The Portkey successfully transported them to Malfoy's mansion. They arrived at one of the sitting rooms located on the first floor. The only sound audible in the room were the heavy gasps coming from both witches. Hermione had hardly acknowledged her new surroundings; her eyes were lost looking at nothing, and her fingers trembled lightly. Tides of panic continued crashing on her system. That was all she could feel or think of.

Bellatrix, who already had her fair share of encounters with Dementors, was faster to recover from their pervasive touch. Displaying collectedness on features, she turned to face the girl, who was cleaning the tears off from her cheeks.

Her upper lip raised. "What took you so long, girl?!" The dark witch pushed her by the shoulder to get her attention.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Hermione slapped the hand away as soon as the fingers came in contact with her clothes, as if the mere touch of the woman would burn her.

The haunted look was left behind; enraged brown eyes stared piercingly at the woman. "Fuck you, Bellatrix! This was all your fault!" She seethed; her chest felt like it was about to explode if she didn't talk. "What happened tonight could have been avoided if only you could get a handle of your volatile temper! Your bloody unwillingness to work together, to— to pool our resources! You led us to tonight's clusterfuck!" Her lips trembled with all the accumulated emotions. "Starting from the fact that you didn't warn me of the residents of that place. I could have taken a different approach if you have told me! Let's not even talk about how terrible the confrontation with Karkaroff went. You are bloody capricious and reckless! Like a damn child!"

Bellatrix didn't utter a single, neither did she attempt to do anything during the girl's rant. With arms crossed, a tilted head, and murderous black eyes, the dark witch let the girl finish her rant.

Until later, Hermione realized that Bellatrix allowed her to enter into a sense of security by no reacting to the girl's rant. Something that the Death Eater wanted to do for her strategy to work flawlessly.

In an impossibly fast motion, in one stride and with an arm extended, Bellatrix took a fist of brown hair behind the girl's head, then pulled violently the girl towards her body. A grunt of pain came from the aggressive yank at her hair.

Hermione didn't push back, neither did she intend to take her wand out the hostler. The older woman's expression said something close to 'don't even think about it.' No matter how much she wanted to, she didn't resist.

However, being in this position it didn't deter her from staring at the woman with defiance, connecting with the burning charcoal eyes. Strangely, as she kept staring, there were motes of darker grey over her iris. Clearly, the side effects of coming to contact with dementors.

'She was touched by dementors too.' Hermione assumed that she hadn't, considering that she didn't look scared in the slightest.

The woman drew nearer to the girl's ear. Sharp nails dug into the skin of her nape; soft black curls unintentionally caressed her cheek. The woman's natural scent invaded her nostrils once more, but this time it didn't taste sweet in her mouth, on the contrary, it was bitter and vinegary.

"Let me give you a little warning, mudblood" Her voice was husky, slow, and very threatening. The tip of a wand was digging on her right under her ribcage. "You won't talk to me like that ever again. I will kill you if you do. That. I promise." The grip on her neck turned tighter; a muffled whimper left her mouth. While the earlier touch felt something that could be described as soft magic mingling and dancing on her skin, this touch was very different. It gave her a prickling sensation all over the back of her head to her tail bone, like tiny needles penetrating her skin.

The woman's voice changed to a syrupy tone full of disdain "Now stupid filth, let me ask you something. If you didn't know about the village, did you ask if I knew the place? Did you ask me if I knew the informant? Did you ask for my advice?"

Brown eyes dropped to the ground for a short span.

"No, you didn't." To emphasize her words, Bellatrix turned to look at the girl in the eye. "Then don't moan at me about things not going the way you wanted them to go. Filthy mudblood."

Hermione didn't care at this point what might happen next; empowered by her lack of self-preservation, she glowered at the woman. "How?! How do you expect for me to ask you something when you are taunting me and calling me names all the time? Or straightforward ignoring me like what happened with Karkaroff"

A dry chuckle, one dark eyebrow curved questioningly. "Oh, did you want me to coddle you?" Then, she mockingly gasped, making a worried face, "Did I hurt your fee-fees?"

