I don't really have one explanation for my absence but several. This chapter gave me a great deal of grief - it is far from satisfactory - which is depressing when I've attempted to rewrite it five times over the last six months. I've given some thought to future chapters and perhaps tried to squeeze too many 'seeds' into this one.
Anyway, enough about that.
To those who have stuck around, thank you. It won't take me half a year to upload the next one.
To those who want smut. You'll just have to wait.
Chapter Eleven
"Get up Mudblood."
The demonic silhouette called out across the garden-arena. A new morning had come – and with it, a fresh blanket of snow over the grounds that covered yesterday's battle. Hermione's elbows buckled under her weight, her body surrounded by soiled slush.
"I said get up!"
The brunette's body seized as she fell face first into the earth. She fought as her internals worked against her – the bread she had been given that morning rising in her throat.
"You worthless piece of shit."
Bellatrix did not lessen the curse she inflicted upon the girl. Not one word, not even a cry for water had escaped the Gryffindor's lips in two days. It hadn't taken Hermione long to figure out that the dark witch had no intention of killing her. She had tested this theory the first morning Bellatrix came to retrieve her from her cell. The raven haired witch now bore a bruised shoulder where the loose stone had struck her through the bars of the cellar door. It had come at a cost – through both torture and loss of food. Three times a day, no matter Hermione's state, Bellatrix dragged her outside and forced her to duel. The girl was often weak but not once did she give in. She'd rather lose a pound of flesh than give an ounce of satisfaction.
"Pathetic. Is this how Mudbloods fight? Lying down?"
The woman's cloak billowed behind her as she made her way over to the crouching girl.
"I told you to get up!" Grabbing Hermione's shoulders, Bellatrix forced the brunette to her feet and thrusted the wand back into her hands. Unlike the Gryffindor, the Death Eater had not broken a sweat. Her head was shielded by her cloak's dark hood and she moved with both grace and agility as she duelled.
"Again." She ordered, her words slicing through the cool air. "And this time, perfectly."
Resuming her place in the arena, Hermione watched Bellatrix walk the length of the field where she stood expectantly. The brunette was short of breath and her numb fingers made holding her wand during this morning's duel even more challenging. She was frightened, more so than she had ever been in her life. More than Dementors. More than death. This woman had survived both. She could invade Hermione's most private thoughts and manipulate her dreams. There was however, one last chilling fact. When given the chance, the girl would actively seek the Death Eater.
Hermione raised her wand. For someone who had been a prisoner of Azkaban, Bellatrix was strict about the rules and traditions of duelling. The bow, the saluting of wands… However, as a student of Hogwarts, the Gryffindor was not. Before the customary routine was complete, an orange jet flew through the air towards the dark witch. Hermione swore under her breath as the woman sidestepped the spell without effort.
"You have to do better than that Mudblood!"
Bellatrix yelled, firing spell after spell until Hermione's knees gave way. The action had infuriated her. It wasn't even fun anymore, this whole 'preparations' ordeal Narcissa had cornered her into was just an irritating chore – a demeaning baby-sitter position. Flicking her wand, she turned to leave towards the house.
"I'm not even going to waste my time on you anymore. You can die out here for all I care!"
So that's it then? That didn't take much, you stupid cow!
It took Hermione a moment to realise that she had in fact screamed aloud her thoughts. For the past few days her silence had been deafening; now, her whispers were as loud as war drums as she met the hollow eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Lookie here, the pussy has found her meow."
The older woman sniggered, pacing back to her opponent.
"I almost forgot how sweet it sounded," a crooked wand was thrust into the soft underside of Hermione's jaw. "If you ever ignore me like that again Muddy, I will cut out your tongue. Capiche?"
O~O~O
By the time Bellatrix had wiped her face clean from saliva, Hermione had stopped convulsing from the unforgivable curse.
"You have brought a whole new meaning to filthy Mudblood." No one ever dared to spit at her – that was not how pureblood families settled arguments – then again, this frizzy-haired bitch was muggle-born. Her vulgarity simply proved her lack of class. "You need to be taught a lesson."
