Facing the Future

Nursultan Nazarbayev had considered it quite the coup to hold the conference directly in Astana. The others had been held in secondary cities, and the Confederal Capital of the CIS being used meant that there was a recognition of his general leadership of the war effort.

The Presidents of China and India and King Charles all had the most important places, of course. A representative of the African magical Federation, which was coordinating their war efforts against Voldemort, was accorded a similar position, representing the powerful wizards who had undergirded the war effort throughout Subsaharan Africa. For lesser nations, the head of the Iranian provisional military government was also present, the Vietnamese General Secretary, and the Prime Minister of Thailand. A certain number of hangers-on from lesser states were present of course, with Saddam Hussein travelling about the meeting seeking support to prioritise the liberation of Iraq from the Morsmordre. He still had six divisions in the field in southern Iran under command of the Indian Expeditionary Force (combining them with the Iranians would have been impossible), and so still mattered for something.

And, of course, there was the Duchess of Lancaster. She was comfortable there, in the opulence. There were always luxuries in the world, someone willing to pay more for comfort. Wartime rationing took most of them away, even from the richest people on Earth, but the rules at allied conferences were a bit different—these were first-class affairs. The caviar and smoked fish, the champaign and wine flowed, even if the later was mostly Australian (though, Narcissa had brought in a case from Galicia). Certificates of having been scanned and cleared for radioactive contamination marked the cases when they arrived.

The air was ebullient, and it deserved to be. The signs of the collapse of the enemy forces after the destruction of their leadership were well in evidence. The counterattack in the Transkavkaz was approaching Silvan. Eventually, they would be at the horrifying remains of the city of Diyarbakir—one subject that was in the air was whether or not to acknowledge the suffering and genocide against the Kurds it represented, and grant them independence, with the collapse of the Turkish state considered. Their were representations in both directions; that kind of affair was unlikely to be settled here, and would take years to play out.

The exact nature of the relationship between Charles' Federation of Oceania and the British League, and Portugal, was not a subject which came up at the conference. Narcissa had made clear to His Majesty that she would be in absolute lockstep with him at the Conference—that what was essentially a revived Commonwealth would have a separate Commonwealth Conference to decide on the exact relationships between the constituent parts. Canada and the Caribbean territories had been lost to MACUSA, but what was left was much more tightly integrated. Some people in the British Cabinet already spoke of Imperial Federation.

Narcissa Malfoy moved from place to place. Other than the head of the African Federation and representatives of the governments of Finland, Syria, and Portugal, she was the only magic-user who was a Head of Government or Head of State. But following the MinKol practice and the convivance between the magical and muggle worlds in the former Soviet space (or really, former Communist space, China was in the same position), advisors were close at hand for the others. Their interests were not under threat here.

At least, if it was managed right. All of these nations had depended on their witches and wizards to win. Narcissa understood that in the parts of the world liberated from Voldemort's forces, the situation would be entirely different. Magical populations there would certainly be subject to violent attacks by mobs and, if muggle governments came to power, official state repression.

Hermione was at Narcissa's side through all of it, serving as a military liaison between her and President Nazarbayev. She felt mildly embarrassed by the riches on display, and sometimes offended by the sheer cynicism at the end of the day. There were precious few high ideals here. They were Making Deals.

But Narcissa Malfoy was a living example of just how much good that attitude could provide to the world, if it was directed by a fundamentally decent person.

Late one evening, Narcissa had the opportunity to take a walk through one of the palace gardens when her. She had been watching. Of course she was. She stepped closer. "Hermione, have you been following the debates over the situation in South Africa?"

"I have, Your Grace," she answered formally. Who knew the sorts of people who were listening. "The African population there accepted support from His Majesty's Government, but prefers Federation with the rest of Africa. The Euro wizard community is negotiating to surrender, but is adamantly against Federation."

