AN: Lyrics are from Six Feet Under's Not Deep Enough by Angtoria. Reviews make me squee with joy, which I'm sure is a rather alarming sound to those who have to actually hear it, but you get the idea :D
-Ophelia
You'll twist and turn your spite
'Til you drain the sane
Cover up your tracks with lies
Deceit hides a smile
So tired of this false pretense
Can't even look me in the eye
Bellatrix had already made it quite clear that she did not want to go back to the castle, but that was no reason to go completely limp when someone is trying to drag her back there and save her life. Downright rude, really, when one gets down to it. Hermione tried to pull her to her feet, pushing the older witch out of the shelter and onto the path in the forest. She did not fight put up a fight or resist, which scared the Gryffindor more than she was ready to admit. The Dark witch's apathy was almost as terrifying as her rage, but Hermione had already tried angering her and now had a broken nose to thank for it. Bellatrix was, even after being out of jail for a year and a half, emaciated and very light, but her height made dragging her along a challenge nonetheless. Hermione struggled for another few minutes before coming to a stop.
"Come on, Bellatrix!" she finally shouted in frustration. "We need to get you to the castle."
She turned her head to look at the source of the sound, staring as though not understanding why someone was holding her up. "Your face is all bloody," she said in a blank voice. It was clear that she had no interest in her surroundings and seemed unconcerned by the fact that she was the one who injured the younger witch in the first place. Rolling her eyes, Hermione tugged Bellatrix's wand out of her pocket, even more alarming than before in her lack of resistance. No longer supported, she fell to the ground and lay motionless, a six-foot tall rag doll. With a few waves of the wand and muttered spells, Hermione's nose was healed and cleaned just as Bellatrix's wounds were several minutes ago. The girl looked back down at the woman on the ground.
"You coming?"
"No. I don't want to go back. I want to stay here and die."
Hermione sighed sadly, feeling her heart go out to the defeated witch despite herself. Without her master she was nothing, at least in her own eyes. It was a disturbing thought. Hermione fervently hoped that she would never become so attached to anyone that her will to live would die with them. She crouched down beside the miserable woman, struggling to find soothing words. "Do you really think this is what he would have wanted for you, Bellatrix?"
"Yes. I've failed him. He kills those who fail him." Her voice remained perfectly flat and emotionless, as if she had taken Veritaserum. Or as if she had already died.
This threw Hermione for a loop. "How have you done that? You fought as hard as you could until the end." She hoped that this might appeal to the Pureblood's insatiable pride, but she did not seem to care.
"I didn't save him. I couldn't come to his aid this time." To her growing horror, Bellatrix began to sob again, emotion flooding back at the mention of her dead master and overwhelming her. This time, Hermione tentatively reached out to her and put an arm around her thin shoulders. Bellatrix clung tightly to her, all enmity forgotten in her despair, burying her face in Hermione's neck and shaking with misery. "I didn't save him. I didn't save him. I've failed him," she choked. "I'm the worst servant he's ever seen. I didn't save him. He's gone and he won't come back this time. I loved him. I still love him. I didn't save him."
The words spewed forth as Hermione held her, rocking the witch soothingly back and forth. She hesitated, and then gently stroked the wild hair, but nothing would calm her. Bellatrix was absolutely hysterical, her words stifled by her endless tears. "He needed me but I couldn't do anything. I wasn't there for him and I didn't save him. Now he's dead and I should be too. Leave me alone." She pushed weakly against the arms wrapped around her, but Hermione held tight and she soon gave up. She continued to mourn loudly as the Gryffindor desperately wondered how to get her up to the castle. The more the Death Eater wished for death the more the Muggle-born wanted to save her. Not to spite her, but to help her. Hermione was filled with a sudden desire to make her see what there was to live for, to see the beauty of the world, untainted by the evil wizard who had been her whole life for so long.
Bellatrix did not seem to notice as Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at her. "Stupefy." A flash of bright red light and she fell limp, her sobs suddenly ceasing. Silence filled the air, blessed silence. She heaved her to her feet and began to half-drag, half-carry the limp form to the castle. There was not much time.
Professor McGonagall met her student at the door leading to the Entrance Hall, arms crossed and lips pursed. Any other student seeing her like this would have beaten a hasty retreat, but Hermione was glad to see someone waiting for her. Her arms burned from carrying the witch so far. "Andromeda Tonks told me where you had gone, Miss Granger. She wanted to know why you wanted to save her sister and I must confess that I am curious too." Her eyes swept up and down, noting the bloodstains on the younger witch's clothes, the twigs caught in her hair, and the way her arms trembled from carrying Bellatrix. "What makes her worth all this trouble to protect her?" She looked Hermione in the eyes and her face softened. "You can't save her, you know. She was sentenced to death following her escape attempt. She is just too much of a liability."
Hermione nearly dropped her at the news. She was glad that Bellatrix was unconscious; if she had been awake then she would have eagerly agreed to the sentence. Hermione was certain, however, that deep down she still wanted to live. The vicious Death Eater had fought too hard for too long to consider her own life so easily tossed aside, regardless of how miserable and worthless she felt at the moment. Hermione had to convince McGonagall to reconsider, but what words have ever swayed that woman? Perhaps it was not so good that Bellatrix could not speak after all; her tears would move anyone but Voldemort. A terrible irony, as he would be the only one who could stop them.
