It seems as I have already fallen to the "author that promises weekly updates immediately proceeds to update a month after the last chapter", which I truly want to apologize for. Finals kicked in with everything they had, plus the fact that I had to move and a lot more wonderful things made writing harder. I want to say that updates will be more frequent now that the semester is over but with my job and holidays coming up, I can't say I will be able to post as often as I wish I could (the next chapter will not take as long to write though, that I can promise).
Anyways, that being said. I want to thank every single person who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed my story! This might sound cliched but I was honestly not expecting so many people would read and let alone like my story! I promise I will reply to each and every person who reached out to me (all of your reviews were amazing, by the way. You guys are so amazingly supportive and great it kills me). I'm glad you're liking what I've written and want to once again thank you from the bottom of my heart. My words may not show it but I do happy little flips every time I can tell someone's liked what I put out.
One more thing, this chapter contains some descriptions of blood, violence, and a bit of gore that some people might find disturbing. So BEWARE before reading this chapter.
That's all for today, hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mudblood."
It was as if the blood in her veins had frozen solid. Her frantic mind struggled to react. Run, take cover, fight back, prepare to die, anything. But she couldn't. There was something stopping her from moving. At first, Hermione assumed Bellatrix had cast a spell on her before she'd revealed herself. But no witch, regardless of skill, could perform a spell powerful enough to leave another paralyzed without leaving some sort of clear sign or incantation.
Then again, Bellatrix wasn't exactly an ordinary witch. Was she?
Somehow, despite the rest of her body failing her, Hermione managed to open her mouth. "How- how are you-" her words were shaky and unsure, and it was clear from the gleam in Bellatrix's eyes and amused expression that she took notice of this.
"How am I... what? Alive?" The dark witch inched closer with every word, confident in her movements despite the apparent limp and dramatically hunched shoulders. Her left hand wrapped around her midsection, while the other pointed a bloody, lengthy index finger in Hermione's direction. "You didn't really think the Dark Lord's most trusted and powerful lieutenant would fall to some dimwitted housewife, did you? And they warned us you were smart. Just goes to show you can't expect much in terms of intelligence from a Gryffindor."
The attack against her intellect hit the girl especially hard, and her fist twitched in anger from its place next to her leg. Bellatrix, aware of said movement, stood straighter and closed her mouth. Still panting and hyper-concentrated on the girl in front of her. It was clear to Hermione that she'd interpreted her subtle movements as a preparation for an attack, rather than a reaction to her verbal abuse. In that case, surely, that meant that Bellatrix was none-the-wiser of Hermione's newfound difficulties with movement and fully expected her to attack. Meaning she hadn't cursed her, despite what she'd originally believed.
"Damn it, Hermione, now is not the time to freeze!" she scolded herself. It struck her as odd that Bellatrix, one of the most feared and dangerous witches in the world, hadn't chosen to attack her yet. The woman was clearly wounded, apparently on the brink of collapse. Would it not have been a better strategy to strike Hermione when she least expected it? Rather than simply making herself known for nothing but a couple of quips against her opponent. Not only that, but she was also aiming at her with nothing but a finger, rather than her wand. She knew most death eater bodies had been searched and their wands taken away - either to be given to their families or simply to be destroyed and thrown in a ditch along with the owner's remains. Someone had likely gotten to her wand before she'd slipped away from the castle. Wandless magic was an ability even Hermione in her young age had practiced, and there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that the more experienced Death Eater was most likely quite knowledgeable in the art herself. However, no matter how skilled, magic was always at its strongest with a wand, especially when one was being haunted by every Auror and sane person in Britain. What had happened to make Bellatrix expose herself to an enemy in such a precarious position?
"She must truly be insane." Hermione thought. Then found herself thinking of that night in Malfoy manor. Of the unbearable pain in her body as she carved the slanderous words into her arm - all while laughing in glee as if she was nothing but a child playing with her favorite doll. "But I knew that already."
"Where is he?" Asked Bellatrix, after a couple of unbearable seconds of silence. Hermione could barely hear the older woman's voice over the thumping of her own heart.
"Off to get help! And soon every Auror in the country will come looking for you!" Hermione threatened, noticing rather pathetically how meek and awkward those promises sounded coming from her.
"Not Potter, you fool! The boy can wait. I mean Him!"
