Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.

Enjoy...

Chapter Six

August 18th…

She can barely breathe, clutching at the sheets a gasp spilling from her lips, the hands on her hips driving her backwards. Pumping with inhuman force forcing her towards a second climax, she arches as she comes apart.

"Harder," She bites the word out.

A hand lands on her shoulder, pulling her backwards. She clutches the headboards riding the wave of ecstasy. It's not enough. She pushes them away kicking them backwards, the cock slipping from her core. She aches, shoving them backwards clutching their thighs.

"Bella," A growl, insistent hands grabbing her hips.

She guides herself onto the awaiting appendage, her cunt welcoming the intrusion. Her hands grasp the headboard as she rides herself into oblivion. Head back, the bed squeaks, she moans as she sets a slower, harder tempo pushing deeper each time.

"More," The order gasped.

She moves like a snake, clutching the hands at her hips, gathering them, she holds them hostage. Both hands clutched between her iron grasp, her right slips around the swan neck, tightening.

Lips meet, hungrily, desperate searching for solace. Tongues dancing, Bella nips at the bottom lip, a groan, the hands strain against the restraint. Eyes rolling back as they suck her at her tongue, fighting for dominance, she breaks from the kiss.

"Is this what you wanted?" Bella hisses nipping at the exposed ear.

Her tongue curls around an erect nipple, sucking a groan, an incoherent cry. She bites at the underside of the tit, grinning as the body jerks beneath her.

"To be held down like the whore you are?" Bella hisses, her hand flexing on the neck.

"Bella please,"

"Open your eyes."

"Please." A whimper.

"Eyes."

Honey brown eyes blink open, wild, lips parted hand around her throat, restrained, as Bella uses her riding herself into oblivion. She clenches her walls, brown eyes rolling back, she feels the witch come apart. She chases her into the abyss.

"Hermione," She cries the name against the sweaty neck, and two arms encircle her.

She jolts awake, sweaty, duvet tangled around her legs, she detangles herself, breathless. Naked, she blinks against the darkened room, swallowing hard, she checks the bed beside her jumping as the door opens.

"Bella, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Tom?" Bella breathes.

Boxers on, Tom exits the bathroom, searching through the darkened room for his clothes. Releasing a breath, Bella falls back against the pillows, sweat clinging to her forehead.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Tom quips as he slips into his shirt.

"No, a strange dream that's all," Bella murmurs.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she's aware of how wet she is, an ache between her legs. A need low in her stomach, the urge to finish the dream with her fingers. Running a hand through her hair, she squints to check the time.

"I hope I was good," Tom comments. "To get you all flustered like this."

"You have no idea," Bella whispers rubbing her face.

"I have some idea," he smirks. "Last night for example."

She flushes red, shame rushing through her, the memory of sex last night pales in comparison to her very vivid dream. Tom is a caring lover, ensuring she climaxes first, but gentle. She doesn't want gentle, she had tried to coax him into at least placing his hand on her neck. To becoming rougher, can still recall the moment she felt him blanch at the idea. Not like the first time, the first time was exciting, fast and dirty. Built up chemistry, he had taken her hard against his desk at work. A dirty little secret. Now it was candle-lit dinners, romantic gestures and lovemaking.

"I see you remember to," Tom smiles, moving closer to the bed.

She forces a smile as he cradles her cheek, reaching down to press a kiss to her lips. She tries to deepen it, her hand reaching for his jewels.

"Ah, ah behave, I have an important meeting," He states detangling from her grip.

"At this time?" Bella questions.

"Yes, perhaps we can continue you tonight. I've made our reservations for dinner."

"Maybe we could skip dinner and go straight to the dessert?"

"It's an important meal, we're meeting the Minister and his wife remember?"

"Oh, yes."

"But if you're good, you'll get dessert."

"Yay."

The sarcasm is lost on him as he presses a kiss to her forehead, heading to the door. A promise to see her out of work, he slips from the room. Groaning, Bella falls back against her bed, the memory on repeat.

She waits for her charms to let her know the moment Tom has left the house until her hands slide south. Gliding across her flat stomach, slipping between her thighs. Her nails dig in a delightfully painful way against her clit as her middle finger and ring finger slip through the wet. She pushes them deep inside, arching, closing her eyes. Tom. Tom. Tom.

"Bella, don't tease,"

"So cute when you beg, on your knees."

