A/n: I hope this chapter brings some cheer.
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. CHARACTER Death.
Chapter Warning: This chapter deals with Depression, PTSD and violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable characters and No money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Twenty One
Hope is a fire, if you feed it, it will roar with life. Smoother it and it will either simmer or die.
Nblackman.
Crimson trickles, a stream in the moss ground.
No…no…. no.
Hands claw at the earth, desperate searching and reaching. Needing to help, restless in their bid to aid. Nails digging into the moss, scraping, moving however they remain stationary. The pressure on their back forcing them down towards the ground. Screaming, voice raw they turn to sobs.
No.
Mud clings to their lips she would think it almost ironic, given her status. If it weren't for the tears that streak across her cheek, if not for the ache in her heart. No.
Breathless, subdued she struggles feebly in the strong arms pinning her, cannot hear the whispering her ears. Calm. Granger calm down. We need to go. The words fail to register, fail to move her she's reaching for the face. For the witch, whose eyes still open in surprise. To the stream of blood sliding down the hill.
She wants to remove the blood, to remove the mud and clean the face. Seal the shock away, the ground is vibrating. Or is it her, shaking, contorting in the grip of her capture. Reach out for me. Please. No.
Those pale lips that once kissed, her first kiss with a woman. Something breaks inside her; it's agonising the searing pain that flares through her abdomen. Shakes her to the core, still the blood trickles. Crimson in its approach reaching out for her, she reaches in return to touch. To know if it's true is Heta dead.
Even with the lifeless body, the screeching of her companion as he too falls under the creature. She fails to believe that the woman is dead. Despite the decapitation. The memory, the splatter of blood, the screaming, and the crunch repeats in her mind. She fails to understand that the witch is gone, there is no going back.
Lifting, she's moving dragged away from the witch who sees nothing. Not anymore dead along with the wish to free her people. Forgotten amongst the trials. Her heels drag against the mud, moving so fast she wonders if they're flying.
Trees past them in a hurry, the branches whip, they crack against the skin. They lash at their exposed body with the unrelenting of an angry whip. The hands are holding, carrying moving her through the foliage, past the shifting scenery. Shaking, someone's shaking, her hands vibrating her breathing shaking. They're moving.
Feet touching the ground. Pushing and pulling, she feels herself moving. Lifting and turning, she doesn't know where she is. Who she is, just the constant murmur, the low talking of darkness that insists she keeps going? The demon leading her deeper into the trail away from the monster in the forest from the dead.
It's only darkness she remembers.
~~~~~ ADITM ~~~~~
In, out, deep breaths, it takes more energy than she thought possible. Her chest tightens, constricts, expels the trapped air. Her lungs they thirst, they plea for oxygen. Her mind well it burns with too many possibilities, all the wrong scenarios.
Numb, she's never felt so numb, she should have died instead.
Now here she is alive, unable to help, to aid in the fallen witch their wish was forgotten. Alive. She doesn't feel alive her hands feel foreign to her, beating in her chest feels forced. Nothing registers, they've stopped moving, stationery. The room is dreary, collapsed in the corner away from the light of the window. The door to the room.
Let me stay here, rot here. It should have been me.
All around her the noise is deafening, it blinds her, makes her curl further into her herself. Knees pulled tight to her chest, hands gripping. She still sees the crimson trickling; it touched the pale of her skin. Crept into her soul, touched the base of her mind whispering murderous thoughts.
Something cold pressed against her face a rag, wiping across her cheeks before it pulls back bathed in red. Rinse, repeat the rag removes the remaining stains, the dirt, the grime and Heta. A hand combs through her knotted hair, a voice lost in the noise of the room.
A glass pressed against her lips the strong smell of alcohol she swigs it all down. It burns her throat, makes her cough, forces air through her body. She chokes, spluttering something inside her twists, it restarts. As the glass refills, the drink downed, the rag returns. Hands comfort in their approach they remove her clothes, leaving her bare in her underwear.
