Warning: Violence, past trauma, mentions of abuse. General warnings.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.

Enjoy...

Chapter Twenty Three

Breathe

I ask myself, am I God or shit?
Am I the high, the low? I'm fucking worth it
And I ask myself, am I love or hate?
You are the reason I have and why I can't quit

Oh, I can feel a holy war
Yeah, I can feel a holy war within
No, I can't take a holy war
No, I can't take a holy war again

Is this what you wanted?

(The In Between - In This Moment)

Recap of Chapter Twenty Two...

They had found an old campsite, incredibly old could feel the magic still lingering. A collapsed tent torn to shreds, nature starting to reclaim it. They spotted a snitch amongst the soil, confirming their suspicions. A wand snapped, an eerie sight to remind them that they are not alone.

"Ten to twenty years? Could be more, why?" Bellatrix asks.

"Just wondered, could you imagine the fear they must have felt?"

She could imagine it, has imagined it, felt it not long ago. She hopes to never feel it again she chooses to take first watch. Not trusting the silence, nor the talk.

"I'll take the first watch," Granger says.

"I've got it."

"Honestly, Bella it's fine. Besides his active now, best to stay awake don't want him to go eating the local wildlife."

"True," Bella concedes they might have some immunity, but she wouldn't recommend eating contaminated animals.

Stretching she tips her drink over their little fire, removing the kinks in her back. She doubts she'll get much sleep tonight. Not with the strange air. A hand grabs hers making her still, stopping her entrance into the tent. Following the slender arm, Bella raises an eyebrow at Granger.

"Want a goodnight kiss?" Bella teases with a smirk.

"No," Granger chuckles with a blush, Bella ignores the pinch of disappointment. "I never said thank you."

"For what?" Bella asks.

"The earmuffs, for the charms. It helps a lot to fall asleep with." She stumbles over the words in a dorky fashion that is oddly cute.

"It was nothing," Bella answers, it took forever and a day to figure out.

The hand remains firm in hers, soft not like she scarred rough hands. No Granger's remains free of dirt, of secrets and blood. Despite her thoughts, Granger is far from a killer, Bella doubts the witch will ever really feel the urge. In some ways, she hopes to keep Granger pure, despite their circumstance she wants to keep these hands smooth.

"Still I appreciate it." Granger's voice is gravelly, her eyes soul searching.

"Your welcome."

She pulls away ignores the flicker of hurt, the sigh of acceptance from Granger as Bella retreats into the tent. Settling on the bed she rubs her eyes, she's becoming soft. The trials are getting to her, it doesn't mean she doesn't want to go back out there and hug the witch. She's always been open with her emotions good or bad.

Towards her later life, she hid her happy emotions the real emotions, but the openness stayed. In interrogation, bed, or general life. Approaching people's personal space good or bad, she always has. With Granger, though the urge to be in her space is something else, she wants to close the distance. To hug, she tries to resist but forgets sometimes. It's natural for her to reach out, even her Lord despite numerous hexes grew used to her actions.

However, she wants to hide this part from Granger, doesn't want to get any more attached than necessary. Friend. The words taste funny on her tongue, she hasn't had a friend in a very long time. Comrades, associates, and lovers but friends? True friends, no she cannot recall a real friend. She craves it, wants to make Granger her friend accept the offer Granger throws her way. The open arms because she will ruin the witch. It is best not to damage her more than she already has.

Friends though? She could be a friend, aren't they already? Yes, she could be a friend. Maybe. - Chapter Twenty Two

The liquid is warm it soothes the muscles, wearing her senses. She should care, she's too content to move. Some muggle booze does the trick as the sun beats down on her pale body. She dressed for this, enjoying the sun. Her toe digs in the sand without thought, she hums a small tune to herself.

Somewhere to her right, also tipsy, Granger is reading lounging in her sunbed. Head buried in a tome, lost to the world. Bella flags a passing waitress, more alcohol she needs this. They need this.

Eyeing the sea, she wonders who will get the bet right. What shit will come flying their way, not very often they land in paradise. Granger has money on them dying by a tsunami; Bella was torn between forest fire or an army of flying mosquitoes. She is not sure why she cares, it's her own money they're betting, Granger got it right last time. Annoyingly, Bella's sure she cheated.

