Yes, this is mostly just a filler chapter but I've been desperately trying to finish it so if it's not the best, the story progresses on next chapter. There is a hint of things to come, though, but it's just that - a hint. It is shorter than usual, but at least it's something!
Also, I'm sorry for being M.I.A after promising to finish this story before summer. This past month has been a nightmare. I caught a staph infection from a fucking hot tub and it's kept me down for the count for a while. However, the next chapter is already in the works and should be out by next week. Please, enjoy!
-X-
After satisfying the carnal needs that bloomed over the previous month, Hermione lay cuddled against Bellatrix, her head resting in the crook of Bella's pale neck. She had an hour until she needed to find Draco and return to the castle, but the feeling of her lover's secure arms soothed away every incident that she'd endured and she was not ready to extract herself from them.
"How are things?" Hermione wondered, kissing Bellatrix's collarbone sweetly.
"He is preparing for something He needs. It shall be his before the end of your term – at least, that is His plan."
Giggling, Hermione's lips grazed the column of her dark witch's throat. "That's not at all vague."
"You know how He is. He has to have secrecy – needs it if He is to complete the tasks presented."
Hermione nodded. She understood that both sides relied on keeping secrets they believed the other did not possess. However, having danced the line between "good" and "evil" left her with the knowledge of both.
"I love you," Bellatrix hummed, combing her fingers through Hermione's hair and scratching her nails along the Gryffindor's scalp.
Hermione snuggled closer to the older witch. "I love you too, Bella. So much…"
Fingertips traced absent symbols against Bellatrix's chest, right over her heart. She wasn't positive what they were, but whenever she touched Bella, they seemed to come to her – a hazy memory that clouded Hermione's mind but she knew not where they came from.
"We need to dress. You must return to the castle soon," Bellatrix sighed wistfully.
"I know," Hermione replied, though she made no attempt to move.
Chuckling, Bellatrix poked Hermione's naked side and the girl flinched, laughter bubbling from her lips. She swatted at the persistent digits, but Bellatrix simply changed areas to torment.
Hermione squealed and rolled from the bed, falling onto the floor with a quiet "oomph."
"Are you okay?" Bellatrix peered over, smirking down at her giggling lover.
Nodding, Hermione rose from the floor. She started gathering her scattered clothes, redressing slowly so Bellatrix could enjoy a brief show. As she bent over for her panties, she threw a saucy wink over her shoulder, proud of the flush blooming along Bella's cheeks, her eyes watching with rapt attention.
"You make it hard for me to let you leave," Bellatrix groaned, tossing an arm over her face dramatically.
"I know." Hermione smirked, sliding on her undergarments before dressing fully.
Bellatrix crawled on all fours to the end of the bed and crooked a finger at the Gryffindor. Gripping each side of her jacket, Bellatrix dragged Hermione into a passionate kiss, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth before releasing the horny girl. "Go. I must leave before people see me and Merlin knows I'll want to keep you here."
"I love you," Hermione whispered, pecking the Death Eater's lips.
"And I you, darling. Now go."
Hermione gazed at her lover, drinking in the sight of Bellatrix's disheveled hair and sated smirk before nodding. Taking the inn key, she tucked it into her pocket and slipped out the door, casting Bella on final glance.
Sighing, Bellatrix flopped down onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She felt like a teenager again – love struck and giddy, but she treasured these moments. Nothing was as it seemed anymore and times were changing. Soon, they would need these memories if they were to remain sane. Well, as sane as she could be, considering she was the right hand of the Dark Lord, after all.
There wasn't much sanity in being a Death Eater, but that detail wasn't really that important, right?
-X-
Passing the key to Madam Rosmerta, Hermione caught sight of Narcissa. She was straightening the boy's jacket and combing his hair affectionately. She hurried over to them, tossing her arms around the matriarch with unspoken gratitude. In her heart, Hermione knew the older woman had been the mastermind behind Bellatrix's undetected arrival.
"I take it you enjoyed your surprise?" Narcissa murmured, returning the embrace.
"It meant the world to me," Hermione admitted, squeezing the woman's lithe waist before stepping back. She seemed brighter than when she'd first stepped into the inn – as though the month's stress had bled away and left a new slate in its steed.
