Chapter Thirty-Three: Sisters Black.
The heat in the railway station still worked. Hermione was not sure for precisely how long that she slept, for how long that she bathed in this strange luxury. Perhaps it was a boiler fuelled by diesel fuel taken from locomotives outside. It didn't matter.
She slept, and slept… Her dreams tossed through visions of Bellatrix and Harry and Ron staring at her with condemnatory gazes. The dreams were not pleasant, for all that she was dimly aware that she had done a great thing and should be pleased with herself. She had other dreams, though, dreams contrasting with the first set—dreams of Bella, alone in the snow. She wanted to be with her, but the older woman was always too far away.
It was something of a miracle that she woke up feeling refreshed, but checking her chrono, it was probably that she had slept for more than fourteen hours. She stirred, just to realise that her cot was pushed up to Bella's. They were alone, sure, but she was surprised by it. Hermione reached out and brushed Bella's shoulder, but the woman was still sleeping, so she refused to wake her, got up, and looked for some way to make caffeine to hold at bay a looming headache. Probably withdrawal symptoms from the lack of caffeine…
She opened and closed drawers as quietly as she could, and finally found a box of packets of Nescafe. Hermione felt a growing coldness toward Bella, still sleeping—her dreams, or rather nightmares, were coming back and reminding her exactly what her friends would think of all of this, both the living and the dead . Grimacing for a moment, she dumped the contents of a few of the packs into a cup, and worked a spell on some of the water to heat it on the spoke. It felt mildly like an abuse of good taste to use magic to make Nescafe, but whatever, she needed the caffeine.
Her tongue twisted at the taste, but it was hot and it was what she needed. But Hermione had only had one gulp of it, when with a start, Bellatrix woke up. Now, for the first time, Hermione could see her jolt in bed—as if awakening from something unpleasant. She regretted even that single moment of cold thought s toward Bella, nothing humanised her lover more than the suggestion that she might, as Hermione just had, have suffered from bad dreams.
"Did you have a nightmare, Bellatrix?"
"Absolutely not!" She struggled to her feet, shaking her head. "I just can't believe I slept so long. Granger, give me some of that?"
Hermione grimaced, naturally, and glanced at her cup. "It's instant coffee. I used a Aeolus spell to heat the water. I'm sure there's some kind of canteen in the waiting room, we could head down there instead…"
"Yes. I'm not desperate enough to drink instant coffee," Bellatrix huffed, shooting at a look at Hermione.
The younger woman very much felt like she was being judged. She's so damned petty sometimes. Sometimes? What am I saying. It was about then that her mind had to chime in and remind her that she was sleeping with this woman, who had killed her best friend's godfather, her best friend who was himself dead, at the hands of the man this woman had served, the man who had fathered her child.
It was with an intense feeling, the feeling of wondering precisely what she had done with her life, that Hermione accompanied Bella down to the Cantine in the station's waiting room. Both of them were still in enough of their clothes to be presentable, and troops came to attention. Bella waved her gloved left hand idly, acknowledging but ignoring them. She went straight for the tea, and Hermione followed her since one cup of a caffeinated beverage certainly wasn't going to be enough.
They had outrun their own supply lines, such as they were, and so it was iron rations that the field kitchen was serving up. Sausages and beans. But everyone there was too hungry and exhausted to complain. Also, even Bellatrix could see that it made the men feel better to see her simply fall in line with Hermione and grab a plate, before heading toward the former railway offices and ticket room where the command section had set up.
"Ma'am," General Dodson greeted them. It wasn't just a casual greeting, though. "I wanted to let you know that were were informed about six hours ago that there's someone coming to meet us."
"Oh?" Bellatrix looked up from her tea, as she was revived with it, she managed to look almost bored.
"The acting Prime Minister. Since, I understand, we're to be the British Army now…"
Bellatrix froze next to Hermione, the younger woman could feel her tension, and imagined she could feel the emotions washing through her. "How long until she arrives?"
"Very soon, she was already in the air when I got the message.." Dodson trailed off as he watched Bellatrix more or less shovelling the food into her mouth.
"Narcissa's coming, Narcissa's coming," she mumbled barely over a whisper, side-eyeing Hermione almost suspiciously for a moment. Hermione offered a smile, but it was ignored; instead, Bellatrix rallied and tried to be serious. "I… Thank you, General. Is there anything else to report?"
