Hermione prides herself on her suspicious nature. She thinks it makes her better prepared for the unknown, more vigilant. Now, however, sitting on a bed in the middle of an organized mess, she wonders how she missed this. This connection that, after literally being thrown on her lap, was now undeniable, unmistakeable. Of course this would happen, she though. The first real crush Hermione ever gets just had to be on the most unattainable woman on earth. Not only was she leagues ahead in terms of knowledge and beauty, but she was also a professor, and—the cherry on top— the estranged sister to a woman she has come to see as her mother. Andromeda took her in her darkest hour and has never let her down since. The family she welcomed her into were the source of her calm and her happiness; Andromeda, Tonks, Ted, and the house elves—hell, even the cat had become her family too.
But despite everything she had discovered in the past fifteen minutes, she still found her mind was hopelessly occupied with Bellatrix Black. She wanted desperately to forget that her heart did olympic-level feats of gymnastics whenever Bellatrix Black walked into a room. She yearned to burn the memory of bumping into her in the hall one September morning and accidentally grazing her hand across her waist. Hermione wanted all of these things, but what she actually did was take out the picture she found of Bellatrix and Andromeda in their youth, and focus on her. On some level, she always knew it was hopeless; she was a professor, there was an age difference. But these plain, impersonal facts did not account for the feeling of familiarity that blossomed in Hermione's chest when she first encountered the older witch at Hogwarts.
Bellatrix Black returned to her position as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts after a lengthy sabbatical leave. Hermione was already a third year. She remembered, quiet clearly, arriving to class 15 minutes early—15 minutes late in her book—and nearly jumping out of her skin at the sight of that supremely postured witch sitting at her desk, staring at her lap. For her part, Bellatrix seemed more bemused than annoyed at the early arrival. She merely looked at Hermione for a moment before looking back down; Hermione could see now that she had a book open on her lap. Eyes moving across the page as if they did not truly care for what was written on them, she spoke,
"You're early. Grab a seat and be quiet."
Hermione did as she was told. Her blunt words and curt demeanor did not offend her. On the contrary, after only meeting this woman a few minutes ago, Hermione felt safe. That wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to, then. That fateful morning started a routine that continued to this day—and will end now that I know what I know, Hermione hastily reminded herself. Even if there was nothing technically, biologically incestuous about it, there was a history between Andromeda and Bellatrix; a battle had been fought, a line drawn, and Hermione vowed silently to stick to her side, no matter what. Why did that phrase evoke such nostalgia in her?
A beat passed in silence, Hermione tilted her head up to stare at the ceiling, as if that would help the gnawing feeling at the back of her head. Somehow, it did, as she suddenly remembered and snapped her head forward in her surprise - No Matter What was the book she had been reading, or, rather, had been pretending to read on that first day.
Hermione remembered walking in to class one Monday morning, ready to carry out their ritual of silent acknowledgement, when Bellatrix's sigh perforated the atmosphere. From that sigh sprung an explanation, and then a twelve minute tirade on why the subject of the conservation of matter through magic should not be cheapened with a romantic sub-plot. They were the best twelve minutes of Hermione's life. And then they were over, and Hermione found herself replying before her mind could comprehend what that infernal tongue of hers was shaping into speech.
"If you think about it, the general concept of conservation is necessarily tied to humans and our love lives. Really, the science is a sub-plot of the romance, because what is the point of stating that matter is forever the same in this world through our magic if our magic did not keep remnants of those we love close to us?" Bellatrix frowned, took her feet off from where they were perched on her desk, and leaned over in her chair.
"Clarify," she ordered.
