Breaking the Window
Chapter 41: Memories
Hermione proudly wore her lovely new earrings, gifted to her by Trix on Christmas day. Though Bellatrix had been disappointed that there hadn't been any live crucifixions, the combination of turkey and silly horror films had been more than enough to make up for it. Soon their holiday would be coming to an end and they would return to Hogwarts to finish the last half of the seventh. For Hermione, this would be the return to somewhat of a semblance of normality. For Bellatrix, it would be the return to boredom and drudgery.
Today, on New Year's Eve of 2002, they would be sleeping outside of the confines of Catterborough Woodhouse.
Call it nostalgia, call it foolishness, call it wanting to relive the first days of their relationship, but Bellatrix and Hermione had the idea to spend a night in the very tent where they had first explored their love for each other. Their tent, of which Bellatrix again proclaimed it had belonged to the three Black sisters, had been set up swiftly enough.
So here they were, lying down on top of the sleeping bag.
On the lawn.
Ten meters from the front entrance.
With Sebastian in earshot in case they wanted tea.
"It's not the same, isn't it?" Bellatrix lamented as the two girls looked up at the decidedly usual and mundane clear skies of the planet Earth.
"Not even close," replied Hermione.
"Will we ever have an adventure quite like that again?" asked Bellatrix.
"Perhaps," said Hermione. "But we should remember our time in the Fae Realm fondly and cherish the memories. Times like that will never return."
"Any regrets?"
Hermione turned to Bellatrix. Her girlfriend already had her head turned towards her, a smile on her face. A bit of an odd question. "None," she said. "You?"
"None," Bellatrix replied firmly. An eyebrow raised, however. "Well..." she started.
"Hm?"
"In retrospect, we might have gone into the Fae Realm a little more prepared, perhaps have been a little more careful, done more planning, went back into the real world more with our findings," muttered Bellatrix, looking up at the skies again. "It'd be nice if we could have avoided wrecking the place."
"Yeah," Hermione sighed, glancing over at Zipper who was sat on the ceiling of the tent. "All those reports of new magical creatures being sighted? I hope most of the animals got out alive, but I think they have."
"Heh," laughed Bellatrix. "Good thing we got our applications out. Nobody will be able to take credit for our discoveries."
"I'm surprised nobody from the Ministry has stopped by to ask us some serious questions yet."
"They will," shrugged Bellatrix. "Right now, Andie is probably protecting the both of us. And you, well, the lawsuit probably complicates things. Oh, shit... just had a thought."
"Hm?"
"Well," started Bellatrix, glancing up at the sky once more. "If all the portals were thrown open, right? So all the animals can cross over, that also means that those awful things from the fog island can and maybe scores of other dangerous things we haven't even seen yet! Not to mention our old 'friend'…"
"Right," Hermione hissed through her teeth, reliving those horrible, horrible memories for a moment. "I suspect the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is going to have a few busy years."
A voice rang out from just outside. "'ello," sounded the lightly accented voice of Bellatrix' uncle Achille. "Are you girls decent? I'd knock but I'm not certain 'ow to knock on a tentflap."
A few moments later, the three of them were sat at the small table where, not that long ago, Bellatrix and Hermione sorted their noted and pictures every day of their exploration. Three cups of tea, courtesy of Sebastian, stood steaming in between them on a silver tea service.
"Excuse me for dropping by unannounced, but I spotted your tent from my atelier and felt like visiting," said Achille. "We 'aven't had much of a chance to talk. Don't worry, I won't keep you for long as I'm certain you 'ave some vigorous discussions with mademoiselle Granger on your mind, non?"
Discussions. Right. Hermione's cheeks flushed briefly.
"I simply wanted to see 'ow the two of you are doing," asked Achille. "It must still be all very overwhelming."
"And exciting!" said Bellatrix, grinning. "It's like a whole new world to explore. But... yeah, I wish this could have been done without hurting my family."
"In a way your disappearance brought us all closer together, non?" chuckled Achille. "Your father and I regularly clashed and now we've made our peace. 'e often comes to my atelier for a chat and 'as done so ever since your disappearance. Loss 'as a way of bringing people together."
Hermione could see a flash of guilt cross Bellatrix' features. Ironically, Bellatrix disappearing for thirty-three years was the best thing that ever could have happened to the House of Black: not dying out, Andromeda not being exiled, Ted and Nymphadora being alive, the family staying together in their mansion and still playing a big role in wizarding society, cutting themselves off from the Death Eaters and their ideology, starting a foundation to help young people forced into arranged marriages. Funny how key events in someone's history could have such a profound effect on everyone around them. Not to mention Hermione's personal benefits: she had gained a loving and attentive, if somewhat wild and unpredictable, girlfriend.
