Heed the rating.
XX
The days blurred by in a rush of secret meetings and lessons. Before long, the Easter Holidays were upon them. The Forest Cottage was as lovely as ever, and Hermione found herself resenting it a tad less as she joined her family in a sunroom that definitely hadn't been there the last time.
Like the manor's sunroom, it overlooked the (comparably tiny) garden, the back gate separating the manicured cottage from the lush forest beyond.
"I thought we'd spend the afternoon in London," Narcissa said to Draco as the brunette entered the room. "There's a new tailor I want to try. It's time you got some more appropriate robes. You won't be a schoolboy forever."
Hermione kissed her mother's cheek in greeting, and ruffled Draco's hair as she took the seat beside him.
"Hermione is going to be bored if we spend all afternoon at the tailor," Draco commented, passing a plate of sausages to his sister.
"I actually have a…" she didn't actually know what her plans were for the day, but she knew she would be spending them with Bellatrix, "previous engagement."
Her mother looked at her sharply, "I agreed to let you go for the entire day, but Bellatrix knows to bring you home this evening. If you are not home by ten I will not be happy."
"I know." It accidentally came out as a grumble.
Her mother narrowed her eyes warningly, "Hermione Narcissa, I will not bend on this."
"I'll be home by ten," Hermione said quickly, spearing two sausages and smiling as her brother tipped two fried eggs onto her plate. Her mother nodded in satisfaction and relaxed.
For once, Draco's expression did not darken at the mention of his eldest aunt. Instead, he looked curiously at her. "What are you going to be doing all day?" He slipped a piece of sausage to Turnip, who was sitting attentively just underneath the tablecloth.
"Advanced transfiguration," she said cheerily, accepting toast from her mother, and selecting a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl. "Bellatrix wants to work on my hiding skills."
From the look on her face, Narcissa knew exactly what the day entailed. She kept her daughter's gaze as she took a sip of her tea.
"That sounds cool," said Draco evenly.
The sound of chimes filled the room, and the two teenagers looked up at their mother in surprise.
"I added that charm while you were at school," she said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin and standing. "It must be Bellatrix."
"She can get through the wards now?" Draco asked Hermione, who shrugged.
"Apparently." She was curious about that, and a strangled hope fluttered in her chest. If her mother was taking steps to accept Bellatrix again…
There was the sound of hushed voices in the hallway, and then Narcissa returned with the dark witch in tow.
"Good morning doveling!" she cried gaily over the sound of Turnip's excited yips. The wubble tripped over himself in excitement as he ran to greet the witch, and she happily scratched behind one ear. A moment later she straightened, taking a seat directly across from Draco. "Draco," she flashed the boy a grin, "How's school?"
To Hermione's surprise, Draco did not react negatively to her presence. He did not smile back, but he didn't scowl at her either. Instead, he answered levelly, "It's going well."
Narcissa reclaimed her seat, and conjured a plate and teacup for Bellatrix. "Draco's top of his class in charms," she said fondly.
"Only because Hermione refuses to do the extra credit," he snorted. He elbowed his sister in the ribs, and she shot him an affectionate glare.
"I've been busy," she said, aware that Bellatrix was watching her closely. "I'm top of my class in everything else anyway," she added, shaking her head as he burst into laughter.
"There she is! I was worried something had happened to my sister." He stabbed a piece of sausage on his fork and took a triumphant bite.
Narcissa spared them both an indulgent smile as she poured tea into Bellatrix's cup. "Hermione says you're going to practice Transfiguration." She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I hope I don't have to stress to you how displeased I will be if my daughter returns home in pieces?"
"Mother!" Hermione squeaked. "I'm not going to return in pieces."
"We've been preparing for months," Bellatrix waved off her sister's concerns with a smile, and winked at Hermione. "Nothing will happen to your precious daughter."
"That had better be the case." To Hermione she said, "Have a little more, darling. I don't want you to get hungry while you're practicing."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "I have food, Cissy."
Humming noncommittally, Narcissa tipped some more fruit onto Hermione's place and refilled her teacup.
Hermione felt a blush spread over her cheeks at being treated like a child in front of Bellatrix, but she knew better than to argue with her mother.
"Where do you go for Hermione's lessons?" Draco asked his aunt. He twirled his fork in his fingers, and it was a testament to how relaxed their mother was at the Forest Cottage that he was not reprimanded.
She paused, considering him for a moment. "We practice at my hunting lodge," she said slowly, as if making up her mind right then and there to trust him. "It's a favorite residence of mine. There's plenty of room to maneuver."
"Is it in Britain?" he pressed.
"No, France. It was a wedding gift from the Rosier side of the family."
This seemed to satisfy him, and he shared a look with his mother.
Catching this, Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Why are you so interested, Draco?"
He shrugged, "I want to make sure that you are outside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's jurisdiction. It would be a pity if you were arrested for practicing Transfiguration, dear sister." He flashed her one of his adorable grins, and she felt her brows knit together.
