Here we go again. Someone pointed out that they felt the last chapter had been a bit rushed - kudos to them for actually recognizing that it has in fact been written fairly quickly. Sorry for that. I hope I did better with this one, it definitely cost me way more time than intended haha.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10

POV Hermione

Another two weeks had passed since Hermione's class examination. She was still very proud of herself for getting almost entirely positive feedback. Maybe becoming a teacher at Hogwarts wasn't that much of a hopeless endeavor after all.

Hermione had also found herself getting along quite well with Madame Miraforum, one of the two ministry officials. They had quickly discovered their shared interest in old runes and Hermione had already ordered one of her books to read later on.

The other witch, however, Miss Katerfield, had been much more of a mystery to Hermione. Despite being quite kind about her lesson and only giving constructive feedback, the feeling she gave Hermione was a little bit odd.

She had caught the other witch intensely staring at her when she had probably thought she was too deep in discussion with Madame Miraforum to notice. It had almost seemed as if she had been desperately trying to read Hermione, to find something about her that would make her vulnerable. So, Hermione had been overly-cautious to keep her mental barriers up and had always been taking an extra minute to carefully overthink her words, before she answered a question of the other witch. Hermione had also noticed the strange tone her voice had been taking, whenever Professor Black's mentorship had been mentioned. It had almost appeared as if the two witches had had some sort of shared history and Hermione had been quite curious to learn more about this at some later point.

Right now, however, talking with Professor Black about something as banal as some potentially long-forgotten quarrel was definitely out of the question.

In fact, the older witch was the main reason why Hermione couldn't be entirely happy about her achievement. The missing approval of Black had hit Hermione deeper than she cared to admit. Ever since the day she had her pressed against the wall and Hermione had come so incredibly close to tasting that deliciously red lips, Professor Black was treating her worse than ever before.

Where only a couple of days ago had been playful banter and teasing comments, occasionally even a true smile, was now nothing but a rare snarky remark pointing out one of Hermione's foolish mistakes. Black was fully back to her cold, defensive self. She offered Hermione barely more than a quick glance in her direction, always left her classes right after, without a word and whenever she actually bothered to give Hermione some sort of feedback, it always arrived late at night in form of a short, scribbled note, delivered her owl.

Hermione would never admit it out loud but the rejection hurt her. She really thought she and Professor Black were getting somewhere and now she seemed further away from her than ever before.

Another reason for Hermione's broody mood was the fact that slowly but surely, Christmas was coming closer. When she was a child, Christmas had been her favorite holiday. She had loved the excitement it had brought her, the joy of unwrapping presents and completely overeating herself, and had enjoyed all the time she had spent with her family. But by now, Christmas had only turned into another tool of showing her what she had lost. It reminded her too much of Ron, of the happy times she had spent with all of the Weasley's at the Burrow. Last year, her friends and family had been doing their best to help her forget, to help themselves forget, but when they sat around Molly's table, the two empty seats were more present than ever before.

Above all, her nightmares had come back. They hadn't been that frequent and hadn't felt that real ever since she started teaching at Hogwarts. Now, she barely managed to sleep at night and was getting more and more exhausted with each passing day. She had given up on sleeping potions months ago because they always left her with a numb feeling and a horrible headache, but at this point, she was seriously considering giving them another try.

Now, there was only one thing Hermione always did when she was sad and exhausted – loading herself with even more work, to somehow distract herself from her thoughts. That was why she had immediately volunteered when McGonagall had been looking for volunteers to help with the Christmas ball preparations.

Hermione dived right into the preparations. As time was passing, she could feel herself getting genuinely excited for the ball and was confident that it would give her some kind of distraction from everything happening.

One afternoon she met up with Ginny in Diagon Alley to go dress shopping. She usually hated that kind of stuff but Ginny had made it her personal goal to find the perfect outfit for Hermione.