More booze arrives, a glance from the witch besides her a slender shoulder shrug. If this was a trial, she's making full use of it. The witch still accepts the new drink without any further argument, they both ignore the lingering eyes of horny men as they wander by. Today she will tan her pale body. She missed this when in Azkaban, the first night of freedom she rushed to feel the grass beneath her feet waited for the sun to rise.

"What do you think," Granger asks rolling on to her back, book forgotten she sinks into her bed. "Will they write about us?"

"They already have."

The splatter of sand narrowly misses her drink, a threat issued, a finger returned. A standoff, glaring, Bella brushes the sand from her body. A smirk laces her lips, she likes this spunk of Granger. Ignores how they have fallen into this comradery. Too much time has passed to care, because like most things they don't speak of it. They don't speak how Granger no longer looks like an awkward teen but a young woman. How they both know she is far from the seventeen she once was. Perhaps Nineteen? Time becomes a distant relation in this world, they stopped looking at the papers. It became too disheartening.

This was the challenge, a promise of paradise, why would they want to leave. Would they want to leave, she's not sure anymore? They've been beaten, robbed, shot at, stabbed, jailed and so much more. A piece of paradise is worth their soul.

"If we never make it out, do you think the world will remember us?"

"Probably some cold case buried in Auror records." Bella shrugs sipping her beer. "Why worried Rita might write something?"

"It's sad," Granger chuckles to herself. "I can imagine it now, the virgin witch."

Spluttering, Bella chokes on her drink cackling with amusement. A laugh from the witch besides her, they laugh to themselves. It's exactly what Rita would write.

"She wouldn't be wrong mind," Bella comments.

"No, that's the sad thing about it."

With a snort, Bella swigs the rest of her drink. Watching as Granger flags down the waitress once more order of some chips and more drink. They fall into silence once more waiting for food to arrive. The chips steaming as they arrive, the squirt of mayo on the plate.

"How shallow is it of me to fear dying a virgin?" Granger asks.

"We can cure that pretty quick. Take your pick Granger someone on this beach will fuck you." Bella replies, reaching for the chips.

"That's not… That's not what I meant."

"OH… You mean the other thing." Bella whispers.

"A connection."

"Love." Bella mocks.

"Shut up."

"Trust me, love is overrated. Find someone shag them, sex is fun, but it becomes bland quick. Don't ask me it's not like I've been married or had a list of lovers."

"Is that how Nymph came about?"

It's a bold question, it takes every part of her to stop herself from reacting to the name. To stop herself from reaching for Granger's throat. She wants to, wants to wrap her hands around that little throat push her against the ground. Swear bloody murder, to carve her knife into her skin hear her scream.

She shakes her head, pushing the thoughts from her mind, the urge a bad taste on her tongue. Because Granger is merely asking, not probing, just idly chatting. Besides, these days Bella isn't sure she could win a fight against the witch a duel, yes, but a hand to hand. Granger has grown stronger out here, taller, she would have the upper hand. Besides the witch has a good right hook that she's not afraid to use. Twenty-seven. The number pops into her mind, twenty-seven duels recently and Granger hasn't lost a single one. She's only counting because she taught Granger. It reflects on her skill as a teacher nothing else.

"Does he know, I mean did he know?"

"He?" Bella repeats realising granger has been prattling along all this time.

"Frank Longbottom, did he know about Nymph?"

"No, he'd probably react as badly as Rod." Bella answers.

"What?"

"What?"

"You had an affair with a Longbottom, if Mr Longbottom isn't Nymph's dad who is?"

"Alice."

"What?"

"What?"

"I don't understand."

"That makes a change." Bella quips.

"How?"

"Oh, I don't know, magic?" Bella chuckles. "Close your mouth before you choke on bloodsucker."

"Mosquito." Granger corrects automatically. "So, she has two mums?"

"Probably explains her Metamorphmagus, most likely occurred due to her magical birth."

Silence, it's unnerving when Granger goes quiet, it means she's thinking. Thinking faster than most can keep up. Even as she munches on the remains of the chips, she's staring at Bella as though she's some sort of experiment. It's a time like this, under Granger's scrutiny she feels most exposed. Those honey brown eyes are a gateway to the young witch's mind.

The waitress comes back around hovering like those annoying insects, a loyal obedient pet, hounding them for more tips. A simple way to keep the help close, tips, it makes them linger longer. Makes them come around, hungry for more. Anything to boost their poor wages. Bella wants to flag more drinks, but Granger is waving the waitress away with enough air of authority it would make Bella's mother proud.

