A/n: So, been a while sorry about that. Obviously as you are aware Curfew is up and it has brought back a mojo. I am also house bound due to Covid-19 so bored and lots of time on my hands. I finally managed to find time for this beauty. An extra long chapter too as a peace offering. Anyway enjoy won't make any promises when the next chapter for this will follow if I have anyone still here reading that is. In the mean time please stay safe.

Warning: this story will deal with violence, sexual mentions and rated only for adults. Swearing & death. This story will contain mentions of mental illnesses, self harm and suicide. Please, please read responsibly. I will put the major warning before each chapter so you know what to expect.

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable characters and No money has been made from this.

CHAPTER WARNING: Mentions of rape and torture, self harm. Blood and swearing.

Enjoy...


Chapter Eighteen

Revelations

"How hurtful it can be to deny one's true self and live a life of lies just to appease others."

June Ahern

Little beads of blood pave a path down the pale arm, it would normally cause her glee. Would usually make her cackle maybe throw a joke in about how her blood is filthy. Now though, it makes her stomach churn, the action anything but entertaining. The action speaks of desperation, crazed eyes seeking some resolution.

Perhaps, trapped once more in a prison has made her vulnerable, she promised herself she would never be caught again. Not alive anyhow, a backup, poison to end her life. She will never step foot back in Azkaban, would never see those creatures again. Dark Lord or no Dark Lord, she would kill herself before allowing the chains to grace her wrists.

This is far from Azkaban, far from the rotting hell hole in the middle of the ocean. This prison is almost pleasant, she can deal with the sneers from the guards. She cannot deal with the desperation, the pain and the fear emanating from her mudblood. Her plucky mudblood, using anything to secure herself, to trap herself to prevent the monster from revealing itself.

Watching those brown depths filled with too much emotion, too much hope. How does one little thing carry so much emotion? So much hope, it confuses Bella, now filled with frustration. Desperation. The knowledge stored in muddies brain, too much some might argue. Not enough in Granger's case, Bella doubts the mudblood knowledge will ever be enough. She envies her passion. The thirst for answers. It reminds her of her old days, seeking another answer. Seeking knowledge, it led her down the wrong path.

Snorting, she knows the path was always set in stone, she was always meant to follow Tom. Always. The actions carried out in her Lord's name, her saviour's name, that's what she thought him. Back when he stood in her father's study, his calculating gaze. His overpowering presence. She worshipped him. Adores him.

Loves him.

His ideas, intelligence, sacrificed so much for him, everything for her Lord. Her child, her sanity, her body and still it was never enough. He needed more from her, always wanting more from her. Expected more from her, more than humanly possible. They all did, her family looking to her for strength, resolution. They always needed her, she obliged, how could she not? They were family, are family. It didn't matter if she lost the love of her life, didn't matter she lost out on the chance to become a mother. That her daughter would recoil in disgust at the idea of Bellatrix being her mother. Who wouldn't? Her daughter would expect her to change, to become an upstanding citizen, would never accept her crimes.

Her Lord, he expects her to be there at every turn. Even now, her mark burns, his demand to return, his disappointment at her actions. Even now she seeks the Moses for him, always. To return him to full power. If only Granger new the real reason they were here, she would leave. Using the barbed wire to cut her wrists instead of trying to use it secure herself.

Even now, as Bella watches from the only bed, their crude little bed supported by chains. Their one blanket, she watches Granger wind the barbed wire around her delicate wrist. Ignores the pain, the blood that trickles and splashes against the mould covered stones. The only thing Granger can use as some sort of restraint. Because she's terrified of turning, of becoming the monster underneath.

It strikes Bella even now, through sick fascination as the blood continues to drip and the smell of iron tints their small space. That Granger isn't doing this for herself, that she's not panicking because of the jailers currently laughing at her predicament. She doesn't fear death, because that's what awaits her if she turns tonight. Death. Regardless if Bella lives, they will slit Granger's throat. If she's lucky they won't rape her before so.

If Bella's lucky the werewolf will kill her, before the jailer's rape her too. Too many times she's been in this situation, usually, she is the jailer, leaving the Lestrange brothers, Greyback or others to guard their captives. Turned a blind eye to the screams, the shouts. Even in torture, rape sounded different. A distinctive scream, she can imagine what Rod would do to Granger. The dream still fresh in her mind could imagine the screams from Granger's lips.

