The Last Night
At that moment, as Hermione was assessing the situation, a figure silently stepped out of the shadows along the back wall. Dignified and white-haired, with sad eyes. Bellatrix looked up and recognised her, and through the fog of exhaustion and emotional hardship, Hermione's brain clicked, and she did as well.
Tamar Dadiani.
But, if she's here… Oh, oh.
"Best for you not to go alone on the raid to seize Nagini," she addressed Bellatrix.
"If anything goes even slightly wrong, it will mean our deaths," Bellatrix tossed her head back and looked up to regard her. Now, unlike when Bellatrix negotiated her defection, they were on much more even ground.
"Well, I am a widow, and I am trying to end the war that will consume the rest of my children, otherwise," she answered.
Larissa silently buried her head against Draco.
"He was a good man," Bellatrix acknowledged after a moment, turning away, biting her lip. "Delphini will be sad, when she hears of it."
"He was glad to have one more daughter around to spoil," Lady Tamar's eyes shone with unshed tears.
Harry stiffened. "He…"
Tamar waved a hand. "He was unwell, Harry Potter. He has been unwell for decades. The trip to Chernobyl these brave young people undertook alongside him was not his first. He paid a price for that first one. It was a fair price, and he got to live for almost another twenty years. That's all. There was certainly nothing you could do."
Hermione thought it a gentle master-class in how to reassure someone, without explicitly lying to them and outright denying that their fears were, in fact, true.
Narcissa quietly looked around the table, set her cup down, smoothed at her skirt in her lap before bringing her hands back up. Hermione knew by now it was one of the few gestures of nervousness that she allowed herself. "I have a few concerns. The first one, Bella, is perhaps the most straightforward. Are you prepared for Nagini continuing to refuse to cooperate even if the Water of Life serves to heal her?"
"If I have to use the Imperious curse, I will."
"But—" Harry started, before Narcissa cut him off.
"Necessity hath no law."
Ron nodded in agreement to that, and Harry, seeing that, swallowed and fell silent.
"We're relying on a magical theory of great events in history, that they constantly repeat in cycles, and that details of the current cycle can be discerned from the current cycle," Narcissa said next. "What if it's all simply wrong and the dreams and myths and legends all mean nothing?"
"If we deal with Nagini, one way or another, then Voldemort has no Horcruxes left," Hermione offered, this time. "So, somebody gets him with an Avada Kedavra and he's just as dead as someone else."
"What if it's important to keep him alive?"
Hermione blinked. "Your Grace, you mean the imprisonment of Zahhak?"
"Yes. What if that's factual for a servant of Azi Dahaka, but the other myths are pure fluff? What if he cannot be killed, or trying to kill him has unforeseen consequences?"
Narcissa is testing the plan with questions. Hermione thought it smart, and very much approved. "There are ways to bind someone who cannot die, forever, if it must be done. Zahhak was imprisoned in Ararat, and eventually went away, it seems. But for this we must speak with Elahaïs, to be sure about the correct course of action."
Narcissa nodded. "Three groups, then. And two into dangerous territory. One to Koschei's palace, to investigate what he had intended to do, and what he knew about Ararat. One to the temple. One, the raid on Riddle's headquarters. They must all be conducted simultaneously. We will have very little time to act when we are done—and this information will guide us in our final actions."
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, composed and content with herself. "Most of you have had very little sleep in the past days, travelled hard and fast, and been wounded in battle, in some cases. Hermione, Bella, I encourage you to return to Ancient House by Floo. Pray at our family shrine. Spend some time with Delphini, and with each other. Leave tomorrow morning. I will stay up, making all the arrangements for all of you. Lord Potter, we will make arrangements for you to be comfortable. Bellatrix and Lady Tamara will go alone on the infiltration operation. Hermione, you will go to the Temple, with Luna. She will be best suited to have a clear understanding of what the ghost says. Tonks, I would ask you to accompany them. Colonel Weasley, please accompany Larissa and Lord Potter to Koschei's palace."
"I'm going as well," Draco said, quietly, and then more loudly. "I'm going as well, Mother. I won't let her go alone again."
Narcissa put her hand to her head. But then she nodded. "No, you are right. You are engaged to be married, and I have held you back from protecting your intended wife already. I cannot do it again, not when these stakes are so grave. Draco … Stay safe, please, my dragon." Her voice gently faded to barely more than a whisper, at that.
"With all my power, Mother."
