Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Two
May 31st…
She sips on her coffee, wondering if it's too early in the day to add something stronger, or too earlier to order a pint. Midday, it's evening somewhere in the world. She reflects quietly to herself that perhaps she's tethering on the edge of becoming an alcoholic. She blames Bellatrix, she blames herself.
The last plate is cleared away the evidence of lunch removed and taken to the back of the bistro. A general chatter, a normal day, she watches the shoppers mull around the streets. Wonders what they have waiting for them at home, how many have families. How many have issues if the smiles are genuine or forced? She sees the odd lovebirds wandering merrily, the married ones, those who have been together for a long time dividing and conquering on their shopping trip. An age-old dance of each spouse doing their own thing.
She longs for it, the idea that someone will be waiting for her at home. Someone she can share her day with, someone to hold her on the cold nights. She hates herself for being dependent on the need of another. But she longs for the touch, a caress of a lover. To lose herself in company other than friends.
The crumpling of paper distracts her observations, she turns to focus on her companion for the day. The large hands as they flick through the paper, Auror robes shoved messily in the corner. The collar of the jumper untidy, the untucked shirt she smiles, despite the years they have never changed. Still the scruffy first year she met all those years ago. No longer a boy, a man, his ginger hair slicked back, still messy, but at least he's trying.
An Auror, she remembers the letter, remembers the night both the boys got their letters. Celebrating through the night. Hermione and Ron celebrated, hot and messy against a bathroom sink, back when. When they were young in love, childhood sweethearts the school thought of them. She can still recall the puppy eyes when she broke up with him. Not a fool though he knew it was coming, knew something was wrong. Friendship too important to break they stayed best friends, confidants, monthly lunch sometimes weekly if schedules aligned.
There's mayonnaise on his chin, she fights the urge to remove it. To tidy him like some pecking mother hen, she tries not to do that anymore. Instead, she wonders why his flicking through the newspaper as though it's holding the secrets of the universe. She fights the urge to make a joke and merely watches him.
"Your staring," He comments not removing his gaze from the paper. "I have food on my face don't I?"
She smiles, he knows her too well, they did spend nearly five years tied to the hip. She wonders absently where Harry is, they went in different directions at the Auror unit. Harry turned to foreign affairs, spending most days away. She reflects if this has something to do with his relationship with Ginny.
A forearm rubs against his scruffy five o'clock beard, removing the mayo from evidence. She clenches the unused napkin in her hand, refusing to object to him using his clothes. Refusing to use her wand to clean his sleeve. She is not his mum nor his girlfriend.
"Better?" Ron asks, finally setting the paper down as his slice of cheesecake arrives in front of him. He pauses, fork raised in the air, glancing at the scrunched napkin. With a smile, he shakes his head turning back to his desert.
"What were you looking for?" Hermione asks, glancing at the daily newspaper.
"Mn noth..in s"
"I'm sorry?" She repeats, flinching as he spits some food.
"Sorry," He mumbles wiping his mouth. "I said, there's been an attack of women in the city, murder, no one's reporting mind."
"Prostitutes?" Hermione guesses.
He doesn't speak merely points his fork at her with a nod. Of course, no one is interested, why would they be interested? The world sees women as worthless, nobody's who's going to miss a sex worker.
"Until the sicko changes, graduates from prostitutes to someone else."
"An upstanding citizen."
"Exactly, then everybody will care. All diplomatic now, the politicians don't want the news out there."
"Election month is coming."
He shrugs, dropping the fork, he pushes his empty plate away. It bothers him, she can tell, can see from the bags under his eyes that have been working this case. He doesn't see the women as anything less than women, to him they are sisters, mothers or someone's daughters. She admires him for that.
"Are you getting enough sleep?" she asks.
"Yes, mum." He grumbles, reaching for his second cup of coffee. "Enough about work, what are you hiding?"
"Hiding?" Hermione asks, has become that transparent?
"Please, you usually talk my ear off by now, mumbling about something new you learned. Or you'd be itchy to leave to get back to work. Except your sitting there, staring blankly out towards the street. Fred said he saw you out on the town twice last month, a record for you."
"Fred's spying on me?"
"Fred's trying to get it on with Jasmine."
"Oh," Hermione grimaces, that was not going to end well.
"Yeah, oh." Ron nods with a sigh. "So come on, who's the new fella? Do I need to do a background check on them?"
"Why would there be someone new?"