She drops to her knees without thought, pushing Bella back against the chest of draws. Hands forcing her legs apart, teeth nipping at her thigh. Bella buries her hands in Hermione's hair, nails scraping across the scalp. Chuckling at the gasp, the laughter brought short. A tongue sweeps across her wet folds. A moan breaks from her lips as the tongue sweeps deeper hands holding her against the draws. One hand pulls Bella's leg over Hermione's shoulder, forcing her to clutch the wall for support. Three fingers bury deep, never stopping as she laps at her…

"Fuck." Bella cries as she climaxes.

Chest heaving she stares up at the ceiling, the ache still present. It's not enough, her hands ache to feel the real thing to touch. She clenches them into fists, groaning as she covers her eyes. What is wrong with me? She just came thinking of her best friend, while her bed smells of Tom. What the fuck is wrong with me?

It's safe to say, the rest of the day fails to improve. Third coffee, she stares at the bulletin board, the pictures of missing faces, steadily growing. Muggle-borns, half-bloods and those dubbed 'blood traitors'. The terror it's filling the streets, the cult growing bolder and with each passing day, the Auror unit is playing catch up.

"Again, I will stress to work in pairs, they are trained, this one here, this is the one we are hoping to corner. We need this one, they are not as strong in duelling, but from surveillance, they are high up in this cult. They give orders. Now, I will not stress this enough, this one here, the half moon on their mask. Do not engage them in a duel." Dolohov concludes.

"Why?" A voice calls.

"Why? We have engaged in a duel with this one several times, they are impossible to predict, and they're duelling changes frequently. Very hard to predict, avoid at all costs. Right, that's it, get out there."

Silent, Bella watches them all disperse, legs resting on the desk. She hates being in the dark, especially hates this waiting game. Hoping these pricks will make a mistake.

"Hermione chose a good time to get away," Dolohov comments swigging his tea.

"What?" Bella asks, snapping from her daze.

"Well, with her being muggle-born, an official at the Ministry, she'd been high risk"

"Suppose," Bella concedes. "She'd probably move in with me if she were still here."

"I'm sure Tom would love that," Dolohov jokes. "Anyway, how is Hermione's father?"

"Not good," Bella answers, that's what the fake letter she has on her desk states at any rate.

"That sucks, what's got you so morose?"

"Curfew," Bella sighs rubbing her forehead. "Minister is announcing it later this week."

"Shit."

"My thought exactly."

September 1st…

Dear Bella,

Happy Birthday! Although, given Croaker's ability to never deliver my post on time I'm sure this letter will be late. I hope you liked your present, it can be returned if you do not. It may have something to do with Tom's present, he seemed so lost about what to get you. I had to help at the time. I know you will love it, we've talked about so many times.

For the record I do not like mussels, I had awful food poisoning these last few days. It's all rather comical if I weren't feeling so rough. Luckily for me, someone here is not afraid of sick. They're looking after me.

I'm sorry this is short, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I'll message again soon when I am no longer suffering from vertigo.

Love,

Hermione

Dropping the letter, Bella watches absently as it goes up in smoke the fake letters piling up on the edge of her desk. A request from Croaker to leave them in view on the odd occasion. It will help with the ruse if the cleaners find the letters.

Sighing, Bella cradles the dagger gifted to her by Hermione. It may be a relic, but she has added it to her collection. She takes it everywhere, attached to her inner thigh.

A surprise to receive the gift from Tom, a spontaneous weekend away. A trip to Rome. She had never mentioned Rome to Tom, she was almost prepared to go interrogate him, to see if he had invaded her mind. Only to receive a letter from Hermione, a thoughtful gift. Except it doesn't feel thoughtful. It feels as though a betrayal. She only wanted to go to Rome after reading some of Hermione's muggle books. She had wanted to go with Hermione. They had discussed it, a promise to go one day just them two. Not Tom.

She hadn't wanted to go with Tom, the thought never crossed her mind to go away with Tom. The clock ticks loudly, a reminder time is due, tomorrow she will be heading to Rome for a short break. Even as she packed her bag, even now sitting at her desk, she doesn't want to go, and for the life of her she cannot figure out why.

"Bella," Dolohov announces sliding into her office. "Minister wants us now."

"Coming."

September 15th…

Dear Bella,

I'm sorry your trip got cancelled, you must be so disappointed. Hopefully, you will be able to reorganise. It's hard to imagine a curfew, harder to imagine the recent attack on the Ministry. I'm in half the mind to return home, not as though I can do anything. I just worry about you, please stay safe.

I have a favour to ask, I know you are extremely busy, so I would understand if you said no. You may have noticed the muggle money attached to this letter. The 18th of September is the anniversary of my mother's death. I normally take her flowers, white roses and blue iris they were her favourite. The directions are at the bottom of the letter, I will understand if you are unable to do this. I would ask Mercy… but despite being unspeakable she is not very good at keeping things to herself. I would be in your debt.

