Gather Ye Rosebuds
Somewhere on the list of things that Hermione Granger had never expected to do with her life was have sex with Bellatrix Black. Somewhere even further down that list, incongruously, had probably been "bake bread with Bellatrix Black". But, tear into a piping hot loaf of bread she had, with tea and varenye, having successfully baked up the loaf from their supply of ingredients that Larissa had left for them.
Bellatrix sat with her legs crossed on a kitchen stool, looking absolutely fabulous for it. She was dressed in her classic black, not a uniform, now. They had been on vacation for a few days, and every night, they had sex, and Hermione felt a compulsive urge to write it down in a diary, even though she wasn't keeping one.
The kitchen flickered with magical light, and Bellatrix at her bread, leaned back until the stool tipped, and her back braced into the counter-top, occasionally taking a sip of her tea. It was so relaxed that Hermione never wanted it to end, though her innate curiosity warred with that sentiment.
In fact, what she knew of Bellatrix was mostly from experience. Since their flight from England those years ago, Andromeda and Narcissa had not exactly shared much with the former members of the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army, what their home life had been. Bellatrix had confided her past loves, and her passion for a theory of magic to incorporate magical manipulation of electricity. Hermione was certainly tempted to ask her many questions about the later, but Bellatrix felt she could no longer practice it, and the younger witch was wary of bringing up things that would remind Bella of what she had lost.
So she asked about something else, instead. Or, at least, a more open question. She topped her tea off, and then settled, facing Bellatrix. "Bella, would you tell me about your family? I mean, the history of the House of Black in general. If I'm going to help raise Delphini, I should be able to help her to feel pride in her ancestors."
Bellatrix stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Or maybe a third.
For a moment, Hermione was intensely uncomfortable with the expression. What did I just fuck up? She wondered.
"...Pet, you actually want to know? To help me raise Delphini?" Bella's voice sounded small, as if with disbelief, like she half thought she was being mocked.
Hermione jerked her head in assent. "Absolutely. Bella, I can see from the way you interact that family is enormously important to all of you—yourself, Narcissa, Andromeda. Even Andromeda… Maybe especially Andromeda."
As much as Hermione hated to admit it, the wince that produced from Bellatrix was reassuring. Though Bella still gave Andromeda a hard time, it seemed tempered with a growing attachment, which caused her to regret the length of time she had spent away from her sister. It seemed positive that Bella cared enough to now feel a measure of shame. Hermione just hated being reassured by her girlfriend's shame.
"Yes well. We are Blacks, and even Andy knows this," Bella answered idly. "As for the history of my house? We are witches and wizards, and we have been since time immemorial."
"...And I believe it. But what does that mean?"
"On the Distaff, my most ancient ancestors did their magic at the peat-bogs along the coast of Lancashire at Blackpool, where the city gains its name, from the streams that, running through the bogs, sent black water into the sea," Bella began, refilling her tea. "Pure Celtic, their name actually means something similar to the patrilineal side's—the House of Dubh. That is, Black, in Celtic. They were Brigantes before the Romans."
"Huh. You're descended from two lines named Black."
"Approximately so." Bellatrix seemed bemused. "On the patrilineal side, we are descended from the House of Black, who were Angles who settled in Lindsey, south of the Humber, in the year 540 of the Christian count."
Hermione blinked. "...Wait, you know the exact year your male-side ancestors settled in Britain in the sixth century?"
Bella smirked. "Of course. They are so awful at teaching you muggle-borns anything substantial about magical history. That includes the fact that magical history is far more complete than among muggles. An illiterate witch is useless. We've always written, since the days we burned runes to wood with our wands. The reality is that the whole 20th century, Hogwarts has been dominated by half-blood Gryffindors and blood traitors, favouring…" Bella looked suspiciously at Hermione as if she expected the woman to object to her use of the term blood traitor.
But Hermione just listened. It wasn't a slur against her, and she understood what Bella meant. If she had been a Slytherin, she would have, she felt, been justifiably infuriated with how Dumbledore had blatantly favoured the students of other Houses. How many people did that drive toward Voldemort, anyway? There was no way to know now, of course.
"Well, Hogwarts was fucked up when I went there," Bella finally settled for, relaxing when Hermione didn't complain. "Dumbledore was an ass to the Slytherin students, and never gave a reason."