"No one is going to be arrested," said Bellatrix hastily, as if afraid that Narcissa was going to change her mind. "The lodge is unplottable, and no one- not even magical folk- can get beyond my wards."
Draco shrugged, as if he wasn't bothered either way, and polished off his breakfast. Hermione wanted nothing more than to kick him.
Luckily, their mother just hummed, and took another sip of her tea.
Hermione finished her breakfast as fast as she was able to without breaking one of her mother's table rules and hurriedly fetched her wand and her spring cloak.
"Remind me to get her a new cloak," Narcissa said idly to Draco when Hermione returned. "This one is starting to look shabby."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "No one but you would call it that, Cissy."
"Anyone with eyes would, Bella dear."
Hermione shared a look with her brother, who looked as amused as she felt. The cloak was impeccable, of course. It was two years old, and so the spring green of it was not as shiny as it had been when it was first brought home, but she had spent enough time around the Weasley and Professor Lupin to know that it was still a much better quality than most.
"At least she won't be in public," Narcissa sighed, standing to hug her daughter. She had been more affectionate since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. "What color would you like, green again?"
"Surprise me," Hermione grinned as she stopped to say goodbye to Turnip, and then, with a wave to her brother, they were at the door.
"Oh- and Bellatrix-" her mother called out just as Bellatrix turned the handle.
The dark witch looked up, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "I'll have her home by ten, Cissy, don't worry!"
"See that you do!"
Hermione grabbed her hand and pulled her outside before another word could be spoken. "When did that happen?" she asked quietly as she led Bellatrix down to the apparation point by the gate.
"When did what happen?"
Giving her a pointed look, she elaborated, "You're not barred from the Forest Cottage anymore."
With an extremely smug smile, Bellatrx wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, "I guess her sense of family duty finally won out."
It could not be that simple, but Hermione was willing to drop it for the moment.
XX
It was the strangest feeling in the world, becoming an animagus.
A cool, tingling sensation, like being washed with peppermint water, spread all over her skin, seeping in and making her bones quiver and bend in shape. It seemed to happen in slow motion. She shrank, her skin sprouting fur as her body shifted and rearranged itself. It could not be called painful, but nor was it pleasant. She felt a grinding sensation in her joints, and a popping sensation in her spine.
Then, just as quickly as it had started it was over, and she was looking up into Bellatrix's beaming face. They were in Bellatrix's bedroom, standing before the full-length mirror that Bellatrix had leaned against her wardrobe. Hermione could hear the steady tha-thump of Bellatrix's pulse, and her ears pricked as she picked up the tiny tha-thump-tha-thump-tha-thump that came from the cage on Bellatrix's desk. She looked around, towards the mysterious creature, and then looked back at Bellatrix's laugh.
Well? Is it everything you hoped for?
"Better than," Bellatrix moved aside so that Hermione could get closer to the mirror. "See for yourself."
On slightly unsteady legs, Hermione moved forward. A russet face looked back at her, with shining brown eyes and glossy black ears. A bushy tail swing behind her, and she looked back over her shoulder to admire it. I'm a fox.
"It's perfect, isn't it?" Bellatrix laughed again. "I was hoping you'd be something that blends in well. Walk around! Get used to your legs. It's a little disorienting at first."
It really was. She was reminded of the rowboat she and Draco used to take out on the pond at Malfoy Manor. The ground lurched and churned under her as she walked a loose circle around Bellatrix.
She must have looked silly, because Bellatrix's laugh was a tad more sympathetic, "It helps if you focus on something. Maybe pick something to walk to?"
She settled immediately on the tiny heartbeat coming from the wire birdcage on the desk. Tripping a bit over her feet, she moved closer, noting how the plush carpet turned to smooth wooden floorboards under her feet.
Bellatrix moved to sit on the bed as she watched Hermione sniff around the chair and desk legs.
With a leap that was easier than she thought it would be, Hermione was on the chair. There was a moment of careful maneuvering to face the correct way, and then she planted her front paws on the parchment-littered desk and peered into the cage.
The first thing that hit her was a burning scent that it took her a moment to identify as dust. Her delicate nose twitched, and she let out a little sneeze that made the fluffy creature skitter to the back of the cage.
It was grey, with large round ears and wary eyes. A bristly tail hooked over it's back, and it sat back on it's hind legs to regard Hermione. A slim paw wiped across it's nose.
"That's Dust Mouse," Bellatrix said in a low voice from the bed.
Hermione had never seen anything like it in her life, She's a mouse?
"Rab says she's a chinchilla. Apparently they live in South America."
Where did you get her?
For some reason, this question amused Bellatrix highly. If Hermione had been in her human form she would have smiled from the weight of Bellatrix's mirth.
"I found her right after I was freed."
There was more to it than that, but as Hermione looked into the grave eyes of the little creature, she decided that she'd rather not know. She gave the creature one last look, and jumped down.
