Something cold was dripping onto Harry's face-pulling him slowly from the slumber he had been enjoying.
"Mister Harry Potter must wake up!"
Harry frowned at the impatient voice, trying to identify the speaker. His body was slow to respond, however, and the steady dripping was replaced by a surge of icy liquid.
"Argh!" Harry leapt from his bed, his heart thundering within his ribcage. "What-who-" his hand groped shakily for his glasses, which he immediately crammed onto his face so that he could see.
"Dobby?" He asked, his irritation fading marginally as he squinted at the elf standing before him. It was still dark, but he could make out the faint outline of the other being. More importantly, he could see the bucket of water that had just roused him. This had better be important, he thought with a yawn.
"It is not Dobby," the elf replied in a nervous voice, "It is Thimble."
Harry nodded sleepily as the information took a few moments to register. When it did, his head snapped up, "Thimble? Dobby's mother?"
"Yes, Mister Harry Potter," Harry could see her ears flap as she nodded, "Thimble is Dobby's mother. Thimble is also the elf of Mistress Be-"
"Shh!" Harry cut her off as Neville let out a loud snore. He listened carefully to make sure that the others were still asleep, then grabbed his wand. Motioning towards the door, he led Thimble into the stairwell.
"I don't want to wake them," he explained.
The stairwell was well-lit, and he could now make out Thimble's anxious expression.
"Is it Hermione?" He asked, suddenly alarmed. "Has something happened to her? Lavender said she's been ill-"
"Miss Hermione is… coping," Thimble sighed. Her eyes fell, "She has been having a difficult time."
For a moment Harry thought the elf was going to burst into tears, but she seemed to pull herself together. Her shoulders straightened and she pulled her determined gaze up to meet Harry's questioning one.
"Thimble needs Harry Potter's help."
Fifteen minutes later Harry was following the little elf down the Grand Staircase towards the portrait of Percival Pratt. Both were hidden securely beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
"So if Hermione cursed Bellatrix with eternal sleep then why do you need me?" He asked.
Thimble pulled the portrait away from the wall, revealing the passage that led to the Boathouse. She did not answer until they were both inside, and Harry had illuminated the tip of his wand.
"The Headmaster believes he knows the location of Godric Gryffindor's actual special potions collection." She started down the steps, "Mister Harry Potter can take his cloak off now, no one else is here."
"Dumbledore thinks we can find the potion?" Harry asked as he stuffed the cloak into his pocket.
Nodding, the little elf did not slow her quick steps as she practically galloped down the stone steps, "The Headmaster was very optimistic."
"And it'll work, even though she has this curse on her?"
There was a sigh that reminded Harry of Hermione, "Thimble does not know for sure, but Miss Hermione said something about the potion reversing everything that has happened after the age that is chosen. It will be as if the curse never happened."
"Oh right," Harry said, remembering that he was the one who 'discovered' the potion in the first place. It is very early, he reminded himself.
They reached the bottom of the staircase, and Harry eyed the rows of neatly stacked rowboats. "So where are we going to find this potion?" he asked.
There was a clink that signified she had set down the bucket. Then Thimble's voice came from the edge of the dock, "In Gryffindor's crypt."
Harry turned in time to see the little elf jump into the water.
Hermione let out a breath of relief when Lavender finally left for breakfast. She was always the last out the door, and she never missed an opportunity to "check on" Hermione.
It would have been sweet if not for the fact that Hermione was convinced the other girl was acting purely so that she could feel important. Lavender had never been so concerned before.
Hermione buried her head in her pillow and prepared to drift back into sleep.
It was then that she heard the door open, and a brisk click of footsteps upon the floorboards.
Her whole body stiffened as her hangings were pulled open. She did not move her face from the pillow, sensing that the light would hurt her eyes. She said nothing as she waited for the intruder to speak.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, "I understand that you are out-of-sorts at the moment, but I'm afraid that you need to come with me. I will wait outside until you are dressed."
