By early October, the summer's warmth was slowly submitting to the chill in the air. Hermione smiled to herself as she felt the wind ruffle her curls. She had just come from the quill shop, and was more than pleased with her new silver eagle-feather quill. It was a late birthday gift from Uncle Severus, who had shortly told her to stop by the shop and pick it up at the end of their previous lesson.
A few fat clouds floated by, and she blinked affectionately up at them as she decided where to go next. Perhaps she should go to Honeyduke's...
"Hermione!"
She groaned internally as she heard two familiar voices shout her name, but plastered on a smile. Turning, she gave a half-hearted wave to Neville and Ginny.
"We're going to meet Luna at the Three Broomsticks," Ginny said excitedly, "Won't you come?"
The word "No" was on the tip of her tongue, but something softened inside of her as she took in their expectant faces.
"Just for a little while," she found herself saying.
"Excellent," Neville said, beaming at her. "Let's go then."
For the first time in her life, Hermione found herself part of a group of friends. Neville, Ginny, and Luna had gravitated to her during the first week of classes, and she found herself unable to shake them.
Not that she necessarily wanted to. As the three Gryffindor's joined Luna at a highly polished table in the three Broomsticks, she felt a surge of affection for the three of them.
"Has Harry been avoiding you too?" groused Ginny as she carried over their butterbeers.
Hermione watched the golden liquid slosh over the redhead's sleeves, and felt herself cringe as she thought of what her mother would say if she allowed such a thing to happen to her robes.
"Oh, come off it, princess," teased Ginny as she set the four mugs down with a thunk.
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the nickname, "I've told you not to call me that," she growled.
Luna peered mildly over the top of her mug, "But you don't really mind, Hermione. That's why she keeps doing it."
Neville and Ginny laughed as Hermione colored and muttered "Thanks, Luna."
The blonde grinned, "Of course." Rather than lift the mug of butterbeer, she stooped her head to slurp happily at the sweet beverage. Again, Hermione heard her mother's voice in her head, admonishing the lack of table manners.
"I think you should give Harry a break," said Neville thoughtfully. "He's under a lot of pressure lately, and it can't be easy-"
"You know what's good for relieving pressure?" asked Ginny hotly, "Talking to your friends!" She angrily snatched up her mug and held it to her lips, hissing as she burned her tongue.
Neville shook his head, "I think there's more going on. He seems more withdrawn than usual."
Hermione shifted in her seat, and hid her discomfort by drinking her butterbeer. She had the creeping sensation that Draco was trying to keep Harry away from her. It was subtle, but it seemed like whenever she joined them Draco invited Harry to go race on their broomsticks, or to visit Hagrid. And when they did stick around her brother was careful to keep the conversation light.
After two weeks of this uncomfortable treatment, Hermione had taken to avoiding both boys.
Luna hummed, and straightened. Foam clung to her chin and lips, and she licked it off happily, reminding Hermione of a kitten who had been given a bowl of cream. "Harry's always been a bit withdrawn," the blonde said, "he's got a silver shackle that weighs him down."
Hermione exchanged glances with Neville and Ginny, as they always did when the blonde said something strange. A small grin played on her lips, and she took an easier drink.
"Then again," Luna said placidly, "we all have our shackles. Some of ours are bigger than others." Her cobalt eyes slid up to Hermione's, and the brunette felt a jolt go through her.
"What's wrong?"
Bellatrix's voice flowed like liquid velvet into her head, and Hermione could not stop the sigh of relief.
Luna… I think she might suspect something. She expected to be laughed at, or even ignored, but instead Bellatrix gave a thoughtful hum.
"Sometimes I think that girl might be a seer."
Hermione shivered, I hope not, she thought, aware that Neville and Ginny had switched their conversation to the subject of dueling. If Luna knows anything, and she says anything-
"Your friends will laugh at her," said Bellatrix simply.
Guilt flooded Hermione's body. It was true. Neville and Ginny seemed to have complete faith in her after the Battle at the Ministry. As did Harry. None of them would believe that she was a Death Eater in training.
Except Draco.
She didn't realize that the thought had slipped through her Occlumency shields until Bellatrix sighed, "It's better he know now. Betraying those you're friendly with is one thing. Betraying family…"
A sharp bolt of anguish that was not her own shot through Hermione, and she briefly wondered at it.
"Enough melancholy," snapped Bellatrix, "It's your birthday."
My birthday was two weeks ago, Bella.
"And I missed it, so we're going to make up for it today."
The meaning of the words sank into Hermione, and she gasped out loud. "Stomachache," she said quickly as three pairs of eyes looked at her in concern.
Bellatrix was chuckling inside her head.
You can't Bella, there's Aurors guarding the village.
"Not the entire village," She sounded very pleased with herself. "The Hog's Head is still very accomodating. Won't you join me?"
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She already knew she was not going to refuse. Her stomach was churning with anxiety, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that had spread across her chest.
"Are you ok, Hermione?" asked Neville.