"What more can you do to me?" The girl's voice was short of breath. "What more can you do to me!" She repeated louder. Hermione's heart thudded in her chest and tears pricked her eyes but her voice remained strong. "Nothing. That's what. There's nothing left!"
"What more can I do to you?" Bellatrix chuckled, throwing Hermione off guard. "Typical Gryffindor." Rolling her eyes and pinching the brunette's cheeks. "I suppose you think you're the heroine of this little adventure? A damsel in distress perhaps?"
Hermione slapped away the woman's hands – who in turn struck her back across the face with twice the force.
"What more can I do to you? What more can you do to Narcissa?"
Bellatrix's expression darkened as Hermione looked up at her confused. The girl's eyes, once scowling, were now wide with concern.
"Brightest witch of your age…"
"Where is she?"
"…and you're too dense to work it out."
"I want to see Narcissa!"
The dark witch was seething. She dare address her sister with such informalities?
"My sister only sees perfection. Let me know when you figure it out." Snatching the wand from Hermione's hand, Bellatrix disapparated into shadows.
O~O~O
As always, Hermione made her way back to the manor alone. Escape was not an option – she had already tried scaling the hedges that surrounded the gardens. Without her wand, she was defenceless against the flora which came to life like Devil's Snare, slowly dragging her deeper into its foliage. If Bellatrix hadn't seen the coat on the ground that day, Hermione would have caught pneumonia, or worse, asphyxiated. The young Gryffindor could remember the look in the dark witch's eyes as she was dragged free and wrapped in the woman's cloak, exposing Bellatrix to the elements. Her appreciation had been silenced by a swift punch in the guts. Whatever it was Hermione saw in the Death Eater's face, she had never seen it since.
Lutin was there to greet Hermione at the door. He had been warned explicitly never to divulge any information about the Vow and rejected the brunette's pleas. The house elf took the girl's overcoats and handed her a mug of hot water – the only beverage he had been instructed to offer. Hermione accepted it graciously – using the ceramic to bring her fingers back to life. Lutin had been quite the life saver. After duelling, Hermione was often at her lowest – Bellatrix possessed a myriad of colourful insults and spells which weighed on the girl physically and emotionally. Lutin was always there to pick her up and on occasion, make her smile. He was the one person the Gryffindor wanted to see – well, there was another however she hadn't been seen since the night Hermione arrived.
"Lutin? Where is Narcissa?" The brunette rested the mug inches under her face to allow the steam to warm her.
The house elf thought carefully.
"Mistress is busy. Very, very busy."
"Busy with what?" She quizzed.
"Mistress has her private affairs. Lutin knows nothing more. Does Miss Granger enjoy her drink?"
Hermione knitted her brows, knowing all too well there was more to the story.
"Is she in the mansion now?"
"Mistress comes and goes for meals. Mistress is very, very busy she is."
Hermione searched for the grandfather clock in the room. It was only 9:34am. If Narcissa had returned for breakfast, they would have missed each other while she was duelling Bellatrix.
"Miss Granger looks tired. She must rest before Mistress' sister returns."
The brunette sighed into her drink.
"I don't want to do this anymore, Lutin. Every day that…thing makes me fight her. I can't compete with a Death Eater…certainly not when I'm at my weakest…" She rubbed her neck where it had be scratched red raw. "She forgot to relieve the pain again…"
"Madame LeStrange never forgets. Miss Granger must try harder for her sake." At that moment the house elf stood to attention, his ears alert as if being called. "Lutin must go. Miss Granger must rest now. Maybe with a book?" Taking a tray off the table, Lutin disapperated with a china teapot and two cups.
Hermione sat down in one of the leather sofas with an advanced spell book by her side. She had been given access to the first floor's library to pass the time. Lutin had presented her a mountain of books, much to the girl's delight. However she could never make it past the first chapter as she was often too tired for much else. The brunette flicked though some of the pages, distracting herself from the familiar ache that was rapidly returning. As much as Hermione hated the thought of being anywhere near Bellatrix, the pain often subsided when they were together. When she found herself alone, her mind frequently thought of the woman clad in black – both dreading and praying that she would materialise by her side.