"Well, you've probably read Schillfuer's theory that our magic has a propensity of identify to us those we love, or those who we will come to love. His famous examples include the incident of the robbery gone wrong at Gringotts, where one of the bank tellers felt that familiar tug to one of the robbers—who turned out to be his lover under the guise of a polyjuice potion. Well, and this is, I guess, my own theory, why couldn't that apply to matter across the board? I mean, when we die, it's not like our magic just disappears; it is returned to the universe. So, it is plausible that one could feel that telltale familiar tug to, say, a tree—it could be the case that this tree germinated with the magic released from a deceased loved one, and that very magic recognized the magic within oneself…have I lost you?" Hermione trailed off, venturing down from the high of being able to discuss experimental theory and noticing the expression on her professor's face.
"Perhaps not. Correct me if I am wrong, but you seem to be arguing that our magic conserves matter, not to keep the universe in order, but to keep our loved-ones near?" Bellatrix half-asked, half stated.
"Correct."
"That is the most half-baked, backwards, irresponsible theory—you're basically saying that the universe itself is a self-propagating, continuous love story…" she lost her steam midway, replaced it with a thoughtful look
"…And?" Hermione ventured to ask.
"And," She paced back and forth, turning suddenly to face Hermione she said, "I think
you're onto something."
Something changed in their relationship that day. Not overtly, of course—they still observed formalities and kept a respectable distance from each other. But as they continued to test theories now and again, Hermione felt safe enough to disclose one day, in her fourth year, her best kept secret.
"You're kidding me," Bellatrix said. Hermione could tell the older woman was trying to keep from laughing outright. She was failing. Finally letting out a strangled, wet gasp, tears fell from her eyes as she doubled over in laughter.
"Your middle name is—" Bellatrix was interrupt by another fit of undignified snorting that devolved into breathless gasping, "your middle name is Atthis?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, for the umpteenth time.
"And—and that makes your initials—" another break as she struggled for breath "Your initials are H-A-G!"
"Yes, hilarious I know," Hermione replied "This is why I usually tell people that it's Jean".
"Merlin your parents certainly have a sense of humor" Bellatrix said, apparently recovered from her fit of breathless giggling. For a minute she actually had Hermione worried—she sounded absolutely mental when she laughed like that. But at the mention of her parents, Hermione suddenly grew quiet. If Bellatrix sensed the change in Hermione, she didn't comment on it. That was another thing Hermione appreciated about Bellatrix; she knew when not to pursue a topic.
Hermione was startled out of her memories by the sound of a commotion down stairs. Gently extracting herself from the mess of pictures and letters on the bed, she made her way to the door and down the stairs. Halfway down, she saw the cause of all the noise. And she stopped dead in her tracks. In the foyer stood Andromeda and Tonks, their backs to her as they faced the two figures in front of them. The figures still wore their traveling cloaks with the hood pulled up—it had started to rain some time ago, judging by the droplets of rain that clung to the hood. But Hermione knew, even before the hood came down, that it was Bellatrix. The one on the left at least. She still had no idea who the figure on the right could be. Still halfway down the stairs, Hermione considered going back up to the room and waiting this out—whatever it was. As she moved to turn and go back up the stairs, however, the figure on the right caught the motion and looked at her with a razor sharp, icy blue glare. She removed her hood as she remained staring at Hermione.
"Dro—terribly sorry to interrupt the silent death glare you've been giving us for the past ten minutes, but who is this?" The woman with the coldest blue eyes asked, gesturing to Hermione with a jut of her chin. Her words, though cool and polite, dripped with a haughty sentiment; she might as well have asked why this girl of unknown origins had the audacity to breathe in the same general area as her.
Swiveling around, Andromeda finally saw Hermione standing there, hovering as if unsure of herself. She briefly caught Hermione's eyes with her own and held them for a fractional moment before turning back to say, "This is Hermione Granger, she is a part of this family, and if you really wish to reconnect like you claim, you will accept her as your own. Or else."
Tonks looked over her mother's shoulders and winked at her. She was confused for a moment, and then Tonks tipped her head towards Bellatrix and kept winking maniacally. Oh Merlin.
"Or else?" The imposing figure on the right asked, still somehow expressing a sense of her own superiority.