Swallowing, she looks away from her plucky mudblood, because it hurts. Hurts to watch Granger defile her own body in the hopes to protect Bella. Wanting to protect the witch who kidnapped her? She worries about Granger's sanity, worries about her own.

No one…

The thought trails off because she cannot allow it to manifest, for it to stir other questions. A dangerous hazard when trapped, when no longer walking. What did Granger call her the other day? A shark? Unable to stop swimming, fear of drowning. She supposes the mudblood isn't wrong, it terrifies Bella. The thoughts that swim out of focus, buried in her depths. Even now they stir, with every gasp of pain as Granger winds the wire tighter. Every deep breath, she hears it all, it echoes so loudly in their tight jail.

Stop!

The urge to scream at the witch, well it's overwhelming. Bella can imagine it would have the opposite effect if anything she will scare the witch into hurting herself permanently.

Stop… For fuck sake Granger I'm not worth the effort.

IT's the startling truth, Bella isn't worth this much effort. Despite her bravado, despite the confidence, Bella knows her crimes, knows her secrets are enough to mean death. Only a painful death awaits her now. She just hopes she can change something along the way. This though, this painful torture subjected to by Granger. It's too much, she cannot stand the murmurs, the breathless gasp the tears in the eyes.

She should be gleeful. But her famous vindictive tongue remains trapped by clenched teeth.

Stop.

Not even her family, her lover, her Lord or her friends have tried this hard to save Bella. Only this plucky little mudblood, too scared to harm another. Too… caring to hurt another. Her plucky mudblood, her bloody clover wanting to save Bella. Save Bella from the creature within and yet it should be Bella saving Granger. Saving her from the creature within when did the tables turn? When did Granger become the hunter and Bella the measly prey?

Who are these filthy bastards who dare to laugh at her plucky mudblood? Who points and laugh, shout vile names? It stirs her monster and she's rising to her feet. Moving across the small jail towards her plucky mudblood.

"Stop, stop." Bella orders clutching Granger's free hand. "Fucksake, Granger stop."

"I can't…" Granger is practically vibrating, shaking with fear. "I'll kill you."

There it is, the universal truth, Granger too scared to kill Bella. Even now, after everything, Bella has subjected the witch too, even now Granger wants to protect Bella. Stop.

She clutches the wrist tighter, cupping Granger's cheek with her free hand. Ignores the blood trickling across her clenched fingers, the warm liquid trailing down Bella's hand. Dripping to the ground, she presses her forehead against Granger's. Eyes screwed tight.

"Stop." Bella whispers. "Just stop."

"I… I."

"I know. I know." Bella murmurs can feel Granger's thundering heartbeat beneath her fingertips. "This won't help."

"I don't want to hurt you." It's a confession, a whisper of the truth.

Why? I'm not worth this.

"You won't." Bella promises, is being put out of her misery classed as hurting?

"I will, I'll turn and…"

"Hush."

Still shaking, Bella pulls the witch into her chest, resting her head on top of Grangers. Aware that the witch is slowly outgrowing her in height, that soon Granger will become taller. Slowly, she unravels the wire, ignores the wolf-whistling from the perverted jailers. Tries to ignore the squelch as the wire plucks Granger's raw skin.

"I'll get us out… Trust me."