"Try changing back. Just picture your human form in your mind and concentrate."
Hermione took a deep breath, and did as she was told. This time, her bones steadily grew hotter and hotter, until she thought she could not take it anymore. Then, with a popping sensation she was herself again.
"Ergh!" She blinked a few times and shook herself. Her skin crawled uncomfortably for a few moments after the fur had receded. "Does that feeling ever go away?"
"You get used to it," there was a teasing note in Bellatrix's voice, and she stepped forward to wrap an arm around Hermione's waist. There was something serious shrouding her though. She could feel it in the way Bellatrix held her tightly.
"Bella?" Hermione turned in her arms to face her. "Bella, what's wrong?"
The older witch tried to play it off with one of her dazzling smiles. "Wrong, doveling? Who says anything is wrong?" She tried to kiss her, but Hermione pulled away.
"You can't lie to me, Bellatrix. I know. I can feel it."
There was a heavy sigh, and Bellatrix reached to cup Hermione's face in both of her hands. "Please let it go, Doveling," she pleaded, her voice losing all of it's playful quality. "I can't… I don't want to spoil it. Can't we just have our perfect day? Please?" Her voice shook a little as it dropped to a whisper, "Just for today?"
She looked into Hermione's eyes, and the brunette sucked in a gasp at the raw vulnerability she saw there.
"Of course," she breathed, moving closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. She reached up and caught Bellatrix's hands, tangling their fingers together. "I won't make you do anything," she promised, kissing the older witch gently.
Bellatrix pulled her backwards, until they fell onto the bed in a mess of wandering hands and hot, fervent kissing.
"This wasn't part of the plan," moaned Bellatrix as Hermione fumbled with the buttons on her robe.
Hermione smirked, "Funny, it was always part of mine." She squeezed one of Bellatrix's breasts, tugging her bra down so that she could press hot, open mouthed kisses to the hardened nub she found there.
Bellatrix hissed, arching into the brunette as she sucked her nipple into her mouth. Her fingers clutched distractedly at the cloth of Hermione's still-buttoned robe, tugging sporadically.
Hermione's smirk grew as she felt Bellatrix's arousal hit her. "Did you want something?" she whispered wickedly, her hand trailed down the gentle curve of Bellatrix's belly, and letting it rest lightly atop the knickers she found at the apex of her thighs. She tapped a single finger and chuckled when Bellatrix jumped. She had learned over the holidays that she liked teasing Bellatrix. She liked it a lot.
"Don't tease me," Bellatrix growled, her forehead was damp, and several fine curls clung to it.
Hermione tapped her finger again, making Bellatrix keen, "But it's so fun," she whispered, feeling her own skin flush in the cool air.
There was a pulse of magic, and Hermione's jaw dropped open as she found herself completely naked atop the dark witch.
Was that wandless magic?
"Don't overthink it," Bellatrix let out a high whine and reached down in frustration to wiggle out of her underwear. She flung them across the room, her bra following shortly afterward, and reached up to tangle her fingers through Hermione's curly mane. "I need you to-" she broke off as Hermione's fingers stroked gently, teasingly between her legs. "Ooooh, yes."
"Need me to what, Bella?"
The dark witch parted her legs, but Hermione kept up the gentle stroking on the outer lips. Her fingertips slowly lightened their pressure, until they were barely grazing the sensitive skin.
"Nooo," Bellatrix groaned, throwing her head back. Her cheeks burned bright red, and her pupils were blown. "Merlin, Doveling, please! Just fuck me already!"
Grinning in satisfaction, Hermione moved so that she was straddling one of Bellatrix's thighs, and lowered herself to kiss Bellatrix's burning forehead, "All you had to do was ask," she whispered, thrusting two fingers as deep as they could go inside Bellatrix.
"Yessss!" Bellatrix panted, pressing her face up into the crook of Hermione's neck as the brunette stroked up a steady rhythm.
Hermione bit her lip as she felt tension coil deliciously in her lower abdomen. "Is this ok, Bella?" When she received no answer she slowed her hand, beginning to second guess herself.
Dark eyes flew open, as Bellatrix pulled back to glare at her. "Don't you dare stop!" Her own hips began to jerk, trying to fall back into the rhythm that Hermione started.
With a laugh, Hermione began her ministrations again, and she was rewarded with the sight of Bellatrix falling back against the pillows, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Hermione!" it was more of a gasp than a shout.
It was amazing to watch the witch she loved fall apart in her arms. It made Hermione feel older, somehow. Protective. She quickened her strokes, feeling the slick heat tighten around her fingers. She added another, and felt herself twitch in response to Bellatrix's moans. Slowly, she began rocking against the thigh she straddled, gasping as the friction built.
"My Bella," she whispered, her soft voice at odds with her rough thrusts. She swept her thumb over Bellatrix's clit, and then again and again, relishing the way the older witch wiggled and jerked with each pass.
Eyes dark enough to be called black flew open, fastened on her. "Yours," Bellatrix gasped.
