Breaking the Window

Chapter 35: Meet the Blacks

As it turned out, Ron had deposited the three of them quite close to Ottery St. Catchpole, which Hermione considered to be a perfect opportunity to visit Mrs. Weasley before going on to Bellatrix' ancestral home.

As predicted, Mrs. Weasley was quite surprised and happy to see them both. And, as predicted, Mrs. Weasley completely stuffed the both of them full of food while bombarding them with hundreds of questions. After experiencing the full brunt of home-made jaffa cakes, fudge, toffee and honeycomb crunchies, Hermione felt as if she was about to explode. Next to her, Bellatrix was suffering from a similar amount of chocolate overdose and looked to be somewhere in between a state of total bliss and stomach rupture. Even the wasp had been spoiled beyond belief, having been fed so much sugar that he was simply sat on the table, too stuffed to even take off. Ron, for all of his fear of spiders, had enjoyed throwing fetch in the yard with Zipper and was a bit disappointed that the wasp didn't seem to be up for another go.

"Oh, would you like some more jaffa cakes, dears?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Oh, no thank you," Hermione replied, the thought of eating more food actually being rather off-putting, despite the deliciousness. There was something to say about consuming too much of a good thing. Still it was good to know that though the wizarding world was divided over her, Hermione knew that the Weasleys, at least, were on her side.

"Mum," Ron frowned. "When was the last time you've made me any jaffa cakes?"

"Well, you haven't disappeared for three years or three decades, now have you?" his mother challenged. "And don't even try thinking to use time travel to get free cakes! I'm on to you!"

Ron threw up his arms in defeat, his mother seemed to remember something. "Oh, miss Black, before you leave... just a moment," she said before rushing off into the living room. The kitchen, where the trio was sat, became mercifully silent.

"She's nice," said Bellatrix. "But she's worse than the journos when it comes to asking questions. I'll give her this much: the jaffa cakes are very good."

"Yeah," Ron gave her an apologetic look. "It wouldn't have been quite this bad if I had a chance to warn her up front. She wouldn't have spent ten minutes swooning and fawning over you. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine," said Bellatrix, once again looking up at the ceiling. Ron raised an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. Bellatrix looked back at him before speaking. "It's just... this house. I'm afraid it might collapse on top of me at any moment."

"Heh, so did Pansy for the first few months," chuckled Ron. "It hasn't collapsed yet and I've been living here for almost twenty years."

"There's a first time for everything," Bellatrix seemed uncomfortable and looked up again.

"I have to ask," said Ron. "Now that you're back, Bellatrix, will you be taking up Quidditch again?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment. "I haven't thought about it. I haven't thought about many things yet. But that might certainly be an option. Why?"

"I'm no fan of Slytherin, but their team is particularly piss-poor this year," said Ron. "Dead last in the tournaments every month, pathetic scores. At least last year they had the excuse that none of the really good players had returned to Hogwarts, but this year? It's enough for even me to give them the underdog sympathies. And, to tell you the truth, I'd be quite interested to see a legend such as yourself get back into action."

"Ron..." Hermione narrowed her eyes. The last thing she wanted now was for either of them to draw more attention to themselves.

"Right, right, sorry I asked," Ron said, but Hermione could already tell my the glint in Bellatrix' dark eyes that the seed of an idea had been planted in her mind.

Great. Just great.

Mrs. Weasley returned with a book in hand, a book Hermione quickly identified as another copy of 'The Short and Tragic Life of Bellatrix Black'. This one seemed to be in a much better state than the one Ron had given Trix earlier today. Mrs. Weasley sat down at the kitchen table again and gently pushed the book towards Bellatrix. "I'm sorry to impose, dear," said mrs. Weasley. "But if would mean a lot to me if you could sign this book."

Hermione looked over Bellatrix' shoulder as she gently opened the leather cover and saw that the front cover was already signed. By Newt Scamander, of all people. "Of course," said Bellatrix. "It's the least I could do after cleaning out your entire supply of jaffa cakes."

Bellatrix took a quill, found a spot on the title page near the other autograph and signed her name with a flourish. Mrs. Weasley looked positively giddy with delight, picked up the book and left it on the windowsill to let the ink dry proper. "Thank you, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "Ron, will Pansy come over for dinner this evening?"