"Professor, please. Of course she escaped the castle, of course she did. You saw what they did to her."
McGonagall hesitated. "I have not seen it nor did I partake in it, but I have heard… things." She looked uneasy. "It is my understanding that it was undeservedly brutal, even for a witch such as this. However, she seems to be in perfect health now."
Hermione blushed, hurrying to explain herself without actually giving any explanation at all. "I healed her. She's still poisoned, though. She needs help straight away, professor." Behind her glasses McGonagall's eyes widened, a sight as rarely seen as Bellatrix crying. It seemed that Hermione had stumbled upon many wonders today.
"Miss Granger, I would have thought you would bring the antidote with you when you went to find her. Come. We'll bring her to the hospital wing at once and then see what to do after." Seeing the young witch hesitate, she added, "I assure you she will not be subjected to the same treatment she received before. I will not allow that for anyone."
Hermione felt incredibly relieved. Bellatrix was safe now, just as the Gryffindor had hoped. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and the Death Eater was lifted from her tired arms, floating forward on her own. Her wild hair and the hem of her torn dress trailed along the ground as she moved eerily ahead. McGonagall looked down at Hermione. "I'll see her safely to the hospital wing, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have been searching the castle for you all day. They are quite worried. Perhaps you ought to talk to them."
She nodded, glancing at Bellatrix one more time. She would be safe now, of that one could be certain. Hermione made her way through the winding halls of Hogwarts, noting that much of the rubble had been hastily pushed up against the walls, until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. The familiar painting was oddly calming and Hermione smiled at her without quite knowing why. She looked back at the brown-haired witch. "Nice to see you again. Password?" Of course, Hermione did not know it. She sighed, frustrated, and made to turn back towards the Great Hall when a voice behind her called out her name.
"Hermione! Blimey, it's nice to see you." It was Dean who had spoken; he and Seamus climbed from the portrait hole with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. The witch smiled, pleased to see her two housemates safe and happy. It had been so long since any of them had really felt secure in the castle. She hugged each of the boys, who seemed rather taken aback by her sudden friendliness – Hermione Granger was by no means the casual hugging type – but embraced her back.
"Have either of you seen Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked as she stepped away. Seamus shook his head, smirking.
"Well excuse us, then. And here I thought you were so happy to see me and Dean, but you barely want to stop and say hello." Dean laughed. Hermione did too; it is so easy to relax around these two. They were always easygoing, unlike Harry and Ron who always needed a mystery to solve or needed help doing something. They were not unlike Fred and George in that manner. Fred. She felt the smile slide off her face at the thought of him, still and cold on the floor. He will never pull another prank. He will never laugh again, or make those around him laugh. The memory of her dead friend, removed from this world so quickly and cruelly, brought tears to her eyes, something Dean and Seamus did not fail to notice.
"I know it's been hard, Hermione," Dean said seriously. He did not need to ask what was wrong. The same thoughts have been plaguing them all for years. Hermione wondered if any of them would ever be free of the taint that the war left.
"It's not fair," she whispered. "We should be just a bunch of kids. We should be worried about our grades, not our lives. It shouldn't have to be this way."
Seamus nodded. "We know, Hermione. But the war is over." Is it? "Things will get better from here."
Hermione slowly wiped the tears from her eyes. "Thanks, guys. I need to find Harry and Ron, though. McGonagall said they were looking for me." She started down the corridor, leaving the boys behind. They had been perfectly happy when the witch had arrived and now she had left them upset, just as she did when she found Bellatrix in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione sighed dejectedly. Everyone she came in contact with seemed worse off after she found them. She trailed down the stairs, every step heavier than the last. Exhausted, she decided to go straight to bed after talking to Harry and Ron. Perhaps things would look brighter in the morning.
There was an angry babble of voices coming from the Great Hall when she slouched around the corner. Her heart, already heavy, instantly sunk further in her chest. What could possibly be going on now? Ginny was the first to saw the Gryffindor lurking near the door and motioned for Hermione to join her. She cautiously stepped into the Hall, glancing around at the crowd. "What's going on here?" she asked wearily.
The room fell silent.
Everyone exchanged glances, carefully avoiding looking at Hermione. Her chest felt constricted with fear. Did they find out how much she had helped Bellatrix, a notorious Death Eater? Were they about to kill her? They did, they were, she was certain of it. Hermione's breath came in short gasps, anticipating an attack. Would she ever allow herself to fully relax? Finally, Kingsley turned to look at her. He was always the bearer of bad news, and this time he did not disappoint.
"Hermione. There is much to be done to repair this country after what the Death Eaters," he pronounced the words with deepest contempt, "have done to it. One of those things is that you must be married, and quickly." Hermione blinked once, then twice, uncertain if she had heard properly. "Please sit down. We have a great deal to explain."
But she didn't want to sit down. All she wanted was to burn up, right there, under the scorching looks of everyone in the Great Hall. Hermione did not want to get married. Panic welled up in her, and then despair at what the Ministry was proposing. Everything that she had dealt with all day – the past several days – seemed to crash down on her at once, overwhelming her. All she wanted at that moment was, like Bellatrix, to die. To fade from existence where nobody would ask her to do anything for them again.