The young witch concentrated harder on the pages in front of her – pushing the image of Bellatrix touching her face out of her mind – feeling her stomach churn at the very thought. Many of the paragraphs had notes beside them, scribbled in faded ink. Hermione could just make out the words – they were instructions, similar to Harry's Potion textbook. As the brunette flicked through the pages, the directions became more detailed and resembled the Dark Arts rather than Charms – ranging from the specific angle at which a wand should be held to unimaginable torture. Hermione returned to the beginning of the book. Something written had been crossed out on the title page, however just above it were the cursive initials 'N.B'. Hermione held the book a little closer and began reading the first chapter, taking in the basic instructions. Without a wand it was impossible to judge if what she was doing was correct but nonetheless she practiced holding a quill the way the notes described.
O~O~O
"I didn't ask for this, Narcissa!"
"Well nor did I, Bellatrix. Lower your voice…the Mudblood will hear you with the way you're carrying on. Honestly."
In a standoff, both women blocked each other's way. The eldest – the front door, and the younger - the library.
"Rich coming from you, sister. When will you let it go? Every year you're like this." Bellatrix hissed.
"Then give me a reason not to be." The blonde retorted, clenching her fists until her knuckles whitened.
"You can't can you? Because you snatch everyone I love away from me. And when I thought I could hold on to one thing, my son, your nephew, you dragged him into this mess. Don't even get me started on that girl…"
"The Mudblood can't even duel! She's useless to us."
Narcissa shook her head, bewildered by her sister's absurdity. "Think again, Bellatrix. In case you have forgotten, three lives hang in the balance."
"I haven't forgotten, Cissy." The Death Eater closed the gap between them, forcing their fingers to intertwine. The younger sister winced at the pain as her digits were harshly bent backwards. "Don't be like this, Cissy." The dark witch pouted, her voice neither accommodating sympathy nor tenderness. "Ditch your little princess for today and play hooky with me."
Freeing her hand, Narcissa removed herself from her sister's grasp. Her expression distant and unforgiving. "I want you gone. Tonight." Squaring her shoulders, the lady of the manor turned on her heel and went to answer the door.
O~O~O
"Get up Mudblood."
Hermione pretended to awake from a deep sleep. A sinkhole of guilt had opened in the pit of her stomach since overhearing the women's dispute. She felt sick as she replayed the conversation in her head.
Your lives rest on the blade of a knife now, all because of her…I know what's best for you and Draco. I keep all three of you alive. Remember that, Cissy!...What previous involvement? I didn't even know her, Bella. I never wanted this to happen to me, I only wanted to keep Draco safe…
"I suppose you think you're the heroine of this little adventure? A damsel in distress perhaps?...What more can I do to you? What more can you do to Narcissa?"
Hermione was lost for words. Sweat developed on her brow as she took in the Death Eater's words. Out of all the people on Earth, it took a psychotic murderess to make her question if she, Hermione Granger, was actually the bad guy this time.
Opening her eyes, she saw Bellatrix standing above her, the spell book resting open in her fingers. It had been decades since she had laid eyes on her old work – it was a surprise to her that Cissy had kept it all these years. Her school days were full of experimentation – surpassing her peers, a young Bellatrix deviated from the curricula – often paddling in the waters of the dark arts. These pages empowered a daughter that should have been born a son. They split her soul; and Cissy would never forgive her for killing their Father – sweet, naïve Narcissa.
"Ahem."
Bellatrix looked up from the textbook to see Hermione standing in front of her. The girl had only cleared her throat but she immediately saw her mistake and dropped her eyes to the floor.
"What?" The woman quizzed angrily, snapping the book shut. "Don't think that 'cause you're now talking that you can start getting cocky, Mudblood. Though to be fair…you don't seem too keen on getting cock, do you?" Laughing aloud, she threw the text on the ground in front of her. Hermione rolled her eyes and bent down to pick it up. It was one of the less crude 'jokes' the Death Eater had made today.
The brunette was stopped by a boot digging into her shoulder.
"Mmm, yes." The dark witch purred, "You look so much better on your hands and knees." Gripping a tuft of chestnut hair she forced Hermione to look at her. "Are you hungry, Muddy?" The seduction in the Death Eater's voice barely masked her irritation. She hated the days leading up to the New Year and she needed to blow off some steam.