"Yes, he was," Hermione acknowledged aloud. "I'd have been furious if he treated me that way. I didn't think about it at the time, though, I was just…"
"Happy to win?" Bella cackled. "How Slytherin of you. Perhaps House Slytherin could better be called 'House Human Nature'. We've always been honest in the way you lions haven't, Pet."
The younger witch flushed. "All right, I admit, I wanted to win very badly. I wanted to prove myself." She fixed a stare on Bella. "But you like that about me, don't you?"
"Of course I do." Her voice changed abruptly to more of an ominous tone. "Try to be less of a hypocrite about it, pet."
"Maybe," Hermione sniffed, "I just want the world to be a better place."
"How naive."
"Suit yourself. You changed, after all." She couldn't help grinning broadly.
"Do you want to hear about my family or not?" Bella changed the subject, back to the original subject. Of course.
Hermione nodded. "I do, so I'll let it drop."
"Very well then. So, in the seventh century, part of the Lordly House of Blaec converted to Christianity; the wizarding side refused to convert, and ultimately, fled to the west to escape the influence of the Bishops. By that point, the whole of the Cumbric lands was under the reign of the Kingdom of Northumberland, but in the isolated parts of the west—in what would be Lancashire—the folk still spoke Cumbric and knew better than to bother with the business of Sorcerers. The Church-men, though, roamed through the land and preached the Gospel, and it went like it did for the Caliph Umar before the Temple of Fire."
Hermione sucked in her breath. The memory of that was still raw. She closed her eyes and shivered. "How did they win?"
"Did they? Blaec married Dubh, and in the end, as the meanings of the words themselves merged together in the tongue of the age, became simply the House of Black. We endure."
"Well, Britain is Christian, and so is Wizarding Britain, and …"
Bella smirked savagely. "I'm not. I promise you my sisters aren't, either. We also speak Cumbric."
"The language is extinct!"
"Not among Wizarding families of the North-West."
"...Will you teach me?" Hermione's eyes shone.
And now, Bella smiled without any false pretences at all, and nodded. Her pale skin seemed to shine in the magical light of the kitchen. "I'm glad you care enough to ask, pet. I will. Shall we retire to the sitting room?"
"By all means," Hermione agreed, and used her wand to command the Samovar to float along after them. Sometimes, she felt like she had nicely upped her game in terms of class-based behaviours. Being around the Black Sisters so much had made her start to speak in a more courtly language that she had not known before.
With the samovar on a table in front of them, Hermione settled onto the settee, with Bellatrix… Settling down at her side. The two women together were pressed up against each other, in body and thigh, and it was sensuously comfortable.
They poured more tea, and Hermione collected her thoughts. "All right. So where does the motto come from? I admit, I thought you might be Norman, like the Malfoys, because of the motto. And your connection to the Lestrange."
Bellatrix cackled, but leaned back easily, slipping an arm around Hermione in a way that made her feel comfortable, while she drank her tea. "I married Lestrange. I'm no closer to them than all the Anglo-French pureblood houses are to each other."
"Then how did you end up with a French motto?"
"The Harrying of the North. Of course, we resisted the Norman conquest in any way that we could. But, magical resistance, like armed resistance generally, was impossible against the sorcerers we faced. Thus began the first great dying of British magical culture… The second was when we let all the muggle-borns in." Bellatrix paused, and stiffened.
Hermione pursed her lips. "Can you name a moment when your culture died because of people like me, Bella?"
Bellatrix withdrew her arm. She leaned away from Hermione, but, she did also turn to look directly at the younger woman. "Pet, it's just what I was taught, so I said it."
"So. It's not true, but you just repeated it anyway out of habit?"
Bellatrix seemed torn between her love and her pride. Her eyes met Hermione's, but she didn't speak. Finally, she nodded her head in assent.
Non-vocal though it was, Hermione accepted it. She leaned in closer, insistently, and hugged Bella from the side. "All right. Please do continue. I am intensely fascinated. I do want to learn Cumbric."
"We fled to France, to find refuge with the enemies of the Tyrant William," Bellatrix answered. "Other Anglo-Saxon families of rank fled to Scandinavia, and others to Scotland; a larger group, with many more retainers, even went to Constantinople, and settled part of the Crimean."
"Really? The Crimean? Do they have any descendants?"
