floor, her eyes closed.

Hermione's wand slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor. She felt physically sick. What had happened? Bellatrix was supposed to feel better, wasn't she?!

But then, Bellatrix's eyes fluttered and opened again. Relieved, Hermione watched them run over the ceiling for a couple of moments before Bellatrix shifted, trying to get to her knees.

"You shouldn't move!" said Hermione quickly, hastening to her and searching her backpack for her purse. They were going to need more potions. "Try to lie down and I—" There was a moment when their eyes locked and Bellatrix brought her hand up to touch Hermione's cheek.

It made Hermione's breath hitch in her throat.

"You..."

"You need to lie down for a second, I need to find Dittany!" said Hermione firmly, moving further away from her. Bellatrix's hand fell against the floor.

"Are you going to lie down with me?"

"Wh—I, no, don't worry, I wouldn't—" blurted Hermione, remembering the last time they had had a conversation of a similar tune.

"But I want you to... now!" In a second, Bellatrix pulled herself from the floor, seizing Hermione's shoulders and toppling both herself and Hermione over. Hermione's back hit the floor painfully, Bellatrix's body falling on top of her, the smell of blood hitting her nostrils. What was happening? What was Bellatrix doing? She was going to injure herself even more! With her stomach clenching, Hermione used all her strength to roll them over. Leaping to her feet, she backed away.

"Stay here!" protested Bellatrix, trying to crawl toward her. "You can't leave me!"

Hermione's eyes widened, her heart breaking. "I'm not going anywhere but I—"

"You're trying to leave me, aren't you?!"

"No!"

"Yes, you are! But you're mistaken if you think I'll allow you!" Bellatrix had her wand in her hand now, pointing it at Hermione, who dropped to the floor just in time before the red flash of a spell could hit her chest. Quickly, she lunged for her own wand that she'd dropped earlier, deflecting another spell rushing after her. It bounced off the wall and flew toward the window, breaking it to pieces.

Had Bellatrix gone mad?!

"Please, I'm not going anywhere! What is it with you!" cried Hermione.

"Me?! What is it with you! You don't love me anymore!" Bellatrix began shooting spells at her, and while trying to block them, the bewildered Hermione had to crawl behind a nearby wall to save her skin.

You don't love me anymore?! What the hell?!

Bellatrix's spells were getting more aggressive with each time and Hermione concluded she'd have to knock her out to protect both of them from her tantrum. It was imperative she had her wounds inspected and healed. Despite those injuries though, Bellatrix fought with an admirable will and it had taken Hermione five tries before finally hitting her in the arm with the Stunning spell.

Having waited a moment, Hermione crawled from behind the wall. Seemingly unconscious Bellatrix was lying face up, a thin stream of blood coming out of her nose. Hermione's eyes slid from her face to her arm where a small, empty bottle was resting on the floor. But that—that wasn't the Healing potion!

Shit, what was it that Bellatrix had drunk?

You don't love me anymore...

All of a sudden, the revelation hit Hermione like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of her. The night before the pureblood's ball last summer; the designer who had made the dress for her at the Malfoys', Vittorio—on his way out, he had forced something into her hand, a potion which Hermione had put into this specific bag that was now lying at her knees.

Bellatrix must have drunk it instead of...

She must have drunk the bloody love potion, an experimental love potion, that hadn't even been approved by the Ministry and that must be at least eight months expired!

Hermione's widened eyes looked at Bellatrix, an incredible amount of fear forming inside her stomach.

She was screwed. Completely screwed.

---

A/N: Hey, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! As always the biggest thank you goes to Irymia for being an angel and editing this long chapter! And of course, all of you for keeping up with the story, it means the world to me!

This is the first time in two years (at least I think it's been two years) that I managed to update before Christmas and now I'm at a loss of words so I'll keep it simple.

I'd like to wish you all, the most magical Christmas you've ever had and even more magical New Year all the way to the next year! See you in 2020!

All my love, AP