Hermione did not move until she heard the door close again. For a brief moment she considered going back to sleep, but she reluctantly extracted herself from the tangle of blankets and sheets.
It's better to get this over with, she told herself as she performed a basic cleansing spell to rid her skin of the grime that had accumulated during her time in bed. Her limbs were stiff as she changed into her school robes, but she hardly noticed. Her head felt fuzzy and sluggish.
She ignored the mirror that hung by the door as she opened it.
McGonagall said nothing about Hermione's disheveled appearance. Instead, she peered sympathetically at the miserable girl. "The Headmaster would like to speak with you, if you're ready?"
Hermione nodded, and refused to meet her professor's gaze. Instead, she stared at the tips of her shoes.
"We'd better not keep him waiting," McGonagall said at last, though there was a note of disappointment in her voice. She turned to head down the staircase.
Hermione let out a breath she had not realized that she had been holding and followed McGonagall.
"What are you doing?" Harry shouted, rushing to the edge of the stone dock.
Thimble had surfaced, and was bobbing like a cork in the dark water, her eyes trained fiercely on Harry's.
"The Headmaster told Thimble that she could find the passage to Gryffindor's crypt beneath the Boathouse," she squeaked. The chattering of her teeth betrayed how cold the water must have been.
"You didn't say anything about swimming," Harry grumbled, pushing the invisibility cloak down deeper in his pocket to prevent it from falling out. He crammed his glasses into the other pocket. Gripping his wand tightly, he jumped in.
The water was bitterly cold. It felt like he was being stuck with pins all over his body. He came up sputtering.
"Mister Harry Potter must take a deep breath," Thimble instructed as he coughed up some of the water he had swallowed when he had landed, "the passage might be very far down-"
"Do you even know where it is?" Harry asked, eyes widening incredulously.
Her ears flapped as she shook her head, "No."
There was a moment when Harry briefly imagined jumping out of the water and heading for breakfast. But of course, he knew he would never do that to Hermione. He nodded to the elf, and glanced at the still-lit tip of his wand to reassure himself that they would not be diving in the dark.
Something close to gratitude shone in her eyes, as if she could read his thoughts. "Ready?"
He nodded.
Together, both inhaled deeply. Then, with surprising grace Harry had not expected, Thimble glided under the water.
He followed, somewhat awkwardly. She seemed to swim with movements akin to those he had seen mermaids make while Harry scrambled against the stone of the dock-finding handholds that helped him scramble after the elf. Luckily for him, the dock seemed to extend all the way to the bottom of the lake.
The light from his wand allowed him to see Thimble's arm wave from what appeared to be a narrow crevice in the rocks. He quickly made his way over to her.
Thimble had found a small passageway cut into the stone of the dock. It was impossible to tell how far into the castle it went, but Harry hoped desperately that they would find an air pocket soon. His lungs had started to burn, and he struggled not to panic as he followed Thimble down the passageway.
His lungs screamed for air as the two followed the passage around a bend. He struggled to hold onto his wand as little black spots filled his vision. It can't end like this he thought, it has to surface soon!
Just when he thought that he would pass out, he felt Thimble's strong fingers close around his upper arm. He was being pulled up, and then-
Air! He drank it in, taking deep breaths. It filled his lungs with a musty sweetness that he felt he would never take for granted again.
"Thank you!" gasped Harry at the little elf, who blushed in return.
They had come up into a circular chamber. The mosaicked walls glittered in the light from Harry's wand. Millions of brightly colored shards created a stunning panorama of the castle and it's grounds. Harry quickly pulled his glasses from his pocket, put them on, and stared wondrously at the scene.
"There is a ladder, Mister Harry Potter," Thimble's voice echoed around him, and he turned to see the elf standing next to a stone ladder that climbed out of the water. He smiled gratefully as he pulled himself out.
"Please call me Harry," he said, suddenly realizing that he had not said anything yet.
Thimble just shook her head a little, "Mister Harry Potter is cold," she remarked.
