A/N: I have returned! It feels so nice to be working on all three of my stories. It feels especially nice to be able to upload new chapters! Keep your eyes open for another update, or follow the story so you don't have to, whatever you want. I plan to start the next chapter as soon as this one is posted, but I also have other stories to write for, so it might take longer than I expect (It almost always does). Lucky for you all I have until the beginning of January to do nothing, so I will be thinking about my three stories and doing my best to get those thoughts fully developed into chapters. I hope you're all doing well, and if you feel like it, leave a review so I can maybe do better!
Hope you enjoy!
The first few weeks of classes were chaotic for Hermione. Transfer students were uncommon, so several people from outside her house clamored for her attention. Mostly, they were Hufflepuffs, but occasionally they were Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors were curious but wary of her because she was sorted into Slytherin. Truthfully, she didn't mind that they left her alone. She barely paid them any mind, focusing mostly on enjoying her first normal year at Hogwarts, and the heavy schedule she shared with Bellatrix.
It wasn't until a Transfiguration lesson toward the end of October that a Gryffindor interacted with her. Molly Prewett had caught a glance of the scar on her arm when her sleeve rode up while they were in line. Hermione hadn't even noticed that the glamour had worn off until she heard the soft gasp behind her and pulled her sleeve down, determined not to turn around. She hoped if she pretended she hadn't noticed, Molly wouldn't say anything.
"Shame that you were sorted into Slytherin," she whispered, "They're right foul."
Hermione did her best to ignore it, noticing the subtle stiffening of Bellatrix's shoulders in front of her.
"Especially the Blacks," she continued, sneering at Bellatrix's back, "I don't know how you manage to be in the same house and feel safe."
"Why's that?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp as she turned to face her with a glare.
Molly scoffed. "They hate anyone who's less than pureblood."
"And, as a pureblood, I'm sure that's your concern," Hermione replied, squaring her shoulders.
"I'm not like other purebloods, that's why I'm in Gryffindor," she said, huffing when Hermione turned back around and ignored her.
Bellatrix did her best to pretend she didn't hear the hushed conversation behind her as they waited their turn. She thought about what she might transfigure the object to be. She had no idea what it would be when she approached, it would depend on what the person in front of her did. She tried to pick something, but her attention kept drifting to Hermione and Molly. They had fallen silent as they approached the front of the room, not wanting to get in trouble with McGonagall. Bellatrix praised the peace. Part of her was curious as to what Hermione's response would be and part of her didn't want to know.
Before she was ready, it was Bellatrix's turn. On the floor in front of her was a poorly formed iron hippogriff. Bellatrix grimaced at the sorry excuse of an attempt at Transfiguring metal, waving her wand to create what she wanted. She had the choice to perform wordless or wandless magic, and she generally chose wordless only for the more intense spells. As soon as she was finished, a gold replica of Hogwarts replaced the hippogriff.
"Excellent detail, Miss Black, five points to Slytherin," McGonagall announced, earning groans from the Gryffindors.
Hermione observed the scale model with a smile, admiring the ins and outs of Bellatrix's work. She wasn't sure what to make. Her hands stayed in her pockets and she stood still for so long, McGonagall almost sent her to the end of the line. Then she noticed the slight furrow of Hermione's brow, the only indication that she was casting any spell. She didn't utter a single word or even move to draw her wand. Normally, only seventh years attempted simultaneous wordless and wandless magic, especially this early in the school year. The students watched in awe as Bellatrix's gold castle became a rose with copper petals and a praseodymium stem.
Minerva blinked in surprise at the display. Not only had she not used a wand or uttered a spell, but she had also transfigured one metal into two different ones. Bellatrix looked at Hermione in awe. She wasn't even sure if she could do transfiguration that advanced, certainly not without a wand or verbal spells.
"Very well done, Miss Granger. A simple but delicate object with two metals. Ten points to Slytherin," she announced, gesturing for the next in line.
