There was a lot of bumping and grinding going on as they both danced with several different partners. Those who dared, those with enough confidence cupped Hermione's plentiful backside to pull her even closer. It excited her in a way she was unfamiliar with, a heat pooling in her stomach. But when they tried to slip their hands up her legs and under her dress, she stomped on their foot and delivered a harsh punch in either the gut or the manhood.
Bellatrix was also on the receiving end of a lot of male attention, much to the dislike of the many pretty females in the room. But they were all blonde and she knew that men always wanted someone a little bit different to play with.
She worked her charm on many men and they bought her endless streams of muggle drinks. Bellatrix drank them but never got tipsy. The men didn't understand it.
Hermione didn't accept any drinks. Being inexperienced with alcohol, in a strange country, with strange men… It was bound to cause trouble in some form.
One man, however, caused Bellatrix to have another flashback. So she froze in place and drifted out of it when he hugged her and pulled her in, hungrily. Exactly the way he used to.
He pulled her close, clothes were ripped, again. The bed frame wouldn't stand much more of this torture. The twisted Iron roses had been mangled from him tying her up, from him gripping onto them as he thrusted, usually painfully, inside her.
Often she had to fight him off to stop the pain, he mistook her cries as pleasure and her screams as ecstasy, he mistook her fighting him as trying to get control of him, but he liked to be dominant. Her efforts to push him away were futile because he would press closer, thrust harder, showing her who was in control.
Bellatrix started to cry, tears streamed from her eyes.
"What's wrong now?" He snapped.
"It hurts." She whimpered.
"Good." He replied and carried on with his ministrations, uncaring about how much it hurt, the amount of agony she was in. Her hips were often bruised as was a lot of her pale skin.
Snapping out of it, she ran off the loo's without even apologising to the man who was confused, trying to talk to her. Hermione saw her freeze and bolt, so she followed after her.
Bellatrix pressed her back to the wall and sank to her knees. She sighed and looked up as Hermione entered.
"Are you alright?" The young girl asked hesitantly. Bellatrix thought about her answer. In truth, she wasn't alright. She was scared. The flashbacks were getting more frequent. Stronger. More vivid. Almost like the pain was real.
"I'm fine." She whispered, defeated. She wasn't about to admit that she might be vulnerable. No. She was a Black. That would never happen.
"You don't look fine." She said bluntly, joining her on the floor. "What are with all of these flashbacks anyway? Have you always had them?"
Bellatrix shook her head and readjusted the pins in her hair to let a few curls fall loose. "They've only come on recently but they're getting worse. I'll be fine. I always am."
Hermione let the matter drop but she could see in her eyes, that she was not fine. Hermione had always been good at reading people.
Taking a deep breath, Bellatrix pulled herself to her feet and offered Hermione a hand up. She didn't take it but got up and took her hand to lead her to the mirrors.
"Look in the mirror. What do you see?" She asked.
Bellatrix saw everything she was, everything she wasn't… And she saw it all with such disturbing clarity that she went rigid in shock, sucking her breath in through her teeth.
"What do you see Bellatrix?" Hermione pressed, both curious and demanding.
"A broken woman. A woman who is going to hell for all of the hurt and strife she has caused in both her own life and the lives of those around her." Her breath came out as the barest of whispers but a whisper filled with such emotion and power that Hermione forgot how to breath for a second, the pain was evident and that stunned her. Who knew that behind that cold and crazy mask… was a woman who felt like she was doomed to burn in the pits of hell for the rest of eternity… living as if she was already there? Bellatrix let her eyes fall to the floor, refusing to meet the dead brown eyes of her reflection. She stood there, perfectly still, barely breathing, not thinking. She was an empty shell. A carcass as she had lost the will to live. The only thing she was living for now, was to keep Hermione safe, for the light side.
Burning… That's how she felt and that triggered yet another flashback.
"Hey Bella! Come in here for me, I have something I want you to do for me." His voice rang out with a hint of smugness. She imagined him smirking and imagined what he wanted from her.
She slowly walked into the room and shuddered when she saw the candle that had nearly burnt out, wax still liquid.
"Strip off." He ordered. Authority rang out in his voice and with trembling hands undid the clasp at the top of her dress and pulled the zipper. The satin material pooled at her feet.
"Lie down." Another order that she shakily… hesitantly carried out. She took in a shaky breath as her head hit the pillow and her hands stayed rigid at her sides. She saw his trousers twitch as he got excited and the hot wax spilled over her stomach and breasts.
Then came the screams.
Bellatrix hitched up her dress at the side and showed Hermione one of the scars left by the hot wax.
