Masquerade Act Three: The Veneer of Thalia and Melpomene
The Thirty First Dance: A Glimpse of the Shadows to Come
What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams. -Pedro De La Barca
Hermione awoke to the sounds of chaos reverberating throughout her head like gongs, jolting her awake. She was disoriented when she first came to, noting blearily that she was hugging a pillow and lying in a bed that wasn't her own.
The fuck-? She sat up, her head spinning as she did so, and her thoughts running sluggishly. It felt like she was drunk. Was she drunk? How had she gotten drunk? Where was she? All she could remember from last night was the flash of lights, the tremble of bass, and drinks that were too sweet and that burned their way down her throat.
She gazed around her surroundings but it was still too dark to discern where she was. All she knew was she was in a bed somewhere, a bed that wasn't hers. Ginny's perhaps? She recalled seeing the red head somewhere on the dance floor, pulling on her hands and twirling her around.
A loud crash from below brought her out of her ruminations and she took to patting the bed around her, looking for her wand. "Shit," she cursed out loud when she could find no thing that matched a wand's description. Where the bloody hell had she put it? Had she even brought it with her? Another crash alerted her to the urgency of the issue at hand. So she leapt out of bed, probably not a smart choice in her state as she had to momentarily pause to righten herself, and then grabbing a heavy tome in her hands as a weapon, she cautiously made her way downstairs.
"What were you going to do with it? Where you planning on escaping? On using your illy gained wand to slaughter us all?" Screamed out a hoarse voice, and Hermione suddenly felt a cold sweat break out on her back. What was going on? Was there some intruder in the house? She felt inadequately prepared, the book sure to do no harm.
Flashbacks to the war ran in her mind and her breath got more ragged as she slowly and cautiously peered around the stair banister.
"I wasn't going to do any of that! I swear it!" came a woman's cry, turning into a hiss of pain as her arm was twisted painfully behind her back.
"I don't trust a lying word from your snaked tongue!" spat the same man and Hermione heard an all familiar voice reprimand him.
"Shivers, that's enough. Hurting her more won't get an answer out of her."
The woman in question was lying in the midst of the living room, the space around her a mess, drawers and shelves on the floor, the ceiling covered in soot, and burn marks on the floor where spells had hit. She was surrounded on all sides by aurors, making it hard to see her visage, but as Hermione's still drunk mind slowly pieced things together, the book from her hand dropped. It hit the floor heavily, drawing the attention of all the men present there.
She knew where she was, but she didn't know how she got here. But that was the least of her concerns right now. "Harry, what's going on here?" Why was her friend here? He looked like he had been called in last minute, his hair disheveled and glasses askew.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, turning a wide eyed gaze on her, his cheeks coloring a bit. "And are you wearing a bathrobe?"
Hermione took this moment to look at her state of dress, or rather undress. The black bathrobe had slipped down the shoulders, showing off large amounts of her chest and her bra. Hastily she fixed it as best as she could, ignoring the red flush in her cheeks and trying to appear in control of the situation. Even with it wrapped up closely, the article of clothing only went down to mid thigh, not exactly covering much.
"What I was doing here is not important as of this moment-what I want to know is why she's on the ground, being brutally handled!" Hermione strode as steadily as she could into the midst of the room, wincing as she didn't see some sharp pieces of wood and stepped on them. She would have to pluck the splinters out later.
"She confiscated your wand, Miss Granger," answered one of the aurors. Pottlo, as Hermione's brain supplied her after a moment's deliberation. He looked to be uncomfortable in addressing her-was it the clothes, or some other reason? "And was going about with the intent to hurt-"
"I was not!" Came Bellatrix's indignant cry from below. "Tell these buffoons that I wasn't trying to!" Several aurors moved aside so Hermione could see the older witch was lying on the floor, immobile, hands pinned to her back, twisted almost unnaturally, and blood streaming from her nose where it had pooled below her face and congealed. She looked to be in a lot of pain, straining her head up to look at Hermione. She was trying to convey something wordlessly to the younger girl, but Hermione didn't know if she could trust those words.
Bellatrix had gotten a hold of Hermione's wand? How? And she had been trying to escape? Hermione rubbed her forehead, feeling an immense headache starting up between her eyes, in rhythm with the sharp sting of betrayal in her heart. What had happened to trying? To having trust in each other?
Apparently that had all been for show.
"Hermione, we, we thought she had done something to you," Harry breathed out, rushing to explain. "She got a hold of your wand, the aurors told me you had come in incoherent and stumbling into the house late at night and feared she had poisoned you somehow as a form of blackmail to get her freedom. And then she attacked the aurors-and I was called in to stop her!"
Hermione ran her hands over face, too tired and drunk to deal with this. What a bloody mess. Fuck, why did I have to be so dumb? What was I even doing here, and in Bellatrix's bed of all places? Why does that happen every time I get drunk?