Harry had been so preoccupied with the fact that he could breathe again that he did not notice the little puffs of steam that his breath created. But now that she had pointed it out he was aware of how cold the chamber was. "Oh," he said lamely.
There was a snap, and Harry felt as if he had been engulfed in a pocket of warmth. His pyjamas were suddenly dry, as was the rest of him. A grin stretched across his face, "Thank you!"
Another blush tinted her cheeks, and she cleared her throat a few times, "Well, hopefully this is the right chamber," she squeaked, moving towards a large passageway. Harry did not hide his smile as he followed.
There were no torches to light their way, but the mosaic continued into the passageway- depicting scenes from what Harry assumed was the construction of the castle; as well as reflecting the light from Harry's wand so that it glittered around them.
He found himself enjoying the long walk as his eyes roamed over the various scenes. In one, Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor stood clasping hands at the foot of the Grand Staircase. Another showed Rowena Ravenclaw bent over a desk, a quill in her hand as she made a notation in one of the tomes before her. Yet another showed Helga Hufflepuff happily stirring a pot in the Hogwarts Kitchens. While the scenes did not move the way that magical paintings did, it seemed to Harry that he could see the figures in each of the scenes breathing, as if they were holding still until after he left.
"This is amazing," he said.
Thimble cast a glance back at him, but did not reply. If anything, she quickened her already brisk pace, prompting Harry to break into a jog in order to keep up.
For someone with such short legs, thought Harry, she moves remarkably fast.
She did not slow down until they had reached the end of the passageway, when she halted so quickly that Harry had to hop to the side to avoid accidentally kicking her.
They had come to another circular chamber. Instead of mosaics, the walls were carved with words in different languages. Here and there Harry thought he recognized Latin sentences, but most of it was totally foreign to him. Four passageways were carved into the stone, each with one of the four House crests above it. Harry's eyes immediately sought out the Gryffindor lion, and he spotted the Gryffindor passage in the middle, next to Slytherin.
"Wait," said Thimble when he began to move forward. She was rummaging in what appeared to be a pocket on the side of the towel she was wearing.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise as she pulled Gryffindor's sword out, and handed it to him.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
Thimble smiled at his astonishment, "The Headmaster," then her face turned serious.
"Mister Harry Potter must not speak when we enter the passage," she said in a grave tone. "It will be dangerous if he does. Wizards," she looked around the chamber, a nervous expression on her face, "should not be here."
"Then why did you bring me?"
Thimble's eyes, their green a slightly faded version of Dobby's, turned back to him. "Thimble needs a Gryffindor to get in," she said. "Only true Gryffindor's can open the crypt."
"Then how will you get in?"
"Thimble is an elf," she said, as if the answer were obvious, "Thimble cannot open the crypt, but Thimble can go wherever she wants."
Harry felt an uncomfortable prickle on the back of his neck as S.P.E.W. came into his mind. He was certain that this was one of those "Elves are not human, and therefore are not considered," sort of things.
"I won't say anything," he promised, gripping the sword.
Nodding, Thimble started towards the Gryffindor passage. Harry followed, hoping that they would find what they were looking for.
Hermione felt a mild start of surprise when, instead of leading her to Dumbledore's office, McGonagall led her down into the Dungeons.
A mix of curiosity and dread mixed in her stomach as she followed her professor past the Potions classroom. They also passed the corridor that led to the Slytherin common room.
McGonagall stopped abruptly at a door near the end of the corridor, and rapped sharply on the wood.
"I've brought Miss Granger," she informed him as she ushered the girl into what must have been Snape's personal quarters. They had entered what appeared to be a small sitting room. There were several stiff-looking armchairs, a table, and several well-stocked bookcases. "Now will you tell me why I had to bring her all the way down- Albus," horror filled McGonagall's voice, "what is the meaning of this?"
Hermione went rigid when she finally saw what had surprised McGonagall. A bed was clearly visible through the open door that led to Snape's bedchamber, and on the bed-
McGonagall's voice was scandalized, "Bellatrix?"
