A/n: Thank you everyone who is reviewing, following and favouriting. I love reading your ideas and responses, we are heading full steam to the end of the story. Hold on to your hats, it's going to start going off the rails.
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 Twenty-Four
A tingle runs through her wrist, straining, the sweat drips down her back and a groan. Kicking the floor, she paces the book Transfiguration – The Five Elements. Frustration, it's becoming more common these days as the headaches grow. Only a few more days until she runs away with Luna.
Every morning she wakes, wondering if this will be the day she will find out if Angelina has run away. Every day she waits for a letter from Luna, telling her the plan is off. She waits for the disappointment, except it has yet to come. Their correspondence was normal, Luna low-key excited not wanting to give anything away in their letters.
Sighing, Hermione stares at the book, frustrated. The Defence against the dark arts book pushed aside for the stolen Transfiguration book. It makes no sense, how can she easily learn new spells for Defence, learn to become an animagus, but struggle over basic transfiguration.
Her transfiguration is excellent, so why is she struggling so much with these basic spells?
Disregard all your training on Transfiguration, it is not needed here. Five elements are all you need to comprehend the enormity of this magic. An understanding of runes will serve you well together I will teach you, how to wield this magic.
It's easier said than done, according to the book, the way she's holding her wand is wrong. Okay. Okay. Stop. We think too much, that's what Lady Lestrange says. We're meant to forget everything we know, so let's try this again.
Stepping forward, Hermione tries to clear her mind, her frustration. Placing her wand down, she goes back to basics, as though she has never held a wand before. Ignoring her previous studying goes against everything in her nature. Regardless, she fights the urge to fall into old habits, focusing on the book.
Many wizards and witches make the simple mistake of holding their wand, incorrectly. They clutch to their wand as though holding their mother's hand. Scared, desperate for security. Pitiful.
Do not clutch your wand. Do not hold onto fear. Your wand should become as though another limb, it should be part of you and you a part of it. See the diagrams, holding the wand in such a position, your wrist will begin to ache. It will stop the flow of magic, you must become entuned. Imagine, if you will, flowing water, a stream. Water cannot go upstream, holding your wand in such a way, will affect its use. Will affect your magic. After a time when you grow older, your hand, and your wrist will begin to strain. Hold the wand in this position, your future self will thank you.
It feels foreign, strange, holding her wand in her hand, so loosely. Held loosely between her thumb and middle finger, her index finger keeping it secure. She drops the wand multiple times. For the last few days, when alone she has been practising holding her wand as the diagram shows.
I expect failure from you. It is the course of understanding greatness. If you cannot accept your failure, then you cannot expect to learn. Stop reading, I have no time for you.
Now all you need is a cup. Place it upon a table, and keep your back straight, bad posture is a show of poor training. Do not tense, you must become a vessel for the magic within. Feet shoulder width apart. Now take your time. You are just a sapling, learning, growing. There is nothing but you and the cup. Forget the world around you, forget your problems. There is no time for memories. Clutch the emotion, there is no magic without emotion. Do not hide, do not bulk. Emotion is the key to life.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione tunes out the noise of the house above. Focusing entirely on the grey cup sitting on the desk, forgetting about the room. The history of the room, Lily's office, the memories of finding the letter. Pushed aside. The fear, the anxiety of Luna changing her mind. The terror that she may leave Lestrange's manor, may leave Lady Lestrange behind.
The memories she forces aside, the cup and her breathing are her only focus right now. The emotions she allows them to run free, the shake in her hand, the anxiety, the pounding of her heart, the deep breaths. Fear lingers, clings to her, the fear of abandonment. Focusing solely on the small cup.
A touch, a ghost of a feeling across her skin, her runes moving. A pulse, she can feel them pulsing. Normally she only notices them when she's angry, it's a relief to feel them when her mind is clear.
"Fiera."
A shiver runs through her body, a spell shoots from the end of her wand the cup shifts, neither moving nor changing. Calm, it falls across her body, the frustration still there, but it rages quietly. Her emotions she can feel but instead of being a puppet on their string, she watches from the audience. Studying the raging emotion.
Lowering her wand, she steps to the book. Self-doubt lingers, perhaps she does require the magic needed to perform. Flicking the page perhaps it's best to move on maybe this spell is not meant for her.