Vulnerable, but she feels numb to the personal touch vacant of this place. The hands neither hurt nor comfort, merely move in a methodical action. A robe thrown across her shoulders, she feels the warmth, the heat emanates from the soft fabric. It relaxes her muscles as the drink relaxes her mind. She flinches as silky objects fit over her ears, stops the roaring noise. The madness, bringing back to the present with only their breaths between them.
"Better?" The voice is warm like honey. "Nod if yes."
She nods, faint it may be, she forces a nod. A smile, patient in its presence a hand cool caresses her cheek. Ruby lips they lift in a small smile, fleeting as it may be. Bellatrix. The word breathes life into her body, reignites her soul. Bella.
The witch almost jumps as Hermione presses her hand to the exposed collarbone. The skin so smooth, paleness of the neck. She almost thought Bellatrix would have prickly skin like a porcupine, but she reminds herself. All snakes are silky to touch. There's warmth though, beneath the smoothness, snakes are cold. Not hot to touch. The touch sparks electricity, she sees it flash through the coal eyes that regard her curiously.
The neck almost perfect angled like a true noblewoman. Can feel the gentle thump of the heart beating, it doubles as her fingers run along the exposed skin. Warmth, she seeks it from the witch. The need to touch Bellatrix, to hold her, the need to feel another human.
"Shock," Bellatrix is talking, lips moving can feel the vibration through the witch's bones. "You're in shock, Granger."
Tiredness prods at her mind, she feels worn out. Struggles to keep herself still as her clutches the robe with her free hand. Grounding herself to reality through the embodiment of Bellatrix. Something wet touches her knee, she realises she's crying. Did she ever stop?
She moves with such speed she almost feels she'll get whiplash. Tackling the witch in front of her, pressing her face into the exposed neck. Needing to feel the heat, the touch of another. Anything to remove this numbness. She half expects a dagger to the back, a slap to the face. Not the calm hands that wrap around her in return.
They're moving, lifting, she clings harder to the witch, afraid to let go. Afraid to see the real world. Not expecting the softness of a bed, the comfort of a blanket or the hands that return. A soft humming, gentle rocking a simple pattern of spells drawn on her back. Can feel it through the fabric, she falls asleep lost in the essence of Bellatrix. The demon rocking her to sleep, the hotel room fading. She clings tighter.
~~~~~ ADITM ~~~~~
The glass shakes in her tight grip, the fourth swig, the whiskey strong enough to knock out a giant. She hopes it's strong enough to remove the memories. Can still hear the thud, the sight it makes her retch. Only her urge to remain still prevents her from throwing up.
Granger in her lap holding to her like a limpet clinging to a rock. Knocked out from the drink, the events the shock. Name it, Bella is sure she saw it all tonight. The drink burns, it numbs her, not enough. Not from the sight, not from Heta's death. She has never flown so fast in all her life, never feared death the way she did that night.
She's sure the trials took mercy on them, allowing them to exit, rewarding them with a hotel. The manager not arguing with the blood-soaked witches demanding a room, she erased his mind. Her hand still shakes from the charms, strong enough she imagines even Dumbledore would fail to breach them. Her core hums the excess magic pouring from her skin.
Wanted nothing than to throw herself under the covers, holding her dagger to her chest. TO wish the world to fuck off. Granger cowering in the corner, lost, broken and probably never going to be the same again. It took all her strength to clean herself first ordering the strongest alcohol to be delivered. She drank half of it before spoon-feeding Granger.
Pale, she has never seen Granger so pale even after Greyback, there was some colour. Some spark. Never seen the witch so lost hiding in the corner. The exuberant Granger, tireless in her energy, endless with her knowledge so broken on the ground. For once it wasn't Bella's hand that dealt the pain, the death.
Just a creature from a nightmare.