"Only mine?" Hermione asked. She didn't know where the question came from, she had told herself she wouldn't make Bellatrix do this over and over again-
"Only yours," Bellatrix swore, clinging to Hermione. "Doveling, please. I'm so close!"
The time for teasing had passed. Hermione's fingers sped up, and in a fluid motion she moved herself down between Bellatrix's legs so that she could capture her clit between her lips. Her tongue moved like it had a life of it's own, pressing and swirling as Bellatrix bucked and shouted her release.
"Dove!"
Hermione kept going as Bellatrix shook, gently easing up until she was pressing tender kisses to the oversensitive flesh.
"My Bella," she cooed between kisses, her mouth moving to her belly as Bellatrix finally stilled. She kissed her way up her lover's body, taking the witch in her arms. "My Bella."
Bellatrix panted, exhausted as she lay her head over Hermione's breast and sighed.
"Wh-where did you learn how to do that?"
Smirking, Hermione rested her chin on Bellatrix's curls, "Books."
"I don't recall coming across anything like that when I was at Hogwarts."
"Not from Hogwarts, I had to order them. But there's a whole market for them if you know where to look."
Bellatrix chuckled, "Well, I'm grateful." She let out a contented sigh and relaxed fully in Hermione's arms.
For a few blissful moments the only sound was Dust Mouse scratching around in her cage. Then Bellatrix's fingers began their slow descent south.
"Now, Doveling," she said, her breath hot against Hermione's cooling skin, "I think it's my turn…"
As Bellatrix promised, it was the perfect day. When they were done in the bedroom they took to the woods in their animagus forms, Hermione's steps becoming more sure and steady as she raced through the trees. Their "training" was more like playing as they leapt out at each other, taking turns tracking the other. Bellatrix was stronger in her dog form, but Hermione was faster, and she thoroughly enjoyed popping up and surprising the other witch. It was a blissful afternoon.
They returned to the lodge dirty and tired, but utterly happy just as the sun was beginning to dip below the roof.
"You're just in time!" Rabastan sang out to them as they trudged through the kitchen entrance. He stood next to a lanky elf at the stove, "Dinner should be ready in an hour!" He made a shoo-ing motion with his hands, "Go clean up!" His overly large red and white checkered apron flapped in the breeze from the open door as he bustled around the stove.
The elf wrung its hands as Bellatrix swooped over and pulled the lid off the nearest pot.
"Noooooo!" cried Rabastan, reminding Hermione once again that though his body was much older than hers, his mind was not. He grabbed the lid and slammed it back down on the pot, glowering at his cackling sister-in-law. "You smell terrible," he said snippily.
Bellatrix made a show of throwing her arms around him, and he let out an indignant squawk.
Watching them made Hermione miss Draco. She stood by the doorway, looking on as Bellatrix planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek and then leap away.
"Why can't you be more respectful?" groused Rabastan, scrubbing angrily at his cheek. Underneath his apron were dress robes that would have been the height of fashion a century earlier.
Bellatrix hummed happily as she returned to Hermione. "It's in my blood, I suppose. Come on," she said, gripping Hermione's hand and pulling her towards the staircase, "I'll show you the guest room."
"Why?" asked Hermione curiously.
"We're playing pretend tonight, it seems. Can't have you going to dinner dressed like a common Weasley, can I?" There was a playful sparkle in Bellatrix's dark eyes as she peered down at the younger witch from the step above. "No," she said softly, running her thumb down the curve of Hermione's cheek, "can't have that at all."
The moment was ruined by the pop of an elf, and a high squeaky voice said, "Master Lestrange wishes Brickle to inform you that he has picked out the outfits for tonight. They have been laid out on the bed of your respective rooms."
"I don't have a room," Hermione informed it, and felt guilty as the little creature squirmed uncomfortably. It seized the fabric of the pillowcase it wore and tightened it around the neck.
"Brickle forgot to tell Miss Malfoy- that the spare room in the east hall-" it's lips were beginning to turn a nasty blue, "is from now on, Miss Malfoy's. Bricken is very sorry, he is-"
"Oh, Bella!" cried Hermione, "Stop him!"
Bellatrix regarded the pathetic scene in front of her, and let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. Elf! Stop that at once!"
It was like watching the strings of a puppet be cut. He relaxed at once, color flooding into his pale skin. "Thank...you Mistress...Lestrange!" he gasped, wiping a shaky hand over his face. "Bricken is very sorry! So very sorry."
Disregarding this, Bellatrix commanded in a bored expression, "From now on, whenever Miss Malfoy is present you are to act as her own personal elf. Obey all her orders as you would mine, and attend to her every need as you would my own. Is that clear?"
The elf straightened, and nodded immediately, "Yes Mistress! Bricken will do just that!"
"I already have an elf, Bella," protested Hermione lightly. Inwardly she thought that maybe it was time to start showing off Winky more. A young lady with a personal elf of her own made an impression...