Last time she had been drunk, she had found herself in Bellatrix's bed, fearing the worst- that they had slept together. And now this time...had something like that happened? Or was Hermione only being paranoid about it? But she wasn't wearing her clothes, just Bellatrix's robes, for who else wore as much fucking black as her.
So did that mean anything...would Bellatrix take advantage of Hermione when she was in such a state...no, she wouldn't. Such actions did not seem to be even on her list of terrible things to do to someone else. How had Hermione's clothes been replaced then? Had she dirtied them and the older witch given her a change of clothes? Anything was possible if one didn't remember. She knew Bellatrix would, but she couldn't bloody say it out right to her right now, in front of all these ministry aurors and Harry!
So they hadn't slept together. That was reassuring. But then why didn't Hermione feel as reassured as she should be? Did she...was there a small spark in her that hoped something had happened? That they maybe would have at least gotten to touch each other? Hermione loved the sensation of feeling those tingles whenever she interacted with Bellatrix at the same time she feared them and their meaning.
Fuck, I so wanted something to happen, Hermione groaned to herself, loathe to admit this, and sank to her haunches on the floor, still not uncovering her face. How shameful. And it was for someone who was Hermione's ex-enemy. For someone who was older than her.
No, this can't be right. I must be all jumbled up and confused because of the alcohol. I don't think that of her. She and I have a strictly professional relationship.
"Hermione!" Harry called out in concern and rushed to her side. He held her gently. "Are you okay. Tell us, what did she do? What can we do to cure you?"
Hermione could feel the weight of the stares of the other five aurors in the house and she knew she had to say something. But what? She couldn't come up with any good excuses right now. But she couldn't let them continue thinking their ill convinced notions. "Everyone, I'm fine," Hermione insisted in a dead voice as Harry quickly instructed the nearest standing by auror to get her a chair and water. She let herself be guided into the chair and took the water gratefully, feeling bad about sitting in a chair when Bellatrix was in pain on the floor.
"You should let her sit as well. She's not a threat."
"We can't until we find out what she has done with you," barked out the man who was Shivers. Hermione instantly disliked him, because he had been the one hurting Bellatrix so much.
"She didn't do anything. I'm just..." Hermione sighed heavily at this as everyone leaned in to hear what she had to say, two aurors not turning their backs on Bellatrix as they held her at wand point, but their ears still peaked in interest.
This is going to be so embarrassing. My image as golden girl is forever ruined. But she had to do it. Like ripping off a band aid. "Just, piss faced drunk," came out quieter than she expected it too, and with a shaky laugh at the end as she took a sip of water because she didn't know what else to do while she waited for the barrage of responses.
Harry was, bless his heart, obtuse, and apparently deaf as of right now. "What?" he blurted out and Hermione winced at having to repeat herself. It certainly did not get easier a second time.
"I said I was drunk."
The aurors exchanged confused looks with one another as Harry let out a disbelieving chuckle. "What?"
"Harry, I bloody swear if you say what one more time-!" Hermione threatened, entirely not in the mood for this.
"No, it's just that..." at this he cleared his throat and looked at Hermione's clothes then at Bellatrix on the floor. He wasn't being subtle at all. "What were you doing here, drunk?" He asked, going for that instead of the obvious question on his mind. Hermione was eternally grateful that he had some tactic and wouldn't ask her about his suspicions in front of ministry workers.
"I, in my drunk state thought it impertinent to check up on the welfare of my patient," Hermione fibbed on the spot, this the best she could come up with. "And since I had unfortunately spilled some liquid on my clothing, I was letting them dry manually since I didn't see fit to use magic, and uh, borrowed these robes."
"So then how did she get your wand?" Shivers interrogated and Hermione wanted to yell at him to go home. She was really in no state for such hard questions. "Why didn't you arrive to alleviate the scene earlier, if you were here the whole time?"
"I slipped up. I made, regrettably, a mistake, and this gave her an opportunity to get her hands on my wand. And I became knocked out-"
"She was trying to do you harm!" Shiver's spat out and lashed his wand out in Bellatrix's direction. There was a muffled scream of pain and Hermione shot to her feet, feeling sick. "Stop that!"
"She only meant you harm, so she deserves this. It's a little punishment-"
"I'm the only one who is authorized to make decisions like that. And I never gave anyone permission here to use lethal force, or force beyond the means. This is unnecessary torment!"
"I don't know if your opinion should be valued right now. You haven't exactly shown sound judgment as of this instance," he eyed her distastefully, but withdrew his wand.
Hermione felt the need to retort, to fling a curse or hex at his head, burning in her veins. But Harry put a stop to this confrontation before anything could escalate. "Shivers, that's enough. As your superior I order you to stand down and go home. Same goes for the rest of you."
The aurors looked at each other in shock. "What?" Pottlo said. "You're asking us to leave our posts?"