"Him?!" Hermione already knew the answer before she'd even asked the question. There was only one person who she knew Bellatrix would be looking for no matter her mental or physical state. The same one she'd already given so much of her life for.
"You know who I mean." There was no venom or mockery in her words. It was the first time (as far as she could recall) that Bellatrix didn't sound like her usual, crazy self. She sounded normal. Almost human.
It didn't suit her.
Hermione took a deep breath. No matter how much she was overjoyed by the news of her enemy's demise, it was still difficult making the fateful words leave her mouth. Especially considering who she was talking to. If she didn't know that her master was dead, there was no way of telling how she would react to the news. "In there."
"What?"
She didn't answer, only pointed her finger at the trench behind her to let the other woman come to her own conclusions. There was a small pause as Bellatrix took in what Hermione was referring to before she started limping closer to the frightened girl. For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Hermione's legs finally managed to move - just a moment shy of Bellatrix reaching the spot where she'd once been in such an aggressive and agitated manner that she was sure she would've been pushed aside (or worse, but she didn't want to think of that) had she not moved.
Now that Bellatrix was closer to her and under direct sunlight, Hermione was able to see her condition more clearly. She was completely barefoot, though the absence of her heeled boots did little to level the height difference between the two women - Bellatrix was still quite taller, enough to tower over the other if she wished to be more intimidating. Her once elegant skirt was littered with rips and bathed with so much blood and mud that it made it impossible to even see the intricate designs it was decorated with. The same went for her corset, although there was a much more noticeable tear in her right side (which she was still trying to cover with her arm, to little success), and a hole in her chest; one that marked where Molly's powerful curse had hit her. Her entire body was littered with so many wounds and scars Hermione marveled at the fact that she was even able to stand up, let alone move and leave the castle without raising an alarm. There was no doubt in her mind that Bellatrix would be ready to battle even in the brink of death, but she knew that even she had to have limits. She could only hope that said limitations would give her enough of an upper hand to hold her off until the Aurors arrived or she bled to death, whichever came first.
When Bellatrix turned to face Hermione once more, she was met with the girl's wand pointed at her (well, technically speaking, it was still Bellatrix's wand. But she'd been using it for the battle, and had grown somewhat accustomed to it). For the first time catching her off-guard. A feat the Gryffindor would have relished in had she not been so utterly distracted by the other woman's expression. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Her eyes were staring right into her own, yet gave no hint of her emotional state or any thoughts that could be flowing through her mind. Completely unfocused and empty, the way she imagined people who'd had their souls taken by Dementors would look like. She'd expected raging, furious looks hateful enough to make her drop dead on the spot, or completely deranged and wild eyes trying to discern reality through Bellatrix's lens of madness. But never complete and utter nothingness. "She's going to kill me. She's going to kill me and my parents won't even know they ever had me."
With Bellatrix's focus back on her master's body, the witch sank to the ground. Her weight supported by her knees and both arms. The cut she'd been protecting was now completely visible to Hermione, who quickly noticed that it was much deeper than she'd imagined and with visible signs of infection. Though, oddly, it seemed as if it'd come from a whip. And the only person she knew that used whip-like spells during duels was none other than Bellatrix herself.
"No."
"I'm sorry?"
"NO. You can't be dead. You can't be. There was… there was so much left to do...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Bellatrix's words softened at the end. She'd never seen eyes that expressed such hopelessness and despair in a person before, not even during the most perilous moments of the war. Pain, yes, but never utter and complete defeat, like Bellatrix's world, was crumbling before her and all she could do was apologize to the man she'd given her life to. Her mumblings continued as tears started streaming down her eyes - a jarring sight, to say the last. Had she not seen the extent of the woman's cruelty, and been a victim of her actions herself, she might have even felt sorry for her.
"Help me move him." Said Bellatrix, completely dead-panned, yet with a hint of the assertiveness that purebloods reserved for those they thought were of lesser status.
"I- what?! No!"
"I didn't ask you, mudblood. I'm ordering you. I don't have a wand, and I can't move him on my own. So you'll have to do it with me."
"I'm not going to help you move Vold-" she stopped herself short of saying the word, only because Bellatrix's tensed shoulders and side-eye were frightening enough to almost make her drop dead on the spot, "his body."
"If you think I'm going to allow you and your little friends to disrespect my Lord by throwing him in a common ditch like he's nothing but a low-level muggle then you're dead wrong, mudblood."
"No!"
