Masquerade Act Four: The Hipil of World and Love

The Thirty Eighth Dance: Weighted Decisions

When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier. Roy E. Disney

A/N: This arc is shorter than the others- only six chapters as compared to twelve- because I don't have that much more content to go through.

Bellatrix had not heard anything from Hermione for four days straight. And plainly, she was worried nearly out of her mind. There was no visit from the brunette witch on their meeting days. There was no letter from her detailing how her St. Mungo's trip had went. Nothing. Not so much as a peep. And because of all that, Bellatrix couldn't sleep. The first day she had been worried about Hermione getting the proper care for her arm. But as the second day progressed and then the third, that worry only grew along with questions. Why did Hermione not try to get in contact with her? Had something happened? Or was Hermione simply too busy being wrapped up with her project on a renovated Azkhaban?

But it wasn't until the fourth day that Bellatrix began to feel caged with lack of knowledge. So she snuck around the house, eavesdropping on the aurors to see if they knew anything. She was without success until late in the evening when she overheard a chilling bit of news.

"Did you hear, the Granger girl is sick," said one roughly.

Bellatrix, who had been about to go upstairs and try to sleep through the concern keeping her up, paused on the first step, hand on the banister.

"I glanced at it in the paper but didn't have time to read. What happened exactly?"

"They say she's come down with some mysterious illness that no one has ever seen before. The healers have been trying everything but she's only gotten worse and worse each day. They don't know if she'll ever get better."

Bellatrix's hand clenched the railing hard and she swallowed the lump that was stuck in her throat. Merlin, no.

Despair flooded her body so strongly she could taste it on her tongue. This was terrible. Why weren't the healers doing a better job? They should be spending every last resource they had to save her! If Bellatrix was there she would stop at nothing to heal her. And the fact that she couldn't do anything- that she was trapped in this house unable to even be by Hermione's side during this difficult time, was eating her alive.

Boiling and overflowing with ugly emotions that melded all into a rioting storm of malice, she stormed up to her room, needing to expel this frustration inside her. She was ready to throw furniture around, to rip the wallpapers off, to set the curtains on fire, but as she slammed the door open and it banged into the wall hard enough that the doorknob lodged there, she saw something that only enraged her more.

"You!" she snarled out with enough poison to kill if voices could do that.

The figure from before was casually standing by her window, hood covering it's face, and cloak shifting in a slight breeze that seemed to follow it wherever it went.

She forgot all about the potion she was trying to make to destroy it's magic, forgot all about how dangerous it was. The knife slipped down from where it had been hidden up her sleeve and she lunged herself at it with an animalistic cry ripping deep from a throat filled with choler and frustrations.

She didn't get more than two steps when she was prematurely frozen, the knife heating up in her hand until it began to sizzle through her flesh.

A cry of pain left her throat as she struggled against the heat, against the invisible bonds holding her. It was futile. She was at the mercy of this thing, whatever it was. The knife dropped to the floor with a clank and burnt through some of the wood there. The pain slightly receded but Bellatrix's whole palm was singed. Yet, she barely paid attention to the pain, her mind in overdrive on the need to kill this being in front of her.

"What did you do to Hermione? What did you do to her?" she screeched out.

"Something that needed to be done," was the rasped answer.

"That's bloody bollocks! What did we ever do to you?"

It didn't answer that question.

"I'm afraid we don't have much time. Hermione is very hurt." And with that, black smoke curled over Bellatrix's vision as she and the figure apparated out of there. They ended up in Hermione's hospital room. The girl was in terrible condition. Her skin was pale and where it was not it was because it was covered in thick black bulging veins that pulsating with the black ooze poisoning her. They curled up her arms and neck like vines intent on choking her. Her chest moved shallowly as she lay unconsciously on the bed.

"She's in a coma," Bellatrix murmured out, horrified to see the terrible state Hermione was in. She longed to go over and brush her limp hair out of her face. To press a kiss upon her cold cheek. But she couldn't. The figure's magic held her still by Hermione's side.