"The enemy is headlong retreat toward Kiev. What's left of them. We received a halt order to all our operations, because we lack regular supply with the Confederal Army."
"Good. We've done enough." Bellatrix finished shoving food into her mouth and got up with her tea, leaving the bowl behind on a map drawer. "Hurry up, Granger. I won't have you looking like a wet rat when Narcissa shows up. Your new dress uniform should be somewhere. "
Gee, thanks. With a sigh, Hermione got up and followed the older woman, trying to eat as she walked. Again, she wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into.
A military band was playing Rule Britannia. The smart convoy of a mix of armoured cars and limousines rolled up through the shattered streets of Zhovtneve. Troops with their bayonets fixed came to attention across the railway from the train station.
In the middle, the limousine had little Union Jacks on each side of the bonnet, whipping in the cold winter wind. As the limousine rolled to a stop, a Russian lieutenant stepped forward to open the door, and came to attention.
Calmly, and quite deliberately, a woman in her finest wizarding robes—surmounting her professional muggle business attire—stepped out of the car, her hair blonde shot through with black.
"Madame Malfoy, welcome to Zhovtneve!" A delegation of generals were waiting for her, and she toured the troops drawn up over the old marshalling yard, and exchanged pleasantries with them. They were all on the Russian side of the dividing line, of course, which was the main line between Kiev and Poltava.
The entire affair took about thirty minutes. During the review, Narcissa maintained a serene and reserved composure, though she didn't really feel it. It was just something, a military formality, which she had to wait through.
On the other side of the tracks was her territory, at least temporarily. The 'area of operations' of her Army, which was close enough. Obviously, there was also her Army over there. Her wizards and witches, who had chosen to defect from Voldemort, which was good enough for her.
Her sister.
The goodbyes could not be short enough, but had to be long, with all the formality accorded to visiting dignitaries, now that she was a real Head of Government, in the way that counted—the command of Army divisions. She had to wait through all of this, and did, with a calm and composed expression, making the necessary formalities, a sort of muggle social ritual.
Then, with her knot of aides, she carefully walked across the main line of the railroad, which marked the dividing line between the Russian area of operations and that of the Black Guards. And as she negotiated the last of the snow-covered rails— they had not finished enough repairs to start running trains again— she could see her, sheltering under the eaves of the station. Her sister. Surrounded by black-uniformed officers, and one individual in a MinKol uniform who Narcissa immediately realised must be Hermione Granger, she stood, the short lady in black with wild hair, looking so out of place. But t here she was. Her ridiculously short elder sister, dwarfed by the men—and women—around her, but absolutely in control.
Bella. Free at last of Voldemort.
Narcissa mustered the terrible weight of her calm and composure and pitted it against the emotions in her heart, and somehow, managed not to cry.
Bellatrix looked back, like a drowning woman at sea.
Narcissa paused, and drew herself up in front of the officers. "I thank you all for your courage in making this break with Voldemort. You have given Britain, and all the nations of western Europe, hope. You fight as free men now. I do not mean to trivialise that. The fighting will not stop, but at least you can be confident your cause is worth your trials, and that I shall be doing everything in my power to lead you toward the objective of the freedom of your lands and families. I will meet with you all, and hold discussions to understand the sense of the Army, though for the moment, I will speak with your commander, privately. "
Then she took another step forward, and was greeted by a voice forced to be calm, in a trembling body that was anything but. Bellatrix. "Cissy…?"
"Come on, Bella. Let's talk."
"You're all dismissed," Bella ordered to the soldiers, and fell in beside Narcissa with Hermione close at hand. She could barely contain herself.
In the last day or so the station-master's office had started to resemble a proper apartment for them, and it was warm inside, there was a desk, a couple of camp chairs, the old grand high-backed chair for the station-master, and the cots. A little desk with some packets of sweets and other things on it.
As much comfortable as could be found, in the moment. Narcissa dismissed her subordinates, and stepped inside. Bellatrix followed her, and then… Hermione, as well.
"Colonel Granger," she observed, with a hint of surprise as Hermione closed the door behind them. She would have expected Bella to… That came together in her head fairly quickly. "Bella, you really did swear an unbreakable vow wit h.. Colonel Granger, didn't you?"