But Bellatrix was not to be dissuaded. "Not one that knows the Lodge," she insisted. "And it never hurts to have two." To Bricken, she barked, "Go draw a bath immediately!"
The elf flinched, and disappeared with another pop.
"Come," Bellatrix ordered, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the steps. "I'll show you where your room is. Rab and I thought you should have a place of your own now, since I'm hoping we'll see a lot more of you after you're done at Hogwarts." She gave her a suggestive glance, and for some reason Hermione felt her cheeks burn.
"It's right next to mine," Bellatrix continued, pulling her down the darkened hall. "I've never permitted anyone to actually sleep there before you. Ah! Here it is-"
She pushed open the door, and Hermione stepped inside, glancing curiously around. It was large, nearly as large as Bellatrix's own. Unlike Bellatrix's dark room, however, this one was bright and opulent. The furniture- from the screen that separated the clawfoot bathtub to the sofa-was gilded the walls were lines in tapestries of ruby silk. The gold-and-red color scheme carried over to the bed, which was so pristine that Hermione wondered if anyone was ever meant to sleep in it.
She shook herself a little at that thought. Of course she was meant to sleep in it, she was a Malfoy! Her mother's room was at least as grandiose as the one she was in.
True to his word, Rabastan had laid out a beautiful green and silver striped dress that looked as if it had been plucked from the Victorian era.
"Where does he come up with these things?" sighed Bellatrix in mock bewilderment. She squeezed Hermione's arm, "I'll leave you to it, Dove. I've got half an inch of muck to scrub off, no thanks to you!"
"You should have been faster!" Hermione shot back.
In a show of maturity, Bellatrix stuck out her tongue and pulled the door closed.
The spearmint scented water was just what Hermione needed after her day of running about in a foreign body. The warm water seeped into her muscles, easing away the aches and pains.
She was not allowed to rest too long, however, as the elf apparently had a schedule to keep. She was wrapped in a silk dressing gown as the elf painstakingly styled her hair into an elegant updo. With gentle hands, Bricken applied makeup. Before the dress could go on there were petticoats and and a corset, and Hermione gasped aloud as the strings were pulled tight. Finally, she was buttoned into the dress, and Bricken gave her a quivering smile.
"Mistress Malfoy looks very pretty," he chirped.
She did. Regarding herself in the full-length mirror she decided that however strange and outdated, Rabastan' tastes were good. She looked very grown up in her striped gown. Her hair curled alluringly around her face, her eyes were dark, and the thick lashes made them stand out over her pretty nose and curved lips. She gave her reflection a slow smile, and felt a thrill of satisfaction.
"It is almost dinner time," said Bricken haltingly.
Hermione stepped into the heeled shoes that Rabastan had slid beneath the bed, and made her way down to the dining room.
Rabastan, his hair slicked back, stood as she entered. "Beautiful!" He said appreciatively. "I knew that would suit you. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a boy. My grandmother kept all of her mother's dresses and things, and she used to make them parade around the room for me." His eyes gazed dreamily at a spot on the wall.
"You picked the right one," she said gently. "How did you know green and silver are my favorite colors?"
He blinked, and looked at her, his smile making dimples appear in his cheeks. "Why, Bellatrix has told me all about you. She can't seem to stop talking about you, you know? I think she's fairly possessed."
"The word you're looking for is obsessed," said a cool voice from the doorway.
Without looking away from her, Rabastan shook his head. "I don't think so."
Hermione looked up, and felt her breath catch in her throat.
Bellatrix was clad in white, her neckline significantly deeper than Hermione's. Her hair was pulled into a knot at the base of her skull, and pins with star-shaped diamonds dotted her hair.
With catlike elegance she took the seat opposite Hermione, with Rabastan between them.
You look wonderful, thought Hermione, her eyes drinking the other witch in.
She was rewarded with a smirk. Heat pooled low in Hermione's belly, and she began to plan what she would do with their remaining time after dinner.
Their meal was goose glazed in an orange sauce, with brussels sprouts, potatoes, and four kinds of elf-made wine.
"You don't need to drink it all, my lady," said Rabastan as he poured her four tiny glasses. "My mother used to give hers to the kneazle."
They spent a merry dinner talking about redecorating the Lodge, Vercingetorix's new friendship with the local deer, and what plants Rabastan was going to grow in the garden.
"Roses, of course," he said happily as Bricken brought out a cake, "And peonies, and violets!"
Bellatrix watched him fondly as she swallowed the last of her wine, and winked at Hermione. "No Devil's Snare?"
"Of course not!" he said indignantly as he snatched the knife from the shaking elf and began to carve out impossibly large slices of the chocolate cake. "We can't have Devil's Snare in the garden, have you lost your- oh!"
The knife clattered to the ground as he seized his arm.
"Rab?" Hermione asked in concern, rising from her chair. She felt Bellatrix's distress, but it took her a moment to realize that the older witch had also grasped her arm.
