Love's Odyssey in Death's Design
V
"Strangle me?" Hermione huffed with the raise of a single brow, "You can't even stand, can you?"
Despite the bravado that threaded the words her heart was pounding so hard in her chest it was almost painful as she raised her wand and aimed it at the witch lying prone on the ground. Even if Bellatrix did look like a bird whose wings had just been clipped, she was not someone to be underestimated by any means. What Hermione found weird though, barking even, was that while she was standing less than two feet away from a known killer, a twisted sociopath who had tortured her not long ago, the fact of that particular matter was not on the immediate forefront of her mind. No, instead, what the brunette was trying to figure out was how she had managed to Apparate to the raven haired witch's location in the first place. The burning of the cut on her arm, her being compelled to seek out the child she had heard crying, her landing in the middle of nowhere to find an incapacitated Bellatrix Lestrange. None of it made the slightest bit of sense, which for someone who operated on a system of facts and logic was quite frightening.
"So the ickle lion cub does have claws, then. Who'd have thought."
That mocking voice brought Hermione back to the here and now as effectively as a smack to the face, or being submerged in a bath of ice. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, knowing she needed to have all her wits about her, more so than she had ever needed them in life. Though she wielded the upper hand, being armed and all, she knew from experience how cunning and ruthless the Death Eater could be.
"Did you summon me here?"
Despite how crazily impossible even the thought of an affirmative response to the question once posed aloud seemed, said question required an immediate answer, being much higher on the ladder of importance than any other inquiries or methods of interrogation at the moment. Those would come later. Right now she needed to know what sort of dark and perverse magic had altered her Apparation ability to the point that it had been like accidentally touching a Portkey. One could not Apparate without knowing first where they wanted to go and could not successfully achieve the desired feat thereafter without planting the image as clearly as they could in their mind. Destination. Determination. Deliberation. That had been lesson number one. As she had no idea where she was, and why Bellatrix Lestrange was here, she needed some sort of explanation and quickly.
A harsh snort and a laugh that was more of a wheeze than its usual cackle managed to center Hermione's focus once more, and she watched as the dark witch tossed her head back. The action caused her cloak's hood to slip behind her, freeing her curls, and sending a portion of the tangled tendrils to conceal half of her face. There was absolutely no mistaking those features, no not at all.
"Did I do what?" Bellatrix tittered, her voice pitched high, evoking a chill that ran up the column of Hermione's spine, "Don't flatter yourself, you piece of filth. You'd be the last person I would call on in a time of need."
Whatever plague she had been suffering from seemed to be passing as Bellatrix noted the weakness in her limbs evaporating. She could breathe easier, no longer needing to gasp for air, and the urge to vomit had stopped. With the renewal of her strength, she could now face the Mudblood properly and she slowly rose to her full height, glad that the change of position gave her the leverage needed to even out the playing field a little. The girl still had her wand drawn though, but with the experience gathered from over two decades of war, she trusted her ability to get out of the way of any hex or curse that might be thrown at her.
Not that the Mudblood was going to cast a spell. She would have done it already. Bellatrix certainly would have, and had the situation been reversed, the girl would never have made it to her feet.
She smirked at the bushy haired brat, lifting her chin in a display of well practiced arrogance. The girl was beneath her in every capacity of the word and regardless of her being able to see her for who she truly was, Bellatrix was not about to relinquish her pride for one as undeserving of such submissiveness as Harry Potter's beastly little playmate.
But the younger witch didn't falter, the hand holding the wand trembling only slightly, more from the rush of adrenaline that must have been flooding her body and less from fear. The eyes, though, windows to the soul that they were, those murky brown orbs were filled with a terror she could not conceal.
"Don't you take another step," Hermione ordered, the tone meant to be threatening but it was pitched much too high to be so, "Or I - I'll kill you!"
Bellatrix could not help but scoff at the threat that had taken the Mudblood two tries to make, nor did she attempt to stifle the derisive sound, though she did make no further movements towards the other. The gears in her so-called warped mind were already turning, trying to figure out a way to use the girl and that lovely wand she was clutching to her advantage.
"You can try, but I don't think you can," the dark witch retorted with a taunting lilt to the words.
Hermione's brows furrowed as she pondered the meaning behind the statement. Either the Death Eater thought she was too weak to cast an Unforgivable curse or, physically she could not be killed. It would explain how she had somehow managed to still be alive and kicking even after the violent death that had taken her out of the Battle. If it was simply a jibe at Hermione's lack of courage, well, the dark witch would be surprised. If it was the other option, it was too terrifying a thought to even entertain. An immortal Bellatrix Lestrange? The world could never be ready for such a thing.
"What do you mean by that?"
Bellatrix was many things but thick had never been one. She could very clearly see the Mudblood trying to get to the bottom of what appeared to be an incredible scene. There was no way she was going to speak on her Horcrux or the whole falling in love deal. That was out of the question. Such ammunition did not belong in the hands of anyone, especially not her and the bloody Order of the Phoenix who would more than likely involve the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries. And then the fools would coalesce into a mindless lynch mob like a band of Muggle pigmen on a witch hunt.