"Listen, you stupid-"
"You're surrounded by the enemy, have no friends, and have no wand. You can't force me to do anything!" Still gripped by fear and with her heart feeling like it was about to explode, Hermione latched on to what she knew best: logic. "It's over, Lestrange. You can't bring him back."
Bellatrix laughed. Not her manic, ear-piercing crackle, but a normal laugh getting louder by the second. To the point it was so loud she wondered how her vocal cords were still intact. Instinctively, she gripped her wand harder. But Bellatrix didn't move from her position, or move her gaze from the deceased.
"OVER? Ha! You may have taken my Master away, for now-" Hermione didn't miss the way her voice cracked when she said this, " - but it won't last forever. He'll rise again. And again. And again. Until all you filth are taken care of. His cause is alive and well. All throughout the world, witches and wizards, sick of seeing our world plagued by pests. We know what must be done. What my Master knew had to be done. And you're dead wrong if you think we would ever let everything end just because of some brat and his two worthless friends." The dark witch hollered, with such deliberate language and energy that Hermione wondered if she'd come up with her speech on the spot, or if she'd simply memorized it from a propaganda pamphlet. Eloquent as it was, it wasn't enough to convince Hermione. She had seen enough Death Eaters turning their backs on Voldemort to know that they weren't all as loyal and devoted as Bellatrix was. And while the disheartening idea of his hateful beliefs still maintaining their strength throughout their world remained true, as horrible as that was, she knew that it was a mindset that could be challenged and shunned. A society without the hostility she and many others had been the victims of because of their blood would take a long time and effort to form, but it was a future worth fighting for.
"You're wrong. And I won't help you."
"What if I offer something in return?"
"What could you possibly offer that would make me even consider giving you a hand?"
To this, Bellatrix pulled out a small roll of parchment from her corset (Hermione had to look away for a moment. Who hid things there?), and swiped some dust and dirt from it. Apart from some small tears and grime, it looked perfectly fine. Hermione managed to see writing that looked familiar to the ancient runes she'd studied in her sixth year, but Bellatrix rolled the paper again before she was able to make out what it truly said.
"Here are the coordinates to every single one of our most hidden and exclusive hideouts. Reserved for the Dark Lord's inner circle. If you want to find them before they have a chance to reunite and unleash havoc upon you and your friends, I suggest you take it."
"You expect me to believe you'll turn your friends in just like that?"
"They're traitors! Cowards! Deserters!" Bellatrix started shaking with sheer rage as she exclaimed, making Hermione quickly regret even asking in the first place. "The only downside to giving away their location is that I won't be able to kill them myself. There's nothing I want more than to watch them in the throes of agony, crying and screaming for forgiveness as I peel their rotten skin from their muscles-"
Hermione zoned off as Bellatrix continued her rant, disgusted and not particularly interested in listening to the madwoman's descriptions of her favorite torture methods. Something that, fortunately, gave her some time to ponder on the proposed deal. The information Bellatrix held was crucial, and would certainly give them the advantage they needed to find and capture those who managed to escape the castle. It did, however, come at the price of helping the enemy. In a task that seemed simple and relatively harmless, but she knew better not to doubt the woman's true motives. It was a luxury she simply couldn't afford. So, Hermione remained silent. Eyes narrowing and the grasp on her wand tightening as she waited for the other woman's reaction to her refusal to cooperate or for reinforcements to finally arrive, whatever happened first.
"That, and I'll heal your scar."
She could swear the scarred skin underneath her sleeve tingled at Bellatrix's words, but she pushed through to ignore it. "You think I didn't try healing it already? It can't be done. Even Madam Pomfrey said so."
"It's a special wound, one that can only be healed by the person who inflicted it. A trick my Master himself so generously taught me."
"And I suppose you'll want a wand to do it, right? I don't think so."
"Oh please, don't insult my abilities, mudblood. I don't need a wand to perform such simple tasks. All I would have to do is touch your arm for an instant, blindfolded even. Of course, the prospect of touching your filthy skin is less than desirable but, I suppose, necessary." Both women grimaced at that. Bellatrix out of the sheer thought of willingly touching Hermione without harming her, and Hermione at the idea of having Bellatrix so close to her again. "Don't tell me you don't want to rid yourself of such a shameful sign."