The face fell with grave intent, her chin raised slightly, "You are a mudblood. The dirt under my boot and nothing else. I will call you however I want."

"Well, this fucking mudblood saved your life!" Hermione said, baring her teeth, thinking at the moment Karkaroff's spell threw the woman from the broom.

Bellatrix's arrogance slowly drained from her face, turning sober and contemplative. "That you did." Her voice adopted a grave tone. Yet the grip on brown hair never wavered. "A now do you understand?" Her memory was different from Hermione's. If the brunette wouldn't have used the coin to let her escape from the root's grip, she would be probably dead. "Why are you not on the floor dead? Why I decided to oversee your little lack of judgment?"

The woman took one last look. "Do not forget your place, filth" She released her, right after she pushed her by the shoulders.

Hermione lost her balance falling on the floor, bending her torso in discomfort. The impact of the fall made her wound pulse in pain. "Fuck you, Lestrange." Her fingers itched to take out her wand, but the thought and intention only stayed at that. She couldn't do it, especially not when Bellatrix stood there looking down on her, silently telling her to give her an excuse to hurt her.

The large door of the study slid open, uprooting the atmosphere between both witches. Narcissa entered the room in what appeared to be sleeping clothes.

The thick tension that had been fermenting in the room, was diminished by the inquisitive presence of the blonde. "Everything alright?" She asked, looking at her sister. Her face didn't reflect any emotion; the question seemed to come out of courtesy more than any sort of concern. "The charms activated in the room." The blonde explained.

"Bloody wonderful." Reply Bellatrix, her eyes jumped from the girl to her sister.

Her blue eyes moved from her sarcastic sister towards the girl, who covered her left side with her hand; her hair disheveled and clothes awfully dirty. Much worse than the older sister's appearance.

Narcissa stepped forward into the room "You look hungry, Bellatrix. I'll ask the elf to prepare you something." Her voice was emotionless, not even bothering to match her words with what she said. "Or perhaps you'll like a bath first?"

Bellatrix released a humorless chuckle. "No need, I'll go myself." She spared one last look to the pitiful girl and left the room.

Narcissa kept looking at the girl with a stoic demeanor.

Brown eyes dropped a little, her jaw clenched thinking that probably the woman was just silently relishing in her disgrace. Unwilling to become the entertainment of another pure-blood, Hermione stood up, wanting to leave the room with what was little left of her dignity.

As she passed by Narcissa's side, the woman rested her hand in her shoulder. Hermione unconsciously flinched at the unexpected touch. "I have experience with healing. Allow me to help you with your wounds." Said the blue-eyed woman.

The brunette gave her a guarded look. Narcissa maintained her expressionless façade.

Since when this woman was suddenly so concern with her well-being? Considering that their last encounter wasn't very amenable. Beyond doubt, there was an ulterior motive here, waiting to be uncovered.

And while Hermione didn't see lies, nor she saw sincerity.

Seeing the hesitation in the girl's face Narcissa added: "At least let me see the injury and I'll give you the potions you need."

As if on cue, the wound reminded her that it was still there and perhaps open again.

Against her better judgment, Hermione accepted.

Narcissa turned around and walked out of the room, looking behind her shoulder to see if the girl was following her. Hermione kept a safe distance from the woman, letting her know she wasn't fully trusting her intentions. The blonde led the brunette towards the right wing, where her personal quarters were. A forbidden section for the guests, something that didn't deter Hermione considering that she had been here before when she borrowed books from Narcissa's private library to further her own research.

They walked in silence. The muffled steps of the witches on the carmine carpet was the only sound filling the space between them.

Narcissa opened the heavy mahogany door, stepping aside, her hand made an inviting motion to let the girl pass. Hermione stood there, unmoving, clearly unwilling to go first. Without any remark, the blonde calmly walked into the room. The girl followed after her.

