Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Not Strong Enough
Chapter One
May 8th…
"It's raining," Her breath ghosts across the wind, hiding the street below from view.
"So, you said."
"It's meant to be sunny, no longer April showers…"
"Do you know when you whinge, your voice goes higher in pitch?"
"Shut up," She grumbles. "Does it?"
A bark of a laugh, the click clacks of heels on the wooden floor as the other occupant wanders across the flat. The fridge door opening and closing once more with a pop the clink of metal. She can imagine the ruby red lips around the hem of the lid, the gulping of the contents. It's times like this she stares at her reflection with a pointed look. A reminder. They are friends. Nothing more.
Her mind knows this, she is just waiting for her heart to catch up. Maybe one day she will look at Bellatrix without thinking about pushing the witch onto the sofa, snogging the smirk off her face. That one day her heart won't do its annoying flip flop when Bella walks into the room. For now, she celebrates not saying anything stupid, she has learnt to get control of her mouth. For now.
"Here," The cold touch of the glass against her arm makes her jump.
There it goes again, the flip flop of her heart. The tingling on her arms and the smell of Bella's perfume it pushes Hermione's senses into overdrive. Her hand accepts the bottle, ignores the touch of skin, she refuses to look away from the window. Never fall for a straight girl. Lesson 101, but here she is a once seasoned bisexual falling for the most basic mistake.
"How long until pizza?" Still, Bellatrix lingers leaning against her side, peering out onto the street below.
Does she know? Knows what her presence does to Hermione, to her body? She probably would get some thrill from it if she did, perhaps that's why she always stays too close. Why did she have to introduce Bellatrix to takeaway pizza? Muggle pizza of all things.
The memory is still fresh, like most things, Bellatrix invites herself. Turning up on her doorstep after that night out drinking. Tired from work, she sat on Hermione's sofa and criticized her small apartment. Ranting and raving about idiots she works with, Hermione still stood by the door. She compares Bella to a stray cat, she's fed her once, and now she will never leave.
It breaks the lonely nights; in fact, she's spent more time with Bella the last few weeks than she has with anyone since school. Chess, games, she sometimes helps with Bella's cases as a sounding board. Sometimes they just read in silence, huddled from the rain, eating junk food.
"Earth to Hermione?" Bella mumbles waving a hand in front of Hermione's face. "You in there?"
One thing Bella lacks is patience, a question asked must be answered, quickly. Failure to do so will ignite the famous annoying behaviour of a certain witch. She likes to push it sometimes; to see how far the Auror will go. She's received a hex or two for her efforts.
"You're doing it again," Bella grumbles.
"They're here," Hermione comments just as the doorbell rings.
"You creep me out when you do that."
Click clack, the heels head to the door, the flick of the locks, the murmur of voices. A door shoved in a young lad's face before he can even speak, notes thrown in his direction. Hermione has tried to educate Bella on the difference between muggle money to gold coins. That a fifty pound note is far too much for a pizza.
"Here's your weird contraption." The pizza dropped on the counter. "Bloody pineapple on a pizza…"
"You busy Wednesday?" Hermione asks.
"Let me check my calendar, hmm no," Bella comments biting into her meat supreme. "What are we doing?"
It's funny how intertwined they've become, days planned around one another. Two people, perhaps lonely people, career-obsessed women with no friends. One facing a bitter divorce the other is unable to connect to anyone. Hermione would never have imagined this, not ever, not sharing her apartment with Bellatrix, eating pizza, and watching shitty comedies on TV.
A hex makes her jump, it sends knives down her back, pins and needles setting in. Hermione glares at the witch sprawled across one of Hermione's arm chairs. A wand dangling lazily between two sharp nails, a warning, a fair warning.
"I'm going soon if you keep being quiet," Bellatrix warns.
Huffing, Hermione takes a seat on the sofa, placing her pizza on a plate, she uses her utensils to cut into it. A roll of the eyes from Bellatrix, the grease dripping between fingers as Bella bites lazily into her pizza.
"Come on prim and proper, speak, once upon a time you weren't so shy."
"Please, can we never speak of that again," Hermione replies, breaking her silence? "Can we ignore the elevator for oh I don't know, eternity?"