A part of her wanted to deny it. To proudly declare that she was wrong and her parentage was no source of shame for her. That her blood didn't make it any less worthy of magic as she was, nor did it make her less capable. But proud as she was, she couldn't forget the sleepless nights she'd spent staring at it. Tracing her fingers over the still-fresh wound and trying not to cry as she was reminded of everything she'd gone through because of the label that would follow her no matter what she did. Years of applying herself to be the best at every class, of excelling in all forms of magic (well, technically not all, but she hardly considered divination to be anything other than parlor tricks and superstitions), and immersing herself in the strange world she'd been thrust into at the tender age of eleven. All things that, in the end, didn't matter. To many, she was still too tainted by muggle blood, too unworthy of magic, too simple, too dirty, too worthless.
It was something she would likely never escape, scar or not, but it couldn't hurt to live without the constant reminder of her pain forever ingrained in her flesh.
"Fine. Just move away so I can levitate the body," Hermione said, looking down at her shoes as she heard Bellatrix shuffling away from her master. For the first time feeling glad that Harry wasn't back just yet - she couldn't imagine how he would feel seeing her striking a deal with the woman who killed his godfather. Out of fear of Harry finding her moving Voldemort's body, Hermione proceeded as quickly as possible. Ignoring Bellatrix's insults and cries to be more careful as she levitated the man and lowered him on the grass not far from where she stood. Bellatrix moved as fast as her wounds allowed her to in order to be next to him once more, but Hermione loudly cleared her throat to gain her attention.
"Don't forget your part of the deal."
Bellatrix grunted in reply and threw the rolled parchment at Hermione's feet, but did no further than that. Sinking down next to her master and carefully placing her hands on his chest.
"And the other thing?" Getting those words out wasn't simple, but necessary. It took longer for Bellatrix to react, which Hermione assumed came from the fact that she wasn't willing to take her hands away from her Lord's body. But she moved nonetheless. And while every part of her body screamed at Hermione to run as Bellatrix approached her, coming to a distance they hadn't gotten to since she'd had her pinned down in Malfoy Manor, she stayed in place.
"You Gryffindors are so brave," Bellatrix remarked, roughly grasping Hermione's wounded arm and raising her sleeve to touch the scar. "Weakness is so everywhere these days. And here you are, letting me come so close to you. It's remarkable, really." Hermione's eyes slowly closed as she felt a warm, calming sensation enveloping her arm. No doubt a result of Bellatrix's healing abilities. Against her better judgment and rational mind trying to pull her aware from this allure, Hermione allowed herself to relax while the other woman moved her lips closer to her ear, softly whispering her words as she worked. "Such a shame that your bravery must be paired with such naivete and stupidity, but at least it makes you easy to pick off."
The calming sensation in her arm was suddenly replaced by a sharp, sinking pain in her palm. Her now-opened and fully active eyes struggled to focus on the image as her other hand rushed to apply pressure on the newly formed wound. Her efforts were fruitless, though, as waves of electric shocks flowed through her hand with the most intense wave of pulsating agony she'd felt in her life. Only surpassed by the effects of the cruciatus curse she'd been subjected to by the same woman who now stood in front of her, cleaning the blood off of the small dagger she'd been hiding in her sleeves with a grimace. Her knees waved and toppled under her weight, too weak to support her any longer. And her eyes finally managed to focus on the ghastly sight of her hand, still pulsing and bursting droplets of blood from the stab wound.
"Argh, muggle blood. Disgusting."
She paid no mind to Bellatrix's mumblings, not able to afford placing her attention on anything other than the damage at hand. Both of her hands turned crimson as the stream flowed through with no hesitation. And by God, did it burn. Like flames had engulfed her hand and were eating away at the skin, muscle, and tissue covering her palm. Her agitated eyes peered themselves away from the wound and into the floor, searching frantically for her wand while her mind focused on remembering what healing spells she'd used on her friends during their travels. Only to find it, much to her dismay, in the hands of the witch before her and pointed in her direction.
"You-" grunted Hermione. The fear and adrenaline flowing through her veins helped her speak and face the other witch.
"Oh, how I missed this wand. What? Oh, come now. Surprised? Don't tell me you didn't see it coming."
"We had a deal!"
"'All is fair in love and war', muddy. Yes, what a wonderful deal it was. I would take away your branding and give you vital information and in return, my Lord would be allowed a second of basic respect before the Aurors arrived to throw him back in and haul me to Azkaban. Did you truly believe I would agree to those terms?" Bellatrix laughed again, reveling in her glory as Hermione lowered her head to the ground in shame. "And to think they really call you the Brightest Witch of Your Age. What a joke!"