"See? Burning." And with that she dropped the edge of her dress and walked back to face the onslaught that was a crowded bar with grinding, sweaty bodies and repulsive guys with slutty moves to try and get laid.
Hermione's face was flushed and she was panting when they decided that enough was enough and Bellatrix took Hermione by side-along-apparation back to the cooling cottage in England.
Able to breath again in the clean, fresh, cool air that wasn't tainted by the smell of other people, of overpowering perfumes or by beer. Hermione gulped the air down like someone who has just breathed properly after holding their breath for a minute.
They walked into the little cottage and were confronted by the mass of shopping bags that were piled on the floor, on the couch and the table. They groaned in unison and Bellatrix flicked her wand and the bags sprung up, lined up, and floated behind her as she lead Hermione into an unfamiliar room. Obviously, the room had been magically manipulated as the sheer size should have surpassed the house itself.
In the room were rails. Lots of them. Each row was filled with many hangers laden with clothes. Many of them were exquisite black dresses in every material that you can think of.
Even just a black dress made of netting.
The back wall was full of shoes. Different colours, styles and materials… Hermione gasped.
Bellatrix made some complex wand movements and the garments flew out of each bag and either joined the racks or the shoes that were on hooks on the walls. The bags folded themselves up and stacked themselves neatly into the corner.
Hermione decided to wander and let her mouth fall open in astonishment at some of the outrageous dresses.
One she saw was risqué but she fell in love with it immediately. It brought a whole new meaning to the term 'Little Black Dress'.
Extremely low cut at the front, and there was virtually nothing to the back other than a few criss-crossing straps holding the dress together. It was high enough up the leg that it just came to the bottom of her bum cheeks and there was a spilt that went from the right edge of the dress (Where the leg should be) up to the top of the hip. This was just to prove that there was no underwear involved but it would have to be taped to her… She didn't fancy flashing people.
She looked over her shoulder at Bellatrix who wore a satisfactory smile and said "If you want to try it on, there's a changing room in the far corner." Hermione wandered over and picked up a pair of shoes like the pair she wore but the ribbons were long enough to reach the middle of her thighs, and she skipped to the little room to change with a cheeky smirk on her face and a confident glint in her usually innocent eyes.
The thin material hugged her curves and emphasized all the right areas. She fell more in love with it than before and she couldn't wait to wear it out.
Bellatrix remembered the first dress that she wore with him and she fell into the jaws of another vicious flashback.
"You look lovely Bellatrix. Where does Rodolphus think you are?" He grinned down at her.
"He thinks I'm with Narcissa and Lucius." Her eyes were half closed as she concentrated on walking and not tripping over the beautiful long, midnight blue dress.
"Ahh. At Malfoy Manor. I see. Where would you like to go?" His eyes were slightly amber but mostly a brown that flashed red in different lights.
"How about…" She thought for a moment. "Spain?"
He nodded and watched her fluid motions. He was walking her to a spot from which they could apparate out.
He long dress kissed the floor as she walked. Her long, pale leg, wrapped in black silk in a criss-crossing formation as a ballerina's shoe would, peeked out from behind the slit. It hugged her curves and created them where they lacked. The strap sat behind her neck and just over her bare shoulders. The neckline was straight and gave the barest hint of cleavage which he wished was bare and under his hands already.
Reaching the alleyway, they turned down it and apparated them both out.
She was expecting to go to Spain, but they turned up in a hotel. Confused, she went along with him as he booked them into the honeymoon suite.
He dragged her up the stairs with a ferocity that scared her and he began to grope her before they were in the comfort of the room.
She shivered and bit down on her lip. She didn't mind being rough every once in a while, but usually he was such a gentle lover, it was just surprising to see this desperate… eager side of him.
"What do you think Bellatrix?" Hermione came out and Bellatrix was stunned. She looked beautiful with the straps twisting so far up her legs and the dress (if you could even call the small piece of material that) was just perfect on her slight frame.
"You look perfect, but come on, take it off. You can wear it tomorrow but now, you need your sleep. You're yawning away over there."
Hermione sighed and her shoulders slumped forwards as her mouth opened in a jaw-wrenching yawn.
"Maybe you're right." She got out before another bout of yawns hit her full force. She hung up the dress and pulled on a nightdress that was in the room, ready.
Bellatrix's eyes were slightly unfocused as she led Hermione back up to her room.
Bellatrix walked, in a daze, to the garden where she apparated out and to her own, empty, depressing, lonely, cold room.
Mechanically, she changed, showered and fell into her bed which creaked with age as it hit the wall.
Her eyes closed and the nightmares started.
A/N: Not much left to be completely honest but please… Review. You know you want to. Constructive criticism?