"Take a sit and remove your upper clothes." Narcissa advanced towards a large wooden cabinet.

The room was furnished with a similar style than the rest of the mansion; except for the small bed in the corner that seemed more like a hospital bed than a typical bed. The cabinets displayed many different potions that Hermione didn't recognize at first sight. Between the cabinets, there was a long desk with sets of instruments and other essentials for potion making as well as alchemy. The brunette now understood why the woman was surveying her ingredients with such interest that time she was in her room. The blonde woman seemed to be an enthusiast of brewing potions.

Hermione proceeded to remove her upper clothes caked with dried mud. Dried blood was glued to her wound, making her wince in discomfort.

"Why are you helping me?" Asked the girl as she sat on the bed, her tone was neutral. If Narcissa weren't with her back turned, she would have seen the obvious distrust in brown eyes. "I thought you hated my kind."

Narcissa chose that second to turn around; her eyes were cold, indifferent. "I'm under the orders of the Dark Lord to assist in whatever capacity. That includes healing you." Hermione searched through her face a sign of deceit, but she was quickly learning that Narcissa hid her emotions effectively. Nevertheless, her gut told her that even if her words were to be true, the reason behind it, wasn't. No matter what Voldemort ordered her to do.

"Let me see." Said the woman. "Raise your arm a little."

Hermione stared into the ocean-blue orbs inspecting her wound as if trying to read her thoughts.

The woman's eyes brows furrowed slightly; the tip of her finger grazed lightly over the injury, making the brunette take a sharp breath. "It definitely needs attention, as it has the risk to get infected" The woman informed her.

"I think it's cursed with an Agony hex," Hermione said. The last thing she wanted to do was to look down and see that the injury was worse than her original estimation.

Narcissa nodded "I see it. Let me see if I have something for that." Returning to the tall cabinet, several tiny drawers were opened as she took out different ingredients from each one. The ingredients were placed one by one on a balance to measure the necessary quantity for each one. From the lowest cabinet, Narcissa took out what looked like a small bowl.

The blonde placed all the components into a mortar and with a pestle started to break and mix them together.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, letting her muscles relax if only a little. She had been working overtime. The exact time of the night eluded her, but she was pretty sure dawn was about to come out very soon.

Her tired mind focused on the noise of the pestle hitting against the mortar. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had heard that so familiar noise. Such simple noise made her think of Hogwarts, of her Potions and Herbology classes. It made her think about how happy she used to be; so eager to learn everything she could get her hands on.

At moments like this, which were very scarce, she would indulge to left her thoughts drift towards the land of 'what if.' What if she didn't have imprinted on Bellatrix? Would her parents be alive? Most likely. What if she could have foreseen Dumbledore's plan? Would she have joined the Death Eaters? What if she didn't become infected with lycanthropy? How different would her life be?

'One bad day, it took one awful day for my life to change 180°degrees.'

Her body started to feel heavier by the second.

Narcissa grabbed a wooden chair and sat in front of the girl "I have to clean the injury manually, first."

Hermione opened her eyes, feeling slightly muzzy. A heartbeat later the ripple of pain caused by the woman's treatment fully awoke her again. She flinched at the touch but didn't withdraw from it.

"Did my sister did this?" Narcissa asked, conversationally. Her voice was tender and feminine without being girly. It sounded graceful to the girl's ears. "Move a little to your right."

Hermione held a snort back; there was something amusing on the fact that Narcissa would consider first that Bellatrix had harmed her, instead of asking if she was maimed by another witch or wizard. "No. Karkaroff did it."

"Did you kill him?" Soft fingers carefully removed any remaining dirt and small strands of fabrics mixed with blood and flesh. Narcissa had a nice touch, Hermione thought. Her brown eyes kept stealing glances at the woman, who seemed fully focused on her task. She couldn't help herself but to appreciate now that the blonde had the hair loose, it made her look younger than she was.