Andromeda, listening from one of the table, and silent up to that point, now softly cleared her throat. "We may want to keep Riddle guessing about which one of these operations is the most important. Dora, dear…?"
Tonks' head jerked up. "Mum?"
"I once promised when you were little that your mother would not ask you to use your abilities. I've always kept that, until now, but… If I may make the suggestion, having Bellatrix be both at the Temple and at Riddle's headquarters may, in fact, be quite useful for making him guess about what information we think is the most important."
Tonks looked down. Looked up, at Bellatrix. "I was always afraid there was a bit of Black crazy in me—no offence, Mum—and I could go off in your direction. Never thought I'd be you. Actually, it's kinda the scariest thing I can think of. But here you are, and we've got to win. Got to take every take we can to win. I'll do it. I can think of a few charms that can make my wand look like your's."
Andromeda wiped at her eyes. "I'll keep the kids safe; a promise to both of you, Bella, Dora—no matter what, you can be assured of it. Thank you, for giving me my family back…"
"Enough of that." Bella gently got up—kissed Hermione's head—walked around, kissed her sister's heads. Didn't care that Narcissa was a little embarrassed, raised not to show such affection in public. Smiled, wiped at her eyes. Stepped back over to Hermione. "We're going to Ancient House. And we'll be ready on time."
How do you say goodbye to your daughter, perhaps forever, without telling her that? Bellatrix sat with Delphini on the low Egyptian couch off to the side of the Atrium, letting the height of late June warmth seep in. It was almost the Summer Solstice, and Bellatrix knew that light magic was waxing. Hmm, if we can force Riddle to fight on the Summer Solstice, the gate to the darkness may be at its weakest. His power certainly will be.
She ran her hands through her daughter's hair, and glanced to Hermione for a moment, Hermione, the woman who had in the end given her back a beautiful life. Delphini … Hermione… There they all sat, a family. They'd had … Nine months, give or take. Nine months as a family. Long enough to give birth to a child in, long enough for a wonderful season, the equivalent of a single school year at Hogwarts.
Bellatrix sucked in her breath, pressed her fist to her lips, tried to tear her mind away from calculating and considering the complications of the next day. She was almost like Hermione at this point. And thinking about Riddle especially made her think of Delphini. She hoped that, personally, she didn't end up being the one to kill him, simply because she never wanted Delphini to have to find that out, never wanted to have to explain to her what had happened.
"Mum?" Of course, now Delphini was looking at her, quizzically.
"I'm thinking about the future, dear. Mum is easily distracted," Bellatrix answered, and leaned over to her daughter. March 12th, 1997, Delphini's birthday. She was seven years old. Old enough to be reading (and reading adult books, at that!), to be exploring the world, four years from going to Hogwarts…
Gods of my ancestors, I don't ask to return alive, but I do ask that one of us return alive for her.
"Mum is easily distracted but you're going away tomorrow… again." Delphi sighed gently against the warmth of her two parents, in the summer's eve. "Will you be back for the Solstice? Both of you?"
"We're going to try very hard. But Aunt Andromeda and Aunt Narcissa will lead the ceremonies no matter what."
"It's not the same." A pout.
"It's not," Hermione agreed. "But it's … Unfortunately, in these dark times, your mothers have to work to make the world a better place, and that's just what it is."
"If father would just stop causing trouble, this would all stop."
How the hell could you feel nothing at all for her? Bellatrix wondered of Riddle, looking down at her daughter. Delphini had awakened something inside of her… But not inside of the Dark Lord. He seemed simply incapable of it. Now he was bringing on a deal to enslave the entire world, and openly threatened his own daughter. He truly thought nothing of anyone but himself. Thank the Gods she doesn't share that disease. A part of Bellatrix felt the most magical dream of all was that she had a daughter worth saving and cherishing out of all of that madness. Her entire adult life up until the last two years, felt like some strange fever.
"It would," Hermione was saying to Delphini gently. "But he doesn't want to stop, so we have to keep trying to make him stop."
"I don't understand it."
"I don't either," Bellatrix whispered. "I thought I did once, but I don't. It's best to just pray, that it all comes to a good ending, and we can spend time together with you, my dove. Now, dear, 'Mione and I are going to have to put you to bed. But, we'll stay with you, and read a quick story."
The two women exchanged a pained glance. They knew that they might never well return, and this might be the last bedtime story. The chance that it would only be one of them reading the next one, was even higher. But there would be no peace until the war was done. There simply could be no peace, until the war was done.
Until Delphini's biological father, who was manifestly incapable of loving her, was dead.
