Carpe Noctem

by APermann

"Remember when I told you I'd read her mind? I saw something peculiar. Bella, I think there's a possibility she could be— she could be a venor floccus." AU, centred around Hermione Granger, a very best friend of Draco Malfoy, back when she was just a fifteen-year-old kid dealing with her inner demons, trying to deny the growing interest in a mysterious Bellatrix Lestrange.

30. Mirages And Refractions

CARPE NOCTEM / MIRAGES AND REFRACTIONS / CH. 30

It wasn't until Bellatrix's blood pooled on the floor around her that the flummoxed Hermione was awakened to action. She immediately rifled through the bag that was lying at her knees, fumbling for her beaded purse. Come on; it was right on top! Plunging deeper, the tips of her fingers grazed the smooth surface of the beads. Her hand clenched around them, pulling out the purse before flinging it open and summoning Dittany from its depths.

It was going to be alright; Bellatrix was going to be alright...

Drawing closer and taking a better look at the unconscious witch, Hermione was momentarily struck by panic: Bellatrix's chest, as well as her hair and clothes, were stained with blood so thickly, it seemed impossible to detect the source of her injuries. But it was nothing alarming, was it? Hermione could clean up the blood and then, she would see; she would see where Bellatrix was wounded and she would make it better, right? She could make it better! Hermione pointed her wand at Bellatrix's chest, moving it gently in short, slow motions so as to sweep the blood off to the sides. There were cuts revealed as she did, marking Bellatrix's shoulders, collarbones, and her breasts; even her stomach seemed to be injured as fresh blood soaked through her robe right there.

What had Rodolphus done to you Bellatrix, what?

There was no time for upholding the decorum. Without thinking, Hermione dropped her wand and grasped the plunging neckline at Bellatrix's breasts, ripping the garment down to the hem of the leather corset before unfastening the busk and proceeding tearing the fabric all the way to her hips. She cleaned up the blood again, her head spinning upon noticing new incisions, some of them so deep the blood that was flowing out of them seemed black instead of red. But what forced tears into her eyes and a frightened gasp out of her mouth was a wound right under Bellatrix's brassiere, which was open and about as large as a tile.

"No, no, no..." she cried as she unstoppered the bottle and poured three drops of Dittany over the bleeding tissue that sizzled and momentarily disappeared behind a greenish smoke which, after it had cleared, revealed a wound that, although not bleeding anymore, still hadn't healed completely—but it was all Hermione felt confident doing. With tears oozing down her cheeks, she continued pouring Dittany drop by drop, onto the rest of the wounds that stitched themselves, leaving pristine white skin behind. After several moments of unceasing work, it seemed that Bellatrix was out of danger. She would still need to take The Blood-Replenishing potion, but she would be alright. She was going to be alright... Hermione fished the first aid kit out of her purse and gingerly dressed the wound, placing a clean gauze over the laceration and applying some tape around the edges before softly pressing down with her fingers to hold it in place.

"Billey!" she called up and even though he had no obligation to come to her, there was a quiet pop in the air nevertheless and the tiny house elf appeared at her side.

"Miss Hermio—" started Billey, but soon turned her name into screeching.

"Shhh, Billey, don't worry! She's alright," Hermione assured him quickly, leaning over Bellatrix to see if there were any cuts on her side left to heal. "She's just fainted but in your house, in one of the rooms upstairs... there's Rodolphus and I need you to check up on him and heal him if you can and then, then report back to me. I know I can hardly beseech any favours of you but please, Billey, if he asks, don't tell him anything of our whereabouts! Now, take this with you." She forced Dittany into his hand. "A drop for a minor injury, three for a major one. Go!"

The frightened Billey hadn't gotten a word out of his mouth before he was forced to depart with yet another quiet pop.

Hermione was taking deep swoops of breath, her heart thumping in her chest like a steam hammer. Regardless of what kind of person Rodolphus was, regardless of what he had done to Bellatrix, he was still a human being who had gotten crippled like a slaughtered animal himself and who Hermione couldn't, in all conscience, let bleed to death like one. She could only hope it wasn't too late.

Her eyes returned to Bellatrix. She glanced at the remnants of the black dress lying at her sides, drenched with blood, clammy and sticky and she knew she should do something to get it off of her but the thought of invading Bellatrix's privacy further than she already had mortified her more than she was willing to admit. Her hesitant eyes flicked to Bellatrix's hollow, milky-white stomach, then followed up the gauze that was affixed below the black lace covering her spilling breasts and lingered there until realisation dawned on her, and she looked away, blushing. She dipped into her purse again, drawing out her knitted blanket which she placed over Bellatrix's unmoving form. Then she pointed her wand at a piece of clothing that was sticking out of it and whispered, 'Evanesco'.

Hermione cast a troubled glance over the vast room. She thought of moving Bellatrix elsewhere as she deemed it unkind to leave her lying half-naked on the cold floor like this. Her eyes paused on a Victorian velvet sofa across from them. That should do it. She raised her wand but then the third pop echoed in the room as Billey returned, the seemingly empty bottle of Dittany falling from his hand and landing on the floor with a loud thud. His already wide eyes began to dilate even more as they stared at Hermione, pointing her wand at Bellatrix.

In an instant, Hermione lowered her arm. "Please be calm, Billey, I'm only trying to help," she paused and then asked, gravely afraid of the answer, "You're back quickly... Did you find him? Is Rodolphus alright?"

Billey hesitated a second before nodding and the relieved Hermione let out a heavy sigh.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed quietly, straining not to imagine the consequences that would have ensued if the situation had a different outcome. She gestured toward Bellatrix, adding, "I'll give you another potion for him to take later, but now if you could help me here, please."

They held Bellatrix up by magic as they lifted her off the floor and lowered her carefully onto the sofa. Billey, meanwhile, filled Hermione in on what a narrow escape it was for master Rodolphus, that if it hadn't been for miss Hermione's kindness, he would have surely met a sticky end.

Hermione shook her head and was about to dismiss the praise when Bellatrix's bare arm slipped from under the blanket and hung over the edge of the green sofa, softly bouncing up and down.

"We're lucky it wasn't too late," said Hermione, plodding toward her. After a moment of hesitation, she closed her hand over Bellatrix's forearm, meaning to put it onto the blanket but paused, noticing the scalding temperature of her skin. How very unusual: Bellatrix's hands were never warm, they had always been as cold as marble. Hermione looked at her face; it seemed glossy, her cheeks were rosy pink and there was a narrow ribbon of blood coming out of her left nostril which had curled above her lip and flown down her cheek. She must have a fever. A terrible, terrible fever.

Hermione gently wiped the blood from Bellatrix's face with a cuff of her jumper, scarcely touching her skin. It was burning.

It must be a side effect of that odd Amortentia, she reckoned. But what could she do to quell it? Hermione had a potion that cured ague and also murtlap essence in her beaded purse, but she doubted either of those would be helpful given it was a love potion that had caused the fever in the first place. They would do nothing against it. What she needed was an Antidote; but where to get one? She certainly couldn't brew it as what Bellatrix had drunk was no ordinary love potion but some bloody experimental elixir and Hermione had no idea what it was made of.

The only person that could tell her that was Vittorio D'Avalos. Hermione studied the thought for a moment, deciding that the best thing she could do was to contact Narcissa Malfoy—she'd get in touch with him sooner than Hermione.

"Billey, could I ask for another favour?" she said. "Could you bring something to Draco Malfoy?" He must have arrived at school by now as the Hogwarts Express had set off three hours ago.

"Young Mr Malfoy?" he asked, looking a bit unsure but then nodded. "Of course, miss."

Hermione gave him a small smile. She knew her time was limited and so she scribbled a simple note, asking Draco to write off to his mother in his name, requesting an immediate meeting with Vittorio for whatever reason he could think of; then fill Billey in on her response letter. Surely, Hermione could ask Narcissa directly, which would be far quicker and easier, but she had no idea how much she knew about the whole corpus deus situation and whether she was aware of Bellatrix's and Hermione's deal at all. She couldn't risk her appearing here and demanding the answers Hermione didn't have.

"Here," she said after she had finished writing on the small piece of parchment, which she handed to Billey. "Please, don't tell Draco anything about what's been going on here. If he asks about me, don't tell him anything either, except maybe that I'm safe and mad at him for forgetting about my birthday, and that this is his chance to make it up to me. When you deliver him the note, you may go and check on your master Rodolphus again, but please, keep close to Draco." She leaned in, emphasising her next words. "As soon as he gets a response letter, he's going to call you and tell you the address—you know who Vittorio D'Avalos is, don't you?" Billey nodded. "As soon as Draco calls you, you go to the place whose address he tells you and you get Vittorio here." Hermione reached into her beaded purse again. "I'm going to pour off some of the Blood-Replenishing potion for you to take to Rodolphus and..." She fell silent as she struggled to find the bottle.

"No need, Miss Hermione," said Billey quickly. "There's a grand supply of replenishing potion at Lestrange manor! Billey can use it!"

"Brilliant," she murmured but persisted with her search nonetheless as Bellatrix would need to take at least three spoonfuls herself later on. When she finally pulled the potion out of her purse and put it into the pocket of her jacket, she looked up and saw the house elf bowing to her.

"Billey will be back soon, miss!" he promised and, giving her a small nod, Disapparated.

Hermione looked after him for a few seconds before lowering her gaze and noticing how dirty she actually was. She cleaned the blood off her hands, clothes, and the floor, then sank into the nearby armchair which, thanks to Bellatrix's tantrum, had its stuffing oozing out like a busted cotton sack, and clamped her hands over her face. The thoughts she'd been successfully pushing to the back of her mind up until now were whizzing back like tidal waves toppling anything that was standing in their way; Bellatrix had taken a love potion.

She had taken a love potion.

She was going to kill her for this even though it wasn't Hermione's fault at all. Hermione had completely forgotten it was in her bag; it had been there for over a year now; she couldn't have possibly known... Hermione could only hope Bellatrix would let her explain. Right, as if she had ever done that. Of course, she wouldn't; there was no doubt that after getting back to normal, Bellatrix wouldn't be interested in the least in hearing Hermione's side of the story as she would be certain Hermione had planted the potion there on purpose.

Goddamnit! What had Hermione done to deserve such affliction? Had she been cursed? Since meeting Bellatrix, it had been nothing but constant misfortune clouding her life like a thick fog, which she started to doubt would ever disperse.

Hermione leaned further into the armchair. Her distraught eyes cut toward the pieces of broken glass splattered across the wooden floor, then went up the panelled walls, pausing on the outer window pane that thankfully had remained untouched. The sky outside seemed to be getting darker, pushing a strange wave of unease inside Hermione's stomach. In a few hours, she and Bellatrix were supposed to be in Paris, filching the cup from Barbary senior, but by no means could they go there like this. Bellatrix was in no state to travel and Hermione wouldn't dare leave her on her own or with Billey; even if she would, she had no idea as to how to get the cup without getting herself arrested—Bellatrix had never told her what her plan was. Besides, leaving her unsupervised for just a second might result in a windfall of nasty accidents. The potion had surely tampered with Bellatrix's head and Hermione didn't have the slightest clue as to what to expect from her at this point.