It was becoming ever more likely that her name would be Hermione Black some day. That gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.
So yes, her girlfriend making a thirty-three year timeskip was objectively beneficial to her family, but saying that to the already guilt-ridden enough Bellatrix would be a rather cruel thing. So Hermione wisely kept her mouth shut.
Another thing she'd keep her mouth shut about was about the other Achille's selfless sacrifice. It hurt her head to think about it, but her heart just as much. Hermione had wanted to tell Bellatrix of his bravery on several occasions, but had finally decided against it: 'No, let her keep her innocence' was his last wish. This man had loved his niece enough to give his life to give her a chance to avoid her fate and she would honour it. Besides, her uncle was alive and well here.
"I never 'ad children of my own, so I lived the family life vicariously through my sister's daughters, non," chuckled Achille. "A better question would be: 'ave you been keeping up with your stories? I 'ate being a nag, cherie, but creativity must be nurtured, non?"
Bellatrix smiled. "Well, I've made work of your suggestion of writing a book about my experience with Hermione. All the way from us meeting to our exploration of the Fae Realm and finally ending up here."
"Seriously?" smiled Hermione.
"Oh, yes, I've got an outline and everything," said Bellatrix. "Been working on more short stories too. Want to hear one?"
A few moments later, Bellatrix had fetched her leather-bound notebook and flipped through it, looking for something she found presentable. "Right," she said. "This is mostly finished. I call it 'The Thing In The Shadows'."
"Wait," Hermione interrupted and grabbed Bellatrix by the arm to drag her to the sleeping bag. Hermione lay her down on the sleeping bag and once Bellatrix had a pillow against her back, Hermione snuggled up against her. "Now I'm ready for story time."
Oncle Achille let out a laugh and sat down on the chair next to the sleeping bag while Bellatrix started reading from the leather-bound book.
"The 17 year old Gethsemoni was in a very good mood today. After graduating from Hogwarts, she and her fellow Gryffindors decided to have a private party at one of their muggle-born classmate's house in Manchester to celebrate the end of the school year. Together with her two friends Rhine and Anemone, they had hatched a scheme to stay out late: each witch had told their parents that they'd be sleeping over each others houses and they had left to the party in the hopes that their parents wouldn't double check.
As young witches were wont to do, they had loads of fun dancing and drinking with their friends, celebrating that the hell that is Hogwarts was over forever. After what seemed like hours of fun, the three young and now rather tipsy witches made their way into muggle Manchester, giggling as they stumbled through the mostly empty streets. They found their way into a quiet park and found a bench overlooking a duck pond conspicuously lacking of any ducks.
"Come on," laughed Rhine and clapped Gethsemoni on the back. "I saw you snogging Asher in the corner while Odin was breaking out his dad's whiskey."
"Pfft," Gethsemoni rolled her eyes. "You single me out for snogging Asher while Anemone was polishing Mac's wand underneath the table."
"Hmm," chuckled Anemone. "Solid Beechwood. Quite whippy!"
"Oh, you slag!" Gethsemoni snorted before all three girls exploded with laughter. A bottle of whiskey they had taken from the party was shared and it didn't take long before Rhine whipped out her wand and set one of the bushes on fire, laughing loudly as she did so.
"FUCK HOGWARTS! FUCK SCHOOL! FUCK STUDYING!" Rhine cried into the night. "AND FUCK CHILDHOOD! WE'RE ADULTS NOW! WOOOOOOOO!"
"Yeah," Gethsemoni replied before releasing a belch. Gethsemoni, however, noticed that Anemone had gotten rather quiet as she was looking over the pond. The pond was like a black mirror in the darkness, reflecting only the light of the muggle street lamps since it was a new moon today. Anemone simply stood near the edge, eyes narrowed while she glanced over the water. "Annie?" Gethsemoni asked.
"I wonder where the ducks went," Anemone whispered softly while Rhine yelled and set another bush on fire.
"Pfft," Gethsemoni chuckled. "In between Rhine's yelling and bad pyromancy, they probably took off."
"But... then we would have heard them, wouldn't we?" Anemone replied. "There was nothing."
"You're paranoid," said Gethsemoni before taking another swig of whiskey. She wanted to berate Anemone for being a drag when the other girl got up from the bench and took a few steps forward. There was something in between a copse of nearby trees. Or, more specifically, a lack of something. A darkness that was darker than dark.
It was only now that Gethsemoni noticed just how quiet the park had gotten. Deafening silence, no sound of birds, wind or anything related to the usual bustling of a town or city. Just... the slight sound of slithering and the sound of sludge bubbling coming from the direction of the copse of trees.
"What... what is that?" Anemone took a few steps forward.