"I did," her older sister acknowledged, moving to sit in one of the camp chairs. Narcissa, acknowledging the moment of her sister recognising her dignity as the head of the Government-in-Exile, went to the high backed chair. Hermione didn't sit until after Narcissa had.
The younger Black sister fixed a look on her. "Colonel, I would assume from the context of this shared room that you consider yourself bound to my sister for the sake of your own life by the terms of the oath?"
She wondered why Hermione had started to blush.
"Yes, Madame… Prime Minister?"
"That will do for now. Thank you. You may stay, then." Narcissa noted Hermione's look of relief, and then got up, and took three measured steps toward her sister.
And, to Bella's evident surprise traced on her face—not like Narcissa cared at that point, the floodgates finally broken—the younger but taller sister leaned down, and folded her in a hug, squeezing her as hard as she could. "Merlin, God, Bella. You're finally away from that terrible man. Thirty years, and… "
Bella sat there, staring at the wall as if she were peering into history. She let Narcissa hug her, but the younger Black sister could feel her sister limp in her arms. She didn't care. She knew that Bella was distant. "Would you forgive me?"
"Forgive you?" Bella jerked, and looked up to her sister. "For what?"
"For leaving you behind."
"At least I got you out," Bella shrugged into her sister's arms.
Hermione got up. "I think I should go, anyway. You need time together, ladies."
Bellatrix jerked toward Hermione as if she had only now remembered that the third woman was in the room. "Yes, Granger, you should go," she said.
With that, the young witch quickly exited-almost with an indecent haste, though she was 'middle class'-and Narcissa was left to sigh. "I'm not sure she should have, in fact, left. It was her decisive action that saved your life, Bella," she spoke after the door closed, and then slowly got up to pour herself some tea.
"Maybe I don't want her here while we are talking about our childhood and our family," Bellatrix answered, holding her head in her gloved hands. "I don't want our childhood the common knowledge of outsiders, Cissy."
Narcissa closed her eyes. She understood why her sister said what she did. "Alright, Bella. I respect that, of course. Where's… Where's Delphi?"
"She's in the care of the household of the Actual State Councillor for Georgia," Bellatrix answered.
"Another cup of tea, Bella?"
"Did you already send Mardy away?" Bella turned away.
"She returned last night, silly. You're clearly taking care of yourself, since you didn't notice," Narcissa smiled as she began to make the second cup. She knew what her sister's desire really was.
"It was hard for her, it made her feel bad-she could barely do anything to help us while we were in combat, moving fast, it's not an elf's job to maintain the inside of an APC … Merlin, I really kicked over the ant hill, didn't I?"
"You only just now noticed?" A girlish giggle escaped Narcissa's lips as she turned back to her sister with the tea. Properly ensconced with a cup each, they could sit and face each other. The warmth held the winter chill at bay, and Narcissa felt comfortable now.
Bellatrix closed her eyes and sank back in her chair. "Something like that, Cissy."
Narcissa frowned. "You are quite out of it, Bella." Her sister had not been well, but she was usually manic. Narcissa had never quite seen Bellatrix so… Subdued.
"Of course I am," she snarled, and then sighed. "It wasn't your fault they cut my arm off…"
"They cut your arm off!? " Narcissa rocked back, paling. "But, Bella, I don't understand.."
Bellatrix glared at her sister, and then reached over to her left hand with her right, and very slowly peeled the glove off, to reveal the gold artificial hand underneath.
"The Morsmordre," Narcissa gasped, this time. "They excised it from you, didn't they?"
"Some Kazakh steppe witch with a sword and bubbling black Siberian Shaman's brews," Bellatrix answered, eyes wild. "So now I am a 'glorious mutilate'. Fat wonderful lot life has given me, to come and realise it was all a fucking waste to serve Voldemort so I can enjoy being in my fifties and scarred and missing my entire left arm. But I am truly free of Voldemort... "
"And what does that mean for Draco, then?" Narcissa asked, she couldn't help it, her mind wandered immediately to her son and to his own mark that he held, like the one that had been removed from Bellatrix by the terrible act of mutilation.