"And the conflict is actively three-sided, because the Euro wizard community and the white community are not the same thing," Narcissa finished smoothly. Indeed, that was exactly the problem. The children of all of the "Coloured" magical families, who formed an outright majority in Cape Province, associated themselves to some degree with the African civil rights movement, having been oppressed by Apartheid, but generally spoke European languages and practised exclusively European-tradition magic. The Indian magical families generally associated and allied with them, coming from a much more similar tradition (and influenced by the former British rule in India, they'd all immigrated during the time of the Raj, after all) than that of indigenous Sub-Saharan Africa. So there was a "Euro" magical community that included White, Coloured and Indian wizards arrayed against an indigenous African magical community; except, of course, some Africans also had taken to practising "Euro" magic under the influence of the Ministry of Magic's Colonial Department during the Empire year, which had tried to suppress native customs and education local wizards in European magical traditions.

But some of the Boers had simply never taken to being ruled or influenced by the British government (Hell, some of the living Boer wizards had been alive during the Second Boer War!), and of course a bitter-ender white population had gleefully fought against both sides. The result had been a three-way civil war folded into the broader world war, which had lasted for six years and caused millions of additional deaths, with spells, small arms, and machetes. The nasty kind.

And it particularly struck home to the complexities of identity because, while Hermione could usually pass as white, she was by law under the old Apartheid regime, Coloured herself. It was funny and tragic and terrible to think that had she simply been born in South Africa, she might have ended up spending the entire war fighting for a Government aligned with Voldemort. She was no longer so sure that her moral convictions would be proof against such a thing. Bellatrix had, a long time ago, started out with high-minded ideals, too.

The world was too complicated to be sure of how you would react to things.

But Hermione could see where this was going, as they talked over the details of the political and military situation in South Africa. "You want me to have something to do with it?"

"I have just finished negotiating an end of Russian service for the refugees. You will get your honourable discharge and final awards from MinKol. Since your rank was equivalent to Colonel, I'm going to promote you two steps for your meritorious service at Lake Van. You will be given the rank of Major General, and then promptly retired from active service," Narcissa smiled thinly. "Then, I am going to place in you charge of the Demilitarisation and Border Commission for South Africa. Your job will be to establish Lines of Demarcation between the communities and enforce a cease-fire and disarmament. The African Federation acknowledges that it between the ethnic cleansing that has gone on and the very large culturally different Coloured population, that it would be impossible to properly integrate the western part of South Africa into the African Federation. So, we will be taking the lead to establish a practical and sustainable Line of Control."

"It's not because of my background, is it?" Hermione asked, flatly. She understood that Narcissa was a Slytherin, but… Well, so much for hiding just how close they were, anyway; she wanted to know.

Narcissa sniffed faintly. "You will be trusted by the local population. However, it's really about giving my sister-in-law a start to her political career and a constituency which may well simply ignore who your wife is."

"You know I will hold them accountable for war crimes committed during the war, even if it ruins their support for my Commission."

"I would expect nothing less. That will play well in Britain."

Holding people accountable for War Crimes will 'play well' with the voters, Hermione ran the words through her head in distaste. On one hand that was one of the worst sentiments she had ever heard bluntly expressed by a politician, and the woman was about to become her sister-in-law. On the other hand, it meant that Narcissa was absolutely going to hold people accountable.

Well, some. Hermione wasn't going to be a hypocrite, either. She took a breath. "Your Grace, I'll do it. I will also carefully research the situation, and prepare pardon applications for those who merit it, so that we have a consistent policy."

Narcissa smiled. "Thank you very much, Hermione. I believe this is the start of a long and productive political collaboration."

Field Marshal Lady Bellatrix Black had haunted the conference like she were halfway between a looming spectre and a fifth wheel. Her terribly brave stand against Voldemort, on the shore of Lake Van, was already a legend. But she had no command, and no assignment. She was certainly being watched, with great interest.

So her job, really, was to be polite, or at least not-impolite, and to avoid saying anything that would offend Cissy or upset whatever she was doing. And it was to talk shop, with the other interested military officers. To sit there and prove she could be a respectable middle-aged witch and senior military officer, who actually remembered her table manners as a Lady.