Any second now they'll be a follow-up question, Granger already intrigued by the talk of magical conception. Intrigued by Bella's history, why Bella doesn't know. Granger doesn't use it as a weapon, it's almost as though the witch is intrigued. As though Bella is worth getting to know.

"Did you always want children?" The question catches Bella off guard.

Bella studies the witch as she relaxes back on her bed, the atmosphere discharging, the flagging down for more drinks. The scurrying of the waitress. The book lifted; the page reacquainted with the reader. Granger throws Bella a look, an acknowledgement that despite the reading, she is still very much listening.

"No," Bella answers uneasily unsure where this questioning is leading. "We were young, just messing around with magic, honestly we just wanted to see what it is like. We chose between a couple of spells, didn't read the full instructions. Another spell would have been more suitable, didn't realise the issue with the original spell until six months later. Thankfully, my Lord and husband were busy, they didn't notice my absence at the time."

A nod, subtle, acknowledgement of the statement. Because it was all just an accident, she never wanted to be a mother. A reason her sister hated even more. Bella can have kids but does not want them, Andy is unable to have them desperately wanting.

It clicks the avoidance of the eye, the flicking of pages. Granger's not probing her history she's looking for something. An answer from Bella's history, from Bella herself.

"Why do you ask?" Bella wonders for the first.

The question takes Granger by surprise, Bella is never one to enquire into Granger's state of mind. But she can see something is bothering the witch. Something last few days has been playing on her mind. These questions were all part of it.

"You know, it sounds crazy," Granger sighs setting the book down she rests her head on her knees watching the muggles in the distance. "Sometimes, I don't want to return home."

It doesn't sound crazy, not to Bella. Because out here they were no one, they had nothing. They just survived, despite the danger, the fear and the constant threat of death. Out here, they are just two witch's surviving. Despite the bad, there were good, fun days, sights that more would dream of seeing. The world is so much bigger than she ever imagined.

"It doesn't sound crazy to me." Bella admits quietly.

"It's just back home, it seems so trivial now. I was so worried about my school record, getting the best scores. Working towards becoming a big influence in the ministry, making change. Helping Harry, stopping You Know who, it was all I ever focussed on. You know my bogart was McGonagall telling me I failed my tests."

"Serious?"

"Yep. Now though, out here, it all just seems pointless. My whole life just seems pointless. In the grand scheme of things, I just don't feel as though my life was going to change anything. So, in grossed in my future in things out of my control I forgot what it was like to live my life. I also know, where I'm going, they will expect me to have a husband, a family. Because that's what all good respectable ministry workers have. Have children, raise a family…"

"You don't want kids?" Bella guesses.

"God no," Granger breathes. "Since I was young, my mother was always like you'll find a young man who will make you happy. Have your own little family blah blah. Except, I don't want kids, used to say this and she would always just say I'd change my mind. But I don't. They hold no interest to me. I feel selfish for saying it."

"No one can make you have kids Granger."

"Is that why you joined him? Why do you choose to follow him?"

Ah, there it was, after all this time Granger had figured her out. These last few days through her revelation about society, Granger had come to understand Bella.

Pain.

It's abrupt, makes her jump, a flinch. Nothing. It's fleeting. Granger is next to her passing their empty glasses back to the waitress. Touching her side, she focuses back on the hand offering her the next beer. She accepts gingerly, running a hand through her sweaty hair.

"You promised to the Lestrange family not long after you were born," Granger comments recalling an earlier conversation.

"Ten days old." Bella nods. "Our marriage was organised at ten days old. Father wanted boys, a disappointment for him, even bigger disappointment when Andy never bled. A healer explained she was unable to carry a child, it's bad enough having a girl, let alone a girl that could not bear children. I think in some ways he was relieved when Andy ran away, before her own arranged marriage. No longer damaged goods, she just existed. The pressure, however, before all this was on me. To provide the next lineage. I didn't want kids, I wanted more."

She wanted so much more for herself; she didn't want to become the stay-at-home mum that was expected of her. To be the dutiful wife to Lestrange who waited on him, who birthed his children. So, she became more, so much more. She ensured she beat everyone in her class, her scores would go down in history. The world saw her only as a Black woman, deemed to carry the future names. Her mother named her after a warrior and that was what she would become.