A murmur from Granger, she cradles the witch tighter shushing as she returns to rocking them. Traumatised to see her tears gracing Granger's skin. It glistens in the candlelight, she hasn't cried since she was a child. Not when she gave birth, not when she lost her child nor when the Dementors came for her in Azkaban.
Here now, on this bed, she weeps like a child. Cradling Granger like a teddy, wishing she'd keep the demon at bay. Because fuck if she doesn't know a demon when she sees one. Doesn't understand why Granger clung to her for comfort. It snapped something in her mind, her chest tight as Granger broke in her arms. For once she offered comfort, didn't hurt the witch.
She ignores the earmuffs covering Granger's ears, something she's been tinkering with since they met the muggles in the forest. A way to dampen Granger's sensitive hearing for when they're resting. For when they're in the presence of humans, trial and error. She was going to surprise the witch, foolish in her thought. A gift for the curse she's responsible for what was she thinking?
A gurgled cry leaves her lips, the glass shatters against the opposite wall, she pulls Granger tighter. Wailing into the witches shoulder.
Thud.
The memory of Heta's head sliced from her neck, the twitching of the witches body still functioning. The shock, the horrible shock on the head. Crunch. The agonising scream of the wizard, his arm bitten off, ripped off. The veins, god the veins.
She cries.
"I can't do this." She whispers it into the room.
She cannot do this, what was she thinking. Now they are both trapped in an endless hell, not just her. Granger, stupid fucking Granger who thought they could be friends. She's the monster in the trials, the monster lurking the shadows. Because she knows despite what the creature did, she has done worse. Her actions…
She pushes from the bed falling from witch's grip crashing to the ground. She pukes, acid burns she spurts. Gagging, clutching the carpet. Collapsing on the floor, weeping, the heat the sweat. Clammy she cries, fist hitting the floor repeatedly. Until they bleed, until pain registers.
Worn, she cradles her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. The fear to stay to leave she's not sure which she fears more.
"Bella," A whisper, hopeless.
"I'm here," Bella replies rattled still by the nickname.
"S'cold."
Course it is because they just witnessed something unnatural. Rising, Bella removes the sick, wipes her mouth, watches the hand on the bed searching. Why? She wants to demand an answer, grab the witch shake her, why? Why is she seeking comfort from Bella? Is Granger a fool, too stupid to realise the creature out there is just the same as Bella?
The hand touches her robe, clutching, pulling and tugging. Wanting body heat, Granger so small on the bed. What have I done? Her hand clasps the one seeking, the warmth, the instant reassurance.
"You okay?" Granger asks voice no louder than a mouse.
"No," Bella admits with a humourless laugh.
The urge to tell Granger to fuck off, to not see Bella so weak, so lost. She hopes the candlelight hides her ashen face, the tears. The smell of puke still lingers, she must look haggard. She was wrong so wrong to bring them here.
"I'm sorry." Bella murmurs, she hasn't apologised in so long.
The admittance stirs Granger more, still, the alcohol tugs at her subconscious can see the struggle to stay lucid. The brilliant witch staring at her as though she's grown another head, as though an apology is more terrifying than the creature in the woods.
"So am I," Granger replies.
Snorting, Bella shakes her head, what on earth is Granger apologising for, it angers her. Fuels her annoyance, her irritation it churns like bile in her stomach.
"What the fuck for? What have you got to apologise for? I kidnapped you. Brought you here, and we're stuck. Granger, because I don't know what the fuck we're doing. I don't know where we're going… I just. We're fucked and it's all my stupid fault." She didn't realise she was shouting screaming until the last words died in her throat.
A hand, the one she's pulled away from, tore herself from the heat. The need to seek comfort, to hold the other witch tightly promise she'll get them out. Because she can, she's achieved far greater things, but right now. She's lost. The trials never-ending, it's the hope that's dying.