Hermione's face flushed as she shook her head, grimacing as she felt some of her hair break away from her scalp.
"Too bad." She smiled wickedly, burrowing her heel deeper into the pocket of the girl's clavicle.
"Poor little Mudblood." The woman mocked, sliding her free hand down her leg to hike up her dress "All those nights you spent dreaming about her screaming your name, Gratcher. But she hasn't been the only one on your mind, has she?"
Gratcher?
Hermione looked up at the dark witch, she was unable to hide her humiliation as tears pierced her eyes. She was irate. These past three days Bellatrix had broken her down and she didn't even know whose life she was ruining?
"Granger...It's Granger! How could you not have known!" It was difficult for her words to escape from a kneeling position. To be nothing, a nobody...this probably hurt the Gryffindor more than any other cards the woman had dealt her.
"Don't flatter yourself, girlie." Kicking the brunette backwards, Bellatrix paced herself towards the adolescent "You're yet to impress me. For now, you're hardly worth remembering."
Hermione's arms were pinned under the strength of the Death Eater who had straddled her. The dark witch took great pleasure in watching the girl struggle, pleading for the woman to get off.
"Come now, Muddy," resting her knife's blade against the Gryffindor's cheek, hushing her protests into a whimper. She spoke into the bruises of her collarbone, watching with fascination as they already began to resemble the colour of plums. "It burdens you, doesn't it?" Hermione yelped as the dagger's handle twisted into the tender parts of her neck. "To realise that your perfection only equates to a Pureblood's mediocrity."
"Get off!" The attempts were futile against the dark witch, who ground herself against each kick the girl made.
The poisonous tip of the Death Eater's tongue traced the shell of Hermione's ear, whispering tenderness and lies. "I want to make you perfect. My perfection." Trailing the blade between the brunette's breasts, the knife divided her shirt into two with one long movement.
Hermione's face burned, her breath shallow to avoid the tip of the blade that rested just above her left breast. Not again, she didn't want to be gored by the magical weapon. Her abdomen had healed unnaturally fast but the ache remained, it always did. There was nowhere that didn't. She shuddered as the Death Eater unwrapped her like a greedy child on Christmas morning.
"What fantasy shall we make come true, Granger?" The last two syllables fell off her tongue as if they were the most revolting sounds in the English language. "The one where you do what I say? Or the one where you're driven to end it all?"
"The only thing that'll be ending is your life!"
Hermione turned her head to avoid the Death Eater's lips. Her stomach churned and she shut her eyes as she felt the woman tongue at her jugular before sucking hard.
"Mmm that's the spirit, Muddy."
The grip around her wrists lessened and upon instinct Hermione threw herself at the raven haired witch. Throwing all her strength behind herself to inflict any sort of damage to the woman that made her feel so much resentment. Scratching, punching, kicking.
A shriek echoed around the library and Hermione dropped to the floor into the foetal position, whimpering. She clutched her neck with one hand and dug her fingers into her temple with the other. Winning was all too easy for the woman who held so much control.
"Make it stop! Make it stop!" She screamed at the sadist who stood above her, biting her lip.
"But it feels so good when you hate me so bad, my little lioness. Let me see your claws, bare your teeth!"
Hermione's head spun in confusion. She felt the hatred in her heart but pleasing the raven haired witch was the last thing she wanted.
Bellatrix took a seat on the leather sofa, watching with content as the helpless display withered in front of her.
"Look at me, Muddy."
Hermione shook her head and kept her eyes to the ground, closed tight.
"Look at me!"
With a flick of her wand, the brunette's head shot up and her eyes opened to find the raven woman with her legs wide. Her signature dress was up around her knees and her long fingers played with her wet cunt under her knickers.
"How much do you hate me?" She moaned softly, sliding two fingers into herself.
"What? Fuck! You're sick, LeStrange!" Hermione yelled out as loud as she could muster.
The woman chuckled. She straightened up and walked over to the crouching brunette. She felt Him calling. He had been waiting for too long now. It was time to go. But not before she wiped her fingers across the Gryffindor's lips.
"Tut, tut. Your filthy mouth will get you into a lot of trouble one of these days, Muddy." Digging her nail into Hermione's fresh neck wounds.
