Hermione had no idea for how long she'd been standing there watching the slumped and drenched back of the probably most dangerous woman alive. Only a few metres separated the two. The heavy rain kept relentlessly prattling onto her umbrella, each drop sounding as loud as a drumbeat to the girl. It was a miracle that Bellatrix hadn't noticed her yet.

Hermione cursed herself for stopping. She wanted so bad to close the remaining distance, had been so determined to confront the dark witch when she stepped outside the safety of her house. But the farther she got, the slower she walked. Something in the back of her mind dragged her down and eventually brought her to a full stop, froze her feet to the ground.

So many thoughts of the past seven days rushed through her head.
The sheer terror she'd felt, when she'd first spotted Bellatrix on the sidewalk and the sleepless nights that had followed.
The hopelessness of not being able to reach Jonathan, when she'd needed his advice and her confusion when she'd learned that he had wiped himself from the memories of his own receptionist.
The almost unbearable panic, that Bellatrix could attack her parents any given time after their return from some medical convention and the utter disbelief, when they'd told her about the wonderfully pleasant conversation they'd had with the witch, and of her rejection to their invitation to come inside.

That had marked the moment of her fear taking a backseat to her curiosity. She'd started wondering for what reason the vampiress had come here, if not to find her or drink her blood. She'd caught herself looking out the window more often than before, checking if Bellatrix was still there; but now, not in hope she'd left, but that she had not.

It was surreal.
Whenever the two of them had caught a glimpse of each other through the window, whenever their eyes had met, Hermione had felt the urge to reach out to her, ask her what she wanted. But the fear in the back of her mind still remained, had pinned her to the ground.

What finally had pushed her over the edge of leaving her house into the pouring rain to face her greatest terror, was a letter from Jonathan she'd received this morning.

Dear Hermione,

good news!
Your blood-tests turned out great – medically speaking, you're perfectly fine.
Unfortunately, it gave me no clue whatsoever as to why Bellatrix has it out for you. I'll need more time to figure that out.
Speaking of Bellatrix, I have a confession to make. I kind of told her where to find you.
I'm very sorry.
I've had a very interesting conversation with her and think you could maybe benefit from each other.
However, it's up to you to decide.
If you want her gone, just give me a reply and I'll come by to dispose of her.
But I strongly suggest talking to her – might just be worth your while.

All the best
Dr. Jonathan Strauss

As upset as she was over the fact that Jonathan, who had even given her tips as how to avoid getting found by Bellatrix, had actually been the one to send the vampire her way, it was the last line of the letter that stuck with her the most.
What could he have been talking to her about? Why would it be beneficial if she had a talk with her too?
The questions almost drove her mad with curiosity.

She took a deep breath …
"Be brave, Hermione!"
… and started walking.

As soon as Hermione had reached the dark witch and shielded her from the rain, Bellatrix stirred; first she looked up to the umbrella, then turned around to face her.

'What are you doing here?'
'What do you want?'
'Why me?'
The questions she had laid out in her mind were instantly wiped away as the vampiress' piercing golden eyes met her own.
Her body tensed up; her mind blanked out.
Completely at a loss and just wanting to end this awkward moment, Hermione blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"A-Aren't you cold?"
She could have slapped herself.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow on her, scrutinizing.
Hermione held her breath, captivated by the golden irises in front of her, which seemed to have a strangely soothing effect on her.

Hypnosis! she reminded herself and quickly averted her eyes.

"You really are too kind for your own good," Bellatrix said with an overly dramatic sigh.

Hermione furrowed her brows.
… What?

"You know who I am. You know what I am. And yet you come out here, approaching me as if it was nothing," the dark witch continued and shot her a stern look, "what were you thinking?"

"I, uh …"

"What if I were here to kill you? Would you be able to defend yourself? Would you be able to escape me?" the vampiress went on, glaring at the girl expectantly.

"N-No," was all she could say to that and looked down, blushing in shame.

Bellatrix gave a mirthless laugh.
"And people say I'm deranged."
She shook her head for emphasis, appearing almost disappointed.

Hermione was dumbstruck. Of all the things she could've imagined Bellatrix doing to her, the possibility of receiving a reprimand for her reckless behaviour would've never crossed her mind. Not knowing what to do or say, the brunette simply remained standing there, awkwardly and confused, looking everywhere but at the woman in front of her.

But her eyes snapped back to Bellatrix when she suddenly stood up. Hermione stumbled backwards but quickly readjusted herself to keep the umbrella over both of them. Only a few centimetres now separated the pair, the younger blushing again under the intense gaze of the older.

"I don't get cold. Not since I … changed."
She said it as if she didn't care, but the pause in the middle made it clear that she hadn't really come to terms with what had happened yet.

Hermione's eyes widened and started to sparkle with excitement. She had just learned brand new information about vampires. Her grin must have been comically wide, since Bellatrix regarded her with a strange look.

The teenager forced herself to calm down and lowered her head again, what brought the vampiress' soaked clothes to her attention.
Bracing herself and putting on what she hoped was a casual smile she looked back up.

Bellatrix raised a brow again, obviously suspicious of her.