"Yes. Leave this situation in mine and Hermione's capable hands." He gave them all a hard look that brokered no more discussion and they all slowly left out the door, Shiver's snorting in disgust under his breath. Only when they were gone did Harry turn to Hermione. "Can she be trusted?" he asked, handing over Hermione's slim vine wood wand to her.
The brunette held it in her hand, letting her fingers run over it. Bellatrix had taken Hermione's defenseless state and tried to take advantage of it and run away. She looked down at the dark witch, her lips thinned disapprovingly.
"I swear, I wasn't up to no good. Although it'd be the bloody end of the world once anyone took my word at face value," Bellatrix huffed from her spot on the floor.
"Then what were you doing?" Hermione asked, because she had no recollection of the past few hours she must have spent in this house, in Bellatrix's company.
"Maybe if you let me up, I could tell you."
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, Hermione nodding her head after their wordless deliberation. Harry sighed and undid the spells. Bellatrix rolled over onto her back with a sigh, easing her arms free of their stiff position. She rubbed one experimentally and winced in pain. "I think he dislocated my arm," she grumbled out, coming to her feet and cradling her hurt arm.
"Do you need-" Hermione made a step forward and Bellatrix took a step back, bristling. "Don't touch me, you've already done enough of that tonight."
At this Hermione colored rather impressively. Her mouth opened up in shock. "What are you talking about?!"
Bellatrix grinned mischievously, relaxing in the face of Hermione's discomfort. "Wouldn't you like to remember," she teased.
Hermione could feel Harry's questioning gaze on her, and suddenly found she was really interested in staring at this spot on the wall right in front of her. So I did end up doing something. But what? Was I the one who threw myself at her? Was that why she took the wand? Did she feel in danger of me?
Ha, she was scared of me, a small part of Hermione found that funny, but nothing else about this situation could be called that. What did I do to her? I don't recall having such a motive. I just know I had to come tell her something. Something that would help me win an argument with her. But what argument? Was it the one about her sharing her feelings? Hermione wanted to pull on her hair ends in frustration.
"Hermione- just what exactly happened?"
Hermione sighed and ran her hands through her tangled hair. "Honestly, I don't remember. All I know is that Ginny took me out for a girls night out, to forget Ron, and next thing I know, is I wake up here in this house, coming down to see this scene before me," she gestured wildly to the ruined room around them.
Harry swallowed heavily. He gazed at Bellatrix, who was slumped against the wall, her eyes glowing in mirth. "So only she knows."
"Yes," Hermione affirmed sadly.
"And I don't suppose she'll tell us," Harry murmured.
"No, I don't suppose I will." Bellatrix jerked her chin up. "And oh, what suffering it will bring you, not giving your little peanut sized brain any rest as you run through multiple scenarios, unsure as to which one is the real one. The horror." Bellatrix widened her eyes dramatically at this.
Harry scratched his hair, shaking his head. "It's too early in the morning to deal with this. How about I come back in let's say," he looked at his wrist, "five hours time. In the mean time we can keep her detained in her room while you recover."
Bellatrix didn't look happy at this, at being confined to only the area of her room. "Locking me up?"
"Yes," Hermione snapped back, not caring if the other's emotions got hurt now, after all she had tried to do. Hermione couldn't get over her hurt at Bellatrix wanting to leave. She thought they had gotten somewhere, that they were past that point. "Because you can't be trusted."
At this, Bellatrix's features got darker. But she didn't say more.
"I'll fix her up and set up the charms," Harry offered. "Why don't you...just head home."
Hermione nodded her head, happy to be heading to bed. This night had been too long. She separated from Harry and Bellatrix without another word and apparated outside the boundaries of the house. As soon as she got to her apartment, she collapsed onto her bed.
She woke up several hours later, finding it to be two in the afternoon. Her stomach was tight, her arms ached, and her head throbbed, her eyes prickling with dryness. Her mouth felt the worst, tasting as if she had been drinking polyjuice potion.
She got up out of bed, her body protesting at her actions, all the events of last night catching up to her. She wasn't drunk anymore but it didn't take away her shame at having gotten this drunk. And in front of all those people. And in such a-Hermione paused her thoughts there. She didn't want to think about this anymore. It would only make her feel more terrible. Something she didn't want to acknowledge right now. Not when she had so many questions about what the hell she had been doing in Bellatrix's room.
She had to go see the witch. Go talk to her before anyone else did. Before Harry could question Hermione on things she had no recollection of. The brunette got out of bed, standing in front of the mirror and trying to determine how much of a mess she had to fix before she was presentable. Her eyes fell on the robe around her shoulders. It was black and made of silk and undeniably Bellatrix's. Lifting up the sleeve of it to her nose, she was happy to see it smelled of the other. Like cinnamon and pine needles. Had Bellatrix given this to her? Or had Hermione simply taken it from her? The younger girl desperately wished that she could recall anything of that night.
