Warning for every chapter: Slavery. Dubious consent. Violence. Mentions of rape. Death. Assault. General gore warnings. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Seventeen
Blinking, Hermione waits for her mind to catch up, standing back in the study with Bellatrix who is currently lying across her desk trying to reach into her bottom drawer. Grumbling, Bellatrix is too busy trying to reach who knows what to notice Hermione is one more back in the room.
"Got you, bastard," Bellatrix grumbles pushing herself back up with a pack of sweets in her hand. "Oh, your back. Anyway, see just me that day."
"And Lady Malfoy," Hermione replies, smiling as Bellatrix rummages around the packet of sweets.
"Oh yes, forgot she came along, all because I broke her bloody broom." Bellatrix huffs picking out only the red sweets. "Honestly, you'd think I'd robbed a kidney with the way she was acting."
"It's confusing,"
"What is, pet?" Bellatrix asks shaking the sweets onto the table, sugar going everywhere.
"Evans, Lily, she said she picked me."
"Guilt, probably." Bellatrix shrugs, frowning at only two red sweets left.
"Guilt?" Hermione probes, moving across the room.
Always a predator, Bellatrix tracks Hermione's movement, sweets forgotten. Heading to the small globe, Hermione twists the lid, the globe opening revealing a secret compartment. Bellatrix is lifting, peering at Hermione's actions.
Common knowledge in the household, Bellatrix has a sweet tooth. So much so, that Bellatrix always instructs the staff to hide any sweets. Restricting herself to only eating a few at a time. It doesn't mean, Bellatrix doesn't go looking, honestly, Hermione thinks the witch just enjoys the hunt.
"Hmm, she was most annoyed when I returned with the wrong servant. Let alone a know it all, I do recall you criticising her runes at one stage."
Stepping back to the witch, Hermione hands the bag of sweets to Bellatrix. Aware the witch always enjoys the red or black sweets, she made sure to hide them. Leaving only the sweets she doesn't enjoy. Accepting the package suspiciously, Bellatrix looks inside, a smile making its way across her face.
"Why would that make her guilty?" Hermione asks.
"Come on pet, your smarter than that. Who do you think told me you knew wandless magic?"
Realisation dawns, Hermione receiving lashings for something, her screams muted. Trying to outsmart the Lady of the house only to be caught out in a lie. It all ended with her being branded, her screams echoing through the house. She was older by that stage, fifteen or sixteen. She can barely remember, not all servants are branded. Only those who their masters hold in high regard, the rest just wear crests on their uniform.
"I thought you figured it out?"
"I had a suspicion, but oh Lily was only too happy to tell me. Jealousy, it's a powerful motivator."
"Jealous of me?"
"Yes, I hadn't long put you in charge of the runes, not Evans's strong point. Made her angry." Bellatrix shrugs, happily chewing on her sweets. "In the end, you became thick as thieves, but it was a rocky start. You could do no right in Evans's eyes. Guilt over her behaviour, she probably wanted to erase her behaviour towards you. Probably started to believe it herself."
A headache, makes her wince as she returns to her desk staring down at the papers tossed across it. Why, why did she lie to herself all these years? Or was she merely just protecting herself, living a fairy tale.
"Ah!" Bellatrix exclaims making Hermione jump. "That's what I was coming to find you for."
Calming her racing heart, Hermione waits for Lestrange to explain further. Hopping from her desk, Lestrange moves across a room, towards her chest, reaching inside, she withdraws a small box.
"I have a job for you," Bellatrix states handing the little box to Hermione.
Slowly, Hermione opens the box, it wouldn't be the first time Bellatrix had pranked her. Leaving some spooky creature inside the box to jump out on her. No, creature this time, although Bellatrix is smirking, most likely remembering her previous actions.
"You know what it is?" Bellatrix asks.
"Yes," Hermione answers unsure biting her lip.
"You know the process?"
"Yes."
"Good, there's a full moon in a month, plenty of time."
"My Lady," Hermione hesitates. "Servants aren't allowed to become Animagus."
"Oh hush," Bellatrix replies waving off her concern. "It's just what we tell you, there's the odd one. I need you to do this, will you?"
"You know I will," Hermione answers frowning at the box.
A finger, curls under her chin, forcing her to look back at Bellatrix who has managed to sneak close. The nail brushing across her cheek.
"I sense hesitancy?" Bellatrix questions.
"What happens if it doesn't work? It's extremely complicated."
"I have every faith you will manage it." A frown. "Still, not convinced?"