That could not happen.
"Do it then, kill me."
It might have been taking a gamble, judging by the way the girl's grip on her wand tightened. But then several moments passed and no flash of green came. Of course not. Killing just did not come easy at all to the self righteous sort. They were far too 'by the book', preferring instead to preach sermons on 'what would Dumbledore do?'
"Killing you would be too easy. You deserve to rot in Azkaban for all the things you've done."
"Story of my life, Muddy," Bellatrix waved the biting comment away as if it were a pestilent fly, using the gesture to mask the involuntary shudder that went through her at the mention of that hellish prison, "But there is something you can do, now that I think about it."
"And what, may I ask, might that be?"
There were two somethings the Mudblood could do actually, but all things considered, she looked just as confused to be here in this unknown location as Bellatrix had felt upon her sudden arrival. And the whole summoning thing was a subject best pondered for another time because, at the moment, the raven haired witch couldn't think of no other explanation as to how the girl had found her. Judging by the hospital attire, traipsing along a dark road surrounded on both sides by a thicket of trees and brush at such an ungodly hour had clearly not been on her itinerary. Unless, of course, she had just escaped from the mental ward. But that seemed highly unlikely. And if Bellatrix couldn't figure it out, a sniveling Mudblood certainly couldn't either.
"Take me to my sister's house."
The incredulity that settled upon the brunette's features was as great as if she had been told to take the witch ice skating on the rings of Saturn. Verily, the request had to be some sick joke, so terrible it was practically hilarious.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
Bellatrix sneered wickedly, the light of the moon making her pale features appear almost skeletal. Or demonic. "Because if you don't, your precious goody goody friends will never find your body. You know better than most that I don't need a wand to play when I want, yes?" She took a deliberately slow, menacing step forward, not at all deterred by the wooden implement that trembled slightly in a suddenly unsteady grip, "And, as you can plainly see dearie, I can stand." She tilted her head to one side, the sneer transforming into a smirk, her chilling tone taking on the cadence of a dulcet purr, "So come now, do as Bella asks and she promises she won't peel all that pretty skin right off your bones."
There. That was a proper threat. Laced with just the tiniest edge of the madness she was best known for, eliciting the most delicious spark of fear in the girl that filled the dark witch with glee.
Hermione swallowed, her throat so dry the action made a clicking sound, and she shuffled two paces backward. To her credit, though, she didn't lower her wand even an inch. She could see the seriousness in Bellatrix's bottomless eyes, hear the danger dripping off the words. Merlin only knew what matter of torturous things the witch might do to her before she could even so much as utter an incantation. As small as the Death Eater was in height - about two inches shorter than the brunette without the aide of her heeled dragon hide boots - she made up for it with a physical strength that had been astounding when Hermione had been subjected to it, pinned to a marble floor, completely helpless.
Her mind was already made up.
The decision had not been a difficult one to make at all once she thoroughly weighed her options. If she used a full body bind on Bellatrix and left her there on the side of the road, what was not to say a forest animal wouldn't try to kill her, or a passing vehicle might come through and suppose she was someone in need of help and cart her off to the nearest hospital? And if Hermione was brought to the location by some magical force beyond her comprehension, would she even be able to find it again on her own? It was too much of a risk to take. She could of course take the witch straight away to the Burrow. But Bellatrix was as crafty as she was crazy, and if she somehow managed to get her hands on Hermione's wand she could murder the entire Weasley family in just a few unapologetic flashes of green. Honestly speaking, Bellatrix was a frighteningly brilliant duelist, third only to Dumbledore and Voldemort, from what she had seen. The only reason Mrs. Weasley had even been able to defeat her in the first place was because her arrogance had distracted her. And Hermione had a feeling that if it came down to it, Bellatrix would not make the same mistake again. No, it was best to make the Death Eater believe she was going along with the plan. Right, if she side-along Apparated Bellatrix to Malfoy Manor, Hermione would know exactly where the witch was, would then be able to alert the Order, and lead them directly to her. It was definitely the better option. The Malfoys were under special watch by the Ministry as it was and if the Aurors acted quickly enough, the dark witch would not have time to disappear somewhere else. Strangely though, the brunette mentally noted, Bellatrix did not seem particularly interested in fleeing or evading capture. She had been on the bloody Knight Bus for Merlin's sake, hardly a method of travel for someone wishing to keep a low profile.
She did not dwell on the thought though.
"Fine," Hermione said through clenched teeth, thoroughly unnerved by the thought of being in close proximity to such a horrid and despicable person despite her decision,"I'll take you."
