AN: I know about as much as you guys do about where this story will take us, which means that every plot twist throws me off as much as you. The kiss in the last chapter was a complete surprise and it took me a while to work it in. Apologies for the delay and love to reviewers, hopefully I can get some semblance of a plot in here. Lyrics are from Rule the World by Kamelot.
-Ophelia
Sometimes I tremble like a little child
That faces morning with a broken smile
Sometimes I crumble when the shades unfurl
Sometimes I feel that I could rule the world
Bellatrix shrieked with laughter as the younger witch wrenched away, vigorously wiping her mouth on her arm, scrubbing away the invisible taint. "What's the matter, Mudblood? You didn't enjoy that?" She leaned forwards, slowly licking her lips (which certainly didn't look attractive now; red like blood and thin) as if to savor the taste, knowing how revolted Hermione would be by the sight. That hideously mocking smile was more brilliant than she remembered and she recalled how she had changed those teeth only a few minutes ago, how terribly important it was that they were flawless. That she was flawless. A few minutes ago, Bellatrix Black was the most desirable creature on earth, and Hermione had kissed her, willingly and enthusiastically pressed her mouth and tongue to hers… She shuddered with disgust, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the still smirking Death Eater. "Well, excuse me for trying to accommodate your outrageous demands. I merely gave you what you had asked for," she sniffed haughtily.
"But you knew it was the potion talking!" Hermione exclaimed, furious that anybody would dare blame such a disgusting encounter entirely on her. "You were the one that gave it to me in the first place! A love potion! What did you expect?" Bellatrix shrugged, unconcerned. "Besides," Hermione added, "since when do you just obey any command given to you by a Mudblood as low as me?" The older witch's eyes narrowed; she had clearly struck a nerve.
"You better watch yourself…" she threatened, raising her wand menacingly. But inspiration had just struck and Hermione brushed off the warning as she would a mildly annoying fly. She felt a sudden need to anger Bellatrix, as though her fury would wash away the kiss and leave them back to the mutual hatred where they started.
"Of course, that's all you ever do. Obey people. You dedicated your entire life to obeying Voldemort," she drew out the name and watched with satisfaction as the Death Eater swelled with fury. For whatever reason, Bellatrix seemed to be trying to hold herself back, but Hermione knew just the thing to push her over the edge. She continued in a whisper, watching those black eyes burn with hatred. "But it wasn't enough for him, was it? No amount of loyalty, of dedication, of worship. You were never good enough for him, were you?" Her eyes widened and the wand lowered almost imperceptibly. The older witch hadn't expected Hermione, or anybody else, to attack in such a manner, so far below the belt. But still the snake had not struck, and the lion forced a smirk on her face, wanting to watch her lose all control over herself. Hermione needed to force the other witch to become the monster she had always known so that she could go back to hating her in peace, as if the kiss never happened.
Emboldened by her fury and disgust at what had been allowed to pass between the two, she got right up in Bellatrix's face, egged on by her nearly explosive anger. "He never did and never will love you. You were nothing to him."
The response came almost instantly; an elastic finally stretched too far and snapping back. "CRUCIO!" Her rage washed over Hermione like lava and all she felt was the burning, everything burning. A thousand white hot knives, stabbing and slicing and cutting away all that held her together. She could feel her throat strain with her screaming, feel her limbs thrashing across the ground, but these were pinpricks of sensation compared to the all-consuming flame. It was a feeling that Bellatrix had shown her before, on the floor of her sister's mansion while she and her family fretted in the corner. It was a feeling that Hermione knew and loathed, one that she permanently attached to the witch who bore down on her, white-faced with unspeakable fury.
The curse lifted suddenly and Bellatrix yanked the younger witch up by her hair, bringing their faces an inch apart. Hermione felt the familiar thrill of fear as she stared back into what was surely the face of death itself, then relief at such a normal reaction. Despite their sudden proximity she was most confident that the last thing Bellatrix was going to do was kiss her again, exactly what she was aiming for . "Let me get something straight, Mudblood," the Death Eater snarled, shaking with rage. "I know you don't understand how things were between us, you'll never understand." She threw the Gryffindor forcibly to the ground, where her face smashed against the rock. She felt her nose break and blood pour sickeningly into her mouth and down her chin. Hermione spat it out and watched as Bellatrix dodged the sticky mass, a look of disgust on her face as she beheld the inferior Muggle blood.