Why are all of these passages so long? Thought Harry as he and Thimble walked down the winding passage. His stomach complained loudly every few minutes, reminding him that he was exerting himself quite a bit on an empty stomach.
They rounded another bend, and Harry nearly yelled his surprise when he saw what was waiting for them.
The passageway was mostly walled off. A tiny door was flanked by two familiar-looking lion statues. Harry was very happy when they remained still. That was not the surprising part however.
Standing in front of the door was an elf. Or at least, Harry thought it was an elf. His skin was grey, and looked to be made from the same stone as the lions. He had a beard that was so long it lay coiled upon the floor at his feet. He wore a burlap sack, and held a tall golden staff that was encrusted with rubies. His eyes were milky white, and Harry's skin crawled as he stared into the opaque orbs.
When the ancient elf spoke, it sounded as if the sound was being made by someone rubbing two rocks together.
"They call us Gryff. We are the loyal house elf of Master Godric Gryffindor."
Harry did not know who 'we' were, and he found himself looking around for signs of another elf. When he did not find any, he returned to his wary observation of the interaction between the elves.
Thimble stepped forward, her little shoulders squared, "They call me Thimble. I am the loyal house elf of Mistress Bellatrix Lestrange. This is Harry Potter, a true Gryffindor."
Gryff cocked his head, "We shall decide if that is true or not."
Thimble motioned for Harry to step forward, and the wizard obeyed. There was a sickly-sweet smell emanating from the old elf, and Harry fought to control his expression as he bent down in front of him.
"Give us the sword," came the demand.
Harry complied, handing over the sword and watching as the elf examined it.
"Give us your hand."
Stretching out his hand, Harry had to bite down on his tongue to keep from exclaiming when the elf scratched his hand with a gnarled fingernail.
A thin trickle of blood seeped from the scratch, and Gryff ran his fingers over it. He then dabbed his fingers on the door behind him. Harry felt a twinge of revulsion as his blood glistened on the stone door.
Then, there was a shuffling noise as the door slowly opened.
"We are satisfied," Gryff groaned, "Why have you come to us?"
"Thimble is seeking a potion for her Mistress." The elf stepped closer.
Gryff squared his jaw, "You have come to the wrong place, then. We are not an apothecary."
"There is only one potion that can save Mistress," Thimble pressed, a note of desperation in her voice, "Thimble needs to find the Second Chance potion! The headmaster thinks it might be here, with the wizard who created it."
"He is right, but that does not change the fact that we cannot grant this request."
"Oh please," Thimble cried, throwing herself onto her knees, "Thimble must save her Mistress. Thimble will do anything! Anything!"
"Anything?" A thoughtful expression came across the elf's face. "Come here," he stretched out his hands.
Thimble staggered to her feet, and stumbled closer to the ancient elf.
He placed his hands on either side of her face, and muttered a word that Harry did not recognize.
Thimble convulsed, yelping in pain as she shook between his hands. Harry sprang forward with the intent to pull her away, but before he reached her she was released.
Harry caught her just before she fell to the floor. His brow furrowed as he cast a glare towards the elderly elf, but he kept his mouth shut as he helped Thimble regain her footing. She rubbed her temples gently, wincing here and there.
"You have seen a great many things," the elf commented in his gravelly voice, "We can see why you seek the potion. We must think about this."
Harry patted Thimble on the back as the older elf proceeded to stare into the distance. He was beginning to think that he did not like Gryff very much. His grumbling stomach endorsed this thinking as the minutes stretched between them.
Finally, the elf turned his face towards the pair before him.
"We have decided that your cause is a worthy one. We would like to give you a chance. Are you willing to perform the House Elf's Test?"
Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion, but Thimble answered without hesitation.
"Of course."
Gryff nodded, and handed the sword back to Harry, then slowly bent to gather his beard in his arms. "Follow us," he said, turning to shuffle through the door.
"Wait here," said Thimble, without looking at Harry.
Harry had no choice but to wait as Thimble disappeared through the door.