Perhaps a fear of Bellatrix's greater than failure, was that they would succeed, and Delphi would never quite forgive them for it.
After they had gotten Delphi to go to sleep, Hermione had curled up with her lover, in Bella's childhood bed. Nestled together, they had slept through a fitful night, one more night in Ancient House. Pushed up close to Bellatrix (taking advantage of the fact that Bella's left arm didn't go numb when under her, which made it much easier for Bella to cuddle with someone in bed—Hermione was a little guilty that she was thankful for Bella's artificial limb, but not that guilty), she was surprised with how well she had slept.
It was, after all, a desperate time, and she felt unsettled and desperate. Her body still hurt, and felt off-kilter, and sick. But it also reminded her so, so strongly of the time when she had first slept with Bellatrix, before going into the Crimean. She'd been just as desperate, and just as hopeless, then.
Almost involuntarily, she pressed against Bellatrix as they woke up. Bellatrix, the smaller woman… Hermione would probably never get over that. A sly grin curled her lips, even as she awoke.
"I know what you're thinking of," Bella murmured, bemused, her voice with a playful lilt. "The first time we had sex."
Hermione flushed a little. "I am," she admitted. "It felt more or less exactly like this. Here we are again, facing the end of everything if we lose."
"The stakes are higher now, actually," she answered, and Hermione felt herself being pushed down as Bellatrix rolled over and nuzzled against her. "The past week has been a nightmare for you. Lay back."
"...Bella?"
A husky, delighted laugh. "We ride for ruin and the world's ending today, isn't that how Luna would say it? – so I am going to hear you moan, one more time."
Of course she's horny and oh goddess… Hermione trailed off as Bellatrix dived down, whispering between her legs, close to her sex.
"Just for you today. Lighten your heart a little."
"Fuck—you deserve the same…"
"I choose to make you happy. I always make my own choices. That's my choice, today."
The touch of her lips, the strokes of her tongue. Those words nearly made Hermione want to cry, and yet she was being pleasured, too, and she loved it. It was true. To Bellatrix it was never necessarily about her own pleasure, but it was always about her own choice.
And who would have said no? She was being pampered, pleasured, by her hungry and fearless lover, all of her tension melting away into Bellatrix's tongue. She felt her legs pushed open, Bellatrix shifting, pressing down.
Hermione's hips rolled, her breath growing sharp—Bellatrix seemed everywhere, and the cool metal of an artificial hand on one thigh was no turn-off, but an electric arc of taut, cool skin with her hair standing on end.
Then, Bella's hand slipped from her thigh to between her legs, at her sex, as the older woman's lips and tongue migrated upwards, insistently stroking at Hermione's centre. She gasped, and closed her eyes. Perhaps this moment would last forever, too, a forever of pleasure rather than …
Bellatrix knew exactly how to make her come.
Bellatrix and Delphini, all the reasons that she needed to live for. Bellatrix… Hermione laughed, and laughed at the irony, and opened her eyes and grinned. "I love you."
There was nothing more to it.
She squeezed and cuddled close to Bellatrix, and resolved to do her best to face her fate like Bellatrix, laughing and confident and uncaring, to the bitter end.
A full breakfast. Thick, black tea on the stomach, with milk from one of the few countries where it was reliably safe to drink. Field uniform on, for both of them. Bellatrix settled her corset into place. No worrying about anything except survival, today. They left before Delphini woke up, neither one of them could bear the thought of inflicting another round of goodbyes on her. Let her have good memories of her mothers, not sad ones.
They mustered with the others in the atrium of the Ministry. The others mustered as well. Narcissa was there, Andromeda was there, to see them off. To see them all off.
The sun was still rising over London—just another day to the people of the battered city, still rebuilding after Voldemort's punishment for their liberation. Mid-morning, promising to be a bright day, where children would find ways to be merry despite the rubble in the streets. With the government consolidated with Narcissa in 10 Downing Street, the Ministry felt somewhat empty at the moment.
And Hermione and Bellatrix would be going on different assignments. Objectively, Hermione knew it was for the best. They were needed where they were needed, and it reduced the chance that both of them would fall at the same time. Someone would come home to Delphini.
Tamar stepped over. "Well." She paused, and looked at Bellatrix—Bella's sallow-set eyes staring right back.
"I hear you were considered one of the finest witches in Britain."
"Mmm, that's her," Bellatrix said, pointing at Hermione, eliciting a blush. "Or maybe her, or her," Narcissa, Andy. "But for this, I think I'm very much the right woman for the job. I understand you're no slouch yourself."