Mind-numbingly awful, really. Oh well, Hermione was there at night, so if her purgatory was to spend every waking day of the rest of her life in some kind of sinecure committee meeting, she supposed she could deal with it. Gods forbid I wake up tomorrow and I'm on the Honours List for Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports. After all, unlike Azkaban, committee meetings had tea, and cocktails afterward. But mostly it was looking forward to Hermione in the evening.

She heard footsteps, and whirled to face them. That was a habit that was never going away.

It was the King.

She froze for a moment and then, being that they were both in uniform, came to attention, and saluted.

"Lady Black," he acknowledged, and stepped up alongside of her, looking out over the gardens where she had also been looking.

"Your Majesty."

"I have been busy, and am fortunate to have such an able Prime Minister for Britain. Your sister is a formidable woman."

Bellatrix smiled awkwardly and agreed readily. "She's the best of us, Your Majesty."

"No doubt."

"I understand that under Voldemort's regime, you were responsible for the response to the accident at Dungeness-A."

"I was, Your Majesty." Odd.

"I have always been concerned about environmental affairs, and I thank you for your successful leadership of that effort. Your responsibility and diligence helped keep Britain free of nuclear contamination in this terrible war. Having seen the consequences in Australia and New Zealand, I look forward to returning to Britain and seeing a land which has not suffered so much. I still have much to learn about the true nature of the world, but so far what I have seen of the revelations of magic, matches well with my own assumptions about the interconnectedness of things in the natural world."

So I'm talking with the King about … Environmentalism…?

"I was very concerned about environmental matters when I was young, Your Majesty," Bellatrix answered, thinking on her feet. "In fact, I saw technological society's pollution of the natural world as a terrible crime. I hope my sister's government can forge a new future in which magic and technology are used in a complementary way, and magic can mitigate the negative effects of a prosperous technological civilisation."

"Indeed."

They were both silent for a little while. Then, finally, Charles spoke again. "I have made a resolution. You are the last surviving Death Eater of Voldemort's inner circle, which governed Britain after the temporary overthrow of my family. I have resolved to never ask you about that time. With that resolution comes a request. You will not talk about it, to anyone. Carry it to your grave, Lady Black."

The Prince, Bellatrix suddenly thought with a jerk. She looked up to the King, and then nodded. It was simple enough. "You have my word, before the Old Gods of my family."

"Thank you, that's sufficient."

He looked out again, toward the south. "Lady Black, I have spoken at length on some matters with your sister. Because our forces are still involved in heavy combat in Brittany, we will give you supreme command there. Your job will be to retake Nantes, and reestablish the historical borders of the Duchy for the devolved government. When you have completed that operation, and I have no doubt of your success, you will be moved to the retired list. It is our intention that you will not receive another command, or a post in the Government. You are encouraged to attend to local matters in the County Palatine of Lancashire, and take an active hand there, but it is not in the best interests of the Goverment for you to be involved in affairs outside of Lancashire. It would also be my request that you do not take up your seat in the Wizengamot or the Lords, and allow your nephew or another of your relatives to sit in your stead in the Wizengamot, where custom allows such a nomination."

Put out to pasture, then. Well, there's plenty for me to do Merseyside and in the country. She tried to think positive about that. And, there was one last challenge. "You've spoken with Narcissa about this, Your Majesty?"

"I have. We are in concurrence."

"She needs a free hand. I understand. Very well, Your Majesty, thank you for having me in your service."

"You're welcome." He spared one last look at her. "Have a good evening, Lady Black." Then he turned, and walked away.

At the end of the conference, after two weeks of discussion, coordination, and debate—and signing ceremonies and press-conferences—President Nazarbayev gave a speech. He ascended to the podium of the auditorium, flanked with the flags of the many countries of the Coalition and the constituent nations of the CIS.

"Friends, Allies, leaders, veterans, comrades. For the past six years we have stood the line against a terrible force seeking the domination of the entire globe. The revelations that we endured tried the souls of men, and the evil they revealed upset our entire belief in an ordered world of rules, science, and agreements and pacific relations between sovereign states. We were thrown back into a war for survival, against forces we could barely understand."