"In fact, yes—if you ask your friend Larissa, she'd be able to tell you she's descended in a very small part from a British magic family through her Tatar side." Bellatrix waved idly. "Beyond all the spell-books, a pureblood girl is expected to be well-versed in the detailed genealogies of Miskvart's Wizarding Almanach. These are the things they don't bother to teach to you. Anyway, the House of Black ended up in France, serving Count Fulk le Rechin. We were loyal French, but we kept our British magic."
"Exile." Hermione reached for her tea again. "Well, I know that feeling."
"You do, pet," Bellatrix admitted with a wry smirk. "For me, I don't feel so exiled, for I still have an Army."
It was a little bit of a thoughtless dig born of privilege, but in fact, Hermione chose not to see it that way. Bella's Army was her Army in the way it counted—as a hope for the future of Britain. "How did you return to England?"
"Oh, quite simple – centuries past, all of the principles of that bitter age were dead, even with the long lives we witches are blest with. My ancestors dearly wished to return to England—our family magic was attuned to the British soil, and British climate, and British ways—and took advantage of the Treaty of Troyes to do so—though a branch of the family remains in Maine. The loyalty of our house to King Henry's claim by treaty to the French throne, was rewarded with lands in our native Lancashire, which we have held since."
There was something studious in Bella explaining all of this. Something like the Brightest Witch of Her Age talking to the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Something comfortably book-worm, history-nerd about it all, a nice space for Hermione to occupy. It was sweet, and it was different the impulsive Bella. Different from the Bella who had learned all her adult life to be rewarded for her impulsivity. A hint of a different universe, a different reality where none of the stupid pure blood customs existed and if they'd been born at the same time they could have been friends at school, the two smartest girls showing up all the boys together.
Maybe even dated, and come upon this relationship they had, a bit more honestly.
It's honest enough to be love, isn't it? Hermione accused herself.
Bella was looking to her. The look was intent, thoughtful, and perhaps a bit dangerous. It promptly ended Hermione's reverie.
"Ah, Bella…?"
"Let's start you learning Cumbric," the older witch grinned.
It was only a few days, but it was wonderful. They shopped and amused themselves in Kitezh. Bellatrix seemed so comfortable in a city purely of magic. They teased each other, and acted a bit flirty. They bathed, often, in the private banya of the Naryshkin, which was heated magically, considering fires couldn't be had (safely, anyway), under the magic globe encompassing Kitezh. Bella was still demanding, and tended to expect Hermione to cook the food herself, but other than that, it was a remarkably laid back few days, a comfortable relationship.
A hint of normality, with a lot of sex on the side. One might almost call it idyllic, for all that there was a war going on. They had dared great things together. The dust of the 7th century still seemed to linger in their noses. Now they just spent a great deal of time doing very little at all.
Were it that it could last longer than a few days. In fact, the respite from thinking about anything at all lasted for four days. They were in fact the only four days that Hermione had remembered as comfortable and nice since her Hogwarts days, without looming fear. In France, after they had escaped Britain, she had waited for the hammer to fall. In Russia, she had certainly kept herself too busy to even really think. Until now, anyway.
The moment when the world intruded again had been a knock on the door, while they were sharing some freshly baked bread on the couch for a light breakfast.
"Did you arrange a delivery?" Bellatrix asked, not bothering to look up.
"No.." Hermione answered, setting her plate down on the low table in front of the couch, close by the ubiquitous samovar.
"Well, check it please," Bellatrix directed, idly reaching for her wand.
Of course she first thinks of a conspiracy against her, though, Hermione had to admit, it was not unwarranted. She made sure of her own wand ready, and wandered over to the door of the flat. Nobody should be able to visit who was not a member of Russian Wizarding society or one of their guests, but still, it was best to be safe.
The lack of tension over the past few days was more amazing for the way it snapped back into place, like the tension of a spring at once released, coiling into her muscles, every sense and sensation sharpening, the forms of movement which called forth combat spells slipping unbidden into her mind, ready to act without thinking. Ready to kill.
Something as simple as going to the door to check for an unexpected ring of the bell had changed forever.
For all that, it was rather simple. Hermione tossed a bathrobe over her light clothes, and checked the enchanted mirror in the door which showed the other side, broadly enough to clear it from not just the visitor, but anyone who might be lurking.
It was fine: Narcissa Malfoy was at their door. "Bella, it's Narcissa."
"...What's she doing here?" Bellatrix sighed audibly. "Oh well, do let her in, pet."
Hermione opened the door. "Narcissa, come in, and make yourself at home."