"Bellatrix did… I just distracted him." She replied. A soft hum returned in acknowledgment. "How bad is it? I haven't dared to see it"

"It did a large cut, from here…" Narcissa put a finger just under her breast "…to here" pointing the beginning of her back. "At least 1 centimeter wide. You were lucky, it was meant to cut deep."

"Yeah, I know." She murmured. It almost cost her life by getting distracted, that was one thing she couldn't blame on Bellatrix.

The brunette let the woman do her thing, in the meantime she let her eyes wander around the room. From time to time, her eyes would unconsciously drift towards the blonde, taking small glimpses of her features.

Narcissa didn't look like Bellatrix at all, hard to believe they were sisters. The woman before her had thinner lips than Bellatrix's. Although they almost seemed to have almost the same chiseled nose, except that Narcissa's was pointier. The girl's eyes drifted towards her neck, Narcissa's had a rosy skin while Bellatrix was fully alabaster. Probably both had born with pale skin, but Narcissa's was naturally suntanned while the fact that Bellatrix had been hardly touched by the sun in 14 years, helped her preserve her original skin color.

Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes drifted at the indiscreet cleavage. She swallowed hard, realizing that the woman didn't have anything under her peignoir, she could clearly see the outline of her breast. Her gaze quickly fell to her lap, swallowing the first stirs of embarrassment mixed with confusion.

She took a quick glance at the woman's face, who seemed deep in concentration cleaning her injury. "You seem to like making potions." Her cheeks were tinted with light specks of red.

"Something of the sorts." The woman replied circumspectly. Narcissa finished cleaning the wound, hastily stood up to leave the material on the small table, then proceeded to grab the mortar.

"This room has nothing to ask from the local apothecary at Diagon Alley." It was true, this room seemed to have everything.

"I have always wanted to become Potion's Master." Despite her words, her tone betrayed nothing. She might have as well said she wanted to become a professional quidditch player and her voice would be equally detached. Uninterested.

The blonde pulled her wand and cast a spell to pour boiling water into the small bawl. Soon the smell of lavender and Namut root permeated the room.

"Why didn't you?" Her question sounded more like a challenge. Hermione didn't believe her.

"Real life happened, Miss Granger." Narcissa's tone made very clear that the conversation was closed. Yet, it was enough for Hermione to understand the ramifications of that comment. "Here, drink this. It serves for the wound doesn't get infected." Hermione took the small bottle and drank all its contents.

All the ingredients from the mortar were carefully placed into a white cloth. "This is going to burn." She warned.

Hermione hissed at the contact. The woman kept pressing the cloth over the whole injury, letting the active ingredients do their job.

At that moment blue eyes drifted the scar on the girl's right shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. "What happened to you?" Without a warning, Narcissa touched with her fingertips the rough and fractal scar.

The girl grabbed the woman's wrist, lightly pushing away from her. "Sorry, is a sore spot." Her hand opened, releasing the slim wrist. "It's a spell that went terribly wrong."

Narcissa submerged the cloth on the water left in the mortar, then applied the same method as before. "Why haven't you removed it?"

"I don't want to." A somber look manifested in her brown eyes. "Otherwise, I might forget how I got it." Just as Narcissa, Hermione silently implied that this line of conversation was not to be pursued any further.

They didn't talk after that.

When Narcissa was over Hermione summoned a shirt from her wardrobe and disposed of the muddied rags. "Thank you, Ms. Malfoy." Despite her distrust towards the woman didn't lessen at all, she made an effort for her voice to sound genuine.

At least this time, things were far better than the last encounter she had with the Malfoy matriarch in her room a week ago. It could have gone better, but the night before happened to be full moon; she often woke up cranky after her transformations.

Narcissa gave her two vials. "Here, this is for the rest of your bruises and this one for the blood you surely lost."

"Thank you again, Ms. Malfoy"

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."


Now that she was alone on her bed, sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes flashes of the earlier battle came to the front of her mind. The smell, the magic, and the fear were all there. The fact that Dementors had touched her just added the cherry on top of this disgraceful night.

