It all happened within a second. Maybe less so. When the mild vapor assaulted Hermione's skin, she sprung into action and ran to Bellatrix's side. No care or thought was given to how the other occupants may perceive her actions. Nothing mattered; not her reputation, her sanity, or the possible repercussions of her improvised solution. Anything that could happen next, anything at all, paled in comparison to the consequences she would face if her involvement with Bellatrix was discovered.
Her luck was rarely gracious, that was something she'd grown accustomed to in her childhood. But there were few moments of priceless sympathy that came to her aid whenever she most needed it. Bellatrix hiding her distinctive black curls with a towel was one of those instances. The damp fabric hid her features from the rest, and the muggle close Hermione had lent her swallowed her malnourished body to the point no actual characteristics could be made out. The only problem that remained, then, was her face.
"You have the worst assortment of hair products I've ever seen in my life," said Bellatrix with a straight face, staring straight at Hermione who - in her rush to reach her - was completely avoiding any limitations for personal space that she normally would keep with the Slytherin. "Have you seriously never heard of Sleekeazy's Potion for Scalp Treatment? And why are there so many muggle products?"
The way she'd placed the towel over her hair blocked her peripheral vision, making her unaware of the other occupants. A distant voice in her mind reminded Hermione that it meant her actions would be harder for the witch to understand, and it was likely she would react adversely and reveal her identity. They needed a plan - Hermione seldom worked without one. Time, however, was not on their side. And she was running out of options.
Kingsley clearing his throat sprung her into action. The younger woman launched herself into her accomplice's arms - both palms taking a firm hold of Bellatrix's shoulders to close the gap between their lips. And their mouths met. Roughly, aggressively, and with every hint of desperation Hermione could transmit with her movements.
She could feel Bellatrix's mouth struggling to remain still, trying its hardest to break the contact between their lips. So she pressed harder, maintaining her bruising grip on one shoulder while the other reached for her wand which - thankfully - she was able to use while blocking her actions with their conjoined bodies.
Neither had closed their eyes for the encounter, thought Hermione had - until that very moment - tried her hardest to avoid eye contact with the older woman. Not wanting to face the untamable disgust and hatred likely emanating from the pureblood at the prospect of having to kiss a being she considered to be lesser than her. When her eyes inevitably found the other woman's though, she found none of the emotions she'd feared. Bellatrix's eyes, while still wide with surprise, were slightly narrowed in determination, rather than anger. They peered into the depths of her soul, unwavering in their intensity. And in full confidence that her message would be perceived by Hermione. That which told her that she understood. Even with no context of the situation, and with no idea why Hermione was kissing her, she knew to follow. With little hesitation and full conviction, she adapted to the image the younger woman was trying to project. On all matters pertaining to their mission and survival, they were together, no matter the animosity carried between the two.
It was almost comforting, in a way. And Hermione didn't reject the warm sentiment as much as she imagined she would have.
She watched as Bellatrix's eyes changed to a light green tone, and only then did she dare to break the kiss. The effects Azkaban had left on her body were powerful, the signs of malnutrition and not-entirely-there gaze were impossible to hide even with transfiguration. Though apart from that, Bellatrix - much to Hermione's pride - was unrecognizable. Plump, rosy lips replaced by a thin smile, a flatter nose, softer jawline, and slightly larger eyelids were the features she'd focused on the most for Bellatrix's transformation. Her recognizable black curls had been her biggest concern.
Hermione moved her arms higher through Bellatrix's tensed shoulders, allowing her to rest her head on the woman's neck. "Oh, it's so horrible!" she bemoaned, debating on whether to fake a few sobs or not. The entire situation was enough to make her cry, and the kiss would undoubtedly haunt her every night until her dying breath, but she wanted to make her disbelief realistic and feared her acting skills left much to be desired. That, and her goal wasn't to make the occupants in the room think she was afraid of Bellatrix - they were well aware of her past with her - but rather, to let Bellatrix know of the situation without raising any alarms. "There's an emergency at the Ministry, it's… it's her! Bellatrix! She's escaped!"
Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Hermione, though all she could muster were a couple of pats on the back. It didn't worry her, though. Her tone was convincing enough to make up for her lackluster physical contact. "Lestrange? Bellatrix Lestrange?" she asked, sounding as horrified as Hermione. "Are - are you sure? How could she have escaped?" Only then did Bellatrix dare to take a look at their completely dumbfounded guests, and she bit on her tongue to stop the barrage of insults that were dying to come out of her mouth. She forced herself to ignore Harry's gaping mouth and Rita furiously whispered at her flying quill to focus on Kingsley who, while still surprised, seemed to be the least affected by the couple. "Minister? Is that why you're here?"
It took Kingsley a second to compose himself, in which Bellatrix finally dropped the towel covering her hair to reveal the straight, shoulder-length hairstyle Hermione had given her. "Yes, that would be - have we… met before? I don't think I've ever seen you in the Ministry."
Hermione sniffled, finally taking her head away from Bellatrix's body and pretending to wipe tears from her eyes. "Right, erm, this is Rose. Rose Bennet. She's a Squib -" she could practically feel the daggers Bellatrix was throwing at her with her stare, and Skeeter's quill scribbled faster than ever, "- that's likely why you haven't seen her, and-and she's a dear friend of mine. Rose… well, you've read about the Minister. And that's Harry, who I'm sure you've heard about, and that's-"
"Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet, such a pleasure to make your acquaintance!" The blonde woman strutted closer to Bellatrix, holding a hand out for a shake, which Bellatrix ignored. "A Squib, you say? My, my, Miss Granger you truly are full of surprises. And a woman, too! The entire Wizarding World will be positively mourning when they learn Britain's Most Eligible Bachelorette is off the market. How long have you two been together? Does Weasley know? Was he heartbroken? Was that why he left the Auror's office?"
"Miss Skeeter, please," pleaded Kingsley, oddly reminding Hermione of her Hogwarts professors whenever they had to deal with their students' teenage drama. "I believe you are here to write about the pressing issue of Lestrange's escape. And to get our testaments on the matter for the citizens fearing for their well-being. Not for tabloid gossip."
"Oh, come now, Minister! The people need news like this to get them through these hard times. Though if you'd rather I ask about the Ministry's continuous incompetence and inability to maintain the same person in a high-security facility twice in less than a decade…"
"How did she escape, anyhow?" Hermione asked innocently.
"We're not sure - yet," Kingsley shot the journalist a warning look that did little to deter her. "From what we understand - and are allowed to disclose to the public - she must've had an accomplice. Likely someone within the prison. Our Head Warden reported a shielding charm around Bellatrix that stopped them from inflicting any serious damage, but no one ever saw her casting the spell herself. All of the guards are in the Ministry now, awaiting questioning."
Both Hermione and Bellatrix let out small sighs of relief. They'd gotten many details of the escape right, and they'd initially hoped to trick the Ministry into believing she'd escaped on her own. But as long as they were only suspecting guards, they knew they were far from being discovered.
"What about other Death Eaters?" Asked Skeeter, "Both those in Azkaban as well as the ones the Ministry has neglectfully failed to arrest?"
This time, Hermione spoke up. "I've seen Azkaban with my own eyes," she admitted, "the prisoners there are kept chained and subdued, especially those in high-security cells. They're all too weak to carry out such an escape. As for those on the run, they're likely the ones harboring Bellatrix now, but none had access to the prison. Any spells or potions they might have taken to infiltrate the prison would dispel the moment they passed through the main gates."
"It would be a suicide mission," Bellatrix mused, "Death Eaters fear Azkaban almost as much as they fear You-Know-Who. Bellatrix isn't worth it, even to them."
"Surely, there must be some value in her for them," Rita argued, pathetically trying to hide the fact that she was trying to lure a juicier answer out of Bellatrix. "She was their second in command, and many of them grew up together. Those bonds are hard to break.
"Yes, second-in-comment to an army that hasn't had a leader in years and with disbanded forces," Bellatrix droned. "Growing up with someone means little when it comes to survival. They all had no qualms abandoning the Battle of Hogwarts regardless of their relationship with Bellatrix. Which, by the way, was purely professional. Death Eaters operated with a philosophy of fear that was to be upheld by all those in higher ranks. But if we're holding everyone she grew up with, then you should be in the Ministry for questioning, should you not? You were, if I remember properly, roommates in your youth."
For once, the quill stopped writing, and Skeeter stumbled in her words a bit. "W-Well…yes, we were, but that was years ago and she hated me and how exactly do you know all that?"