I managed to catch up on Doctor Who, did you catch the latest episodes? I miss watching it with you, I miss cuddling Crooks. I hope he is behaving; I can only imagine the mess my apartment is in due to Ginny. I dread to think to be honest. I've attached a couple of pictures, I know you will love them.

I miss you.

Stay safe, love,

Hermione.

"Auror Black?" The voice snaps her from her thoughts. "Can I help you?"

Why is she here again? Oh yes, she remembers staring at the various muggle items on display. Colin Creevey standing hands clasped together staring at her in slight wonder. If only her ancestors could see her now, they would be rolling in their graves at the very thought of her entertaining this idea.

"I… I need something to take a picture," Bella states slowly, studying the different items on display. "Do you have something that prints off instantly?"

"Depends, they don't provide the best pictures."

"I see." She will need to rethink this.

"I do have this camera, you can take the pictures and bring them to me, and I will be able to produce them for you?"

"How long?"

"To produce?"

"Yes,"

"A day."

"Very well, how much?"

September 18th…

Here lies

Jean Granger

Loving mother

It's a cool day, the sun shining, winter is approaching, and the air is chillier than normal. No longer the stuffy heat, but a chill that lingers. Perhaps it's all the crap that's happening, perhaps it's her mood. Maybe the fact she's sat in a cemetery, in front of Jean Granger's tombstone, the flowers displayed.

They are beautiful flowers; Hermione had suggested the florist in with the directions to the cemetery the tombstone was well kept. She must visit regularly. Sighing, Hermione would have been eight when her mother died.

Bella isn't sure how, but she has learnt more about Hermione since the witch has been away than all the time they've spent together. It makes her curious, is this why Hermione is estranged from her father?

Rising to her feet, she heads to the witch's flat, she has one last thing to do today before she heads home. The flat is clean, and tidy, as though Ginny isn't even living here. If Hermione knew, Bella had sent an elf to look after the flat, to tidy up after the witch. She couldn't stand the mess any longer, not that she would ever admit it to Hermione. She will ensure Ginny will keep her mouth shut, Hermione will have hung and quartered if she found out an elf was looking after her flat.

"Hey Crooks," Bella coos as the cat trundles towards her.

Scooping the cat up, she cradles him as she moves about the room, throwing the post onto the gradually growing pile. Purring, Crooks stares up at her adoringly as she rubs his chin.

"Behave," Bella warns as she sets the cat down on the table.

Pulling the camera from her pocket, she angles it snapping several pictures of the cat. Smiling, she will get Creevey to print the best picture off, then send it in the next letter to Hermione. The witch sounds as though she could do with a pickup.

"NO!" Bella snaps as Crooks launches through the air.

Wincing as the cat crashes into the bookshelf, items flying everywhere. A vase smashing against the floor. Cursing, Bella tries to catch the stupid cat as it continues to chase a fly across the room. A click as it disappears through the magical cat flap. Bugger. She stares at the mess on the floor, drawing her wand, she releases a breath.

Frowning, she lowers her wands shifting through the broken vase and frowning at the crumpled-up letters. She plucks them free, recognising Hermione's handwriting but not the other's.

My dearest pumpkin,

I know we have not spoken in some years, nevertheless, I would love you to come to visit. There is much for us to discuss, and I would much prefer to do it in person.

Forever yours,

Dad.

Dear Hermione,

I heard you have changed careers; I know you had always wanted to become Minister of Magic, this is something you have wanted to do for a long time. I hope everything is okay, I am here if you would like to talk.

Dad.

Dear Hermione,

I understand you are angry, I heard from your aunt that you have an apartment in London. That you are no longer dating Ron, he seemed a decent chap, I hope you are well.

Dad.

Dear Hermione,

I know you are living with Ron and his family. I want you to know despite moving to Australia, the family home is still vacant, you are welcome to stay there should you wish. I do wish you would speak to me; I do not like how we left things.

Dad.

My dearest Hermione,

How we left things the other day, is not how I wanted you to find out. I would much prefer to have this conversation in person. Please.

Dad.

Pausing, Bella holds the most crumpled letter in her hand, the tear marks she can make out easily. She shouldn't read this, she should leave, put it all back together and pretend she never found it.

Dear Hermione,

I had hoped to have this conversation in person, however, I understand your silence, so I have no choice but to write to you.

Your mother loved you very much I know learning of her death has upset you. I know you blame me, but I must explain. Your mother was a very sick woman, but she loved you very much. When you were born, it was the highlight of our lives, your mother had to stop taking her meds during pregnancy. Over time, she refused to start taking them, she claimed to feel better, it was an oversight, I shouldn't have believed her. She cared for you, loved you, then one day I returned home from work. She had been hearing voices again, the police had been called. The neighbours had called them, your mother was in a midst of an episode. You were but one year old.