She's going to kill them. All the jailer's and she won't make it quick. She'll just need a distraction and thankfully, Granger is halfway to making one.

~~~~~ ADITM ~~~~~

"Well that's just showing off," is the unamused comment.

Chuckling, Hermione turns to what has the dark witch distracted. Covering the tops of her eyes she squints smirking as goats jump alongside the mountain as though it is hopscotch. It's a sight she wishes she had her dad's camera for, something you only see in tv documentaries.

Hermione tries her best to ignore Bellatrix, who attempts to knock one of the goats off with a stone. The distance between them and the goats are a few miles and the stones drop down into the canyon below. They don't even hear them reach the bottom, it's how high they are. How terrifying high they are. Perhaps not the best time to inform Bellatrix of her fear of heights. Maybe she will never tell the dark witch, she doesn't need to give her any more ammunition to wind Hermione up.

Sighing, Bellatrix turns her boredom to a nearby spider trying to hit that instead with the stones. It's almost like trying to amuse a child, Hermione thinks to herself. Especially here in the dry landscape surrounded by mountains, rocks and nothing else.

Her mind still travels to Bellatrix's cunning behaviour however long ago it was, getting them out of the jail. Before Hermione turned, watching the witch fight was both terrifying and a marvel. An unarmed Bellatrix is perhaps more dangerous than an armed Bellatrix. It ended with blood despite Hermione's attempts to save the jailers.

"What day is this?" Bellatrix asks dumping the rest of the stones.

"Sixteen?"

"Thought it was seventeen?"

"Sixteen dawns, I swear," Hermione mutters, she's not sure.

There is nothing here, no sign of life except for the lizards, spiders and goats. No sign of another human being, other than Bellatrix who is questionable at the best of the times. Just rocks, upon rocks, blaring sun and silence. A reflective silence that even their footsteps and the falling of rocks become lost in. It's relaxing as well as daunting, they are nothing but dots in the landscape. It makes her feel so small among the mountains.

Their walking brings solitude, reflection and some banter. She vows never to take up hiking while wishing she could visit again. The sights breath-taking, the hidden waterfalls, the starry nights and beautiful sunsets. Even Bellatrix struggles to bring a dampener on their predicament.

Their rucksacks heavy, their backs aching, her ankles swollen. Bellatrix's feet rubbed raw, bleeding beneath the socks. The water supplies limited, they must search between their trek, for water. Rationing a must, their food dwindling to a few bars. It's dire, terrifying because here, magic doesn't work. Hermione had to learn from Bellatrix how to light a fire with flint. Work together to climb down the sides of mountains to reach any water supply. Hoping against hope that's it's not contaminated by any mining.

Now there is no magic, no do-overs. If they fall, if they break a bone, catch an infection or even a concussion. It will mean their death. Their packs filled with muggle necessities, muggle first aid. Spray that only starves off small wounds. They cannot heal themselves, cannot apparate, they must trek along the winding mountain up the sides of mountains, down to depths of a canyon. Choosing the safest paths. Working together, to climb, to scale and survive.

Time lost in this dangerous paradise, the option to turn back three climbs back. The hope to find water is becoming crucial, because they are on their last drops. The sun burning at fifty degrees, scorching their skin. She thanks Merlin, Bellatrix managed to secure their rucksacks, thanks to Merlin that the charm making their packs bigger on the inside remains. That the weight is nothing compared to real hidden weight.

"They're heading the way we're going," Bellatrix states watching the goats once more. "See there, the canyon merges."

"They're heading downwards." Hermione agrees.

"Water."

"Water."

They breathe the word at the same time, relief that the goats maybe proving their theory right. That the trek they chose leads towards the water. She hopes against hope that they're right.

Rising to her feet, she secures her hat once more, lifting her makeshift trekking pole in place. She borrowed Bellatrix's dagger on the second day whittling her a large fallen branch into a trekking pole. From some where Bellatrix produced an axe, cutting more branches creating and allowing Hermione to create two trekking poles each.

It saved them numerous times on their journey taking the weight off their backs, ensuring the sides of mountains were secure. Allowing them to help the other across the treacherous ground. Her uncle would be proud of her carpentry, after all, he taught her when she used to go to her cousin's house. When the top of the pops was boring, and she wanted to do something more. He would take her help in the shed, to help craft for his work.