"Hardly, it keeps me warm at night."
"You think of me before you sleep, now I am flattered."
"You wish," Bella smirks. "What's got you so distracted anyway?"
"Do you think it's weird?" Hermione wonders aloud forgoing her knife and fork for her fingers. "How much time we spend together?"
A slight twitch, a nerve plucked as Bella fidgets in the seat. Hermione is not sure why she's asking, she knows this is a friendship. Nothing more, they made it clear. Still, the question bugs her.
"Would this be weird if you weren't gay?" Bella shoots back.
"I don't know, suppose not."
"You're worried, why?" Bella asks wiping her hands on her clothes.
Frowning, Hermione rises from her seat heading a few steps into her kitchen to retrieve some kitchen roll to hand to Bella. Groaning, Bella accepts the kitchen roll. The Auror may be good at hexes, but Hermione's wandless magic was something to watch especially when it comes to her furniture. She's just as good with hexes as Bella.
"People talk."
"Say's the unspeakable."
"I don't worry about my reputation."
"Oh, I'm flattered," Bella scoffs. "My name has already been dragged through the mud with the divorce."
It's an offhand comment, nothing major, just a comparison. Bella's name has indeed been dragged through all the papers, the divorce in nearly all the gossip columns. Doesn't help with the odd paparazzi trying to snap a picture. Nor the broken nose of a reporter, who so happened to get on Bella's bad side one day. The lawsuit doesn't help things either.
Still, the mention of mud, the reflection on Hermione's status, the derogative term. It makes her flinch outwardly, a hand gripping the bottle too tightly. She knows Bella, knows the witch didn't intentionally mean to compare their friendship to that of mud, or socialising with Hermione is on a similar scale. It hits though, deep in the gut, it cracks her guarded heart.
The whispers of doubt because no one knows. No one knows of their friendship. It's because she doesn't care if they do, that's what Hermione tells herself. She keeps to herself a recluse, Bella the same. Why does anyone need to know if they're friends? Still, the doubt lingers a nagging pain in the back of my mind, that plucks strings of doubt. That Bella is ashamed of their friendship, that somewhere in Bella's mind she considers Hermione a mudblood. Somewhere deep-rooted, Bella is a Black, one of the sacred twenty-eight.
The strings pluck.
"No," Bella snaps, making Hermione jump the voice too loud for the evening. "Stop that,"
"Stop what…"
"Stop that train of thought, that was a poor choice of words. I didn't mean to… compare our friendship to mud."
"It's fine Bella, I know," A smile forced, her lips faltering under the effort. "I know that's not what you meant."
"It's not, I'm not bothered if anyone knows of our friendship. What I meant to say… What I mean is…" It's odd to see Bella fumble with words.
Disconcerting, to see the witch struggle, someone so proud struggling to formulate her words. It's simple really. Emotions and Bella are two estranged friends. Bella is a very emotional person, quick to anger, to protection, to love and one so very disconnected. What she lacks is feeling, and understanding, she speaks through actions, not through words.
Anger is quick to rise for making a fool of herself, for stumbling over her words. Hermione can see the demon rear its ugly head in those proud eyes. What upbringing Bella must have suffered to be struggling to voice her feelings. To show her feelings for another. To even acknowledge anything, to formulate so quickly to self-loathing. Hermione can see Bella's mind already berating itself, she lives under the shadow of another.
Bella's actions are controlled by a strict upbringing, living in the shadow of her heritage. To do better, to be better, to never falter, stumble or pause. Those proud shoulders holding on to that of a family mantle passed down.
"I just worry," Hermione continues seriously. "For any potential suitors of yours in the future, what will they think if you've been spending time with well, you know…"
She pauses for effect, the silence deafening. The pizza hanging limp in Bella's hand, she's drawn like a bow. Ready to snap. To explode in anger, hatred anything burning in the depths. Because she will, she will lash out, not at Hermione but herself. Anger at causing harm even though accidentally, she will hate it. So, Hermione expertly weaves, and weaves their conversation, wanting to break this tension.
"A what?" Bella asks, just as quiet. Hermione can see her, ready to spring to berate Hermione for thinking of herself as anything less than the capable witch she is.