"Why did you do this to her?" Bellatrix hissed at it, nothing but loathing filling up her chest until she could barely breath. She never recalled being this full of hating, not even when she was a Death Eater. Not even when daddy beat her and mommy ignored her.

"You need to make a choice, Bellatrix," it said, ignoring her questions continually.

"A choice?" What was it going on about now? But something deep inside her gut twisted. She knew whatever it was, it wouldn't be easy.

"Your life or hers." It's tone sent chills down her back. She glanced down at Hermione's prone body as the decision hung in the air, heavy with repercussions there was no coming back from. Her throat was tight. Her hands shook, but she choked down her fear.

For so long she had been a fighter. Clawing her way to the top of her class, to the top of the Death Eater ranks. And even when she had died and been sent back to that hotel, she had fought against it. Had found a way to come back to life. She was a survivor. She had to be, in a world that wanted her dead more times than she could count. Her stubborn nature, her will to prove others wrong, was the main force behind her will to live. And her life had often come at the cost of others.

But sometimes, one had to know when to stop fighting so others could finally stop suffering. She closed her eyes as she made peace with everything she had ever done so she could prepare herself to visit that accursed hotel once more, to part from Hermione who had finally given her a chance to be a better person. To be who she should have been and not could have been a long time ago. She owned so much to Hermione.

The brunette had changed her into a better person, taken care of her when no one else would. Most importantly, forgiven her for her past crimes and seen the good in her where none had been. And she'd made Bellatrix feel loved in a world where they loved her- but that love was only for her bloodied head. "Just tell me, will my passing be peaceful at least."

"Since when are you scared of death?" the figure asked.

"Since it's going to actually stick this time," she responded with, her voice low and morose. She had already ran through all the possibilities of trying to fight this, of trying to kill the figure...but there was no escaping this time. They had no method against it's magic. And Hermione was on limited time.

If only they had something...some leverage- but no, it was too late for that. Bellatrix knew when it was time to give up. She didn't think the day would ever come but honestly, was there ever a question of this deal that was about to be made?

Maybe when she had been her old self, in her twisted mindset, she would have fought back, not caring at the odds. Like when she had bound herself to Hermione during the great battle and which lead Bellatrix selfishly dragging Hermione into death with her so she wouldn't be alone.

Now it was different.

Hermione still had so much to contribute to society. So much to live for. So much good to contribute to.

Bellatrix...well she was from another era. One with outdated ideals. She had lived her purpose. The community hated her anyways. She doubted there was much of a future left for her anyways.

"I hope the gates of hell are ready for me then," she said, numbing herself to what awaited her as she looked on Hermione's fragile body, ravaged by the mysterious illness.

The figure chuckled at this. Dark and unkind. "A worse fate beckons you."

Bellatrix's mind did not waver upon hearing this.

"So redemption didn't work; all that effort to be a better person and...nothing."

"Once a murderer, always a murderer," it replied unapologetically.

"I see," she said and mouthed I love you to Hermione. The figure wouldn't even afford her to kiss Hermione one more time before she went, his magic holding her back. Maybe it was better that way.

She had been wrong; the choice to the situation he afforded would be easy.

"So, Bellatrix, which will it be?"

Straightening her back, she faced the figure and finally made her choice.

Hermione swore she could hear Bellatrix's voice.

In the black void that was her mind, she could hear it bouncing around. That cutting, biting tone, with vowels accented by her accent. At first she couldn't make out the words that were being said but as she focused on it, she could make out Bellatrix talking to someone else, though Hermione couldn't register their words, only the older witch's.

"You better heal her before I go," was the harsh demand.

"You have my word." And then Hermione felt something cold pass over her, like a cold stream pouring over her very soul, soothing the burning ache throbbing through her.

It was a pleasant sensation and it took the heat rooted in her and washed it entirely away.

For the first time since she had suffered that arm wound she felt utterly peaceful and painless. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Will she be okay?"

"As much as she can be."

"What does that mean?" there was a hiss to Bellatrix's voice and Hermione could almost imagine her whirling on the other person. Hermione wanted to reach out to her and soothe her. Wanted to touch her hand. But she couldn't feel her fingers just yet.