Bellatrix leads the way, towards what they hope is salvation for a few more days. They pass a skeleton remains of a large animal; she hopes it won't be them. Hopes they face another future.

They march in silence energy preserved for their walking, to focus on putting one foot in front of another. It's a time like these she wishes she could turn to her other form, only appearing on the fifth night. Not again since she suspects Bellatrix is right the climate too hot for the werewolf to appear.

Dropping to her knees, she easies herself under the overhanging boulder, the rocks slipping over the edge. She learnt not to look, to ignore the deep descent. Groaning, she pushes back to her feet shuffling the bag on her back. Bellatrix ahead, glancing backwards to ensure Hermione is following, not that the witch can go anywhere.

"Here!"

The shout jolts her few hours into their journey, the sun beginning its slow descent. The night is dawning, they will have to stop soon for fear of losing their footing in the dark. Joining, Bellatrix at the edge, peering over to the source of the witch's excitement.

Miles down, she could guess a thousand feet maybe more, they will have to pick their way down. She can feel Bellatrix thinking, deciding if it's worth descending tonight or if to rest.

"Start early?" Hermione asks lips dry and cracking.

"We'll have to."

They have no choice, moving from the edge, they find a spot to roll out their sleeping bags, no need for a fire tonight. No need for a tent not with this temperature. Sipping the remains of her water, Hermione watches the sun slowly set marvelling at the beauty of nature. Digging in her rucksack for her tin of beans, starving, she eats. Once hating the cold tomato taste, she licks the tin clean now.

It's late as they star gaze full from their meals, watching the shooting stars rush past. Arms folded behind her head, Hermione feels almost tranquil, at peace, even with the dark witch lying near her.

"What do you miss most?" Bellatrix asks quietly, watching the stars.

"Food."

"No shit," Bellatrix grumbles throwing a pebble size stone at her Hermione.

"Hey!"

"A home comfort, come on, I need your dull tones to lure me to sleep."

"Sod off," Hermione grumbles catching the smile of Bellatrix's lips. "I don't know maybe my cat. It's reassuring…"

A loud snore interrupts her talking, Hermione manages to place a good hit on the witch's stomach. Causing Bellatrix to cough and laugh. Joining in, Hermione flips the witch off, earning another laugh.

"Seriously though, I miss my cat. His purr, presence and smell."

"Smell?"

"you never just inhale your pet?" Hermione asks. "Oh, I forgot, you probably have basilisk or something."

"Ha, you wish. I miss the hamster."

"What? You're pulling my leg."

"Mr Snyder, his little stubby legs"

"I'm not falling for it."

"Turned out it was a girl, so that was a shock when she popped out six babies."

Eyeing the witch sceptically, Hermione struggles to tell if Bellatrix is lying. Making a joke or downright serious. She looks almost reminiscent lost to her thoughts.

"Had to get a bigger enclosure, can only imagine the money it costs to feed them all. Can't exactly sell them, can I? Not technically legal."

"You're not talking about a dwarf hamster, are you?" Hermione sighs, racking her brains. "Oh, wow you have a Cricetinae?"

"No, I have seven weren't you listening? Honestly, your listening skills are shocking."

"You said Hamster!"

"Yes, Jasmine Cricetinae."

"Wow, can I meet them?" Hermione asks, she always wanted to meet the Siberian rodents.

Bellatrix throws her a queer look, a quick reminder that outside the trials they are not friends, they are enemies. It's because of a distant memory, the days, weeks and months spent in the trials. Hermione is losing track of the lines, the good and the bad. Outside they are enemies they despise one another.

It dulls her mood, the stars become almost taunting and she almost wonders if it's worth going back? Isn't it easier in here? No war, the world won't need to know she's a werewolf. They won't judge her; she could help those stuck in the trials. Living in the trials, away from the drama of the world.

"What?" Bellatrix asks rolling on to her side to study Hermione. "You've got that look."

"What look?" Hermione mumbles.

"The, I'm thinking too much, look."

Even now, Bellatrix has become someone who understands her, knows her. Is this what it feels like to suffer from Stockholm? Has Bellatrix successfully turned her against her friends? Yet, Hermione wants nothing more than to wrap her around the boys, to cuddle them. Hear them argue, laugh, to see Hogwarts in all it's glory.

She wants nothing more than to return to her parents, but the blood running through her skin. Well, it burns like a bad memory, that she is tainted. Never to be around those she loves for too long. Because the potions won't save her, won't stop her from turning. The world will turn against her, no matter what she does for the World. There's still Voldemort, Bellatrix will return to him, his most loyal.