Are you disappointed? Does the cup remain? Unharmed? Unchanged? Yes? Excellent. What of yourself, do you hear the noise in your head, are your emotions still in control. Is your mind silent? Do you hear the quietness? If yes, congratulations, reach for your cup. Fill it with your favourite drink and cheer for yourself. You have completed the first lesson in understanding.
Confused, Hermione lifts the undamaged cup so the spell doesn't affect anything? More confused than ever, she returns to the book, is this the reason why the book was destroyed. Because it was useless.
I imagine you to be confused, I would be concerned if you were not. The spell, Fiera, is very powerful, you may not think so at this stage. You have managed to ground yourself, the emotions that rule us daily. With practice will become controllable, you will harness them and in doing so will harness magic beyond your comprehension. Try again if you will. This time, listen to the world, listen to the emotions, and let your memories flow. Cast the spell once more. Ensure you are alone, in the open, the spell should not be cast inside.
Curious, Hermione plucks the cup from the table, pausing, she checks her runes to see if her mistress has returned home. Nothing, hiding the book from view, she locks the door behind her as she journeys into the garden. Lestrange manor stands on top of the hill, a poignant reminder of status for all those who travel by. Surrounded by a thousand acres of land she heads towards the lake. Away from prying eyes, she doesn't believe the book not wholly, but she is curious.
Stopping, Hermione places the cup down on a rock, in front of the lake, stepping away. Frowning, she allows the noise to rush over her, the wind high, bringing the noise of London. The birds chirping, the crickets and the dogs are barking. She can hear the clanging from the kitchen, the shouting of voices, and the servants at work. Being a fox has heightened her hearing and the smell around her. It's overwhelming, the gardenia flowers, the smell of fresh bread. The tinge in the air, the wind carrying the heavy scent of disappointment from London.
Memories of the institute, the sound of London feeding her memories. When she was young she could hear the mines, the factories, and the black smoke. The fear reminded them that despite the institute being hell on earth it is better than what awaits them outside the walls of the building.
The fear, the anxiety, it crawls across her skin, Luna her smile, her laugh. The energy of the witch, the anxiety if the witch changes her mind. Lestrange, the fear of disappointing her mistress, the fear of being hunted down. The fear of missing her mistress.
The emotions of everyday life, it washes through her, she almost wishes for the silence that she had just experienced. Wand held aloft, loose in hand, she can barely focus on the cup.
"Fiera."
Her eyelids flutter, her toes curl, and the air leaves her lungs. Pop. The air around her explodes the force throws her backwards. The ground shakes, and the noise is unbearable until it all stops.
Gasping, she pushes unsteadily to her feet, collecting her wand. The cup remains, frozen in place on the rock. Oh god. Swallowing, trees have toppled, the ground burning, and the air is thick, as though the oxygen has left. The force of the spell has imprinted the ground, with enough force it has affected the lake. The flowing water changing, shifting, more than a thousand years of evolution ever could.
Oh crap.
With the sound of shouting the servants of the house rushed out to see what the commotion was. Turning, Hermione casts the spell taught to her by Lestrange, she abandons the cup. Transforming into a fox, she scarpers darting into the foliage nearby narrowly avoiding the servants.
She changes back out of sight, back pressed against the side of the manor she calms her racing heart. Checking she has managed to transform with clothes, she smooths down her robes, checking for any onlookers.
Calming her features, she heads out to the commotion. It would appear odd if she did not investigate. Pushing through the gawping servants, she moves to the front of the crowd. Ignoring the muttering of the servants, Hermione stops near the cup acting as confused as the rest of the servants.
"An attack?" One whispers.
"Should we alert Lady Lestrange?" Creevy asks.
"An omen."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione steps forward, she needs to stop any rumours, before they grow out of control. Spotting chard remains of a rock, still burning, too hot to touch, she smiles to herself.
"A meteorite," Hermione states calmly, preventing an eager servant from touching the stone. "Unless you want to burn your hands. I recommend not touching it. Back to work everyone, it's just a rock."
Grumbling, in disappointment, the servants file back to the house. Hoping for more excitement, Hermione collects the cup, hoping no one will question why a cup was out in the middle of the grounds.
"Never seen a meteorite do that much damage," Marcus questions walking back with Angelina to the house.
"Tell that to dinosaurs."
Smirking, Hermione, backs away from the destruction, scurrying back to the room. Back to the book. Flicking to the right page, her shaking fingers trace the words.