Still, the hand remains offered, she hasn't the strength to fight it when Granger tugs. Merely collapses back on to the bed, with the witch clinging tightly to her as though she will save them. As though Bellatrix is her safety, when really, it's Bellatrix she should hide from.
She curls into the witch, burying her face in the exposed neck to hide her shame. Her face from the world if her Lord could see her now. Hands tighten on her back, nails she can feel them through her robes, she wants them to dig in. To scratch rip, her to shreds. Wishes Granger would turn and kill her be done with her.
Secretly she craves the touch, the hold, the warmth, despite the smell of sweat, the forest and death. Granger smells of something else, warmth, it reassures her, someone she has grown so accustomed to, become another part of her. She ignores the words that say whisper Granger smells like home, like safety because it's foolish. After this is over they will part ways, Granger returning to the light and Bella to the dark. They will fight in an epic war when one side will win and the other will lose.
One of them will die the other will live and the trials will become a memory. Their time together forgot. They're extraordinary time, the ups and downs will be meaningless out of the trial.
One of us will die.
Because how can they not, Granger is Potter's right hand, she is her Lords. They are enemies, sworn to an oath, outside of the trials they are merely pieces on a chessboard. They can never be friends, never become anything.
"You do want him to win the war, right?"
She grips the witch tighter, hating the weakness, her crying has stopped. Granger has fallen asleep, she doubts the witch will even remember this, but it's enough to embarrass Bella. Enough to show weakness, she wonders how Granger will use it against her. Fatigue, persistent it nudges, prowling her mind. Forcing her eyes to shut, her mind to falter. The alcohol numbing her bones, her head buzzing, she struggles to move. The effects hitting her, preventing herself from detangling her limbs from extracting herself from Granger. To retire to the other bed, instead, she remains limp in the grip of the girl who has forced Bella to challenge herself more than the trial itself.
What is Granger sorry for? The question chases her into a dreamless sleep.
Bang the noise startles her, the startling daylight burning her iris, she groans. Grasping for a pillow to cover her face, her stomach cramping from hunger. She feels a mess, a wreck. Unsure if it's puke that makes her gut roll, she stretches her limbs. Aware a lot of time has passed, her bladder straining.
Falling from the bed, she staggers to the bathroom, catching the clock as she goes. Sixteen hours? She's slept for sixteen hours, another groan. She uses the water from the sink to splash her face, considers having a bath. The window propped open, water drips from the showerhead. She hears the buzz of the town below.
Rubbing her head, Bella steps back into the room, considering calling room service. Ordering everything, they have to offer. Her wand lies on the floor, where she dropped it in her drunken stupor. The memories still fresh from the day before, the creature, Heta still makes her gag. It's less prominent now, almost a bad headache, the drunk night a fleeting memory.
"We should order food," Bella says opening another window, airing the stuffy room. "Granger?"
Her heart drops, she notices the empty bed. Granger? Turning, the room is empty, the bathroom too, unless Granger has turned in invisible. She notices the witches wand missing. It's fine probably gone for some fresh air.
"No? After this when we get away from this haunted forest. I'm going the other way to you."
Granger's words whisper in her mind, a memory, Granger apologising the night before. It didn't make sense, has Granger kept to her promise. Seen Bella at her weakest, decided it was safer to go alone. It's when she notices their bag of supplies, moved. She reaches for it tripping over her feet struggling to find the money put aside. Fucking bitch.
Robbed! Granger robbed her and did a runner. Cursing under her breath she kicks the bed, bending her toe back she cries in pain. Grumbling she reaches for her wand. If the witch thinks she can escape getting away from this, she's got another thing coming. There's no way in hell she's letting Granger get away from this.
She stumbles from the bed, wand clutched in hand, a moment of fear. Did Granger go looking for the creature? To enact revenge, surely, she's too smart to do such a thing, but she is a Gryffindor. Foolish and hot-headed. Granger wouldn't, would she? She's not sure it's anger or fear that's making her heartbeat erratically.