"You idiot!" She thought, "how could you not have seen it coming? It's true. It was too good to be true, especially coming from her. You should've known not to deal with Slytherins. She never would've cared about being honorable with a mudblood. You stupid, worthless, idiot!"
"As fun as this was, we do have places we have to be. Too bad I can't stay around, though. I would love to see Potter's reaction to the bloody, mangled corpse of his little girlfriend. Don't worry, since you've made this so easy for me, I'll make it quick. You're welcome." Hermione didn't bother looking up. She didn't want to see the blinding flash of green that was sure to follow. There to take everything away. Just like that. Dead in the castle grounds next to the slain Death Eaters. Outsmarted and alone, left to become another number in the endless list of war casualties. And regretting, out of all things, that she hadn't taken that tea from McGonagall back in the Great Hall.
The light, however, never came. And the only sounds that left Bellatrix's mouth came in the form of a pained grunt as she was suddenly forced to her knees.
"Hermione! Merlin, are you okay?" Exclaimed a racing Harry Potter, still panting and visibly frightened as he lowered himself next to her. With unsure hands, he helped apply pressure to her wound with one hand as the other cast what little healing spells he knew to help soothe the pain. It didn't do much, but his sudden presence aided her more than his weak healing skills ever could. At the very least, she now knew she wouldn't die alone.
Blocking her view was Bellatrix, struggling under invisible ropes and shouting every profanity at Mcgonagall and Slughorn, both of their wands emitting blue, rope-like lights which surrounded Bellatrix. Draco trailed closely behind his professors, though his wand had yet to be raised against his aunt. Whether it was out of cowardice or allegiance towards his family member, Hermione didn't know.
"Miss Granger, whatever happened here? Where did she-"
"I hardly think now is the right time to question the girl, Horace!" McGonagall countered, cutting her colleague off as she peered over Bellatrix to focus on her students. More worried than Hermione had ever seen her before, even during the worst moments of the battle.
"It's- I'm alright!" She lied, still visibly pained by her wound (though Harry had helped a bit, even if his healing abilities left much to be desired). "She came from the wounds asking to see Voldemort-" all parties flinched as Bellatrix started shrieking and berating Hermione at the mention of his name, but she continued, "I thought she was unarmed, so I let her see him. She proposed a deal for me to levitate him out of the ditch but I let my guard down and she was hiding a knife. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done it!"
"Don't apologize, 'mione. We understand," said Harry, his kind tone contrasting the hatred in his eyes as he stared at Bellatrix with a look she was sure could kill a person.
"She wanted him moved?" Draco stood as straight as he could as he focused on the Dark Lord's prone form, still where she had left him for Bellatrix to be with. "Why? What's special about his body?"
"Who cares? Let's just go to the Ministry before she can do anything else. Your lunatic of an aunt probably just wanted to fu-"
Drago shuddered. "That's disgusting, Potter. It's a serious question!"
"Are you stalling for the rest of your Death Eater friends to come to rescue her? Is that it?"
"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, that's enough!" Bellowed McGonagall. Inciting laughter from Bellatrix, who had stopped screaming as the life-long enemies squabbled. Though this time, her giggles were lower and more controlled. Almost as if she were forcing out her reaction and trying to pass it off as natural.
"Imbeciles. Can't see the truth even when it's before your very eyes." She winced as the professors tightened her bindings around her, but continued nevertheless. "The Dark Lord isn't dead. He can't be. Not with me at his side. Throw me in Azkaban! Take my soul! You'll see! He'll come to me just as he's always done!"
"What- you can't be serious!" Replied Slughorn. At first, Hermione wondered if he was asking out of genuine concern, but his appalled expression gave away that he was more surprised than everything. Not at the idea of Voldermort returning after all of his Horcruxes had been destroyed, but at the sight of someone who he'd once taught and proud member of his own house reduced to nothing but a madwoman spewing inconsequential and illogical claims. "He has no more Horcruxes, Harry fulfilled the prophecy. He's gone! I mean, Merlin, Bellatrix! Look at your mark!"
"Horace," warned Mcgonagall, though Hermione wasn't sure if she truly meant any harm.
"My mark? What are you on about, you old coot?"