"It is a testament to the fundamental human nature that we share with the magical world, that within our nations, that served as the Front Line States in this conflict, a Russian Witch, a Kazakh Wizard, saw themselves as Russian or Kazakh first. The same for our comrades in China, India, and other nations which never wavered their resolution against the power of the 'Morsmordre'. Thus, we endured terrible trials alongside each other, and by our commitment to three No's that we resolved upon even in the first dark days and never once faltered from—No Negotiations, No Discrimination, No Surrender—we outlasted the power of the enemy's typhoon storm."

"With the annihilation of the supreme leader of the enemy, and the destruction of their animating force, we now face a collection of petty warlords, tyrants, and murderers, commanding armies of slave soldiers, supported only by traitors to humanity and their native countries who fight at their sides solely to avoid their just punishment for their crimes against their own peoples. The time to strike is now."

He cleared his throat. "At 0400 this morning, Moscow time, thirty thousand artillery pieces arrayed from Pskov in the Norht in Russia to Uman in the south in Ukraine, opened fire in support of our Belorussian Strategic Offensive Operation. Three thousand tanks and one million soldiers have joined the attack, going over on the offensive at the points of our choosing, with our marshalled strength, fully supported by one thousand attack aeroplanes of Frontal Aviation. Already, we have received reports during the past ten hours of a complete disintegration of the enemy response, with no effective high-level command to coordinate the provision of reinforcements. Certain columns have made penetrations in excess of fifty kilometres past their jumping-off points."

"Comrades, I have ordered that this offensive shall continue for as long as we have fuel, ammunition, reinforcements. This is the commitment of the Confederation of Independent States and our close ally of Mongolia, and our Scandinavian friends, to winning this war, decisively, and totally. I know that from Turkey and Iraq, in East Asia, and Africa, you are all also engaged in decisive strategic operations. I ask you, with our plans clearly set and agreed upon, to return to your homelands, muster your forces for one more renewed year of great battles and great trials, and commit to 2004, sixty years since 1944, being the year of Great Victories as 1944 was. Can we match 'Stalin's Ten Blows' of 1944 and complete the destruction of the enemy? I am certain that we can. Thank you, and let us now go, united in victory and confident in our purpose."

An hour later they were at the airport, with their Concorde spooling up, and the collection of limousines which had conveyed them back alongside, with a hefty collection of baggage carts—right up to the limit of the fast but small jetliner's capacity—loading belongings of the Black Family that had been left in the city in the past, but were heading back to Britain for good now.

Narcissa was hugging her son goodbye—there weren't any cameras at the departure, fortunately. Then, she gave the same hug to Larissa. "I'm looking forward to seeing you both again," she offered. "With your family," she added to Larissa. "In the meantime, do good, and stay safe, and protect each other."

"Of course, Mother," Draco answered with a hint of a flush.

Hermione leaned closer to Bellatrix, watching. "They've agreed to a date for a wedding, haven't they?"

"Yes, September 1st. It will be in the UK. But, they're going to be staying in Russia with Larissa's family until then," Bellatrix nodded, leaning closer. "If these offensives pan out, September will be a good time for weddings, and other lighthearted things. It will still be a rather modest affair, because of rationing, but it will look hopeful with such victories behind us. And, I'll have to retake Nantes by then, since I can't attend if I'm still in command in Brittany, and Cissy will never forgive me if I miss Draco's wedding."

Oh Gods, of course she'd be willing to time an offensive over that. But of course, if anyone could manage a military campaign so that she could get back home in time for a wedding, it would be Bella.

Soon enough, it was time for them to board, and they made their way into one of the tiny, but comfortable private compartments the aeroplane had been refitted with.

"There is something I would like to bring up, Hermione," Bella began, once they were ensconced in place with a glass of wine each. Bella was wearing gloves, but showed off the rest of her golden arm at the wrist, anyway, having lost her distaste for admitting her left arm was artificial. "It's about Ararat, and Elahaïs."

Hermione froze for a moment, and grimaced. "Larissa told you, didn't she?"