No, she wouldn't have taken the money, surely?
Would she?
Panting, disorientated, most likely dehydrated she tries to stop the room spinning. She drinks far too much, the drink too strong for her body. Not after spending months in the wild. She can only imagine she looks a state.
A creak, the door opens, she struggles to lift her wand. Too tired to move or respond. Knackered from simply standing, this could be death coming through the door. She recognises the brown hair thrown in a messy bun. Her stomach growls at the presence of food, the smell inviting. Delicious, her mouth salivates at the thought.
Surprised eyes find hers, a smile blossoming on the witches face as she kicks the door shut behind her. Granger, carrying food in boxes, muggle food by the looks of things.
"Your awake," Granger announces summoning a table to the middle of the room. She places the boxes down. "About time, I was getting worried."
"What?" Bella whispers confused.
Did the other day not happen, was it all some wild dream? Has she finally lost the plot; would she know if she had? She stares at the witch, confusion evident.
"Bellatrix?" Granger prompts.
"What's happening?"
"You've been asleep in a drunken stupor."
"Did Heta…"
"Yes," Granger replies before Bella can finishes, a shadow passing across the features. "Three days ago, you've been asleep for thirty-three hours."
"What?"
"You drank a lot, a lot, a lot."
She feels as though she's dribbling on her robes until she realises, she's not wearing the same robes as the other night. A blush on Granger's face knows the witch must have changed her clothes.
"You puked in your sleep. I thought you'd prefer new clothes."
Course she did, slowly she moves to the room sitting, staring at the boxes of food. Granger unveiling beautiful pancakes stuffed different fillings, potatoes, apples, and cherries. Pastries line another box, a salad, pork in a clay pot another selection of meat. Fresh bread. Drinks she's never heard of some she recognises as mead, a right selection almost a picnic.
"Try these, they're called sachni. Taste amazing."
Pulling out some cutlery Granger digs into the food prompting Bella to follow suit. They eat in silence, Granger flicking through a book, something she brought in with her. The food energises her, removes the faltering. A potion placed on the table to ease her headache, a pointed look from Granger as she returns the money to the bag.
Granger has used some of the money to update her wardrobe, dressed in light grey trousers, they hang loosely from her hip. Pockets galore it almost makes Bella jealous, a sleeveless jacket. Arms protected by a long sleeve blacktop. A scarf wrapped delicately around her neck, protecting her mouth from the chill in the air. If Bella wasn't sure, she would almost guess Granger was in tactical gear.
"I lost some clothes," Granger shrugs under the scrutiny. "I got you some too, I think it might be a bit cold where we're going."
The comment makes her pause, how does Granger know where they're heading? Sipping the drink, Bella glances inside the bag before placing them on the floor. Granger returning to her reading as Bella studies the other untouched bag.
"Supplies," Granger comments not looking up.
"Where are we?" Bella decides with the simple question first.
"Gomel, Belarus."
Nodding, Bella plays with the label on the bottle would explain why she cannot read the writing. Remaining in the dark to as where they're heading, she feels as though it should be obvious. Except she has no clue as to where they are going.
"I'll bite, where are we going?"
Clearing the food to one side, Granger lays a map down as Bella lifts her drink. Pointing to a circled area. Clueless, she looks back to the witch wondering what in Merlin's name she is missing?
"Chernobyl?"
"You must know what it is?" Granger replies shocked.
"Never heard of it."
"It's a nuclear disaster, thousands died."
"Nuclear?"
Dumbstruck, Granger leans back completely confused. That at least makes two of them, she feels as though she's missing some muggle culture.
"It's a disaster zone, high in radiation you have to go on tours to get there. No one can live there it's too contaminated."
"Sounds fun, why are we going there?" The sarcasm makes her feel like herself again.
"Just a feeling really," Granger shrugs. "I mean it's where we've been heading. How could the trials push us this far and not send us into a death zone?"