One way or another, something needed to be done about it. They couldn't just wait around for the effect of the potion to subside. It might take hours, even whole days for it to evaporate from Bellatrix's blood. Also, Vittorio himself might have trouble squeezing in a meeting as he was most likely swamped with work, especially now with the ball season approaching. What was Hermione going to do until then? Keep Bellatrix unconscious? She could hardly do that. But what if Bellatrix tried to attack her again? Hermione pointed her eyes toward the floor, where Bellatrix had dropped her wand when Hermione had stunned her. It was suicidal, sure, but imperative at the same time.

Standing up from the armchair, Hermione walked over there and collected the crooked wand before putting it into her purse, all the while mentally going over the many ways Bellatrix might kill her. Because she was going to do that; if not over the love potion or the missed chance to get the cup, she'd certainly do it for having her wand taken away from her. Still though, unarmed, how dangerous couldn't she truly be?

Hermione retraced her steps to the passed out witch, casting a nervous glance at her face. She noticed that her skin colour had gone from soft pink to coral. Was she getting worse? Maybe Hermione, after all, should try the murtlap essence and also get the blanket off of her to keep her cool. But then, Bellatrix was only in her underwear, Hermione couldn't violate her like that. She better tried the murtlap essence first. Summoning a small piece of cotton cloth from her purse and a bottle of murtlap essence, Hermione poured a generous amount of liquid onto the cloth, then approached Bellatrix and carefully placed it over her forehead. Her stomach clenched at the incredible heat that almost instantly penetrated the wet fabric.

Hermione could feel her own face softening. Seeing Bellatrix in such a poor state made her forget about their clash in the blink of an eye. The pain Bellatrix was going to have to go through once she woke up; her stomach was still wounded, although the bleeding had stopped, but combined with the fever and that bloody infatuation... it was going to be hell on earth for her.

Hermione's fingertips drifted from the cloth onto the burning skin of Bellatrix's temple, tracing it gently before she realised what she was doing and quickly retreated. Fear washed over her like a cold breeze, bringing a revelation upon her, of which she, deep down, knew; she had suspected for quite a while now and—

Bellatrix shifted, a smattering of unidentifiable words slipping past her lips. She scrunched her face as if in protest to Hermione's thoughts, but her eyes remained closed and her breath, although barely discernible, quite regular. Hermione's heart was plummeting inside her chest as she stared at her with her eyes widened, and it sped up even more as Bellatrix's movements and somniloquy became progressively more animated.

No, no, she couldn't wake up just yet! Hermione wasn't ready; she—

She froze.

Bellatrix's exposed arm stirred deliberately now, rising from the blanket and moving toward her forehead to push the cloth with the murtlap essence aside. She tugged at the blanket, lifting it slightly and looking at her stomach that obviously hurt like hell as her face contracted and her lips let out a pained gasp.

With mad anxiety that suffused into every curve and every corner of her body, Hermione watched her prop herself on her hands and slowly turn her flushed face towards hers. Hermione instinctively took a step backwards. Bellatrix shifted her weight to her right elbow, the knitted blanket gliding down a bit and revealing her shoulder with a black lace strap. Tilting her head, she ran her narrowed eyes up and down Hermione's body before sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

Was she going to attack Hermione again? Suspect she wanted to leave her? Tell her she didn't—?

"Could I have a glass of water?" asked Bellatrix in a deep, raspy voice, catching Hermione completely off guard. She wanted what...? Water, right. She had a fever, of course she was thirsty; should have thought of that; should have had it prepared!

Hermione cast about, seizing an empty aluminium vase that she'd found resting on the long table next to the sofa, and transfigured it into a clear glass which she filled to the brim with water by using the Aguamenti Charm.

"How do you feel?" asked Hermione nervously as she approached her, holding out the glass from a far-enough distance, which made Bellatrix's lips curl in a smirk.

"Never better," she replied and, after a small pause during which she hadn't reached for the glass once, added, "I don't bite, love."

Yes, you do, now probably more than ever, Hermione abstained from saying out loud, yet took a careful step forward nevertheless.

Bellatrix gave an adorable chuckle before sitting up and finally taking the offered glass from Hermione, who started to retreat. Bellatrix's other hand closed over her wrist before she could, though, making her double over as she pulled her forward. Panicking, Hermione planted her feet but didn't dare to put up much fight as she had to mind Bellatrix's injury.

"No, no, no don't! I—" Hermione cried in alarm, uncertain of her next words, but Bellatrix sorted out her dilemma.

"Shhh, deary, come, sit next to me!"

Hermione had to think on her feet. Arguing might be the wrong move as it had proven to infuriate Bellatrix before, so perhaps negotiation would do the trick. "Will you let go of my hand if I do?" she asked in a trembling voice.

Bellatrix dropped the glass she was holding into her lap, spilling water all over herself and bringing her now free hand to rest upon her other. Hermione picked up the glass and quickly set it onto the floor before drawing her wand that she had tucked into her jeans just a moment ago and pointing it toward the drenched blanket. She gave an elaborate wave, making hot air stream from its tip but soon broke the spell as it was taking too long. Trapped by Bellatrix's hands, she could only do as much as to summon her beaded purse from the floor. She caught it in the air, almost dropping her wand as she did.

She put the purse onto the sofa and with some difficulty delved her arm in, feeling for clothes. Quickly enough her fingers sank into the soft cotton fabric and she pulled out a dark long-sleeved t-shirt, which she put onto the blanket and quickly made it the size of a dress and held out for Bellatrix to take.

"I promise, I'll get you something more fitting later, but if you could, at least for now, put this on. I had to remove your—!" Hermione's words faltered to a stop as she recoiled and turned her head so quickly her neck popped. As she was talking, Bellatrix had released her wrist and thrown the blanket aside, revealing a lot of her porcelain skin, covered by nothing but black lace lingerie which, although Hermione saw it only as a smudge, set her cheeks ablaze. She'd never seen her with so little on, and she had never imagined she would. This was Bellatrix Lestrange, for Merlin's sake; Draco's aunt, a well-respected pureblood witch. This just wasn't supposed to happen; ever!

"Did you do this?" asked Bellatrix, her voice strangely distant, and it took Hermione a while to figure she must be talking about the gauze attached to her stomach.

Still facing away, she nodded. "Yes—I mean no, not the injury." She put more distance between them, adding, "When we were apparating, you splinched. It was a nasty wound but I healed it... as best as I could."

"It still hurts."

"I know and I'm sorry," said Hermione lowly; if she could, she'd swap bodies with her in a second. "I'll try to make it better but please, put on the t-shirt."

"No, I'm good; I am too hot anyway."

That sums it up.

"Please, at least for now, there's something we need to discuss and I—"

I can't do it with you half-naked and smiling at me in such a provocative manner. I won't be able to finish one single sentence.

There was a moment of silence, then ruffling of clothes. "Done," said Bellatrix, and on turning back, Hermione witnessed the most unusual of sights: Bellatrix was wearing a muggle t-shirt, which later might only add up to her list of reasons as to why she should murder Hermione in her coldest blood, but damn it if it didn't suit her. Hermione had never seen her wearing anything but the same-styled dresses with leather corsets and low necklines over and over again, hence this was certainly a sight to behold. As Bellatrix had obviously regained some of her lost weight, the t-shirt fit her well, far better than it had fit Hermione; it clung to her prominent hips and slender waist more than her own dresses which initially made Hermione anxious that her wound would be bothered until she recollected that the fabric was flexible and wasn't actually that tight at the stomach. It snaked further down Bellatrix's thighs and ended just below her knees, which she had folded to the left side—a somewhat carefree pose that gave her even more statuesque poise than she already possessed.

"Better now?" Bellatrix tossed her head to get her curls out of her eyes, revealing that the coral tint of her skin had reduced back to pink. Her fever must have gone down, thought Hermione—perhaps now she wouldn't be so difficult.

Hermione took out the replenishing potion from her pocket but paused, realising that for an accurate measurement, she'd need a dosing spoon. She glanced at her beaded purse, still placed on the sofa. Bellatrix's eyes slid down toward it, too, and before Hermione had a chance to move, Bellatrix extended her arm and seized it, holding it tauntingly on one level with her shoulder.

A simple wand movement and the purse slipped from her grasp and flew toward Hermione, who caught it, pleased that her non-verbal magic had clearly improved. A strange smirk flitted across Bellatrix's face at the retrieval.

Having summoned the teaspoon from the bag, Hermione pocketed her wand and commenced, "I don't know how much of what happened you remember, but before we left your house, you and your husband had a fight. He injured you enough to make you lose some blood and while you may not necessarily feel bilious, I still think you need to take the replenishing potion to forestall any complications." While talking, Hermione warily approached Bellatrix. She extended her arm, meaning to hand her the teaspoon but the witch did not take it.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione set the purse aside and filled the spoon with the potion, holding it out for the second time. Bellatrix glanced at it before slowly leaning in and parting her lips.

Was she serious?

Afraid that most of the precious liquid might end up on the floor as the spoon shook in her hand, Hermione secured her arm against her side before bringing it to Bellatrix's mouth. She glanced away and only after the soft pressure that was making her hand shift had subsided, did she look back, the weirdly intimate moment leaving her somewhat unbalanced. She refilled the spoon two more times and when Bellatrix swallowed the last load, Hermione picked up the glass from the floor, filling it with water and holding it up. "Please," she accentuated, which surprisingly made Bellatrix drink it.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, taking the now empty glass from her and setting it on the table next to them.

"No."

Hermione was about to turn to her and say it was probably going to take some time when she found herself being pulled backwards by her elbow. Yelping, she landed on the sofa beside Bellatrix, who, before Hermione could escape, put her leg over Hermione's lap, leaning her knee against the bottom of her sternum.

"But now I do."

"No, no, wait! Don't do this! Please, I—" blurted Hermione, shrinking into the backrest, her stomach turning at the influx of minuscule creatures bouncing about as if she had a trampoline affixed to its walls.

"Aren't you adorable, so timid and scared," cooed Bellatrix, inching closer and pressing the shin of her other leg against the length of Hermione's leg, the warmth of her fever-stricken body seeping through Hermione's clothes like a white flame. The wickedly strong smell of blood was still wafting from her hair which was but a small aid to keep Hermione alert.

Slanting forward, she tried to get away but Bellatrix placed her burning palm along her collarbone with a pressure that, although faint, made her stiffen like a statue. It took Hermione a lot of self-control to collect herself, jerking her head to the side so as to avoid Bellatrix's hand that had moved higher and against all odds managed to slip into her hair.