To avoid questions, ensure you are in private, where no one will see you or the evidence of the spell.
Mumbling under her breath, Hermione berates herself for not reading the rest of the paragraph. Too excited she rushed from the room.
To fully understand Transfiguration, one must learn to centre themselves. To find understanding, to understand your boundaries, we must be practised, we cannot become great from the will alone. We must train, create a routine and remain patient. Rushing leads to foolishness, and foolishness leads one to the path of carelessness.
Fiera is the combination of all five elements. Used by one element it is harmless, uncontrolled it is dangerous. Mastering the five elements will teach you to wield this spell and many others with the caution it deserves.
Congratulations, if you have not killed yourself or those you love you have completed the first step. Control. This is but the beginning of your education, with continued practice you are on your way to understanding the first element. Earth.
~Paint It, Black ~
Thundering, the ground is shaking, the vibrations beneath her feet. The stands are full of supporters, the roaring of the crowd, the cheering. The excitement is palatable in the air, flags flying in support of both teams. Black flags fly in all directions, some decorated with the scarlet bat and the others decorated with the white magpies.
"Changed your mind I see," Mrs Yaxley greets.
Stepping into the private viewing platform, Lady Lestrange rolls her eyes as she removes her cloak. Handing it to Hermione, who hangs it out the way. Taking the spare seat, Lady Malfoy raises her glass of tea in greeting to her sister.
"It's what happens when one is blackmailed," Lestrange comments slinking into the vacant seat.
"Oh Cissy, you didn't," Mrs Yaxley chuckles glancing at the youngest sister.
"Don't act so surprised, how often do we get a chance to be together for this?" Lady Malfoy replies casually.
"Very true, we have been following the Montrose Magpies since we were young," Andromeda states, reaching for biscuits. "It's nice to see them at the final."
"Hmm," Lestrange comments watching Hermione pour her tea. "I had to reorganise a meeting to be here."
"Oh stop whining," Malfoy comments. "It's our favourite team, it's important to be here."
"Although," Andromeda starts casually. "I did bet on the Ballycastle bats that they would be the winners."
"Obviously," Lady Malfoy chuckles. "Supportive but not foolish."
"Father would be proud," Lestrange smirks into her cup. "I bet on the Magpies."
"Bella, please they haven't won against the Bats in years."
"I'm hopeful, an optimist, Cissy,"
"When did that happen?" Andromeda snarks.
"Shush you."
Moving out of view, Hermione folds her hands behind her backs, listening to the sisters bicker. Studying the pitch, feeling the excitement build. She does enjoy coming to Quidditch matches. Her mistress was too interested in the game to require any assistance. It means Hermione also gets to watch the game. Especially from one of the best viewing platforms can buy.
"A meteorite?" Mrs Yaxley questions.
"That's right," Lady Lestrange comments shifting in her seat. "Moved the bloody lake."
"How unusual."
Resisting the urge to move, Hermione focuses ahead, not showing any emotion. Thankfully, everyone at the Manor believed the story of a meteorite, after all, what else could it be? She keeps her recent activity to herself, and cannot trust anyone with the information on her extra curriculum.
"I need to use the lady's room, don't eat my sandwiches," Andromeda warns her sisters.
Sweeping from the room, Hermione wonders if it's weird for Bellatrix to be around her sisters. Both sisters could be responsible for the attack, either sister could be the one who tried to kill Bellatrix.
"She seems better," Lady Malfoy murmurs staring after her sister.
"If you say so." Is the short reply,
"Bella, she's still sober," Malfoy continues.
"I just don't want you getting your hopes up."
"Is it so bad if I do? Bella, she's your sister, our sister, she needs our support now more than ever. The first year is the hardest. We need to be a supportive unit."
"Cissy," Bellatrix sighs, looking to the youngest sister.
"No, I won't listen to it. She's doing incredibly well, can you for once put your difference aside. It was me and Andy, the moment you went off to Hogwarts, she was there for me. By the time I started Hogwarts you were moving on. She's always been there for me. Whatever happened between you, father and Andy is in the past."
"It's not that simple," Bellatrix replies.
"It can be. Please, Bella, for me can you just try."
"I am trying. If I were nicer, it'll make her suspicious. I am being tolerable. What else would you have me do? Skip through the park with her?"
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I came tonight, didn't I?"
"You made it sound like I forced you."