"No…" Rab moaned, "He hasn't called me since the first-"
Bellatrix cut in, "I know." She gave Hermione a pained look, "But he knows that we have Hermione tonight, which must mean that he wants to see her."
Fat tears were rolling down Rabastan's' cheeks, and he shook his head. "I can't Bells, I can't!"
"You have to!" Bellatrix reached out and grasped his hand. "Be strong now, Rab. For me. Can you do it?"
He stared at her for a long moment, and then slowly nodded.
Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin," she said, getting up. To Hermione, "I'll side apparate you. It will be the fastest way."
"Shouldn't I change?"
The dark witch shook her head, "We've taken too long already."
With a last sob, Rabastan spun on his heel and disappeared.
Looking at her closely, the older witch offered a hand, which Hermione took without thinking.
The familiar squeezing feeling pressed all around her, and a moment later she emerged in a cold room full of raucous laughter. She recognized it dimly as Riddle Manor.
"And- and here they are! All dressed up like Rabastan, eh?" Hermione blinked stupidly in an attempt to make out the face of the man speaking. "Wanted to play your little games?"
Anger and hatred such as Hermione had never felt hit her square in the stomach, and she nearly doubled over from the force of it.
The speaker came into view, and she recognized him immediately. He looked like Rabastan, but while Rab had soft, gentle eyes, and a sweet, roguish smile, his brother had hard, cruel eyes, and a manic grin that made her want to shrink in fear as she recognized who he was.
Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband.
"Playing with babies now, are we?" He said as he bared his yellow teeth at Hermione. A dirty hand came up to clutch at her cheek, and Bellatrix sprang into motion.
A stinging hex zapped his hand, "Don't touch her!"
He yelped, and brought his own wand up, "You stupid bi-"
"Come now, let's all play nicely."
At Voldemort's soft voice everyone froze.
"Hermione, child. Welcome back. Please, have a seat here with me."
The crowd of Death Eaters parted, allowing her to move towards the slim ottoman he patted. With a hateful look at Rodolphus, Bellatrix took Rabastan's arm and brought him forward.
"Well, don't you look lovely?" Drawled Voldemort, his red eyes tracing the lines of her gown appreciatively. "Do you have your wand?"
The weight of it in her sleeve was the only thing keeping her from clinging to Bellatrix. "Always, my lord." The assembled men all wore their hoods up, so that it was impossible to tell who was who. It gave her a strange claustrophobic feeling.
"Excellent, Excellent. Rabastan," the name was as soft as a caress, "Why do you look so troubled?"
Her heart ached for her friend, who was pale as a ghost. "N-n-n-no reason, my lord," he gasped.
"The half-wit is scared of his own shadow!" growled Rodolphus. "What a pathetic excuse of a man!"
"That's enough Rodolphus," said Voldemort in the same gentle tones. He stood, and moved towards the shrinking Rabastan. Clasping his arms, he said "You are safe here. No harm can come to you. Look at me. No, look at me!"
Rabastan, who had been about to bury his face in Bellatrix's neck, reluctantly met Voldemort's gaze.
"I see." The Dark Lord looked sharply at Rodolphus, "Go check on tonight's festivities."
For a moment, he looked as if he would argue, then he gave a jerky nod and swept off.
The Dark Lord looked down at Rabastan, "He will not harm you here," he said gently.
"Th-th-thank you my lord!" gasped Rabastan.
"We do not exploit the weakness of our own!" Voldemort called out to the murmuring crowd. "We solidify ourselves if an effort to strengthen our forces." He released Rabastan, "This is not why we are here today. Hermione, come. You may come too, Bella."
He led them into the corridor, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief to be away from so many hooded figures.
"Thank you both for coming on such short notice," he said this with the air of someone who was used to having people at his beck and call. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've brought you here?"
Bellatrix hastened to keep up with his long strides. "We would have come no matter what the reason, my lord."
Hermione swallowed down her jealousy at the fawning tone in Bellatrix's voice. They descended a dark stairwell, and soon it became evident that they were entering the basement.
"The time for completing your task is running out," he said softly.
She shivered. Bellatrix looked worriedly back at her.
Voldemort continued his brisk pace even as the stairwell grew darker and darker. "There's only a few months before the school year ends, is there not?"
It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for an answer. "There is, my lord."
He stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, just below a gas lamp. In the dim light his features were more skull-like than ever. Red eyes bore fiercely into hers.
"I expect much of you, Hermione. I will be very disappointed if you fail me. I can assure you your father will be as well. I doubt he's adapted to life in Azkaban. They tell me it's difficult to keep your sanity after the first few months. Isn't that so, Bellatrix?"
"It... yes, my lord. It is."
"Or perhaps you've changed your mind? Perhaps you would rather live a cushioned life like the rest of your contented little family? Perhaps I made a mistake?"