A simple pop, and the woman was gone. The library silent. And Hermione left to hold herself together.
O~O~O
The crunch of snow was crisp under boots. Hermione inhaled deeply as fresh air filled her lungs. The grounds of the manor were forever blanketed under a sheet of frost from the grass to the hedges to the fountains. A borrowed coat warmed her – the fabric providing comfort.
There was no question about the decision she had made as she lay on the floor of the library only a couple of hours ago. She could either allow Bellatrix to break her or she could beat her at her own sport. There would be no mercy shown to a Muggle-born in a Pureblood world. The very least she could do was learn how to defend herself. Giving in was not an option.
Filling a scarf with snow, the Gryffindor wrapped it around her neck tightly to numb the curse.
Under her arm she carried the Charms textbook. Bellatrix had purposely left Hermione's wand between some random chapters. A test of character you may call it. If she came back to find the girl dead, she would have some satisfaction knowing in advance that the Mudblood would never have lasted to uphold her end of the vow.
Hermione turned to the first chapter, coordinating the book and her wand in both hands. Following the same instructions as she had done with the quill, she held her wand at forty-two degrees to cast a defensive spell. After some deliberation she chose the Patronus.
If anything else, I'm in need of a happy thought.
She concentrated on the world before the Manor. Her summer vacation to France with her parents…Harry and Ron at Hagrid's...the moment she found out that she was a witch…old parchment…Hogwarts…peppermint…lavender…the stolen photograph…
"No, no, no!" She cried out in frustration. "It's not enough!"
From her bedroom window, Narcissa had been supervising with great interest; watching the figure persevering yet struggling nonetheless. The matriarch stood with immaculate posture, her arms folded across her chest. She admired the Mudblood's determination despite the afternoon she had spent with her deranged sister. The blonde had required the use of a silencing charm to drown out the disturbance while she dealt with her guest.
Turning the page, Hermione shook off the failure and concentrated on another instruction. This time, an aggressive spell. She positioned her wand at sixty-three degrees, just like how the notes instructed.
"Incendio!"
The girl was taken aback by the strength of her spell as she applied her newly equipped techniques. A fireball collided with the snow, melting the icy ground. Steam gushed from the earth beneath the ball of flames before it extinguished – leaving behind a small crater at her feet.
Hermione's eyes were wide as she examined the damage. She cast another at her usual angle to compare – it wasn't nearly as effective. Her heart beat excitedly, eager to retry.
Narcissa was equally surprised. She hadn't expected the young witch to show much potential; even now Draco continued to struggle with the accuracy of the wand's position. She watched on intrigued as the girl worked through nearly the first chapter without much difficulty.
It's still early days. You have so much to learn and time is not on your side.
At that moment, this weak confidence was sufficient to ease the blonde's concern.
Hermione felt invigorated with her new purpose. Every technique she mastered improved her spells tenfold. She began to fall into that trance – the one where her thirst for knowledge cannot be quenched. These newfound skills lit a fire within her. She now understood what the dark witch meant by perfection. She desired it for herself. Bellatrix was not fear. She was a tool, a chance, to hone Hermione's own abilities - a way, she thought, to help Harry.
"I don't suppose you are going to restore my garden, Miss Granger?"
Hermione dropped the book in surprise, turning to see Narcissa standing behind her. She was robed in a white, double-breasted coat and her hair was down, framing her face. The woman exchanged a warm smile as she walked past the younger witch to retrieve the fallen text.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry…" she rushed, casting a renewal charm to repair the surrounding area. It had felt like a life time since she last spoke to the lady in white. She quickly became flustered – not knowing which angle to hold the wand.
"Here," the blonde offered, running her fingers down the length of Hermione's arm, Narcissa guided the brunette's wand wielding hand "you can hold it as you please. It's not a duelling spell. But personally, I do prefer a simple eighty degrees, myself."
She stepped back slightly, allowing the girl to finish the job as she flicked through the pages. How many hours she spent obsessing over Bella's work. No matter how much she scrutinised the pages, she could never find her answers. It only got worse when her sister left home. But she promised her that she would learn each page by heart. She promised perfection.