"He didn't injure me, you know."

"Huh?" murmured Hermione, hyperventilating.

"Rodolphus—he didn't injure me," said Bellatrix, resting her right arm on Hermione's shoulder. "I did. You see—" Her fingers trapped a thick lock of Hermione's hair. "Pureblood marriage is a wayward bond."

"Is it," said Hermione, swallowing the excessive saliva pooling in her mouth.

"Oh yes... it is a curse, really." Bellatrix paused before whispering, "A wife can't harm her husband without harming herself, too."

Hermione halted, facing her. Bellatrix was very close, her eyes, darker than ever, boring into hers with the sharpness of a surgeon's knife.

"You... you mean... there's a curse placed upon your marriage?" she stuttered, completely transfixed. "That whatever you do to him happens to you, too?"

"Mhm," Bellatrix nodded, tilting her head and tucking a few curls behind Hermione's ear.

"That's barbaric!" blurted Hermione.

"No... do you know what is, though?" murmured Bellatrix before leaning in, and it was her lips, soft as a dream, whispering against her ear, "It doesn't work the other way around." She nuzzled her temple against Hermione's, her fingers pulling softly at the tips of her hair, and Hermione couldn't tell whether it was the touch, the incredible warmth radiating from her body and her breath, or her words that sent an excruciating stream of goosebumps down her spine.

"It doesn't?" she breathed, her chest rising and falling like a swell in the sea. "He can—uh—he can do to you what he sees fit?" Oh, Hermione couldn't talk properly with her so close, and this was so important for her to know. In a desperate need to regain control over her numbing senses so as to give proper attention to what Bellatrix was saying, Hermione managed to gently weave her way away from her arms and legs and leaned back on her hands.

"He could kill me and nothing would happen to him, whereas if I..." started Bellatrix but didn't finish. She put a scrutinising look on Hermione, who was pulling away from her as if her proximity might kill her. "Would you mind if I died?" she asked out of the blue. "You seem to care so much; I just wonder sometimes... Why..."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. She wondered sometimes?

Bellatrix waited for her to speak, not even trying to get closer anymore, probably content with their right and left knees touching. But Hermione, too, remained silent, inwardly debating whether she should ask her the question that was burning her tongue, seeing that now, Bellatrix would give her all the answers she'd want, but swiftly discarded the idea. She couldn't violate Bellatrix's privacy by asking about things she wouldn't want to talk about under normal circumstances.

"I... " rasped Hermione before clearing her throat and starting again. "Of course I would mind, you're Draco's aunt, he'd be very upset if anything happened to you."

Bellatrix leaned against the sofa, still facing her. "Is that so?" she asked, the blush on her cheeks turning a darker red right in front of Hermione's eyes.

No...

"Well?" drawled Bellatrix, her voice different, somewhat huskier now. Something was off... Hermione should get away before—

She made to bolt up at the same time as Bellatrix pulled away from the backrest, swiftly lifting her leg over Hermione's lap and straddling her hips. Hermione's hands slipped and her back was forced against the armrest with her head hanging over its edge. The muscles in her stomach contracted at her t-shirt riding up a few inches above her jeans, letting her experience first-hand how unbelievably smooth, hot, and sticky Bellatrix's bare thighs were against her skin. There was an outburst of heat seething in her lower belly and she was gasping audibly, trying to stay calm, repeating over and over with so little clarity that was left in her aching body and soul that this was wrong and so far from what Bellatrix actually wanted. She repeated it out loud while trying to block Bellatrix's hands from creeping down to her belly but they slid past them easier than a spoon through a soft pudding. Bellatrix grasped the hem of her shirt, shifting her weight before yanking the fabric up to her bra. A cold sweat washed over Hermione, almost throwing her into catalepsy as Bellatrix sat back, more of her skin sticking to Hermione's, the delicate lace the only barrier between them.

And she was so painfully soft; so warm and feminine... and so Bellatrix!

A grander spark of morality kicked in—this wasn't supposed to be happening between them. In no time or space was Hermione supposed to know her like this.

"No, no, stop!" she yelped, forcing Bellatrix's straying hands away from her clothes. "Don't do this! Please! You don't like me! You don't like me at all! Remember?" she said, almost crying. "And—and—we're both women! You detest that!"

Bellatrix listened but didn't seem too eager to understand. "Stop resisting," she whispered and tightened her legs around Hermione's hip bones before wrenching her wrists from Hermione's grasp and gripping hers instead. She pinned them to the sides of her legs and lowered herself down, her hair spilling onto Hermione's chest, who had drawn her head back and let it hang over the armrest to avoid further contact.

"You wanted it so much the other day. And now when I want it too..." went on Bellatrix, her breath so sensual against Hermione's exposed neck she stood no chance against the abrupt throbbing that emanated in her loins.

Then Bellatrix licked her; her tongue, as smooth and venomous as daffodils, slid along her skin, leaving a trail of hot poison from her pulse point up to her jaw.

That's when breathing began to hurt; that's when every nerve in Hermione's body began to hurt from fighting the desire to let this Bellatrix take whatever she wanted of her, to let herself take whatever she wanted of Bellatrix, because she did want her. Sober—not drunk, she wanted her with the same sane yet mad wanton as she had wanted her that night.

The sylph of Bellatrix's breath grazed her jaw. "...let's make wild love until your heat is mine and mine is yours..."

At that moment, Hermione's heart stopped. Those words were enough to pierce through her skin and snatch every bit of sanity that was still left in her mind. A strangled gasp escaped her open mouth, and she writhed underneath Bellatrix to free herself so she could touch her and—

"Oh, damn you, damn you!" Bellatrix leapt to her feet, leaving her panting and throbbing, instantly missing her touch with every fibre of her being.

"Wh—?" started Hermione, close to fainting. She wanted her back, she wanted her back on her hips, wanted to give her what she had asked for.

"You should have told me you don't want me as I'm only making a fool of myself!" seethed Bellatrix, folding her arms, the long shirt pulled up just below her bottom. God, she'd got some legs, thought Hermione, watching her pace back and forth before finally snapping to reality. As though slapped, she quickly sat up and crossed her legs, her hands raking into her hair. What did you want to do, Hermione?! Are you insane?

Dragging her sleeve across the distracting, cold with time, wetness on her neck, her eyes stumbled upon Bellatrix's alabaster skin again, noticing for the first time a long scar marking her left inner thigh. In an instant, her eyes snapped up, because Bellatrix was talking again.

"I practically threw myself at you and you reject me like this?" she fumed. "But suit yourself! I can find someone else who'd appreciate my..." she paused, feeling her hips as if searching for something. "My wand... Where is my wand? Where?! Do you have it?"

Hermione fell into a mad fright. "I... no, I don't," she lied, her voice trembling.

Bellatrix's face faltered and she stayed quiet for a while. "I'm exhausted; can't we go to bed?" she said finally before smirking and adding, "You can sleep next to me." Then went on whispering, "So very close. I know you'd like that. We could play mommy and daddy. Well, perhaps just mommy." She winked at her knowingly.

Hermione must have gone red as a tomato, the throbbing inside her loins intensifying. How could she...?

But Bellatrix's face scrunched again. "My head hurts... and it's all... it's all you!"

There was a popping sound in the air and Hermione jerked in surprise. In between her and Bellatrix appeared standing Billey, holding onto none other than Vittorio D'Avalos. The extravagant designer was casting around the half-destroyed drawing room in confusion, obviously trying to detect where he was and why. Then his eyes landed on Bellatrix.

"Il mio amore!" he exclaimed in his strong Italian accent but hesitated. "But... my bella Bella, what are you wearing?"

Bellatrix scoffed and approached him in two long strides, looking over his shoulder. "Vittorio, she doesn't want me! How come she doesn't want me?"

Vittorio turned from Bellatrix to see who it was she was glaring at and set his widened eyes on Hermione, who quickly stood up from the sofa, saying, "Hello."

"Hello," he replied, tipping his head and gesturing toward the floor. "What happened here? I thought I was summoned to tailor a dress rather than clean up a battlefield. Explain to me what—"

"There's nothing to explain!" Bellatrix interrupted him, almost hitting Billey as she motioned toward Hermione in obvious frustration. "She doesn't want me!" Bellatrix anchored her hand on Vittorio's shoulder, his arm curling around her waistline. "No one has ever rejected me! Ever! Even you wouldn't do that, would you, my Venetian angel?" She grasped his jaw, turning his face toward hers and pulled him down for a solid kiss straight on her juicy puffed up lips.

Hermione felt something wild and heavy snap out its claws and dig them into the walls of her stomach. Her teeth clashed together as she grasped a handful of her jumper, squeezing it like a dry lemon.

Two seconds later Vittorio pulled away, his face scrunched up in surprise. "Madonna santa!" He breathed, licking his lips and giving an amused laugh. "We better not tell Rodolphus about this." Then, touching her arms, he gently turned Bellatrix to face him fully and bent his knees to look into her eyes, asking, "What's going on with you?"

Hermione cleared her throat, which made Vittorio cut his eyes to her. "Mr D'Avalos, I don't know if you remember me," she started, feeling her voice tremble with emotions and so as to shake them off, she paused, which Vittorio took as his chance to say:

"Of course I remember you, how could I forget those striking eyes, eh?" He made to extend his hand, but Bellatrix put her index and middle finger on his forearm, bringing it back down to his side. He looked at her.

"No," she said, shaking her head like an annoyed five-year-old while looking so damn important and adorable. "You don't touch that because that's Bella's."

Hermione's stomach tightened like a rattlesnake when strangling its prey.

"Excuse my impertinence, Bella, but,"said Vittorio, "I don't understand what is going on here. Have you had a bit too much to drink? Or is this some kind of an ill-suited prank?" He let out a small laugh. "Why are you talking about this young woman in such a peculiar way? I was supposed to meet with young Draco and here, this little creature, whatever his name is—" He nodded at Billey, who was crouching beside him and squeezing something in his hand. "—snatches my coat—by the way, it's silk so careful next time—and brings me here to find you, Bella, standing among debris, wearing this rag and acting so... not yourself?"

"His name's Billey," clarified the still annoyed Hermione, attracting Vittorio's attention back. "And to address your question—perhaps you remember that last summer at Malfoy manor you gave me a potion, a potion which Madame Lestrange here has unfortunately taken instead of something else and now she..." Hermione paused, watching his lips twist in recollection before going on. "I'm really sorry I had to disturb you like this but I saw no other choice as I'm in desperate need of an Antidote which I'm afraid only you can provide. I can't stand—"

"You can't stand me?" Bellatrix cut in and set off toward her but Vittorio swiftly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back.

"Careful, her stomach's injured!" cried Hermione in alarm and Vittorio instantly loosened up his grip. Hermione guessed he must have felt the gauze under the thin fabric as he moved his arm lower and secured it around her hip bones instead.