"No," sighed Ron. "Have to be at the office this evening. We'll be leaving for Belgium tomorrow. Another lead on Lestrange."

Mrs. Weasley smiled weakly at Hermione. "I'm so sorry, dear," said mrs. Weasley. "It's rotten luck that the one Death Eater still at large has to be Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Pfft," Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Only proves that he's good at running away."

A shudder went through Hermione. She closed her eyes and, for a brief moment, she was back on the ground of Malfoy Manor, on that fateful day one year... four years?... ago. Rodolphus Lestrange threw her onto the ground, shouting curses at her. He was angry. So angry. Thinking she had taken something from his vault. He was so angry, so... violent. Hermione mostly remembered being so very terrified.

The image shifted for a moment, and it was Bellatrix who was hovering above her instead of Rodolphus. Her head felt like it was about to be split in two until the image shifted again from Bellatrix into Rodolphus, raining blow after blow after blow upon her body. Eventually, Bellatrix faded away and Rodolphus took center stage. God, the memories... the things he did. Hermione simply stopped screaming when she couldn't take it anymore. And then Rodolphus stepped over to the fireplace to get the poker when he felt his fists weren't doing the job anymore.

It was odd, really. There came a point during the whole ordeal where Hermione just became numb to it all. There came a morbid acceptance of what was happening to her and she had withdrawn into herself, thinking of more pleasant times to a point where she barely felt the impacts anymore. Or perhaps it had merely been pain-induced delirium. Who could tell?

It all got very hazy after that. It was hard to move and even harder to breathe. She could taste copper in her mouth. The next thing she remembered was being carried. Ron calling out of his mother. Hearing mrs. Weasley's voice crack when she spoke the words 'Merlin's beard. I... I think she's dead'.

Her being put on a bed. Being given potion. Floating in and out of conscience the next few days. She'd lost so much blood. It had been mentioned how many of her bones had been broken, but even though she couldn't exactly remember the number, she knew it was more than anyone should ever have to suffer through.

At the time, she felt like a failure for being unable to help Harry and Ron infiltrate Gringotts. Of course, Hermione knew neither boy would ever blame her for it. Hell, she'd had enough trouble simply breathing at the time, let alone infiltrating a bank.

"I'm sorry to bring back bad memories, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, reaching over to squeeze her now trembling hand slightly.

"It's alright," Hermione lied. "I..."

"Hermie?" Bellatrix asked.

"Rodolphus..." said Hermione. "He was the one who tortured me, Trix. It was... bad."

"That's an understatement," said Ron. "When I picked you up from the floor, I was so afraid that you were already dead."

"Hermie," Bellatrix said, and Hermione could see her mind working behind her dark eyes. "Merlin, all the times we talked. Those months we got to know each other. I told you about Rodolphus and... that was after you were tortured by him. You never told me!"

"I promised not to tell you about the future," smiled Hermione. It was a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Besides, I don't like to talk about it much anyway. Saving another one of this victims was first and foremost on my mind. And that helped me focus a lot."

"Hermione was here for weeks to recover, the poor dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Potions and spells only get you so far."

'Ain't that the truth', Hermione thought. Though her body had healed over the course of two weeks, her mind and her spirit had taken much longer and arguably still hadn't. In fact, it had started this whole mess of PTSD induced depression, anxiety and abandonment issues. It had brought her one good thing, though: Trix. She turned her gaze to meet Bellatrix'. The curly-haired witch was absolutely outraged. Bellatrix reached over to hold her hand, then kissed her on the cheek and lay her head on her shoulder. Her hand slid across Hermione's upper arm. "So, he did this to you," Bellatrix whispered.

The 'mudblood' scar, she meant. Curious. Shouldn't that be gone? If the time-line had changed and an older Bellatrix was never around to write that slur in her flesh, then why should that be there? Rodolphus never had a knife, after all. She felt the familiar sting expanding through her head and quickly pushed the thoughts away.

"Yes," Hermione lied as the pain started to receed. "Be glad you never married the bastard."