Leaning forward, Hermione rests her arms on her knees, fiddling with the label of her bottle. She turns looking Bella dead in the eye, unflinching. She whispers…
"A carpet muncher."
A smirk makes its way to her lips, as Bella stares back unblinkingly. A laugh, unlike anything before, it's throaty, warm straight from the heart. The pizza box falls to the floor, greasy hands cupping two rosy cheeks. Bella howls with laughter.
It's the most beautiful thing Hermione has ever seen.
It's infectious, she falls into the laughter, such deep belly laughter that it becomes hard to breathe. A pizza hits the chair, she cannot help but reprimand the witch it sends them off again. More laughter, until they both struggle to breathe.
"Bella, your leaking fluids…" Hermione whispers pointing to the witch's eyes.
"Fuck off!" Bella laughs throwing a coaster at Hermione.
It turns into war, items thrown at one another, cushions used as both weapons and shields, and they fight. Scrapping over pointless things, an ice cube shoved down a shirt, a pizza smeared in a face. It ends with them both panting. Hermione stares up at the ceiling holding on to a cushion. Bella splayed back out on her chair, still laughing.
They fall into a comfortable silence; Hermione tries to ignore the auror as she helps herself to pizza despite it being on the floor. Tries to ignore the mess of her living room. Ignore the plucking of strings in her mind because she couldn't care less. Could care less if the world knew of their friendship. Because Hermione knows, she has these memories, these moments with Bella no one else has.
"This chairs uncomfortable," Bella comments perhaps for the hundredth time since she claimed it as her while visiting.
"Wouldn't be if you just sat on it properly," Hermione replies.
The chair squeaks, as the witch shifts rolling over so she can look down at Hermione on the floor. Leaning against her arm Bella observes Hermione lying on the ground, a lazy smile fixed on ruby lips. Hermione wants to kiss the witch, but she won't. Because that will ruin everything. This woman, who has stormed into her life, stole her heart. She's worth the ache, worth the unease. Just to be close to her, is everything for Hermione.
It will be enough for her, to be friends will be enough.
"So, what are we doing Wednesday?" Bella asks.
"Sofa hunting."
A grunt, as a cushion, smacks her in the face, a grumble of annoyance as she smacks Bella back with her cushion. Cursing under her breath as Bella stalks to the kitchen reaching into the cupboard for the whisky she brings when she visits. Whiskey so expensive Hermione flinches when the witch spills a single drop.
"Bloody weeks I've been moaning about your furniture. Weeks! It's fine Bella, they're comfy." Bella mimics. "Just sit on them properly and you won't notice. Blah Blah Blah. And now, we're going sofa shopping."
"Yes,"
"Don't yes me you bitch." Bella hisses in annoyance. "We could have done this weeks ago."
"Doesn't help when someone keeps rolling around them."
"You calling me fat?"
"If you learnt to sit like a human they wouldn't need changing."
"You are calling me fat." She slides a tumbler of liquor to Hermione. "Probably more like your cat."
"Hey, crooks, is not fat."
"Just big-boned, aren't we all."
"He's just not used to his cat flap yet, so he won't go out."
"A bloody cat, his being awkward."
"You wonder why he doesn't like you."
"Please, he sits on my lap whenever I'm here."
"Because he's a tart."
"Because he loves me more and you're jealous." Bella taunts.
"Am not," Hermione mutters, flopping back down onto the sofa.
With a flick of the wand, Hermione puts the room back together, as Bella wanders to her bookshelf. Flicking through the channels on the TV, Hermione wonders if anything is on tonight. She hates having days off, she gets bored too easily.
"So why now?" Bella asks frowning at a book. "Why are you getting a new lot of furniture."
"Since I have guests these days, I better make an effort."
She receives a disbelieving look, Bella wouldn't care if she had to sit on the floor, if anything surroundings don't bother Bellatrix. Hermione has seen the witch fall asleep standing up. Despite, what would have been a luxury home she would have once lived in, Bella cares little for her belongings.
Hermione assumes anyway, she has yet to see Bella's place, places? She doesn't know, perhaps it's the divorce, or perhaps Lestrange still lives at home with Bella. She doubts it not with the way the witch speaks about him, no love loss in their relationship. Bella, either spends time at Hermione's flat or they spend time together, out eating or drinking.