Tamar sniffed and laughed softly. "I suppose I have a reputation. Are you ready? We can all travel by international portkey to Yerevan. Then we will split up, Floo to Van for the Temple and Headquarters groups. We will both hold, and wait for Voldemort's disposition before commencing our operation—we may be in Van for several days, and should be prepared to wait accordingly."
There was a slowly spreading chorus of acknowledgements. Only one person was missing—Tonks.
And then she wasn't missing anymore, or rather, she was, but there was a second Bellatrix. "Oi! Finding a dragonskin armour corset on short notice wasn't easy," she glared at Bella, her diction all Tonks, but her voice, all Bellatrix's. "Good enough?"
"Talk like your social class, and it will be fine," Narcissa observed.
"Hey—I do."
"No, you don't, Dora," Andy observed drolly, earning a glare from her daughter.
Hermione stepped over to Harry. "Are you ready for this?"
"About as ready as I was for the Battle of Hogwarts, which is to say, not at all," he replied with a sigh. He had calmed, steadied out, but was keeping close to Luna and Ginny; it was just now that Luna would be going with Hermione. Well, Ginny will take good care of him, Hermione thought with definite contentment. It was all she could.
Bellatrix exchanged a few words softly with her sisters. Hermione had no idea what they were, and let them pass on the wind. She reached and squeezed Harry's hand. "Just take care of yourself. I want you to see this through."
A part of her was glad when Bellatrix didn't come over to kiss her goodbye. Harry doesn't need to see that, not right now. And, they'd have a chance—at Van.
Checking wands and charms, potion vials and secondary weapons, they were as ready as they could get. It was time to go. Portkey to Moskva, Portkey to Yerevan. One more trip through the elegant 1930s Arrivals and Departures Hall at the Moskva Ministry. A chance for some Russian tea, though there would probably be more in Yerevan; when all the rest of civilisation was gone, the Transcaucasus would still have tea and tobacco, likely enough.
But the Manor 'Content' would never have a kindly and smiling gentleman in it again, ready to welcome them with magic on a dark and snowy night.
Fuck, but I am done with this war. For all the sacrifices we made, voluntary or not, it must end.
Oh what a sight it was! If they were all dead tomorrow, they would have lived to accomplish such a feat of arms as this! Dirt and rock fused to glass ahead of them, a sign that they had overrun the enemy positions—not just cut through the columns, where the tactical nukes had been detonated, but reached the second line, where the larger devices had torn through the rear-areas of the Morsmordre Army!
Alexandra stood on the flank of the volcanic crater of the Nemrut Dagi. She could see, to her east, the plunge from the sharp cliffs of the inside crater wall down to the lake it held within. To the west, she could see their position on the right, which was being hammered by enemy artillery as the enemy threw reinforcements at them, trying to halt the counterattack.
To the south, she could see Tatvan, and the troops of the 25th Corps linking up with the 16th Mongolian division. They had, against all odds, succeeded. Their position was a massive salient, true, but anchored on one side by the lake, they now held the high ground of these slopes, and could defend Tatvan with ease. Their ships on the lake could even be made out, standing close to True Ararat, as they now mostly called the mountain.
Are you broken? Is this your last attempt? There was still enemy artillery firing in their general direction, though lower down the flanks of the mountain, so she crouched lower. Zoë came up to her then, and with a few flicks of her wand and Aramaic spells, created a mixture of rubble and rock and trenches as an observation and command position for them. It was certainly much faster than digging!
Soon enough, Alexandra's staff had the radios set up, and some camouflage netting over the position. By that point, someone had gotten some tea going, and the two women drank of it, hot strong tea in the hot desert, the better to make you sweat by, with camouflage netting for shade. It was getting on toward evening, and they'd been in combat continuously for thirty hours without sleep. Emergency rations were broken open and distributed.
The two women set together, and used binoculars and a range-finder scope to look to the west. Zoë sometimes augmented it with her wand. They could look up the valley, toward the city of Muş, still in the hands of Voldemort's troops despite the counterattack. There was a low black cloud seeming to cover the ground, like the approach of a swarm of locusts.
"More Inferi," Zoë remarked at last, a touch grimly, having played about with casting spells on an indicator board. "It matches what I can see."
"How many does he have," Alexandra mused, and it wasn't really a question, just a bitter remark. He surely must have raised most of the dead in east Anatolia, it seemed like. All the ones who still had bodies left to desecrate. Perhaps the religions which practice cremation have always been wiser.