"He wasn't there to have the mark strengthened by Voldemort through the dark rituals he has practiced since the seizure of power," Bellatrix shrugged. "He's probably fine, though Voldemort certainly knows where he is, but doesn't care enough to try and kill him personally. Perhaps it will have to come off as well… You can give a fuck about your sister instead of immediately worrying about Draco, you know, he'll be fine." Bella glared.
Narcissa sucked in her breath. "We both care about our children, Bella. And I certainly care about my niece deeply, and I hope you do the same for…"
"Of course I love my favourite nephew," Bella answered automatically. Of course, Draco was also her only nephew.
"Bella… " Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment. "Well. I know as mothers we both want our children to be safe and happy, and that's why you came over to us. I won't diminish the fact that we share that. I'm thankful we share that. But of course I'm going to be worried about my son when you suggest he might someday need his arm amputated to stay truly free from Voldemort. "
"I suppose." Bella pulled the glove back on her hand with indecent haste. Narcissa could see that her sister was ashamed.
"They will think you wounded for the war. Maybe you should wear it proudly, so that people know you have sacrificed for the cause you now belong to," Narcissa pressed gently.
"Maybe I should actually be whole so I can enjoy a life!" Bellatrix answered, getting flustered. "I won't. I won't."
"I won't press, then." Narcissa avoided a sigh; this, petulant, easily angered, that was still pure Bella.
"Good."
"I'm so thankful to have you as part of my family again, Bella." Narcissa got up, and once more walked to her sister, setting her tea down. She put her hands out, offering the hug this time.
Bella put her own cup aside, got up, and fell into her sister's arms. She settled in them for a while. "How did little Cissy grow up to be so tall and strong?"
Narcissa smiled, and leaned her head down against Bella's. "You had a lot to do with it, Bella. Never doubt that."
The two women again pulled back from each other to sit, going for their tea. Narcissa felt reassured that the sister she had grown up with was still there, regardless even if the madness that had been seen in the past was real, too. It was a part of her, but so was her resistance to Voldemort, her revolt. " So what will you do, Bella?"
"I don't know… There really isn't any set of good options," Bellatrix murmured.
"You mean for the war?"
"Oh, not that, I…" Bellatrix froze. "It's nothing, Cissy. I don't want to talk about it."
"Then you don't have to," the younger sister stretched and frowned. There was still something odd going on. "Still, the war matters. We're going to shorten the front that you're operating on, so that your units can be refitted, and to give the Confederacy time to prepare supply lines for the equipment that was seized, since we cannot afford to replace it. If that's what you'd rather talk about, I believe the new dividing line between the armies will be Zaporizhia…"
"No, that's not what I'd rather talk about."
"Well, if you don't know what to do for your future," Narcissa coolly pinned her sister with her eyes, "I need a General in command of my Armies."
"I'll take it, but that's not it. Cissy, I heard from Granger that you're," she gritted her teeth, "friends with Andromeda again. After all she put us through, God, why?"
Is that it? Is that really it? Narcissa's face flushed with anger for a moment as she considered ascribing all of Bellatrix's strange behaviour to her distaste with Andy. " Yes, I'm friends with Andy again. I won't say I'm on good terms with my older niece, but my grand-nephew is adorable and our sister is… Our sister. She lost her husband to this war, so did our niece. And Bella—we're not going to have a future if we keep acting like purebloods."
"You are a Malfoy," Bella looked at her trenchantly. "You are a Black. You are Pure. And now you're rejecting this? After all that we have suffered for the sake of it, it's all—for nothing? Narcissa, I was so proud of you, if we get out of this alive, you'll be the British Minister. "
Narcissa couldn't help it. She laughed, but it was not a kind laugh, and it brought Bella's eyes to focus on her immediately. Good. " Bella, my sister, you have ended the old system, the old ways, the old expectations forever. You and your fellow 'Knights of Walpurgis'," she said it gently, invoking better times for Bellatrix, "have ended the system. The statute of secrecy, the Ministries, it's all kicked down. War decides the future now. If we are victorious, fighting alongside the CIS, then I warn you now, the muggles of Europe will be in power. And they will be vengeful. We will be slaves to them, we will be subjected to their legislation, and they will seek to contain and control our powers and end everything magical about us. A limited measure of magic will end up permitted, by tightly controlled wizards and witches, for what they define as the betterment of society. Anyone who reads recent muggle history knows that this is inevitable."