"Annie," Gethsemoni muttered when she saw something moving in the impossible darkness. "Come back... don't get to close to whatever that is."
"WOOOOOOOOO!" sounded Rhine as she started dancing on the bench. That proved to be all the distraction that was needed. As Anemone turned her head instinctively, a massive ink-black tentacle lashed out from the darkness. Before either of her friends could react, the tentacle had wrapped around Anemone's legs and lifted her into the air, only violently to slam her down unto the ground one, two, three, four times.
Anemone was dead before she ever had the chance to scream.
"ANNIE!" cried Gethsemoni as the tentacle dragged her body into the shadows, leaving a trail of blood behind.
"BLOODY HELL!" yelled out Rhine as she whipped her wand into the direction of the trees. The fireball she had been casting to set another bush on fire, show forward and exploded next to the trees, briefly illuminating a writhing, formless mass of oily tentacles producing an inhuman shriek.
"RUN!" Gethsemoni yelled and grabbed Rhine by the arm. The two girls ran as fast as their legs could carry them. The shapes, the figures, that oily thing... it was everywhere. In every shadow, in between every tree, behind every bush. Thankfully, the path was devoid of the darkest shadows, but that didn't prevent the tentacles from lashing out at them from their shadowy perches.
The screeching was maddening in itself... above them the lamps inside the muggle street lights blew out, strengthening the darkness.
"GETH, LOOK!" Rhine pointed out towards the closed muggle tea shop at the edge of the park. Right now, it was their salvation. Gethsemoni picked up the pace. They were almost there. With her free hand, she waved her wand and opened the door from a distance, preparing to run inside with Rhine.
Her heart sank when she reached the door and felt Rhine's arm being yanked away. After turning around, she saw a screaming Rhine before hoisted into the air by countless oily tentacles before they tightened around her limbs.
Rhine's screams were cut off abruptly when her body exploded in a hail of bone and blood, all of which was gathered by the tentacles and dragged back into the impossible darkness before Gethsemoni could blink. Gethsemoni rushed into the tea shop, threw the door close behind her and fell back, crawling backwards until her back hit the counter of the shop.
Only then did Gethsemoni allow herself a sob while hugging her knees to her chest. Merlin, what was that thing? Her poor friends! Oh, Circe, everybody thought they were having sleepovers. Nobody would come looking for her. At least she was safe in this tea shop. This muggle shop was her safe haven, her salvation.
Or was it?
She noticed, to her horror, that there were shadows all around her: from the counter, the table, the chairs. Gethsemoni let out a gasp and raised her wand to her head. "LUMOS!" she shouted. A dim light was cast, creating a bubble of safety.
Her breath caught in her throat when she heard the bubbling gurgle all around her. Small tentacles reached out from the shadows in between the chairs, the tables and the counter above her. She closed her eyes and whimpered when the tentacles slowly caressed her skin. There was an unnatural coldness emanating from them which caused her entire body to wrack with shivers. Gethsemoni tried to keep her breathing under control as she clutched her wand to her in trembling, sweaty hands.
"Gettttthhhh..." sounded from the darkness.
"A... Annie?" Gethsemoni sobbed.
"Join us Geth," Rhine's voice was added to the chorus. "It's so much fun down here."
"No... No... I saw what it did to you both."
"Geeeettth," the voice of Anemone, distorted and sickening, sounded closer now as if she was sitting just outside the bubble of light. "Come with us. You won't have to be afraid anymore."
"It's not so bad, Geth," spoke Rhine, apparently on top of the counter, just out of sight.
A giggle from Anemone. "We'll get you, you know. Might as well give it up and spare yourself the anguish."
"Yeah," Rhine laughed. "Friends through eternity. Loyalty. Honesty. We'll stay together through thick or thin. Light or darkness. We'll always be together."
"We'll make sure we'll always be together," Anemone chuckled, an unnatural and humourless noise. "We'll never let you go!"
Gethsemoni trembled when she felt a cold tendril slide past her forehead, to a point that she nearly dropped her wand. She bit her tongue to the point of drawing blood as she tried to get her fear under control.
Daylight. Daylight would vanquish this beast. Or at least, drive it away. She would only have to hold out until sunrise. Yes. Sunrise. Daylight. She'd only have to hold on.
Her eyes drifted upward, almost sobbing when she saw the meandering larger tendrils pressing against her protective bubble of light while the smaller ones kept brushing her skin. Behind that writhing mass was a wall clock. Her heart sank when she dared to peek at it.
It was three minutes to midnight.
Sunrise was still seven hours away."
Hermione shifted, chuckling briefly. "Oh, nasty!"
"I agree. Very good," said Achille, having taken out his sketchbook and running the charcoal over the paper with tremendous speed.