Hermione took a deep breath.
"But even if you don't get cold, I can't imagine wearing wet clothes to be comfortable."
The girl closed her eyes shortly and gulped down the lump in her throat.
Is that really a good idea?
"So, why don't you come inside, change into something dry, maybe take a shower and then we can … talk?"

There was no immediate reaction. For several painfully long seconds Bellatrix just blatantly stared at her.
Hermione's nerves started to act up again, making her body tremble slightly.
But then a smirk creped its way onto the vampiress' lips.

"Lead the way, then, dear."

"Up the stairs, first door on your right."

As soon as she got the directions, Bellatrix pelted up to the first floor, rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Breathing heavily, she leaned against it and slid down onto the floor, hugging her knees tightly.

Being close to Hermione was hard – very hard. Outside, the rain had served to mostly veil the girl's scent. But as soon as they got inside it hit her in full force. The vampiress hadn't had blood in over a week and taking a waft of the brunette's alluring odour almost drove her mad.

"Get yourself together!" she reprimanded herself, growling darkly. She had to endure it, couldn't give in to her desires. If Bellatrix wanted to have her blood, it would have to be with the girl's consent. Until then, she'd have to make do someway else. Attacking Hermione would mean to eliminate any and all chances of allying with the Potter boy and Dumbledore. That, she couldn't let happen. She needed them to stand a chance against Voldemort, as much as she hated to admit it.

Taking a deep breath and with renewed determination the witch pushed herself up from the floor, shed her drenched clothes and stepped into the shower, turning on the water on the coldest possible setting. The freezing cascade served to clear her mind, calm her down, and wash away the dirt and hardships of the past few weeks.

It felt great.

She didn't know how long she remained in her icy bliss, but when she stepped out of the shower, she felt more refreshed and alive than she had in a very long time.

As she dried herself off with a towel, she was reminded just how tedious this process was without magic on hand – or a servant.
She sighed deeply. What she'd give to have Binny around right now.
But she'd have to make do like this for now, she mused.

Sighing again Bellatrix continued in her task but soon stopped in her tracks once more when she turned towards the mirror to start working on her hair. Taken aback, she stared into the bathroom's reflection, her own image nowhere to be found.
Another groan escaped her throat as her head sunk.

Right. Vampire.
She'd totally forgotten.

The frustrated screech that followed would have put even the nastiest banshee to shame. Her arm lashed out, knocking over some tubes and bottles standing around. She leaned onto the basin, breathing heavily, and clenched her teeth, trying her hardest to hold back angry tears.

A timid knock on the door a regular person might have missed caught her attention.

"Are … are you alright?" the girl's voice asked hesitantly.

No! I'm a bloody abomination!
"I'm fine," Bellatrix growled and sighed as she, again, looked at her non-existent reflection.

"Okay … uhm … I set out some clothes for you in the guest room just down the hall. I hope they fit you," Hermione awkwardly continued, what the vampiress only acknowledged with a grunt that, apparently, the girl didn't hear, given the particularly silent seconds that passed before the brunette spoke again, "I'll be waiting downstairs, then."

"Wait!" the dark witch called out imperiously, "I need you in here."
Another few moments passed in complete silence. Bellatrix already assumed that the girl had left despite her demand, when the door finally opened and Hermione stepped inside.

"What can I do for you?"
She was clearly nervous. Her posture was stiff with a slight tremor. But the smile she wore was genuine.

"You have to fix up my hair."
The vampiress turned back to the mirror, sighing pained.
"I can't see myself."

"Yes, of course," the girl said and stepped closer.

Her reflection appeared in the mirror, fully visible, even though part of it should've been blocked from view by Bellatrix' body. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes widened and sparkling with excitement.
She kept looking back and forth between the glass and the vampiress, even touching her shoulder at some point as if to reassure herself that she was actually standing there.

"Fascinating," Hermione breathed in awe, a wide grin forming on her lips.

"Are you done gawking?" Bellatrix cut in sharply, annoyed, and turned around to shoot the girl a glare. Their faces were now only a few centimetres apart.

Startled, Hermione froze again, the exhilarated glimmer in her eyes replaced by one of anxiety.
"I'm sorry," she stammered and turned her head.

A waft of the student's enticing odour hit the dark witch's nose and her eyes trailed down to her alluring neck crook.
She licked her lips hungrily.
Oh, how much she wanted to sink her teeth into that delicate skin; how much she wanted to savour the girl's wonderful flavour.
But, with a determined mind, she steeled herself against her baser instincts and turned the other way.
"Whatever. Just … do my hair, already."

"Right," the girl exclaimed and hastily pulled over a nearby stool, "please sit down."

Bellatrix did as she was told and placed herself regally on the provided seat, watching the brunette through the mirror as she picked up some strange L-shaped device.

"What is that?"

Hermione gave her a queer look.
"It's a hair dryer ...?"

The vampiress raised an eyebrow.
"Why not use your wand?"

"I'm underage," the girl explained, "I'm not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Oh, please," Bellatrix drawled, rolling her eyes, "don't be such a stickler for the rules. They won't sack you for using a drying spell."