"She's going to be a splendid niece. Also, interested in making sure what's right happens for you, whether or not you want it." A triumphant grin. Then, her expression turned sharply serious. "Hermione, you promised something to Elahaïs, didn't you?" They were briefly pushed back into their seats, as the Concorde beneath them tore skyward, through a combination of technology and magic that might just be the harbinger of things to come.

Hermione sighed, silent. She had wanted to avoid telling Bellatrix about that. "Yes. She agreed to serve as the key to lock the Door. In return, I promised her that if we couldn't get her back a ghostly room of requirement, that she could use to be more real and alive, within the next forty years … I'd take her place."

"What." A flash of anger tore through Bella's face.

"Bella, hear me out. There IS another ghostly Room of Requirement. The Room of Requirement, at Hogwarts. So it's not like I have to create such a fell piece of ancient magic. And, she can serve as the Key from anywhere in the world. So I just need to change her tether to Hogwarts. That's it. I've got forty years to figure out how to do that."

Bellatrix calmed, but only a little. "I'm glad I asked Cissy to divert the flight."

"Bella?"

"We're going to Van, and I'm going to talk to Elahaïs myself. Because the only way for someone to safely be a key is for them to be a ghost, because of a living human can open the door. And you, Hermione Granger, are not going to fucking die on me, by your own hand, at the age of sixty-five."

They arrived at Van less than two hours later. Narcissa had the convenient cover of meeting with local political leaders of the various ethnic groups, and the military staff on the front, distributing medals and Honours, and discussing the counterattack that was now well underway against Voldemort's forces, having pushed them back far enough that it had been safe to bring the Concorde directly into the military airfield at Van.

Bellatrix descended the air-stairs, and firmly grabbed Hermione's hand. It was a comfortable, gentle gesture even with the cold gloves, but it was definitely firm. And, she raised her wand without another hesitation.

Oh. She hasn't apparated with her new wand yet.

Hermione was about to say something protesting that perhaps it wasn't wise, but then they were already spinning away, with a snap of disapparation, to the scorched remains of the destroyed pomegranate orchard before the ruins of the temple, overlooking the new bay which had been created by the terrible battle between them and Voldemort, as a permanent reminder of how severe and great the trial had been.

It was strange, three weeks later, to come back to this and think that they had been involved in a desperate fight for their lives at this place. It did not seem like it really happened, it seemed like it was a fantasy. But there they were, and the wrenching flash of nausea from the sidealong apparation was a reminder that life was very much real. "Mmf. More warning next time, Bella? We're not in active combat."

"You say that, but it's your life on the line," Bella muttered. Then she picked her voice up to carry. "Elahaïs! We need to talk about my fiancee."

The ghost shimmered into view under a rock ledge formed by the damage to the mountain from the punishing volleys of spells which had come before.

"Bellatrix Black. A pleasure to see you again. This is about the deal with Hermione, is it not?"

"Switch me out for her."

"Bella!?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Shush, love. In forty years, I'm going to be ninety-three. Yes, a witch at that age will still have some dark hairs on her head, but it's a respectable enough age to die young at. The First Wizarding War was a terrible time when many purebloods died younger than that, too, and so has this war been. Also, let's be honest, Hermione," she turned around, grabbed Hermione's hands, and held them in her own.

"I don't have any interest in finding out what my afterlife is," Bellatrix said with a gentle and sincere smile that shocked Hermione into silence. "I have a fairly good idea of what it would be. Now, if my Old Gods accept me, and approve of what I do in the next century or so of life, perhaps, then, perhaps, I will have some kind of acceptable afterlife with you. But realistically, my love, I am not sure that even another hundred years would be enough time for me to save myself in, assuming I could even find a way to do it. So, it seems a fairly safe bet that being a ghost will be the best outcome for me, as I think being afraid of my afterlife is, quite frankly, perfectly rational."

Elahaïs cackled. "She is very smart, and not at all wrong."

Both living women looked at the ghost. "Not helping."