Narcissa had dressed heavily, but carried her outer coat, since inside the un-frozen part of the lake, the temperature was about a constant 1 – 2 degrees centigrade at this depth. She smiled. "Hermione. Thank you."
Permitted informality or not, Hermione stepped back, and held the door open at attention. Narcissa breezed past her like that was the most normal thing in the world, and put her outer coat, and then the inner, up on the racks at the front. "Going to greet your sister, Bella?" She called out.
"I'm feeling lazy," the elder Black sister replied.
"As honest as always, Bella," Narcissa replied with a matter-of-fact and dignified tone, but Hermione, as she shut and latched the door again, could hear the real, intense warmth in her voice despite it all. "At least now you have someone in your life more polite than you are. It's certainly one of Hermione's virtues in comparison to Monsieur Lestrange."
"Still glad he's dead, Cissy!" Bellatrix cried out.
"I have no doubt," the younger sister stepped into the sitting room, with Hermione following her. In fact, for all of her diffident attitude, Bellatrix had stood up, and as Narcissa entered the room, enfolded her in a hug.
"Cissy."
"Bella. You look well. And I do mean that."
"The effects of Ararat and the Water of Life, I suppose, for what good it was;" Bellatrix waved a hand as she disentangled from her sister and turned back. "Sit, drink tea, the samovar is hot as always, Cissy."
"One, those effects were very good for you, Bella," Narcissa said matter-of-factly as she moved to sit. "Two, it's more than that."
Hermione followed her in and moved to sit next to Bella again, just for Bella, lounging about in an evening robe tossed over a dress, to reach out and grab her. "Well, I suppose she helps."
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You'll mortify Hermione, dear."
Hermione had, in fact, started blushing.
Bella waved a hand idly and smirked. "Perhaps I like doing that. So what brought you here, Cissy? I doubt it was just an idle chat, considering the place is Unplottable and you …"
"Unplottable? Well, the city is, but you can certainly apparate to the lake."
Bella's eyes widened. "But Andy drove me here in some old muggle car on one of those damned icy Russian roads!"
"I'd say she played you very well, Bella," Cissy smirked right back.
"ANDY! BETRAYER!" Bella exclaimed in indignation "Why…!" The elder Black sister sighed and sank back into the couch, a hand going for Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione desperately tried not to giggle.
Bella's eyes flared. "Betrayer! Don't you even start!"
"All right. All right," Hermione said hastily, though only partially succeeding at avoiding the laughter. She looked up to Narcissa and hid a grin as best as she could. "While this has been very amusing…"
"SPEAK FOR YOURSELF!" Bella seemed unable to realise how funny her indignation was about Andy and the car.
"...You still probably came for more than to socialise," Hermione continued, shaking her head and grinning.
"I understand that Andy has loved automobiles for quite some time," Narcissa observed dryly to her elder sister.
Bella rolled her eyes. "Muggle death traps. I could have apparated to the lake, after all..."
"Yes, quite, Bella. But you're here now, so let's all settle down with our tea, because what we're discussing is important, and it's going to take time."
"I am on vacation, Cissy," Bella side-eyed her.
"There won't be a real vacation until Voldemort is defeated, and we are back in Britain," Narcissa said rather tartly, as she stirred cherry varenye into her tea. "And that's exactly what I've come to talk about, Bella, Hermione. Voldemort's defeat, and Britain. You know he has moved to take personal command of the Army in the Near East?"
"Yes, we're aware," Hermione answered for Bellatrix, who with pursed lips and an intensely distracted expression, was refilling her own tea.
"We are in contact with a prominent figure in Voldemort's Navy, which has predominantly British officers and men." The younger Black sister spoke levelly, but her voice still commanded immediate attention, with Bellatrix snapping to look at her. "I have received the support of the allied governments. We will be mustering our forces in Norway with the spring."
Hermione sucked in her breath and stared. It was audacious in the extreme. She could not believe that the allies had agreed to it.
Bellatrix stared at her sister. "An… An invasion of Britain. While Voldemort is in Syria, directing the offensive toward Ararat."
"Yes, precisely so. If the fleet defects, the Russian Navy, and the Scandinavian naval forces, can cover the landings with it. I intend, Bellatrix, for you to be in overall command of the operation, though I will be there personally."
Bella sucked in her breath. "Cissy, you are the Head of Government. Let me handle the entire operation. And did we really need to discuss it now?"