Bellatrix seemed quite pleased that her audience liked it. She seemed to be getting far more confident about her crafted tales. "I'll leave it up to the reader to decide if she's survived the night."
"Hm..." Hermione thought a moment. "I don't think so. She was so afraid she almost dropped her wand in the first minute. Gethsemoni will have to endure seven hours of unrelenting psychological torture. I don't think she'll even last seven minutes in the state she's in. Besides, the monster might just come back for her the next night."
"I respectfully disagree, mademoiselle Granger," said Achille. "Fear can be a strong motivator, and I get the feeling Gethsemoni 'as enough will to survive the night and deny the creature its meal."
"Even so," said Hermione. "She'll likely be scarred for life. An experience like that leaves it mark. I imagine that, at some point it just gets easier to just give in and let it happen. To imagine that it's happening to someone else instead of you as a way to cope. You just want it to be over, no matter how it stops."
"Hermie?" asked Bellatrix, concern etched on her face. "Are you alright?"
Hermione nodded briefly. "Yeah, I'm fine, Trix. Why wouldn't I be?" she replied.
"Then why are your hands shaking?"
Were they? Hermione looked down and saw the hand lain on Bellatrix' stomach shaking something fierce. She lay her other hand on it in a futile attempt to stop it. "It's... just a cold night," Hermione lied, rather unconvincingly.
Achille was apparently finished with his sketch and handed it over to Bellatrix. She held it up for both of them to look at: it was a sketch of a terrified young girl holding a lumosed wand while dark tendrils were reaching for her through her protective bubble surrounded by darkness.
"If I ever do release a bundle of horror stories, you will have to illustrate it, oncle," said Bellatrix.
"Oh, I insist!" he said. "I shall leave you girls be, non? You don't want your old oncle around when cuddling in the sleeping bag, I'd wager. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow morning. Bonne nuit, mon filles!"
For a few moments, the girls watched the stars together after getting ready for bed. Hermione held up her necklace: the lights inside of the strange crystal were as bright as the stars above and danced readily. Again, Hermione wondered what these patterns were, but realized she'd likely never learn.
"We had some good times in this tent, haven't we?" said Bellatrix.
"The best," Hermione confirmed.
A grinning Bellatrix gently slipped underneath the duvet and, considering the girls were only wearing their necklaces, Hermione felt soft lips tracing patterns around her bellybutton. The young witch simply closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment.
Sure, this tent has seen many adventures, but was still perfect for making love in.
Hermione blinked through a grey haze and found herself on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Truth be told, she'd had this particular dream so many times before that she knew exactly how many beams in ceiling ran from one end of the room to the other and how many panes were in the stain-glass window above the staircase. Fifteen and forty-seven respectively. It had become routine, really, another ritual she would have to get through every so often. These days, Hermione was very much aware that she was in a nightmare. The last time she had endured this was… back in the Fae Realm, she believed. Before the time-line had been altered.
Bellatrix Lestrange leered over her. The older Bellatrix. The one that didn't exist anymore. She had just pushed her to the ground, standing over her menacingly. This time, Hermione was not afraid or even interested in her threats and cackles.
Hermione wanted to smirk at her, self-satisfied with the fact that she had effectively wiped that version out of existence. Bellatrix Lestrange cursed her, cackling madly at her. Hermione didn't even flinch, didn't even care. She just lay back and let the scenario play out as it always did. This time she was not afraid. This time, she was not weak. This time, she would simply drift back into slumber as the night would continue. This time, she'd be free. Oh, Bellatrix Lestrange could yell, scream, punch, kick as much as she pleased. For the first time since ages, Hermione was not afraid.
If Hermione could speak, she would have told her that she was irrelevant, that she no longer existed and that she person she had once been now had a second chance to thrive and grow.
If Hermione could have moved, she would have treated her once tormentor to a grin and a two-fingered salute.
A few moments from now, she would drift back into nothingness and all of this would pass and she would be back in the sleeping back with her own Trix.
Hermione had won. She was free.
Finally free.
Were it so simple. Instantly, Hermione realized that something was different from her usual nightmare. Something was wrong.
Bellatrix' face appeared to melt. Hermione frowned. Though she could still not move, she managed to get a good look at the woman's face, now falling apart like hot candlewax. Her whole body seemed to morph, twist and mold itself into…
Rodolphus Lestrange.