Her skill drew his attention, her name gained his acknowledgement, the money eased their first meeting her intended marriage promised a bond. She was everything he needed, skill, money, family name. He was her promise away from being nothing. From the life of being a Lestrange.

He promised her the stars, the freedom she could only imagine. Away from the restraints of society, she becomes more than a birthing machine. She became his most trusted, became notorious, her name was known for more than her family. It was known for her skill, for the name she made.

She just never realised it would cost her so much. A promise of freedom away from her family, from her obligation, what good would a pregnant Lieutenant be to him. He did not need her offspring. He needed her.

She was young, naïve. It was easy at first, he saw her the real her. He visited while she was off from school, promised a life outside of the world. Promised her magic. No mention of the blood that would need to spill. His lessons were harsher than her uncles, his wrath faster. She learnt quickly not to disobey him. She craved his affection. He informed her marriage to Lestrange, it was all for name's sake. He spent months training her, teaching her, his protégé. The pain was worth the attention.

At times she would tell herself the torturing, the attacks on civilians were all for his cause. That everything they did was right. That they were at war, there would be no mercy in war. That she enjoyed the pain she inflicted. She did, at times. At night, the truth would whisper, she became the monster out of fear. Because she had seen what happens to deserters, what happened to those who failed to obey. She had tasted her lord's anger, first-hand experience.

When he allowed her to lead her first attack on the Order, she can still recall Dumbledore's face when she duelled him. Can remember the victory that night, they gloated their success. For the first time, people looked at her more than a means. She still remembers Antonin acknowledging her, how she made friends, gained their respect.

When he sent them all away but her, summoned her to remain. A caress of the cheek, approval. Remembers being on her knees clutching his cloak, wanting his approval. Needing his approval, his emotionless gaze, was different. Craved his words, wanted to the acknowledgement for her work. How she made him proud.

"You are my greatest creation." He whispered the words, a play of a smile on his lips.

"His most loyal lieutenant, even now in this godforsaken world, I do this for him. Because he gave me what no one else could, freedom." Bella continues, she never mentions the negative. Because they were just fears born from the trial. She is his greatest soldier, his most trusted warrior. The Dark Lord himself trained her, that is why she is formidable.

She expects respect from Granger understanding, she doesn't expect the sad look quickly hidden behind an indifferent mask. A small nod as Granger turns back to her book content to let the story end.

Greatest Creation… She chose to follow her Lord, which was her choice. To escape her family, it was only after that meeting did, she go looking for answers. Speaking to her father to realise he had gone to school with her lord. That her lord had met her when she was three years old. Had organised for her to gain teachings early, the one to organise her uncle to train her. That even when she decided to follow her Lord, it had already been pre-planned. Her father had gifted her to the dark lord at first as s wife, the idea rejected by the Dark Lord then as a soldier. A debt repaid.

She never chose the first place.

Even now, it stirs something, that's why she went looking for trouble, how she came to cross paths with Alice. How it all started from that moment on.

Now though, here inside these trials with her plucky little mudblood, she doesn't want to go back. Doesn't want to return to the world because she no longer sees her place in it. She was never the same since Azkaban, it took things from her that should never replace. Even now, her leg aches, her muscles deteriorated in Azkaban. Made her weak after duels.

With a twinge, she stretches her right leg, hoping to move the pain in her calf. Flinches as warm hands encase her leg. Soft hands, which massage a thumb that digs a palm easing the tension. Granger resting the outstretched leg on her lap, book sitting on the sunbed, still reading. She absently massages the leg.

A strange habit they have fallen into, Granger noticing the pain after a duel, offering to help. This isn't their first time, nor their third she's lost count of how often Granger will ease the pain in her calf. How have they come to this? Those hands working their magic. I don't want to go back.

Pain.

The memory slips away, bringing the harsh reality back to her conscious mind. She tries to grip on to the memory. Their time on the beach.

Cold eyes glare down at her, she splutters to life. Coughing, gasping, the pain encompasses everything. Rod's face is staring down at her with a cruel smile, his mouth moving. She fades in out, holding on to the memory for as long as possible.

"Bella." The voice brings her back.

Back to the world around her, she tries to ground herself, aware that Rod is dragging her to her knees. Holding her by robes. Her head is ringing, slowly she pieces the last few moments back together. Acutely aware of the dagger jammed into her side.