"Or else you and Bella can leave and never come back, Narcissa," Andromeda replied evenly.
So this was the third sister, Hermione surmised. She chanced another glance at her on her descent down the stairs; sure enough, she was already looking at her, looking at her as if she knew exactly what was going on in her mind. Sometimes, Hermione wondered if she really knew—was that a smile she caught on her lips just now? There was a twinkle in her eyes; a barely hidden glee, even in this tense, emotionally charged atmosphere. Finally, Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and stood slightly behind Andromeda, who was waging a staring contest with Narcissa.
It looked as if Narcissa were about to reply with something sharp or snarky, but a combination of a nudge and a glare from Bellatrix stopped her short. Instead, Bellatrix spoke for the both of them,
"If Hermione is your family, then she's ours too," Out of the corner of her vision, she eyed Narcissa, "right Cissy?" Narcissa gave a tight nod at this, though she did not look too pleased. To be fair, it could've been the nickname Bellatrix chose for her that put her in a bad mood. "We came to make amends, 'Dro" Bellatrix added softly, looking more vulnerable than she'd ever thought possible.
Andromeda was quiet for a moment, Tonks wrapped her arm around her mother's waist for support. There was a pregnant pause, a moment suspended where the five witches simply stood staring at one another in the foyer. Then Andromeda spoke, her voice lifting the veil of silence that had settled around them, "After almost two decades of silence—of no contact—it's true, Father sanctioned that rule, but you all, my sisters, my best friends— you adhered to it," Narcissa looked as if she were about to say something to the contrary but Andromeda cast a look her way and continued on , "Why now? After all these years? Why tonight specifically?"
"I'd like to know that too," Narcissa said, surprising everyone "this was all Bella's idea—a good one, in theory. Perhaps a bit poor in execution."
Bellatrix shot her an unreadable look before addressing Andromeda, "I'd love to explain," she paused dramatically, making a show of sniffing the air and patting her stomach, "over dinner though, hm? I'm positively starved, darling."
Andromeda looked uncertain. She turned to her daughter, who nodded her acceptance to her. Then she turned to Hermione, who had her eyes glued to Bellatrix. Interesting, Andromeda thought, filing that observation for later analysis. "Hermione?" She called to get the young witch's attention. Hazel eyes finally found hers, and she smiled before stating, "it's up to you."
Suddenly finding herself at the center of attention, Hermione froze. This many eyes on her wouldn't normally faze the young witch, but she could feel a particular set - those wild brown eyes- burrowing into her soul. She started to speak but stuttered and tried to start over. Taking a deep breath, she focused her eyes on Narcissa's instead—there was no way of fooling herself about any warmth in them, at least. She finally managed to say "Yes, yes of course."
The evening went as well as expected, which was not at all. As the large group of witches awkwardly made their way from the foyer to the living room, Ted popped in from the kitchen with his apron. Narcissa immediately took her coat off and placed it on Ted's arms, which were outstretched in order to greet his sister-in-laws. He stood, baffled for a moment, then said,
"Narcissa, I'm flattered, but I don't think this is my style."
Narcissa looked astounded and turned to Andromeda accusingly, "Is this how all your servants treat honored guests?"
Andromeda, without looking up from the trolley where she was pouring herself a two finger glass fire whiskey said, "That's my husband, Ted."
Narcissa stood silent for a moment, then took her seat on the couch next to Bellatrix and said airily, "Well, Ted," she said his name like one might say tapeworm or malignant tumor, "be a dear and put that away for me—and do be careful, it's worth more than—"
Whatever she was about to say next never came out, as she appear to be choking on air. A few seconds later she released a gasp and greedily inhaled fresh air, shooting a glare at Bellatrix , "It's just very expensive, is all."
Ted, in his good nature, accepted this statement and went to put her coat away. Tonks, on the other hand, quipped, "One would think that someone so wealthy wouldn't be concerned about a silly coat. I mean, if you're so bloody rich, why don't ya just buy a new one?"