She grimaced, "I think I ate something that disagrees with me," she said, forcing a whimper into her voice. "I'm sorry, I think I have to excuse myself."
There was a chorus of reassurances, and when Hermione pulled out a galleon to pay for her butterbeer Ginny arched a brow and said, "Don't even think about it, Princess. You can get the next round."
She smiled, and bid her friends goodbye, and then walked faster than she thought possible to the Hog's Head.
"Go upstairs, don't look anyone in the eye."
Hermione did as she was bade, and climbed the dusty staircase. The wooden stairs were stained with dark fluids, and she curled her lip as she tried to hold her robes above the mess. A single sputtering candle illuminated the blistered wallpaper. It might have once been pretty, but the floral pattern was nearly inscrutable beneath decades of oily dust.
"Second floor, room 6B."
She panted slightly as she emerged in a dim corridor. Like everything else in the Hog's Head, the single round window at the end of the corridor was caked in dust. Several panes were missing their glass, and a breeze lessened the smell of stale bodies and spilled beer.
The floorboards creaked as she made her way down the corridor, her eyes scanning the bronze plates affixed to each. It turned out that 6B was the one located closest to the window.
She reached for the handle, and then paused, feeling awkward. Should she knock?
Thankfully, the door opened before she could become too wrapped up in her thoughts.
"Happy Birthday Doveling!" laughed Bellatrix, throwing the door wide.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the dark witch. Bellatrix was dressed in deep red robes, the material as shimmering and multi-faceted as a ruby. The neck plunged, showing off the ample curve of her breasts. Multiple strings of black pearls were clasped around her throat, accentuating the milkiness of her skin. Her dark curls had been pulled back in a ponytail, a look which seemed too informal for the dress robes, but also made her look younger than Hermione had ever seen her.
She was… beautiful.
And the smirk she shot at Hermione informed her that she was very aware of the thoughts that were racing through the brunette's mind. "Come in before the rabble get wind that we're here."
Unable to form a coherent reply, Hermione entered the room. It was cleaner than the corridor had been, if somewhat spartan. There was a small bed in an iron frame, a rickety table with two mismatched chairs, and a desk that looked like it would collapse if anything was placed upon it.
The saving grace of the room was the enormous window that overlooked the Forbidden Forest. And in front of it Bellatrix had spread out a small picnic. There was a large chocolate cake, a bottle of something that Hermione guessed was elf wine, and two glasses.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, grinning as she took everything in.
Warm breath tickled her ear, "I figured this was the closest we could get to an actual picnic."
A shiver traced it's way down Hermione's back, and she was very aware of how close Bellatrix was to her. The strange tingling that had begun as soon as Bellatrix opened the door pulsed beneath her skin. "Th-thank you, Bella," she said, trying to gain control over her body's reaction.
A low chuckle tickled her ear. "It's the least I could do. I'm not about to miss another birthday."
She moved away, and Hermione found herself missing the closeness.
"Sit," commanded the older witch, summoning a velvet cushion for Hermione to recline against.
Kicking off her shoes, Hermione primly sat on the blanket. She watched Bellatrix move around the room, performing basic silencing and warding spells.
"You should never be too comfortable," she told Hermione "Enemies lurk everywhere."
"You won't let anything happen to me," said Hermione out loud, feeling warm at the thought.
She was rewarded with a fond smile, "I think I need to increase the surprise attacks," purred Bellatrix. "You're becoming too complacent."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort something, but snapped it closed when Bellatrix sauntered over to where she was and sat close enough that their legs were pressed together. "Not today though?"
She pressed a finger to her lips as if in thought, and then let out an affected sigh. "I suppose I can let it pass this once," she said, "since it's a special occasion and all."
For some reason, Hermione felt her cheeks burn as Bellatrix grinned at her, and it took her a moment to realize that the fluttering feeling in the pit of her belly was not entirely her own.
"Cake?" asked Bellatrix in a far too innocent voice.
Hermione nodded, still flushing.
"My mother would be so proud to know that I remember all of my domestic training," said Bellatrix, clicking the "c" on the end of "domestic" a little too hard. She swirled her wand in a graceful series of arches, and the cake sliced itself and plated two pieces. Another series of swirls uncorked the wine and poured two glasses of the deep burgundy liquid.
"Thanks," murmured Hermione, catching her plate and glass from where they floated in the air. She grinned as she noticed the red compote between the cake layers. "You remembered!"
There was a gentle laugh. "Chocolate and raspberry," husked Bellatrix, "The only cake you ever ask for. How was I to forget?" She summoned a pair of forks and gave one to Hermione.
It was the most delicious thing Hermione had ever eaten. The tart compote melded perfectly with the chocolate, and she couldn't help the groan of satisfaction that escaped her lips as she finished her first bite.
Bellatrix watched her with a smile. "I'll tell Rab that you like it then."
"Rab made this?!" asked Hermione, blushing as she realized her mouth was full.
"He enjoys cooking. He only does it for special people though, so consider yourself lucky."
"Tell him I said thank you!"