"If he had lain a finger on me, I would have killed him!" Bellatrix hissed and Hermione was absolutely convinced that she would have. "And if he ever crosses my path, I swear I will kill him for what he's done to you, Hermie!"

"No!" Ron interrupted. "If he crosses your path, you don't take him on alone. You run and you call us. He's a very, very dangerous man. We always operate in teams of five for a reason, Bellatrix."

Hermione could see by the way Bellatrix narrowed her eyes that she was less than happy that Ron had doubted her prowess. But Ron was right; though Bellatrix' smarts and power were considerable, she had never become a ruthless and fearless Death Eater in this world... and she'd never have to. "Don't worry," Hermione said, squeezing Bellatrix' hand. "I appreciate the sentiment, Trix, but Ron's right. He's a very dangerous man and we shouldn't risk it. Besides, there's no chance of us ever running into him in the first place."

Finally, it was time to leave. Hermione had to admit that she was quite looking forward to seeing Bellatrix' ancestral home. Her young girlfriend had done a lot to hype it up for her during their many conversations. Not only had Bellatrix spoke of her own with intense affection, but she had made that library sound very especially intriguing. Before they left the Burrow, however, Mrs. Weasley left them with one last important question.

"Would you like some jaffa cakes for the road?"

Apparating onto the grounds of the Black Ancestral manor was a little disorienting at first. Aside from the usual unpleasantness of feeling forced through a thin rubber tube, Hermione felt like she had been pushed through a wall of pudding at the end of the journey before being deposited into some kind of gatehouse.

Hermione rubbed her temples to catch her bearings. They way Trix had explained it was that the anti-apparation field was of a special nature, developed by her grandfather, allowing only family members of the House of Black or their invitees to pass through. How it actually managed to differentiate between the two was something Hermione would very much love to look into.

"Welcome," smiled Bellatrix as she led her out of the gatehouse. "Normally, our butler Sebastian would be here to greet us, but I asked him to remain at the house so I could do the introduction myself."

The moment Hermione stepped out of the gatehouse, her jaw dropped to the ground. She was stood on a path leading in between two massive, sprawling lawns in front of a house that was nothing short of a palace. It was a neo-classical English country house consisting of a large center building three stories high and two sprawling two story wings on either side. A large greenhouse three stories high could be seen attached near the end of the east wing. The main entrance in the center building was nestled in between faux marble columns, while the entire building was dotted with tall multi-paned windows.

All-in-all, it looked like an English country house normally inhabited by the landed gentry, only much much bigger. The other thing out of place were several towers of a more wizarding design. One was an astronomy tower, but Hermione couldn't hazard a guess what the other two were for.

Bellatrix smiled at her, pleased that Hermione was impressed. "Welcome to Catterborough Woodhouse," said Bellatrix, taking her girlfriend by the arm while walking her towards the front door.

"This is a palace," Hermione whispered. "How many people live here?"

"Me, my sister Andie and her family, my parents and my uncle," said Bellatrix. "Oh, and then there's Sebastian and the other servants. They have the servants' wing at the end of the west wing to their full disposal."

"Your servants live at the house?"

"Of course they do. Where else would they live, silly?" Bellatrix grinned. "I can't wait to show you around."

"No wonder you said my parents' house looked cozy," chuckled Hermione. "If you're used to this, my spacious childhood home would indeed look small in comparison."

Bellatrix pursed her lips for a moment. "I want to you to enjoy your stay and sharing my house. I don't want you to be intimidated."

"Hah," smiled Hermione. "It'll take more than a big house to intimidate me."

Bellatrix grinned and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. It was obvious that her intent was to kiss her. Of course, Hermione didn't mind. They hadn't kissed since last night, after all. Their lips met and she enjoyed her girlfriend's closeness. When they broke the kiss, however, Bellatrix frowned and listened for a moment. "Do you hear that? What's that noise?"

Unlike Bellatrix, Hermione did recognize the sound: it was that of an engine belonging to a vehicle which was fast approaching. Hermione spun around and found herself staring right at an oncoming vehicle speeding towards them. The young witch let out a yelp right as the vehicle skidded to a halt while making a ninety degree turn which also had the side-effect of leaving a sizable skid mark in the formerly pristine lawn.

"Ello!" greeted the cheerful woman on top of the machine.