Bellatrix still responsible for Sirius death, still held accountable for the Longbottom's. Outside this little world, they are the opposite sides, her blood makes sure of that. Her loyalties make sure of that, but the thought of fighting Bellatrix. It doesn't sit well with her, makes her insides churn. Her heart hammer and she wonders if she wants to leave. Does she want to stay? Her body aches, her soul begs for relief and her magic core remains damaged.

A stone pelts the side of her head, she winces in annoyance, rolling over to face Bellatrix. A reminder Bellatrix has a short attention span let alone void of any patience. Bellatrix who has somehow become more than the demon she first appeared to be.

"Well?" Bellatrix demands weighing up another stone.

"It's nothing." Hermione sums up it's easier to forget. "Just being stupid."

"Nothing new there."

She wants to retort, to throw a comeback but she struggles. Because that would mean banter, that would mean some level of friendship. Would mean a bigger trust.

"No, come back?" Bellatrix questions, Hermione can see the cogs turning in the dark depths.

"Did you ever expect this?" Hermione wonders aloud. "That anything like this would happen?"

"No, cannot say I did," Bellatrix answers honestly.

"You know…" She trails off, the thought sounds foolish, even worse spoken aloud.

"What?"

"I didn't expect to become friends."

A humourless chuckle from the dark witch, eyes alight with mirth. The build-up to a cackle Hermione knows is coming. She knows the stages of Bellatrix's laugh, the real laugh the one so deep it causes tears at the side of the witches' eyes. The one that makes her snort un-ladylike. The one that sets Hermione off, not this fake laugh. The defence that Bellatrix puts up when she must uphold her walls to keep people are arm's length. It used to hurt, to cut deep, would even make her shiver in fear. Now, it becomes a tiresome game one she has become bored with playing. Because it no longer matters in here, there are no sides only one goal. To escape and she doesn't care if she holds Bellatrix in regards to a friend.

She doesn't care the thought is almost liberating. What does it matter if she thinks of Bellatrix a friend? Even if the Dark witch doesn't believe it herself, no one knows. No one cares, because Hermione doesn't care. In the grand scheme of things, Hermione has more to worry about that being friends with Bellatrix.

Won't mean they will braid each other's hair or gossip about girls or boys. The very thought repulses Hermione, that's not Bellatrix. Not the dark witch who she relies upon to catch her when she slips. The witch who can get them out of a jail by enticing the jailers in with a flash of her bosom. The witch who teachers her so much about duelling and doesn't flinch when Hermione reveals the monster inside.

Somehow along this journey, she has come to rely upon Bellatrix, as a friend. A confidant, an equal and a teacher. She knows Bellatrix won't see it the same way, will never see it the same way. But Hermione could care less, in the trials they only have each other. Outside the trials, they may never remember so she allows the thought. The promise of friendship without fear of repercussion, it doesn't matter if Bellatrix betrays her. She almost expects it, perhaps disappointed if Bellatrix fails to.

"Friends!" Bellatrix cackles clutching her chest in the fake breathless way she always does. "Your funny one muddy."

Remaining quiet, Hermione merely watches the witch throw her usual performance, the walls firmly in place. It annoys Bellatrix more when Hermione remains quiet when she fails to rise to the taunt. When they dangle near a true conversation, that makes them so much closer.

"They say I'm tapped in the head." Bellatrix chuckles, but the pulse of her neck reveals everything.

This conversation is unnerving the witch. The silence is annoying her, the anger she can almost see it pulsing below the surface like a hellish volcano. Bellatrix hates to be on the back foot, especially concerning emotions.

"You're not crazy," Hermione comments rolling on to her back she continues her star gazing. "And yes, I consider you a friend. I know, I know I'm a mudblood, we're on opposite sides of the war blah, blah. In here, I see you as a friend. I might be crazy, you might think I'm mad, but it's the truth. And what I miss is my books. My history of Hogwarts. It always helps me relax."

The silence confirms her suspicions Bellatrix doesn't know how to reply. Can almost see the witch running through the idea of hurting Hermione just to prove a point. Tiredness comes at the end of the revelation; she closes her eyes.

"Night,"

She throws the word out, wondering if Bellatrix will be here in the morning or if she'll do a run overnight. Barely matters, because any movement from the witch will wake Hermione, with her sensitive hearing she can hear the dark witches laboured breaths. The thundering of her heart, the scuttling of a nearby lizard. Tries to drown it out, by focussing on her breathing allowing tiredness to win.