Hermione reached for Bellatrix's hand, but only so she could subtly squeeze it to let her know she was perhaps contributing a bit too much to the conversation. The older woman, as expected, ignored Hermione's warnings. "There's an entire section dedicated to her in The Dark Wizard's Encyclopedia. And a dozen unauthorized biographies. Does no one bother to read anymore?"
Harry managed to bring himself back to reality with Bellatrix's comment, and his chuckle brought all eyes in the room to him. "Oh, so that's why you're girlfriends."
"Friends," both Hermione and Bellatrix corrected.
"Right, friends, sorry," Harry said unconvincingly, still snickering. He turned to Rita, "I think you've got what you came here for."
"What?" screeched Skeeter, scandalized, "I haven't even gotten a word from the Boy - Who - Lived!"
"A word. There. That's my official statement."
"Harry," scolded Hermione. "The sooner you say something the sooner she'll leave. Besides, people might indeed feel safer if you have something to tell them."
Harry sighed, defeated. "Don't engage with Bellatrix, call the Ministry if you see anything suspicious, and avoid all unnecessary contact with nosy reporters. That last one is more important than the others."
Skeeter humphed, and her quill stopped writing. "Helpful as always, Potter," she sneered before stepping closer to Bellatrix and handing her a business card. "Don't hesitate to call, dear. There is much I'd like to discuss with you."
She left and took with her some of the tension that made the space so suffocating. Hermione allowed herself to sigh in relief, even with the lingering knowledge that it was likely not the last they'd see of Skeeter and that the Prophet's next publication was bound to be one of the worst of her career. Which, considering everything she'd gone through, and that period when Death Eaters had controlled the newspaper, was quite a feat.
"Bitch," grumbled Bellatrix, eying the card with disdain before ripping it in half and throwing the pieces over her shoulder. "The Prophet, really. Were there no other newspapers to break the news to? Preferably one with competent reporters?"
"They've been informed," answered Kingsley, still eying Bellatrix with a hint of suspicion, "the Prophet was simply the first to respond, and their audience has grown exponentially in the past couple of years. More people will know of the danger Lestrange poses through them than through any other paper."
"Imbeciles, all of them."
"I thought you read the Prophet?" Hermione cut in with a sly smirk, "wouldn't that make you an imbecile too?"
"I read all papers, Her-mi-o-ne," snarked Bellatrix, enunciating every syllable in her name as if she were tasting the word. It was the first time she'd heard her say her name in a non-threatening or sarcastic manner. "Doesn't mean I agree with the rubbish they sell to their more dedicated readers. I'd believe something from the magazine that lunatic friend of yours sells before anything I find in the Prophet."
"You know Luna?" Harry asked.
"I've…uh, spoken about her," said Hermione frantically, wanting to explain the situation before Bellatrix said anything that might contradict their story. Or worse, reveal where she knew Luna from. "About all of you, actually. I've been meaning to introduce her to everyone," she stopped for a second, noticing Harry's willy smile, "not as a friend -" Harry's smile fell, "- but as someone to help us with the case."
"Really?" Questioned Kingsley, moving closer to the two women to inspect Bellatrix with more clarity. "You never mentioned wanting to bring someone in. And I did tell you to keep the case a secret, did I not?"
"Wouldn't want the press to find out, now would we?" Bellatrix muttered. Hermione took a second to scold her before turning her attention back to Kingsley.
"Yes, Minister. And I apologize, but there was no one else I could turn to, especially after being sent home. I needed someone to brainstorm with, and Rose knows more about Bellatrix and Voldemort - " the Slytherin had to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying anything that would show how much she hated people saying the name, "- than anyone I've ever met before."
Kingsley was silent for a moment, far longer than Hermione and the other two people expected. Taking this as a sign of displeasure, Hermione continued speaking.
"I trust her," she said truthfully. "And I know she can help us."
"There will be a meeting in an hour's time," The Minister finally said after another moment of silence, just as long as the first. "Grimmauld Place. The entire Order's been cited. That's another reason why we came here, I… wanted to apologize. I see now that taking you off the case, despite my intentions, was a mistake. I'd - we'd be glad to have you back again, effective immediately. And if you think Miss Bennet might be any help, I trust you. And will vouch for her at the meeting if necessary."
"We need you, 'Mione," said Harry, though Hermione didn't need any convincing.
Hermione accepted, and the two men departed shortly afterward. Only after the front door had been locked did Hermione allow herself to collapse onto the couch. The day's events rapidly catching up with her exhausted body and soul, and she didn't even want to think about how much worse it was going to get at the meeting.