Hermione swallowed, as tears began to come to her eyes. "Bella, you've never had a good life until now. I had at least fifteen years before now. It's you who deserves more time here than I do. I'm …"

"Nonsense. First of all, it's a contingent possibility: We're the two Brightest Witches of our respective generations. I'm sure Delphini will be in the running, herself, and just between the two of us since there's no reason for it to be widely known, she has access to ancient and powerful magic as the Heir of Slytherin. Forty years is a long time to untether a ghost. We may find the solution by Yule for all you know, and if not we may still have a solution by the time Delphini starts working with us. A little shared challenge for our family. Now, in addition to that, taking that contingent possibility at the worst, how many people celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary? And, finally, why would you do that to me? Make me live with the entire world knowing I let you die? Come on; I am going to have enough bad press for the rest of my life as it is!"

Hermione swallowed hard, glanced to Elahaïs… Turned to Bellatrix, kissed her, hard. "Alright," she whispered.

When they got back to the airport, both women were surprised to be immediately confronted by three pointed wands of MinKol officers, and a group of six Russian Air Force security troops levelling automatics at them.

"Ah…?" Bellatrix was still in uniform, after all. The surprised and taken aback expression on her face was almost cute, as Hermione found herself freezing, as well.

Luna wandered up. "They're part of our party!"

"I recognise the Field Marshal," one of the other officers added, and with a quick order, the firearms were lowered.

"Sorry about the commotion," Luna said, pleasantly. "But I came to ask if Harry and I could get a ride back to Britain, now that the conference is over, and, you see, I thought I should mention the bomb on the aeroplane. But everyone got all very odd when I mentioned the bomb on the aeroplane, like I had planted it. But, there's just a bomb on the aeroplane."

"Fuck," Hermione muttered. She turned, to see some MinKol personnel with a bomb squad, working on one of the landing gear bays of the Concorde.

"Her Grace explained my situation to them," Luna was continuing. "So it's been sorted out. But they're all waiting inside, at a safe distance. This way?"

"Well, there's no reason to stand here waiting to see whether or not a bomb will explode," Bellatrix muttered, though it was a little bit distant. "Come on, Hermione."

"Quite…"

Inside, Bellatrix, for all her diffidence when she was standing outside, leaned against the glass of the half-abandoned terminal, and stared out at the sleek aeroplane.

She seemed a little bit standoffish, and Hermione decided she'd give Bellatrix her distance, and talk to Narcissa instead. "Do you have any information about it?"

"Not at the moment. But some experienced unexploded ordnance men say they think, based on past experience with aeroplane bombs, that it was designed to detonate when climbing to altitude—probably the second climb to altitude. So it was likely planted in Astana," Narcissa explained. "They were not expecting us to visit Van."

"I suppose not. It was very impulsive of Bellatrix."

"It was," Narcissa agreed calmly, though with a hint of a smile for her sister. "Of course, it's really the Lovegood girl's presence here that mattered, nothing else. But it was Bella who sent us here. Odd occurrence. They've already called an alert in Astana."

Hermione could imagine it well enough. The lockdowns, the scream of the blue lights and the militsiya vehicles rushing too-and-fro, the interrogations of the airport workers. Maybe it would find something and maybe it wouldn't.

She sank down into the chair, and looked around the miserable civilian terminal, abandoned for years until it was converted into a military canteen with the lengthening of the runway by the Russian Air Force. This, then, was a very real part of the future, too.

A bombing. Who was the target? Narcissa? Bellatrix? Both—it had to be both.

Who? Morsmordre infiltrators seeking revenge for Voldemort? Or … People who would not like Narcissa's government to succeed?

Either one was possible, certainly. Hermione closed her eyes for a while, and tried to imagine the possibilities. There would certainly be people who were angry at the prospect that Narcissa might succeed, that the wizarding and muggle worlds might actually settle down to a convivance.

People like that might, in fact, never quite go away. She looked across at Bellatrix, who was staring outside until it got dark, and then still staring outside, at the lights on the runway, surrounding the Concorde, the flashers, the signals, the warning flares, the little pinpricks of light from the men standing around smoking. Bad discipline, rear-area troops, a sniper would easily pick them off, Hermione though; you covered your cigarette with a cupped hand to keep that light from being visible, if you were a front soldier.