Blinded with rage, Hermione was sure to give the uncouth lout a piece of her mind. If this woman hadn't managed to push the brakes in time, there was no doubt in her mind that both she and Trix could have been run over. However, when she took in just who it was on top of the machine, her words of anger died in her throat.

"Tonks?" Hermione whispered, her mouth forming a warm smile. Tonks looked to be her usual self, though wearing a lot more… black leather. Her hair subtly shifted through a spectrum of dark colours and, of course, she hadn't bothered to put on a helmet.

Tonks, for her part, looked confused. "Sorry, have we met?"

"Hey Nymphadora," Bellatrix greeted. "This is Hermione."

"AH!" Nymphadora laughed. "The controversial time-travelling girl who's fucking my also time-travelling aunt! Pleased to meet you!"

Hermione was so stunned that the crass statement completely passed her by. Her memory went back to the battle of Hogwarts where both her body and that of Remus Lupin had been laid out in the Great Hall. Tonks had been as dead as dead could be. Yet, here she was. Instantly, her head exploded with pain yet again.

No. No, that wasn't right. Only Lupin had been laid out in the Great Hall. Tonks... had never been there. In fact, she'd never met Tonks until today. Hermione grunted, grabbing her head as her mind tried to make sense of these two very contradictory memories. The pain faded when she accepted that this Tonks was not the same Tonks she had known and was someone she had never met before.

"You alright?" asked Tonks. No, Nymphadora.

"Sorry," said Hermione. "Migraines."

"Sucks," replied Nymphadora. "Stop by my room later. I have some strains which might help with that. Might make you less high strung too."

Strains? Was she talking about... cannabis? Well, that would explain the pungent odour hanging around her like a psychedelic aura. This Tonks really was different and she supposed it made sense: Bellatrix had never been around to kill her. In fact, she never even became an auror, it seemed.

"Nymphadora," Bellatrix asked. "What is that thing you're sat on?"

"Oh, this?!" Nymphadora said, patting the machine for good measure. "This is a Honda TRX four-wheel drive quad-bike. I bought it from this week's pocket money. Four-stroke engine, liquid cooled, max speed of 74 miles per hour. I gotta tell ya, there's nothing quite like the feeling of 40 horsepower rumbling between your legs! Woof!"

Bellatrix blinked. "No idea what any of that meant."

"Remind me to take you for a spin later," said Nymphadora, revving the engine for good measure. "I'll be off now. Nice to meet you, Hermione. See you both later!"

The quad-bike sped off, leaving a second unsightly blemish on the lawn. Hermione watched her go for a moment: it seemed that her rescue of Bellatrix had some unintended benefits. Tonks... no, Nymphadora, was very much alive and, even though this version of her was a bit of an arse, she quite enjoyed the idea of getting to know her all over again.

A hike which took a lot longer than Hermione was expecting later, she and Bellatrix entered the front door, which swung open widely for them. Inside was a grand entrance hall meant to impress: magical artifacts of all ages were on display, as were the banners of House Black. The family crest looked particularly intimidating: a skull above an armoured hand clutching a wand, above three ravens in turn above the family motto 'Toujours Pur'. This sizable hall had a massive set of stairs leading up to the second and third floor and entrances on all sides into corridors leading further into the house.

A thin man stood there waiting, accompanied by what looked to be a young maid. The man looked to be older than he should be, grey hair and looking particularly snappy-dressed while supporting himself on a cane. The man scrutinized her carefully for a moment, his dark eyes focused intensely upon her. It made her feel a little uncomfortable.

"Father!" Bellatrix greeted and treated the old man to a brief embrace. "You came to greet us."

Father? Ah, this must be Cygnus Black, then. No wonder she was being scrutinized.

"Of course," said Cygnus before addressing her. "Apologies, miss Granger. It is custom for the head of the household to greet an honoured guest, but unfortunately Andromeda is currently indisposed with an urgent matter. Said task now falls to me."

Honoured guest? As a muggle-born, part of Hermione expected her to be as welcome as a fox in a hen-house. Still, that didn't seem to be the case, so far.

"As such," said Cygnus. "We formally welcome you to our house and urge you to partake in all the hospitality Catterborough Woodhouse has to offer. We only ask that you do not overstep your bounds and respect the privacy of the household's quarters."