"So we should expect zombies?"
"There's no such thing as zombies."
"Giant rats?"
"Really?"
"Basilisks? Dragons? OH I know, three-eyed dogs."
"Maybe."
"Really?"
"No, seriously you're like a child sometimes," Granger comments pushing to her feet.
"Infected, just saying should be prepared for who knows what," Bella replies reclining in her chair. "Could be like Oxholde all over again."
"Oxholde?"
"Before your time." Bella waves the question away.
Shaking her head, Granger busies herself with tidying the table. Studying the younger witch, Bella wonders what she missed in the last few hours. Granger seems different, not just the clothes something else she doesn't recognise. As though her faith in reaching the end has been restored as though Heta wasn't beheaded a few days ago.
"Did I miss anything?" Bella asks. "While I was sleeping?"
"Just shopping," Granger answers pausing in her tidying. "Why?"
"You just seem different."
"I haven't forgotten," Granger sighs reaching for her drink she takes a swig wincing at the taste. "I don't think I'll ever forget… I just."
Bella waits as Granger trails off, as she stares at the wall as though composing herself. It's all quite touching she supposes having a civilised meal and pleasant talk. She never imagined this not at the start, not when she grabbed a girl. Didn't expect her to become this strong witch who has pulled herself back from the brink.
"I hated her, you know at that very moment, I hated her," Granger confesses sinking on to a chair she rests her legs on the table, her new boots on show. "I wanted to yell at her, I was going to. What she said, it brought home some truths you know. God it hurt, I just wanted to shout at her. Make her realise nothing has changed. I'm still me, that being a werewolf hasn't changed anything."
"it's not your fault she's dead."
"It is," Granger answers with acceptance.
"No one saw that coming, not even me."
"I did," Hermione nods wiping an errant tear away. "I heard something coming. I got so distracted by Heta, I just didn't even think. Didn't even realise they were too soft-footed to even make the sound I heard. Now that creature is loose, she's dead and their tribe will never be free."
"That's a lot of guilt for one person. The only person responsible is Heta and her companion. That thing stalks its prey, it cannot get through the trials on its own, we know that. It's a parasite, survives by following others. It had to be following them for a while."
"How do you know?"
"because it was hungry, worn out just like them. Probably struggling to survive the same as them."
"So why did it kill them? Not us?"
"Because we are surviving, they were existing. Like most prey animals it went for the weakest there."
"If we hadn't distracted them…"
"There death would be a lot more painful, more drawn out."
Pursing her lips, Granger plucks fabric from her trousers, lost in thought. Bella admires the younger witch, in this moment alone Granger is rationalising a very painful moment. Dealing with grief, something the witch should not be experiencing. Especially a death so horrid. She feels like bringing up the other night, their moment of weakness, but decides it is best to let it lie.
A jaw sets, determination it ignites Granger's whole body. It stirs Bella to resolve, sparking the embers of hope as Granger once more rises to her feet. Bella feels as though she is missed something important, something has changed in the hours she slept. She chooses to not comment on it, merely enjoying this new confidence in Granger. No longer the passenger on the journey more the guide, perhaps their pilot.
The hug lingers in her mind, a memory, she chooses to keep for herself. To warm her cold heart, she has never been held so tenderly. Not even her lovers, not even Longbottom, she has never felt the comfort in another. Someone so compassionate yet so strong, to bring out Bella's weakness to see it in it is fall glory. To not use it, to chose to ignore the moment as though it never happened. She respects Granger for that, respects the silence.
"Not to be rude, but you need a shower." Granger comments.
Rolling her eyes, Bella gives the witch the finger rising to her feet. She considers telling Granger where to shove her comment, but one whiff of her body odour she decides it be prudent to shower. Maybe not so compassionate after all…
A/n: I had to add some fluff in eventually. Next chapters are written so I have the weekend free to work on my own book. Whoa. Stay safe all.