She wanted one, and guiltily slipped away to find one. Four days, that time, the young witch thought with a contented but guilty puff. Bella would be furious when she smelled it.

But Bella said nothing when she came back. She just stared listlessly outside.

Finally, by about 2300 hrs, they defused the bomb, and by 0100 hours, they were cleared for takeoff, and reboarded the Concorde.

The rest of the flight home was rather roundabout. It involved flying north to St. Petersburg, and then curving over Scandinavia. Hermione spent a fair amount of it snuggling with Bella in their private compartment, and occasionally bursting into tears. The encounter with Elahaïs had reminded her of all that they had given up, and just precisely how it was all finally over for her. The long war that had very nearly consumed her entire life since the age of twelve or so was … finally over. She was almost twenty-five. But the bomb had reminded her that it wasn't over. Wasn't Bella just going to go to another front? Wasn't she going to be trying to lead delicate peace negotiations and boundary demarcation efforts in South Africa? Hadn't someone just tried to bomb their aeroplane? It was a reminder that it would never really be over.

She supposed that in another world, some kind of therapy for those who had been child soldiers might be available. But there was nothing here, where millions of children had served as child soldiers, and where the world was in too much of a state of civilisational collapse for anything like that to be available. She'd have to be British, keep a stiff upper lip, and find her way forward.

And she had Bellatrix, for all of that.

For the first part of the flight, she stayed up forward with Narcissa (who was of course as cool as ice about the entire experience, and utterly matter-of-fact about it), feeling too tired to sleep, cracking a few jokes with the pilots (who were one of a kind with Narcissa on the subject of the bomb) about how amateur the attempt had been. Finally, she dragged herself back to her little cabin.

Bella was sprawled out in bed, a pillow gripped firmly between one living and one artificial arm, wet with tears.

Hermione froze. She remembered, before they'd started to sleep together, how fragile Bellatrix could get in her sleep, when she was alone with just her subconscious. So she stripped off the outer layer of her clothes and swung down onto the small bed with her, and hugged her lover firmly.

Bellatrix stirred in her arms. "Our marriage is a fool's errand, Hermione. Get away from me while you still have a future."

"What?"

"The Black Family will be hated throughout most of the world by many people who will be happy to see us dead," Bellatrix answered. "Mostly my fault, though people will resent and envy Narcissa's power, too. But, I fear, I feel, that you will never realise your ambitions and there's nothing kind in a Slytherin stifling the ambitions of her lover. Not chained to me. And you'll never be perfectly safe, either. Someday, someone may put one through that succeeds."

Hermione sighed, and held her tighter. "So that's why you were so distant tonight. Well, I don't care. I've never cared. Never. Never. Never. I don't give a fuck about the danger. And, Bella, Narcissa is already helping me with my career. I'll be going to South Africa to handle the border and disarmament commission there. If I do well, I will be able to launch my political career from it. She has suggested that I could subsequently become Governor General there, and then also in Doggerland, in charge of the settlement efforts for refugees," one did not waste an island larger than Cyprus, even if planting it and making it fertile and laying out infrastructure on it would be a work almost as epic as the magic that had brought it back to the surface. "So you're not slowing me down in the slightest. In South Africa, they won't care about your past. You'll just be my wife. And you're going to be my wife." She leaned in, and kissed Bellatrix long and slow, tender and hard, pushed lips and cheeks together for as long as they could stand.

Broke the kiss, and smiled with their lips still brushing together. "Delphini wants her mothers. Don't be an idiot. I knew we could someday die from murder or assassination even when I started this." Perhaps it was a lie, she hadn't really been thinking one way or another—but it was a lie she wanted to tell, for the good of both of them.

Bellatrix cracked a wry smile. "That was low bribery. I would never deny Delphini."

"You need it sometimes. And anyway, it's obvious we should never be apart. You don't sleep well, and get maudlin, without me. So I'd say, Bellatrix Black, you're just stuck with me, by my own damned choice."