"Thank you," said Hermione, having the urge to bow and curtsy. "I must admit that, knowing your family motto..."

"... you are surprised we are letting a muggle-born into our house?" Cygnus chuckled. "You'll find more surprises. If we hadn't allowed muggle-borns in our house, then we would not have our delightful granddaughter either. You likely came across her on the lawn playing with her new machine."

Hermione took in that information. "In either case, thank you again. Though I might need a map to traverse this massive house."

"Right here," Bellatrix tapped her head.

"Normally, showing guests around the house is also the duty of the head of the house or a chosen representative," said Cygnus. "Though considering I am old and Bellatrix is young and enthusiastic, I will leave that task to the daughter of the household."

Indeed, Bellatrix looked particularly bouncy as she hooked her arm through Hermione's and seemed eager to show off the house. They never really got anywhere because the moment Bellatrix wanted to drag her off, there was a call from the second floor. An older woman with many grey curls was accompanied by an older man as they came down the stairs.

An older man Hermione knew to be dead. Yet here he was, alive and well.

Achille Rosier, holding his sister by the arm, strode the stairs smiling at her. He looked exactly as he had that time they met in Manchester... or the time she watched him die through the Fae Mirror. She remembered it clearly. Immediately, Hermione braced herself for a headache. A headache which never came. Curious.

Well, she wouldn't look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Achille Rosier had been nothing but kind to both her and Bellatrix, so seeing him alive and well was very much a good thing.

"Chouchou," greeted the woman, speaking with a French accent. "Give your maman an 'ug."

Bellatrix did so, eagerly. Hermione could tell that her mother didn't want to let go of her. However, Bellatrix balked when her mother started to coo over her and kissed the top of her head. "Maman," whispered Bellatrix, trying to break free of the embrace. "Not in front of Hermione!"

That made Hermione chuckle. Fortunately, her mother got the hint and released her embarrassed daughter.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle Granger," Druella Black took hold of the sides of her dress with the tips of her fingers and gave a slight bow. "Granger... Of the Dagwood-Grangers?"

Hermione put a finger to her lips. "Everyone keeps saying that. I should really find out if there's a connection there."

"You really should," Cygnus nodded. "Family is important, after all."

"Hm," said Druella. "Normally, I would invite you to enjoy midday meal with us, but considering the both of you 'ave been stuffed full of jaffa cakes..."

Hermione frowned. How did Bellatrix' mother know that? Was she still spying on them? Hm, spying might not be the right word, but

"Oh, no mention of food! No!" Bellatrix groaned.

"Dinner it is then," Cygnus interrupted with a chuckle. "Our Bella has already regaled us with tales of your fantastic adventures. Perhaps you would share a few more?"

Hermione nodded with a smile, turning to see Achille smiling enigmatically at her. "Indeed," said he. "I'm 'oping to speak to you later, mademoiselle Granger. We have a lot to discuss. Also, Bella, 'ave you been keeping up with your writing?"

Bellatrix pursed her lips. "I haven't had much time to think about it."

"Creative efforts are important, cherie," he greeted. "Speaking of which, I should be getting back to my atelier. This gathering of people 'as given me inspiration which I must put to canvas."

"Very well," said Cygnus. "While Bella shows you around the house, we'll have the finest guestroom prepared for her. We..."

"What?" Bellatrix interrupted, raising her chin imperiously. "Father, Hermione will be staying in my room with me. She doesn't want to be anywhere else but in my bed!"

That was a statement which made Hermione raise her eyebrows. Certainly, it wasn't an untrue statement, but the way she had just blurted this out in front of both of her parents was a bit... embarrassing. It was obvious that Bellatrix intended to challenge him further, but any such challenge was nipped in the bud by the words of her mother. "Chouchou!" spoke Druella with slight force of voice. "Don't be so crass! A woman needs to 'ave a private place to withdraw to. If she decides to share your bed this evening, that is fine. But you will give mademoiselle Granger the courtesy of choice!"