Even in her concern Hermione couldn't help debating whether it was truly necessary for him to be touching her that much.

An angelic smile settled on Bellatrix's face. "See how she cares? She always does these little things, asks me if I've eaten or gotten enough sleep. I was positive she had a crush on me but look at her now, rude little thing, when I want to have SEX with her—" Bellatrix accentuated and Hermione's cheeks heated up like Finnish sauna. "—she's playing hard to get!"

Hugging herself, Hermione drew a shaky breath, her lower belly tightening in one painful throb. Bellatrix was going to skin her alive when she remembered what she had said in front of Vittorio.

"Why is she injured?" he asked and Hermione shifted her eyes to him.

"Splinched while Apparating," she replied. "I couldn't risk trying to heal her fully since I had no idea what your potion consisted of. The ingredients from different concoctions, as you surely know, might clash in her stomach and I was afraid that by trying to help I could actually make things worse."

"I am tired," announced Bellatrix, placing her arms over Vittorio's and leaning against his front. He glanced at her briefly before prompting her forward and walking her to the sofa. Bellatrix plopped onto the comfort coil and, closing her eyes, leaned against the backrest as Vittorio pressed his hand to her forehead.

"She's got a fever."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it fluctuates without a warning and comes with rapid mood swings."

Vittorio's eyes darted to her. "The potion must have expired at least five months ago," he said and straightened up, studying Bellatrix with slight concern. "I'm not sure if at this point... but then..." he paused. "Has she thrown up? Complained about stomachache or anything of such sort?"

"So far she's mentioned a headache and tiredness, but those might as well be attributed to her blood loss," replied Hermione.

"Bella!" Vittorio inclined over her but Bellatrix only scrunched her face so as to tell him to leave her alone. Scratching his temple, he turned to Hermione. "Listen, I'll get her the Antidote, but dealing with a potion after such a long expiration period... You have to be prepared, it might take quite a while for it to kick in."

"What do you mean?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, a strange wave of unease washing over her. "How long approximately?"

"We might be talking days, whole weeks. It depends on various factors like the general state of her immune system—"

Bad.

"Her lifestyle habits."

Even worse.

Surveying Hermione's expression that must have gone from worried to freaked out, Vittorio took a step closer, taking her hand. "Don't worry, cuore mio, if you make sure she's drinking plenty of clean water, gets enough sleep, perhaps does a little bit of exercise or something that might help her sweat it out, which by the way, is going to be so adorable since she's going to smell like the candy the potion consists of," he halted himself. "Well, I can't give it away, can I? Anyway, I was thinking about hot showers or perhaps a sauna; both might help immensely..."

Hermione's head spun as she imagined Bellatrix trying to seduce her while smelling of caramel toffees. She took two deep breaths and nodded. "So... if I make sure she does all these things, there's a high chance it won't last for more than two days, right?"

Shrugging, Vittorio gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand. "Hope springs eternal." Then he let go, adding, "I'm going to get the Antidote now. Luckily, I brewed some last week." With that, he Disapparated.

Hermione looked at Bellatrix, who seemed to have fallen asleep on the sofa like a tired child, with her lips slightly parted and her long lashes casting even longer shadows down her upper cheeks.

How was Hermione ever ever going to survive her advances?

"Miss Hermione?"

She almost jumped upon hearing a quiet voice coming from her left. As she turned, she saw Billey emerging from behind the damaged armchair. Hermione had completely forgotten about him; he must have cleared off while they were talking as nobody had been paying attention to him.

"Billey! I... you were incredible getting Vittorio here so quickly. Thank you!"

Blushing, Billey came closer and, shaking his head, replied, "Billey cannot possibly take any credit for fetching Mr D'Avalos as it was all Mr Malfoy's doing. He alarmed Ailey, the old house elf of the Malfoys, who went to Mr Vittorio like many times before and lied to him to get him to Diagon Alley, saying it was a matter of life and death, because young Mr Malfoy—oh, Mr Malfoy actually asked me to deliver you a letter." Billey handed Hermione a folded parchment. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Thank you, Billey! Thank you so much!"

Billey let out a strangled gasp. "Miss Hermione is too kind to Billey."

Smiling, Hermione patted his bony shoulder, which he clearly couldn't take and burst out crying. He held his palms to his mouth as he probably didn't want to wake Bellatrix up and with eyes welled up with tears, bowed to Hermione and Disappeared.

Hermione stared after him for a moment, thinking that when this corpus deus fiasco was over and she survived, she was definitely pitching a campaign for freeing the house elves. They were too good to be living this menial kind of life.

Her eyes darted to Bellatrix while unfolding the letter. She came over to one of the large windows, careful not to step over the broken glass.

You ungrateful woman,

as if my existence wasn't a gift enough for you! Cool off, though. Being my awesome generous self, I did send you a birthday card which, as I've come to know, must have missed you. No wonder; Merlin knows where you are.

It's beyond me why you need services from D'Avalos. Are you going to be having fun while I'll be stuck in classes? Because if so, our friendship is over. Anyway, I did what I could and hopefully, he'll be with you soon enough. I've sent him a note saying I'm going to elope with Astoria and she needs a wedding dress right this instant.

On a serious note. I don't say this often but I miss you, Brain. There's so much I have to tell you. Perhaps you'll find some time for me one of these fine days, seeing as you're building an army of house elf allies. They can get you to Hogwarts, you know that, right? If my dear aunt lets you, I'd like to see you. Hogwarts is not the same without you and I barely had a chance to unpack.

P.S. It's good to know you're safe. Hope it stays that way.

— Draco

When Vittorio returned ten minutes later, carrying a wooden fruit basket full of small bottles, Hermione's eyes were still oozing with tears.

"Oh what's this?" he cooed, setting the basket onto the table. "Why the tears?"

"I... it's nothing." Hermione quickly wiped her face. She missed her life so much. She missed Draco so much. But she needed to be strong now; couldn't let her emotions overwhelm her.

"Don't you worry, everything will be okay!" Vittorio nuzzled her cheek with the back of his hand, clearly thinking she was crying over Bellatrix. "I can only imagine how uncomfortable you must find this whole situation but it's going to be over very soon."

Hermione let out a strangled scoff.

"Now, about the Antidote." He pushed one bottle of carmine fluid into Hermione's hand. "Make sure she takes a spoonful three times a day, preferably after a meal—at least in the morning: works better that way. It's likely that the mood swings will persist and the infatuation will intensify overnight but it will wane later on and turn into something like a strong friendship and will remain that way until she's back to normal."

Back to hating me.

Vittorio stayed for ten more minutes, and as a true gentleman, which Hermione didn't appreciate as much as she probably should, he scooped Bellatrix into his arms and carried her upstairs to one of the vast chambers of the sumptuous villa, which only now Hermione, marching with the fruit basket in her hands behind them, allowed herself to examine.

It was just as regal and opulent as the Lestrange manor: with a number of tremendous impressionist paintings hanging on the walls and various artsy objects perched on the carved furniture, it resembled a gallery rather than an ordinary house someone might live in. The likeness revived the terrible worries about the cup as it had become clear that at this point, there was very little, if anything, that Hermione could do to obtain it from Barbary senior. In a moment of her despair, a pair of words resurfaced from the mayhem of her thoughts.

'...army of house elves'.

It would be against everything she stood for, but perhaps their only chance... still though, how could she ever ask anything of such sort of Billey?

When Vittorio lay Bellatrix onto the immaculately made four-poster bed, he pointed his wand at the dark-toned limestone fireplace to his left, making flames burst upward with a shimmer of iridescent sparks. He reclined his head to Hermione, who had placed the basket with potions onto the vanity right next to the fireplace and came to stand behind him. "When she wakes up, try to explain the situation to her," he said. "Keep doing so over and over again until she gets used to the idea and, uhm... if she does anything inappropriate, try to forgive her."

He regarded Bellatrix with one more look, studying her as he pulled the emerald sheets up to her shoulders. "She's a force of nature, isn't she," he uttered before leaning over and brushing her hair aside to peck her cheek.

Watching the scene with frowning eyes, Hermione asked, "Mr D'Avalos, a quick question. What was the purpose of giving me that potion?"

Vittorio straightened up. "Isn't it clear?" He turned to Hermione. "I thought you'd use it on young Draco. He seemed so enamoured with you but not quite ready to accept it. The potion was supposed to numb anything that was holding him back from exploring his feelings to the point he'd feel confident enough to open up about them. Of course, the expiration reverses the effect and changes the feelings completely. She probably isn't a big fan of yours, is she? Anyway, I wanted to give you and Draco a little nudge. Pity he's marrying this other girl. You'd make a pretty couple."

Hermione gave a small scoff. Perhaps they would.

Vittorio smiled as he took her head into his hands to give her a firm kiss on both of her cheeks. "Don't worry, there's plenty of fish in the sea."

Yeah... yet I only want that one mermaid from the Salton sea, thought Hermione to herself.

"Let me know if you need anything," said Vittorio. "I'll try to come to check up on you as soon as I can."

When Vittorio left, Hermione flopped onto the padded chair in a corner of the room, watching Bellatrix from afar and hammering it into her brain that she could not afford any more slipups like the one from earlier in the drawing room. Bellatrix wasn't herself right now. Soon she'd be back to normal. Didn't Hermione remember what she was like before?

"You will listen, stupid girl! Get this through your head! I am no friend of yours and I'll never be!"

"You are so pathetic!"

"How hard is it to live with yourself, knowing what a distorted little fiend you are?

"I don't want you anywhere near me! God, you make me sick. I've always thought mating with muggles should be outlawed. Just look at how you've turned out!"

"That's why I can't take you or anything you say seriously. You're a joke!"

"You're neither my family nor my friend; you're just a stranger that I was forced to interact with! Don't forget your place!"

"Let's make wild love until your heat is mine and mine is yours."

Hermione felt her stomach tighten. She bent forward, burying her scrunched face in her palms.

Snap out of it! Those hot-blooded words weren't Bellatrix's; it was the brew making her talk like that. You cannot be as naive as to fall for fantasy!

But Hermione definitely felt something for Bellatrix even before she was this chocolate-sweet. Could it be that she...? Surely not! If Hermione cared for Bellatrix, it would mean she was falling out of love with Blair, wouldn't it? Was she falling out of love with Blair? Tracing the necklace on her neck, Hermione studied her feelings. When she recalled Blair's warmth, her laughter and playfulness, her sensitive way with words, the delicate yet electrifying touch of her hands, every particle of her being tingled with painful imperishable love. Hermione was still dying for her presence and it was still heart-wrenching for her that not only could she not love her, she could not even be near her, and she still needed her like she needed her next breath and would move mountains for her well-being if needed. And if it was her in Bellatrix's place...

The muscles in her stomach churned more violently.