"Will I be registered?"
If they don't, she would be hung if she is ever caught, they will hang her. Disapproval, morphs on Bellatrix's face, a tinge of annoyance. Disappointment? Did she imagine that?
"Discreetly, yes it won't do well for the world to know, now, would it?"
"No,"
"Still, you worry."
"I don't want to disappoint."
Clunk. They both jump, wand drawn, Hermione barely manages to push, Lady Lestrange's arm. Bellatrix's spell narrowly misses the top of the servant's head, it burns a hole into the wall. Wide-eyed, the servant trembles in the door scared of the attack, while also trying to balance a multitude of items.
"Merlin's beard Brett," Hermione snaps at the new servant. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No… no sorry. I… Sorry, Lady Lestrange. I just. Sorry Granger, where did you want this setting?"
Counting to ten, Hermione stares at the new servant. Take a deep breath. Turning, she regards the servant with clear disdain. Is this how Lily felt? Or has Hermione chosen poorly for a replacement?
"It's Red Kite," Hermione snaps making the servant flinch. "I am not in the habit of repeating myself."
"I'm sorry…"
"Enough! Second floor, third door. Stack them neatly. This was meant to be done, two hours ago, are you accustomed to tardiness or is it a biohazard of your stupidity?"
"No, it's just such a big house."
"Would you like me to draw you a map?"
"Yes, that would be…"
"Sarcasm Bags, sarcasm. Did you not take a walk as instructed; I gave you half a day to find your bearings?"
"I did, but…"
"But nothing. Tomorrow we will start again, you will walk this house until you can memorise every inch of the building or until your feet bleed. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Why are you still here?"
Fumbling, Bags nods, turning, she nearly loses all the items she's carrying. She scurries out of sight, Hermione wincing as she hears a clang from the hallway. Sighing, Bags had come highly recommended, Hermione will have to speak with the source.
A hand snakes its way around her waist, a chin resting on her shoulder. Bellatrix leaning against Hermione, her free hand twirling Hermione's hair between her fingers.
"There's something about you, pet when you're bossy," Bellatrix whispers. "I enjoy it immensely."
Blushing, Hermione swallows as the hand tightens on her hip. Her thoughts evaporated, always hard to think when the witch is so close. Just an inch, she could just turn her head and capture those lips. Forbidden fruit, it takes everything in her power not to, she doesn't want to ruin the mood.
"What was she carrying, anyway?" Bellatrix queries.
"I don't know." Hermione shrugs with a smile. "I just gave her a list of items around the house to collect."
"Why?"
"It's the quickest way to learn where everything is," Hermione replies.
"The second-floor third room is the bathroom?"
"Yes, it is." Hermione agrees. "She will either return all the items to where she found them, abandon them, or find a third solution. Either way, it will tell me what I'm dealing with."
"Cruel," Bellatrix mutters in amusement. "Genius but cruel."
"It's what you made me do."
"I asked you to find me a potion, I didn't have in the building."
"Exactly. It was a brilliant way for me to get my bearings and explore the manor."
"Hmm, you also returned, however, the next day with the said potion."
"You never stated I couldn't make it."
"No, I suppose not."
"And what did that tell you?" Hermione asks cheekily.
"That I had picked an insolent child who happened to be a know it all." Bellatrix scoffs.
Smiling, Hermione remembers staying up all night making the potion. She enjoyed herself immensely, being in the grand building, with warm carpet under her feet. Disappointed she couldn't find the potion, the only logical thing left to do was make one. Polyjuice if she remembers correctly.
"Although I will say, you have grown more tolerable over the years. Still insolent, but tolerable."
"Tolerable," Hermione smiles, glancing at her mistress. "That is high praise."
"Brazen shit," Bellatrix whispers turning to meet Hermione's gaze. "No longer a child mind."
"No." Hermione agrees eyes flickering to those red lips before returning to black eyes.
"Come," Bellatrix instructs releasing Hermione from her grip.
The word shoots arousal through her body. She keeps her thoughts to herself and removes the scrunched-up paper from the floor. Sealing the balcony doors, she turns her attention to the waiting Lady Lestrange.
"You can tuck me in," Bellatrix smirks as Hermione steps past her.
"Here's me thinking you were going to hang me from the ceiling." Hermione chuckles, hissing as hex rushes through her body.
A hand pressing at the base of her neck, tight, not enough to hurt or mark, a gentle reminder she is poking a dragon. Stifling a laugh, Hermione looks innocently at her mistress.