To Hermione's surprise, Bellatrix was instantly deflated and lowered her gaze. "Yes, maman," she replied with a tone which was so demure that Hermione considering it alien to her girlfriend. It seemed there was only one person in the world who could put Bellatrix in her place and, appropriately enough, it was her own mother of all people.

Still, as welcomes went, Hermione had found it to be quite pleasant. She expressed her gratitude to Bellatrix' parents and let Bellatrix take her by the hand to give her a private guided tour of her house. They would start off at the central building and work their way through the rest of the house. The first thing Bellatrix did, however, was to release Zipper from her bag. The giant wasp merrily buzzed into a corridor, headed into what seemed to be the east wing.

"Trix?" Hermione asked after turning back to Bellatrix. "What did your father mean when he asked me not to overstep my bounds? Something I should worry about?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Doubtful. That's a code phrase for 'don't try to rape our maids or steal our stuff and you'll suffer the consequences if you do'. It wasn't specifically aimed at you, though. Don't worry about it."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait. 'Don't try to rape our maids?'. What's that all about? Did that actually happen?"

"Oh, yes," said Bellatrix, raising her eyebrow as they stood in one of the corridors leading deeper into the central building. "You'd be surprised what people feel entitled to help themselves to. We have a lot of foreign and domestic visitors ranging from politicians, businessmen, diplomats or simply researchers who want to make use of our library. There are those who think they can get away with anything ranging from trying to steal tomes from our library or pushing a maid to the bed."

"Jesus..." Hermione muttered.

"And before you say anything, no, it's not just pure-bloods who try to exploit our family's hospitality," said Bellatrix. "Father always dealt with them swiftly and decisively. And if I know Andromeda, she'll be even harsher. Now, shall we continue?"

The first stop was apparently the family chapel near the back of the central building. Though Hermione was aware that English country houses usually had a small chapel, Bellatrix had never struck Hermione as particularly religious. When she entered the chapel, however, it was not what she had expected. There was no Christian element in the chapel at all. No cross, no altar and no pews. A few stain-glass windows of more modern construction depicted the Crann Bethadh, the Celtic Tree of Life. In fact, there was a lot of maintained greenery in the chapel, staged around a small holly tree at the back. In front of the holly tree was what looked to be an utterly ancient statue of Cernunnos. The Horned God was depicted as a bearded man with a deer's antlers, sat cross-legged with a torc in one hand and a staff in the other.

The staff was likely a precursor to the wand as ancient wizards performed magic either wandless of through a specially carved staff. That would make this statue at least three thousand years old.

Hermione watched as Bellatrix took a few muggle pennies and gently placed them in the offering bowl. She drew her wand and used it to light both a candle and some incense placed next to the offering bowl.

"Hm," said Bellatrix after smelling it. "I think Sebastian put some dried oak leaves into the mixture. Smells nice."

"I didn't know you worshipped Cernunnos," said Hermione.

"I don't," replied Bellatrix. "Or... I don't think I do. I just offer a little copper or tin now and then for good luck. I just hope the Horned God doesn't charge any back-taxes."

Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"What's that smile?" Bellatrix grinned at her.

"It's just that you never cease to surprise me," replied Hermione. Bellatrix continued on with the tour, through the house, the living quarters, the sun-rooms, the sadly now empty private zoo, the greenhouse while rather enthusiastically telling Hermione all about the history of her house and many anecdotes from her own youth growing up with her sisters. Apparently, Bellatrix had been working up to the main event, which was the Catterborough Woodhouse's library. Bellatrix opened the oaken double doors into the library, revealing a spacious two story library at the end of the west wing.

And what a library it was! A massive bottom floor filled with bookcases, and two parapets with more bookcases running along the sides of the room. Books, books, books and more books. Stacks with books, books in display cases, books piled up as far as the eye could see!

Hermione's mouth dropped to the floor the moment she laid eyes upon the massive room filled to the brim with books. "You… you have this? Locked away in your home?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Not exactly. We often have researchers who stay at the house as guests, like I told you earlier. It's a bit of a tradition to ask for a donation of a rare book to our library in return. But I'll waive that in your case."

"May I..." Hermione asked hopefully as she let her eyes rove over the titles of many rather rare magical works.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Uhm, I'm not going to lose you to our library, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I might be in here for a couple of weeks."