Molly glared at her as she moved out of line to sit next to Bellatrix.
Bellatrix offered her a smile, whispering, "That was incredible."
"Thanks," Hermione whispered back, "I came up with it on the spot. Prewett distracted me."
"I heard. Don't let it get to you," she mumbled, leaning her head against her hand.
"Like you pretend not to let it get to you," Hermione teased quietly.
McGonagall shot them a look, and Bellatrix let her response die before it left her lips. While they waited for their remaining peers to finish, Hermione placed the glamour back over her scar. She had caught Bellatrix's glance at it as it faded. The sight of it still made Bellatrix slightly sick and a weight settled in her gut.
"You okay?" Hermione whispered softly.
Bellatrix nodded weakly, forcing herself to look away from Hermione's now-covered arm. "Yeah."
Hermione's expression made it clear she didn't believe her but she didn't push the issue because McGonagall had sent them another warning look. They looked down at the table until they were dismissed. Molly shouldered Bellatrix as she passed, sending a nasty look back at them.
"Watch it, Black," she sneered.
"Piss off," Bellatrix grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Hermione looked between them as they stared each other down, unsure of what exactly was happening between them. Before it escalated, she prompted Bellatrix to move. She complied but kept her gaze locked on Molly's. Hermione continued pushing Bellatrix to walk until Molly grabbed her arm firmly.
"You should watch yourself," Molly warned, digging her fingers into Hermione's arm, "No one is safe around that family. Especially if they aren't purebloods."
She snatched her arm away, straightening her back and looking her dead in the eyes. "I'd be more concerned about your grades if I were you, Prewett."
"All I need to be good at is being a wife," she scoffed.
"Then all you need to learn is how to mind your own business," Hermione retorted, turning away.
Bellatrix wasn't there when she turned, and a pang of disappointment shot through her. She shook it off, propelling herself to the Common Room. If she were in Bellatrix's position, she wouldn't want to stick around, either. She sighed, adjusting her bag by the strap and quickening her pace. The exchange didn't sit well with her and she was concerned for Bellatrix but she also wanted to be away from Molly. She'd never pictured her to be so spiteful, but clearly, there was something else that had happened between her and Bellatrix. She didn't want to pry, but she was curious.
"Narcissa," Hermione panted, seeing the young blonde on the couch in the Common Room.
"Hi, 'Mione," she said with a bright smile. It quickly faded when she noticed the concerned way the brunette looked around. "What's wrong?"
"Have you seen Bellatrix?" she asked, still glancing around the Common Room.
Narcissa shook her head, "Didn't you just have class with her?"
"Yeah," Hermione breathed, turning back the way she came.
Her bag banged against her side as she sped through the corridors. She could only think of one other place Bellatrix would go. She had never felt like the Room of Requirement was so far away. She weaved through the crowds of students, pushing through some of them and throwing apologies distractedly behind her. Some of her housemates tried to talk to her but she just waved as she passed, not letting anyone slow her down. Finally, she had reached the 7th floor. She had no idea if it would even show to her, but she was determined to try.
Bellatrix cast spell after spell at the training dummy in front of her, knocking it back each time it rolled forward. Molly fucking Prewett could eat a hex. She had no idea what she had ever done to the girl, and though she had no desire to be friends, she could do without the unadulterated hatred. What did she know, anyway? She didn't know Bellatrix, she had no reason to hold a grudge that personal. With a cry of frustration, Bellatrix threw a spell at the dummy, letting herself collapse to her knees. She knew Hermione would come looking for her and she didn't want to seem so out of control. She leaned against the wall with her knees up, draping her arms loosely around them and letting her wand dangle from her hand. Several deep breaths later, she was feeling more like herself.
Hermione had to pace the corridor a few times before the door showed up. She didn't care, she would've walked back and forth for as long as it took. The door's appearance was a relief, and Hermione let out a breath when she noticed it. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she pushed it open. The room looked the way it had when she would practice with Bellatrix's ghost after dinner. She wasn't surprised, she knew Bellatrix trained when she felt out of control.