"You know Mione, there will not only be your students at that ball. They will bring their families, especially their potentially very hot older brothers." Ginny suggestively wiggled her eyebrows. "You never know who you are going to meet."

Hermione only shrugged her shoulders, not even bothering to explain to Ginny that a hot older brother wasn't exactly what she was looking for right now. A hot, older professor on the other hand… But trying to explain that to Ginny would probably not exactly be a very smart move. So, for now, she kept her mouth shut and let her best friend drag her from one shop to the next.

In the end, however, she had to admit that the dress Ginny had found was absolutely gorgeous. It's cream-colored fabric, was clinging tight to her body and hugged all of her curves in exactly the right places. The round neckline showed just the right amount of cleavage to still feel appropriate. On its fabric were tiny, silver, woven ornaments that stretched over the whole dress, seamlessly transitioning onto its train.

When the day of the ball was finally there, Ginny also insisted on personally coming to the castle to help Hermione to get ready. Hermione really didn't want to make such a fuss but once the red-head had been pretty persistent.

After Ginny spent way too much time and effort using several spells on Hermione's hair and face and helped her into her dress, she looked at her, obviously very pleased with her work. Hermione's hair was falling in soft, shiny curls down on her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. Ginny had colored her lips in a dark shade of red but kept the rest of the make-up relatively light and natural, putting the focus mainly on the absolutely gorgeous dress.

Ginny nodded approvingly.

"Even if there is nobody in specific that you try to impress," Now why were images of Professor Black already starting to flash up in her mind again? "But all eyes will be on you that night!" Well, as long as one specific pair of chocolate brown eyes was among them, then so be it.

Hermione took a last deep breath and then made her way down to the Great Hall.

After she arrived in the Great Hall, quite a few heads were turning in her direction. Hermione felt a bit awkward. By now she might've gotten used to her students staring at her during her classes, but that was an entirely different matter. She sent out some shy smiles but was mainly trying to stay low.

She was grateful when McGonagall showed up on her side and eagerly engaged her in a conversation about the schedule for the night. Still, Hermione couldn't quite help herself and constantly scanned the hall for a familiar mess of black curls.

When she finally spotted said black curls, she had to stop her mouth from falling open on its own accord. Was it even legal to show up to a school ball dressed like that? Ironically, the first thing Hermione noticed, was that Professor Black was missing her usual corset. Not that it would've been necessary, her strapless dress was so tight, that it naturally lifted up her breasts in a way that made it impossible not to stare. To absolutely nobody's surprise, was the dress colored in a deep black, complemented by some threads of gold, weaving an elegant pattern into the fabric. Her black mane was tamed in an impressive updo, emphasizing the elegant features of her face. As Professor Black started to gracefully move through the crowd, Hermione noticed with a gulp, that the dress also had a slit, that reached almost up to her thigh and revealed deliciously creamy skin with every step.

The room suddenly felt very hot.

"Hermione, dear, did you hear me? Are you alright?" McGonagall's slightly worried voice pulled her out of her drooling and she forced herself to tear her eyes away from her mentor.

"Sorry, yes I'm fine don't worry. I will just head outside for a while to get some air."

After Hermione went outside and took a couple of minutes to calm herself, she returned to the party. She desperately wanted to walk over to Professor Black and talk to her, maybe get her a drink, but definitely get her out of this dress and into her bed.

"Damn it, not again." Hermione internally cursed herself for her thoughts inappropriately drifting off to the older witch yet again.

She cannot be interested in Black like that, after all, the older witch had made it more than clear that she wasn't interested in Hermione in that way. That nothing would ever happen between them. In fact, if Black could hear her thoughts rights now, she would probably rip her apart right in front of everyone – and not in a good way.

So, Hermione forced herself to put her focus back on the crowd of people in front of her.