"I'll make sure to have Sebastian drag you back to bed when it gets late. My bed, preferably," Bellatrix winked.

Of course, that was probably the only thing which could convince Hermione to leave a library filled with rare tomes.

As it turned out Hermione would spend precious little time with the tomes in the library. Instead, she found herself in Bellatrix' room. Or, more accurately, Bellatrix's wing. There was a common lounge area with sofas and tables and three separate bedrooms. Apparently, Bellatrix' sister Andromeda's old room was now occupied by her daughter while Bellatrix had claimed her old room.

A room which was almost as large as the entire first floor of her own home at the Heath. To her surprise and delight, Hermione found the room to be appropriately girly. The huge four-poster bed had an small army of stuffed animals on top and many framed posters of famous witches past adorned the wall. A place of honour was given to Eleanor Snowbell, just above the mantle of the room's fireplace. The room also had a private bathroom and a huge walk-in closet. The room itself was divided in a sleeping area, an office area and an honest to goodness dining area. Bellatrix had really grown up in the lap of luxury.

Hermione and Bellatrix sat cross-legged on the floor near her bed, surrounded by hundreds of photographs and notes, all neatly lain out. Like they had discussed, one of the things they would do while here was to submit their discoveries to the Linnaeus Qualification Board.

The process was simple: submit a form with a clear description, circumstances of discovery and add photographic evidence. Unfortunately, they would have to repeat the process for every single one of the species they had discovered... and they had discovered quite a lot of different plants and animals. Quills moved over the forms with rapid pace as enthusiasm had given way to tedium. They'd been at it for hours and they had barely covered half of their discoveries.

"There has to be a way to do this in bulk," muttered Bellatrix.

"I don't think they ever considered someone discovering quite as many new magical species as we have," replied Hermione.

"Think we could cut some corners here and there?" asked Bellatrix. "I mean, they must realize our correspondence address stays the same after the 10th form, right?"

"They might read our last submitted form first," said Hermione. "And filling out an incomplete form is grounds for rejection."

"Bugger."

"Toughest part is determining the genus of the new species," she said, glancing at a few books rather thick on magic herbology and zoology from the library. "I'm really glad you decided to press samples of all the plants we discovered or this would be a lot harder."

Hermione shifted a little to get out of the lotus position and ground the side of her hip over of the ground. A sharp pain shot through her leg as something hard and sharp pressed into her leg. Hermione reached in and pulled out the crystal she had taken from the Fae Realm. It still had its internal glow, from whatever she had charged it with or had downloaded from the ancient computer. She'd almost forgotten about it.

"What's that?" Bellatrix asked.

"Hm?" said Hermione, looking up. "Oh. It's a crystal Zipper found in the control room back in the Fae Realm. I've simply pocketed it several times since we came back to our world. I put it inside the machine and it did something with it, not sure what exactly and I think we'll never know."

Bellatrix took it from her and held it out to the light. "Pretty little thing," Bellatrix whispered.

"Hard as a diamond too. Ouch!" Hermione rubbed her now sore hip.

"Hold on," said Bellatrix as she rushed to her feet and headed to the large steamer trunk at the foot-end of her bed. She spoke the pass phrase which, much to Hermione's amusement, was 'Trixie loves chocolate cake'. After rummaging around for a bit in the chest so huge that Hermione feared that the small Bellatrix might tip right into it, the curly-haired witch emerged with her prize: a small wooden box. She opened it and produced a simple silver necklace with an empty head. Bellatrix took the crystal and held it against the head. One tap with her wand and the clasps of the head formed tightly around the crystal, turning it into a pendant.

"There," grinned Bellatrix and held out the necklace for Hermione to examine.

"That... does look nice," replied Hermione.

Bellatrix took the necklace again, undid the clasp and moved behind her. Hermione felt her slip the necklace around her neck, the pendant dangling at the upper part of her sternum. Bellatrix did the clasp and let her soft fingers linger on the skin of her neck before brushing through her hair and sliding down her shoulders. Bellatrix led her to a standing mirror where Hermione could admire her new necklace in the mirror. It definitely looked pretty on her, but her gaze was mostly drawn to Bellatrix' dark eyes which were full of want and desire.

