Here you guys go! This chapter was truly one of the most emotional to write. After writing chapter one of this story I had the ending to this one planned in my head from the get go. Sorry for breaking any hearts, I promise it will pay off!
Warning, this chapter does vaguely talk about rape, not in any sort of detail, but it is breifley implied. Proceed with caution.
Enjoy & Review!
Narcissa anxiously paced the expanse of her bedroom, trying to talk herself into speaking to her sister. Her deranged, disturbed, sister. But her sister nonetheless.
It was a mess. Save for the poor battered girl in her basement, Narcissa felt completely alone, despite the fact that both her husband and sister occupied this very house.
Because neither of them saw it.
They couldn't see how wrong, how monstrous it was to treat Hermione, Muggle-Born or not, as an object. To be used and abused day after day and for what?
After all this time, she still couldn't fathom what they wanted from her. She doesn't even think Bellatrix knows what she's demanding of the young witch half the time, making it all the more awful.
She was weighing her options. Lucius was on thin ice with the Dark Lord, not that Narcissa wanted to engage in conversation with him, especially as of late.
Bellatrix was frankly her safest bet. As horrible as it sounds, Bella is so invested in herself that even if Narcissa said the wrong thing, she could easily twist it another way. And again, they were sisters.
She wasn't expecting her older sister to understand or even be sympathetic. Bellatrix has always been set in her ways and since the first war, Narcissa thinks she's incapable of such emotions.
Sighing, she decides to just nip this in the bud and descends down the steps.
As her left foot left the grand staircase, she soon spotted bushy hair puffing out from behind an armchair.
Narcissa suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Bellatrix has taken to camping out in that seat. The Dark Lord usually appeared only feet from it.
She was obsessed.
"Bella, we need to talk." She said in the strongest, steadiest voice she could, as she drew her sister from her daze.
The mad witch eyed her for a moment, adjusting her legs to drape over one of the arms on the chair, "talk." She responds, fingering her wand.
"What is it that you're planning tonight?" At this Bellatrix sits up, "I've heard you, you know. After all, this is my home." The younger of the two states before she can help it.
"You should stay out of it Cissy. Some things are bigger than you and your poor excuse of a husband." Bellatrix bites.
Well, Narcissa couldn't argue with her on the last point...
"This is my house and I demand you tell me." She stomps her foot for effect.
The brunette jumps from her chair, "oh!" She squeals, "you demand it of me, do you?" Bellatrix taunts, like Narcissa is one of her victims.
She doesn't waiver, "that's right."
"Why, oh why, should I tell you? And don't tell me it's because this is your home." Lestrange questions, rounding her like a hungry shark.
Narcissa turns so her brown eyes pierce the other woman's, "because I'm your sister."
Bellatrix stops.
"You are." She says, just about as soft as she can physically manage.
Seeing she's getting somewhere, Narcissa nods, "you are, so I hope you listen to me when I tell you that what you're doing and whatever you're planning, is wrong."
"Wrong?" The mad woman responds, the word sounding bitter on her tongue.
"That's right, that girl down there, she's Draco's age. She's his classmate!" Her anger crumbles into sadness, "they have the same professors and they've been to the same Quidditch matches. They're both prefects." She says, tears pooling her eyes. "It's so wrong, imagine if that was Draco."
And without a beat, the brunette has her answer, "no."
Malfoy thinks she heard it wrong, "no?"
"No." Bella repeats, "it would never be Draco. Ever. He's a Pureblood. He's sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He never stole someone else's magic and tainted himself further by befriending Harry Potter!" She shouts.
"She's just a girl, like me and you were. We were just her age when you, me, and Andi went down-"
"Andi? Andi is it now? Don't be so naive Narcissa! That woman is dead to me. Dead to me!" Bellatrix shouted, stepping closer.
"She's our sister!" She screams back with equal fervor.
"Sister? Don't make me laugh!" She cackles a bit for good measure, "the second she married that-that Mudblood, she became the furthest thing from family!"
"Bella, how can you say that?"
"What! It's not like we even speak to her! Not that I'd want to."
Narcissa bites her tongue. She's secretly corresponded with Andromeda more times than one through the years.
"And if her marrying that disgusting filth wasn't enough for you, what about when her daughter started seeing that Werewolf? Disgusting half-breeds." She spits.
"Why does all this matter so much to you?" She finally asks.
"Because Cissy, they're thieves, all of them! We couldn't do half of what we did had we not come from the Black bloodline. You think we'd even still be alive if we were pathetic Mudbloods? No! We're all magic. Through and through. I value that. Your sister doesn't. You should too."
Bellatrix steps closer so her breath tickles Narcissa's nose.
"Even if that thing in the basement didn't have dirty blood, it doesn't change the fact her best friend is Potter. The very boy trying to destroy the very world the Dark Lord is building. A world where people like me and you." She pauses, "like your son, can have more power then you can imagine. And we deserve it." She whispers darkly, making the other woman shiver.