No, Hermione certainly didn't feel any less love for Blair. Logically then, those feelings she had for Bellatrix must be components of some lusty crush: she was a stunning woman, irresistibly seductive—a true embodiment of Lilith; but most of all, beyond all that grandeur, she was a compelling, fierce woman... mysterious and astute, and Hermione wished to get to know more of that side of her; wished for more of those rare moments during which Bellatrix omitted her stuck-up behaviour, showing, although unintentionally, there was much more to her than her ruthless character.

Hermione saw it in her eyes that twinkled anytime Hermione managed to stagger her; she had noticed it in her suppressed smile that night... It was but mere evidence but still enough to warm Hermione's heart with the hope she would have never expected to experience in regards to Bellatrix.

Besides, if Hermione's panic earlier was anything to go by, she must have admitted that despite everything Bellatrix had put her through, she cared for her well-being far too much.

Slumped in the armchair, Hermione was trying to process the news. She cared for Bellatrix. She had feelings for her. It wasn't just lust, it was so much more than that. But Blair... How...

"Thinking of me?"

Flinching, Hermione quickly straightened up; Bellatrix had woken up. Why had she woken up? Zooming in on the bed, Hermione saw her lying on her side with the blanket pulled down to her hips, outlining the round contour of her waist and hips. She was propping her head against her left hand and watching Hermione with the flames from the fireplace reflecting in her deep expressive eyes.

She was smiling at her dreamily and looking so lovely it made Hermione's belly tingle. They remained gazing at each other for quite a while until Bellatrix started biting her lip, which finally nudged Hermione to action. The Antidote! Clutching the armrest, Hermione hastened to stand up but Bellatrix was on her feet quicker than her.

Unwilling to give her any more chances to advance on her, Hermione jerked her wand from her sleeve and pointed it forward before blurting, "Protego!", forcing an invisible wall in between them.

"What did you do that for?" Bellatrix asked in an incredibly hurt tone as she tried to move closer but couldn't.

Hermione stood up, stepping to the side carefully. "Madame Lestrange, you need to listen to me now—"

"Madame Lestrange?" scoffed Bellatrix before adding sweetly, "It's Bella. For you."

More butterflies. Many more of them. Clearing her throat, Hermione said, "That's very kind of you but I don't think you'd appreciate me calling you that after you're back to normal."

"Back to normal? What are you implying?"

"I'll try to explain as best as I can," said Hermione, still holding her wand outstretched in front of her while moving in small steps toward the vanity where she'd set down the fruit basket loaded with Antidotes. "When we Apparated here this afternoon, you were bleeding profoundly," she said. "I tried to give you a healing potion but you insisted I rather cast protective spells around the place, assuring me that you were capable of finding the potion on your own. I told you it was in the front pocket of my bag," Hermione paused, gulping. "What I was unaware of was the fact that there, in the pocket, was already one more potion, which I had put there a long time ago and completely forgotten about. Unfortunately, it was the one you took instead of the healing potion and... it seems like it's made you... develop some sort of... feelings for me."

"So?"

Blushing, Hermione tried not to trip over her words. "So... you need to take the Antidote to dispense them." Hermione took one bottle of the Antidote from the basket together with the silver spoon that she had dropped there before. She half-lifted her hand, meaning to throw it to Bellatrix, who hadn't torn her eyes from her once.

"Has your mother never told you it's rude to throw things at people? Come here and hand it to me," she said authoritatively yet suggestively, which made Hermione's blood run hot.

What are you doing to me...?

"I'd rather not," said Hermione, choosing her words carefully. "Look, you—you're not yourself; I don't want you to do anything you might—will regret later."

Bellatrix swept her hair from her eyes and, glossing over Hermione's point, cooed, "Lift that spell. I can't even see your face from this far." They weren't far apart from each other at all, and Bellatrix herself must have realised it was a very poor excuse as she quickly added, "You should have a look at my wound, I think it's starting to bleed again."

"No, it is not."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "What if I make it bleed?"

"Then you'll bleed to death," replied Hermione in what she hoped was a careless tone.

Bellatrix scoffed at that, lifting the t-shirt and saying, "Well, I'm not scared of death."

"Wait!" blurted Hermione, knowing she needed to be cautious as at this point, Bellatrix was capable of anything. With her heart picking up speed, she slowly lowered her wand and took the first step forward, ready to re-cast The Shield Charm if needed, but the obviously satisfied Bellatrix let go of the t-shirt and seated herself gracefully on the bed, waiting.

Hermione's heart was beating faster and faster as she plodded toward the bed, the heat of the flames behind her imitating the burning in her cheeks. She was less than two feet away from Bellatrix, giving her a cautionary look before unstoppering the Antidote with her wand in between her fingers and pouring the carmine fluid onto the spoon. Inconspicuously, Bellatrix inched closer but paused, her face as innocent as a child's upon Hermione's warning glance. While pulling the bottle away from the spoon, Hermione didn't have a chance to halt Bellatrix, who leaned in and sank her teeth into her t-shirt at her stomach and pulled at it. Hermione's hands shot up and she spilled the potion straight into her own cleavage. She yelped and backed away, hearing Bellatrix's teeth clash as the t-shirt slipped from between them.

Bellatrix stood up from the bed, smirking before flicking her eyebrows. "Well, well... you should have told me you wanted me to take it like this."

Hermione's hand made a motion toward her stomach, which curled in one painful throb. She remembered far too well how Bellatrix's tongue felt against her skin and she'd certainly lose her bearings if she was to experience it ever again. Quickly, she wiped the potion off her chest, saying. "No, stop! It's—this is really important so if you could just sit down for five seconds and not move! It's imperative that you take the Antidote! Please... do it for me," she added, blood rushing to her face.

It took Bellatrix only a second to back away and sink onto the bed.

Hermione willed herself to walk up to her, utterly shocked at the effect her words had taken. "I promise it'll make you feel better," she said as she refilled the spoon with the Antidote, holding it out for Bellatrix to ingest.

"Better," she repeated, glancing at the spoon before twisting her lips. "It's amusing, isn't it... This is actually the first time in a very long time I feel any good."

Hermione stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"I'm never happy," she replied emotionlessly before her plump lips slipped over the spoon, swallowing the crimson liquid.

Oh Bellatrix, what are you saying...

Hermione blinked a couple of times. "Never?"

"No. Even as a child. I've never—"

Hermione's heart sank. No matter how much she wished for Bellatrix to finish that sentence, she couldn't just let her. Not when she wasn't actually aware of what she was saying.

"How do you feel now?" she cut her off, cleaning up the spoon. She set it together with the rest of the Antidote onto the bedside table before looking back at Bellatrix, whose unblinking eyes were running up and down Hermione's body, the side of her index finger pulling her nether lip down.

"Famished."

"Eh... " Hermione lowered her gaze in fluster. "Right, I think you should probably have a shower now, there's still some blood on you and uhm, I—I'll go ask Billey to prepare dinner for you."

Bellatrix smirked. "How about you come with me?"

"Madame Lestr—'' started Hermione, automatically backing away as she saw Bellatrix standing up.

"I told you, it's Bellatrix."

"I think you should go alone."

"But I'm still going to need your assistance, love. You put this strange thing on me and now you have to take it off," said Bellatrix and without a warning, began taking off the shirt. Hermione's eyes snapped down, eyeing the floor beneath her feet and then the black mass of fabric that had landed there. Bellatrix was standing in front of her in her underwear again and Hermione knew she had to look at her because she really needed to do something about that gauze.

Reluctantly, she turned her eyes toward the ivory skin, trying not to stray anywhere else except the gauze but how could she not. Bellatrix was painfully gorgeous. So slim, yet full at all the right places and looking incredibly silky-smooth to the touch.

Trying to control her breathing, Hermione pointed her wand at the gauze, whispering, "Impervius!" and adding quietly, "There."

"Do you like seeing me like this?"

"I...? What?" she murmured, her face bursting like dry leaves catching fire as she grasped the Antidote and the spoon from the table and carried them back to the basket just to get away from Bellatrix, but she followed her.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Breathtaking... you're breathtaking, Bellatrix; you and Blair both, are the two most beautifully frustrating creatures I've ever seen, but I can hardly admit that to you.

"Because if you do," she went on huskily, coming closer. "I don't see a reason why we shouldn't—" Her hands slipped to the sides of Hermione's thighs, softly at first before her fingers dug in and moved higher. Alarmed, Hermione jumped away from her, hitting her kneecap on the vanity leg, making the potions inside the basket clink against each other before stumbling to the side.

"Stop! Stop it," she blurted almost angrily, backing away, looking stubbornly toward the ground. "You—there's thousands of reasons why—I mean... look!" Hermione took a deep breath. "I made the gauze waterproof. I suppose you won't need my help anymore. I—I can get you some products to uhm—"

"What are you doing to me, Granger?" said Bellatrix in her deep voice, making Hermione's breath hitch in her throat. "I swear, I can hardly control myself. You're delicious; so nervous and stuttering."

Hyperventilating, Hermione was backing toward the door and feeling for it with her hands behind her. She couldn't stay here with her any longer. "I'll get you some body wash and—"

"Don't trouble your pretty head," said Bellatrix, her voice a mixture of amusement and lust. "I'm here more often than at Lestrange manor; most of my belongings are already here."

"Okay, brilliant... so if you've got everything you need, I'll be back with dinner in about thirty minutes," she blurted before finally grasping the handle and stumbling out of the room. When she closed the door, she heard Bellatrix chuckle under her breath.

So Hermione being a nervous mess was funny to her.

Holding her wand, Hermione murmured a shaky 'Lumos' and quickly climbed down the spiral staircase back to the drawing room. She lit up the fireplace and pocketed her wand, then started pacing back and forth in long strides, ignoring the burning logs casting fantastic shadows along the wooden flooring. She needed to allay it! She needed to allay the excitement and fright mixing in her lower belly. "What the hell, what the actual hell..." she kept on repeating out loud and breathing as if fighting an asthma attack. She could still feel Bellatrix's naked thighs on her stomach, she could still feel her lips against her ear, her tongue on her neck... her hands on her hands.

"...let's make wild love until your heat is mine and mine is yours..."

"Oh my God!" muttered Hermione, doubling over with her face in her palms. What utopian alternate reality had she entered? Just this morning, Bellatrix would have rather stabbed herself than touched Hermione and now, thanks to that bloody potion, the woman didn't know what to do with herself.

"... I can hardly control myself..."

The scenario involving herself and Bellatrix with hardly any clothes on, making passes on her, was beyond her range of imagination. Hermione had never and would never fantasise about anything like that happening; what for? It was a script pulled out straight from a porn movie with lazy writing; what for, when Bellatrix had made it very clear how she felt about same-sex attraction? About Hermione? But here she was, in her lace underwear, so indescribably gorgeous that Hermione's spine erupted in goosebumps when she even recalled the memory of her. Bellatrix's facial expressions, the way she moved, talked, touched were out of this maddening ancient world. When she had bestrode Hermione, right here on this sofa...