Instantly, Hermione was overcome with blinding terror. The man reared back his fist and slammed it into her cheek. Her head whipped to one side, slamming against the cold stone. Her stomach lurched when he stomped down upon her, shouting his questions. Question to which Hermione had no answers. A filthy mouth belittled and taunted her. She tasted blood in her mouth as his beefy fist connected to her nose. Hands around her throat. Squeezing. She fought for breath. She fought for life. Tears rolled over her cheeks. She was picked up with consummate ease and hurled against one of the pillars. She was kicked in the ribs and found her bones buckling and snapping. It was no longer about the questions: he was trying to prove a point.
Hermione desperately tried to escape. Her body ached as she tried to crawl away. She didn't know where. Anywhere would do. The ground beneath her was wet with her blood. Rodolphus walked away from her, over to the fireplace only to return holding a long copper poker. A thin metal rod with a large heavy knob on the end. Hermione tried to shield herself, but the impact of the first blow from the poker smashed a bone in her forearm. She heard Narcissa's horrified scream, heard Draco's yell demanding Rodolphus to stop while a stricken Lucius did his best to hold them both back. The heavy knob of the poker hit her against the head, the stomach, her knee. Hermione cried out in pain and terror before coughing up more blood.
Again, Rodolphus shifted, melted like a puddle of wax. Suddenly, there was Bellatrix. The younger Bellatrix, wearing that same ugly sneer as her older self, right before bringing the poker down to smash her fingers. Hermione cried out in pain, terror and betrayal.
'Why?!' she wanted to cry out. 'I love you! Why are you doing this to me?!'
But she could not speak. And Bellatrix could not hear.
She felt the impact, again and again. Her body screamed in pain until it became so overwhelming that she expended the last remaining energy she had to curl into a ball. Hermione couldn't fight it anymore, couldn't handle it anymore. She just had to endure unrelenting blow after unrelenting blow.
Her eyes shot open and suddenly Hermione could move again. She was covered in liquid, her body was trembling and, hovering above her... Bellatrix. Hermione screamed and started thrashing.
"Hermie, what..." Bellatrix started to say, but Hermione had to get away. Had to run. Had to escape from the pain.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" screamed Hermione.
"Sssh!" replied Bellatrix. "I'm here for you."
Her wrist! Bellatrix had grabbed her by the wrist.
"Hermie!" shouted Bellatrix. "Calm down! It's just a dream! Just a dr-"
A terrified Hermione lashed out, kicking out her legs and catching Bellatrix square in the chest. The smaller girl was sent flying backwards, her head colliding with one of the tentpoles with a resounding clang before falling down onto the ground.
Hermione scrambled away in a blind panic, finding a corner of the tent and pulling the blanket firmly around her while whimpering softly.
Wait.
Tent?
She was... in a tent. Their tent.
On the lawn of Catterborough Woodhouse. Ten meters from the front door. With the butler in earshot in case they wanted tea. Hermione closed her eyes and forced herself to start breathing normally. It was... oh god, that wasn't just a nightmare. That was an amalgam of extremely traumatic memories from two separate time-lines all blending together in a neat little package of misery.
The liquid she felt on her skin wasn't blood, but sweat. And she was soaked.
"Oh no..." muttered Hermione. "Trix? Trix, I'm sorry."
No response. Hermione looked to the side of the sleeping bag where her girlfriend lay prone.
"Trix?"
She wasn't moving.
"Trix!" Hermione rushed to her girlfriend's side. She was unconscious, her eyes closed. To her relief, Trix was breathing but the moment she reached out to touch her girl's curly black hair, she withdrew a hand covered with crimson.
"Oh, god," Hermione whispered.
Zipper had home down from the ceiling, looking to see what the commotion was all about. Hermione could only look on with sorrow and guilt as the wasp landed next to Trix and gently nudged the unconscious girl with his mandibles.
What happened next was all in a haze. She didn't even have to call for help, because it was already under way. Bellatrix was brought to her room in the manor and put in her bed while her father examined her. And that's where they were now: Bellatrix on the bed with Hermione next to her, holding one of her hands while a cooing Druella held the other as she sat by the side of the bed. Cygnus Black roved his wave over his daughter's head while Andromeda stood next to him with her arms crossed.
"Well, it's not nearly as bad as it seems," said Cygnus, raising himself and leaning on his cane. "Only a small cut on the back of the head and she might have a bit of a concussion. She'll be fine."
Relief washed over Hermione and squeezed her hand slightly. Truth be told, she had expected more anger from her family.
"Having three active daughters meant I had to learn a lot about healing magic," spoke Cygnus. "You should ask Cissy about the time she managed to sever three of Bellatrix' fingers with a misapplied ginsu charm. It's actually quite funny."
"You had a panic attack," Andromeda interrupted. "Perhaps you should find a way to keep those under control if this is the result."
"I... didn't mean to..." Hermione frowned. "Wait. How did you know I had a panic attack? You are still having me watched," she concluded before Andromeda could answer.