"Not far," Bellatrix calls from below.

They wake with the sun, eating before venturing out. The conversation of the night before forgotten stored away probably never to be talked about again. It serves Hermione just fine, she's not one spill her emotions. If anything in the light of day she fears rejection. Daylight makes it all real so she's grateful Bellatrix left the midnight confession where it belonged. At the top of the mountain.

"Listen," Hermione says pausing.

Bellatrix stops, a few feet below, allowing Hermione to listen. Utilizing Hermione's new trick to the best of the ability. It's saved them so far, on a few occasions.

"I can hear running water," Hermione states listening to the sounds of rushing water. Not a stream bigger. "River?"

"Waterfall?" Bellatrix questions.

"No," Hermione answers closing her eyes, "Running not crashing."

"Mouth of the river perhaps?" Bellatrix replies studying their descent. "Come on."

They continue Hermione, climbing downwards to the same ledge as Bellatrix, following it along. Along they go, down, backwards, sideways and along again. It's an odious trek, trying to find a safe way to the bottom. Her parched mouth, her water ran out, too proud to ask Bellatrix. Besides she knows the witch ran out the evening before could hear the empty rattle of a bottle.

She somehow manages to get in front of Bellatrix leading the descent, grasping on to the rocks. Grumbling as her top catches a cactus. We need water. The urge, the sight of running water creates an impulse. Picking up her pace, she leads the way.

"Slow," Bellatrix calls voice cracking from above. "Muddy, slow."

"I am, I am." Hermione retorts.

Catching her nail of rock, she pauses on the ledge allowing Bellatrix to catch up. Can hear the laboured breathes once more, the rattling in the chest. Knows the witch is slowing because of the lack of water. Hermione could get down, get the water to bring it to the witch. Wouldn't be too hard.

"Take the right there." Bellatrix points out to gradual descent.

"That ways shorter."

"No, right." Bellatrix orders.

It's slower painfully slower maybe another half hour to their journey. The other path although a sharper descent is walkable. They could do it on all fours crawl down. She could do it.

Bellatrix chooses the path down, fighting the urge to go the other way, Hermione follows. Spotting another ledge below she could lower Bellatrix too it.

"I can lower you there?" Hermione suggests.

"How do you plan to get down, I'm not catching you," Bellatrix grumbles.

"It's faster."

"So's jumping but you know there's a risk with that too."

The sarcasm sours the mood, so does the long descent. Hearing every breath that Bellatrix makes, the thundering heart between the rib cage. The glistening sweat; they're pumping out more liquids than they're drinking. The breaks between descents, it is agonising.

Rubbing her neck, she uses her hat to remove the sweat at the base of the neck. Her hair plastered against her forehead; the air humid. It burns her lungs on inhaling.

Leading the way once more, Hermione forces herself to slow down so Bellatrix can keep up. Can almost taste the water on her lips, it's when she spots a path to the left. It's quicker in the shade of the mountain, it breaks their descent in half the time. If they use their poles to check for loose rock, they'll be fine.

She chooses that way Bellatrix a few yards behind, unaware of their change of direction. Steadily she leads the way further along the new path. The rock surprisingly steady, she picks speed.

"Oi," Bellatrix voices makes her pause. "What the fuck you are doing?"

Still, on the old track, Bellatrix is waiting for a response, Hermione didn't realise how far ahead she was. Didn't matter they're close to the end; she can see the ground about a hundred feet below.

"This way…" Hermione states. "It's shaded."

"No, I told you to stick to the right."

"Who put you in charge?" Hermione demands.

"I did when I fucking kidnapped you," Bellatrix retorts. "Get your arse up here."

"Well tough, this way is quicker."

"Well, dear friend I don't give a shit." Bellatrix sneers annoyed. "It's loose rock not safe."

"It's all loose and since when did you become a fucking expert?"

"When I prepared for this bloody mission, now shut the fuck up and come back."

"No," Hermione argues. "This way is the best option."

"You boneheaded fuckwit," Bellatrix growls. "The rock is eroded; the shadow has created cool air which will create a slippery surface. It's loose now let's get down in one piece rather than several."

"I can do this."

"Fuck sake Granger, the wolf in you may be able to. You, your little human body will not. Now stop being a hot-headed Gryffindor and take the slow road."

She ignores the witch continuing with her path ignoring the insults thrown her way. Slow she makes her way down, using her poles to check the footing as she goes. Hears Bellatrix head the other way following the long path.