"Bellatrix?" she asked, gently tossing her bag to the floor by the wall, kneeling in front of her, "Are you okay?"
"Hey," she responded lamely, inwardly facepalming.
Hermione smiled, chuckling breathlessly. "Hey, you."
"Sorry for leaving you with Prewett." Bellatrix chewed her lip awkwardly. "I hate being around her."
"It's okay. I don't blame you. What happened to make her hate you?" Hermione placed her hand on Bellatrix's wrist, squeezing it reassuringly.
She shrugged, trying to fight the fluttering in her stomach at the contact. "No idea. Our families aren't that close so I really haven't even interacted with her much."
"Well, she doesn't matter."
"Are you- are you okay?" Bellatrix asked, cursing herself for stuttering. She was Bellatrix Black, she never stuttered while talking to a peer.
Hermione shrugged with a slight smile. "I've had worse. I know that dummy isn't a great opponent, so how about a duel with someone who can fight back?"
"Is that a challenge?" she questioned with a smirk, looking up into brown eyes.
"Only if you think you can handle it," Hermione responded with a wink. She moved her hand from Bellatrix's wrist, holding it out for her to take.
Bellatrix placed her hand in Hermione's, ignoring the way her heart flipped. "Are you implying that I can't handle myself?"
"Not entirely," she teased, pulling the other witch to her feet.
The laugh that left Bellatrix made Hermione's heart soar and she awkwardly pulled her hand from Bellatrix's, immediately missing the warmth. She pushed it down, drawing her wand and moving back several paces. They bowed to each other, holding it slightly longer than usual. Their spells collided in midair, both of them cast wordlessly. Bellatrix had never felt a rush like she did now. Dueling with Hermione was like dancing, both of them moving around each other's spells as they sent their own. Reading Hermione's moves came so naturally that it felt like she was leading them in a dance. Even after they had disarmed each other, they were still dueling, more than capable of using wandless magic.
Bellatrix used the opportunity to practice simultaneous wordless and wandless magic. For the most part, it was silent aside from their heavy breathing and the impact of their spells. Occasionally, one of them would cast a verbal spell but they tried their best not to. They had both slowed down, requiring more concentration as they gradually used more complex magic and grew more tired. Bellatrix had never felt so perfectly challenged in her life. It was intense without going too far, teasing her limits without blowing past them.
Hermione knew she had misstepped as soon as it happened, her hasty correction throwing her off balance enough for Bellatrix to hit her square in the chest and knock her down. She grunted as she hit the ground, dragging her arm across her forehead. She hadn't even realized she was sweaty. Dueling with Bellatrix was infinitely better than training with the dummy under her supervision. The way she moved was so graceful that Hermione had to force herself not to admire it while they were dueling. Although she had been hoping to win, it was such a good duel that she didn't care. That and the smile that graced her face made it all worth it.
"Thank you, Hermione," Bellatrix said, offering her hand to the brunette witch.
"Anytime. I've never felt like that in a duel," Hermione said, letting her hair hide the slight redness in her cheeks when she placed her hand in Bellatrix's.
Bellatrix pulled her to her feet, steadying her by the waist when she had used too much force. "Like what?"
If they hadn't been so close to each other, Hermione wasn't sure if she would've heard Bellatrix's whispered question. "Like a dance."
"Well," Bellatrix mumbled, acutely aware that Hermione's hands were resting on her shoulders and fighting the blush threatening to paint her face pink, "I happen to also be an excellent dancer."
"Is that so?" Hermione whispered, the warmth from Bellatrix's hands making her feel brave.