She wondered if Bellatrix was having the same trouble while trying to sleep. Probably not, assumed the girl. It must be the dementor having trouble sleeping after what that thing has seen in Bellatrix's mind. She snorted loudly at the silly thought.

Bellatrix…

'What a horrible witch she is.' But somehow she found that the woman calling names didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. It annoyed her, yes. But it didn't hurt her or made her feel bad about herself. She couldn't care less, actually.

What truly bothered her was how responsive she was to her touch and smell. Now that was worrying.

'I need to stop it' She did a mental note to increase the dose on the potion tomorrow, then see how things develop from there.

Her fingers reached for the scar on her side. It was still rough on the edges; Narcissa told her it would take two more days to fully heal. Thankfully the pain was gone. She could tell the woman did a good job.

Hermione rolled on her good side. Her mind assaulted her with the image of Narcissa's body and the fact that she wasn't wearing anything under. Why suddenly did she find herself so embarrassed about it? And worse of all, why she was slightly aroused at the thought? The question she had been asking herself since Bellatrix became her imprint came back to haunt her.

'Do I really like women?'


It was midafternoon when Hermione arrived in the dining room. Having skipped breakfast, her stomach demanded sustenance. The confident pace faltered for a beat; she was surprised to find people in the room at this hour. Dolohov and Yaxley were sitting in front of each other, she was sure that they were having a heated discussion before she made her entrance in the room. Now, they just were looking at her with curiosity mixed with distrust. At the other end of the table was Lucius and Narcissa drinking tea.

How weird it was to find more than two people in a room. The mansion was spacious, to say the least. A large display of opulence and vanity. Hard to imagine that originally there were only three people living here.

She walked halfway, of what the brunette considered, an unnecessarily long table. The blue-eyed woman acknowledged her presence with a simple look directed at her; Hermione returned the gesture with a short-lived smile. Her husband, on the other hand, pretended she didn't exist.

The brunette sat on one of the many chairs. Just as soon she snapped her fingers, and one of the three elves usually attending the kitchens appeared in front of her.

"What would Miss like to eat? Or drink?" Asked the young elf.

"Whatever you have already, or it doesn't take too much time to prepare. And a cup of black tea, loaded, please." A kind smile painted the girl's rosy lips.

"At the order, Miss." The elf said diligently.

The brunette reclined on the backrest and waited for her food to arrive. Her face was pointing upfront, staring at the large windows that presented the view of the outside garden and the white peacocks frolicking nearby. All the while her ears were set to pick up whatever both parties were speaking between themselves. Specially Dolohov, who kept stealing glances her way.

First Greyback. Now, Dolohov. She wondered if Bellatrix had to be added on her list too considering what happened yesterday.

'No, if Bellatrix wanted to hurt me, she doesn't need to plot for it.' She couldn't be wary of her all the time. It would drive her crazy.

The elf apparated with a soft pop, placing the meal and tea in front of her.

Hermione saw what the elf brought to her, sausages, eggs, ham, a full plate of tropical fruit, toast with jam. Satisfied with the contents, she smiled. "Looks delicious, thank you."

"You are most welcome, miss." The elf emotionally replied, touched by her short but kind words, before disappearing again.

Hermione started to taste the contents of her plate when she heard a shriek — typical of wood being dragged over another wooden surface— that came from her left. Her hand went to her wand in reflex, carefully listening to the large steps approaching her way. The brunette pretended to be oblivious to the surroundings and took a small bite of her sausage.

The figure stopped next to her. She delayed her attention for a moment before acknowledging the presence. Dolohov was looking at her, with an expressionless face. His wand wasn't anywhere visible. Brown eyes spared a single glance, then she returned to her meal.

"I heard that Lestrange and you made all this."

He threw the newspaper on the table next to her plate. There it was, on the first page of the Daily Prophet, the clearing they were last night at. White sheets covered the dismembered bodies on the soil, while multiple Aurors moved around the ground looking for clues; the cherry on top was the thoroughly burned forest in the background.