The strings that pluck feed the fear of insecurities. Bella doesn't want to take Hermione to her place. That it has nothing to do with the divorce and everything to do with blood status. Bella doesn't want Hermione setting foot in her house.
A conversation for another day, she will ask, perhaps Bella is more comfortable at Hermione's. Perhaps.
"I received a bonus at work," Hermione comments turning her thoughts outward. "I can afford to buy some brand new furniture."
A mouth opens, closing just as quick as a flicker of something across an emotionless face. The fingers flicking through a book pause. It's fleeting, Bella wanting to say something but stopping last minute. It intrigues Hermione and makes her wonder what the witch is thinking.
"So, as I have poor taste, I'd like a second opinion."
"This is not my speciality," Bella comments guarded.
"I'd already guessed, your house probably a show home, I imagine the grandeur and probably more uncomfortable furniture than me except it just looks nice."
"You wouldn't imagine wrong," Bella replies offhandedly still guarded.
"Look all I need from you is to put your arse in a chair and give me your opinion," Hermione muttered placing the remote down. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, I just don't want to be bored on my own."
"No, it's fine," Bella answers sinking back into her seat with a potions book.
"Good," Hermione nods absently, wondering what's running through Bella's mind to make her so guarded. "Oh, I'm going to muggle shops, by the way, dress appropriately."
"What no," Bella exclaims with a growl. "We have much better furniture, it's far more superior to muggle shit."
"So is the price tag, no I'm buying muggle. I can't afford wizarding furniture. Besides, I'm hoping to be able to buy a new bed, I won't have the money for that if I buy wizard furniture."
"What's the point of asking my opinion if you won't listen? Wizard furniture lasts a lot longer."
"I always value your opinion; on this occasion no. I can't afford that."
With a huff, like a child Bella folds her arms angrily, placing her feet on the table in annoyance. Smirking, Hermione plucks one of the magazines she collected for furniture flicking through the pages. She decorated her apartment with hand-me-down furniture and charity shop items. She didn't have the money for anything new. The idea of being able to buy her furniture, with her own money excites probably more than it should. A mutter makes her look up at the stormy face opposite her.
"What was that?" Hermione asks.
"You could just ask." Is the grumpy reply.
"I did just ask, I can't…"
"No, just ask for my help…" Bella replies frustratedly placing the book down with a huff. "I don't mind, just ask."
Confused, Hermione stares blankly at the witch, she has no idea what she needs to ask. She has asked Bella for her help; in fact, she hopes it'll be as eventful as Hermione imagines. Yes, they'll get bored, and they will probably end up buying the first one they see anyway. But she wants to go shopping with her friend. She's hoping to ask Bella for help to paint the apartment, but one step at a time.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you." Bella deadpans.
"If you don't want to come, you don't have to." Hermione offers an out, trying to hide her disappointment.
"No, I don't mind, it's… I can give you the money you know." It's a slap in the face, so sharp it makes Hermione recoils. "Just ask, I can get the furniture for you…"
"I'm not a charity," Hermione snaps angrily. "I don't want your money."
"I know that" It's a patronising tone, soothing which just ends up infuriating Hermione further. "If you want some decent furniture, I don't mind giving you the money. I mean if it makes you feel better, it can be a loan… Where are you going?"
"I don't want your money Bellatrix," Hermione fumes, moving from the sofa.
Rising slowly to her feet, Bella watches Hermione with caution, as much caution as she would a centaur.
"I'm not a charity, and I don't want your money. I'm sorry my apartment isn't to your liking…"
"No, I didn't…"
"I'm sorry your highness has to slum it out…"
"I wasn't, that's not…"
"If you're not comfortable you can fuck off back to your castle."
She's pretty sure it's the first time she's sworn in front of Bellatrix, or at the witch for that matter. There's pain fuelling her anger, her hand is reaching for the lock on her door, furious, she's shaking. She wants the witch gone, out of her home, yes, it's a crappy apartment. But it's her home, she's spent her money on this home. It has beautiful memories, happy memories, it may not be anything special, but she can just about afford an apartment in wizarding London. It's an achievement.