Narcissa Malfoy stood before the large window in the drawing room of her husband's ancestral home, surveying the dark, cloudless sky. The moon illuminated the immaculately kept grounds, the large expanse of greenery with its mighty oaks and shrubbery swathed with bursts of fresh leaves and bloom. Despite nature's evidence of new beginnings and warmth, the blonde felt cold and bare inside, her heart, desolate. As if she had been recently exposed to a horde of Dementors and had not been able to consume any chocolate afterward. In truth, what she had experienced was worse than any of the abhorrent guards of Azkaban could ever be. Her home had been, for the past year up until two weeks ago, the official headquarters of the Dark Lord and all of his lieutenants, the most evil and ruthless of the Death Eaters. They had ravaged the place where she had once felt safe and content like beasts, leaving behind nothing but darkness and a chill that no fire could warm.
In the end, she supposed her actions, by some, might be considered cowardly. But when Harry Potter had jumped out of the arms of that half giant groundskeeper and the side of the light had exploded in cheers of triumph and victory, Narcissa knew that all was lost. She, her husband, and their son had fled from Hogwarts with no interest in continuing the fight, their only concern being their own lives. She was not there when the Dark Lord had fallen. She was not there when her sister had died.
It seemed surreal, the loss of her eldest sister. For as long as she had been on this earth, Bellatrix had been a constant fixture in her life. Even when she had been sentenced to Azkaban, she was still there. For her to be gone, well, Narcissa imagined it would take some time to get used to. What she still had was her life and her freedom.
The same could not be said for her husband.
The Malfoys had been granted only two days reprieve after the official end of the war before Lucius had been captured by Ministry officials. Both of them had known such would happen but the knowledge of it had done little to dull the pain. And Draco, her darling little dragon, was like a living ghost. She barely saw him as he stayed locked in his room for most of the day. He was hardly eating and could not be persuaded to take more than a few bites of even his favorite foods. He rarely spoke. To the point where Narcissa was beginning to forget what her son's voice sounded like.
Nothing good ever came from war. That was an undeniably truth. No matter which side one was on, the cost of the outcome was much too great to simply be considered a win or a loss. This was not a Quidditch match. This was death and destruction and anguish. And Narcissa was sure she would have felt the same way had it been the Dark Lord who had emerged victorious. She had lost her fervor for the cause the moment her child had been recruited into the madness.
The Lady Malfoy resigned herself to yet another sleepless night. Ever since Lucius had been taken, she found she could not return to their marital bed. She could not bear the way the sight of his belongings and his lingering scent evoked heartbreaking memories. Their marriage had been one built on the foundation of love. Not many purebloods had had that luxury. She felt lost without him and she ached with the nostalgia of those precious, peaceful years following the Dark Lord's disappearance on that fateful Halloween night so long ago. The peace and contentment had lasted three years and a decade, until its death knell had sounded during the summer of 1994. After the Quidditch World Cup, nothing had ever been the same. And it probably never would.
Sighing softly, Narcissa turned away from the window. It was after three in the morning. Part of her hoped that Draco might still be awake and if she would be able to convince him to have a cup of tea with her. They did not have to talk, if he didn't want to. She just longed for some company, the shroud of loneliness making her feel like a stranger within the walls of her own home. Perhaps, if he refused, she would talk to one of the portraits.
Her foot had just landed on the bottom step of the grand staircase when a series of loud, banging knocks at the front door cut through the heavy quiet. Gasping, the blonde witch whirled around, startled and shocked down to her core that someone would have the audacity to trespass on her property at this time of the night. Whoever it was, they had certainly not been invited and she doubted the obviously crazed individual would be bringing any sort of good news.
Drawing her wand from its holster at her hip, Narcissa slowly approached the door as the knocking fervently continued. Whoever was on the other side seemed desperate to enter and the blonde steeled herself to the thought that if it came down to it, she would have to protect herself and her son by any means necessary. With no hesitation, she wrenched the door open, her wand aimed at the head of the hooded individual who stood upon the stone landing.
"Reveal yourself," she demanded sharply, her tone cold as ice, not wavering in the slightest.
The hood was peeled back and the stranger stepped forward, the light from the manor's interior exposing a feminine face. Narcissa did not recognize the witch at all, was sure they had never been properly introduced or acquainted. Her features were an odd combination - the hair voluminous, though neither curly nor straight, too dark to be considered brown, too light to be considered black, the facial structure not quite plain but not particularly beautiful. The eye color was a strange shade too, like dark chocolate mixed with licorice. There was no familiarity in Narcissa's gaze as she regarded the unknown witch and she sniffed with disdain upon taking in the sight of a cloak soiled with dirt and dry leaves.
"You are not welcome here. Leave my property at once."
"Cissy, for Salazar's sake, lower your wand. It's me. Bella."
Author's Note: Now of course, you all know it can't be that simple for Bella and 'Mione to fall for each other. That wouldn't be too realistic, now would it? Not even in the world of fan fiction. Our girls still have a bit of a ways to go, but so long as you guys are down for the ride? I'm good. And as always, loads of thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I love reading your thoughts on the story, so please keep those coming! Until next time my lovelies -bellanoire, over and out!,