"Come on, Andromeda," said Cygnus. "Look at the poor girl. She's practically radiating guilt."
"Yes," Andromeda said, sighing. "And trust me, if you had actually meant to harm my sister, we would be having a very different type of conversation right now."
"Andromeda!" Cygnus gave Andromeda a look. "She's upset enough already. There's no reason to add to her distress."
Andromeda sighed a brief moment, shaking her head before addressing Hermione. "Right," she spoke softly. "You didn't mean for it to happen."
Cygnus sat down at the side of Bellatrix' bed. One look at her sleeping girlfriend made Hermione's heart constrict with guilt once more. "I'll watch Bellatrix for now," said Cygnus. "Hermione, you look like you have something on your mind. Why don't you discuss that with Andromeda in private while Bella rests, hm?"
Hermione closed her eyes. Was this entire family so very perceptive or was she just so easy to read? Andromeda shot her father a nod and the two of them walked back into the common lounge area outside of Bellatrix' bedroom. The two of them sat down on one of the sofa's and a tea service was quickly put down by Sebastian.
"Don't worry," said Andromeda after pouring the both of them a cup. "No veratiserum in this one."
"Hm," replied Hermione after taking a sip from her cup. It must be around seven in the morning right now. Still a ways off sunrise in winter. "Sorry about getting you out of bed."
"It's fine," Andromeda said, looking around the room fondly. "I spent so much of my youth in this very lounge. The room Nymphadora now occupies was my old room. Cissy's room was over there, but it's now somewhat of a storage room for Nymphadora's things. Mother wanted to keep Bella's old room intact. To... remember."
"I understand that," sighed Hermione. "Memories are what haunt me now."
"What happened in that tent?" said Andromeda. "Why the panic attack? You haven't had many since your return. Especially not the last few weeks."
"How did you..." Hermione started before catching herself. "Right, you're having me watched. I don't know why it happened exactly. Perhaps it was because of the story Bellatrix told before we went to bed. Or maybe it's just my own trauma acting up. I've... don't remember having had one this bad since... since the days I was recovering at the Burrow. It was like memories of both time-lines blended together and amplified each other. Two contradictory events clashed and then melted together to imprint itself on Bellatrix. Not the older Bellatrix I prevented from happening, but the younger Bellatrix. The girl on the bed in that room. The girl I love."
Hermione sniffed briefly, feeling hot tears running across her cheeks. "I... I just don't know what to do! I'm getting the feeling that my memory problems are getting worse. I know Trix never tortured me and never will, but after what happened today, I'm very scared. What if it does get worse? What if it gets in the way of a happy life with her?"
Andromeda stared at her for a moment, inquisitively. Was there sympathy in her eyes? The Black matriarch gently put down her cup and tented her hands together, lost in thought before finally responding. "Thank you for being honest with me, Hermione. Truth be told, your situation is unique. The condition you have has never been experienced by anyone on this planet ever before. That brings with it a lot of unknowns."
"Is that just a nice way of saying that I'm insane?" Hermione sniffed.
"Not at all," said Andromeda.
"Maybe I should look into obliviation," said Hermione. "Perhaps that might solve it."
"More likely it will destroy your mind," said Andromeda. "Obliviation isn't exactly subtle and it becomes more dangerous the older the memories removed are. It's only reliable when you remove the memories almost immediately after they happened."
"I know," said Hermione. "I obliviated Trix in the Fae Realm."
"What?!" was Andromeda's immediate reaction.
Hermione held up her hand. "Hear me out, I had a good reason," she said. "There was an accident with a fungus which had the ability to transfer thought from one person to the other. It transferred memories of my torture, my trauma and of Bellatrix' future to Trix. She... didn't respond well to it. I only erased the last 30 seconds of her memory."
"That's safe," said Andromeda, somewhat relieved. "But removing memories from years ago? Tricky. Imagine the mind as a house of cards: you can safely remove one card from the very top, but anything lower than that and the whole thing comes tumbling down. If you remove the cause and leave the effects, the web of memories unravel, your past stops making sense, your mind destabilizes and..."
"... I turn into Gilderoy Lockheart," sighed Hermione. "It's why I haven't erased my trauma to begin with. It's left too many scars to be safely removed."
"Wise," said Andromeda. "But there might be another way."
Andromeda was being particularly enigmatic as she led Hermione through the darkened halls of Catterborough Woodhouse. Their silent walk took them all the way to the other wing of the house where the astronomy tower was located. Apparently, the lower floor has been fitting with a state of the art alchemy lab with a myriad of expensive equipment even Hogwarts didn't possess. The walls were lined with jars of ingredients, some quite expensive.