Due to risk to your life, you were taken into social services while your mother and I contended with the police. During this time, your mother had grown gradually worse, she had stopped eating. The voices had increased. She was not in good shape. She set fire to the house, trying to stop the voices. She was admitted to a psychiatric ward, I thought this was for the best.

You were released back into my care, we moved homes, and started fresh. I kept in touch with the doctors in charge of your mother's care. Schizophrenia is a horrible illness, but she was too much of a risk to you. When she became lucid, it broke her heart to learn what had happened.

She had tried to reach out to you. This was my first mistake, I feared social services would take you away if she came back into our lives. You had started asking about your mother, I was at a loss at what to do. So, I told you she left, gone away, I should never have lied to you. You grew up resenting your mother, I could see it eating away at you. I could never tell you when I heard the news she had committed suicide, it was better pretending she had simply left. I was a fool.

When you became eighteen, the solicitor in charge of her estate handed you that letter from your mother. The truth. Perhaps from the start, I should have just told you the truth. I was scared, however, of losing you, of seeing you hurt. I thought if I shielded you from the truth, I would shield you from the pain.

I was mistaken.

Please, Hermione. Let me make this up to you.

With all my love.

Dad.

Dear Hermione,

I know you have not been in touch for some time, I know your father still writes to you. I also know he struggles to tell you the truth. His cancer is back. The doctor does not think he will make it past a year. I urge you to come to see him. Let history be what it is. History.

Your loving step-mother,

Jane.

Wiping a tear away, Bella drops the letter, the dates obscured, old. They're all old, except the one from the stepmother. Swallowing, Bella pushes to her feet, and with a swish of her wand, she restores the flat to its original state. The clock chimes in the background, ten pm.

"Bugger,"

Cursing, she rushes from the flat heading towards Riddle's house, there's meant to be a dinner party. She arrives in a flash, shedding her cloak she throws it on a waiting hook, moving through the house.

Silence, then she pauses outside the living room, with a nudge she pushes the open heading into the room. She finds Riddle sitting on an armchair staring at the open fire. Bugger.

"Tom…"

"Save it," Tom sighs pushing to his feet.

"I'm sorry, work ran late."

"Did it? I swung by your office, you weren't there."

"I… had some errands to run…"

"At Hermione's?"

"I…"

"Bella, I am your partner," Tom interrupts. "You spend more time at Hermione's flat or writing her letters than you do with me."

"I missed one stupid dinner," Bella groans. "Please,"

"Stupid dinner?" Tom scoffs. "Is that what you see my campaign as?"

"No, don't twist my words," Bella snaps. "One dinner, I didn't sign up for this crap, I'm not a politician, I don't enjoy these events."

"No, but I need you."

"You need me? Or do you need my surname?" Bella demands angrily.

Speechless, Tom stares back, unable to form words.

"That… That is a harsh accusation,"

"Is it Tom?" Bella laughs. "Because we are sure as hell don't do anything fucking else. All we do is go to dinner parties with people you want to vote for you."

"We would have gone abroad if you didn't cancel."

"There was an attack on the ministry I …"

"You have a team, are they not capable?"

"I am in charge, I can't just swan off whenever I feel like it."

"Like you did today?"

"I'm not having this argument," Bella replies.

"The girl I not even here and she comes between us."

"IS your ego that fucking small, that my friendship with Hermione threatens you?"

"The girl is half a world away," Tom snaps eyes flashing a different hue. "Still you spend more time with her."

"Perhaps it's because we have more in common."
"Or perhaps it…"

He trails off, biting his tongue as he turns back to the fire.

"Perhaps what Tom? Spit it out."

"It's cruel of you Bella,"

"What is?"

"It's obvious the girl has a crush on you, and you string her along. It's cruel."

"She doesn't…"

"Bella," Tom interrupts. "It's always nice to be wanted, but to string another along… Well, it's cruel. Now, I wish to be alone, please."

Furious, Bella slams the door on her way out for good measure, ensuring the house shakes. She apparates home, the camera heavy in her pocket. Hermione doesn't have a crush on her, it's ridiculous. Tom is just pissed she missed their dinner…

Pausing, she places the camera down on the table. Hermione doesn't have a crush on her, they're just friends. That's it. Just friends. Hermione doesn't have a crush… does she? Is Bella just stringing Hermione along? Sure, she enjoys the attention, but they're just friends. Aren't they?