Hermione moved forward without thinking, crossing through the door until she stood at the foot of the bed. Her eyes stared unblinking into the face of the woman she loved more than anything else in the world, and she felt as if her heart was breaking all over again.
"Is she…" McGonagall seemed unable to answer the sentence.
"She is alive," supplied Dumbledore, and Hermione found herself breathing slightly easier, "but barely. Her elf has been keeping her from death."
Hermione felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. She did not know how Thimble had learned about Bellatrix's condition, but she was suddenly very grateful for the elf.
"She cannot stay here," McGonagall gasped, "If she wakes-"
A voice darted from the corner, startling both Hermione and McGonagall.
"She won't wake," Snape informed the Deputy Headmistress, "your student has cursed her."
"Is this true?" McGonagall asked.
Hermione nodded vaguely, her eyes still focused on Bellatrix. "She forced me to," she rasped.
"And why was that?" Snape asked, his voice dripping with something that sounded a lot like bitterness.
Hermione licked her lips, "She said that-that he was going to make her kill me. She didn't want to do that, and she d-didn't want to ask the Order for help. She doesn't want," the rest of her words came out in a whisper, "to b-be alive anymore."
Snape approached the bed so that he was standing next to Hermione, "Stupid," he hissed.
Whipping her head up in surprise, Hermione expected to meet his disdainful gaze, but instead he was glaring at Bellatrix's motionless form.
He still cares about her, she realized. She knew from the memories that the two had once been close, but she had thought that their friendship, if it could be called that, had survived.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "I believe that you were recently searching for a potion that would, let's say, turn back the clock for Bellatrix?"
"It doesn't exist," Hermione said hollowly, turning her eyes back to Bellatrix.
"What if I told you," she could hear the smile in Dumbledore's voice even without looking at him, "that it might?"
There were three hundred and twelve bricks making up the wall that ended the passage. Harry had counted them six times to make sure. The roar of his stomach had long ago quieted to a pained ache.
He sat slouched against the stone wall of the passageway, the sword beside him. He had briefly made a half-hearted attempt to review the things he had learned in his last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, but his mind kept wandering to Thimble.
He had come up with various scenarios of what might be happening. In the best-case scenario, Thimble got to have tea and answer a few questions while a basket full of fat kittens played at her feet. In the worst case scenario she had to ride a dragon into a lake of magma while wearing a cape of broken glass.
He distracted himself from thought of the latter by gathering up the pebbles on the ground and seeing if he could throw them into the lions' mouths. Their teeth kept getting in the way, but he was determined to succeed.
He finally succeeded in getting the tiniest pebble he had found into one of their mouths when the ancient elf reappeared.
Harry almost asked about Thimble before he remembered that he was not allowed to speak. He had to settle for staring questioningly at the ancient elf.
Gryff remained silent.
Something had gone wrong. Harry was sure of it. His heart pounded in his chest as he pictured the magma-dragon scene, and he swiftly turned to pick up the sword. Maybe the old elf would be more motivated if there was a sword pointed at his face.
But another movement from the doorway stopped him.
Bellatrix's elf emerged from the crypt with scratches all over her forearms, scorch-marks on her towel, bruises covering her tiny body, and…
A potion bottle.
Harry gave her his happiest grin, which she returned victoriously.
"We are impressed," Gryff said. "We hope that your Mistress uses her second chance wisely."
"Thank you," Thimble said to Gryff, clutching the bottle close to her heart. There were tears pouring from her eyes, but she radiated happiness.
"Let's get this to Miss Hermione," she chirped to Harry, a determined look on her face as she barreled towards the Passageway.
Harry spun to keep up, but was halted by Gryff's voice.
"We wish Harry Potter luck in his endeavors against this Dark Lord."
Harry nodded, and waved goodbye as he hastened to follow Thimble. She was already shouting back to him-
"Hurry Mister Harry Potter, hurry!"