She struggled to make her lips form Bellatrix's name but that didn't work either.

"Come now, we must hurry," the second voice urged.

"Can I have another moment-"

"No," was the curt response. "You made your choice and you must face it."

And then Hermione couldn't hear either of them anymore.

That didn't bond well. But before she could think to do anything else she fell into slumber again. The next time she surfaced to consciousness she was able to enter the living world. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

Waking up felt like a ton of rocks was sitting on Hermione's brain and pushing her back into the lifeless void she had been in. Still, she valiantly fought against it, only because she knew she needed to wake up, needed to fight this with every ounce of her strength. With a pained groan she opened her eyes and nearly closed then again from the glare of the hospital lights.

She was really getting tired of these hospital visits.

With another groan, she rapidly blinked to clear her vision. Slowly she began to regain feeling into her body, her legs and arm tingling with a pins and needles sensation. Carefully she sat up, looking over her arms. They were pale and flawless, the wound and those black veins all gone. It was a miracle.

How had this happened? So was the dream with Bellatrix and that stranger real then?

How did Bellatrix get out of the house? And how had the stranger healed Hermione?

Just how long had Hermione been out for?

All she knew was that the disease had progressed scarily fast. What started as a simple scratch grew bigger and began to spread, poisoning her system. It brought fear and pain and the inability to move. Hermione had been scared. Scared she was going to die. And she didn't want anyone to know. When Harry and Ginny came to visit on her second day of staying in the hospital, she acted like everything was okay even as blood poured from her wound.

And she dreaded even telling Bellatrix about this. She didn't want to alarm the woman. She was being a coward, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want anyone to cry over her even as she spent most nights crying herself to sleep half from pain and half from fear. She didn't want to die. She didn't. She hadn't fought so hard, come so far with Bellatrix, only for it to all end now.

Nothing the healers did seemed to work. The mysterious illness continued onwards like normal and by the fourth day of Hermione's stay, she had resigned herself. She was cold, too cold, her lips shivering and blue as she struggled to breath. She was drowning in helplessness, in hopelessness. Drowning in black ooze that took every last inch of her greedily.

She desperately clung on to the last thread holding her to life even as her body shut down and her eyes slipped closed as her body entered a coma.

And now...now she was fine. It was all gone as if it had never happened to her. What the hell had happened?

She was still staring at her hands, trying to process when a healer nurse came in and dropped her tray. "You're awake!" she squealed.

The clatter barely drew Hermione's attention away. "Yes...alive," she murmured out loud. But why?

"It's a miracle," the head healer on Hermione's case announced to Harry and Ginny as they stood by Hermione's bed. The whole morning had been full of tests analyzing her status and trying to determine how she had healed so quickly. They had been unable to, of course.

"We're just happy Hermione's alright," Ginny said, her eyes red and puffy. She sniffled and Harry pulled out a napkin for her to use.

"We'll give you a moment," the healer said and finally, the hospital staff left her alone from their intrusive experiments and questions.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Confused more than anything," she explained. Nothing made sense.

"Is this about your swift recovery?"

Hermione nodded her head, her mind working a mile a minute. "This might sound a little crazy, but while I was in a coma, I heard Bellatrix's voice."

Ginny and Harry offered each other an unreadable look. Hermione knew if Ron was here, he'd already be deriding this fact. He hadn't even shown up when he heard she was ill or that she had recovered. What an asshole. Maybe it was better this way.

"And she wasn't alone. She was with someone else."

"Who?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head, her curls bouncing. "The voice was familiar but I can't place it. And it did something to me. It made me better."

Harry and Ginny were gaping in shock.

"So this...mysterious figure healed you?"

As soon as Harry said that word- figure- Hermione had it all figured out.

"Merlin's right nutsack!" she hissed, filled with dread and anger. She threw her covers aside. "I need to leave!"

"Whoa, Hermione calm down!" Harry placated as Hermione grabbed her wand from the night stand and twirled it above her head, transforming her gown into sensible wizarding robes.

"You just got over something serious. You need to stay put," Ginny added.