Instead of responding, Bellatrix took one of Hermione's hands from her shoulder into her own, leading her through a waltz. Dancing with Hermione felt more normal than dancing with the countless other people she had danced with. Her hand rested gently in hers and on her shoulder, comforting warmth radiating into her skin and to the core of her being. She never wanted to stop. Bellatrix couldn't tell where Hermione ended and she began, but she didn't care. She had never experienced life like this. The brunette made her see what life could be like and she desperately wanted it.
Hermione had thought she enjoyed dancing with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball in her fourth year, but the experience didn't even compare. Bellatrix's movements were fluid and her long, slender hands held her as if she were a treasure. They glided through the Room of Requirement, both of them breathless. Hermione could swear that Bellatrix's eyes went on forever, holding the secrets of the universe in their bright depths. She would jump into their infiniteness without hesitation if Bellatrix asked her to.
When Hermione leaned her head against her shoulder, Bellatrix faltered. The content sigh that spread across her neck sent pure electricity down her spine and she pulled Hermione closer without a thought. She could feel her heart hammering nervously against her ribs as their dance turned into more of a sway. It was far more intimate than Bellatrix had intended but Hermione didn't seem to mind and she certainly didn't. She was used to intimacy that was more forced and she always felt numb in those moments. But now, now she could feel warmth spilling from Hermione and into herself, tingles racing up and down her body at Hermione's every breath, the delicate way Hermione's fingers held onto the hair at the nape of her neck. No one could ever hope to elicit the same response. The realization scared her, but the fear didn't have the opportunity to take hold of her. When she was with Hermione, she was untouchable.
Hermione nuzzled her nose into Bellatrix's neck before she could stop herself. She swallowed hard, waiting for Bellatrix to push her away. Arms tightened gently around her waist and she relaxed, not noticing the way Bellatrix's breath caught. The dark-haired witch's neck was slightly cool but felt refreshing against her flushed face. Her fingers idly toyed with the fine hairs at the base of Bellatrix's neck, marveling at their softness. Being so near to Bellatrix made her nervous, and she was grateful they weren't doing anything more than swaying because she was sure she would trip. At the same time, a surreal calmness settled over her and she felt more at peace than she ever had. Even when she had once thought Ron was the one for her, their moments had never felt like this.
"You weren't kidding," Hermione breathed, not wanting to pull away but forcing herself to. As incredible as it was, she knew it couldn't last forever.
Bellatrix felt disappointment flash across her face as the distance between Hermione and herself increased, wanting to reach out for her. She couldn't think of anything to say, torn between pulling Hermione back or letting her go. She wanted to tell her, but she couldn't find the words. It wasn't often that she was rendered speechless, and she didn't realize her mouth was hanging open until Hermione gave her a concerned look.
"Sorry," she quickly said, feeling her cheeks redden, "I got lost in thought. We should- we should probably go to dinner."
"Yeah," Hermione breathed, grabbing their bags while Bellatrix grabbed their wands.
They were silent as they walked, occasionally glancing at each other quickly before looking away. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had just happened. They weren't exactly sure how. It was easier to pretend it didn't happen even though they both wanted it to happen again. Bellatrix's sisters had already started eating when the two of them slid into seats across from them, wordlessly filling their plates. Andromeda and Narcissa shared a look, both with food halfway to their mouth.
"Are you two okay?" Andromeda asked, setting her fork down loudly.
"Why? Do we not seem okay? Everything is fine," Bellatrix rambled, forcing herself to stop letting words leave her lips.
"Yup, we're all fine, nothing to worry about," Hermione quickly affirmed, ducking her head and refusing to look at Bellatrix's observant sisters. They were too observant.
Andromeda and Narcissa looked at each other with skeptical expressions. Something had clearly happened between the two witches.
"Bella, will you help me after dinner?" Andromeda asked, pointedly flicking her eyes from Narcissa to Hermione.
"Yeah, of course," she responded, eyeing her sisters warily.
Narcissa straightened her back and asked, "Hermione, since Bella will be busy, will you help me with an essay?"
"Erm, sure. I don't see why not," she said with a shrug.