Bellatrix had said Hermione had been too touchy. Was that true? And if so, what had she touched? Hermione closed her eyes and tried to rid her head of unwanted images of her hands wandering to places on Bellatrix's body where her hands shouldn't be.
Then she opened her eyes and shrugged out of the robe, deciding she would wash it and give it to the other later. There was a knock on the window and she saw that a owl was waiting outside for her. She let the bird in and collected the note it was carrying. She undid the wrappings and saw Ginny's hasty handwriting on it.
Hermione,
I'm so, so, sorry for last night! I can't forgive myself for letting you get that drunk! Harry told me about what happened and...
The note went on in the same vein and Hermione couldn't help but shake her head a bit in amusement. She could sense Ginny's distress through the paper. She wasn't mad at the red head. Hermione should have been more responsible when she was drinking. She was an adult after all. But what did catch her concern was Ginny mentioning Hermione being upset at her. Why had Hermione been upset at the red head again? She couldn't recall too much of that. Ugh, looked like another part of the night she wouldn't be getting back. Did she dare to find out what new stupidity she had conducted?
She would respond to the letter later, right now she had to get ready.
Hermione arrived at the prison house ten minutes later, after she had gotten her hair under order and had some coffee. She couldn't stomach anything else, even though she had taken the hangover potion. The potion could only do so much, and it was already helping her feel less gross.
She found the house still devoid of any aurors, as they had not come back from Harry's dismissal earlier in the night. That meant that Hermione had some time with the witch by herself before Harry arrived and they had their talk.
But would she be able to face Bellatrix? Hermione's hands felt sweaty and her heart beat in her chest. She was afraid of what she would find out she did last night. Had she ruined things with the other witch? Or was she merely overextending her imagination?
She wouldn't know until she went in. Holding her wand pressed up in her sleeve, she opened the door to the room, safely bypassing all the charms Harry had put on it. The charms were only meant to work on Bellatrix. The dark witch was sitting by the window, still in her nightgown from last night, one that had a low neck line and showed off her pale skin. She looked to be fine now, all her blood wiped away, arm fixed, but was deep in thought. She hadn't heard Hermione come in, or so the brunette assumed. She opened her mouth to call the dark witch's name when Bellatrix spoke up.
"Nice of you to drop by."
"No need to be so bitter," Hermione said, fidgeting with her hands. "I know I messed up last night, and I wanted to amend things with you."
"Yes, that would be something great. The golden girl of all people, bowing down to me and begging for my forgiveness." Now she turned her eyes to Hermione and the brunette blushed, unable to maintain eye contact under such a direct look.
"Bellatrix-"
"Don't apologize to me. I don't want to hear it."
"Huh?" eloquently left Hermione's mouth. "You're not mad?"
"Everyone has moments they're not exactly proud of. And I figured I would tease you for the rest of your life about you coming drunk to my room. But then last night," at this she let out a gleeful chuckle. "Last night was too rich! You had to tell all the aurors you were drunk! Bloody hell, that was a riot. I would have burst out loud into laughter if I hadn't been pinned to the floor." Bellatrix's voice was rife with laughter and Hermione felt it infecting her. Suddenly she didn't feel as bad about last night. If Bellatrix was taking it this lightly then she couldn't have done anything bad last night. Otherwise the witch would be a screaming banshee.
But she still did want to know what had happened. "If you don't mind me asking, what did I do last night? I can't recall anything. And it's so bloody annoying."
Bellatrix stopped laughing at this and got up, not yet moving from her position. "You came to my room absolutely plastered and began spouting inane nonsense." There was a beat of silence.
"That's it?" Hermione ventured to ask cautiously. Had she really only done that? But why come to Bellatrix and not Harry or Ginny?
"No, there was more." Bellatrix's words brought a sense of dread into the pit of Hermione's stomach. Bellatrix slowly walked up towards her, only increasing Hermione's unease. "You told me it had to do something with touch." And then Bellatrix grasped one of Hermione's hands in her own. Hermione could feel those tingles that she so dreaded but so loved at the same time. "That you felt these tingles."
Oh Merlin, did I really tell her that? That was something that Hermione had never had any intention of telling anyone about, especially not the person she felt it with. She feared to think how the witch had taken this.
"No, it's not. I mean-uh, it's like-" Hermione stumbled over her words, unable to meet the other's gaze, looking down at the floor to her left foot. Why did Bellatrix have to be so close by? Hermione needed some space. She needed some air. She was too aware of the sensation of the other's body being so close to her. Her face was turning red like a tomato.
She tried to pull away but Bellatrix's hold on her hand was strong and she held her there. "Don't try to deny what you said to me before. I'm not going to be nasty to you about it."
"O-h, you're not?" Hermione carefully turned her eyes to Bellatrix's pale face. Was the woman joking? Was Hermione still drunk and hallucinating all this, because the other being not nasty when she had a chance to be, almost seemed to be something made up. Yet, the woman looked perfectly sincere.