"So tell me." She had no idea where the words came from; she didn't really want to know about Bellatrix's desperate and depraved love for the Darkest wizard who ever lived. She really didn't, but the words poured out and she had asked anyways. The older witch stared at her, equally taken aback. To Hermione's horror, her infamous rage seemed to melt away as she slumped onto the ground, looking defeated. Gone was her usual haughty but wild manner, leaving a frightened girl in a woman's body. The more she considered their twisted relationship, the more despondent she seemed to become until she decided that she needed some sort of reassurance and began to shuffle along the ground towards the alarmed Gryffindor. When it was clear that she would offer no such comfort, Bellatrix curled her bony body into a tight ball of misery and lay her chin on her knees, eyeing the other witch mournfully. It unnerved Hermione deeply to see a warrior as fierce and proud as the one before her, one who had only a minute ago attacked her, reduced to such a state. It was even more disturbing than seeing her physically hurt by the Order, if possible, because here the enemy was herself.
"I loved him." The words came as a whimper, strained and pained. "I loved him and served him and he never gave the slightest fuck. He was the king and all of us who served him were the pawns. The Muggles and Mudbloods weren't even that good, they were the board. They were the ground that the pieces trod upon. For years I thought I was the queen but I was wrong. I was the bishop or something, handy but ultimately disposable." You covered your face in your hands as if your confession shamed you, which of course it probably did. I heard a smothered sob. "He was everything to me but I was nothing to him. I murdered and tortured for him, all of it for him. All right, it was fun, but I never would have gotten into it alone."
By the end, she seemed to be talking more to herself to Hermione, who decided to step outside and give her a moment to pull herself together. She felt vaguely embarrassed for Bellatrix, as though she was revealing a dirty secret rather than describing the love of her life. It struck the Gryffindor just how lonely, or how deranged, someone has to be to turn to Voldemort of all people for affection. As she stood to leave, ready to flee from this uncomfortable display, however, Bellatrix's arm snapped out to wrap around her legs. "Please don't leave me," she begged desperately, all former malice vanished. Tears ran down her face and her eyes were pleading. She looked absolutely pathetic, and had never seemed more human. Hermione could not bring herself to leave behind someone who needed her help, and despite the tremors still pulsing through her body from the Cruciatus curse and the blood sheeting from her broken nose, she sat back down besides the desolate witch. She immediately curled up against the younger witch like a lost puppy, clinging to the nearest being that could provide shelter. Hermione found herself wondering if this was what drew her to Voldemort in the first place; the man certainly seemed capable of watching after people. The problem was that while he had the power, he lacked the empathy to do so.
"I don't like to be alone," Bellatrix said, her voice suddenly quite steady and emotionless. "Don't try to leave me again or I'll have to hurt you." Her matter-of-fact air would have annoyed the Gryffindor in another situation but here she felt relieved at any display of self-confidence. She would rather snog the Death Eater again than see her fall apart like this; it was incredibly disconcerting to see such a figure of power and terror sob like a frightened child. A few moments quietly passed until Hermione abruptly remembered the reason that she had come out here in such a rush in the first place.
"You're dying," she told the other witch, careful to match her tone. "The Order of the Phoenix poisoned you and you need to get the antidote straight away." Bellatrix's face tightened for a moment, then she shook her head.
"I want to die. What else do I have to live for? My master is dead. My cause is in ruins.
My sisters probably hate me. I will be imprisoned for the rest of my life, if I'm lucky. I have nothing." The words sounded melodramatic, but there is no denying that they were completely true. What value could her life possibly have? Nevertheless, Hermione felt the need to help her; to keep the promise that she had made to herself. She came out here to save the flighty prisoner and damn if that's not what she'll do, even if she refused to save herself.
"Now, that isn't true. Of course your sisters love you," Hermione lied. Bellatrix managed a derisive snort in her misery and shook her head again.
She tried to keep her voice from growing harsh with impatience, but she knew that she must still convey that there would be no arguing. She needed to maintain this newfound authority without pushing the older witch away. She wondered idly if this was how Harry felt talking to Kreacher. Shaking the errant thought from her mind, Hermione took a deep breath. "Bellatrix." At the sound of her name, the defeated witch raised her head, staring at the younger woman through eyes that have already given up. The resemblance to Andromeda unnerved Hermione, although her sister's despair was felt by the rest of the Order as they rejoiced over Bellatrix's terrible loss.
"Bellatrix, you need to pull yourself together now. We need to get back to the castle. You're not dying on my watch." Hermione was no longer surprised to find that she meant every word.