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her sisters, earning innocent smiles from both of them. She knew all their tactics, and separating herself and Hermione was a ploy to pry for information. Hermione wouldn't know that, though, which made Bellatrix worry. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how the other witch felt about their dance in the Room of Requirement. She'd rather not jeopardize their friendship by bringing it up and the brunette not feeling the same way. Bellatrix had had crushes before, of course, but never ones that felt like Hermione made her feel. Hermione understood her on a level no one else did, and she liked to think she understood Hermione more than anyone else. While that was certainly true of the present, she didn't know the extent of Hermione's relationships from before she traveled back in time.
Hermione's thoughts followed a similar path. She knew that Bellatrix's life would get harder over the next few years and she didn't want to add (possibly) unrequited feelings to the mix. Entertaining the idea that Bellatrix liked her the way she liked Bellatrix brought warmth to her chest but she quelled it as best she could. They were just friends, and they would stay that way because even if Bellatrix did like her, she would have to give up everything to be with her. She couldn't ask Bellatrix to do that.
"Hermione?" Narcissa asked once they were back in the Common Room, settled into a quiet corner to work.
"What is it?" she asked, her eyes lingering on Bellatrix sitting with Andromeda in the opposite corner.
Narcissa followed her line of sight, smiling when her eyes landed on her eldest sister. "The spell you put on Lokke works really well. My dreams haven't been as scary."
Hermione turned to smile softly at her. "It helps to have someone fight with you instead of against you."
"Do you ever have nightmares?" she asked innocently, pretending to organize her quill, parchment, and ink.
"Sometimes," Hermione shrugged, "But I try not to let them get to me."
Narcissa nodded, letting the extra ink drip from her quill before she said, "Bella thinks Andy and I don't know how she protects us from father. But we do. She pretends it doesn't bother her, but if you look closely, you can see through the cracks."
Hermione did a double-take. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Narcissa began, letting her quill balance on her inkpot, "Like how earlier you were looking for her, it was because you knew she was upset. Bella only hides when something is wrong. She doesn't let people see, but if you know the signs, you can tell she's suffering on the inside."
"I don't think I've ever met someone who wasn't," Hermione muttered, her eyes moving from Narcissa to the table.
Narcissa looked over at her sister, catching her direct her gaze back to Andromeda. "You and Bella both hide it well. You're a little more obvious about other things, though."
Hermione didn't say anything, drumming her fingers on the desk and chewing her lip. Narcissa's quill scratched against the roll of parchment as she wrote, save for the occasional pause when she had to get more ink.
"Hermione," she said, her eye twitching, "Please stop that."
"Sorry," she said, pulling her hand away from the table as if it were hot, "You don't actually need my help, do you?"
She shrugged, not looking up from her essay. "I might."
"What subject?" Hermione snuck a glance over at Bellatrix, who had moved to sit next to Andromeda and was gesturing to what she assumed was her homework.
"Potions," she said simply, placing her quill down and looking up at Hermione, "Listen, Bella doesn't let people close to her. The fact that she trusts you so easily, that we all do, it's special. She cares about you, a lot, even if she hasn't said it. Don't hurt her."
"I'll do my best," she breathed, feeling more intimidated by Narcissa's icy stare than she expected to. She truly had no intention to hurt Bellatrix or her sisters, but sometimes things happened that were out of her control. She couldn't promise it would never happen, but she would do everything she could not to hurt her, including keeping how she really felt a secret. It was probably just a crush and would fade with time, anyway.
Andromeda slid into the seat next to her, sending Narcissa an approving look. "So, what are we talking about?"
"Where's Bellatrix?" Hermione asked, ignoring her question.
"Prefect duties," she said with an eye roll, "Stop avoiding."
"You know perfectly well what we're talking about, Andy," Narcissa said, returning to her essay.
She shrugged with a smile, nudging Hermione with her elbow. "I just wanted to see if Hermione would admit it."
"Admit what?"