Narcissa smiled. "Off you go, you two. Wouldn't want you to be late, now would we?"
Draco bid his mother farewell with a brief peck on her cheek before linking arms with Hermione. The two were gone from sight before Narcissa's smile dissolved into worry.
They were just teenagers, but the impending war was already affecting their well-being. Draco was thinner – lanky compared to his departure from the manor. Hermione, as she'd noted earlier, was cool; every step and look calculated as though she were preparing herself for battle.
And, in hindsight, she probably was.
-X-
The library was barren aside from the Gryffindor hidden away in her little corner of the room, a worn book resting on the table along with quills and parchment. Her transfiguration homework was something she'd inadvertently shrugged to the side in her excitement. It wasn't difficult, just simple vanishing spells that required little thought, but she was not one to shirk her responsibilities.
Her schooling came first; she was the head of her class, after all.
Clicking her tongue, Hermione scribbled down the proper answers to her work. With Umbridge as High Inquisitor, magic was frowned upon outside of the classroom – hell, in classrooms it was iffy. She'd taken complete control even with Dumbledore remaining as Headmaster. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry took power over his job as well.
"Hey," Neville greeted, halting at the sight of the concentrated Gryffindor. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Of course not, Neville," she smiled, gesturing for the young man to sit.
Nodding appreciatively, he settled across from her and opened his textbook, pouring over the pages. They lounged in a comfortable silence, each consumed by their own work. It was nice to have that sort of friendship; to simply sit together and complete school work without the need to fill the stillness with incessant chattering that neither would remember.
"Hey, Hermione, can I ask you something?" Neville inquired once Hermione finished writing. With her nod of consent, he continued, "When did you and Draco become so close? I mean, he used to torment you…a lot."
Hermione smiled, not really surprised by the question. It was something quite a few people wanted to ask but didn't have the guts to.
Really, she wasn't sure why she'd been so forgiving of his actions. Maybe it was because of his upbringing, though she disapproved greatly of it. Maybe it was because of her connection with Bellatrix. Maybe it was just because she needed a friend that – albeit reluctantly at first – would stand at her side.
She couldn't speak for Draco and Ginny's budding friendship, though. That was still a mystery to her.
"Well," Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully, "I'm going to confide in you something not a lot of people really know." She glanced about, searching for listening ears and found none. "I knew about my parents before Christmas. I can't explain how, but I knew. Narcissa was nice enough to offer me guardianship after the Order decided I was "untrustworthy" and shunned me. I had nowhere else to turn, so I accepted the offer. Draco and I became close over the break and now he's become one of my closest friends. He has his flaws, I admit. His family motto, "toujours pur," is still bothersome and his pureblood mentality is maddening, but every family has their problems I suppose."
Neville was honored Hermione had trusted him enough to tell him the truth and it gave him something to think about. His disdain for Malfoy wasn't going to disappear in one sitting, but it allowed for a new perspective. Hermione had entrusted the Malfoys with her life – something she wouldn't have done blindly. If it was what she felt was right, then maybe he could learn to tolerate the Slytherin.
"Thank you for trusting me." He smiled shyly at the girl, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
Hermione reached across, taking his hand in hers. "Neville, you are one of the sweetest people I've come to know and I trust you implicitly. You have a pure, genuine heart and that's one of the best qualities a person can have. I may not always be able to answer your questions, but I will not lie to you."
Neville flushed crimson at the compliment, but squeezed Hermione's hand. No matter what rumors the DA spouted (though most came from Lavender and Ron), he'd stand with the Gryffindor.
-X-
Seated in front of the fire, Bellatrix gazed upon her Lord with trepidation. He was sipping tea, staring coolly into the raging heat.
"You are my most loyal, aren't you, Bella?" he wondered, tilting his head slightly.
"O-of course, my Lord! I'd do whatever you asked of me." Bellatrix bowed her head submissively, pondering what she had done to deserve his ire.
Chuckling, Voldemort set his cup onto the table. Fully turning his attention to the witch, he studied her slumped form. Bellatrix had been his faithful right hand for decades, following him without question. She trusted his judgment implicitly and did for him with the knowledge he would not lead her astray, only having the best intentions for her - and, like a proper gentleman and Lord, he always had. She was a brilliant witch with a bloodlust unmatched by any other, man or woman. She was cunning, conniving – vicious.