"Brazen shit," Bellatrix mutters, giving Hermione a small shove.
A week, she's already regretting having a mandrake leaf in her mouth. Mentally preparing for the unknown, is also driving her crazy. What animal will she become? Will, she even manage to become an animagus? If skeeta can do it, I most certainly can.
It also excites her, new magic, she has spent most of the days researching. Looking into anything that mentions Animagus, preparing herself. She could become anything; it will be interesting to see.
"What is wrong with your Red Kite?" the clipped voice brings her back to the present.
Blinking, Hermione is aware Lestrange, and Mrs Yaxley are both looking at her. Blushing, she makes herself busy by refreshing their drinks. Smirking, Bellatrix is very much aware of what is bothering Hermione. Topping up their lemonade, Hermione steps back from the table.
During an afternoon tea in the gardens, Mrs Yaxley is fresh from forced rehab, and Hermione isn't sure if the witch is any better. She seems more coherent potentially there are no more bags under her eyes. Nor is she twitching as much as she used to. She is, however, still easily wound, easily triggered.
"I've spoken to Cissy," Andromeda continues selecting one of the sandwiches. "She's quite happy, but obviously, we would love you to come along."
"I will see," Bellatrix replies, reserved.
Hermione waits for the outburst, for Andromeda to throw a tantrum. She cannot help but tense, the words would usually trigger the witch. Today, however, it seems Andromeda is unfazed by the reply, simply focused on her sandwich, she takes a bite. Dabbing at her lips with her napkin.
"I will book you a seat, in the of a chance, you will be available. I understand you are busy, but it is the Quidditch world cup, would be a shame to miss the final." Selecting a cake, Andromeda sets it aside for afterwards. "It is not for a few weeks yet."
Taking a sip of her lemonade, Bellatrix regards her sister with scrutiny. It will take more than a nice afternoon tea to win back her sister's trust. Andromeda, surely aware of this, will continue to worm her way back into her sisters' graces. Hermione doesn't envy the witch, a hard task if there ever is one.
"Your birthday is soon," Andromeda continues undisturbed by Bellatrix's lack of response. "Will you be hosting?"
"No," Bellatrix answered picking a sandwich. "I believe Cissy, is throwing me a surprise party."
"Not much of a surprise, then you have always hated surprises."
"Hmm, it's pointless, but Cissy does love her parties."
Parties, Hermione is grateful, that the party will not be held at the manor. The amount of planning that goes into each step is tiring. A part of her is disappointed they won't be holding the party for Lady Lestrange here. To celebrate.
The sun beating down on them, Hermione flexes her shoes, wincing. She's going to have to search in the house for some different shoes. These are too tight, every night she is ending up with blisters.
"Shall we take a walk?" Andromeda asks.
"If you like," Bellatrix answers.
"Brilliant, let me fetch my umbrella."
Rolling her eyes, Lestrange rises from the table, as Andromeda moves to her servants. It's been a long time since Mrs Yaxley has brought a servant with her to Lestrange manor. Normally she arrives alone, she must be trying to make a good impression. Wincing, Hermione shifts her foot, watching as Mrs Yaxley demands her umbrella from the male servant.
"Mandrake Leaf?" Lestrange asks pushing her chair in.
"I keep choking on it." Hermione answers.
A snort from the witch, clearly amused with the reply. Hermione rolls her eyes, Bellatrix is very much a child at times.
"What's wrong with your feet?" Bellatrix questions looking down at Hermione's feet.
"Nothing, mistress."
"Liar, liar." Bellatrix taunts. "I'm just itching to hex someone, don't test my patience."
"My shoes, my Lady. They are tight, I just need to search the manor for replacements."
Andromeda reappears umbrella over one shoulder blocking out the sun. She smiles, the very action making Hermione uncomfortable.
"Shall we?" Andromeda asks her servant, stepping in place.
The whole scene makes Hermione feel uncomfortable. Distraction. The word bounces around in her mind like a hex is causes her body to twitch. Stepping past, the two sisters, Hermione moves to Colin who is waiting to clear the table. He greets her with a smile, which forces one out of her in turn.
"Granger," He greets respectfully.
"Fetch Locks and Raywood," Hermione instructs him quietly. "tell them to meet me on the turn around the garden. Now."
"Of course,"
He scurries out of sight, as Hermione returns to her mistress's side. Following at a respectful distance, Hermione watches the sisters as they chatter. Well as Andromeda discusses everything from Quidditch, the weather and her recent recovery.