"It'll be time for dinner in an hour," said Bellatrix still running a hand through Hermione's brown hair.. "We have some time to kill. Say, Hermie? Why aren't you a proper witch?"

Hermione frowned, raising an eyebrow. She shifted a little to look Bellatrix in the eye, maybe to glare a little. "I beg your pardon?" she demanded.

Bellatrix dismissed her bristle with a wave of her hand. "This is not about your blood or your magical ability. This is about your attire. If you want to look like a proper witch, you need to dress like one. All I've ever seen you in is that drab muggle clothing. You already have the magical necklace. Why not go all the way?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I suppose I like muggle clothing. It's what I know best."

"Have you ever tried dressing like a traditional witch?" asked Bellatrix with a raised eyebrow.

"Well... no..." Hermione muttered.

"Come," said Bellatrix, taking Hermione by the hand and dragging her into a walk-in closet. Though calling it a closet would be a disservice seeing it was large enough to be a room of its own. The entire room was filled to the brim with dresses, coats, shoes, hats and accessories and contained enough clothing for an entire family. Some of these dresses looked to be brand new and never been worn. Not surprising, almost all of them were black.

"Undress," Bellatrix demanded while going through dresses. Of course, when she was in a mood like this, Hermione knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Soon enough, Hermione was stripped to her underwear. "Bra too," Bellatrix added without looking over her shoulder.

Hermione felt a little exposed standing in a strange house wearing only her knickers. Bellatrix would come to the rescue soon enough with what she called a 'perfect' dress for her. It was a satin back dress with a leather bodice and silver runes embroidered onto the sleeves. Hermione pulled it over her head and found the dress to be comfortably hugging all her curves as the magic nature of the fabric stretched and adjusted itself to become Hermione's size. The fabric felt so nice on her skin and the leather bodice held it firmly in place, especially after Bellatrix waved her wand to tighten the laces in the front.

As an added bonus, it gave a little push-up effect to her bosom. Though it felt a bit weird at first, she was quite pleased with the results.

The sleeves were flared below the elbow as befitting a witch and a wand-holder was attached to the bodice. Hermione took her wand and sheathed it, before adjusting her necklace to sit properly. Unfortunately, Hermione's feet were slightly bigger than Bellatrix', so she had to made do with her own sneakers. Still, underneath the dress, they were hardly noticeable. A long black cloak was first draped over her shoulder and then attached to the dress with clasps. It was heavier than she expected.

Bellatrix added the finishing touch by putting a floppy, wide-brimmed and pointy hat on top of her head. It fit her perfectly.

"There," said Bellatrix while Hermione admired herself in the mirror. "Now you look like a proper witch should!"

It looked nice. It felt nice too. Honestly, Hermione wondered why she had never actually dressed like a traditional witch before. This wasn't any formal wear either. She could go out like this to a public wizarding place and nobody'd ever bat an eye.

"Keep the clothes," said Bellatrix. "They look nice on you and I have more than enough dresses."

"Oh, I couldn't..."

"Hush and accept," grinned Bellatrix. "Though if you like, you could pay me back over the next, hm, forty-five minutes."

Hermione knew exactly what Bellatrix meant. Both girls giggled when Bellatrix took her by the hand and dragged her out of the closet and towards the huge four-poster bed. Once there, the curly-haired witch practically threw her onto the mattress. There was an angry buzzing coming from near her. Apparently Zipper had decided to take a nap among the army of stuffed animals on top of Bellatrix' bed. The drowsy wasp teleported from his perch to the side of the bed where he walked around a bit and promptly went back to sleep after curling up against another stuffed animal.

Meanwhile Bellatrix lay down next to her and, when both girls lay on their sides, they gently embraced and took a moment to gaze into each other's eyes. Hermione smiled when she saw the desire, the love, in Trix' dark eyes. God, she wanted to drown in those eyes.

Their lips met, a gently brush at first. But Bellatrix was hungry and soon parted Hermione's lips to invade her mouth with her tongue. Hermione's tongue circled hers. Playfully. Eager. And this was only the start.

Forty-five minutes until dinner.

Forty-five minutes of nothing but intense and passionate snogging.

Hermione could learn to like this. A lot.