Narcissa gulps, "that girl in the basement, she won't change this whole war. We don't need her." She throws in the 'we' for good measure, hoping it'll give Bellatrix some ease.
"Maybe not. Maybe so. That's not for either of us to decide. The Dark Lord wants it to stay, so it stays." She finishes, then smiles mischievously, "plus Muddy is so much fun. Several people around here agree."
Narcissa stumbles back, suddenly feeling sick.
When did her sister, her own flesh and blood become so vile? She's known she's had her problems. She's always had them. And she's seen her kill, beat, curse a plethora of wizards and witches, but never like this.
Never a young girl. Never offering up someone the very same age as her own son up to filthy men to have their way with her.
Not long ago Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa were Hermione's age. Young girls caught up in the brewing storm.
Now, all these years later, in this very moment, it dawns on Narcissa that maybe she's chosen the wrong side.
"How can you even say that?" She manages.
The brunette huffs, "you better watch yourself Cissy, I see you stalking off to the dungeons. I've only let it go on for this long because as you said, we are sisters, but know this," she leans forward, "after tonight, nothing, nothing, you do in that dungeon will save the Mudblood from what's to come."
"Tell me Bella, please tell me." She practically begs.
Bellatrix seems to think about it for a moment, "no, I don't think I will." She says venomously before disapparating.
…
She isn't sure how long she stands in the now unfurnished foyer for. The crack of her sister dissapparting still rings in her ears, as the heavy weight of what she is doing gets heavier by the second.
Sighing, Narcissa decides to check on Hermione. Bellatrix is gone anyway, so now's as good as ever.
Sauntering down the stairs, her eyes flick to the faint glow now erupting from the enchanted candle. Squinting, she can make out the exposed girl clutching that book to her chest.
"Hello dear." She says softly, crouching in front of the bars.
Sighing like she always does when she realizes it's Narcissa, Hermione shifts to meet her eyes.
Beneath her nose she can make out fresh blood.
"Oh she's already seen you today has she?" The woman asks, despite knowing the answer.
Slowly, Hermione nods.
Flinging open the doors, something she used to be weary to do, Narcissa piled in and sat down right next to her.
"Here, let me see." She whispered, pulling a handkerchief from her pockets.
Hermione scooted forward a bit, though she winced as her leg scraped along the floor. A few days ago Bellatrix had blasted her with something that threw her up and across the room, hitting her leg squarely on an old stone statue. There was no doubt to her, or Narcissa, that it was broken beyond a point of magical repair.
The brunette tilted her chin as the woman began gently rubbing the blood from her face best she could, mindful of all the cuts and bruises.
"I'm going to be honest with you." Narcissa whispers after a moment.
Hermione's brown eyes widen at her words, scared for what's to come.
Is this where she says she's done helping me? That she's no longer on my side? Will she curse me? Wait, no. Narcissa has been nothing but kind to me, but yet again-
Her jumbled thoughts don't wander long, as the woman breaks her silence. "It's happening tonight."
Dread builds at the base of Hermione's stomach, but she had a feeling. She should've expected it.
'Someone will die.' That's what he said to her.
This morning even Bellatrix mentioned it.
"Best rest up for tonight Muddy. It'll be killer."
"What?" Narcissa says, taken aback, stumbling a bit.
At this Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, though the motion was a bad idea. The sudden jolts made them burn as one was surely broken and the other terribly bruised. However, she couldn't pay any mind to the pain. Not when those words left her mouth unwillingly.
The first sentence she's managed not to stutter over in weeks.
What the hell is happening to her?
Seeing the look of fear in Narcissa's eyes, she pushed back frantically to the corner. Like a scared animal avoiding lingering prey.
Sensing the fact Hermione was just as confused as she was, Narcissa extended a hand.
"It's okay, I know." She cooed to the crying girl, "it's the curse, you didn't mean it. It's just the curse." She reminds steadily holding out her hand still.
knew that many crucio's can take all sorts of tolls on one's mind. Never did she think it would live in Hermione as some demented form of her sister.
Wanting, no needing, to chase those parts from the girl's head, she croons her on, "tell me something, please. Anything." She departley asks the younger girl, "It'll help you forget about her, please. You won't hear her anymore."
Slowly, Hermione peels her hands from her face and eyes Narcissa with blurry eyes. It takes another comment, but soon, she's gently sliding her palm into the womans.
"That's it dear." She encourages, giving her hand a small squeeze, not wanting to irritate the bruising. "Say something, please." She didn't realize until now that there were tears building up in her own eyes.
'Rest up for tonight Muddy. It'll be killer.'
Hermione's voice echoes in her head. So venomous. So wrong. She needs to erase it from her mind. Not only for the young witch's sanity, but she thinks for her own as well.
"Th-" She starts, sounding as much like herself that she can manage.