"You got new furniture."
"I was given a bonus."
"Sure, you barely spend any time at home. You take crooks to work with you sometimes, but now you're buying furniture which means your entertaining."
His eyes flash a smile on his boyish lips, she wants to smack him. Secretly, she appreciates that someone is keeping an eye on her. She takes Ron for granted sometimes. Reclining in her seat, she contemplates spilling her new friendship.
"I'm not seeing a guy."
"Oh, a girl," He mutters with excitement. "Tell me more."
"Perv," She grumbles flicking him the finger. "It's not like that, we're just friends."
"So were, we."
"No, she's straight."
"Isn't that rule one don't fall for a straight girl?"
"I haven't fallen for anyone."
"You've got a secret friend, who you brought new furniture for and spend your time entertaining? Harry and I don't even get the luxury of your time."
"I know, I know, I should make more time for you. We could do something next week?"
"Stop changing the subject. Come on, give me a name, do I know them? Oh bloody hell I do, I know that look! You had that look when you broke into the forbidden section in the library. It's naughty isn't it, she's married. Is she married?"
"Ron," Hermione groans rubbing her face. "It's not. We're not seeing each other they are just a friend, just a friend."
"Right,"
"I'm telling the truth. They're just a friend. It's just more who they are than anything."
"Oh, I'm intrigued." He whispers. "Who is it?"
"Don't make this bigger than it is, please. Promise you won't go telling everyone, we're just friends."
He pauses, summing Hermione up, with squinted eyes. She glares back daring him to say something. But she needs to tell someone, anyone, what's happening because right now she's losing her mind.
"Okay, but tell me this"
"What?" Is the exasperated reply.
"Are they just your friend?"
"Yes."
"Not to you though. I know that look, this is something more. They see you as a friend, but you have feelings? For them?"
"Maybe," She admits.
"I knew it!" He claps. "Sorry, sorry."
He composes himself, folding his hands together he focuses fully on the conversation. She sighs, she's not sure how he's going to react to the news of her new friend. Let alone, her friend who she may have accidentally fallen for. Will he walk out, will he laugh, will he lose his mind and tell the whole wizarding world before she has a chance to stop him? It doesn't matter, she tells herself, doesn't matter if he does tell the world. She's not ashamed, she just doesn't want it affecting her friendship with Bellatrix.
Their fight a few weeks back is still raw, they don't mention it and everything returned to normal. Bella came furniture shopping even in the muggle world, helped her pick out a new sofa. Even asked to buy her a present for the house. She wanted to say no but allowed the witch to do so, wondering what expensive crap Bella may buy. It melted her heart when the witch turned up one night with some new scatter cushions for the sofas. The ones she had been eyeing up but wasn't sure about buying. Plus, a small house plant, something Hermione is bound to kill.
"Come on then, who is she, I'll do a check on them."
She smiles in amusement; Ron always ran a check on her new love interests with or without her consent. She wonders sometimes if he still loves her more than a friend. Hopes he doesn't, because of the pain she feels from being friends with Bella, she would not want to inflict on another.
"Don't think that's necessary," Hermione mutters.
"I'll judge that," Ron assures with a smirk. "Spill."
"It's Bellatrix, Black," Hermione confesses.
His mouth hangs open, no words forthcoming, he stares blankly at her. All thought processes are lost. He turns to wave down a waitress. She panics wondering if this is him leaving flagging the waitress for the bill.
"A brandy please, double. A bottle of red for my friend." He orders, before turning back to Hermione. "I'm going to need a drink for this."
"Ron," Hermione soothes, falling mute as the drinks arrive, watching him shoot the brandy before ordering a couple of beers.
"Your best friends…" He stumbles over his words rubbing his chin in thought. "Best friends with Bellatrix Black."
"Yes," She answers reaching for the wine and empty glass, contemplates just chugging the bottle, but decides to pour a glass instead.
"As in the Bellatrix Black?" He repeats pausing as the waitress brings the bottles of beer. "Keep them coming."
"Well, yes do you know another?"
"Bellatrix Black," He whispers leaning across the table. "My Boss?"
"Ah," She forgot about that. "Oops."
"Oops?" he repeats before chugging his first beer. "I'm screwed."
"Oh please, I don't think she even knows we're friends."
"You don't mention me?"
"Well yeah, but it doesn't ring a bell when I do."
"Oh great, she doesn't know who I am. It's not like I don't see her every bloody day!"