"No. Because I think it has something to do with the soul spell."
"Does that mean...?" Hermione let the other half of the question hang in the air, hopeful. Does this mean what I think it means?
"Yes, it looks like you do get your bloody wish and we will be going over that damn soul spell," Bellatrix gave a crooked grin, earning a small smile from Hermione.
Bellatrix had had some time to think about what Hermione said about the tingles. Bellatrix felt them too, so it was obviously a two way connection. And the sensations had only grown stronger in time, along with the increasing need and desire for Hermione's company. Bellatrix didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. She had only experienced a similar experience like this once before in her life and there was no way she could be feeling that same way about one of the golden trio. So, she would chalk it up to the soul spell. It had to be the soul spells fault. It had many undiscovered and undocumented affects on its users, was the convenient lie she used.
But if it isn't? A voice in her head asked and she swallowed heavily.
Either it was the soul spell, or it was lo...no, Bellatrix would not say the L word. She wouldn't dare.
"I'm glad you've decided it would be appropriate to pursue enlightenment on the soul spell."
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Bellatrix let go of Hermione's hand and sat back down in her armchair.
Hermione was already planning it all out. "I can go get the books right away, and then we can-" Hermione cut off her own excited rambling and stopped in her pacing. "Wait, before I do that, I need to ask you something."
"Of course you do," Bellatrix mumbled but with no real annoyance behind her words.
Hermione dreaded to ask this, but she had to know. She needed to know, no matter how the painful the answer might be, what Bellatrix had intended to do with Hermione's wand. "Bellatrix, when you stole my wand-"
"Can we stop with that already?" Bellatrix snapped off irritably. "I told you I had no ill intentions with it!"
"Then why did you take it in the first place if that was the case?" Hermione shot back, feeling a tad angry now. "You say I'm not the trust worthy one, but then you go and do something like this. Something that could very well jeopardize everything I've done for you. Ruin all the progress you've made."
"Because, because," at this it looked like it almost pained Bellatrix to speak but she did so, through gritted teeth. "You were drunk and I figured you would be hungry when you woke, so I...was going to make breakfast for you. And maybe oblivate a few auror memories." This was said so quietly and quickly that Hermione almost didn't pick up on it.
"Breakfast?" she whispered. The dark witch was actually going to take care of her and magic her some food. It was almost unbelievable. It had to be fake. But no, the way Bellatrix's shoulders were hunched up and her arms were crossed almost violently across her chest in discomfort made it seem like the truth.
"Yes, breakfast. It's not a big deal okay?" She shrugged violently and suddenly found looking out the window to be very important.
Hermione was in so much shock that she almost forget what came at the end of the statement. "You were going to go around oblivating people?!"
"To erase their memories of you coming home drunk. To avoid scandal and embarrassment. But then it turned out there was a stupid bloody charm on me, that alerted all the aurors to my using magic, and it all went to shit."
Hermione felt a warmth in her chest, tinged with guilt, that was almost impossible to repress. Bellatrix had been trying to be thoughtful, had tried to protect Hermione from her mistake, and how had Hermione thanked her for her efforts? By being suspicious of her, and thinking the worst of her actions. "Bellatrix, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"
"I said I don't want to hear any apologizes from you. It's always easiest for people to think the worst of me, so I'm used to it."
"That's not okay-"
"Hermione," Bellatrix turned her attention back to the inside of the room but still wouldn't look at the brunette as she gave a wry smile. "This isn't the afterlife where our pasts didn't haunt us, sticking to us like a second skin. This is the real world and everything has a consequence."
Hermione was quiet as she bitterly took this in.
"And speaking of consequences," Bellatrix hummed and looked back out the window. "Potty boy is here."
Hermione wanted to let out a long curse. She had been hoping she would have more time to come up with a reasonable explanation for what had occurred last night, but it seemed it was show time. It was imperative to face the music. With a long sigh, she went to go meet Harry.
"Good morning," he greeted as he stepped into the house, Hermione meeting him at the front door. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she coughed out as she lead him into the dining room to sit at the table. They sat awkwardly in front of each other for a while, Hermione fiddling with the wand up her sleeve and Harry, taking off his glasses and cleaning them even though they were clean.
Hermione decided she should go first just to get this over with. "Uh, look. I know you have a lot of questions on what happened here last night-"
"I was really upset at Ginny, you know. She shouldn't have let you wander off!" Harry cut in.
"She didn't mean any harm by her actions. All she wanted to do was take me out for a nice evening and it was because of my lack of control that I-"
"Ginny still should have-"
"Let's not pin the blame okay? I was simply irresponsible and that is that." Hermione said this sternly, daring Harry to defy her request.
"Fine. I'll try not to be mad at Ginny then," he conceded, still looking like he wasn't done on this topic.
"Good."