"You've got it." The older woman says gently, leaning forward to wipe her hair from her eyes with the hand not holding the brunette's small fragile hand.
"Th-thank y-ou," Hermione says, struggling over the words, but something tells the cell's other occupant she's not done. "N-Narcissa."
The tears burning in her eyes flow down her cheeks. There is nothing she should be thanking her for. It makes her sick even the smallest humane gestures are considered large feats to the now prisoner.
The promise of getting Hermione out of here solidifies more than ever at her words, at these thoughts. At all of it.
She pushes her head into the crook of her neck and speaks softly, "It's Cissy to you dear, it'll always be Cissy." Narcissa drops a small kiss onto her matted hair.
"Ci-Cissy." Hermione repeats softly.
...
Bellatrix stumbles a little in her heels when she lands. There she is meant by two familiar faces, but frowns as one is missing.
"Where is Rabastan?" She asks, annoyed.
"Said he ran into someone from the order, got hit with a natsy curse. He said he'll be fine, but wouldn't be any good here tonight." Greyback exapins, as it was his responsibility to summon the other man.
She curses under her breath, "It'll take me half the time to take whatever wards down, had he come." The witch spits.
Feeling like he needs to make up for his action, the werewolf goes on, "Dolohov will be here."
She turns, brown eyes widening, "Antonin?" The taller man nodded in confirmation, "I thought he was to stay behind. This can become much too personal for him. We must be in and out before anyone from the Order gets wind we've broken the wards." She sounds off in a venomous whisper.
"Yes, but it is my understanding that the Dark Lord himself has allowed Dolohiv to join us tonight in Rabastan's absence."
At the mention of Voldemort's approval she visibly calmed, "Oh, well I understand now. It's for the best anyway, I know Antonin is rather good with counterspells for instances just like these."
As this was all going on Scabior stoof confused, eyeing the two of them funnily. Greyback had approached him earlier that night saying he was needed. For what? He still wasn't sure.
"You." Bellatrix pointed to the mangy man, "Make yourself useful and be sure no one sees us." She demanded.
Fumbling a little, he began the incantation that would hide them from any passerbyers, as well as a silencing charm.
"Should be good miss, do-"
Before he could finish a nearby crack sounded as Dolhov appeared from behind a nearby tree.
"Ah come, to join the party, did you?" She said with a small laugh.
The man had a dark look in his eyes as he eyed the house from a distance.
"The time will come. Soon." She told him, noticing his expression, "for now, help me with the protective charms. They're standard for The Order, nothing you aren't used to. Surely Albus Dumbledore wasn't casting these." Bellatrix said as she pointed her wand to the invisible fence.
Dolohov joined her as he began whispering a few incantations that made small bursts of light emit from the end of his wand. Greyback was perched against a tree whistling to himself, as Bellatrix proceeded to wave her own wand. Scabior however, still had little regard to what was actually happening.
"What are we doing here? Raiding an old Order Member's house?" He asked Greyback what he thought was a quiet whisper.
At this, the werewolf let out a low laugh, "you think they'd send that one," he pointed vaguely to Bellatrix, "for some old wizard?"
He shrugged, "Dunno, this is a muggle neighborhood, didn't reckon he'd send us on a muggle raid, they don't exactly put up a fight."
Having heard the conversation the witch stopped and rounded on him, "these aren't any Muggles, you see." Bellatrix told Scabior cryptically as a curtain of blue light fell, indicating the dropping of the wards.
"I don't understand, miss." He said back, watching her step past where the veil just was with a smile.
"Come, come." She waved the three on, as they stood a little ways behind her. "You see this lovely house here, Scabior?"
He nodded, still unsure of the proper response, "quite nice, I reckon."
"It is, isn't it." She agrees with a hum. The witch speaks again after a moment, "do you know who this house belongs to?"
He eyes Greyback and Dolohov wearily, the pair of them wearing matching grins.
"No Miss, I don't." He told her timidly.
"Well let me tell you," Bellatrix spun around and threw her arms up as if presenting the brick structure, "this house here belongs to Hugo and Jean Granger."
The long haired man thinks on it for a moment, but the name draws no realizations.
"I don't..." he began quietly.
"This house here belongs to Muddy's parents and soon enough," her voice dropped dangerously low, "it's gonna be ours."
I know! I'm sorry! This chapter honestly made me cry reading it.
I hope I can leave you all with the promise we will be having Ron/Hermione scenes next chapter.. kind of…
Here's a preview:
"He'll be alright?" Harry asked for the umpteenth time since being allowed in, making Madame Pomfrey sigh in annoyance.
"He'll be fine. He needs his rest." She fussed over his blankets before turning to face the dark haired boy, "did he hit his knee when he fell?"
Potter thought about it, Ron fell on his bum.
"No, why?" He said after a moment.
"He keeps groaning about his knee." She shrugs, "I"ll mix a pain potion just in case. I'll be right back." Madame Pomfrey says before rushing away.
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