Narcissa put her hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"I will get the elves to see to this later. Why don't you come inside with me?" she gave the brunette a smile, linking their arms.
The younger witch reddened, biting her lower lip to contain a smile. Narcissa led Hermione to the Manor's library– perhaps the last place she wanted to return to – and welcomed her to sit down on a leather sofa, thankfully, one that was in the opposite wing. Lutin was already there waiting with a china tea set balanced on a silver platter. Narcissa dismissed the house elf, instructing him not to disturb them.
"Apologises for my sister's actions," the click of a door locking sounded as the woman walked over to join Hermione "if I had known what was going on I would have put an end to it." She lied, looking at the brunette over her cup.
Hermione suddenly felt sick as she remembered Bellatrix's knife against her skin.
"I understand it's something you would choose to forget but it is important that you realise that although my sister at times can be…callous, it is under my instruction that she will aid you in fulfilling your part of the Vow."
Hermione listened carefully, nodding into her cup.
"You have chosen life, Miss Granger," the woman placed her hand on the brunette's knee "it's my intention that you achieve this outcome. I will speak to her. As a guest in my home I would feel better knowing you're accommodated to."
The Gryffindor felt lightheaded. This morning had exhausted her but it was a mix of Narcissa's tenderness and reassurance overwhelmed her. She had missed the feeling of being cared for.
"I had no idea that I had been doing it wrong all this time…" she mumbled, embarrassed.
"It's something the curriculum nowadays overlooks. Schools spend less time on quality and more on quantity. The world is going backwards." Narcissa sighed, rubbing her thumb against Hermione's jeans.
"W-will I return to school?"
"Of course. There's nothing more important than an education. Consider your future visits here as extracurricular tuition."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, her face reddening as the woman applied additional pressure.
"Let me help you with that."
Narcissa put down her cup and moved closer to Hermione so they were hip-to-hip on the sofa, the brunette pushed against the arm of the chair. The blonde leaned over the girl, loosening the belt of Hermione's coat.
"Oh," she exclaimed, examining the rosy bite on the girl's neck. "You must have done something to deserve this…" she quizzed, removing the coat a bit more bitterly.
"Please don't trouble yourself..."
Hermione was unable to hide her scarlet cheeks as slender fingers undid her buttons. What lay underneath ignited Narcissa's jealousy – Hermione's shirt had been magically repaired but she knew all too well that Bellatrix had, had something to do with its ruin.
"Do you know that you missed Christmas?" changing the subject, keeping her composure steady.
The brunette shook her head, forgetting all about the holiday season.
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Miss Granger."
Narcissa watched Hermione finish her tea. She had considered the consequences of her staying too long in the Manor. Psychologically, the girl needed a break from what would become her new life. She needed her sister's expertise however there was no way Narcissa could tame the beast inside Bellatrix without constant supervision. The woman couldn't afford for her last chance to fail so soon. Especially before she got her revenge. Then there was the Dark Lord who required her home. If he knew that Narcissa was harbouring a Mudblood, Potter's Mudblood, there would be no forgiveness. The girl needed an alias.
Hermione could feel the woman's eyes on her. She stole a glance, wondering if the lady was thinking about her as much as the Gryffindor was about the lady.
There was a hesitant rap at the door and the two figures simultaneously turned their heads.
"Enter." Narcissa ordered. Unlocking the door, she contained her annoyance for the disturbance.
Lutin apparated inside. He recoiled as he saw the look in his mistress' eyes.
"You best have a good excuse, elf." She smiled with faux sweetness.
"Mistress, Mademoiselle Josette Farlorne is here."
Narcissa rubbed her temples, using all her self-control to not lash out at the house elf.
"Didn't you send an owl saying that I would see her next week?"
Hermione looked from the woman to the elf as if the conversation was a game of tennis. There had been a number of girls, roughly her age or a few years older, that frequented the manor. She often heard them come and go – and Bellatrix had made reference to them as 'princesses' whatever that meant. Some didn't even stay long enough for a cup of tea, others – their visits were much more extended.
"Lutin did, Mistress. Lutin promises. Lord Farlorne is with her."
Narcissa's eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
Why didn't you tell me that first you useless elf!