Hermione took a large bite from a piece of toast, her taste buds danced in bliss. These elves knew how to make their bread!

Mass murder in the northern islands.

Yesterday an anonymous source reported to the Aurors, posted in Iseville, the disappearance of many wizards at the southeast of the Vertwood village. The two Aurors responded according to protocol and headed to investigate. They arrived at the scene guided by the wildfire caused by unknown reasons at the moment. "We knew something bad might have happened, but we never imagined this" Andrew L., one of the two Aurors said in a statement. What they found could only be described as heinous in nature. "We sent a Patronus immediately to the Auror Department at the Ministry," Andrew said.

The two Aurors received immediate assistance. Led by the Head of Auror Department: Gawain Robards, a larger group of Aurors came expeditiously to investigate. As their first response was to send Dementors to track any possible perpetrator. An official statement claims that they found no one in the area.

At the present moment, the authorities have found 14 bodies, mostly all are lacking limbs one way or another. The note sent by the anonymous source mentioned that Death Eaters were involved in the crime, however, the authorities still have to give a statement about the motivation behind the massacre or whether Death Eaters have a direct relation to it. As for the moment many belongings from a small lodge, located nearby from where the massacre took place, are being taken into custody, hoping it'll provide further insight into what happened there.

Some of the deceased were recognized as wanted criminals by the Ministry such as…

"16," Hermione said between bites in a monotone voice. Her eyes connected with Dolohov; the man didn't seem to understand what she meant. "There were 16 people besides Lestrange and me, which means they haven't found Karkaroff charred corpse or they did and haven't reported it yet. And the other one, they will never find him as he was blown up into tiny little pieces." She threw the paper on the table pushing it towards Dolohov "And I assume that the anonymous source was a man that calls himself Mr. H, he was an acquaintance of the deceased." Hermione spared one last look to the Death Eater, before fully returning to her meal.

'Of course, they had to take the books. Damn it.'

Dolohov raised his eyebrows, a smile formed on his lips. Accepting the answer, he walked back to the other man who was waiting for him at the main door. "I won. Pay up, Yaxley" was the last thing Hermione heard before the two men left the room.

She took a glimpse to her right and noticed that Narcissa and Lucius stayed silent sipping their teas, evidently, they had paid attention to her interaction with Dolohov.

Lucius picked something from his lap and placed it on the table. It was another copy of the Daily Prophet.

'Good, now they know what I'm capable of'

Hermione's eyes fluttered at the taste of the elves' handcrafted jam.


Hermione spent the whole day hole up alone in the library till late in the evening, her eyes kept avidly devouring the book on her hands and taking notes when she happened to find something relevant.

'…After a long-term transformation in Animagus form the patient might need medical help to fully recover their physical human form, as remnants of their transformation are present in their mind and body, the treatment varies on the severity of the case, from days to weeks or even months…'

"…Hmm, I wasn't wrong. Pixie dust might be necessary after all." Hermione muttered to herself.

The brunette was completely absorbed in her book and thoughts that she was unaware that her Occlumency shields weren't properly raised. And more importantly, she never did notice the presence until it was already inside her head.

"What have you found?" Words bounced in her head like the voice of her own conscience; the difference was that her inner voice sounded like her own voice. This voice, was raspy, like an old person, and yet it had the mirth and petulance of a child. Sometimes, the vowels were stretched at the end of a sentence.

Hermione lowered her book, staring down closer to her feet where there was a giant snake looking at her with those bright yellow predatory eyes.

"Hello to you too." She replied, somewhat amused.

Nagini didn't say anything else or moved, she continued gazing at the brunette; every three seconds her forked tongue would come out her mouth like a black leather whip.

Brown eyes roamed along the snake's large body, today she looked very well-fed, rounded, a little bit fat, really. She seemed to had a large dinner, surely another victim of the Lord's temper.

"Is rude to stare," Nagini said, yet there wasn't any sign of reproach on her voice.