"My father's lab," said Andromeda. "Though I use it often. The Blacks are all accomplished potioneers. Remember when we last spoke, I mentioned I was planning to brew a potion called the Waters of Lethe?"
"I do," said Hermione. "You said you wanted it to block memories of the things you saw in my mind?"
"Yes," replied Andromeda. "It works differently from obliviation. It doesn't remove memories, but blocks them, while leaving cause and effect intact. You'll know you've made a certain decision, stand by it, but won't remember exactly why you did."
Andromeda walked to a cold-storage and opened it. There was a single vial of a clear liquid inside. "Is that..." Hermione asked.
"Just finished brewing it today. It's absolutely pure," said Andromeda. "I was planning on using on myself, but I can brew a new one just as easily. You should consider using this potion to block the memories of the old time-line."
Hermione nodded, looking at the vial. "The contents of that vial," muttered Hermione. "Has about the same value as a house in Knightsbridge."
"Oh, pish-posh. Price is no issue for us," shrugged Andromeda. "I warn you though, it is not without risks. It's going to take a subtle touch to block memories and there's no way to tell if it won't block the memories of the same event in both time-lines."
Hermione frowned. "And this is a bad thing?" she asked. "Blocking my trauma is not something I'd be all that much against."
"Think about it," said Andromeda. "It blocks the cause, but leaves the effects. All your trauma will still be there, but you won't be able to recall the cause. All the therapy in the world won't help you deal with your issues if your memory to it is blocked. Remember, this is a permanent solution."
"How would this work?" asked Hermione.
"There's two components. The potion and the caster. You drink the potion, we get comfortable and you recall the memories you want to forget. It is easiest to focus on a common thread which is related to all memories," said Andromeda. "I will talk you through it and make sure the potion goes only as far as we want it to go."
"My headaches!" said Hermione. "I get a headache whenever I try to remember something from the other time-line."
"Hm, that could work," said Andromeda. "Are you certain you wish to do this? It is not without risks."
"Positive," said Hermione. "I understand the risks, but I also understand the benefits. And I don't want to hurt Trix or have a mental collapse."
"Very well," said Andromeda. "Let's get started then."
Andromeda took Hermione to a sitting room when she was asked to lay down on a leather divan. The divan was soft and comfortable and she was bathed in darkness when Andromeda placed a sleep mask to her eyes. Hermione heard Andromeda walk over to a cupboard and pull something from a paper sheath. A few moments later, she heard the crackle of a needle on a vinyl record. Soft, soothing tones of classical music started playing.
"Tchaikovsky," said Andromeda. "Serenade for Strings in C major,Op.48. Always helps me relax."
Yes. She had to admit that it was indeed quite relaxing. Hell, in between the mask, the divan and the music, she was almost ready to slip into a deep slumber. Andromeda then put the vial to her lips and instructed her to down the vial in one go. Unfortunately, Andromeda had not warned her that the taste would be absolutely beyond vile.
Hermione gagged, but managed to keep the brew down. It would be a shame to vomit a potion with a value of around three million pound sterling all over the possibly even more expensive carpet, after all. Above her head, she felt the crackle of magic in the hair as a wand roved back and forth.
"Focus on the memories you wish to block. Start with the commonality," said Andromeda.
Hermione did so: the headache. She focused on the terrible headaches she'd get whenever she tried to remember an event specifically from the old time-line which was superseded by the new one.
"From the commonality, focus on the specifics."
Hermione hissed when her head felt like it was about to explode. She remembered reading about Bellatrix Lestrange, learning of her crimes, learning of how Neville had suffered. She remembered meeting Bellatrix Lestrange at the Department of Mysteries, her further encounters. The... the torture. The pain. Her cruelty at the battle of Hogwarts. The duel and her death. Seeing Nymphadora dead on the ground. Nymphadora being an auror. Joking around at Grimmauld place. House Black becoming non-existent and its last members either dead or exiled.
And then, everything slipped away. And all was different.
No.
Not different.
Odd. Why did she think anything was different?
No, all was as it always had been.
Rodolphus Lestrange, that rotter. He had cursed the Longbottoms into insanity. He had attacked them at the Department of Mysteries. He had killed Remus. Kind, gentle Remus, the auror she had met in her third year. Joking around at Grimmauld place. House Black thrived under Andromeda Black's leadership. She remembered reading an article about her in Galleon 500.
Her thoughts drifted back to Rodolphus Lestrange, his brutality knowing no bounds at the Battle of Hogwarts and yet escaping like a coward. She remembered the terrible violence inflicted upon her at Malfoy Manor and shuddered: and to think her nightmare had caused her to harm Trix because of him!
At least her headache was gone.