"You made me a Squib," came Bellatrix's hurt voice from her left side, and Hermione felt a small shift of weight as Bellatrix also threw herself into the comfty cushions. Though the hand covering her eyes - both due to exhaustion and to escape from whatever Bellatrix was going to do now that they were alone and she was free to react to what they'd just done (Hermione didn't even dare to think of the word kissing).
"It was the only way I could explain your lack of a wand, and the fact that you can't perform magic," explained Hermione. Though the witch could perform wandless spells, for now, Hermione still fully intended on giving her a potion to ensure she wouldn't be able to cast even the simplest enchantments. "And you could never pass as a muggle so, Squib it is."
Bellatrix let out a loud, childish groan. "And now I'll have to spend hours cooped up with the Order, in Grimmauld Place, no less."
"Would you rather I send you back to Azkaban?"
"...no..." Bellatrix replied, sounding unconvinced. "And will we have to continue pretending to be a couple?"
"We are not pretending to be a couple!"
"You'd rather we become an actual couple, instead?" Bellatrix joked, and Hermione shuddered. "No offense, Her-mi-o-ne, but you're not my type."
"Bellatrix."
"I believe its Rose now, my pet."
Hermione had never been so close to strangling the woman, and she had to take a few deep breaths to contain herself. "We are not a couple, we are friends, and we'll be going to talk about the case - your case - not my relationship status. If you don't tell them anything, I won't tell them anything, and I'm sure Harry will be too preoccupied with the escape of his biggest living enemy to care about me having a friend."
She discovered her assumptions of Harry's priorities were more than incorrect an hour later. When the two witches found themselves in Grimmauld Place and instantly became bombarded by the entire Weasley family, each being questioned by different members.
"When did you meet?" Asked Ginny, who'd yanked her to the side before she'd even finished going past the main door. "How did you meet? Has this been going on for weeks? Months? Years? Why didn't you say anything!"
"Why'd you keep her a secret, 'Mione?" Asked George, trying his best to sound offended while stifling his laughter. "All these years, not knowing how close I was to being a bridesmaid! I hope you don't mind I already paid the strippers for your bachelorettes."
"Leave her alone, George" that was Ron. Hermione, naively, assumed he'd been there to rescue her. And as he separated her from his sister, she even thanked him. Before he opened his mouth to ask "how long have you fancied girls?"
Fleur rushed into the room, seemingly uninterested in whatever the rest of the family seemed to be fussing over, holding a stuffed Hypogriff in one hand and a small blanket in the other. "'az anyone seen Victorie?"
Hermione, eager to focus on something, anything, else, followed the blonde woman as she searched for the toddler. "Fleur, hi!" She said louder than intended. "You…uh, I didn't know you'd brought Victorie to the meeting. How is she, by the way? I haven't seen her in…" truth be told, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen many of the Weasleys since the start of the investigation.
"We wanted to take her to Andromeda's so she could have a playdate with Teddy," Fleur answered, crouching down to look for her daughter under a nearby table, hardly paying Hermione any attention (which she welcomed more than Fleur would ever know). "But Andromeda is 'ere too, and we couldn't find another babysitter on time."
Hermione's blood ran cold. "Andy is here?"
"Of course she is," the veela replied nonchalantly. "Teddy, too," at the sound of high-pitched laughter, Fleur stood up again. "I better go before they break something - oh, and, 'ermione? Congratulations, she is rather pretty."
While not officially in the Order, Kingsley considered Andromeda as a close confidant. And most saw her as a friend. Of course, she would be informed if her sister, the person whom she hated most in the entire world, had escaped from Azkaban. Hermione ran through the house, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to her, as she desperately searched for Bellatrix.
"She'll kill her if she sees her," she thought, harshly scolding herself for forgetting such an important factor. Bellatrix had managed to behave herself, for the time being, but there was no telling how the unstable woman would react if she saw her blood-traitor sister.
She found her in the kitchen, surrounded by Molly, Arthur, and the mountain of food that Molly had hastily brought to the meeting, which Bellatrix was contently munching on.