"Cissy, there is a lot of water under the bridge between Andromeda than I. She knows me too well to know if I am pretending. I invited her for a stupid afternoon tea, now I'm wasting my time at this. If I do more than that, she will know I am faking it."
"You scared she will relapse, that she will disappoint you."
The knuckles tighten, the jaw sets and the dark eyes observe the blonde witch. Hermione shifts, out of sight, not many can call Bellatrix a coward and live to tell the tale.
"Maybe," Bellatrix admits. "I have been down this road several times. Perhaps, I just do not want to be disappointed once more."
"She's our sister."
"And I care dearly," Bellatrix sighs. "I'm not sure I have anything left to give. She is the reason, I will only trust someone once. Betray that trust, they become dead to me."
"She's been hanging around with some questionable people."
The words are like an arrow to Hermione's heart, biting her lip, she tries not to think about what her actions will soon cause. Running away with Luna will destroy anything she has with lady Lestrange. Any respect will burn, and death will be the only feasible option should Lestrange catch them.
What of my poems? If Lestrange figures out it's her poems in the papers before she has a chance to run away. She cannot imagine Lestrange's reaction, cannot imagine the pain that will come from disappointing the witch.
"How's Draco?" Bellatrix asks changing the subject.
She cares. The thought strikes her dumb, she always knew Bellatrix was possessive, and protective, however, the witch never shows emotion. Not really, only anger, excitement, never showing any true attachments. With the trust and love she has for her two sisters, they all know Mrs Yaxley has fallen off the wagon more times than she can count. Every time, Bellatrix is the one to send the witch to Rehab.
She always thought it was because, Andromeda was a disappointment, an embarrassment to the family. Always wondered why it was Bellatrix who dealt with Andromeda and sent her to rehab. Because she cares, Lady Malfoy would try to help Mrs Yaxley and when that wouldn't work, she would turn away. Not wanting to deal with the mess that was her sister. Bellatrix is always the bad guy, the sister who sent Andromeda to get help. Forced her into rehab. Because she cares.
Someone in this room orchestrated to kill Bellatrix to serve only as a distraction. Does Bellatrix mean so little to one of her sisters that her death would serve only as a distraction?
Stepping into the room, Mrs Yaxley oblivious to the sisters discussing her, takes her seat. The sisters still discussing Draco, due to recent actions he received honouree graduation from the Academy. Not having to take part in the final exam. Smiling, Hermione is glad to hear, that Draco was spared from the hell of the Academy.
"Guess who I saw." Mrs Yaxley states. "Krum."
"The quidditch star?" Lady Malfoy enquires a glint in her eye.
"Yes, he is rather handsome."
"Isn't he just?"
"Are you two spinsters quite finished?" Bellatrix smirks.
"Speak for yourself."
The bickering only stops when the first team screams onto the pitch, the lights dimming in the stands so the audience can focus solely on the game ahead. The cheering from the crowd, the muttering of the Black sisters, each cheering.
Smiling, Hermione watches the match in silence, fascinated by the sport. She wishes she could play, but that would require being able to fly a broom. Halfway through the match, she tops up all of the cups of tea for the three witches too distracted by the game to realise. Two more days, just two more days before she runs away.
"You cad!" Lady Malfoy snaps at Bellatrix. "How, how did you know the Magpies would win?"
"Me, I'm just a loyal supporter, unlike you turncoats."
Grumbling, Mrs Yaxley is massaging her eyebrows glaring at her receipt for her bets. The Montrose Magpies won, by only eighteen points but they stole the match last second. Much to Lady Malfoy and Mrs Yaxley's astonishment, much to Bellatrix's amusement.
Smiling, Hermione gathers Lady Lestrange's robe, waiting to the side as the witch rises to her feet. Sisters bickering as they prepare themselves for the after-party held only for the Elite.
"Did either of you pay attention to the lineup?" Lestrange asks.
"What of it?" Andromeda groans.
"Their goalkeeper switched out this morning due to injury," Bellatrix informs them. "Said replacement goalkeeper as rumoured is having an affair with one of the beaters. Well, that's what the papers have discussed. As such, it's not hard to imagine said beater would not be that willing to protect the replacement goalkeeper. As such, halfway through the match when the Bats were on their way to victory, the goalkeeper was hit by a bludger. Fair game."
"You cad!" Malfoy snaps. "You didn't think to share this with us?"