Bellatrix watched her in amusement as she finished her first piece, and then most of a second. The wine was delicious as well, though she refused when Bellatrix offered to pour another glass.
"I have to go back soon," she said, sobering immediately. She could feel the dark witch's stab of disappointment, but Bellatrix plastered a large smile over her face.
"No matter. When Christmas comes we'll have all the reveling in the world." She threw herself back on the cushion, and grinned up at Hermione. "I'll show you what a real celebration looks like. None of that stuffy nonsense that Cissy calls a party."
"Mother's parties are the event of the season," said Hermione quietly. She thought of the woman at King's Cross, and wondered if they would even have a party this year. The number of black armbands grew every day, and though she was protected by her associated with Harry, she knew her mother (and the Malfoy family in general) had no such protections.
An arm snaked around her waist and pulled until the younger witch was laying on top of Bellatrix.
"Bella!" gasped Hermione. All thoughts of her mother and their social situation flew from her mind as she realized that her body was pressed flush against Bellatrix's. The older witch seemed to be both firm and soft at once, and Hermione hurried to push herself up before Bellatrix wrapped her arms around the younger woman and hugged her tight. "I'm going to hurt you," she said.
"Relax," whispered Bellatrix, "You won't hurt me."
She was so deliciously warm beneath Hermione. More than anything she wanted to move her hands from where they were braced against the floor and explore-
"Do it then," purred Bellatrix, "I don't mind."
Hermione let out a squeak as she realized that she had let those thoughts past her occlumency shields, and buried her burning face in Bellatrix's neck.
I'm so, so sorry, she babbled internally. I don't know what's come over me.
"I have a few ideas," the tone was so teasing that the fluttering in the pit of Hermione's stomach ignited. She could feel Bellatrix stroking her fingers up and down her back, and even that seemingly innocent gesture made her skin feel like it was on fire.
"Bella," she whispered hoarsely. She could feel the older witch's breath increase against her ear, and she knew she wasn't the only one who felt this way. Something tightened in her, and she turned her head instinctively to capture Bellatrix's lips in her own.
She tasted like chocolate and wine. Lips that were softer than she expected pressed firmly back against hers, and she felt her breath hitch.
She had always prided herself on not being as innocent as her brother teasingly claimed she was. She had read after all, and as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad she had stumbled across one too many awkward fumblings.
But when Bellatrix curled her fingers through her hair and pulled her closer she felt so raw and new that she wondered if everything she'd ever supposed about relationships was wrong.
Her hand hesitantly slid up Bellatrix's side to cup her breast, and she squeezed tentatively. Bellatrix's responding moan caused her to tingle from navel to core, and she broke away from their kiss with a gasp.
"Bella," she whined, feeling both excited and terrified at her feelings. She wanted to make the older witch make that noise again.
"I know, Doveling," purred Bellatrix, leaning up to pepper light kisses across Hermione's jawline. "I feel it too."
And she did. Hermione could feel the other witch's arousal mixing with her own. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she clung to Bellatrix as the older witch sat up and helped settle Hermione in her lap. A searing kiss was pressed against the girl's temple, and then Bellatrix rested her cheek against the top of Hermione's curls.
"Don't stop," Hermione practically sobbed. Every inch of her skin was on fire, and she felt that the only thing that would make it stop was if Bellatrix continued.
A low laugh vibrated against her head. "Not here, Doveling. Not like this."
"I don't mind," gasped Hermione, her eyes still shut. She nuzzled into Bellatrix's neck, and gave the soft skin an experimental kiss.
A sharp hiss sounded from above her, and Bellatrix's hold on her tightened. "I mind."
It was like someone had slapped her. Hermione went rigid, and her eyes flew open, hurt. "You… You don't want me?"
Bellatrix's pupils were blown wide as she slid agile fingers beneath Hermione's chin and forced her to look up. "Of course I do," she said, her voice raspy with lust. "Merlin, Dove!" She pressed her eyes tightly shut, and Hermione could feel her struggling to control her breathing. "But not like this. Not here."
"Ok," she said, feeling very small. She felt Bellatrix's fingers caress her cheeks, and then a gentler kiss was pressed to her lips again.
"Hey," Bellatrix tapped a warm finger against Hermione's cheekbone, and pressed her forehead against the girl's, "I know you can feel it." There was no question in Hermione's mind that "it" was the burning passion- both hers and Bellatrix's- that swirled through her core. The dark witch continued, "There's no one else I would ever do this for," she gestured towards the empty glasses and that half-eaten cake. "Only you. You know why?"
Because we share a mental bond that lets us know each other's secrets? Thought Hermione insecurely.
Her answer was a low laugh that made her blush all over again. "Not all of each other's secrets, Dove." Her eyes sparkled. Out loud she rasped.
"Because you're mine."
Hermione searched her eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but knew she would find none.
"We are inevitable," continued Bellatrix, one arm firmly wrapped around Hermione's waist while the other stroked through the unruly curls.
"You make it sound like we don't have a choice."
"Maybe we don't."