"We're just friends."
"But you want more." Ron summarises. "Okay, take me from the start. How screwed are you?"
She wouldn't call it screwed, but she obliges and informs him of how they met, minus a few embarrassing details. She surprises herself, she manages to make it platonic, that it's all just a friendly, friendship. Reassures herself that they are just best mates, nothing else.
"Oh man," He moans. "Your screwed."
"No, I'm not," Hermione argues frustrated. "We're friends."
"Minus the fact you know the smell of her perfume, you get butterflies, plus you get this look on your face at the mention of encounters, you, my friend, are screwed."
Sighing, she folds her arms, tipsy from the wine she glares at her friend who smugly drinks his beer. Night has fallen the sun has sunk in the sky, the bistro is getting louder. She's lost track of time, debating her love life, she never imagined this.
"Okay, I'm screwed," Hermione admits. "How do I fix it?"
"You need to get laid."
"I did that, twice," Hermione replies.
"Oh… I don't know then." He flushes red.
Rolling her eyes considers going outside and sponging a cigarette from someone. She did get laid, perhaps she needs a night out in the muggle world and visit a few gay bars. It's been a long time since she went out with her cousin and friends from childhood.
She ignores the way Ron's face flushes or the fact it now matches the colour of his hair. Knows his mind has disappeared down the alley of once seeing her naked. She needs some release, perhaps a new lover, someone different.
"Maybe you should stay away?" Ron suggests. "I mean, you could just minimise contact. Until you know, it no longer hurts?"
She pauses, she had considered this, perhaps she should lessen her contact with Bella. Spend some time alone to focus on work. She tries to ignore the comparison of how they broke up, how Ron spent months not seeing her, replying to her letters but refusing to meet with her. Did she do the same to him?
"I don't know if I can," Hermione mutters placing her glass down.
"Course you can just blow off some nights out," Ron reassures.
She considers not seeing Bella, not spending their nights watching crappy tv programs, and time spent debating random facts. Her heart constricts at the idea, her mind offers a reason that it is most likely the best course of action. That it will help her build some walls and boundaries. Her heart mourns though at the idea of losing a sparring partner mentally, losing the one person that pushes her. That challenges her.
"I'm not strong enough," Hermione admits reaching for her glass.
He doesn't comment, to her surprise, he just takes her hand. With a gentle squeeze, he drinks his drink, sipping on his beer. She smiles at him, glad that they never destroyed their friendship. Ron stood up to Snape in potions when he would target Hermione for being a know-it-all. Her best friend, her protector and she is his. A bond forged, a bond she could not function without.
"I love you." She states quietly because she does, love him dearly.
"I know," He murmurs, she watches Adam's apple bob, before a smile makes its way to his lips. "I Love you too."
She's selfish, it dawns on her too late that he still loves her more than a friend. Despite the years that have passed, he still loves her, and potentially wishes she will come back. She can see him cracking because this is the first time, she has admitted feelings for another in the years they've known each other. Because this time it's different for her, this time she's in the same seat as him. Karma has come for her now.
"You'll figure it out, you always do."
They split the bill, he offers to walk her back, she waves off his concern. Yes, there may be a serial killer around, but she won't make Ron go out of his way. They depart with a hug and a kiss on his cheek. She wishes him goodnight, a promise to catch up.
She travels home, with a slow walk until the heavens open. It takes seconds for it to drench her to the core. She scurries through the street and despite the charms protecting her she feels cold. Numb fingers using her wand to tap the code to enter the apartment complex she slips inside. Ensuring the door locks behind her.
Taking steps two at a time she dries herself off with magic. It does nothing to warm her though, the rain has chilled her bones. A vocal Crookshanks greets her by the door, she shimmers in the room. Locking her door, she trips and stumbles to Crookshanks's food bowl as he weaves between her feet. She wonders if he intentionally is trying to kill her or is just showing strange affection as he howls the apartment down. He takes two bites of his wet food before skulking away.
Rolling her eyes, she sheds her clothes, heading to the shower, ensuring the water is piping hot before entering. Thoughts of Bella infiltrate her mind as her fingers travel south, to deal with an itch.
Satisfied, she slips from the shower, draining her hair off, she wraps herself in a small towel. Groaning, she remembers she left her bath towel in the bedroom. She wants to pop open another bottle of red, sink into the sofa, listen to some music, and focus on some work. She has a few reports she needs to finish writing.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"FUCK!" She screams, slipping on the wooden flooring, she clutches her chest.