"I heard reports during the advance that he had taken an entire city to use—Diyarbakir," Zoë answered with quiet grimness. "So, he will set them all upon us, right now. Pin us, and then pivot his actual troops up the D959 highway, to cut us off and reach the Mountain. It must be his only objective; it is the only thing that can be."
For a moment, Alexandra looked again at the horde, and felt an intense impulse toward despair. If there were a million undead in it, it would surely be surprising, in the wrong direction. It was probably a million and a half.
Then she heard the mutters and murmurs of the men behind her, and turned. They were alive with a weary awe, and…
"The Simurgh." Even in the midst of all this, with Voldemort on the offensive toward the Mountain, the Simurgh still rose from the Lake of Anahit, and flew forth in random directions, blessing the land with healing and the people in it with nurturing to their hearts and souls from the sight of the great bird. Now, it was returning, with the dusk, to the lake. They watched it disappear into the high crater of True Ararat, and Zoë was smiling for the sight of the shining bird, and knelt and kissed the Earth.
"Sometimes, the world is kind, and reminds you to fight on, for the sake of hope."
Dolohov's Master stood his ground in Muş. Like Diyarbakir, the city was now quite dead. But this close to the front, the number of reinforcements to the horrifying ranks of the Inferi that they had received were thin; most of the population had already fled, even muggles possessing that basic wisdom.
"These Russians, wizards and muggles alike, do not know how to quit," Voldemort glanced to him. "Your kin, I might add."
"Eh, to beg your pardon, My Lord, I went to Durmstrang. But they do not surrender, though I had not expected a counterattack. But, it's a wasted hope, and a sure defeat. We can cut them off."
"My good man?" Voldemort stared at him, and Dolohov realised he was already distracted from the battle again.
"Sire, as the Inferi converge to attack them, we can use our remaining Janissary divisions to pinch their right flank. We will cut them off from the rest of their lines, and reach Lake Van. Let them have their momentary victory, they can't bring up their strategic reserves fast enough, and they don't have enough to plug the gap, anyway."
"That may be… That may be. Yes, you may issue those orders."
"By your leave?"
"Hurry back, I have more important matters to deal with." Voldemort was looking, longingly, toward Ararat. He sneered in contempt, when the Simurgh appeared. "Not long, and you will have no place to sleep," he whispered, barely more than a hiss.
Dolohov hastily finished giving the orders, and acknowledged the salute, before turning back. One could never keep the Dark Lord waiting, after all. "Sire, the instructions have been given. They will surely be at the foot of Ararat within a day. This will be remembered as the enemy's last offensive, which you crushed, in personal command of your troops." A little flattery never hurt, around Voldemort.
"Oh, they will forget this day's military noise and to-do soon enough," the Dark Lord answered. "We have a more important thing to do. It's time to seal the deal."
"M'lord, the enemy still holds the position."
"The troops are coming up, they only have to arrive soon enough to support us. And, they are unlikely to find us at first, when we are travelling the path of Darkness. My good man, I am going to give you a reward, the finest of all rewards. You are going to be the one who pulls me back from the brink—it is impossible to seal this deal, with Azi Dahaka, except if you have someone with you, who is loyal enough to do their part. You stand alone with me as a competent and able subordinate, now. You will be remembered as my foremost Lieutenant and the Ministry of the Whole World, when I am done."
Dolohov was not sure anymore if he wanted such distinctions. But it was quite clear that he was much too far in to look for a path out. Unlike Bellatrix.
"M'Lord, if you mean for me to accompany you on a risky mission behind enemy lines, I am pleased to follow, but who shall be left in command of the Army?"
"Let your muggle Chief of Staff handle it. I am sure he can, and the muggles have certainly proved very adept at killing," Voldemort shrugged.
A pause. "But, M'lord, Nagini?"
Voldemort frowned. "The risk to Nagini," he allowed at last, "is greater to be near Ararat. She is not to approach closer than Muş, in any circumstance. Pull back a cordon of our Aurors to protect the camp. But that is all. You are not… Nervous, are you?" He smiled, trenchantly.
"Absolutely not, My Lord. You know I am loyal, and I will do this thing for you, even though I understand it not."
"Good. Good. It is almost time for us to be done with treason and rebellion forever. In later years, I will certainly remember how much of it I suffered. But the little trap we have laid for them, should hold them off long enough for it to never matter again."