This turned out to be not one of her smartest decisions. The loud music, the dancing, and laughing people, the slight smell of sweat in the air was slowly starting to get to her. It all started to trigger memories deep inside of Hermione. Memories she had been trying to suppress at all cost. Memories of the last time she was one of the people wildly dancing in the crowd, completely carefree, not knowing what had been about to hit her. Memories of Ron playfully twirling her around, a huge grin on his face. Memories of Bill and Fleur happily cheering to their wedding guests. Memories of Kingsley's Patronus appearing inside the tent, replacing the joyful atmosphere with nothing but fear and panic. Memories of everything going downhill from there.

Hermione was grabbing the nearest wall, in an attempt to steady herself. She tried to calm her breathing, letting her gaze wander through the hall, looking for something to focus on. What she found were two dark brown orbs piercing into her.

She locked her own gaze with the one of Professor Black, standing at the other side of the room and much to her own surprise, the older witch didn't look away, but hold her gaze, her face completely blank. They kept staring at each other like that for what felt to Hermione like minutes but were probably only a couple of seconds.

This moment reminded Hermione a lot of the Sorting Hat ceremony in the Great Hall at the beginning of the term. Yet again, Black seemed to sense her distress through the whole room. This time, however, Hermione didn't back down. This time she held Professor Black's gaze and tried to put all the questions she didn't dare to ask in their silent exchange.

Why do you always pretend not to care, when you probably care more than anyone else? Why are you so afraid of letting anyone in? Of letting me in? Why did you push me away? What am I to you?

There was no way that Black had managed to read her thoughts in a room like this, crowded with people, still, Hermione was almost certain to see a flash of understanding wash over the older witch's face. Understanding and… regret?

Just when it looked like Professor Black would actually start to make her way through the dancing people towards Hermione, she felt a tiny hand on her arm. Looking to her right, she discovered Professor Flitwick, a slightly worried look on his face. Apparently, Professor Black wasn't the only Hogwarts teacher that was paying attention to the behavior of the people around them.

"Miss Granger, you look like you've seen a ghost." His voice was warm and concerned, yet he didn't push Hermione for any form of justification. Instead, he only raised an eyebrow in question. "I feel like you could use a distraction." Then he offered her his arm. "Care for a dance?"

Hermione smiled warmly at the man and nodded, grateful for something to help her mind getting away from its dark thoughts. Still, when she followed Flitwick on the dancefloor, it was with a little regret about her interrupted exchange with Black. She was sure she could still feel the other witch's gaze burning in her back when she slowly made her way to the center of the room.

Her former Charms professor was a surprisingly good dancer and soon enough Hermione was really starting to enjoy herself. At some point she noticed Black leaving the Great Hall out of the corner of her eye, but before she could pay any more attention to it, Flitwick started to twirl her around again and Hermione let out a heartfelt, loud laugh.

Then the music changed – and Hermione froze on the spot. Of all songs in the universe, a muggle song started to play. It was "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire. It had been one of Hermione's favorite songs – until it was played at Bill and Fleur's wedding, only seconds before Kingsley's Patronus had arrived and everything had gone to chaos.

Hermione felt the all too familiar tightening in her chest. The struggle to catch a breath was stronger than ever before. She barely managed to press out a rushed "Excuse me" in the broad direction of Professor Flitwick, then she turned around and made her way towards the door. She was forcing herself not to run, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, but she could already feel the tears starting to build up behind her eyes. As soon as she exited the hall, she couldn't hold herself back anymore and tears started to stream down her face. Her steps turned hastier, her thoughts were spiraling and she couldn't see clearly anymore. Her only goal was to get as far away from that music and all the people celebrating as possible.

She turned around a corner and then felt herself running into a by now all too familiar obstacle. Despite her current state, she didn't even have to look up to comprehend who she had just crashed into, the hem of a black silk dress with golden ornaments told her more than she needed to know. Still, she tried to collect herself, then lifted her gaze and stared directly at Professor Black.