"So then what were you doing here last night, and wearing her robes nonetheless?" Harry didn't bother to even smoothly transition the topic. He wanted answers. And if Hermione had been in his position, she would have been impatient for answers especially if it had to deal with a close friend.
Hermione sighed, and rubbed a hand over her face. "I simply was drunk, and I guess because I'm so used to checking up on her, that I came here when I was drunk on a whim. And like I said, I had something spilled on me, so she gave me her clothes because I couldn't magic any, and neither could she, so that was the best option."
"She gave her clothes to a muggleborn?" Harry said with a touch of disbelief in his voice.
Hermione had forgotten all about Bellatrix's hatred of muggleborns. She didn't know why she had, when it had been such a huge part of the dark witch's personality. Now that Harry mentioned it, Bellatrix had just casually given pureblood clothes to a muggleborn, that which she swore to hate with a passion burning brighter than the sun. A smile spread on Hermione's face as she realized the magnitude of such an action. "This is just proof that she's getting better. The old her would never do something like that."
Hermione's excited chatter was cut off by Harry's more pessimistic view. "Then what was she doing with your wand?" If he thought this would throw Hermione off, he was wrong.
"I know this is going to sound insane, Harry, but...it's the truth. She wanted to use the wand to make me food and help me in my drunken state."
"That does sound insane," Harry said. "I wouldn't think of her as wanting to take care of someone else." Harry shook his head in shock. "Are you sure she's not just pulling your leg?"
"No. I've known her for long enough now that I can tell. She was admitting the truth to me. Everyone just jumped to the wrong conclusion because of who she was."
Harry leaned back in his seat, digesting all this. Hermione was worried. Was he still not convinced? But he smiled at Hermione at the end although it looked like it was going against his better judgment to do so. "Progress. That's good. I'm glad your reform program is working."
"As so am I."
"Wait until the ministry hears about this, they'll be more than pleased to back your project fully. They'll have no choice but to do so." Harry knew the struggles and opposition that Hermione faced for her forward minded project. Many ministry workers thought it total bullocks, that it was a fool's errand. But Hermione wouldn't let their sour words deter her. As long as she had her friends support, along with McGonagall's and Kingsley's, she was motivated.
"That reminds me, have they, uh, well-" Hermione suddenly felt queasy having to ask this. Oh dear Merlin, what if the whole ministry knows? Then I'll lose all my reputation for my project and then it'll be even harder to get anything done.
Harry smiled comfortingly at Hermione's discomfort on asking him. "Word hasn't gone around. Don't worry. I had a strict talking to with all the aurors here who were present and had that little drunken adventure of yours included in the secrecy clause. So they won't be talking any time soon."
"Oh thank Merlin." Hermione would have sagged down into a chair in relief if she wasn't already sitting. "And thank you, Harry."
"I do what I can for my friends," he patted her hand gently. "Now, how about we get the rest of the aurors here on the same page, so that you can continue your work."
It took a week's time for everything to be settled normally. Hermione had to report the incident to McGonagall unfortunately because as her supervisor, she needed to know how Hermione was doing. To say the headmistress was shocked at what had transpired was correct.
Hermione had decided to tell her this in person, figuring she could explain her actions more concisely. And also because she deserved the guilt and embarrassment for letting things get so out of hand.
Upon conclusion of the story, the headmistress had said, "I don't know whether to be more shocked at your inebriated behavior, or Bellatrix's sober ones."
The fact that the witch had wanted to take care of Hermione had been a shocking one, one that McGonagall had a tough time wrapping her head around, but was desperately trying to do so for her favorite student.
After that talk, in which McGonagall had assured Hermione she did not think less of her after what happened, rationalizing that Hermione must have been bereaved due to her loss of relation with Ron and thus done this, Hermione had set to work with Bellatrix on finding a reversal spell to the soul spell.
It wasn't easy work. Bellatrix knew how to cast it, but undoing it was something she had no clue as to how to conduct. So they scoured countless dense texts that rambled on about nothing of use to them. And the small tidbits they did find, was stuff they already knew.
"These books are complete, utter, rubbish!" Bellatrix had flung the thick tome off of the table top, where it crashed onto the floor loudly. The loud noise startled Hermione and she shot Bellatrix a nasty glare. "There is no need for this childish behavior of yours."
"Oh, there is all the need," Bellatrix started out of her chair, taking to pacing the length of the room. Hermione already missed the other's presence, wishing she was close by, something that was becoming a recurring feeling to her more and more often. It was ridiculous, but it almost seemed as if the more time she spent with Bellatrix, the more she wanted to be with her. Her body seemed to gravitate to the other like she was a black hole, Hermione being sucked appressed against her will. More than once she had caught herself sliding her arm closer just so it could press against the other's arm, or letting their knees knock together under the table.