"Mister Malfoy, raise your sleeve, boy. Show her!"
Draco's hand reached for his sleeve but kept it there with no effort to move the piece of clothing upward. He turned to face his professors with doubt, waiting for Mcgonagall's reluctant and barely noticeable nod before slowly displaying his mark. Which had almost completely disappeared. With only a fresh, pink scar left of the once vibrant blackened design. Slughorn let a sigh of relief and triumph leave his throat as he gazed upon his student's scar, he himself glad to have more confirmation of Voldemort's demise. Yet, still, it wasn't enough to discourage Bellatrix. Whose laughter returned, stronger than ever.
"You underestimate me, Professor," said Bellatrix between chuckles, as she swiftly freed her arm from her bindings (McGonagall and Slughorn were quick to tighten the rest around her midsection and other arm, while Harry pointed his wand at the back of her head, but this did little to stop her). Her now-free arm raised to the skies, letting gravity lower her sleeve for her to reveal her dark mark. Still as dark and fresh as it ever had been. The snake tail moved wildly across her skin, as though it was aware of its audience and willing to demonstrate its strength to the shocked group. "I told you. The Dark Lord isn't gone. As long as his body is in this mortal plane, so will his spirit. And it will never rest."
"How can it be?" Though Hermione. "Is Bellatrix's mark stronger than Draco's because of her relationship to Voldemort? Could she be right? We have to do something!"
"Everyone, that's enough!" McGonagall ordered, stopping everyone's whispers and hushed conversations as they tried to make sense of the sight before them. Including Bellatrix, who had stopped her mutterings upon hearing the older woman's authoritative commands. "Don't let yourselves be frightened. She will be taken to Azkaban immediately, and we can talk about what to do next afterward. Horace, you will help me move her. Mister Potter, take Miss Granger to the infirmary and inform the other Aurors. Mister Malfoy, go with Potter and wait for me to return. I have some questions before I allow you to return to your mother."
"Yes, do as she says! Take me back! See how long it lasts!" Hollered Bellatrix, even as she was levitated off the ground by the two adults. From her bound arm dropped Hermione's wand, who didn't hesitate to take it back as soon as it touched the ground. Armed with a wand once more, she briefly considered using it against Bellatrix before turning to Voldemort. Her adrenaline-filled eyes gleaming with opportunity and her mind swimming with ideas. Bellatrix had mentioned something about Voldemort's body being in their mortal plane, hadn't she?
"I'm sorry, professor. But that simply isn't enough," claimed Hermione, pointing her wand at the corpse. Everyone stopped in their tracks, only adding to the tension so high it could be cut with a knife. But it didn't deter Hermione from her task. "We cannot afford to take any more risks." And with that, a string of fire rapidly shot out of the wand. Immediately engulfing the body in its merciless flames. The smoke from the attack rose dramatically as Bellatrix let out a blood-curdling scream and struggled against her binds, trying to free herself so she could launch herself at Hermione. Yet, despite this, the knowledge of the clear danger she was in were Bellatrix to free herself didn't deter her. The madwoman's screams of agony only informed Hermione of what she had suspected; by destroying the body, she had taken away Bellatrix's chances of bringing back her Master.
"Hermione," Harry tentatively reached out to hold on to her shoulder as she swayed against him. The loss of blood combined with the nearby smoke and protruding, rancid stench of a burning body not doing much to help her current situation. "Why did you- how did you know to do that?"
Hermione's vision clouded before her eyes as her mouth struggled to form her words, but she fought to keep her lids open so they could meet Bellatrix's desperate look. For the first time, not afraid of the witch even as she vowed to kill her and everything she held dear for what she'd done to her master.
"I just knew," she said softly, yet confidently. "They don't call me the Brightest Witch of My Age for nothing." Hermione was only vaguely aware of her body being carried by Potter as he rushed her to the infirmary. Her heart pumping wildly against her ribcage as Bellatrix's screams faded in the background and she allowed herself, for the very first time since Voldermort's downfall, to let herself emit a weak, yet true laugh in the face of victory.
Yes, in true Bellamione fashion, the two don't like each other very much. We'll see how (or if! Who knows) that changes in the upcoming chapters. Next time we'll get to see Hermione a couple of years after the war (finally, I know, considering this is set in the post-war world and I've spent the last two chapters talking about the war and the immediate aftermath), so be on the lookout for that!