Hermione's stomach curled for a thousandth time today and she couldn't stop a gasp from leaking past her teeth. Bellatrix was making her go insane. And there was nothing Hermione could do to stop her from doing so. She couldn't just say 'screw it!' and go along with whatever Bellatrix's drugged consciousness was urging her to do. Hermione had to persist in rejecting her until this madness was over. Until Bellatrix remembered that she hated Hermione and then raged like a she-demon from hell.

A thought of Merope Gaunt crept into her mind as Hermione was now experiencing first-hand how tempting it was to make the attention she was getting last for the longest time possible. She could relate to her so much, but her morals and empathy would never let her act like Merope had. Hermione could never take advantage of Bellatrix in such a horrible forceful way. No matter how much she might desire her affection.

The sound of breaking glass came from beneath Hermione's shoe. Pausing, she raised her left foot and saw that she'd stepped on a piece of shattered window glass that was spread all over the floor. Sighing, she drew her wand and cleaned up the mess: pieced the broken glass together and sent it zooming into its frame, stuffed back the leaking armchairs and charmed the pieces of panels to return to the wall. Once everything seemed to be back in order, Hermione called Billey and asked him to prepare an easily digestible dinner for Bellatrix—because who knew when the last time she'd eaten had been—and send it to her room. Hermione didn't ask for anything for herself as her stomach was too tightened to accept any food.

When Billey had left, she sank onto the armchair with her thoughts swirling around in her mind like leaves in the wind. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Bellatrix, Barbary, Bellatrix. There were so many questions stemming from everything she'd heard today and yet, the thought that kept arising above all was that Bellatrix wasn't happy. Hermione couldn't even imagine how miserable she must be all the time to say such a thing. No wonder she was so bitter. But she hadn't been like that when Hermione had first met her at Malfoy Manor, had she? She had been different then; or had it all been just a pretence because she needed Hermione on her side? She was a great actress, after all, so who could tell? Engrossed with possibilities, she hadn't realised how quickly the time had passed and it was only after Billey had appeared at her side to tell her that Bellatrix had requested to see her, that she reluctantly stood up from the armchair. However much she didn't want to, she knew she had to return to that princess of lust sooner or later and somehow get her to sleep. Gripping her wand, she set off upstairs.

As she entered the chamber, she saw Bellatrix sitting in front of the fireplace, leaning slightly forward and gazing toward the door in anticipation. As soon as she recognised Hermione, she beamed an angelic smile that tugged at Hermione's heart a little and she leapt to her feet. The long, dark, very silky, very revealing nightgown she was wearing and of which the deep v-neckline slid a little down her milky shoulder, swayed in the hasty motion and the contours of her body made themselves more visible. Her lips looked in the flickering shadows fuller and darker and her eyes more alive, turning the strength Hermione had been gathering on her way here to ineffable slush.

At once she was with Hermione, pulling her by her sleeve further into the room, the smooth, creamy scent rising off her body making Hermione's head spin momentarily.

Concentrate!

Hermione wrenched herself from her grip.

"I only want to talk," said Bellatrix soothingly, her hand falling back to her side. Facing Hermione, she backed away and hopped onto the bed, motioning for her to sit down next to her. There was a strange sense of sincerity in her voice that willed Hermione's feet to move. She traipsed forward and sat on the far edge of the bed, folding her arms.

"So... have you eaten your dinner?" she asked the first thing that came to her mind.

"Yes," replied Bellatrix. "Although I still feel like having a dessert."

Hermione blinked and began to rise from the bed but Bellatrix quickly added, "Wait! I was just joking; I'm joking most of the time and you take everything so seriously."

Hermione frowned. "Well, with you it's hard to tell."

"Is it?"

"Yes," said Hermione, her eyes pausing on a golden chalice on the nightstand by the bed. What if...? Perhaps there was still a chance! "Uhm... Bellatrix," she commenced, feeling utterly bizarre about calling her by her first name but Bellatrix's face lit up so much that the feeling left her immediately. "Do you remember your plan as to how to get a hold of the Hufflepuff's cup? I could go and try to procure it from him. I've still got an hour to get to Paris and seek him out. I'm quite familiar with the city as I used to go there with my parents and—"

"Oh, don't!" Bellatrix threw her head back in annoyance, exposing her defined white neck. "Let's not discuss the corpus deus tonight. It's all I think about and for the first time in years, it hasn't crossed my mind once."

Hermione took a deep breath, pleating her t-shirt. "I understand, but we have to address it. Surely you remember how crucial it is to you!"

"So it is to Dumbledore and yet I don't see him being consternated by anything regarding its progress. Instead—" Bellatrix slightly leaned in, whispering, "—what he does is sit around in his precious little castle while one of his students does the dirty work. Perhaps I should hire someone, too."

Hermione froze. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, the shock knocking her breath out. Bellatrix knew about Dumbledore. She knew, she knew, she bloody knew! But how could she possibly...?! There was no time for dwelling in shock; Hermione had to mislead her, had to deny! Had to— "Dumbledore?" she repeated, hearing her own voice as if it was coming from a far distance. "What does he have to do with all this?"

Bellatrix gave her a knowing smile. "I saw it; saw it all that night; you didn't keep your mind closed, deary."

Hermione felt like being sick. She had given herself away. She had given Dumbledore away. He trusted her and she had failed! And...If Bellatrix had seen Dumbledore... what else had she seen?

"I don't understand," Hermione tried again, feeling the words choking in her throat. "Why would Dumbledore—?"

"When will you stop lying to me," Bellatrix interrupted quietly. "Don't you know I'll always come to know the truth?"

Hermione suppressed the tears of panic. She shook her head and parted her lips but nothing came out. It was over for her... over.

Bellatrix went on, "Ah, it was diverting to watch you struggle... All the while I knew."

Her words resonated inHermione's scared, shocked mind like a sick, morbid taunt. All the while she knew? A flush of anger crept past her fear, locking her jaw. "Look, I don't know what you think you saw in my head," she said, her voice trembling, "but if you thought you already had your answer, why did you—why did you continue?"

"Continue what?" asked Bellatrix, smiling wider.

"Soliciting me," said Hermione, her choice of words making Bellatrix laugh.

"I wanted to see how far till you crack."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "And how far were you willing to go?"

"Not far at all... but now..." Bellatrix leaned on her hands, her cleavage almost spilling.

A sinister thought entered Hermione's mind. What if she did the same to Bellatrix? What if she played with her emotions like she had? What if—no! A scolding voice inside her objected. She was better than that; much better.

"It's just the potion making you feel this way," she said. "One more day and you'll be cursing my name again."

"I won't."

"Believe me, you will," spat Hermione belligerently. "You hate me."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"No," said Bellatrix, twisting her lips. "You frustrate me. Too much sometimes, but I don't hate you. And now... I certainly have some fond feelings for you."

Hermione blinked in felt the urge to pace again. "How about all those horrible things you've been saying to me?" she choked out of her.

A look of genuine sympathy flashed across Bellatrix's face. Her shoulders shrugged, her lips parted, hesitating, but there slipped nothing out of them.

Nevermind. This should be the least of her worries at the moment, anyway...

Hermione plonked down onto the sheets with her face in her palms. A second later, she quickly propped herself on her hands, giving the witch a scared look, but other than regarding her with an amused glance, Bellatrix did nothing to use the situation to her advantage. Shifting, she moved further away from Hermione and reclined onto the bed from the opposite direction. Hermione was unmoving for a couple of seconds, waiting, but soon relaxed. Perhaps the Antidote was finally working its wonders. Slowly, very slowly, she bent her elbows and lowered herself onto the sheets beside Bellatrix. She didn't know what had possessed her to do that but decided not to question it. She was scared, angry, and indecisive as to what to do. Well, primarily, she needed to talk to Dumbledore and tell him she had doomed them and then, they would see what to do then...

"I don't remember saying anything explicitly bad about you," said Bellatrix's voice beside her.

It took Hermione a while to understand what she was talking about. "You constantly talk badly about me," she said after considering whether or not to address it. "You harrow me every chance you get. You called me sick multiple times," she went on, her emotions rioting inside her. "Told me, that if I... if I liked women, I wasn't normal and I should be put into a mental institution."

"Well, it is an illness, isn't it?"

"No, it's not!" objected Hermione fervently. "You're experiencing it right now; I mean, technically, it's the potion, but if you compare these feelings to the feelings you might have had for someone, eh, special in the past. Does... liking me feel any different from liking them?"

"I wouldn't know," replied Bellatrix. "I've never felt what I feel now."

Hermione sighed. "Of course, the intensity must be a bit—"

"No, that's not what I meant," objected Bellatrix again. "I've never felt affection for anyone."

Hermione frowned. "Never?"

"I've been involved with several men but I've never felt love for any of them."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, then bolted upright; what was she doing chatting here with Bellatrix as if nothing had happened? Not only did she have no business asking her about such things, she also should be on her way to Dumbledore. The quicker, the better. "I think I should go," she said but Bellatrix rolled over and closer to her, her creamy scent rising around Hermione.

"Jealous?"

Hermione drew back, tensing. She gave Bellatrix's beautiful, smug face a sullen look before standing up.

"No, no, don't go anywhere!" Bellatrix sat upright. "I want to talk!"

"Believe me, you don't." Hermione walked to the door and turned to her. "Without the potion, you wouldn't want me to know anything about you."

"I would! I want to talk to you; sometimes I want to ask, too, but—" Bellatrix faltered and didn't finish. Instead, she gave Hermione a pleading look and said, "Stay... please."

Hermione found herself reciprocating her gaze with the same sentiments. She didn't know what it was about Bellatrix making her so soft-minded but even despite her shock, despite her panic, perplexity and anger at her, she was unable to just walk away like that.

"Alright," she yielded. "How about this: we adjourn the talk sine die and if you, even after the potion evaporates from your system, if you still feel like talking, we'll talk then. I promise I'll listen. But I can't do it now; not when you're drugged." Hermione shook her head, leaning backwards and feeling for the door. "I don't want you to say anything you might regret later." Her hand grasped the doorknob. "Look, it's getting late and I'm tired," she lied.

"I don't want to be by myself tonight," said Bellatrix lowly.

"I can't stay here with you."

"You can do whatever you want," said Bellatrix, her eyes unmoving.

Hermione gave her a long look before her feet moved.

"Goodnight, Bellatrix."

She walked out of the chamber and with a beating heart, rushed through the door straight ahead of her, locking herself in. She leaned up against the door, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths. What should she do now?

She lit the tip of her wand and then a crystal chandelier that she had spotted above her, the radiant light revealing a lavish chamber. Having taken a few deep breaths, she called out, "Billey!" and watched the elf appear out of thin air, bowing in front of her.