They both work in silence, Hermione aware of Bellatrix's location through her hearing, conscious the dark witch checking on her every now again. Bugger me if she doesn't see us as friends. She's about forty feet from the ground when she stops for a breath. Hands raw, she's grateful to be out of the sun.

A rock pelts her back, grumbling she turns to give Bellatrix a piece of her mind. The words fail to come though, it's not Bellatrix. The goats from the other day are charging up the side the mountain above them, pelting dislodging loose rock.

Covering her face, Hermione steps from the falling rocks, avoiding the dust. It's a large rock that makes her jump as it smashes next to her, looking up once more her heart sinks at the sight of two goats fighting. The clash of their horns, as they fight for dominance. It causes a shift in more rocks.

"Bellatrix!" Hermione shouts.

A few pants are her reply, as Bellatrix slowly comes into view glaring at Hermione.

"Trapped?" Bellatrix taunts.

Not answering, Hermione points to the fighting billies above them. Swearing, Bellatrix narrowly avoids a falling rock.

"Slightly ironic!" Hermione chuckles.

"Shut up!" Bellatrix shouts back, aware her previous actions are now haunting them.

Turning, back to her track, Hermione considers pausing her descent until the fight above subsides. A shout makes her jump, flinching as a shadow passes above. One of the billies retreating running down the mountain. They barely have time to react as it rushes past Bellatrix, knocking the witch.

She stumbles backwards. Breathless, Hermione watches her vanish from view. Shouting, Hermione calls out for the witch, panicked. Dodging the falling rocks as the rest of the goats continue their journey above.

"Bellatrix!" Hermione shouts.

She cannot hear above the pounding of her own heart, clutching her poles. This is all her fault she should have stayed with Bellatrix, what happens if this witch fell?

"Bellatrix! Bella!" Hermione calls, moving across the sloping rock aware of the forty-foot drop.

"M'fine!" Comes a mumbled reply. "Fucking cactus."

"What?"

"Stopped myself from falling, by holding on to a fucking cactus," Bellatrix shouts coming back into view clutching a bleeding arm.

From here, Hermione can see the spikes embedded, wincing at the smell of blood. "I'm coming over."

She moves across towards the rock to climb up towards Bellatrix, the witch will need help pulling the spikes out.

"No, Granger," Bellatrix warns.

"It's fine, I'm fine."

"Granger!"

"What?" Hermione demands.

Smack.

Rock pelts the side of her head, she stumbles, disorientated falling to her knees. Wincing, she touches the side of her head grateful to find it sweaty but not bleeding. Grumbling, she pushes to her feet, ready to give the goats a piece of her mind.

Stepping forward, she watches for any more falling rocks. Her left foot slips beneath her, the falling rocks causing the rocks to dislodge. She slips her right knee taking the brunt of her fall. Pain rushing through her body, she curses under her breath. The pole jabs her shoulder, she lets go the pole falling from her grip. She goes to grab it, too much momentum. It shifts the ground around her, her knee slipping.

She has no time to shout out, already falling, the rush of air. Her hands fail to grab for support. The ground rushing to meet her. Blood rushing, heart pounding.

Thud.

Hitting the hard ground, it rocks her skeleton. The breath knocked out of her; she sees stars. Too shocked to move, she stares at the blue sky above. Coughing, she rolls to her side, grateful to still be moving. Wiggling her toes, she breathes a sigh of relief. Not paralysed. Resting her head against the ground she laughs, staring at the ledge above.

Pushing to her knees, she hears the running water, can see a large section of water above. Dusting herself down she searches for any broken bones. None. Lucky. Slowly, she stands. Ouch. Her right ankle gives way, she catches herself limping. Wiggling her toes, it causes pain, can see the ankle swelling. A sprain potentially. Collecting her poles, she limps towards the water, collapsing to her knees she cups the water.

Freshwater, she's almost giddy as her chapped lips touch the liquid. Relieved, she submerges her head in the clear liquid. Breaking the surface, she wipes the water away.

Jumping as a hand grabs her top, pulling her back to an angry Bellatrix. A very breathless Bellatrix, who seems torn between torturing Hermione and hugging her.

"Ta-dah!" Hermione proclaims pointing to the water.

"Fucking clover," Bellatrix growls falling to her knees next to the water.

Bellatrix cups the water in her free hand sipping the life-giving liquid, Hermione aware the witch is still gripping her top. Even now she holds on to Hermione as though she might disappear. Not my friend my arse. Hermione smirks resting her head against Bellatrix's shoulder. Neither witch wanting to admit how close they were this time at running out of water. Too close, too close.