AN: Lyrics are from Listen to the Rain by Evanescence. Don't forget to review; every one of them makes my day.
-Ophelia
Hurry, they say, for you haven't much time
Open your eyes to the love around you
You may feel you're alone
But I'm here still with you
Panic and worry consumed Hermione as she rushed into the Great Hall. She had only seen Andromeda a handful of times, conversing with her daughter or other members of the Order. She was often harassed for her relation to her notorious sisters, however, and the Gryffindor was not surprised to spot her sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table. Passing students seemed to walk faster when they saw her, as though her grief was contagious. She approached cautiously, not entirely sure how she would react.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Andromeda? Mrs. Tonks?" She looked up slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. They looked odd on her otherwise composed face, her aristocratic features startlingly similar to those of her sisters and cousin. A product of the inbreeding within the Black family, no doubt. She stared at her as though seeing through her, a defeated woman who had won the war but lost everything of value to her. "I- I need your help."
She closed her eyes as though in pain. Her words came as a whisper. "She escaped, didn't she? Bella. My Bella. My sister. No walls can hold her. She's unstoppable. I used to admire that in her." She took a deep, shuddering breath and Hermione felt another burst of impatient energy. What was she doing waiting for this wretched woman to speak? She needed to find her, she was dying, she needed her, needed her Hermione. She was wasting time here, precious time, seconds of a fading life ticking away... The Gryffindor bounced up and down impatiently and Andromeda looked knowingly at her. She seemed almost pitying.
"She's done something to you, hasn't she? Why would you care if she's gone? I know about the poison and I'm not looking for her." Outraged, Hermione started to speak but was cut off. "Don't waste your time. She isn't worth saving."
"But she's DYING!" she screamed, unable to hold herself back anymore. Why didn't she understand? "Surely you know where she is, you're her sister," she implored. Andromeda laughed, a humorless and deranged sound, and in that moment she looked and sounded so much like her sister that nearby students fled. Or was it at Hermione's scream? It didn't matter, nothing mattered, only finding Bellatrix and protecting her.
"I am well aware of that, Hermione Granger. Had this happened just two days ago I would have gladly jumped up and helped you look. Even more, I would have found her within minutes. Of course I know where she is, she's in her old secret spot from when we were here. She used to go there to be by herself, to hide from the school. But I won't tell you where that is. I want her to die. I want her to pay for what she's done to me and my family." She covered her face in her hands to stifle a fresh sob. "She killed her. She killed my Dora, my baby girl. How could she, Hermione? How could my Bella hurt my baby? I loved them both. How could she?"
Moved by her tears, the Gryffindor wanted to reach out and do something to calm her: hug her, pat her hand, make her a cup of tea, anything. As soon as Hermione moved to sit down she was reminded, as though someone shouted to her, that she needed to help Bellatrix first. Nothing was more important. "Maybe, maybe she didn't mean to hit Tonks," she tried, inventing wildly, shoving down her own grief at the death of her friend. "Maybe she was aiming at someone else and missed. Maybe, maybe someone was trying to hurt her and she tried to stop them but they moved." Andromeda looked up again, staring while tears poured silently down her face. Even in her misery she was graceful. Hermione continued, desperate and nonsensical. "We'll never know unless someone asks her. I need to find her. Please, tell me where she is."
"That is nonsense, Hermione, and you know it." She sighed. "I can't even tell you to talk to Cissy, she's already gone," she muttered to herself. Hermione waited, knowing that every moment wasted was a moment that she couldn't spend helping the wounded Death Eater. Andromeda leaned closer, peering carefully at her. "You didn't answer my question. Why do you care?"
Hermione stared at her, unable to answer. She didn't want to be the one to kill Bellatrix, nor did she want the Order to hurt her again, but why was she panicking so much over her? A sense of dread filled her, not dread that something bad would happen to Bellatrix but that something bad had already happened to her, Hermione. No sooner than she had begun to contemplate this did she suddenly imagine that frail body chained to the wall, broken and bleeding. The urge to protect overpowered her again. Andromeda shook her head. "She did something to make you do this. You should not care for her this much." Hermione was filled with a sudden rage at her words; how dare she question her? She turned and began to storm off in fury, seeking her poor lost witch herself, when Andromeda called out to her.
"Hermione? How well do you know the Forbidden Forest? There is a small alcove where two rocks lean against each other to the left of the main trail, shortly after you go far enough in to lose sight of the castle. You should be able to reach it in about ten minutes. If she isn't there then she is already dead. Talk to her. Ask about Dora. Then let me know what happened." Hermione blurted out a hurried thank you and rushed out, wishing she could Apparate on Hogwarts grounds just this once.