"Billey," she stooped down to him. "Could you take me to Hogwarts to see Professor Dumbledore? It's possible for you, right? To take me there in spite of the protective spells?"

Billey nodded awkwardly. "Indeed, miss, but Billey is afraid he cannot take miss Hermione to Hogwarts."

Hermione drew back. "And why is that?"

Billey looked down as if embarrassed, his hands fidgeting. "After Billey delivered the letter to young Mr Malfoy," he said, "Professor Dumbledore summoned Billey to his office."

"Dumbledore talked to you?" asked Hermione and Billey nodded.

"Professor asked Billey to tell Miss Hermione that there was no need for her to see him because he already knew about everything; that Mistress Bellatrix had contacted him a few days ago... and that it was a giant step forward, for that had been his plan from the beginning. That Miss Hermione shouldn't worry and that she should stick to the plan." He gave her a hesitant look. "Billey would have told Miss Hermione sooner, but professor said to tell only if she asked."

Hermione was looking at the elf as if he had slapped her.

It was alright? It had been his plan from the beginning? As far as Hermione knew, the plan was to keep his damn part in this a damn secret, so what plan was he talking about?

Drawing closer to the elf, Hermione asked, "Are you telling me the truth, Billey?"

Billey locked their eyes. "Billey is, Miss Hermione!"

"And are you sure you heard Dumbledore right? Did he specifically say it was his plan for Bellatrix to know?"

Billey nodded.

"And... this may sound strange, but are you sure it was professor Dumbledore who told you this? Was he in his office? Did he talk to you with respect?"

"Professor was very kind, Miss. He offered Billey a toffee, but Billey refused because Billey knows his place!"

So it must have been Dumbledore who talked to him—no one else would offer candy to a house elf.

Hermione stood up, unable to digest it. It made no sense! One year ago, Dumbledore had set completely different conditions! He had told her Bellatrix must not know! He... She felt her face falter. Could it be he had deliberately kept this away from her? Could it be he had been stringing her along this entire time? But why? They were on the same side, weren't they?

Hermione paced away from Billey. She was risking everything here with Bellatrix; she'd put her life on the line, put her family... And he... he didn't even have the courtesy of being honest with her?

"I need to talk to him," she said, turning to the elf, who had hung his head.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he whispered. "Professor forbade Billey to take Miss Hermione to him."

Hermione parted her lips. Oh... so he didn't consider it necessary to even explain himself? He didn't consider it necessary to say sorry for not trusting her enough to tell her the real plan; sorry for being an arse and leading her on?

How could he have lied to her like this?

"Did he say anything else, Billey?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"No, miss."

Hermione looked up, nodding. She had an impulsive urge to order Billey to take her to Dumbledore anyway, just so she could tell him what a manipulative unscrupulous man he was, but decided against it and rather sent Billey away. She went into the chamber's bathroom instead and took a hot shower, trying to sort out her thoughts.

Dumbledore had really let her down. Trusting him in this bloody twilight zone had been the only thing she had ever felt sure of and it turned out to be the worst decision she could have ever made. Why couldn't he be honest with her? Did he think she was that untrustworthy? And if so, why had he asked her to hop on this train of madness then? Maybe he had seen how naive she was, a voice in her head chirped, maybe he had tricked her into helping Bellatrix. Sure, it sounded far-fetched and utterly ludicrous, yet he had never actually given her a valid reason as to why she should help her, other than 'trust me, all is going to work out in the end.' Hermione stomped the water pooling around her ankles. She could only marvel as to how credulous she had been to believe every damn thing Dumbledore had told her. And there she had been, feeling awful for betraying him...

Perhaps she should leave this sojourn while she had a chance; go on a quest on her own and instead of helping Bellatrix, get rid of the corpus deus like common sense suggested. The abrupt idea immediately made her want to act on it, but before she could, she had to figure out how much Bellatrix actually knew. Not about Dumbledore, no, screw him, but about the only reason she was still here. Blair. If Bellatrix knew about Dumbledore, it was more than possible she knew about her, too...

A giant knot formed inside her throat and Hermione burst into tears. It was bloody irresponsible of her to have been risking it like that when in the end, it wasn't worth it at all.

Half an hour later, although emotionally drained and exhausted, Hermione returned to Bellatrix's chamber. Having knocked, she had barely opened the door when she saw the witch rushing to her.

"You're back?" she said, obviously pleased, her scent making Hermione forget the purpose of her visit for a second. She glanced at Bellatrix's beaming face before it faltered. "You've been crying," she pointed.

"Uh, no," dismissed Hermione, shaking her head. "No; I was just taking a shower and got shampoo in my eyes."

"I can always tell when you've been crying," said Bellatrix, fixing her with a scrutinising look. "It's your expression. You—"

"It's nothing," Hermione interrupted her, trying not to read too much into what she'd just heard. "Look, I came here because I need to ask you something."

Bellatrix closed her mouth and stepped aside to let her in without another word. She sat down on the bed with her legs crossed, her nightgown slipping over them like water. Hermione seated herself on the chair opposite her; she entwined her fingers and, glancing at them, opened her mouth but nothing came out at first. She was terrified in the same way children were terrified of punishment after doing something naughty and so rather than facing the consequences, they decided to keep their mouth shut. Hermione, too, was afraid of facing them but the thing was, she was no child anymore... Besides, the price for her cowardice was far too high to pay. If Bellatrix knew about Blair...

"I need you to tell me exactly what you saw in my head that night," she blurted suddenly.

"Do you, now?"

"Yes," she said, trying to control her voice. "What else did you see?"

"You mean, what else apart from Dumbledore? And—" Bellatrix smirked before adding, "apart from the fact that you wanted to kiss me?"

Hermione didn't see any point in trying to deny it and so, looking to the ground, she murmured, "Yes... apart from that."

"My, my, somebody's sincere for a change."

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. "Please, could you just answer me?"

"Why do you want to know it so much?"

Shrugging, Hermione let her arms slide around herself before looking at her. "I was just thinking that if you saw something out of context, it might have given you the wrong impression. I just want to set things straight," she said.

"Oh, I see." Bellatrix's eyes left Hermione's eyes as she looked at her lap, smoothing down her nightgown. "And here I thought it's because you're afraid I saw something that I shouldn't have," she implied and looked at her pointedly. "Someone I shouldn't have."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. No... please don't let it be...

"You lied to me," added Bellatrix. "I asked you that night who she was, and you told me it was just a name that came to your mind." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "I couldn't care less about her, but I don't appreciate you lying to me!"

"You—you mean you don't care about her now?" asked Hermione in a trembling voice, a beam of hope springing inside her. "Or did you feel that way even before you took the potion?"

Bellatrix looked surprised. "What does it matter?"

"It matters immensely!" Hermione leaned forward, her tone so urgent it made Bellatrix narrow her eyes.

"Who is she, Granger?"

"Please, if you could just answer me!"

"Does she matter immensely?" asked Bellatrix before letting out a soft laugh. "But of course she does." She spoke those words with such self-assurance Hermione didn't find it within her to lie anymore.

Her breathing became shallow, her eyes were running over the room but they could not help her escape anywhere. She glanced back at Bellatrix, seeing her blurred.

"It's eating you alive, isn't it," whispered Bellatrix, tilting her head, and Hermione looked down again.

"Stop it," she pleaded, wiping her tears away before they could slip out of the corners of her eyes.

"Is she beautiful?"

"Bellatrix, please..."

"She must be."

"I said stop!" whispered Hermione and although it was quieter than anything she'd said so far, for a brief moment, there fell silence upon them.

"You know," started Bellatrix anew. "All this time I thought it was me. I thought I was the reason you were here."

Hermione didn't say a word and so she went on. "It was quite unexpected to find that wasn't the case." She cleared her throat, shifting. "How is she involved, anyway? Is she helping you from the outside? Has Dumbledore made—"

"No!" interrupted Hermione, straightening in her armchair. "She has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this!" she said, emphasising every word.

Bellatrix twisted her lips at that. "Then why were you just as scared of me finding out about her as about Dumbledore?"

Hermione looked at her for a while, then whispered, "You know why."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do."

"I don't think so."

"Then think again."

"I am; doesn't ring a bell."

"Surely it does."

"Not at all."

They remained looking at each other for a few more moments before Hermione lost it. "You saw it! You saw why!" she snapped, her emotions running loose. "Dumbledore told me what fate awaited every single person I cared about if you succeeded in bringing Riddle to our world! There would be nothing and no one in your way and I couldn't—" Hermione felt a sob crawling up her throat and she halted herself. She rubbed her face with her palms, looking up and taking two deep breaths. She would not cry in front of Bellatrix. "I know you plan on getting rid of them," she spat through her teeth.

"And why would I want to do that?" asked Bellatrix with her eyebrows raised.

"Why, I have broken your family, remember? Thanks to mine and Draco's friendship, the Malfoys lost their status and as Narcissa's sister, you must have lost some credibility, too. Don't you care for revenge?" hissed Hermione.

"What a ridiculous idea," scoffed Bellatrix. "Once the Dark Lord's here, everything would be forgotten. Every pureblood will know who helped him! Our status would be restored in the blink of an eye."

Hermione stared at her. "Don't tell me you wouldn't try to get back at me! You'll be allowed to do anything and without consequences."

"Again, love, why would I bother?"

"Stupid potion!" Hermione muttered under her breath.

"I've never planned on, as you say, getting back at you—at least not in such a way; you were—well, obviously, you are now—but before, you were of no great importance to me. Just a little fish amongst the many whose fins will be severed like tree branches." Bellatrix lowered her voice. "Tell me, isn't losing your magic the most devastating thing that could happen? More tragic than losing your family?"

Hermione stared at her before asking, "What are you saying? You want to take magic away from wizards? How?"

"No, not wizards—counterfeits," said Bellatrix. "But all in good time."

While it was scary to even imagine, the scenario seemed far more plausible than a possible genocide. Still...

"But Dumbledore, he assured me! He specifically stated you would kill my family and my friends!"

"No!" Bellatrix widened her eyes and let out a surprised laugh. "My, my, I clearly underestimated dear Albus." She shook her head in disbelief, chuckling. "I'm impressed! For a Gryffindor, for someone who has been called the most honourable wizard since the times of Merlin, he's quite a wicked snake," she looked at Hermione. "Whatever he said to you, my dear, annihilating your little friends has never played any role in my plans."

Hermione was gaping at her as though Bellatrix was speaking a foreign language.

"On a side note," she continued. "There's something I can't quite make sense of. If you thought—think I want to get rid of them, why are you here then? Wouldn't it be easier to take your own route? You've got your venor floccus gift, so why are you here, helping me?" She held out her hand. "Oh wait, wait! Let me guess! He told you that if you helped me, I'd see what a sweet little girl you are and I'd change my mind about everything?"