Hermione sat in a chair at Bellatrix's bedside. It had been several hours since she had told the story of how Bellatrix came to be asleep, and both McGonagall and Dumbledore had agreed that she deserved some alone time with the dark witch.
McGonagall had been appalled by the rule-breaking, and Hermione had the feeling that if it weren't for the fact that she had removed Voldemort's strongest lieutenant from the picture she would have taken a hefty sum of points from Gryffindor. Though probably not enough, by Snape's standards. Throughout her story, the former potions master had been very liberal with the words "expulsion" and "had you been in Slytherin."
Dumbledore, on the other hand, had not mentioned the risks or the significant lack of regard she had for both her own personal safety and the school rules. He had merely made sympathetic noises here and there, and had passed her his handkerchief when she was crying too hard to talk.
She sat there, her hands clasped around one of Bellatrix's. The warmth of the skin beneath her fingers provided a small amount of comfort, though she did not dare to hope that a solution could be found.
A commotion from the sitting room caused her to look up. The door sprang open, and Harry was bursting into the room, a large grin on his face.
"She did it!" He crowed, rushing to pull Hermione up.
"She did what?" Hermione asked, a pulse of hope blooming in her chest.
But Harry did not answer. Instead, he pushed the brunette through the door, where she was greeted by the happy faces of McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Thimble.
The next thing she knew, a potion bottle full of purple liquid was being pressed into her hands. It took her a moment to register, then-
"YOU DID IT!" Hermione squealed. Happiness burst within her chest. She bent to scoop the elf into a tight embrace, kissing her all over her face. Harry was next, blushing as Hermione peppered his cheek with kisses. Then she was laughing as she hugged them both.
"Thimble is glad to see Miss Hermione smile again," the elf commented, her face tomato red.
Even Snape allowed a small smile to flash across his face when he learned the news. It was quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression, of course.
"I do hope this means you'll be finding more suitable accommodations for her," he drawled, "the second half of the potion will need to brew for at least a month, and I would like to sleep before then."
In the end, Bellatrix was moved to a room next to McGonagall's office. It was sealed off so that no students could stumble in to discover the sleeping Death Eater, and McGonagall created a second door that was accessible through her office.
The room was small and bare save for the bed that Bellatrix rested on, and a set of chairs that had been placed there so that the six people who knew about the room and it's occupant would be able to sit when they visited.
Hermione visited daily, sometimes bringing Harry, usually accompanying Thimble.
"You know that we have to tell Ron, right?"
Hermione looked up from her Advanced Transfiguration book, "Of course."
They were sitting on opposite sides of Bellatrix's bed, both with their schoolbooks open. But while Hermione appeared to be actually reading her book, Harry was gazing thoughtfully through the open window to where the edge of the Quidditch field could be seen. The late afternoon light filled the room with a warm glow.
"He's going to find out sooner or later. Personally, I think we should have told him as soon as we found the potion."
Exasperation marked Hermione's features as she opened her mouth to retort, but she was cut off as the door popped open.
"Thimble brought apples," the elf announced happily as she hefted a basket filled with red apples through the door.
The book Harry had been holding closed with a snap as he leaned forward eagerly to take the largest one. Ever since he and Thimble had returned from their adventure the elf had gone out of her way to supply him with food. "Thanks!" he said gratefully, biting into the crisp flesh.
"Thank you, Thimble," Hermione said, closing her own book and setting it on the edge of Bellatrix's bed. She bit into her own apple, and munched contentedly as the three of them sat in friendly silence.
A warm May breeze ruffled Hermione's hair, bringing with it the springy scent of wet earth and new grass. She breathed it in deeply, feeling as if everything- for once- was going to work out.
It was at that moment that the door sprang open a second time, and the beaming face of Albus Dumbledore paraded into the room, followed closely by McGonagall and Snape.
"Is it ready," Hermione asked, her eyes wide. She had leapt to her feet the moment she saw the look in the headmaster's eyes.