Even in the confines of her own apartment she wasn't safe, thoughts of the other consuming her. If she wasn't wondering what Bellatrix was doing in the house, then she was wondering how she was feeling. It was all beginning to worry Hermione. This soul spell was making her feel things that were forbidden, want to do things that were even more scandalous, and she fought bravely to keep those darker thoughts at bay.
Bellatrix too wasn't immune to the spell. She didn't need to say anything for Hermione to know she felt things; it was visible in the way that she react. She'd jump away from Hermione's touches as if they were poisonous. Something that Hermione found funny at first, since Bellatrix had initially been the one to tease Hermione and the brunette had to move away from the older woman's touches, but now it was the opposite.
Yet Hermione knew that Bellatrix didn't want to back away from the touch; still her family's teachings were ingrained in her and the raven haired witch wasn't comfortable with accepting the touches unless she was the one instigating them.
And it was this fact that she was losing control over her emotions that was pissing her off. Two weeks of studying and they were nowhere. "Where did you even get such rubbish books?" Bellatrix demanded, huffing angrily.
"From books stores."
"Well then those books stores should be burned down for selling something so worthless!" Bellatrix threw her hands up. "What we need is books from the house of Black. We have a huge collection on any topic of magic. And I know that book I learned the spell from must still be there."
"Well, I can't happen to access those and neither can you," Hermione pointed out a touch irritably, Bellatrix's pacing getting under her skin.
"Yes, you can access them. The Malfoy manor also holds copies of those books. Narcissa just has to let you in."
Hermione frowned at this. "I highly doubt Narcissa is just going to allow me to casually stride into the house and pick up the books."
"She will. If I give you a note." At this Bellatrix hurriedly snatched up a quill and parchment and after scribbling some things down, she rolled it up and handed it over to Hermione. "Here, take this and give it to her. She'll have to give you the books."
Hermione took the scroll that was shoved into her face. "I don't know..." she trailed off.
"The insufferable know it all, doesn't know something?" Bellatrix mocked in good nature. She planted her hands on her hips. "Just go already. The sooner you get it, the sooner we can crack this spell."
Hermione didn't like this dismissal of her as if she was a servant. "But what books-"
"Cissa will know. Just show the letter to her," Bellatrix rushed out. She was bouncing her foot up and down in impatience. Hermione figured there was no more point in asking the older woman for more details because she would be too wired to answer properly. So, Hermione left to Malfoy manor.
Apparating before the front gate, she nodded respectfully to the aurors standing guard there. "I'm here to see Miss Malfoy here on the business of the ministry," Hermione said, taking away their chance to question her.
They motioned her to enter and Hermione pushed the gate aside, striding down the weed choked cobblestone path. The mansion, once so grand and spectacular, had now fallen into a state of disrepair, one that matched the depressed situation of it's occupants. Hermione felt a bit nervous. How would the woman react to seeing her? Just because Narcissa had saved Harry's life didn't mean that she disliked mudbloods any less. Would she turn Hermione away? Would Draco perchance be in the mansion? Having to face one Malfoy was enough on it's own.
The door had a heavy snake headed knocker that Hermione used to announce her arrival. A loud booming noise magically amplified, boomed throughout the whole locale. She waited outside patiently, wiping the sweat on her palms on her jeans. She knew Narcissa was on house arrest, so she had to be in the house. But would she open the door?
Counting to thirty under her breath, Hermione was about to knock again when the door slowly creaked open and in the light streaming from the outside, Narcissa stood. She looked like she had just woken up, her hair done in a bun and clutching her silken robe closer around her shoulders. "Miss Granger," she sniffed. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Civil as always, but cold. "Checking up on me? Making sure I haven't been up to mischievous affairs?"
"I'm actually here on business. On your sister's business. So I'll do my best to keep it brief." Hermione reached in pull the note out of her pocket and stepped into the house, Narcissa closing the door behind her. It was substantially darker in the house, all the curtains drawn over the windows.
Hermione handed the note over to Narcissa who took it tenderly, almost as if unnerved by it. "Which sister? Was it Dromeda? Bella?"
"It was Bellatrix," Hermione curtly replied. She didn't like being in this house, it made her skin prickle. There was a negative energy. Evil energy. For it had after all housed so much evil within its walls. The floors had run with blood, and the dungeons had been filled with the cries of the helpless.
"Ah, that's right. You are her new caretaker. Tell me, how is that going?"
"It's going splendidly. She's made leaps and bounds of progress."
Narcissa made a noise in the back of her throat that said she didn't quite believe this. She was eyeing Hermione in slight contempt. Hermione didn't like that. "But we're not here to discuss that, as you don't have the clearance for it." Hermione lifted up her chin authoritatively, speaking in a stern voice. She had no reason to feel small in front of this woman. Narcissa was nothing but a fallen lady from grace, trapped in her own house.
Narcissa arched a brow at Hermione's display. "I see you are now running errands for my sister." Hermione wanted badly to retort to that, but she held herself back. She still needed the woman's help. Narcissa clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she opened up the letter and scanned it quickly. "She wants a book? You would think that she would have the decency to at least ask how I am doing. We haven't spoken in months." Narcissa humphed haughtily and folded the letter back.