"Very well." Straightening up she looked to Hermione whose brows furrowed with questions. "I'd like you to have supper with me." The woman said matter-of-factly. "Seven? Lutin, see that Miss Granger is tended to. Refreshments, a bath, some new clothes. Whatever she likes. Now, if you'd excuse me."
Turning on her heel, the blonde left briskly.
O~O~O
It was nightfall by the time Hermione awoke. The ambience in the library was calm and she felt more relaxed after a peaceful afternoon with Lutin. In between chores, he took his turn to play wizards chess with Hermione. The concept was so alien to him; being seen as an equal by a witch. Was this how Dobby felt around Harry Potter? Hermione had enjoyed the most part of her day. After a bath and something substantial in her belly, she felt more at ease in the Manor. She instantly reddened as she remembered Narcissa's invitation. Hermione recalled the gentle caresses of the blonde, her lavender scented perfume and the regal looks both she and Bellatrix shared.
Bellatrix.
In the eyes of Hermione, that woman was a Siren. A serpentine temptress whose presence was equalling entrancing as it was dangerous. A sadist who Hermione could not keep her distance from. When the pain got all too much, Bellatrix was there to take it away. She was the inflictor of suffering and the bearer of pleasure; and it was all too sickening to think about.
"I want to make you perfect. My perfection."
Hermione would aim for perfection – but she would never be hers. Undoubtedly, Bellatrix had her own unique magnetism. There was a fetish for precision and knowledge that rivalled the Gryffindor's. Without her animalism, the young witch imagined the woman could have accomplished things far greater than becoming Voldemort's puppet.
Hermione retraced her steps through the expansive house, tiptoeing as she passed doorways. This was Malfoy Manor after all; it would be naïve to assume that only immediate family walked these corridors.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Hermione turned her head to see Bellatrix looking down at her from the second story bannister. She had never seen the dark witch look so tired. Her curls were pulled back into a messy ponytail and she cradled a wine glass that appeared to contain something stronger than grapes.
"The dining room?" The brunette pointed to the double doors across the hall.
"Do you have a written invitation?"
Hermione shook her head, somewhat confused why she would need a formal letter.
"VIPs only." She teased, drinking from her glass.
The brunette rolled her eyes, remembering Bellatrix for what she was – a wicked, spoilt Pureblood. Acting as if she didn't care, Hermione walked over to the double doors. As she reached for the handle she immediately pulled away. The brass knobs felt like they had been resting in hot coals.
"Do you really think I'm going to let you attend supper dressed like that?" She insulted, pointing her wand at Hermione's clothes. "Cissy will have a fit."
Hermione glared up at the witch who swirled the dark liquid in her glass.
"It's not like I have spare ball gown that I can change into." Hermione shot back sarcastically.
Tipping her head back, Bellatrix downed what was left and rested the crystal on the railing. Finally, the Mudblood showed some fight again.
"Come with me." Bellatrix signalled and disappeared across the landing.
Hermione was apprehensive to follow but she found her feet bounding up the stairs to keep pace with the woman who had vanished from sight. It was her second time that she had been on this floor and as she peered into each room she noticed that each one was uniquely furnished with posh antiques and traditionally styled hangings.
After the fifth doorway she found Bellatrix in a bedroom like no other she had passed. The room was expansive yet the fixtures were simple. On one side of the room, Bellatrix was rummaging in a handcrafted wardrobe.
Hermione stepped inside quietly so not to draw attention to herself. She walked over to a bookcase and ran her fingers along their spines. They were all hardcover books, each protected by dyed leather casings. Many of them she did not know as they covered forbidden magic but there was one that caught her eye – a spine with a symbol engraved in golden ink. It was simple, just a triangle with two semicircles drawn inside. The thought of Bellatrix reading for pleasure both amused and fascinated the girl. Which authors does she read? Are any fiction? Does she take a book when she travels?
The brunette paced herself, looking at every trinket on the vanity table beside the bookcase. There was only one photograph – the stolen frame from Slughorn's house. It had been many weeks since Hermione had last seen it. Her heart beat fast as she gazed upon Narcissa in her adolescence. The young pureblood stood as proudly as ever, her eldest sister's hand placed discreetly on her waist.