He nodded, "Professor Snape has determined that it is," he said. "He administered the unicorn blood this morning, as you can see-"
Hermione's eyes sought out the vial of liquid that Snape was holding. It was now clear, but it seemed to glitter with all the colors of the rainbow.
"If everything goes as planned, Bellatrix will wake up as a sixth-year once again."
Hermione nodded. Dumbledore and Snape believed that the potion would subtract the years from the date that the potion was administered. If they were correct, Bellatrix would wake up with all of her memories up to May 13th of her sixth year. Dumbledore had kindly explained this when she had nervously confessed her fears that Bellatrix would wake up on her 17th birthday- and therefore would not remember Hermione's confession about her time travelling.
It was perfect. May 13th was a few days after their battle in the field behind the Muggle village. There were a few memories from their last month together that Hermione would have liked Bellatrix to remember, but she was beyond ecstatic that Bellatrix would remember most of their time in school together.
"It may take a few days to take effect," Snape cautioned her as he moved towards the head of the bed. "And there is still a chance that it will not work at all."
Nodding her understanding, Hermione watched with eagle eyes as Snape tipped the contents of the vial down Bellatrix's throat.
There was a moment in which all eyes were fixed on the sleeping witch. Not a sound was made as they waited for something to happen.
"Nothing happened," Harry stated unnecessarily. Hermione's heart sank a little, but she refused to lose hope this soon after she had replenished it.
"Well, it appears as if this will not be an 'instant fix'," Dumbledore chuckled. "Someone once told me that all good things take time, so perhaps it's for the best."
Hermione lowered herself back into her chair, and reached out to grip Bellatrix's hand. She fully intended to remain there until she knew for certain whether or not the potion worked.
Several hours later McGonagall sent an elf with a tray heaped with food for Hermione and Harry.
Her friend remained at her side until McGonagall returned to their office hours later and ordered him to bed. To Hermione's surprise, however, the professor conjured up a cot so that she could sleep next to Bellatrix.
"It will be better if she sees a familiar face when she wakes," McGonagall had explained.
The next morning, as she leaned over the bed to check on the dark witch, Hermione let out a shout of surprise. "Professor!"
Moments later a slightly ruffled McGonagall rushed into the room, "Has she woken, is she breathing?"
"She's breathing," Hermione assured, feeling somewhat guilty at the flustered look on her professor's face, "she hasn't woken yet, but look!"
McGonagall examined the motionless figure, excitement entering her eyes. Bellatrix's hair, which had been previously streaked with grey, was now the smooth glossy black that it had been in her youth. In addition, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth were almost completely smoothed away.
"This is a very good sign," McGonagall said slowly, and a rare grin split across her face, "a very good sign."
Hermione felt as if she did not blink once in the three days it took for the potion to work its magic. McGonagall came in at regular intervals to make sure that Hermione stretched and took care of her basic needs.
Hermione might not have agreed to leaving the room at all if it weren't for the fact that Thimble (who had appeared shortly after McGonagall had sent Harry away that first night, and had not left the room since) mentioned something about Hermione not wanting Bellatrix to wake up to a smelly girlfriend.
The brunette had squeaked in indignation, and then promptly fled the room to bathe and change.
On the third night, however, nothing in the world could have moved Hermione from that room.
All of the scars, wrinkles, and signs of the hardships Bellatrix had survived were gone. The figure on the bed so little resembled the woman Bellatrix had become, that Harry had stared when he first laid eyes on her.
Her figure was fuller, her cheeks rounded, her skin smooth.
"She looks good," Harry commented, his eyes still wide as he sat down beside his friend.
There was a soft laugh, and Hermione reached to stroke a stray curl away from Bellatrix's face.
"I can see why you- I mean, it makes more sense now that I-" embarrassment colored his cheeks as he fell silent.
"Wait till you hear her speak," Hermione said, her eyes shining as they trained patiently on Bellatrix's face.
The rejuvenated features wrinkled a little in sleep, and Harry jumped nearly a foot in the air.