"That you like Bella," Andromeda said as if it weren't obvious.
Hermione could feel her face flush at the accusation. "I mean, yeah, I like her, we're friends, aren't we?"
Narcissa and Andromeda looked at her doubtfully, while the middle Black sister said, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"What are you guys doing for Christmas?" Hermione asked, hoping to change the subject. She wasn't entirely ready to have her possible feelings for Bellatrix examined by her two younger sisters. She wasn't even ready to examine them herself.
They both recognized the distraction for what it was but decided to let it slide for now. Hermione clearly wasn't ready to admit anything to them and they had no interest in trying to force it out of her. It would just make her close herself off from them and they actually liked that Hermione was comfortable enough to be somewhat open with them and that they could be open with her.
"We always go home for Christmas," Andromeda said with an eye roll, "It's supposed to be fun but it's not."
"Andy," Narcissa hissed under her breath.
"You think it, too," she retorted.
Narcissa huffed. "I enjoy the Christmas party. But that isn't my point. Hermione has to spend Christmas alone, which is worse than us having to go home."
"I don't mind," Hermione shrugged, "Believe it or not, I've had worse Christmases."
"No, Cissy's right. As dreadful as it is, we always have each other, so it isn't that bad," Andromeda said, her shoulders drooping.
"It's okay," she insisted, "I asked, but we can talk about something else."
Andromeda tapped her chin while she thought. There was a lot she wanted to know, but Hermione did avoid some topics. She rarely answered questions about anything other than school and her favorite classes, or things she had learned. It was understandable, she was sure she wouldn't want to relive the horrors of a war that shouldn't have been hers in the first place. Still, she couldn't quell the burning curiosity.
It wasn't until Hermione was reading over what Narcissa had written so far that Andromeda blurted out, "How come you had to fight in the war? Why didn't we stop it?"
Hermione felt her blood run cold at Andromeda's question. The answer was simple, really, but she couldn't tell them. She couldn't tell them that they stopped speaking because Andromeda ran away, that it ate at Bellatrix until there was no love left, that Narcissa had married a Death Eater and didn't have a choice. She couldn't tell them that they had fought on opposite sides, had been enemies, instead of collaborating to get it over with. Her hands shook as she handed Narcissa's essay back to her wordlessly.
"I should get to bed," she murmured, feeling her chest tightening, "Good night."
The two witches didn't have a chance to say anything before Hermione was already at the stairs. She rushed to her room as quickly as she could, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it. Her breaths came faster even as she tried to slow them. They couldn't know about the chasm that had formed, it would destroy them. The three sisters were so close, even if Bellatrix tried to stay aloof to hide the burden she carried. There was nothing but love between them and she wouldn't let them know what had happened.
"Hermione!" Bellatrix called through the door as she banged on it with her fists.
She moved away from the door, unsure of where to put herself so she looked normal. She ended up standing rigidly in the middle of their room, unable to think of anything except Nymphadora, dead. Bellatrix, a ghost. Andromeda with a grandson to raise alone. Narcissa, shunned by the world with a husband in Azkaban and a son on house arrest. Everything she had gone through with Harry and Ron. The isolation, anger, pain, fear, sadness.
"Hermione," Bellatrix said again, placing her hands on her shoulders gently, "Talk to me."
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to pull away even though she didn't want to.
"Please," she whispered, brushing her hair back and resting a hand on her cheek, "Let me be there for you the way you're there for me."
A sob escaped her throat and Bellatrix pulled her into a hug, tangling her hand in brown hair and slowly guiding her to the bed so they could sit. Hermione clutched Bellatrix's shoulders, keeping her face buried while she calmed down. It was much easier when she was tangible. The soft heat radiating off of Bellatrix pulsed around her, one hand rubbed her back, and she could feel every breath Bellatrix took.