"No my lord!" She reached out and clutched his robes without thinking. He had never spoken to her like this. His voice and his eyes were so cold as they stared at her- into her, and she found herself thinking desperately of what might happen should he lose interest in her. "Please! I will complete my task, I promise it! A Malfoy never goes back on their word!"
"But you aren't exactly a Malfoy, are you?" He asked softly.
She flinched. It was like he had poured icy water over her. She tightened her hold on his robes and felt her eyes pool with tears. She didn't dare break eye contact, even though she wanted nothing more than to be far away from him in that moment.
After a few minutes of this, she pulled together all of her strength and gritted out, "I will not fail you, my lord."
Fingers as cold as ice cupped her cheek. "My dear girl," he said in the same soothing voice he had used on Rabastan, "For your sake, you had better not."
His gaze upon hers was intense, and she felt something dark and foreboding pound within her chest. All of her instincts told her to pull away.
And then he released her, and the moment passed so quickly that afterwards she would question whether or not she had imagined the dark intensity. All she wanted was to collapse into Bellatrix, but she knew that if she so much as touched the other witch that she would be unable to keep from sobbing.
"We won't have another chance for training before your task," he said quietly, turning and walking (at a much slower pace) down the darkened corridor. "I'll begin your proper training this summer, of course, but I thought one session could be helpful to you."
He came to a stop before a door.
"We're ready, my lord." whispered Bellatrix.
He reached out a white hand, and turned the handle.
The sound of crying reached Hermione, and her stomach plummeted.
"Noooo, please! Please take me home! I promise I won't tell anyone!"
They entered into a damp, dark room. Rodolphus sat in one corner, holding onto a chain that lead to a heavy iron collar around the neck of a girl about sixteen or seventeen. Her eyes were covered with a rough blindfold, and her hands were bound in front of her. Dirty blonde hair hung in waves around her head.
"Stay strong, Doveling. No matter what he asks."
Hermione could feel Bellatrix's fear- fear for her- cloak them both. There was no way out of whatever he would ask them to do.
"Tell me, Hermione. Have you ever used an unforgiveable?"
The caressing tone of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She shook her head.
In the corner, Rodolphus sniggered.
"Leave us!" Voldemort snapped, turning angry red eyes to the other man. "Wait in the corridor. You can clean up after."
For some reason that promise made his face light up, and Hermione felt as if she would be sick.
Once the door clicked shut the girl spoke again, "My father has money. He'll give you anything you ask for! Just please don't-"
"Get your wand."
Hermione hurried to obey, and slid her wand from her sleeve. It was a source of warmth in the frigid room, and her fingers curled gratefully around it.
"We'll deal with Imperius this summer," he said, as if promising a special treat. "Let's dive right on in with the Cruciatus Curse. Bellatrix? Surely you've been dying to teach her?"
She didn't realize she was shaking until Bellatrix stepped behind her and put her warm, steady hand around Hermione's wand hand. The girl continued pleading and crying on the floor in front of them.
"You have to mean it," she said low and gentle into the brunette's ear. "The more you mean it the more it will hurt." Mentally she added, "Tune her out, Doveling. Pretend she's a training dummy."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Cru-Crucio!"
The girl let out a shriek as a ball of red light hit her square in the stomach. "Oh!"
"Good!" Praised Voldemort, "Good enough for a first try. Try to make it last a little longer this time. Again!"
Hermione licked her lips, "Crucio!"
The girl let out a scream this time, but stayed upright.
"She's just a meaningless Muggle, Hermione," he said.
"You need to get angry, Dove. Think of something that made you hurt. That made you want to hurt someone."
She couldn't. There was nothing that came to mind.
"Crucio!"
This time when the girl shrieked Voldemort made an impatient sound, "Bellatrix!"
"You have to want to hurt them, Hermione!"
"Please! Please don't hurt me again!" The girl sobbed.
Bellatrix brushed the curls back away from her ear, "You need to get angry, Dove. Find something!"
She thought of her Uncle Albus telling her he rigged the sorting.
"Crucio!"
The girl threw her head back, and let out a real scream.
"Better, but think of something worse."
Using their connection, Bellatrix was remembering instances where Hermione had been truly angry. When Ron had insisted she was a Death Eater-
"Crucio!" The girl fell to her side, and struggled to sit up.
-When Umbridge had punished Draco-
"Crucio!" The girl twitched for a full two seconds.
-When she was a child and Penny Andrews called her a charity case-
"Crucio!" The girl flopped around on the ground, begging her in a high pitched scream to stop. To let her go- to-
"Much Better," he praised. "More."
Bellatrix squeezed her wrist, "Remember when Dumbledore told you that you looked like Ian and Jean?"
Her muggle parents. She opened her mouth to use them, but remembered something else. The fawning way Bellatrix spoke to the Dark Lord, the admiration in her eyes. The way he owned a piece of her soul. The way he'd marked her.
The thoughts mingled in Hermione's mind and she growled out a sharp:
"CRUCIO!"