"Complacency," Bellatrix shrugs leading the way to the party. "It's a recipe for disaster."
"She probably poisoned the goalkeeper," Andromeda whispers to her Malfoy.
"I heard that," Lestrange growls.
Shaking her head, Hermione trails after the witches, as they descend towards the party. The stands buzzing, the game was amazing, and its a spectacle to watch. A flash of ginger, she spots Ron Weasley laughing with his brothers as they head to the exit.
A shiver runs along her side, dread it tingles, claws at her stomach. Anxiety flares as she listens to the sisters arguing. She hasn't seen Bellatrix this relaxed in the presence of her sisters in a long time. Regardless, Hermione keeps her wand in hand, should either witch make a move on her mistress. I'm going to miss her.
They stop, Lady Lestrange, offering to get drinks for the angry sisters. Trailing after her mistress, Hermione wonders what will happen to Lady Lestrange. Who will take her place? Will the Dark Lord strip Bellatrix of a Red Kite? Will he be lenient, most likely not. No, no, I owe her nothing.
"Three whiskeys," Lestrange orders. "That's just for me, one elvish wine and what did Andromeda want?"
"Cranberry juice," Hermione answers.
"Oh, that. And a glass of lemon juice."
Nodding, the barman rushes to make the drinks not wanting to keep Lady Lestrange waiting. The whiskeys arrive first, Bellatrix swallowing shots of two of the glasses and sliding the empty glasses aside. The cranberry juice was placed on the tray, the barman removed the empty glasses. The fresh lemon juice, plucking the glass from the tray, Bellatrix sniffs the drink. It's curious, never has Bellatrix asked for Lemon juice before, if memory serves her right, the witch doesn't enjoy the drink.
"Here," Lestrange offers to pass the drink to Hermione.
Confused, Hermione accepts the drink, is she meant to carry it separately.
"To drink," Lestrange instructs.
"Oh, thank you," Hermione mutters.
It's cold and refreshing, she hadn't realised how parched her throat had become. She drinks half of it in one go. Wiping her lips, the barman apologises, rushing off to the cellar to find a bottle of elvish wine. Rolling her arms, Lestrange swigs the last whiskey signalling the barmaid to refill it while she waits.
"Far too sober for this shit," Lestrange grumbles.
"It was an amazing match," Hermione comments not looking at her mistress.
"It was, wasn't it." Lestrange nods with a smirk.
Laughter, it's high pitched, followed by a snort. She would recognise that laugh anywhere. Luna. Swallowing, Hermione shifts, trying to be emotionless clutching her glass and searching the crowd for Luna. Groaning, Lestrange leans against the bar, rolling the glass around in her hand, playing with the ice cube.
Hermione wants to see Luna but fears the witch being near Lady Lestrange. She had forgotten Luna was attending the game, she should have looked out for her. The ice cube stops moving, the hand growing rigid against the glass. Eyes narrow, jaw setting, the tinniest tick of Lestrange's vein.
Lestrange has spotted Luna, scanning the crowd faster Hermione tries to see Luna. The laugh grows closer, Lestrange no longer reclined against the bar, rising to her full height. There's a fury, quiet, bubbling beneath the surface, Luna walking into a lion's trap.
She sees the dress before she realises it's Luna. The colours a beacon amongst the dark robes, hair up, Luna appears all laughs. Heading straight towards Hermione, not looking, not realising.
Clearing her throat, Hermione gains the attention of her mistress, but the action alerts Luna. The feet slow, realisation dawning on the witch as she comes to a stop a few feet from the bar, from Lady Lestrange.
"Lady Lestrange," Luna greets her voice cracking eyes darting to Hermione.
Fear, it's evident on Luna's face, her body growing rigid. Forcing a smile, Hermione bows her head respectfully, flinching as a hand rests on Hermione's shoulder. The thumb digging in out of sight. Kind blue eyes, clouding, studying the hand.
"Lovegood." Lestrange greets almost pleasantly. "Nott."
Blinking, Hermione hadn't noticed the wizard next to Luna, failed to notice Luna's arm hooked through his. A smile, a hand offered Nott oblivious to the atmosphere offers his hand to Bellatrix.
"Lady Lestrange, it's an honour to see you tonight," He smiles as Lestrange stares at the hand in disdain. Undisturbed, he lowers his hand still smiling. "I see you already met my fiancée, Luna."