Grasping the side of the furniture, she clutches her chest with her free hand staring at the dark witch leaning in the bedroom doorway. Surprised, Bella stares back amused, arms folded she watches Hermione with laughter in her eyes.
"Fuck Bella," Hermione shouts, pushing from the chest of draws. "How did you get in?"
"I have a key?" Bella reminds her.
"For emergencies." Hermione comments, flushing as she realises, she's butt naked in front of the woman she just fantasised about. "Emergencies."
"You didn't answer the door,"
"I was in the shower."
"How was I to know that there's a serial killer rapist about."
"Emergencies Bella, not for when you're being impatient." She groans. "DO you mind?"
"Hmm?" Bella replies glancing down at Hermione's body. "What?"
"I'm naked, do you mind?"
"It's nothing I haven't seen?"
"I'm sorry?" She must have missed something; Bella most definitely has not seen her naked.
"We're both women, you don't have anything I don't have," Bella replies casually.
"Just past me my towel, please."
Reaching behind her, she pulls the towel from the radiator before tossing it toward Hermione. Reaching into her cloak, Bella plucks two takeaway menus out. Wrapping her towel around her body, Hermione makes her way over to the bed, plopping down on the edge she begins to dry her feet.
"You eaten?" Bella asks again as Crooks slinks his way through her legs into the room.
"Yes," Hermione answers.
"Oh," Disappointment, so quick it disappears as Bella disguises her feelings by plucking Crookshanks off the floor. She cradles him like a baby in one of her arms as he purrs and slobbers all over her robe.
"I had lunch out," Hermione continues, glaring at her cat. Why doesn't he react like that to Hermione?
"Oh, a date?" Bella suggests.
"Enough booze for one," Hermione mutters removing the towel from her hair.
"Do tell, what's her name."
"His," Hermione replies rubbing her hair with the towel, she flicks her hair back pausing. "What?"
"Nothing," Bella replies focusing back on the cat in her arms. "I'm not interrupting dessert, am I?"
"Missed that," Hermione mutters with a chuckle to herself, just herself and her trusted fingers. "Anyway, I'm up for Indian if you want?"
"Haven't you just eaten?"
"At lunch, I've drunk enough wine since then to know, I need some more food. Or Chinese you choose anything to help me ease into another bottle."
"You're turning into an alcoholic," Bella warns tracking Hermione as she wanders across the room.
"Only on my days off," Hermione replies shuffling through her draws.
"Don't think it works like that," Bella pauses as Hermione drops her towel.
"What? You wouldn't leave the first time; I'm not asking again."
"I'll go order us some food," Bella replies dropping the cat as she slips from the room.
"Hypocrite," Hermione calls after her.
Dressed in pyjamas Hermione shuffles into the living room with her woolly slippers on. Wrapped up she slips onto her new sofa, wondering what food they have coming tonight.
"You're out of coffee," Bellatrix comments as hinges squeak as she moves through the cupboards.
"I'm out of nearly everything," Hermione replies, realising, this isn't a social visit as much as it works. Bella wants to bounce ideas off Hermione, most likely regarding the case of the serial killer. "I need to go shopping."
"What is that?" Bella asks fridge open.
"I think it was a lime."
"That's disgusting, you need an elf."
"Nope, not getting into that argument again."
"Bloody pay the creature just don't live in squalor."
"Fine, fine, how long until food?"
"About an hour, it's a Friday. So, make that two."
"Fine, I'll go to the shop."
"What?"
"Corner shop," Hermione replies summoning a different pair of bottoms she slips a hoody over her pyjama top. "I'll get some bits."
"Fair enough."
"Whoa, where are you going?" Hermione asks struggling into her boots, she finds the witch near the door.
"With you."
"No, we've got food coming."
"Serial killer rapist," Bella repeats slowly.
"I'm not a prostitute unless your mistaken… oh. There's been another body hasn't there?"
"A street over from here."
"Not a prostitute?"
"No, found the body this morning, a mother works at the ministry."
"Well, I'll be fine, won't be a tick. Bella. No, you're not coming."
"Yes, I am."
"I don't need a guard."
"You will come back with just booze."
"I'll get your coffee, let go of the door."
"No."
They glare at one another before Hermione sighs unlocking the door.
"After you," Hermione mutters.