"Have you tried my lemon pie, dear? Ooh, you'll love it. Arthur, pass her the chicken. You're so skinny! When's the last time you had a proper meal?" Molly, in an inappropriate but motherly manner, placed her hand on Bellatrix's boney shoulder. A gesture Hermione was sure would've driven Bellatrix mad, especially from the woman who'd almost killed her in the Battle of Hogwarts, were that same woman not giving her all the food she could ever ask for.
"I don't eat much," excused Bellatrix, though her words came out as "eurf dawrn eef muh" thanks to the amount of food still in her mouth.
"So… you and Hermione, huh?" Asked Arthur awkwardly. "Have you met her parents?"
Bellatrix was about to answer before Molly pushed a glass of Butterbeer into her hands, which she drank to pass the food in her mouth before she spoke. "The muggles?" She asked, not caring much for anything that didn't involve her Azkaban-induced hunger. "No, why?"
"Oh, I just thought… them being Muggles…and you being from the Muggle world…I've been meaning to talk to them myself, actually. See, there's this amazing new invention I've discovered," he took said invention out of his pocket. "It's a portable phone that can take pictures! Can you imagine that? We've got hundreds of them at the office, I've just never been able to work out how to make the pictures move…" Excitedly, he started showing Bellatrix all the photos he'd taken. Most of them of his family, though the quality was so bad the only way to identify people was by the color of their hair. There were even a handful of them that showed nothing but Arthur's thumb.
"They look like shit," muttered Bellatrix through another mouthful of food. Hermione moved closer, knowing it would be better to diffuse the situation before Bellatrix continued to throw insults. However, before she was able to step in, she felt a delicate tap on her shoulder and a voice that made her freeze in her tracks.
"Fleur said you were looking for me," said Andromeda.
"Andy!" Hermione near-screamed, moving in hopes she would be able to block the woman from Bellatrix's vision if she ever looked in their direction. The older woman held her solemn look, with unkempt hair and puffy eyes she hadn't bothered to cover with the makeup she was usually seen with. Her robes were wrinkled, and her ears, neck, and fingers were devoid of all jewelry save for her wedding ring - which she never took off. "I…" the lies and distraction tactics she'd planned left her mind entirely, and all worries over Bellatrix being found out turned into concern for the woman before her. "I just wanted to say hi…and see how you're doing with…y'know."
The older woman shut her eyes tightly but was able to contain any tears from falling down her swollen cheeks. "Fine," she said curtly. "I finally managed to get Teddy to sleep, so I'm not worried."
"Andy…"
"No, Hermione," interrupted Andromeda. "I know what you're going to say. I've heard it a million times since Kingsley knocked on my door. I don't need to hear it again."
"I just…wanted to say I'm sorry."
"That monster's been… who-knows-what she's been planning. And now she's free? Hermione, I've got Teddy to look after -"
"We can keep you safe!" Cried Hermione, "I promise on my own life, we would never let anything happen to you or Teddy!"
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"We - I thought it was under control. That it didn't matter what happened with Bellatrix as long as she was in Azkaban. You didn't see her, Andy. She was chained, and could barely move, there were times when I don't even think she knew where she was. I thought she wouldn't be able to break out of Azkaban, even with help," it broke her heart to lie to Andromeda, especially in their situation, so she tried to keep her story as truthful as possible. Only leaving out that she'd been the one crazy and horrible enough to break the madwoman out of prison. "I was wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."
Andromeda sighed, looking many years over her age. "I forgive you," she said calmly. "But I want you to promise me one thing."
"Yes," Hermione, relieved now that Andromeda had accepted her apology, neglected to notice the figure walking up behind her. "Anything you say."
"When we find her," she spoke slowly, "I don't want her back in Azkaban. I want her dead."
There was an accusing voice in her mind that told her she shouldn't be as surprised as she was by Andromeda's request. She was a member of the Black family, and while she rejected their pureblood ideals, hints of the family's savagery and thirst for blood remained in every one of its members. Regardless of who they were and how much Hermione cared for them. She'd seen the same hint of bloodlust in Sirius, back when he'd spoken about Pettigrew. Then, she'd attributed it to his time in Azkaban, and even though Andromeda had never stepped close to the prison, Hermione understood her anger just as well. Bellatrix had killed her cousin and only daughter, it was only natural.
"Merlin," Hermione thought, a realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. "She killed her cousin and only daughter. And Dobby. And tortured Neville's parents. And she almost killed Ginny."
"Hermione, are you… alright?" Asked Andromeda, placing a concerned hand on the younger woman's shoulder as her breath quickened.