The girl's back arched off the floor as she opened her mouth in a scream that cut off halfway through. Hermione trained her wand, imagining the girl to be Voldemort, thinking of all the things she would rather do to him if she'd only had the nerve. Did Bellatrix love him more? In that moment it seemed as if she did. And why shouldn't she? When Hermione's own blood was tainted and stained by her muggle parents? The girl writhed in agony, but still Hermione kept on. It was suddenly so easy. She could feel her own hurt and pain feeding the curse, making it stronger and more powerful. For a moment it seemed as if it could go on forever.
And then she realized what she had done.
Her wand hit the floor with a clack, and the girl gasped, rolled over to her side and emptied the contents of her stomach.
A slow clap sounded over the girl. "Very well done," Voldemort praised softly. "I think you have an affinity. Just like Bellatrix."
Hermione was too stunned to process the quiet internal reassurances Bellatrix was offering.
"Pick up your wand. There's one more to learn tonight."
She moved woodenly, knowing exactly which one he was referring to.
"Move aside Bellatrix. No one is better suited to teach this than I."
His cold hand slithered over her shoulder. "Summon that anger again. But this time you don't want to hurt the Muggle. You want to kill it."
She aimed her wand, not caring how badly it shook.
"You know the incantation?"
She nodded, and swallowed. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth.
"A-avada Kedavra."
Nothing happened.
"Take a deep breath," he instructed. His voice was a croon. "Good. Now another. Clear out all other thoughts and focus on the anger that you felt a minute ago."
She could still feel it boiling beneath her skin.
"Pull it up, concentrate it in the center of your magical core, and then kill her."
She tried to do what he said, and this time when she gasped out the incantation a sickly green light shot out and hit the girl. Her body jumped, and she let out a pained rattle.
"Almost. Almost. Now, finish it."
The girl would die anyway, she told herself. Rodolphus had been promised... she certainly didn't want the girl to suffer through whatever he had planned. She took a deep breath and spoke again in a clearer voice-
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green light that shot towards the girl was bright and lively. She knew before the body had fully relaxed that it had worked.
"Bellatrix," he ordered, "Check it."
Bellatrix stooped low over the body and then straightened triumphantly, "Dead! It's dead, my lord."
He clapped her shoulder in congratulations, and she fought hard not to flinch.
"I'm proud of you," he said into her ear.
She felt a strange mixture of revulsion and pride, and managed to give him a shaky smile.
The only thing that kept her upright as she followed him out of that terrible room and back up the stairs was Bellatrix's arm around her middle.
A moment later she was back on the ottoman in the room full of hooded figures, with no recollection of actually getting there. Bellatrix was trying to talk to her, but she seemed incapable of actually processing the words that flowed through their connection.
The Dark Lord said some things, and the room exploded into boisterous applause. One by one the hooded figures came up to congratulate her, but she didn't register anything until a dark figure appeared in the doorway.
The pale face of her uncle Severus swam in her vision, and she blinked to clear it.
As soon as their eyes met she knew that he understood what had happened. His eyes widened with subtle horror, and somehow that made things so much worse.
She didn't remember leaving Riddle Manor. The next thing she knew they were stumbling into her room at Forest Cottage.
"Your mother and brother are still out," Bellatrix groused as she hunted through Hermione's wardrobe for a nightgown. "Hypocrites."
Privately, Hermione was glad. If her mother saw her face she would know in an instant what had happened, just like uncle Sev. She allowed Bellatrix to dress her and tuck her in like a doll, but reached out and grasped her dress when she made to leave.
"Don't go!" she cried hoarsely. "Please Bella, don't leave me alone!"
Bellatrix's worried eyes peered into her own. She stooped, and brushed the hair from Hermione's forehead. "What do you need me to do, Doveling?"
"Hold me?"
A gentle smile curved the plump lips. "I can do that."
The bed rustled as Bellatrix crawled in, "If your mother finds us and murders me I blame you," Bellatrix said teasingly.
Hermione shivered, and continued shivering even when Bellatrix scooted closer and wrapped her in her arms.
"I should have run you a bath," murmured Bellatrix, "you're chilled to the bone."
Hermione swallowed, and pressed back against Bellatrix. "It wouldn't have made a difference." She whispered. She felt like she'd never be clean again. She was stained now. Broken.
But so was Bellatrix. And Bellatrix was the most beautiful person in the whole world.
She twisted in the older witch's hold, moving so that she could face her. She grasped her arm and gently pulled it between them, her fingers tracing over the dark mark that lay emblazoned across the milky skin. She could feel her own hot tears pour over her cheeks to soak the pillow beneath her head.
"I'm sorry." the older witch whispered. "It's never easy… the first time."
But as hard as the first time was, Hermione knew that the next time would be far worse.
XX
I just want to say thank you to you guys for sticking with this story. Your reviews have made my day time and time again. I love them all, and they always brighten up my day. I've been going through a rough patch for the last year, and I wanted you all to know how much I appreciate you.
Lots of love!