Bellatrix had paled. "Then why, in the name of God why, do you fight with them?"
Narcissa smiled. "Because there was an alternative. I am not the British Minister of Magic in Exile. I am the British Prime Minister in Exile. At some level, you knew that from the intelligence briefings, you just ignored it. Now, my sister, I have taken to leading not merely the British Wizards and Witches in exile, but representing the whole British people. And I will not stop. As Oliver Cromwell said, 'Necessity hath no law'. We are fortunate that you have given me an Army, because now I have real power to enact Necessity. The Statute of Secrecy will never come again. Instead, we must take measures to secure our position in society, and we have the advantage that the muggle elites of Britain have been corrupted into serving Voldemort. Even if it was with the Imperious curse, the average muggle in subjugation to His power does not care, Bella. There will be no forgiveness. But if I control the hangman's noose and the Attainder of Parliament, then I am their path to Royal Clemency. So you see, I am going to save our houses, our people, and our children from subjugation to the Muggles. I am going to do it by taking power. We will do not what they want, but what is good for them. So I have taught myself to be polite and respectful with muggles, to joke with them, to listen politely and respectfully to them, to wear a little flag pin on my lapel and dress in muggle clothes. And in the circumstances, it is over and done with, of course we are personally Toujours Pur, but you know, like the Russian families, it will be better for us to act like conventional aristocrats, and to accept that all Wizards and Witches are our natural allies of necessity, and we will need the half-bloods and muggles to love and honour what we create for us to have a chance to survive. "
With narrow eyes, Narcissa held her sister's gaze sharply. "I am doing this for Draco. He will not be anyone's slave. He will not be subjugated to anyone. My son has already suffered enough in this life, I will not let anyone come between me and this objective. And the imperative of this is – we magical people do not have any time left for fighting amongst ourselves, except the war of Voldemort against the world. I will use an Act of Parliament to make Nymphadora a noblewoman, if she wants it—I doubt she ever will. I will make her young son a Lord. But to get there, we must act like we care about the muggles. We must act like we respect their social conventions. We must act like we are not beholden to Voldemort's ideology! And it is Voldemort's ideology, now in the eyes of the world, and so it shall forever remain. There's no changing that. And that, my dear sister, means that we must set aside our prejudice against half-bloods and muggle-borns, and grasp the nettle tightly. My reconciliation with Andy and her family is a political necessity."
Bellatrix was looking at her younger sister with an empty tea cup dangling in her hand, frozen in place with her eyes wide and thoughtful. "She hurt us, Narcissa. If she hadn't run off with that fucking mudblood man, father wouldn't have had elves following us and reporting on us to 'protect our virtue', and…"
"I chose Lucius willingly. I was in love. So I moved fast and married young before another Alliance could be arranged which would give me someone I didn't want. And yes, I left you alone, and yes… I'm sorry." Narcissa looked down. "I am not going to marginalise the real pain you felt."
"Good, because I've just spent my entire adult life a slave to it." Bella paused for a beat, and slowly shook her head. "So you want me to associate with mudbloods. Merlin."
"It would show your reform and your new, pure heart," Narcissa answered with saccharine humour. "It would be good for the propaganda cameras."
Bella laughed and shook her head. "Maybe." It was almost coy. "You've done well for yourself, Cissy, but if you fail, we're all going to be put against a wall and shot by the muggles."
"No doubt," Narcissa couldn't help but smile with cool bemusement, though her look grew serious. "But sister, there are so many ways to fail. The solution to all of them is to succeed. You will command my Army?"
Bella giggled. Naturally she did. "Of course, Madame Prime Minister."
Notes:
Attainder - a legislative act of the British Parliament providing, licitly, for punishment without a trial, because Parliamentary supremacy allows for the judgement to be held by Parliament. Not used in several hundred years, but Churchill proposed it for the punishment of the Nazis in WW2. "Attainted" is the term for someone who has been subject to an Act Attainder.
"Glorious Mutilate" - this is an extremely literal translation of "Glorioso mutilado", the sobriquet given to José Millán Astray, the founder of the Spanish Foreign Legion, for his lost limbs in combat. "Glorious Amputee" is a more common translation. Because of the presence of men like General Diaz in her forces who had served in the Spanish Legion, Bella would be familiar with the term.