"Honestly, Corban has been quite supportive during this." Andromeda continues.
Most likely, because Yaxley doesn't want his wife to embarrass him more than she already has. Spotting the approaching servants, Hermione steps to greet them. They nod their head in greeting, curious as to why they have been summoned. Both witches and wizards part of the security for the manor, they usually work out of sight.
"Granger," Locks greets, the scar on his face more pronounced in the sun. "Everything okay?"
"I need to check something," Hermione replies. "I don't want Lady Lestrange left in Mrs Yaxley's presence alone. Is that understood?"
An uneasy look passes between them. Lestrange will notice the security, will notice the change. Will not be pleased regarding the shift, but Hermione will take the brunt of her annoyance.
"I will answer any questions the Lady of the house may have. But you will be her shadow until I return, is that understood? Regardless of if she tells you to leave, you will not leave her side. Or so help me, what she does to you will pale in comparison to what I will do. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good I'll be back shortly."
Moving from the group, Hermione makes her way back to the manor. Once out of sight, she jogs, taking the main stairs two at a time. She should use the servants' stairs, but it's not important right now.
She stops outside a room, a room used mostly for storage. Pushing the door open, Hermione steps inside. Something from the night of the ball doesn't sit right. Having an assassination attempt on her mistress. It doesn't make sense to send only one, not for her mistress. Why did he move out of hiding, perhaps he thought he had the upper hand? Perhaps she spooked him, but none of it makes sense.
Something in this room belongs to her mistress, something she keeps under lock and key. Moving amongst, trunks, and unused furniture, she searches for an item in question. Pausing, she climbs over a love chair.
A trunk, her mistress shoved in here, many moons back. The lock is broken, shattered on the floor, gently she prises the lid open. Empty. Nothing else in the room is disturbed nothing but this small trunk. Did someone steal whatever was inside? No. She recalls now, that she had helped her mistress search for the trunk six months ago. She wanted to move the contents. Gringotts.
They went to Gringotts that day, adding whatever was in the trunk to her vault for safe keeping. Hermione never saw what it was, kept inside another small box under lock and key forever locked inside the Black vault at Gringotts.
"I know, you're curious." Bellatrix states holding the small box in her hand, wand in reach as they journeyed to Gringotts in the early hours of the day. Before Diagon alley opened, a special request. "It's something to do with my sister. It's best for all if we burn the bloody thing, but here we are. Second best."
Swallowing, Hermione studies the imprints of fingers on the dust-covered trunk. Not her fingers, not a man's fingers. Female. A witch. That night of the ball, it was all a distraction, maybe not for the would-be assassin, but it offered the perfect distraction for whoever it was to break into this room. To break open this trunk, luck would have it, that Bellatrix had moved the item recently.
Shutting the door behind her, Hermione jogs back down the stairs, heading to the garden. Breathless she pauses just out of sight of the sisters, stepping forward she acknowledges the two securities. Ignoring the burning gaze from her mistress.
"Are we good?" Locks asks quietly.
"I'll take over, just don't go too far."
He nods, as they both disperse, moving out of sight, but within ears reach. Available, should they be needed. Stepping back to her mistress's side, Hermione smiles reassuringly at the sisters.
"Did I miss something?" Andromeda asks. "While I was away, don't tell me there was another attack?"
"Yes, Granger, did my sister miss something?" Bellatrix questions, angry for being kept in the dark.
"Some houses are on alert," Hermione lies. "There's been some troubling talk, it is best to be proactive in these cases."
"Of course," Andromeda agrees as she turns back to the flowers she was previously studying.
A silent question, the slightest tilt of the head from Lady Lestrange, very much aware of the lie. There has been no such rumour if there had Hermione would have told her mistress already.
"Granger," Bellatrix hisses darkly beneath her breath.
"Please, trust me, I will explain. I promise."
A dissatisfied grunt, not happy but relenting for the time being. Following Andromeda as she discusses the flowers, explaining her grand plan to renovate the gardens at her house.
"Do you still paint, Bella?" Andromeda enquires.
"No, not for some time."
"You need to find a muse," Andromeda answers. "It will inspire you."
Dark eyes meet Hermione's briefly, moving away just as fast turning back to Andromeda. They continue their walk, heading back to the house. Her mistress growing antsy, not one for small talk. Surely Andromeda is only doing this to wind up Bellatrix, perhaps she is doing everything in her power to prove she is healed.