"You are doing the same"

"You haven't answered my question."

The brunette released a frustrated sigh, the snake was just as demanding as her master and didn't know how to ask things properly. "I need to do more investigation before I can honestly say anything." She reclined her body on the backseat and pointed at the book on her lap, letting the snake know that she just interrupted her research. "For now, knowing where it came from can help us to understand the curse."

"This book" She pointed at the recently acquired book the day before "mentions another source from the curse that is not related to Metamorphmagi or Animagus."

Nagini's large body started to clumsily coil, Hermione had learned to recognize as a sign that she was getting comfortable. Which in this case, the snake was interested in listening about what Hermione had to say.

Due to Nagini's body was especially large tonight, it took her longer to fully accommodate herself. Hermione smiled at the sight.

"Have you ever heard of Nüwa?"

"The snake goddess. Mother used to tell me stories about her when I was a little babe. I know that she became revered by the muggles a long time ago. Why you ask?"

"Well, according to this material, it says that the descendants of Nüwa were condemned to be born snakes, but perhaps the spell went wrong and…" Hermione couldn't hold back her curiosity anymore and asked: "How old are you?" She remembered, Nagini telling her small fragments of memories about things that happened more than 30 years ago.

The snake stared at her, with the same inactive expression. Considering that she only had two expressions, neutral and pissed, Hermione preferred the neutral one better, which meant she wasn't pissed at her for such an innocent question.

She waited a few more moments before giving up. "Fine then, ignore me." She crossed her arms.

"We are not alone. Your mate is here." Hermione glanced at to where Nagini was looking at. Bellatrix was leaning on one of the many bookcases watching the interaction from afar. Her face didn't reflect anything more than a hardened expression.

'Now what is she angry about?' She noticed how her boots were fully mudded up to the ankle, there were stains of mud on her dueling pants too. And the brunette was sure that the bright stain on her corset was fresh blood. 'She has come from killing someone.'

"…That thing is not my mate, Nagini" Hermione switched channels of communication.

"Isn't it?" If Nagini could smile, she would be doing it right now. The rough serpentine voice in her head had an amused undertone laying in between.

"No, it is not." Hermione refuted. "You have no idea what you are talking about."

"Then tell me, why your heart accelerated at the sight of her?"

"Because every time we are the same room, we only end up fighting." Their last spat still tasted very bitter under her palate. She glared at the dark witch; a subtle cue stating where they stood.

Nagini uncoiled, her large body accidentally pushed the tower of books the girl had placed close to her. "We'll meet again. I wish you…luck."

Bellatrix looked down as the snake pass by her; the animal ignored her presence. Brown eyes observed the small sneer that formed on pale features. It only lasted for half a second, but it was there. She found that piece of information interesting, Lestrange didn't like her master's pet.

The brunette pushed herself up from her seat, the back of her thighs reclined against the edge of the desk, "What do you want, Lestrange?" Her arms crossed, coming out right defensive.


Hermione knocked on the heavy wood door as she stepped inside. Her sight gradually adapted to the dimmed room; floating candles were situated in the corners and the ceiling, giving the room the exact amount of illumination to be able to walk inside without knocking something, but not enough to see the exact details on the objects.

With tentative steps, she approached the intimidating wizard. "My lord, you called for me?" Voldemort sat next to the balcony; his eyes were set over the dark forest. The wizard reclined his head to the right and looked back at her.

"Ah, Hermione." He greeted lazily. "Do take a seat, my dear."

Hermione sat one of the divans located in the center of the spacious room. Curious eyes roamed to what little she could appreciate from the place. The room's decoration reflected the tastes of another person rather than the Malfoy's. The carpet seemed to be cream-colored, the ceiling was made of wood; artfully enchanted with different intrinsic patterns that took shape of the four elements and magical creatures. The fabric of the sofas shined under dimmed light, like very small particles of glimmering dust was sprinkled on them.

'How peculiar his tastes are.'

The Dark Lord stood up and walked towards the other seat in front of her.