"She's been doing that all day," Hermione laughed. She didn't mention that she had done the same thing the first time she felt Bellatrix's hand tighten around hers. "I hope she wakes up soon."
"I believe she will."
The two students turned to see Dumbledore enter the room, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.
"I thought I'd come keep you company as we wait for Miss Black to wake up."
"Miss Black?" Harry asked, surprised.
McGonagall nodded as she took the seat next to Dumbledore opposite the two students, "Professor Dumbledore has asked Kingsley to retrieve the Ministry's copy of the marriage certificate between Bellatrix and Rodolphus."
Dumbledore smiled, "It seems that Miss Black's signature faded early this morning, voiding the marriage."
Thimble, who was sitting on a stool next to Hermione grinned triumphantly at her mistress.
Hermione could not hold back the delighted laugh that bubbled out from her chest. She beamed at Harry, and at the two Professors. "That's fantastic news!"
"What's fantastic news?" A sleepy voice joined the conversation.
The five other beings in the room stiffened, and stared wide eyed at the form between them.
Bellatrix, her eyes bleary from sleep, blinked up at them. "What happened?" She asked, her voice like a balm on Hermione's nerves.
The dark witch clasped Hermione's hand tightly as her eyes landed on Harry. "Who are you?" she demanded.
In a perfect world, Hermione would not have chosen Bellatrix's first words to Harry to sound so much like her nephew. The tone dripped with the same authority that was characteristic of the Slytherins.
She opened her mouth to introduce the young wizard, but was stopped when she noticed Bellatrix staring at Professor McGonagall.
The dark witch rubbed her eyes, and gaped at the older professor in a way that was almost offensive. Her eyes flicked back and forth between McGonagall and Hermione, and then the confusion cleared.
A proud smile stretched from ear to ear as she fixed her gaze on the brunette. "I knew you could do it!" Then, in front of everyone, she launched forward and pressed a kiss to Hermione's lips.
The four humans gave Bellatrix a rough description of what had happened (Hermione promised to fill in more of the blanks the next day) while Thimble summoned all of the dark witch's favorite foods from the kitchens.
Hermione had allowed Bellatrix to pull her up onto the bed when Dumbledore summarized the events that led to her being placed under the sleeping curse. Of course the Headmaster did not know all of the details, but Hermione found herself unable to talk about it. She merely leaned against her love as the other witch wrapped an arm protectively around her and listened with rapt attention to every word that came from Dumbledore's mouth.
Then, it was Harry's turn. He told the witch all about the adventure he and Thimble had gone on to collect the potion.
"So it's really Thimble we have to thank for this," he explained, nodding to where the little elf was standing quietly beside the bed- tears were running down her face and dripping from the edge of her long nose.
"I see," Bellatrix said, warmth shining from her eyes as she beamed at the elf. She leaned down and scooped the elf into the bed between her and Hermione. She laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of Thimble's head.
"Thank you Thimble," she said seriously, hugging the elf close, "you are the best elf in the world. I don't know what I would have done without you."
As Thimble burst into tears, Dumbledore signaled to Harry. Quietly, without disturbing the little reunion, the headmaster, McGonagall, and Harry crept from the room.
"I think it's safe to say," there was a merry glint in Dumbledore's eye, "that the potion worked."
And then Harry stared in astonishment as Professor McGonagall burst into a roar of laughter.
A/N: I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it!
I'm hoping to post the final chapter in two weeks. It is an epilogue, and will take place 19 years in the future. There will be a lot of flashbacks to fill in some of the gaps. It's mostly written, but I keep revising it (I'm having trouble deciding what to include and what not to include), so I wanted to give you all the option of suggesting things you'd like to see. If you have any questions that you'd like to be answered (i.e. do Hermione and Bellatrix survive the war?) please leave a review and let me know what it is. I'll do my best to fit it in.
If your questions cannot be worked into the final chapter for whatever reason I will send you a PM with my answer. Also, please not that this story is rated "T", so no "M" or "MA" questions please.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! As always, I could not have made it this far without your support and your wonderful reviews!