It takes another hour for Andromeda to get the hint that the day is over. Gushing over the lovely day even as Bellatrix guides her to the door. A promise to continue another date. Slam. The door shuts with a tired sigh, from the oldest Black sister. Turning, Lestrange regards the waiting Hermione.
"Well? What was with dumb and dumber earlier?" Bellatrix demands.
"Should we move somewhere more private?" Hermione asks, glancing around the empty hall, there may not be anyone here, but it doesn't mean none of the staff could be listening.
"It's not as though they can anything is it? I'm tired, now spill before I keep my promise and hex the next living thing."
"The Ball," Hermione answers, shuffling awkwardly. "It reminded me of the ball. That night, I was not alerted when Mrs Yaxley arrived. I knew of all the other guests, but my runes did not alert me to Mrs Yaxley. It also made me realise, that I did not feel Lady Malfoy either, I had seen her arrive, but I don't remember feeling her presence."
"So?" Bellatrix questions.
"It's hard to explain, how the runes work, however, the runes are to react to people arriving in the manor. The only ones it doesn't react to are you. I will know when you're here, but the Runes will always react to anyone entering the grounds be it friend or foe, the ruins will react. That night, they were silent, but the magic placed upon the invites was similar in the way they work."
"Granger, just speak plainly I am tired of talking about plants as it is."
"The only way for someone to break into this house that night would have… They would need your blood or a similar."
"Similar?"
"Like a sister."
"You think one of my sisters tried to have me assassinated?" Bellatrix questions, curved wand, twitching.
"The assassination was a distraction, the trunk upstairs, the one you were using before moving the item to Gringotts. Has been broken into."
Flinching, Hermione closes her eyes as Bellatrix moves. Waiting for the slap, blinking, Lestrange is gone. Heels clicking on the stairs, cursing Hermione jogs to the servants' steps, rushing to meet her mistress in the storage room.
Breathless, Hermione slides to a stop outside the storage room, Bellatrix already standing next to the trunk. The broken lock on the ground, untouched. Furious, Bellatrix is furious, hand tapping, chest heaving the witch is barely containing her anger.
Swallowing, Hermione holds her hands together, patient, not daring to speak. Waiting for Lestrange to say something. Stepping aside, Hermione allows the witch to pass as she exits the room.
"When did you learn this?" Bellatrix demands.
"While Mrs Yaxley was here. It just came to me." Hermione answers, trailing after Bellatrix. "Am I right?"
"Enough," Bellatrix snaps hotly turning to Hermione. "No more will be said about this, do you understand?"
"Of course," Hermione nods. "Do we still allow…"
"Not a word, Granger." Lestrange hisses holding up her hand. "This conversation is done. I'll take my tea in the study, I have work."
"Of course."
Biting her lip, Hermione watches the dark witch skulk away towards her study. Flinching as the door slams. Slowly, Hermione takes the steps back down to the ground floor, flinching. The sound of smashing is unmistakable, the house shakes, and her runes wobble, making her gasp. Can feel the heat scorching the walls of the study.
Door opening, Angelina appears looking worriedly towards the stairs, towards the part of the house that is currently shaking. Rubbing her hands together, Hermione considers going back up to her mistress, but that will be a death sentence.
"Do I want to know?" Angelina asks.
"No," Hermione sighs. "She will take her tea in her study."
"Are you taking it to her?" Angelina questions.
"I don't think she will want to see me today. Send an elf. It's safer for everyone."
"Sure, where you going"
Angelina calls as Hermione heads away, towards the hidden room that belonged to Lily. She waves the witch off, moving out of sight. The defence against the Dark Arts books on the shelf call to her, they have been whispering to her. The knowledge is just within reach she cannot resist them anymore.
The Lost Memoirs
There's a sickness in the air,
The banners are flying,
Eager, you are all so eager.
Hang him, hang him
All eyes on you.
The noose is tight, the rope primed
There's a sickness in the air.
Look around you, so eager
So eager for blood.
The children are cheering,
Money is flowing.
Hang him, Hang him.
The servant, his just a child.
No older than thirteen
His crying, begging for mercy
The servants,
We know.
We bow our heads,
His just a child.
Punished for embarrassing his Lord.
There's a sickness in the air
It's contagious
The crowd is cheering.
His swinging in the wind.
The children are clapping.
There's an anger in the air,
You are too foolish, to see it.
You cannot see it.
Because the sickness is ripe.
You are all sick.
You are the sickness.
In the Air
Silent Soul