"Andy asked me why the war wasn't stopped earlier and I-I-I couldn't tell her that you and Narcissa were on a different side from her. It would crush her and Narcissa to know that the three of you weren't close anymore. And I know that's not why the war didn't end sooner, there were so many things, but if you had all been on the same side instead of fighting on opposite sides it might've been over earlier," she rambled, pulling her face out of Bellatrix's shoulder and looking at her with tear-filled eyes.
"It's okay," Bellatrix whispered, wiping away a stray tear, "That won't happen this time around. I won't let it."
"What if I came back for nothing? What if it doesn't matter what I do? What if the outcome is still the same?" she asked, her voice cracking.
Bellatrix cupped Hermione's cheek, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together and gently saying, "Shhh. Don't let those thoughts cloud your mind, Hermione. The outcome won't be the same as long as we have each other."
The doubts Hermione had melted away as she fell further into Bellatrix's eyes. She knew it was impossible for Bellatrix to promise things would turn out different, but the sincerity in her voice and on her face almost made Hermione believe she could.
Her eyes closed as she leaned into Bellatrix's hand, wondering aloud, "How did you know I needed you?"
She chuckled lowly, tenderly tracing Hermione's cheek with her thumb. "I had just entered the Common Room when you were fleeing from my sisters. I'm sorry they can be a bit much."
"They weren't that bad," Hermione insisted, shaking her head lightly, "It just caught me off guard and I panicked."
"Is it selfish of me to ask you to keep it from them?" she mumbled, fighting the desire to lean forward and press her lips to Hermione's cheek. Hermione needed comfort, it was the only reason she was responding this way.
"Maybe," she shrugged, "But I'd do it even if you didn't ask."
"You-you would?" Bellatrix stammered, sitting up straighter.
Hermione nodded, opening her eyes to look at Bellatrix. "I know the toll it takes to fight a war from a young age and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even the survivors are damaged, sometimes beyond repair."
Bellatrix moved so she was sitting next to Hermione, sliding an arm around her shoulder. "Do you think you're beyond repair?"
"I don't know," she admitted, leaning her head to rest on Bellatrix's shoulder.
"I don't think you are," she whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple and hiding her blush with her hair while she continued, "Try to get some sleep but you can wake me if you need to."
Hermione felt her face turn red and she didn't trust her voice enough to speak so she just nodded. Bellatrix's lips were soft and gentle, sending tingles out from where they had touched her skin. She wanted to know how Bellatrix's lips would feel against her own, but she banished the idea in favor of following Bellatrix's suggestion. She had a feeling sleep wouldn't come easily, but it was worth a try. Kicking off her shoes, she didn't bother changing out of her uniform, barely mustering the strength to pull the blanket around her like armor. Exhaustion set in, especially as she imagined how nice it felt when Bellatrix had kissed her forehead and held her close. She didn't dare think too hard about what it might mean, preferring to just take comfort in the thought.
Bellatrix watched Hermione from the foot of her bed. She had taken off her shoes and was leaning against one of the posters with her legs tucked under her, trying not to give in to her impulse to lay beside Hermione. Her thoughts drifted over memories of the last few months. They had watched Quidditch tryouts for the Slytherin team, even a few practices, and had discussed how convoluted the game was. Hermione had pretended she couldn't stand the sport, but Bellatrix had seen the underlying truth, that she did enjoy watching her team win. She had kept her own dislike for the game hidden, or she had tried to, because it was something she preferred not to think about. She'd be stupid to think Hermione hadn't noticed anything, but she hadn't brought it up and that was good enough for Bellatrix. That was part of why she found Hermione so amazing. She always seemed to know where the line was when asking questions, and she cared enough to not push for anything. She trusted her to tell her if the time was ever right.
"Bells," Hermione mumbled suddenly, clearly half asleep.
"Hmm? she snapped awake, realizing that she had fallen asleep sitting up, "Did you just call me Bells?"
"Mhm. Why did you decide to make Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, partially into her mattress.