Her previous experiences with the Forbidden Forest have not been pleasant ones, but the desperate Gryffindor did not hesitate once she reached the end of the ancient wood. She plunged through the trees, searching desperately, knowing in the back of her mind that she was being far too noisy for her own good. Every twig snapping or leaf rustling could be the one to signal the arrival of some savage creature, a brutal and bloody death under the canopy of the forest. What if something found Bellatrix when she was already badly wounded? Hermione began to run, filled with terror at the thought. I must find you, I must help you. I cannot lose you, you are so precious.
With all of her frantic flailing it took nearly twenty minutes to find the place Andromeda described. Hermione stood, panting heavily, at the opening of a small shelter between the mossy rocks, desperately calling her name. "Bellatrix? Are you there? I'm here to help you." An anxious moment passed, then another, before she emerged from the darkened refuge. She seemed wary but limped towards Hermione, covered in dried blood but holding her wand high. Her hand shook as though just that small effort was too much, but her face was set in a snarl; whether of pain or in warning one could not tell. Clumsy bandages of tattered black fabric – evidently torn from the hem of her skirt, which was noticeably shorter and more ragged in the front than in the back - encircled her thin waist and mangled wrists, an attempt to bind the broken ribs and stem the bleeding. She had most likely tried and failed to heal herself with magic and had been forced to resort to Muggle measures, which also failed. However, despite that, she was blessedly, mercifully alive.
"How did you find me, Mudblood? What are you doing here?" She lowered the wand slightly, either deciding that the witch before her was not a threat or simply lacking the energy to keep her arm up any longer.
"I needed to find you. I needed to help you. You're dying…" Hermione trailed off, vaguely embarrassed at the words that fell so easily from her lips. She didn't have to think about them, the phrase she had been repeating to herself since she woke up. Bellatrix laughed, somehow delighted even in her ragged state.
"So, it worked then. How very strange." She looked at her confused face and laughed again. "When you fell asleep, dear Mudblood, I took my wand back and broke my chains, then left the room. There was a girl in the corridor who saw me but I Stunned her. She had a love potion on her, the desperate fool, and I decided to have a bit of fun. I took the potion, put my hair in it, and gave it to you. But before I did that I added some crushed scarab beetle that I had in my pocket - don't look at me like that, everyone ought to keep potion ingredients with them for cases like these – which altered the potion just a bit. It changes the feelings of lust to an urge to protect, although there is still a certain force of attraction given to the drinker. I wanted to see if you would come looking for me, and you did. I'm glad. You see, girl, I'm having trouble healing myself."
She made to hand the wand to Hermione, who had been too mesmerized by the movement of those ruby lips to fully take in what she had been saying. How had she not noticed that before, how very appealing that particular shade of red was? And her hair, matted with dirt and blood as it was, looked so very soft… Hermione wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it, or to brush away that stubborn strand that always fell in front of her eye. Her eyes, her dark eyes that always seemed to pierce right through her, cutting away the fragile façade of humanity to see life as it truly presented itself. How could anyone think her mad, this ever-observant, brilliant, beautiful witch? Oh, those lips again…
A slap across the cheek startled Hermione back into focus, where she saw Bellatrix glaring at her, still holding out the wand. She blushed and refused to meet her eyes as she accepted it. "Sorry, it's been a long day…" she muttered, bringing a hand to her stinging cheek without really noticing the pain.
"Well? The potion should make you want to help me. Get to it." Hermione raised the wand, suddenly unsure. What if I mess up and hurt you even more? She had read all about numerous healing spells, of course, but even travelling with Harry and Ron had not brought about many occasions to practice them; especially not on wounds as dire as those that the Order had inflicted on Bellatrix. The Death Eater saw her hesitation and misinterpreted it. "What's wrong, muddy one? Need a bit more persuasion?" Those words would have filled the young Gryffindor with terror a mere couple of days ago, but a much better idea had occurred to her.
"Yes, I do," she replied, speaking quickly before her embarrassment could catch up to her actions and make her stumble over her words. "I'll heal you if you kiss me afterwards." The older witch's eyes widened at her uncharacteristic boldness, but then she smirked.
"It was a love potion, after all, what did I expect? Very well, but only if you do a good job." She licked her lips, as if to emphasize the reward to come, and Hermione was indeed motivated. Inexperienced as she was, it took over half an hour to mend all of the injuries; heal the bruises and broken bones, knit the skin and flesh together, and wash the crusted blood away. At last, she had finished and Bellatrix stretched, enjoying the feeling of well-being. She smiled, revealing rotten teeth with some missing, reminding the Gryffindor that there was still work to do. The command to heal overpowered her in a frenzy and she pointed the wand at her face. Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm as she quickly made to snatch the weapon away. "What are you-" Her words were cut off by a yelp of pain as the empty spaces were suddenly filled with brand new teeth, white and straight. She felt them cautiously with her tongue, and then smiled again, having ascertained that nothing was amiss. Hermione groaned at the mismatched grin.