Hermione removed the sleep mask and saw that the run had risen. Odd. How long had they been here? She looked up at Andromeda who was smiling at her. "Oh, I'm sorry," said Hermione, somewhat embarrassed. "What were we talking about?"
"How are you feeling?" asked Andromeda.
"Better... I think," she said, looking at the empty vial. Oh yes, they were doing something memory related, right? Hermione thought for a moment and didn't seem to be missing anything. Try as she might, she could not recall why she had taken the potion. Though she supposed that was rather the point.
All she could recall was taking the potion had been a correct decision, even if she could not remember why. Shame the potion couldn't be used to erase her trauma.
Andromeda kept that enigmatic smile of hers up while they walked back to the other side of the mansion. Hermione was eager to see Bellatrix again, feeling particularly bad about hurting her due to her panic attack. That was another thing that bastard Lestrange was responsible for.
When they arrived, she found Bellatrix sitting up in bed surrounded by her family. Her mother and father sat on one side of the bed, oncle Achille on the other and was sketching at usual, while Nymphadora leaned against the wall. From the sound of things, Bellatrix was reading to them 'The Thing In The Shadows' from yesterday and seemed to be finishing up.
"It was three minutes to midnight. Sunrise was still seven hours away," Bellatrix read before closing the book.
"Oh, nasty," replied Cygnus.
"Mon dieu," pouted Druella. "Why don't you write about nice things instead?"
"Pfft," Nymphadora chuckled. "Nice things are boring, nan."
It was then that both Hermione and Andromeda were noticed.
"Hey mum," Nymphadora grinned. "You just missed a fun and completely fucked up fairy tale. Ask auntie Bella to read it to you sometimes."
"Tiens, mademoiselle Granger," greeted Druella. "We've 'eard what 'as 'appened."
"Hermie!" greeted Bellatrix. "Glad to see you're doing well."
"I should say that to you," said Hermione, right before rushing to the bed to embrace her. "I'm so sorry."
"Eh," shrugged Bellatrix. "I should have known better than to grab your wrists while you were having a panic attack. Mum gave me stern lecture about it."
"Qui," Druella raised her chin imperiously, much like her daughters often did. "Mademoiselle Granger, I know quite a few things about panic attacks, 'aving experienced a fair few of them myself. One does not accost someone who is 'aving a panic attack. Ones leaves them be until they allow you to approach them."
"When you say 'one', you mean me, right?" Bellatrix pursed her lips.
"Oh trust me, I've learned that the hard way," Cygnus laughed, clacking his cane to the ground. "I've been magically hurled across the room far worse than Bellatrix has and I have the scars to prove it."
Hermione reached out to take Bellatrix' hand and squeeze. Her girlfriend took the opportunity to lean in for a brief brush of lips.
"No 'ard feelings, mademoiselle Granger," said Druella. "Let that be a lesson to you, Chouchou! Learn 'ow to treat your girlfriend proper, non?"
"Hah," Cygnus laughed. "And what of you, Andromeda? Has your perspective changed?"
Andromeda nodded briefly. "Aye," she said. "I am now convinced that Hermione always had good intentions at heart. I might question some of her decisions, but I will not question her character ever again."
"Thank you," Hermione replied and turned her gaze back to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, the sad lonely girl from the past she had met in the woods. The girl she knew had disappeared and had likely been murdered. The girl she had tried to save from that face. Okay, perhaps her disappearance was due to the time-skip she herself had caused, but she still maintains that Rodolphus Lestrange would likely have murdered her given his history.
Achille, whom had said nothing until now, lay a charcoal sketch on the bed. It was a quick and crude work and showed Bellatrix sat on the bed with legs covered by the sheets, while Hermione sat by her side holding her hands. The sketch showed them looking at each other with a loving gaze.
"Hah!" laughed Nymphadora. "I told you you'd be fam sooner rather than later, Hermione."
When embracing Bellatrix, Hermione briefly reflected on the irony of it all. As a muggle-born, she felt safe and accepted by one of the most pure-blood minded families in all of Britain.
Would wonders never cease?
By now, Zipper had found his way onto Bellatrix' lap and enjoyed a bit of a cuddle. Hermione was enjoying a bit of a chat until Achille handed her a sealed envelope. "Mademoiselle Granger," he spoke. "This message was you was still sat on the tray outside the room. I take it you have missed it?"
Curious, she unfolded the paper and skimmed through it. Then, sure she had misread, she started at the top again and read it more slowly. Seeing her flabbergasted look, there were some enquiries to what was wrong. Hermione remained silent for a moment, until she blurted it all out. "Letter… InfoWizards… Donations… Kept in escrow for my parents… They, they won't have to sell the house! TRIX! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
Bellatrix only gave her a smile and a wink.