"I can't stay put. I have a bad feeling something terrible has happened, and you can either come with me or get out of my way," she said as Harry went to block the doorway. She was breathing hard and her heart was pounding in her chest.

He looked at her, taking in the determined and slightly frantic look in her eyes. "Okay," he said softly. "Let's go."

They apparated to get to the house Bellatrix was held in, Hermione's dread mounting with each step she took. Her palm was slick on her wand and she had to put it away least she drop it.

"Any reports of unusual activity?" she barked out, brisk and with nerves barely hidden under the surface. The aurors guarding the door blinked in shock at her.

"Ms. Granger you're alright-"

"Save the ideal chatter for later. Any disturbances in the house while I was gone?"

"No, none," the younger auror said, taking a moment to find his tongue at her rude dismissal.

Instead of raising Hermione's hopes, it only lowered them. It meant that if there had been a struggle between Bellatrix and the figure, than no one would have noticed.

She made her way into the house, her first stop Bellatrix's room. There was no one there, the bed made and not touched. "Check the downstairs," she instructed Harry and Ginny who had followed her up. They were brimming with questions but they reserved them for now, sensing Hermione's need for them to comply with her orders. While they went down, she searched the upstairs, her heart dropping lower and lower with each empty room. When the trio reunited downstairs, Hermione already knew the news wouldn't be good.

"She isn't here. How is she not here?"

"We need to alert the ministry and send an alert out," she said, voice wavering with saturated emotion.

"Right," Harry nodded his head. "We can't have a dangerous individual running around."

But while Harry was worried about what harm Bellatrix could do to others, Hermione was more worried about what harm could befall Bellatrix.

In the end, their searches were fruitless.

Bellatrix was simply gone. As if by magic.

No one could explain how she had disappeared so entirely but Hermione had a hunch. No, more than a hunch. A fear. She knew of one thing that could disappear like that, passing through even the strongest of wards.

The figure.

The figure had to have come for Bellatrix when Hermione was incapacitated and done something to her. Hermione was devastated. If only she hadn't been as stubborn maybe she could have gotten help faster. Maybe she could have healed earlier. And she could have been there to protect Bellatrix, to stop the figure from doing Merlin knows what to her.

Why hadn't she done things differently? Than maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Kingsley issued a nationwide search for the woman, but no one had seen tail or head of her. Hermione went on almost every single search in a desperate attempt to prove her own suspicions wrong, scouring the woods and cities and bodies of water for any sign of the witch. And it took a toll on her. She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. It got so bad her friends needed to cast a spell on her so she could be confided indoors and get some much needed rest or sleep.

"I don't understand why you're so obsessed with finding her, Hermione. Maybe it's for the best she's gone," Ginny said as she placed a cup of tea in front of Hermione. Her sunken cheeks reflected in the liquid as her thin fingers wrapped around the delicate porcelain.

"It's because I know it was her in that hospital, visiting me when I was ill. And it was that person she was with, that healed me and then made her disappear." Hermione hadn't bothered to tell any of her friend about the figure. What would even be the point? They wouldn't believe her.

"She's not in this dimension," Luna piped up from her armchair next to Hermione. Ginny rolled her eyes at that comment but Hermione was not so quick to dismiss it. Luna seemed to have another sense of these things. A sort of intuition.

"So then where is she?"

"A place only the two of you came back from," Luna answered.

Hermione frowned. The hotel? So was that figure working for the judges? Was it trying to take them both back to where they had escaped? Hermione would have to engineer a way back in there and get them back out.

"You won't be able to get her out of this place, unfortunately," Luna added apologetically when she sensed Hermione about to offer up a plan.

This, this information was what finally broke Hermione. Because she knew, that Bellatrix was finally inaccessible to her. She got up and as calmly as she could, said, "I'm going to take a nap. I feel a bit woozy."

And then she slowly ascended the stairs, refusing to run as Harry, Ginny, and Luna watched her retreat with concern. She cast a silencing spell on the door and threw herself on her bed.

Devastated and guilty and angry at herself, sobs racked her whole body as she cried into the pillows, unable to do anything else.