The other witch had an annoyed expression on her face and was probably just about to let out a snarky remark about Hermione not even being able to walk without messing up when her eyes landed on the tear-stained face of the younger witch, and her whole expression changed immediately.

"What happened?" Professor Black was struggling to keep her voice emotionless. Hermione could hear her worried undertone. At that moment, the real Bellatrix Black was making one of her rare appearances. She was back to the person Hermione had started to get to know her as before everything went downhill and Black had run away from her.

"It's nothing," Hermione muttered, not quite trusting her voice.

But Black was not having it.

"Yeah, well obviously. You're running around completely distraught. You are crying hysterically and barely manage to form coherent words." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "But that's obviously just normal behavior. Happens every day just because you feel like it."

Hermione only sniffed, but Black wasn't letting her off the hook that easily.

"Granger, seriously, cut the crap. What is going on?"

Her insistence made something inside Hermione snap.

"You want to know what's going on? Well, I'll tell you what's going on." Her words came out louder and more aggressive than she intended, but she couldn't care less. "I act calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm so angry at myself that I think I'm going to explode. All the misery and pain I've seen and just can't let go of makes me want to scream. My own weakness makes me want to scream, the way how within minutes, the tiniest things can trigger a breakdown that will make me forget everything around me. I need to let go; I need to move on – but I just can't. Instead, I lock everything down. I lock it down because I have to be calm and rational because that's how everyone expects me to be."

Hermione was panting now, completely caught up in her outburst. Black was only watching her, a calm expression on her face. But Hermione didn't give her any time to reply anyway.

"Whenever I feel like I finally got it together, something else happens that throws me off completely. I get upset about the tiniest things. Heck, last night I cried because I miss my otter."

Under different circumstances, the look of pure confusion on Black's face would've made Hermione laugh. Now, she only hurried to clarify.

"My Patronus. Can you believe that I can't even produce a Patronus anymore since I have watched Ronald die? People had to deal with so many losses, with so much worse than me, yet here I am – the weak muggleborn, too overwhelmed to deal with her own grief."

Her voice faded into a quiet whisper, slowly breaking away and she could feel the tears welling up again.

"I am completely broken."

Until then, Black still hadn't said a single word. She had only stood there, frozen in place, and had listened to Hermione's outburst. But now she did something, that probably surprised herself just as much as Hermione.

Black slowly stepped forward tentatively, hesitance written all over her face. Still, she slowly wrapped her arms around the slightly shaking Hermione, pulling her into a stiff hug.

The hug caught Hermione off-guard and she didn't quite know how to react. She only stood there in the cold hallway, arms pressed to her sides, haltingly accepting that little gesture of comfort.

Then, Black was slowly leaning forward, carefully adjusting a strand of Hermione's hair behind her ear. Hermione could feel her lips moving incredibly close to her skin, could feel Professor Black's breath. Her voice was barely audible to Hermione when she let out a quick, yet insistent whisper. "You are not broken."

She patted her back awkwardly and then took a step back, obviously very uncomfortable with the intimacy of the whole situation. Hermione also noticed, that for once it was Professor Black who kept fidgeting with her hands and couldn't quite look her in the eyes.

After a moment of silence, Hermione coughed in an attempt to ease some of the tension.

"Thank you."

The older witch only nodded, still taking a great interest in the tip of her boots.

Hermione was trying to find the right words to say but only managed to let out a helpless stutter.

"Well… then…"

Then, Black finally seemed to remember how her tongue worked.

She sent another one of her rare, honest smiles in Hermione's direction.

"Goodnight Hermione."

A warm feeling was starting to build inside Hermione's stomach, slowly washing away some of the pain and exhaustion these last days had caused her.

"Goodnight Bellatrix."

With that, each of the witches turned around and stalked away to their quarters. Hermione was still pretty shaken up by the events of the evening, but she couldn't stop a small, tentative smile from sneaking onto her face when she slowly started to process what had just happened.