Narcissa didn't have a chance to reply, Bellatrix interjected quickly, "Cissa is just sentimental; she loves that coat more than she loves her own son, I'd say."
"Draco always comes first," Narcissa said haughtily, then added, "The coat is a close second, however."
"Well, at least you learned how to put someone before yourself in my absence,"
Andromeda said dryly, swirling the amber liquid around in her crystal glass. Hermione once again felt like an intruder to a private family drama. Chancing a glance at Tonks, she found the older witch already looking at her, as if to say yeah, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you. That was some solace, at least. But Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she did not belong here, in this room, watching this stew of repressed feelings bubble over. She racked her brain for an excuse to go back upstairs and possibly even skip dinner entirely. As she opened her mouth to speak, Bellatrix foiled her plans,
"Hermione—I hope I can address you by your first name now that we're not at school—you are quiet an unexpected addition," She began, innocently enough; but there was a gleam in her eyes that Hermione knew meant trouble, "Not an unpleasant surprise, of course, I just wonder why you never mentioned that you live with my estranged sister in any of our…conversations." The amount of innuendo Bellatrix added to that last word made Hermione blush and look away, even though there was nothing to be hinted at. They never crossed any boundaries; but when Bellatrix said conversation like anyone else would say sex marathon, she almost wished they had.
Finding her voice somewhere next to her intestinal tract, Hermione braved the reply "Well, even if I had known — Andromeda," she glanced at the witch in question with a wry half smile, "was your sister, you just said yourself that you're estranged. I think it would be an inappropriate topic for a student to discuss with a professor." Bellatrix crossed her arms and looked at Hermione critically,
"So you didn't register that we look exactly alike? What is that muggle phrase you used once, a 'carton copy' of each other?" Hermione wanted to laugh despite the absurdity of the situation.
"A carbon copy," she corrected gently, the beginning of a genuine smile on her face.
The other witches in the room watched this exchange in silent confusion. While Hermione and Bellatrix continued to stare at each other, Andromeda said,
"I didn't know you had resumed your position at the school."
Narcissa chimed "Me neither…I wonder why Draco wouldn't tell me. You didn't put him under an imperius spell did you?" She looked at Bellatrix's face closely for a moment and then gasped, "You did! How could you! To meddle with my son's mental state! Your own blood?"
"Calm down Cissy," Bellatrix drawled, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, "I didn't hurt him—he asked me to, so we could have a more private relationship."
Narcissa looked outraged, even more so when Bellatrix added, "You watch the poor boy like a hawk, he just wanted someone he could be open and honest with and not have to divulge every detail to you." Turning to address Andromeda directly, Bellatrix spared no further thought to Narcissa as she answered, "Yes, I returned two years ago."
"After I graduated." Tonks said evenly.
"That is correct."
"Why?" the younger witch asked. Hermione thought she detected a sense of rejection, a hurt that, if pressed, the witch would never admit to feeling.
Looking at her only niece, Bellatrix squared her shoulders and said, "To protect you." glancing around the room, she met everyone's eyes, one pair at a time. She lingered on Hermione's the longest, or at least Hermione thought she did. Time tended to escape her whenever the older witch looked at her.
"There is something going on under the surface of this society," Bellatrix continued seriously. Hermione felt like she was back in class—like she should taking notes. "Something is stirring, that, if fully realized, will tear us all apart. That's why it had to be today".
"I don't know if you are aware of this, Bellatrix" Andromeda said carefully, "but we've already been torn apart—by you, and your ideals." The room fell silent after that. In the moments that followed, Hermione though she could hear the decades of pain and loneliness the three sisters suffered at their own hands.
Ted popped back into the living room in a disjunctively cheerful manner, announcing that dinner was ready. "There's enough for everyone!" He said proudly, adding, "Provided no one wants seconds."
