So, yikes, it's been some time since I've posted a chapter for this story. But, I have finally found the muse I needed to finish this chapter and I will have the next one up when I can. School comes first lest I be...EXPELLED. Which, according to Hermione, is the worst that could happen.
That aside, I hope you're all well and excited for an update.
Some reality got ahold of me
And I don't think I'll escape
Am I too attached to a memory?
Stuck in my head for eternity
Am I in a dream or the in between?
-Starset, Waking Up
A drop of sweat dripped off the tip of Hermione's nose, its course diverted by her panting. Despite the chill in the air, she was covered in sweat from Bellatrix's training. The older witch stored her wand as Hermione braced herself with her hands on her thighs. Her muscles shook with the effort of holding herself up, threatening to leave her collapsed in the overgrown grass of Black Manor. The dry grass crunched underneath her as she shifted her weight and stood tall. Bellatrix's face twitched with a hint of pride before she carefully schooled it into a mask of nothing. Hermione ignored the trembling in her arm as she held it outstretched, wand gripped loosely in her hand. When she was away from Hogwarts, she felt free. Ghosts of Harry and Ron lingered wherever she turned, but only when she began to forget them. But here, with Bellatrix, there were no lingering memories of them, no reason for them to be here.
"Let's try something new. Follow me," Bellatrix beckoned, waltzing through barely-there doors and into her Manor.
Hermione let her arm fall, tucking her wand up into her sleeve. The feel of the vinewood had become...strange. She had grown so comfortable with the walnut of Bellatrix's wand, and hers reminded her of her adventures with them. Obediently, she followed curiously after Bellatrix, casting wonderstruck glances at the ruined walls of Black Manor. Bellatrix was easy to follow, despite her speed. Her footfalls were nearly silent but Hermione had grown so accustomed to the older witch's everything that she was able to make them out clearly. Broken echoes bounced off the walls, live memories of what had happened here. Bellatrix was letting her see, was willingly exposing the moments captured in portraits of her own making.
The sharp inhale that Hermione took upon seeing the library almost choked her, and she couldn't help but let her jaw drop as she scanned the countless spines adorning the walls. Reverently, and looking to Bellatrix for permission, she ran her fingertips across the surely delicate spines, marveling at the eclectic variety of titles. Bellatrix threw herself onto a chair, picking up a book that had been carelessly discarded and flipping through the pages. Hermione let her unasked question hang between them, knowing it would be answered if Bellatrix wanted to.
"Third bookcase, center row, eighth book," came Bellatrix's voice. Hermione moved slowly toward the indicated book, taking her time to admire the ancient texts around her. As her fingers brushed the spine of the book Bellatrix wanted her to read, she gently worked it out of the shelf, taking care not to damage it. There was no title, at least, not one she could make out. The dark leather seemed to swallow the light around it, and the book was cold in her hands. Hermione knew the next instructions would be to open it, so she found a chair that was more or less capable of supporting her weight and made herself comfortable.
Hours passed before Hermione looked up from the book, captivated by its secrets. Bellatrix was haphazardly sprawled on top of a loveseat, chewing her lip as she poured over the pages. Hermione watched as her dark eyes flicked back and forth as she read each line, admired the full, red lip captured between teeth. She knew it was time to get back, the day was almost over and she had classes to prepare for. She wasn't eager to begin the lessons on dueling, and she doubted the ability of many students to handle it. She wasn't going to make it easy for them. Briefly, Hermione wondered what school would have been like if Bellatrix was the DADA professor.
"We should get back," Bellatrix sighed, tossing her book onto a decrepit table. Hermione nodded, placing her own book down with more care.
"No. Bring it with you," Bellatrix instructed.
Ginny stood next to Hermione at the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying her best to ignore the disturbingly intelligent narrow-eyed gaze of the raven perched on the brunette's shoulder. She was tuning out most of what Hermione was saying, already being an apt dueler due to circumstance. When Hermione had asked her to help demonstrate to her students for the dueling lecture, she was through the roof. She took it as a sign that Hermione was becoming more like her old self, and getting away from Professor Binns was an added bonus. As Ginny looked out at the class of second years, she wondered how she had grown up so quickly without noticing. It seemed like just yesterday she was a naive first year getting herself into trouble. Now the boy she had crushed on and her brother were dead. War had a way of changing people. Ginny dismissed the dark thought before it could show on her face, sensing the end of Hermione's lecture and the beginning of the demonstration.
As if to prove her right, Polaris vacated her perch in search of a new one. Hermione turned toward Ginny, narrating their actions for the students as they carried them out slower than they normally would. As they turned, rather than casting a spell, they moved back toward the center, preparing to go at full speed this time. Ginny had already been told ahead of time to stay her wand the first time, and she didn't dare go against her friend. Reaching their final step, both witches turned, a spell flying from each of their wands and colliding in the center. Ginny blinked in surprise, quickly composing herself as she constructed a tentative plan of attack. Hermione was brilliant, and Ginny knew her moves were predictable to the other witch, having practiced together and fought alongside each other more times than either of them cared to admit. Hermione, however, had never found a tactic that suited her, so she had always employed a new strategy each time, making her next move difficult for Ginny to predict.
"Expelliarmus!" She cast, ducking under a spell sent her way. She watched as Hermione redirected her spell with ease that she had never seen the older witch possess before and knew Hermione had been practicing alone.
Ginny dodged a flurry of spells, bobbing left and right before ducking into a roll. Springing to her feet, she simultaneously cast a stunner, hoping to catch Hermione by surprise. Hermione's movements were fluid, and Ginny knew she had seen the style of fighting before but couldn't place it at the moment. It was familiar, but not familiar enough that she knew why. Lost in thought, Ginny narrowly avoided Hermione's stunner, mentally shaking her thoughts away. She knew she wouldn't best Hermione, she rarely ever had, even when she employed her signature hex. Hermione's weakness had been dueling, but even when they would practice together she had usually drawn the redhead into a trap. Now, with a year on the run, no doubt having to become a good duelist by necessity, and the Battle of Hogwarts under her belt, Hermione was better than she had ever been.
Growing tired, Ginny was more sloppy with her spell work, eventually allowing Hermione to disarm her. The students were watching with rapt attention, many of them in awe of the skill each woman possessed. As Ginny's wand landed in Hermione's waiting hand, the students burst into applause.
"Thank you, Ginny. Fifteen points to Gryffindor for putting up a good fight," Hermione said, handing the redhead her wand back.
"Anytime, Professor," Ginny replied, cheeks flushing slightly at the praise. She had always looked up to the older bookworm, and to hear praise from her-something she hadn't heard since before she left-warmed her heart.
"Okay, everyone, I want you to get in pairs but make sure that your partner is from your own house," Hermione directed to the students, watching as they eagerly paired off, ready for something more involved than writing notes on a lecture.
Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva closely examined Hermione as they sat in the Great Hall. She had seemed to make great improvement in her health, attending almost every meal, save for the occasional time where she was reading or grading. She almost seemed happier too, feeding a bit to Bellatrix every now and then. The dark cloud that had seemed to be hanging over her had certainly lessened, though Minerva sensed there was still something else. Bellatrix's presence had certainly helped, though why that was, Minerva didn't know. She did know that Hermione was doing better, and that was most important to the now-Headmistress. Whatever form Hermione's happiness took, she would be hard-pressed to deny it, and allowing the young woman a little more freedom to come and go on weekends was certainly something that made her a little happier. Minerva imagined it would be hard for her, too, if she had just lost two friends that may as well be her brothers. They had practically grown up together inside the walls of the school, so it was no surprise that Hermione often seemed haunted by memories.