"I suppose I can give you the book. But a priceless Malfoy book, going to your hands..."
Narcissa trailed off, the implication in those words clear. Hermione clenched her hands. "I'll make sure that I take good care of it. You don't have to worry about that." Her voice came out harsher than she wanted it too.
Narcissa didn't seem convinced but she turned on her heel and walked down the hall. Hermione assumed she had to follow her and did so silently. The woman took her down many twisting corridors, so many that Hermione almost lost track of where she was going. But as they passed down one particular passageway, Hermione's steps began to slow down, her breathing becoming more shallow. The doorway to the room on her right stood out to her; she forgot temporarily that she was supposed to follow Narcissa.
With a shaking hand, she let her fingers trace over the rim of the wooden doorway as she paused in the entrance and stood there, taking the room in. It looked exactly the same way; the only difference was that there was no blood on the floors. It had been more than a year since she had last been here. She could still remember it all with a haunting clarity. Her laid out on her back, pinned by a frantic woman as wand turned flesh into a skin of pain that Hermione's skeleton unwillingly bore. The sneering faces of the other Death Eater's as they watched, enjoying her suffering. The echoes of her own screams burning her throat and piercing her ear drums.
Hermione expected to be flooded with a lot of emotions; mainly those of hate, and pain, and anger. But surprisingly...she felt calm. As if the torments had befallen a different person than her. Absently tracing the scar on her arm, she wondering if this disconnect was due to how she perceived Bella now. How she could barely think of the other as vile and uncivilized. But she wasn't stupid. She still knew Bellatrix was capable of great attacks of violence. Hermione just hoped she wouldn't do them. It was what the program was for.
A throat clearing brought her attentions back to Narcissa who had finally noticed Hermione's stalling. "Are you going to stand around and reminiscence about things you cannot change, or are you going to come get this book?" So that you can leave my house sooner, went unspoken and Hermione briefly closed her eyes to dispel the memories.
Five more minutes of walking found them in a huge library of sorts. Hermione had to crane her neck back in order to see some of the top shelves. The whole place looked to be in bad shape, with books crookedly placed on the shelves, with stacks on the floors, and rolls of parchment tossed and crumpled up on the tables and carpet, everything covered in a thick layer of dust.
Still, it was amazing to see the volume of how many books this place held. There were several rows of bookcases, stretching this way and that, sort of like a maze of knowledge. Hermione wouldn't mind getting lost here. "Wait here," Narcissa instructed as she disappeared somewhere behind a row of shelves. Hermione dawdled by the entrance, unable to stay still so long when all these interesting books called her name. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to look, she approached one of the bookcases that held the heaviest and oldest tomes. Some of the names were faded and it was hard to tell what the books were on.
Something moving in the corner of Hermione's eye made her turn her head around, thinking it was Narcissa. It wasn't. There, across the room, stood something or someone. It stood motionless and clad in long dark flowing robes, the face obscured by a giant hood that emitted shadows. Hermione wasn't sure what that was, but it sure as hell wasn't a dementor. There was no chill, no screams to accompany it's appearance.
Acting reflexively she dug out her wand. What was this thing doing here? Was it part of the security? Did it work for the ministry? The longer she continued to look at it, the more her curiosity grew. She found herself almost compelled to walk towards it, and did just that, wand held up, foot steps slow and purposeful. It didn't move in this whole time; not even it's robes. Licking her dry lips, she ventured, "What are you?"
"-doing?" Narcissa added on. Hermione startled and twisted her head to see that the blonde woman had reappeared, book in hand. Then recalling that the thing was still there, Hermione turned again to face it, but it was gone. Furrowing her brows, she put her wand back tentatively. Unease crawled up and down her spine. What the hell had that been?
"I saw something there. Or I thought I did. But...I was wrong." There was no point in asking Narcissa if she had seen it. The answer would be no.
Narcissa surely would have rolled her eyes if she were any less mannered. "Here," she held out the book. "I hope whatever it is you are doing with the soul spell, that you will be careful." At this she almost seemed genuinely worried for Hermione. "Breaking it...can do damage that is less favorable than death."
Well, that wasn't ominous at all. Hermione took the book, almost afraid of it and what it contained. It was small and plain looking, with a single crescent moon inscribed on the black cover in blue ink.
"By Merlin's sake, I hope you know what you are doing. Bella's my sister. And...despite all she's done, she is still family." Narcissa's voice was gentle now and Hermione nodded her head.
"I know what I'm doing," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "And breaking the soul spell is for the best for the both of us."
Because if I don't break it, there's no telling when I might act upon my growing attraction for your older sister. And that, is a disaster in the making.
A/N: The aftermath of drinking that much is never fun, Hermione.