The perfect servant.
"Then I am tasking you with a mission that I could not imagine entrusting to any other." The Death Eater perked up noticeably. "It is of the utmost importance that you do not let me down."
"Yes, my Lord."
"I have a connection with Potter. This has been established, as he was the one to know of Arthur Weasley's attack and subsequently saved him from certain death. A prophecy has been written, though I do not know the exacts of it. I have been using this bond to show him things in his dreams in hopes of coercing him to find and retrieve what is mine.
"As we know, I have attempted to obtain it through other means, though it has been foiled each try. There has been no success and I must change my course of action. So, he must be the one to access it, as I cannot simply storm the Ministry and steal it myself. That would be a misstep at the very least. He will come for it.
"When the time comes, you and Lucius are to head a raid of the Ministry and take this from him. Use whatever means necessary but do not kill Harry Potter. I, and I alone, must be the one to end him. But, do not fail. Should the prophecy stay in his possession, I will be most displeased, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix beamed, thrilled that the Dark Lord had entrusted her with a mission of such importance. "I will not fail you, my Lord."
"I trust you will not," Voldemort replied. "How was your visit to Hogsmeade? Is Hermione well?"
Bellatrix deflated slightly. "She is doing as she can. She seems subdued, really. I think her House has been bothering her far more than she's admitted."
"Fear not, Bella. She is strong and she will learn to make them fear her. She may not realize it yet, but she has great power and she is destined for greatness. I have full confidence when the moment arises, she will make herself known and present herself the way she should: as my daughter."
-X-
Being the child of the Dark Lord left Hermione with terribly mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was frightened by the idea that her father taking control of the world. He was a pureblood fanatic with radical ideas of how to "fix" the Wizarding world. On the other, the Order believed that the world was fine as is – though there were clear problems. She had no idea which was the lesser of two evils anymore.
When the time came, she didn't know who she was going to follow into battle.
Decree 27 was enacted days after the Quibbler released the article, though Hermione wasn't too surprised. The mere mention of the Dark Lord had Fudge and the Ministry up in arms. They believed banning the magazine and threatened expulsion for anyone caught with it would stop its messages, but Luna hadn't cared. She just secretly passed them out to whoever was willing to read them – a courageous act that Hermione admired.
The Quibbler's article about the Dark Lord's return was well-written, she observed as she discreetly combed through the tabloid. She wasn't sure how Rita Skeeter had been bullied into publishing it but Harry's interview was quite convincing and she was positive it'd garnered Harry a bit of support – a determination Hermione couldn't decide how she felt about.
Sighing, she tucked the magazine under her bed.
Things within the school had calmed, lulling her into a sense of unease. There was always a quiet before an impending storm, so she knew she needed to remain vigilant lest someone catch her by surprise. Seemingly, Harry had managed to rein in Ron and his nasty comments while Lavender continued to leave a wide berth between herself and her fellow Gryffindor.
Maybe it was just paranoia, but deep inside she knew it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.
Slipping from her bed, Hermione trudged down into the common room. Neville was staring at the wizard's chess board, concentration tightening his features. He was locked in a battle of wits with Seamus and, from what she could tell, Neville was winning. It was a rarity for the Gryffindor to play, but when he did, he was quite brilliant. What he lacked in fighting, he easily made for with his strategic mind.
Father would appreciate someone with his talent, Hermione absently mused.
No one ever really gave him enough credit in her opinion. He changed so much since their first year at Hogwarts. His penchant for Herbology overshadowed his other attributes and most overlooked him because of it. He wasn't a duelist like Harry or a bookworm like Hermione. He blended in with the crowd – and that's what made him dangerous.
"Bloody hell," Seamus griped, slumping dejectedly in his chair. Scowling, he jerked up from the chess board and stormed off, leaving Neville to stare after him with a pleased expression.
Chuckling, Hermione strolled over to the board and settled herself in the chair across from the Gryffindor. "Fancy a game?"
"I didn't think you played," Neville chuckled, setting the board back up. "Isn't it barbaric?"
Rolling her eyes playfully, Hermione crossed her arms. "It is, but I've finished all my work and I'm honestly kind of bored."
He nodded in understanding. "I take it you understand how to play chess, right?"
"Of course."