Bellatrix was confused before it clicked that Hermione was referring to their assignment in Transfiguration earlier that day. "Oh. Well, I like it here. It's...it's more like a home to me than my actual home. This is the one place I actually feel sort of normal. Why did you make a rose?"
Hermione rolled over, squinting at her from across the room. "What's in a name?"
"What?" Bellatrix asked, furrowing her brows together. She wasn't entirely sure Hermione was even awake, it was hard to tell if her eyes were open in the dark.
"It's from a play," Hermione said, "A very famous one in the Muggle world. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
"Is it your favorite?" She debated moving closer to Hermione so she could see her better.
Before Bellatrix had the chance, Hermione was already up and moving closer to her bed. She sat down next to Bellatrix, muttering, "Merlin, no. But it's been on my mind lately. That part in particular."
"What's it about?" Bellatrix asked, acutely aware of how close Hermione was.
"Star-crossed lovers," Hermione answered, laying back, "They think they're destined to be together, but their families are rivals and there's another man in love with the woman, so she fakes her death, but the man she loves believes she actually dies, so he kills himself and she wakes up to find him dead and actually kills herself."
"Woah," Bellatrix breathed, laying back and turning on her side, "That's intense. So, why that part?"
Hermione shrugged, letting her head loll to the side so she could look at Bellatrix, finding deep pools waiting for her. "Seeing everyone now, before the war, it's surreal. I know how so many of them turned out, and it's so contrary to who they are now. You, Andy, Narcissa, everyone in our house, even Molly. At what point did things change? At what point did you stop being a rose?"
Bellatrix felt herself being pulled into Hermione's eyes, distracting her from answering. "I didn't know I was a rose."
The laugh that left Hermione sent electricity through Bellatrix's body, bringing a smile to her face. Hermione hardly ever laughed like she was truly carefree and happy. Every time it happened, Bellatrix couldn't resist staring in awe.
"You can be prickly, for sure. But you're also beautiful and delicate." Hermione clamped her mouth shut, grateful for the lack of light so Bellatrix wouldn't be able to see the redness of her face.
"If that's what it takes to be a rose, then you're one, too," Bellatrix whispered, bringing her hands under her head to serve as a pillow.
Hermione felt her face turn even redder and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth nervously. "You really think so?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't, silly."
Hermione swallowed hard, turning her head to look at the ceiling so she didn't do something that might jeopardize their friendship. "I'm really glad we're friends, Bells."
"Me, too," Bellatrix whispered, ignoring the slight hurt in her heart. She knew it was too much to ask for Hermione to have feelings for her like she did for the brunette. Or maybe she just was mistaking her feelings as the way friends felt.
"Goodnight," Hermione whispered to her, brushing her hand softly and refraining from placing a kiss on her cheek, barely.
Bellatrix felt her heart flutter at the gesture, wanting to grab Hermione's hand and pull her close to stay there. "Goodnight. Sleep well, Hermione."
She felt the weight of Hermione disappear from her mattress, immediately missing it as the brunette returned to her bed. Her thoughts drifted to their earlier dance as she laid on her bed staring at the ceiling. It had felt so wonderful to sway back and forth with Hermione against her. She rarely had the chance to feel as carefree as she had then, like all her responsibilities melted away.
Bellatrix wasn't entirely sure of what her feelings for the other witch meant, or if they were just temporary because she wasn't used to attention from other people. They would probably pass with time, once she was accustomed to it. She needed them to, because if her father ever found out...Well, Bellatrix certainly wasn't prepared to deal with what the consequences might be. There was no one to protect her from her father's wrath, no one to convince him to just disown her and burn her off the tapestry.
She shook the thoughts out of her head. It would be better if she didn't go down that road at all. If she did, she would start doubting how she would keep her promise to Hermione. She thought about the brunette instead. Hermione had traveled back in time to try to save her, to give her a chance. Bellatrix didn't know how to take that chance, but she would try. She would try to be worthy of the chance, no matter how afraid she was.