She was looking for Granger. Searching aimlessly for her, fear, unlike anything she had felt before it had left her paralysed. That creature had stalked them. Had nearly killed Bella before Granger turned into her werewolf form. Locals had dragged her to safety leaving Granger alone in the forest with that thing. She had broken free from the locals going in search of Granger. Had followed the blood through the trees.

Found the body of the creature mangled. Dead. No sign of Granger, but she recognised the fur on the creatures' claws. The blood dripping. How many nights had she searched for Granger, screaming her throat raw? She never noticed them coming until they were attacking. Duelling. Her Lord and his follows. Too focussed on Granger she missed signs of their arrival. Rod walked her around the back of the head with a rock.

It's the warmth that's trickling down her neck, blood. Hers even now, he couldn't take her in a fair fight. Her knife sticking out of her side. She had passed out. Clinging to the memory, a happier time. Even now, when they talk amongst themselves. As she kneels beaten before her lord, she focuses on the memories. Their duelling together, Granger's quick grasp of magic. Their fights that usually ended with stupid threats, the night Granger went flat faced down some stairs. The day Bella fell into a bog, came out screeching like a banshee.

"My Bella," Her Lord approaches.

The hand tightens on her robe, Rod jealous of the term, but never one to stand up to their Lord. Too scared maybe? Fearful, he could never take their Lord in a fight.

"Where is the mudblood?" His voice is cold as he stands over her.

She wants to answer, she doesn't know. Because she doesn't, she could be dead for all Bella knows. They were separated, they went different ways. Will she ever see Granger again? Except her mouth isn't working she's struggling to formulate any words. Her ears are ringing.

"Restrain," Her Lord is hissing to Rod. "Not render her useless."

"Apologies my Lord," Rod replies, but there is no remorse in his words. "She was feisty."

"I want the mudblood Bellatrix," Her Lord is demanding her to answer. "Where is she?"

"Dead…" Bella splutters, she's not sure if it's dribble or blood dripping from her lip. "I think."

"You think I will fall for such tricks?" He hisses, his wand dangerously close it glides beneath her chin.

"I couldn't…" She stumbles over her words. She was too late. "Save her. Too late."

"Are you crying?" Rod questions.

She is, she's not sure what her body is doing right now. It feels ten times heavier; her vision is doubling. She wants to curl up, give up, she's done now.

"You care for her?" Her Lord is asking, a single-digit wiping away an errant tear. "A mudblood?"

The crucio steals a sharp cry from her lips she hits the ground with a smack. Her body convulses under the curse. Her vision splits. Her head pounding, she can taste iron.

"It's Coca Cola."

"What?" Bella demands holding the fizzy object.

"Just drink it."

"Ugh, it's pure sugar." Bella hisses wiping her mouth.

"You said to get something that gets our energy going."

Neither of them mentions how Bella drains the drink regardless. It was that night that they had to share a sleeping bag due to the cold. She ignored how it felt to have Granger pressed up against her. Or how it felt to have the witch wrapped around her in the morning.

"Bellatrix." No tenderness this time, as she's dragged to her knees once more. Her Lord's hand is holding her chin, tight. Enough to bruise.

"You know, it wasn't him, right?" Granger's voice broke the nights' air.

"What are you on about now?" Bella demands frustrated already from being unable to get comfy.

"The reason you're the best, his best. The reason you are such a good duellist. It's because of you. Not him. You don't owe anyone anything. You got your scores, you trained tirelessly, you don't owe anyone anything."

"Go to sleep mudblood, you don't know what you speak of."

"Bellatrix. Tell me now."

She hadn't been paying attention. All she knows is that everyone is looking at her, no not her. Her lord, his fallen Lieutenant. His greatest creation. It makes her laugh, a cackle breaking from her lips, blood hits his robes he recoils.

"Tell me," Bella breathes meeting her Lord's gaze. "Am I still your greatest creation?"

Disgust mixes with anger, knuckles flex around his wand.

"That's what I thought," Bella comments with a laugh.

"Kill her." He orders.

"My Lord?" Rod questions fear lacing his words. Fear of losing his favourite toy.

"She is of no use to me. Kill her."

"My Lord you said."

"Enough," He snaps. "Step aside, I will end this madness."

It's only now she spots Antonin, watching torn between running at her Lord or running in front of the spell. She smiles. It's okay. She's done anyway.

"Avada Kedava!"

Is this what you wanted?

A/n: I make no promises.