She considers slamming the door shut, locking the witch out, but decides against it. So much for putting distance between the two, she's now shopping with a hungry Bellatrix which will leave her bankrupt.
A few hours later, a happy full Bellatrix, empty cartons of food and grisly pictures of girls' murders spread across the table. Hermione yawns, one leg crossed over the other as she stretches, her mind whirling with information.
"Isn't' this stuff classified?"
"Oh, and who you going to tell?"
She snorts at the joke, sipping her decaf coffee, she stares blurry-eyed at the pictures of the scenes. The killer is becoming more confident, but right now all she can think about is the ice cream. The clock merrily reminds her it's two am, crooks is fast asleep on Bella's chair, a smug look on his face. She wonders if Bella is ever going to leave, or if they will be staring at these pictures until the morning.
The conversation with Ron repeats randomly through her mind as she watches Bella stretch in the chair. The self-doubt why does Bella always come to Hermione's. The concern Hermione has never stepped foot in the witch's home.
"Why do you always come to mine?" Hermione asks, too tired to beat around the bush.
"Sorry?" Bella asks, the question has struck a chord. She can see it in the way Bella shifts in her seat, even crooks has opened one eye. "I don't always come to yours."
"We do, it's either mine or somewhere else, never yours. Why?"
"You never asked."
"I have actually," Hermione comments, a few times she's dropped the hint. "I don't care; I just want to know why. Are you not comfortable with our friendship?"
"We're not starting that argument again." Bella dismisses.
"Does he still live at yours?"
"Not likely." Bella hisses the words, venom dripping.
"Then why? Please, I just want to know. I don't care the reason; I just need to understand why it's always mine."
A pause, the picture Bella had been studying dropped onto a pile as she chews her lip before rising from her seat. The kettle boils as she faffs around in the kitchen hoping time will change the conversation.
"I'll get you a blanket and pillow." Hermione sighs rising to her feet.
"Why?"
"Sadistic killer? You can crash on my sofa."
"Please,"
"Don't test me, Black." Hermione threatens as she retreats into her bedroom.
She places the blanket and pillow on the sofa, swigging the last of her coffee she washes her cup out. Hovering around as Bellatrix eyes up the offered clothes should she wish to change into something more comfortable. She half expects the witch will disappear when Hermione heads to bed, but she hopes she will stay. At least until dawn breaks.
A hand, soft, surprisingly warm clutches her wrist as she heads to the bedroom. Distant eyes study Hermione before the hand releases her.
"My house isn't home. It's a big cold building."
"So, you're more at home at mine?" Hermione sums up. "Do I need to start looking for a two-bed?"
A short chuckle, as Bella shakes free of her Auror robes, leaving her in nothing but a skirt and t-shirt. She drops a few inches as she kicks off her shoes, reaching for the offered clothes.
"My ancestors decorate the walls, their portraits. If you come to mine, I can only imagine the comments you will receive. I would remove them, but they are stuck steadfast, trust me I've tried."
"I can handle comments."
"Yes, I'm sure they won't say anything you probably haven't heard before." Bella nods. "Regardless, I don't feel you should be subjected to racial abuse. Not at the hands of my ancestors, not under the roof of my house. The shit they say to me is… disgusting at times. I wouldn't want to imagine what they would even say to you."
Nodding, Hermione understands, understands all too well. Because the doubts that linger are there because of society, because of the blood in her veins. She places a soft kiss against Bella's cheek, subtle, faint.
"You're sweet. Goodnight, Bella."
She leaves the witch stunned, slightly annoyed at being called sweet. Retreating to her bedroom, Hermione closes the door with a soft click. She crawls under the duvet, at least she has a reason now.
It's about eight am when she wakes up to the meowing of Crooks. Shuffling into the living room she finds it empty, with no sign of the Auror. Blankets, pillows, and clothes folded neatly aside. She wonders if Bella stayed at all.
Crooks hounds her screaming demanding food, she moves to his bowl, and a letter catches her attention on the countertop. Picking it up she ignores the Crooks she pulls the letter out.
The little blighter has been fed, do not listen to his lies. I have a meeting first thing. Are we still going to that opening this weekend? I can't remember the time send me an owl.
Ps. A key to mine, I recommend real emergencies only.
Stay safe.
B.
Smiling, Hermione weighs the old key in her hand, glancing down at the cat sulking by his food. Unlike Bella, she will only use the key for emergencies.