The lock fumbles under her fingers, too angry to truly focus. Should have known, known Bella was just being polite. Thought they were friends, she doesn't come from a rich family, she didn't come from rags either. But she worked hard for this, still working hard for her home.
Cold fingers clasp around her own, unrelenting in their grip. She's so angry she feels a tear slip unaccounted; it leaves a trail down a cheek. It makes her angrier, she hates crying. A hand wipes the errant tear away.
"Stop, I'm sorry." Bella is moving them, faster than her mind can catch up. Away from the door, backwards until her heel touches the wall. "Please, I'm sorry."
She's never heard the witch apologise, the hand gripping her turns gentle cradling instead of caging. She wants to push the witch away; she wants to punch her in the face. But the touch soothes, it sends her heart into a spiral to have Bella so close.
"Please," Bella repeats, it's now Hermione realises it's Bella's hand that is shaking now not Hermione's. "I didn't mean to offend."
Scoffing, Hermione tries to put some distance between them, to break the spell Bella creates when she's too close. She only manages to put a few inches between them, the hands refuse to let go. Her hand is gripping Bella's cloak on its own accord, pushing but pulling her closer.
"I… I'm not good at this." Bella mutters angrily to herself. "Hermione,"
She forces herself to meet the dark gaze, her actions make the Auror pause in her words. The anger is still pulsing, her mind remains foggy from the closeness, from the touch.
"I'm sorry," It's a sigh the hand on Hermione's cheek moves running through Bella's mane. "I misunderstood; I thought you were trying to ask. Or were too shy to ask."
"What?" Hermione demands angrily breaking free from the witch's grip; she stalks angrily away. "Why, what made you think that?"
"Because that's what people do, fuck's sake I'm a Black. A Black, Granger. Used to be a sodding Lestrange, people see that and see the money. All people ever want from me is my money or my name."
"I have never. When have I ever asked you for anything? I've never asked shit out of you."
"I know…"
"No, you don't get to act the victim in this, I'm so fucking angry right now. Have I ever given you a reason to assume I want anything from you?"
"This is how it starts; people pretend to be my friend then they start asking things of me. It's routine, has been since school, even the teachers used to smooch up to me."
"Well, I'm not those sorts of people."
"How do I know that?"
"Because you know me, Bella, you should know me by now. Or have I been spending my time with someone else these last few weeks?"
"Weeks, that's not enough time."
"Enough time for what? For me to show my true colours? What do you want to know? You spend nearly every sodding night at mine."
"You're an unspeakable it's your job to lie."
She flinches at the accusation; they don't lie they just withhold the truth. Because the truth is dangerous, she hasn't lied to Bella. Only about one thing, the truth is she doesn't just see Bella as a friend, she wants more. She wants all of Bella, but it's impossible so she will do everything in her power to see Bella happy.
Grumbling, Bella tugs at her hair, turning away from Hermione, and the shoulders shake. Not with tears of sadness but anger, or frustration as she paces the small room.
"I don't want anything from you." Hermione breaks the silence. "Bella, I don't want anything, I can't prove that I don't have an ulterior motive, I can't prove that I'm not lying. All I want is to spend time with you, our time is precious, and I enjoy it. I enjoy our time together, so maybe I do want something, but I hope it's reciprocated."
The shake of the shoulder is different this time. Stepping forward, Hermione breaches the gap between them. She reaches around Bella offering a hand, the hand she offered in the lift.
"Commiserations?" Hermione mutters.
A small laugh, a damp hand encases her own. She's swept into a fierce hug; she returns it with equal fervour. Resting her head on the bony shoulder, she cannot see or feel Bella's face. The hair acts as a guard, it cloaks her from the world. A whisper so faint, a sorry offered lost in the hug, she clutches the witch tighter. A kiss, brief presses against Hermione's forehead as Bella returns to the world with no sign of tears.
"Can I come shopping Wednesday?" Bella asks.
"Yes, but you have to wear the jeans I brought you."
The witch falls silent and Hermione can feel the fight beneath the layers of clothes. She expects a no, except the body deflates a mustered fine. Smirking, Hermione rests her head against the witch's cheek. Perhaps not completely platonic, but she feels this is a reassurance more than anything else. Quietly, her heart flip-flops beneath its cage.