"Now your teeth are different colors. Hold still, let me fix that." Bellatrix frowned.
"That's quite enough, Mudblood. I told you to heal me and you did, I don't care how it all looks. Why would it bother you that much anyway?" The Gryffindor shook her head.
"My parents are dentists. That's like Healers specifically your teeth," she added in response to the Pureblood's raised eyebrow. "I'm very, very nitpicky about teeth." Bellatrix laughed scornfully and opened her mouth to reply, and Hermione saw her opening and quickly shot a charm at the offending teeth. The Death Eater scrunched up her face in annoyance.
"There, you happy now?" she demanded, holding up her hands to stop the young witch from doing anything else. When it was clear that Hermione would not make any more attempts to alter her appearance, she flopped unceremoniously down onto the ground and closed her eyes as if to relax. Hermione hesitantly sat down as well, sweeping away the small branches and rocks that littered the earth, which did not seem to bother the other witch in the slightest. She was healed at last, good as new. Her pearly teeth erased several years from her appearance. It was plain that there will be no way to make her look like Azkaban never happened, but every small bit helped. The potion gave Hermione a little nudge, reminding her of the conditions of the healing. Her eyes were drawn yet again to the woman's lips, and her skeletal frame and unwashed hair did not seem to diminish what she was certain was a radiant appearance.
"I've healed you, just as you said. Can- can I get that kiss now?" Her words came out timid and unsure, her gaze sweeping downwards and away from the magnificent woman before her. Her submissiveness surprised her, but just the small part of her brain not influenced by the potion. She cringed away from the older witch while straining closer, itching to close the distance between them but scared to approach without permission.
Bellatrix laughed yet again, a far more pleasant sound than those that had preceded it. "My, what an interesting potion indeed. Complete compliance from such a dominant spirit. Very well, girl, come here. You've done well enough, I suppose." She held out her arms and Hermione crawled across the ground at once, curling up in her embrace. She pressed those tantalizing lips briefly to Hermione's forehead before pulling away. "There. There's your kiss."
Her forehead burned where she touched it and for a moment, she was sated. Then the potion demanded more contact, ever more, and anger flared in the pit of Hermione's stomach. "That isn't what I had in mind," she told her, pouting like a child. Another laugh sounded and echoed throughout the small cave, a symphony of Bellatrixes cackling madly.
"I know it isn't, Mudblood. You wanted me to snog you like two students in a broom closet," she jeered. She leaned back, examining the Gryffindor lazily. Hermione flushed slightly as she saw the predatory gaze linger appreciatively on her breasts but held still, flattered by the attention despite her discomfort. Bellatrix tilted her head, considering. "Pretty girl..." she murmured, more to herself than to Hermione. She licked her lips almost unconsciously then looked back into the pleading brown eyes facing her. A smirk unfurled across her sunken cheeks. "I suppose I can indulge you this time, just once."
She leaned forward towards Hermione, who closed her eyes expectantly. Her lips brushed lightly against hers and she trembled at even this soft touch. The smirk vanished as Bellatrix pressed her mouth fully to Hermione's, who wrapped her arms tightly around the thin and warm body. Her lips were soft and warm, but not nearly as much so as the tongue that slipped out of her mouth and slid across her lower lip, wordlessly asking permission.
Her thoughtfulness and softness surprised the Gryffindor as she eagerly opened her mouth to the older witch, that sweet and wet tongue pushing past her parted lips to explore inside. Hermione wove a hand into her hair (and it was soft, so much better than she imagined…) as she slowly, gently caressed the younger witch's tongue with hers. Despite her hesitation and mockery, Bellatrix seemed to be enjoying herself as her mouth moved with Hermione's. She tasted and smelled like blood, but it was easy enough to ignore compared to the feeling of her soft lips and smooth skin. Hermione's head spun; she couldn't get enough of this, of her. She pulled the older witch even tighter against her, craving her presence, needing her as close as possible, and moaned quietly into her mouth. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and Hermione's world spun only around her.
In that moment, she was everything that Hermione could ever want. In the next, she was everything wrong with the world. She was disgusting, a sadistic murderer and a Death Eater, a shell of a woman almost thirty years older than the Gryffindor. She was utterly revolting, a creature who ought to be exterminated at once. Even worse, Hermione allowed her to put her tongue in her mouth. She had welcomed it, even.
With a cry of horror and disgust, Hermione wrenched herself away from the older witch, scrambling to her feet. Bellatrix watched her, wide eyed, a thin strand of saliva glistening on her chin. Hermione didn't want to think about whose it was. The two stared at each other for a moment until she understood and burst into laughter.
"It looks like that potion has worn off, then."