"She's fine," said Bellatrix, who wrapped her arms around the Gryffindor from behind, successfully moving Andromeda's hand and forcing Hermione's breath to quicken. "This happens sometimes, don't worry, she'll be fine before the meeting," she attempted to move Hermione past her sister, but the woman stood in their path stubbornly.
"You must be the one everybody's been talking about," Andromeda said, unimpressed and with a raised eyebrow. "Hermione's girlfriend."
"We're friends."
"Much more than friends, from what I've heard."
"Is that what people are saying? I wouldn't know, I'm not one to indulge in gossip. Especially in times like these."
Hermione spoke before Andromeda could answer the rather snarky remark. "I'm sorry."
"I - I know you are, Hermione."
"And I promise you; no more Azkaban. This ends with her dead."
Andromeda smiled. Bellatrix, as rudely as she could without giving away her history with her disowned sister, excused the two of them so she could lock herself and Hermione into the nearest bathroom.
Hermione was still hyperventilating, and she brought her hand to her chest as she felt the space around her heart contracting painfully. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and her vision had started to become blurry before Bellatrix threw some water from the sink at her face.
"What's the matter with you?" Bellatrix growled in the quietest voice she could manage. "You're going to get us caught!"
"Fuck you!" Hermione spat out, still trying (and failing) to control her hands and slow her breathing. "I should let us be caught! I should let them kill you and throw me in Azkaban! Don't you see what's going on? Every second I spend here, every second I'm around you, I'm betraying them. And everything we stand for. Everything our friends died for, friends that you murdered!" Her legs no longer supported her, and she crumbled to the floor, sitting with her forehead against her knees and her arms around her legs in the tightest shape she could manage. "I can't do this, Bellatrix - I can't - I can't-"
"Yes you can," said Bellatrix firmly. "Listen to me -" she sat on her knees, now at Hermione's level "- listen to me. Who are you doing this for, me?"
"No," Hermione managed to whisper, weakly.
"For yourself? Did you simply want the glory of being the one to break infamous Bellatrix Lestrange out of prison just so you could catch her again?"
"No!" That one was slightly stronger, as Hermione was almost offended by what Bellatrix was suggesting.
"No, you're not. You're doing this because you and I know there's something bigger, something beyond me, that's caused all of this. Something that, if not controlled, could cause more harm than I ever could. I'm not strong enough to kill anyone here, not without my wand, but whoever has been healing and framing me is. Do you want them to harm your friends?"
"You know the answer to that."
"Do you?"
"Yes!"
"Then act like it," she handed her a glass of water, which Hermione took a couple of sips from. "You feel guilty, I know."
"Guilty is an understatement," she paused, hesitant on whether she wanted to continue speaking to Bellatrix or not. Though the sad reminder that Bellatrix was the only person she could confide in, at least when it came to this, was enough to push her to open up. "I feel like I'm stabbing them in the back. What kind of friend - they're my family, Bellatrix."
"You're not."
"But it feels that way!"
"Then turn me in! Or have that blood-traitor Andromeda kill me, if she's so eager to watch me die."
Hermione, much to Bellatrix's surprise, let out a small chuckle. "She'd like that."
"She wouldn't if she knew why you helped me." Hermione didn't say anything, and they stood in silence for a minute before Bellatrix spoke again. "What I did in the past is not your fault, and your involvement with me is not a reflection of your approval of me. You're doing this for them. To stop someone like me from hurting them again. And you're doing it alone. I know betrayal, and this is not what that is like."
They were silent again, neither rushing to speak. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but serene, despite the company. Bellatrix didn't take her eyes away from Hermione as she pushed her to finish the glass of water. And when she asked for more, Bellatrix obliged without any unnecessary remarks. Slowly, gradually, Hermione's breath went back to normal, and she allowed Bellatrix to help her back up - even going so far as to stabilize her when her legs wobbled under the weight of her body.
"For a Death Eater," Hermione remarked softly, "you're not half-bad at comforting your enemies."
"And you," Bellatrix replied in the same gentle tone, "look dreadful. Wash your face before everyone else sees you and thinks you came face-to-face with Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Har-har," said Hermione sarcastically, though with a genuine smirk, and Bellatrix watched as she ran some cold water over her face before she started turning the doorknob.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready," Hermione answered, and the two exited the bathroom. Together.