Hermione felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Bellatrix laughed again. "Unbelievable!"

"So you," started Hermione slowly. "So you haven't—you don't...?"

"I don't care about your friends, Granger," said Bellatrix, twisting her lips.

Hermione stood up and began pacing. "No...I'm sorry but I'm finding this hard to believe."

"That's because you lie so much you cannot see a drop of truth in anything anymore," said Bellatrix and smirked. "Fifty points to Dumbledore for his brilliance but fifty from Granger for being a dum-dum; oh, I'm just teasing you, love, you know I'm very fond of you," Bellatrix winked, making Hermione look away. There was a soft ruffling sound as Bellatrix stood up and came closer to Hermione, who glanced back at her. "Don't feel bad," said the witch mildly now. "Dumbledore knows his way around words; he can manipulate almost anyone into doing exactly as he pleases. Trust me."

Bellatrix came even closer and briefly touched her right wrist before pressing her fingers into her palm fully. Hermione felt her body tremble at the contact and she almost crumbled at her proximity.

"Trust you," she breathed, affixing her eyes to the bed. "Dumbledore asked of me the same thing and look where it got me. Besides, if I had to choose, I'd still rather..."

"...trust him," finished Bellatrix for her. "Why, because he's kind with his words? At least I'm open with mine." She freed her hand but Hermione grasped it now.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, locking their eyes and instantly blinking as Bellatrix's gaze was far too intense to look at. "Have—have you never envisaged harming my family or my friends?"

"No," said Bellatrix. "It's a different story with you, of course." She tilted her head, her eyes running over Hermione's face. "There were many times you infuriated me to the point I had to restrain myself from cursing you into oblivion, but no—not your family."

"But... why would Dumbledore lie to me?" whispered Hermione helplessly.

"Well, that's something you have to ask him."

They were looking at each other with emotion, so raw and ineffable that Hermione could not take it anymore. She let Bellatrix's hand slip from hers and walked away, trying to cope with her chaotic thoughts. She stopped in front of the fireplace, surveying the deep tangerine flames for several moments.

"Are you in love?"

Hermione looked down before briefly glancing at Bellatrix. "I don't think this is a good time to discuss it," she said slowly. "You should get some rest and I... I should go."

"How about you stay the night," suggested Bellatrix, blocking the door with her body.

"I can't. Now, if you don't mind..." said Hermione, motioning toward the door but when Bellatrix didn't move, she sighed. "I wouldn't want to hex you but if you—"

Bellatrix laughed. "Wouldn't be the first time someone did that to me."

Hermione gulped, trying not to imagine what could be hiding behind those words. Hell, the more she listened to Bellatrix dropping hints here and there, the more she felt like the witch's life couldn't be as perfect as she'd have her believe.

The thought hit Hermione hard enough to make her soften.

"Alright," she resigned. "I'll stay, but I'll sleep on the floor," she added, inwardly debating her own sanity.

"I'll sleep there as well."

"No, you stay in bed!" said Hermione authoritatively.

"As you wish, mother," Bellatrix smirked, winking. She threw the bedding onto the floor, one item after another, accidentally hitting Hermione with the pillow. "Use a doubling charm," she called. "I still don't know where my wand is." Oddly enough, it didn't even seem to bother her.

"I'll help you look for it tomorrow," suggested Hermione, using the most casual tone she was capable of. Then she did as she had been told: doubled the covers and pillows, then charmed them back on the bed and used The Shield Charm all around her so Bellatrix could not come within three feet of her. Hermione had to look out for her, and while the witch seemed very offended now, she'd surely be glad once this was over.

Bellatrix marched to the foot of the bed and climbed in, lying on her stomach. Still facing Hermione, she put her head in her palms, looking at her with intrigue.

Hermione seated herself down in the middle of the sheets, the heat from the fireplace licking her side. Her head felt like it could explode any second. So much had happened in the span of a few hours that it seemed impossible for her to manage to process it all.

"How did you know you liked women?"

Hermione raised her eyes to Bellatrix. This really wasn't what she wanted to talk about at the moment. But she also didn't want to give Bellatrix prompts to make fun of her in the near future, especially because it was her who had made her realise her attraction when Hermione found her and Crouch all chummy with each other.

"Have you tried to cure it?"

"You can't cure it, Bellatrix, because it's not a disease," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead.

"I heard my father talk about it years ago," said Bellatrix grimly, smoothing down the sleeve of her nightgown. "A distant relative of Nott's was put into an asylum after his brother caught him with some mudblood boy. They tried to cover it up, of course; Nott's family paid a lot of gold to keep him locked up for good but also to silence everyone in the asylum. But people talked... My father said it must have been the mudblood who infected him."

"What nonsense!" blurted Hermione.

"Anyway," went on Bellatrix. "They got rid of the mudblood boy and—"

"They killed him?!"

"I believe so," Bellatrix shrugged dismissively, then tilted her head. "What is it? Why are you looking so shocked?"

Hermione widened her eyes. "Because we're talking about murder?! What so immoral did that man do to deserve execution?! But most importantly, who gave Nott's family the right to take matters into their hands?"

"Well, they are purebloods," said Bellatrix as if presenting an obvious answer to a stupid question.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "You're joking, aren't you?" She wasn't and Hermione was at a loss for words for a short while. "I can't believe this," she choked finally. "You, purebloods, think so highly of yourselves, you think you're living, breathing Gods walking on Earth; flaunting your status and nobleness, saying you're better than everyone while under all that facade, the majority of you are inbreds! You marry your own cousins, calling it 'maintaining purity', but why not call it a proper name, 'incest'?!" Hermione shook her head in disgust. "Think what you want but... for me, that is what is truly perverse... not liking someone of the same gender."

"How dare you compare it!" Bellatrix's eyes flared. "The whole menagerie of these individuals suffer from degenerative sickness and—"

"How are they sick?! How am I sick?" asked Hermione hotly.

Bellatrix sat up, frowning. "I... it's just against nature."

"Oh come on, it's been observed in animals too so how exactly is it against nature?" retorted Hermione.

"A man and another man cannot conceive a child!" reasoned Bellatrix. "Just like two women can't! Such a bond defies logic!"

"Well, you are married to a man and yet you have no children, yourself," snapped Hermione rudely. "That defies my logic. You were supposed to give him an heir, weren't you? To ensure the lineage of the purebloods."

Bellatrix parted her lips in obvious shock.

"If you're so loyal to your pureblood ideology, why didn't you fulfil this condition?" Hermione knew she was going too far, but couldn't stop herself.

Bellatrix's lips seemed to have trembled. "Because I hate him!" she gritted. "I hate it when he touches me, talks to me, even looks at me."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Why are you with him then?"

"Because I have to!"

"No, Bellatrix, you don't!" objected Hermione, leaning forward. "You say I'm wicked because I care fora person of the same gender but tell me, how normal is it to marry someone without love and stay unhappy for the rest of your life just to contribute to the hypocritical agenda that's fundamentally so immoral it should be outlawed and its adherents medically treated?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Bellatrix half-whispered, half-gritted and for the first time, she seemed to have snapped to her true self. "I was raised with the most..." she paused, clearly looking for the right words.

"...misled beliefs," Hermione finished for her. "You were raised by people who lacked compassion, elementary humanism and, excuse me, common sense! You've got nothing to base your beliefs on. You say 'Oh, I hate mudbloods because I'm better than them' but give me one good reason why! Why are you, a pureblood, better than me, a muggleborn? I'm just as human as you are, just as capable of emotions! You hate people like me only because your racist family taught you to! And I'm so so angry at them for spreading such hatred and instilling it into their own children, but—" Hermione took a deep breath. "I am even angrier at you for not forming your own opinion!"

"I formed my own opinion years ago, thank you," said Bellatrix, her voice trembling. "I've seen what mudbloods are capable of. If it weren't for them, Perseus would still be sane and he would have never done—!" Bellatrix faltered, looking as if she had said something indecent.

But Hermione's blood was boiling too hotly to care for her discomfort. "Finish it!" she demanded.

Bellatrix was glaring at her, clearly battling something within her. Her lips parted but then she moved backwards on the bed and slipped under the covers.

No, honey, you're not running away from this...

Hermione stood up and went through the magical barrier to Bellatrix's bed, anger knocking the rationality out of her head. "You wanted to talk earlier, so let's talk! What would he have never done?"

"Get off my back, Granger!" Bellatrix's muffled voice came through the covers.

"You're an adult so act like one!" snapped Hermione, deep down surprised by her own unhinged behaviour. "What horrible things did mudbloods do to Perseus?"

When Bellatrix remained silent, Hermione snorted. "Exactly as I thought... they did nothing!"

Bellatrix sat up and turned to her, locking their eyes. "You don't know a thing," she whispered angrily.

Hermione decided to push her luck; she was so done with being nice. "He's your uncle, isn't he? Was he doing inappropriate things with mudbloods, too?"

There was a storm reflecting in Bellatrix's eyes upon looking at Hermione; she swallowed, her jaw tensing and her teeth gritting before she let out a barely visible and short-lived smile. "No, not mudbloods. Me."

Having said that, she averted her eyes and slowly reclined back onto the pillow.

Hermione's face faltered. She was staring at her profile in shock, her eyes widening. "Bellatrix, do you... do you know what you've just said?" she whispered after a long moment of thick silence.

"Do you?" asked Bellatrix's deeply modulated voice. Pulling the covers to her waist, she turned her head away from Hermione, who sank onto the floor and sat there quietly for a very very long time.

No...no, this couldn't be...

Trembling, she placed her elbows on the bed, eyeing Bellatrix's hand resting at her left side. Hermione hesitated before reaching out and gingerly touching the soft skin. There was no reaction from Bellatrix. Hermione placed her hand over hers fully, holding it like a flower made of thin glass. She lay her head on the bed and stayed unmoving even long after Bellatrix had closed her eyes and fallen asleep.

---

A/N: Dear God, I've never received such a high amount of comments and messages as I have for the last chapter. Words can't do justice to how much I appreciate it! Thank you!

I'm really touched but it's all very bittersweet since I'm bringing a bit of bad news.

Even though I know exactly where I want to go with this story and I've got everything planned out, I'm not sure when there's going to be an update. I've always tried to be transparent about everything and so, even though I'll probably disappoint a few of you I must admit that I'm finding it harder and harder to stay motivated and excited about Bellamione ship. I don't want to mess up the story by being forced into writing just for the sake of updating and therefore not giving my all...

(Also, I might have fallen for Madam Spellman, so I'm strongly debating writing a story about them, and by strongly I mean, I'm already doing research.)
(Yeah this situation is totally my fault and I'm giving you all permission to call me a bitch.)

(So if I don't show up for quite some time... you know what's going on.)

—WITH ALL MY LOVE, AP