"Beautiful isn't she?"
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Bellatrix standing behind her in the reflection of the mirror. Her face burned, embarrassed to be caught.
"Isn't she?" The woman repeated.
Hermione shrugged "She's pretty."
Bellatrix cornered Hermione into the table.
"Pretty is what you call the scarf your grandmother knits you. Pretty is the French braid your stupid school friends do. Narcissa is many things but she is not pretty." Their eyes met briefly before the brunette turned away. Hermione knew Bellatrix was right. Why she kept denying it was another mystery altogether.
"Tell me, Muddy, does your boyfriend know that you prefer the fairer sex?"
I'm still working it out… she admitted to herself, aware that the woman could read her thoughts.
Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow, watching Hermione closely in the mirror.
"…and Ron isn't my boyfriend!" she added defensively.
"Of course he isn't," she cooed. Slender fingers brushed against pockets of flesh, neither withdrawing nor inflicting pain. The girl leaned into the forbidden touch – this is what she wanted, this is why she had climbed the stairs - relief. The breath of the woman was sweet from mead and peppermint and Hermione fought herself to not give into her senses. The Death Eater stared intensely into young witch's eyes as she spoke "who could ever love a Mudblood?"
Words sliced deep. Hermione suddenly felt sick being near the raven haired witch, shouldering her away.
"And who could ever love a deranged, psychopathic wench!" Slapping away the Death Eater's hands.
There it was, the Mudblood's passionate anger. She craved it. It's what kept her up at night. With an index finger, Bellatrix turned Hermione's chin so that they were now face to face.
"I can name one."
Flicking Hermione's nose, Bellatrix chuckled to herself as she walked over to the bed where a blue dress, which could easily be mistaken for black, had been lain out.
Hermione growled, the dark witch was successful at getting under her skin.
"It feels so good when you hate me so bad"
As far as the Gryffindor was concerned, showing affection to get back at the Death Eater was an oxymoron in itself.
"Put this on. It's better than anything you own."
Hermione took it without a word and held it in front of her. It was beautiful. Simple, floor-length with a sweetheart neckline. The material was unlike any the girl had ever seen – it was silky yet seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. She couldn't help a smile as she stared at herself in the mirror.
"Thank you."
Bellatrix took a seat on the edge of the bed, returning the smile. "Put it on."
Hermione beamed, gathering the dress to go to the bathroom.
"Tut, tut." The bedroom door slammed in her face and locked itself upon Bellatrix's command. "Put it on, here."
The Gryffindor withdrew her own wand and pointed it at the Death Eater. Eager for an opportunity to re-duel - more confident now knowing that another witch in the house was on her side.
"Make me."
"Stop with the act, Muddy." Disarming the girl with a silent Expelliarmus, "You're not half as brave as you think. And you don't think half as much as you should. Even if you lived nine lives, that dress would still be worth more than you. Now you can either miss your date or you can get ready for it." Losing her patience.
Hermione turned around so her back was facing the older witch, cursing her. As fast as she could she removed her blouse and jeans.
"What's the hurry? I like a slow show." Bellatrix called out, hungrily staring after the girl as she clothed herself with the dress.
Hermione ignored her voyeur and walked over to the mirror, admiring herself as she swished the material from side to side. It fit perfectly. Is this really what one wore to a casual supper at the Malfoy's?
The dark witch had crept up behind her without notice. "One last thing." Placing her hand around the girl's throat, she squeezed tightly, oblivious to desperate fingernails clawing at her hands to stop. It pained the girl, feeling her skin split and contract. When she released, Hermione's neck had returned to normal – completely without blemish. Weeks of scores fading within seconds.
"Enjoy your supper."
Throwing some belongings into the fireplace, Bellatrix grabbed a handful of floo powder and vanished with a bang without looking back.
I suppose the biggest challenge is not rushing the relationships of the characters. Often I read fics and protagonist and antagonist fall in love so quickly it's crazy (sometimes it's fun and works! But if you're stabbed it's hard to believe you'll be head over heels for them the next day). If I failed here, constructive criticism is most appreciated. A lot happened in one day. Future chapters won't be a day-to-day account.