"People will switch sides to follow the instructions of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. General Black? I'm sorry, Bella… I need to be there. Also, I am a trained combat witch just like yourself. You know that. There is no pureblood girl who does not know how to fight, and I have had cause to do it before." Cissy's eyes narrowed. "This will be everything. We are not safe unless we reclaim Britain."
"Maybe I want to gather my rosebuds while I may. And maybe, I want to keep my little sister safe." Bellatrix bowed her head.
Narcissa stared, silent, for a moment; then she briskly shook her head. "I am sorry, Bella, but there's nothing to keep me safe from anymore. I made my own accommodation with the world. I love you as my sister, and I forgive you, because I know why you did what you did, and it was with my own interests in mind. But, it made me the woman I am, and a beau geste now can't change that. The point is, this. We must engineer a large-scale defection of wizards and military forces."
"All right." Bella stared into her tea, and Hermione thought her expression might be outright glum. "Well, it's not enough to deal with the fleet," she answered her sister's appeal. "They will apparate and use the portkeys and Floo network to send back terrorists to attack the advance and rally resistance. They will use the Chunnel to send over divisions from the continent. The Dark Lord will make the war scorched Earth from one end of Britain to the other, rather than lose it."
"I want to prepare a plan to destroy the Chunnel."
"How?" Bella looked up. "It's the nightmare of all good Britons. I am sure our ancestresses had nightmares of such a working of magic, in the days of Caesar. An Army in possession of both ends—and that they are, for we must land in Scotland, if we are to land at all, our forces carried over from Norway—can safely count on reinforcement from all the rest of Europe. If we manage to get across the Firth of Forth in those circumstances before we are stopped by the mass of the enemy against us, I should think myself the most brilliant military commander who has ever lived! It's too deep to be easily targeted, and it's been warded against any kind of attack, conventional or magical."
"What about nuclear weapons?" Narcissa looked sharp at her sister.
"...Detonating above the Chunnel? They won't actually even damage it," Bella cackled. "Sorry."
"Actually…" Hermione pursed her lips, thinking through the array of Russian weaponry. "What about anti-submarine nuclear weapons?"
Bella mocking faked a yawn. "Not enough range, pet. They'd have to get close—the ships would have to get past …" She grimaced, "Azkaban."
"So it is a fortress again? The intelligence analysis I read was not sure." Narcissa sat down her tea, now empty.
"Yes. As great of a magical strongpoint as can be made."
"Well, I intend to destroy it as well," Cissy shrugged, and looked levelly at her sister. "Do you think we can make it work, if we can destroy the Chunnel, and disrupt their reinforcements?"
Bella leaned into Hermione, grabbing her by the shoulders, her body canted at an almost lascivious angle. "I suppose it will let me have fun trying. Frankly, Cissy, it all comes down to how many of the wizards and officers you get to defect. So tell me. What handsome young British sorcerer have you seduced into thinking thoughts of treason, hmm?"
For a moment, Hermione was sure that Narcissa was going to lose it with Bella. But then, she just smirked wickedly, and met her sister's expression with one of her own: Confident, dangerous, and the true mistress of the situation. "I would say, sister-dear, that he seduced himself."
Notes:
1. Miskvart's Wizarding Almanach - my Wizarding equivalent of the Almanach de Gotha, the comprehensive listing of all the Peers of Europe. To be "in the Almanach" was to be recognised at the highest level of the old European aristocracy. The Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Naryshkin would all certainly be featured.
2. In creating the family tree of the House of Black I included some typical features-such as a connection to France-from other fiction, but also tried to firmly ground them in a history of very long and well established British wizarding lineages dating back to Celtic times. I wanted to centre the family on Lancashire because of the commonality of the name Black there, but in the peerage, the only occurrence of the name Black outside of modern times was in Lincolnshire dating to the 7th century, and those Anglo-Saxon nobles fled to Scotland. However, from this, I was able to put together an entertaining family tree... And The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black certainly deserves one of those.
3. Azkaban was originally a fortress, and one must imagine that, to be useful as one in the midst of the North Sea, it had to have some kind of magical weaponry of considerable power...
4. Yes, there really was a Byzantine-founded colony of New England in the Crimean for Anglo-Saxon exiles from the Norman Conquest!
In conclusion - did anyone really doubt Andy would try to have some fun with her sister like that? :-)
