Bellatrix turns deadly when tempted with power while Draco and Hermione allow themselves to be led by their hearts deeper and deeper into the sticky web of forbidden love...

Bellatrix

The queen has left so hurriedly that I cannot help but feel a little curious about the reason behind her abrupt departure.

For the past few hours, she has been dancing with my husband, the man I cannot put up with, but still unarguably my husband. And I will admit that I feel slightly bitter towards his sudden shower of affections on the queen.

It has to be something serious, I have seen her gaze at my husband, eyes full with adoration the whole night, it is unnatural that she will leave like this, leaving him behind almost like a spurned lover.

"Some more wine, perhaps, Your Grace?" An unfamiliar server approaches me with a pewter jug of the crimson liquid. I nod and just as he is filling up my goblet, he reaches inside his sleeves and deftly withdraws a folded piece paper within.

I do not have to look around me to be certain that my husband is still staring blankly at the doors that queen has just walked out of. The rest of the courtiers previously around us have already withdrawn for the night.

Heart pounding, I reach for the paper with trembling fingers. It is a hastily scribbled letter, addressed to me from Draco's father. I can just make out the Slytherin crest and the crest of the Malfoy family under my fingers. Why would the great duke choose me over his own son to do his bidding? I wonder.

Hastily, I fold the paper into quarters and hold it in my fist. "Goodnight, my lord husband," I murmur to the man sitting as still as a statue and no doubt filled with questions about the queen's sudden departure, and make my way to my rooms without a backward glance.

Safely in my bedroom, I dismiss all of my maids and ladies-in-waiting and unfold the paper hurriedly.

Bellatrix,

It has come to my attention that my son, Draco has not been doing what I have entrusted him to do. This rather worrying revelation has forced me to turn to someone else whom I can trust to do the bidding of the House of Slytherin. You are loyal towards our house and I am assured by your parents that you will not let us down.

An uprising against the Gryffindor queen is planned for the day after tomorrow at the hour before dawn. Stay alert, guard yourself well.

We, the lords of Slytherin bid you do a task for us, for the benefit of our house. When the queen's advisors and soldiers ride out under her banner to attempt to put down the rebellion, we trust that she will be left behind and her defence greatly lessened.

This will be the perfect time to dispose of her. Do not flee the estate when news of the uprising taking place reaches the ears of the Gryffindor court.

We have a trained assassin in the queen's midst. Her name is Astoria. Seek her out, and when the time is ripe, give her the word, and she will kill the queen. Trust her, she is willing to die for the House of Slytherin.

Take heart, and remember: if the queen is dead and her army defeated, you will be the future Queen of England.

Your father-in-law

I stare at the piece of paper in my hands, hardly believing what I am reading. I stagger to my bed and sink down onto it.

No, I cannot do this, it is impossible, I think, filled with shock and fear. I cannot order the death of a queen, no matter how much I hate her and her house.

But slowly, I come to my senses, and I feel a sly smile spreading across my face. Why not? All I have to do is give the word.

I see myself as Queen of England, the most coveted prize of them all, the crown, on my head. I see the cheering crowds, I hear them call my name over and over again, "Long live Queen Bellatrix!" I will be the greatest woman in the land.

So why not? I question myself maliciously. Yes, I can do this. Yes, I can order the death of the Gryffindor Queen. Yes, I can and will take her throne.

Hermione

I am feverishly scribbling away letter after letter, to the lords from all over England, begging them for troops and to defend me, their anointed queen.

The Slytherin lords will have no doubt converted the whole of the North to their cause, and the men of the North are known throughout the kingdom as the bravest, most valiant fighters in England. To have them against me is a low blow indeed.

The candles burn low in their holders as I write and write and write, chest tight with fear. I am only a sixteen year old girl, I think fearfully. A queen, yes, but still a sixteen year old girl. Why do I have to fight for my life so early in my reign?

Images from the night earlier flashes through my mind. Could it be even possible that I was dancing with the Duke whose father leads the uprising and wants me dead? I think to myself as I sign "Hermione, Queen of England" on yet another hastily crafted letter.

But try as I might, the images of Draco never tarnishes in my memory. I do not need to convince myself that he does not want me dead.

His adoring eyes and loving gestures are never far from my mind even as I scribble letter after letter in the hopes of defeating his cause.

I remember how he swept me high in the air, holding me up in his arms at the end of a dance, my feet making contact with only thin air. It was the most breath-taking sensation I have ever experienced. High up in the air, securely held in Draco's powerful arms, the rest of the indignant court seemed to fade away, leaving only him and me.

"You look even more beautiful up here, Your Grace," Draco had joked, his eyes glinting mischievously. But after he set me down, he whispered more seriously, "An angel, Hermione, you remind me of an angel."

How can I bring myself to believe that the man who had called me an angel only a few hours earlier wants me dead? It is absurd.

Just a few hours have changed everything for me. And somehow, I feel like I have known Draco all my life. Like the scores of lovesick maidens before me, I think that love can triumph over anything.

As the hours creep by, I have to fight to keep my eyelids open. My head aches and the words I am writing blur before my eyes.

"Get the queen some ale," I hear Lady Ginny's voice. I absentmindedly fantasise about what Draco and I could have been if our families were not deadly rivals.

If I manage to survive this uprising, I think to myself, I will make it my immediate goal to unify England...

"Let me in, let me in I say!" I hear a familiar male voice outside my chambers. His voice and the knowledge of his presence drives any rational thought from my head.

My head snaps abruptly back, all thoughts of sleep driven from my weary mind.

I make to get up and run to the doors, but Lady Ginny puts a restraining hand on my arm.

"Your Grace, if word gets out that you have kept the company of an enemy even after receiving news of the uprising, you will lose the respect of your courtiers as well as the entire House of Gryffindor." she says desperately.

I pay her words no heed and tug my arm from her grasp and stare at her coldly. "Draco Malfoy is my friend," I say.

I will not let anyone prevent me from talking to Draco. It is foolish of me, oh so foolish, but my heart, a force powerful enough to rival the greatest crusade, leads me step by step towards the doors, closer and closer to Draco.

Yes, he is from the House of Slytherin, but I know that he, like me, has no choice. Our positions in this world has been decided for us by our parents and the cold, cruel hands of fate.

"Release the duke, now!" I spit at the guards who have got hold of Draco and are holding him tightly between them, arms pinned to his sides, still struggling.

"Your Grace, he is the enemy of our people, and he is so bold as to try to break into your sacred rooms, he deserves to burn at the stake for his actions!" A guard replies, his shock evident on his face.

"I am the queen, how dare you challenge my orders," I say furiously. "Release the duke!"

The guards shoot each other a look of pure disbelief but they have no choice but to heed my order. They release Draco reluctantly and return to their posts.

I lead Draco into my presence chamber and we settle onto the seats nearest to the window.

"The uprising," I sob, my distressed mind getting the better of me. "The House of Slytherin plans to force me from my throne, your own father wants me beheaded-" tears drip from my eyes and onto the emblem of a lion on my gown.

"Hermione, dear Hermione, my dear queen," Draco reaches out for me and folds me into his arms, love and distress intermingled in his eyes.

"The plots of my father, I assure you I have no part in them," Draco says comfortingly as he strokes my back. I relax in his embrace. I knew it, I tell myself. Draco would not plot against me.

My pounding heart stills, my worries melt away and I find the solace that I have yearned for in Draco's arms. We stay that way, through the remaining hours of the night, all thoughts of the uprising pushed out of our minds for the time being.

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