His red eyes settled on the woman who had entered after the girl. "Bellatrix, sit with us." One long ashen hand motioned towards the armchair, a little more distanced from both divans.

Ruby red eyes stared at the brunette, "Bellatrix already told me what happened yesterday." His eyes didn't display any approval or satisfaction, his voice was raspy but lacked sharpness. That wasn't very encouraging. Insecurity started to stir in Hermione. Was he angry? She wondered.

Her hands closed into fists, clutching the fabric of her ropes tightly between her fingers. Surely Bellatrix was willing to step so low as to lie to make her look bad in front of Voldemort. If that were the case, Hermione was ready to defend herself, to say her arguments against the woman. Her steaming anger didn't last much, though.

"She said you did quite well." Now he sounded pleased. "Isn't that what you mentioned, Bella?"

"Indeed, I did. My Lord." Said Bellatrix, noncommittal.

Those words disarmed Hermione, leaving her mind stunted for a second. Her eyes drifted towards the woman and gauge her expression; what she saw was a woman with a bored expression, with arms and legs crossed.

"That you single-handedly defeated 4 skilled wizards and held your ground against Karkaroff for a long time. Is that true?"

Hermione just nodded, unsure that her vocals cords were working properly.

'Did Bellatrix compliment me in front of Voldemort?'

"Tell me, Hermione, did you like it?" The corner of his lips tugged little upwards. "The thrill of the battle, killing them, did you enjoy it?"

When people said aftershocks of battle, they usually referred at the eye twitching, the trembling hand, and other behaviors that came after violent experiences. Hermione still felt the aftershocks of battle, in a very different way. The residues of the thrill she felt when using every bit of magic to destroy and maim, still tingled under her skin when she thought about it.

'…I felt powerful.'

"Yes, I did. My Lord."

Voldemort hummed with evident approval. His arm extended close to Hermione, and from the palm of his hand, he conjured a thick white smoke that slowly took the shape of a person.

Hermione squinted at the figure; it was Karkaroff. "There is always something…" He made a pause, to make sure the girl was paying attention; red eyes connected with brown ones. The illusion spell morphed to color red as flames crept on the agonizing figure. Voldemort was replicating the way Karkaroff died. "…very thrilling in holding the life of others between your hands."

Slowly, the frame on his palm started to morph. The man grew a long white beard, with a pointy wizard hat on his head, then his robes changed to more colorful ones. "And then, extinguish their very light of life from their eyes. Till their eyes become ashen." A slow smile formed on the girl's lips while she observed the fire engulfing the suffering Dumbledore.

The dark wizard closed his palm, extinguishing the illusion.

"A wonderful feeling, my Lord" Added Bellatrix, who seemed calmer than earlier in the library.

'Is like having a power you never knew you could have. And when you have a taste of it, you discover you enjoy it.' She was close to voice out her thoughts but something inside her told to better keep it to herself. There was an underlying danger to make the conscious become even more conscious.

"However, you still got wounded." His words sounded reproachful. Brown eyes returned to see the wizard in surprise, there was no concern on his features, only disapproval.

"A minor injury my Lord." The brunette said, trying to break off the ashamed grimace of her face.

He made a motion with his hand implying that her words held no meaning. "But an injury nonetheless, which tells that you still lack skill."

"I'll practice more." Said the girl like a promise.

"I'm sure you will" The wizard proceeded to walk towards the balcony, he was contemplative for a short span. When he turned around, his eyes fixed on the girl; he uttered his message with stern eyes. "That's why I've tasked Bellatrix to train you. You're going to be under her tutelage."

A cold tremor rippled all over her body, concentrating all its energy on the nape of her head, raising gooseflesh all down her arms. Hermione turned to look at the woman, expecting to see her as disturbed as she felt herself. Instead, she found Bellatrix easing back on her sit, looking utterly indifferent to what was taking place in the room.

Wide-eyed, she returned to watch Voldemort. "Wh— What?"