The honour student blushed and puffed up her cheeks in an, as Bellatrix found, adorable pout.
"Maybe not," she grumbled, clearly hurt in her pride, what, for some reason, made her even more adorable to the older witch, "but they might notice that you are here."

Bellatrix couldn't quite hear the last few words she'd spoken, since the hair dryer simultaneously blared to life with its horrendous wail.

Ugh!

How anyone could endure this torture for an extended period of time was a mystery to her.

But there was no time to dwell on those thoughts, as the girl's aroma enveloped her once more. Somehow, it was even more intense than only moments ago and again, her senses fully succumbed to the mist of desire that captivated her very being. A bolt of pure ecstasy surged through her body every time the brunette touched her scalp to run her fingers through her hair.
Oh, how much Bellatrix wanted to just pin her against the wall – or the floor – and ram her teeth into her, have her squirm in her grip and moan and whimper in pleasure and fear.

"I'm done now," she heard Hermione say but didn't really register it.
"I'll be waiting downstairs."

She's leaving!

Bellatrix' hand thrashed out and grabbed the girl's wrist. She was breathing heavily, the scent of her prey almost driving her mad.

"L-Let go of me!" Hermione yelled at her, panic clear in her voice, and tried to pull herself free of her iron grip – to no avail, of course.

In one fast motion Bellatrix raised herself from the stool and stood face to face with Hermione. She was pale and her eyes widened in terror; tears had already begun streaming down her cheeks.
With her free hand the vampiress tenderly thumbed away the moist line on her face and leaned in to finally ravish the blood she craved so much.

"NO!"

The sudden scream and push to her chest took her by surprise. She stumbled backwards, dragging the girl along, and tripped over the stool, losing the grip on the other's wrist in the process.
Hermione took the chance to storm out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Bellatrix was sprawled out on the floor gasping for air, trying her hardest to collect herself. She had almost lost herself to her beastly desires, almost let her instincts take over her mind and body. The fear of losing control overwhelmed her again and she started shaking; tears silently fell.

"Damn it," she breathed frustrated, "I'm better than this."

Hermione's heart was pounding in her throat as she leaned on her room's door, her trembling legs barely able to keep her up.

That had been too close for comfort.

Being in the same room as Bellatrix Lestrange was nerve-wracking enough, but that hungry look in her eyes, the eerily golden gleam of her irises and the gradually darkening sclarea had put her in a state of panic.
It had reminded her of the night in the ministry.
A cold shiver ran down her spine and she took in a sharp breath.

"Calm down, Hermione," she told herself, closing her eyes, "that was just her instincts acting up." She took another deep breath. "She's not here to hurt you." Her last words were but a mere whisper, deprived of any confidence. Maybe she should just lock herself up in here, hide away, and hope for the storm to pass.
She shook her head.

No!

With newfound determination, the brunette willed her legs to stop shaking and smacked both her cheeks, before she opened her eyes again and pushed herself off the door.

"Be brave now!"

Hermione took a look around her room and spotted a bottle of perfume on her dressing table. She stepped closer and took the phial in her hand, eyed it curiously.
It was her smell that threw Bellatrix off, what made her beastly instincts take over.
She had to cover it up.
"Alright, then."
The girl shrugged and sprayed away.

After fogging herself with what must have been at least half the bottle, she finally put it back to its place on the table.

Eager to get out of this chemical mist, Hermione turned around and headed for the door, when her wand caught her eye.
Thoughtfully, she picked it up and turned it between her fingers.
She wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, of course – with the exception of life-threatening situations.
Turning her head towards the door, she reminded herself who exactly it was she just let into her home.
After contemplating for another few seconds, she sighed and tucked the wand into her sleeve.

Just in case.

She made her way down to the living room only to find Bellatrix already waiting for her, regally seated on the armchair as if it were a throne.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd never come," the annoyed voice of her guest greeted her; though Hermione believed to hear a slight nuance of relief mixed into it.
"Tell me, is that blasphemous amount of perfume on my account?" the dark witch inquired, lazily propping up her head on her hand.

Hermione walked around the sofa and sat down on it, as far away from Bellatrix as possible, and gave her a timid smile.
"Does it work?"

Bellatrix kept her iron gaze on the brunette and took a deep breath through the nose.
"It helps," she eventually said and leaned back, "albeit only moderately. Your smell is all over the place."

Heat rushed into the brunette's face, burned up her cheeks in embarrassment. As secretively as possible she tilted her head to take a short sniff of herself. Unfortunately, the dark witch had noticed and gave a short cackle.

"It's not bad – on the contrary, even," she said amused and leaned forward, laid her golden eyes on the girl again, "you smell too good."

That made Hermione blush even harder.

"And that's exactly our problem," Bellatrix continued with a sigh, "it's almost driving me crazy."

"Is it really that intense?"

"Yes. It takes me everything not to pounce on you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"But I'm confident I can handle it. That push you gave me earlier really snapped me back."

That brought her blush back. And a distinct feeling of guilt paired with a light fright.

"S-Sorry about that."

"If you hadn't done it, I probably couldn't have held myself back. So, you shouldn't feel sorry," Bellatrix replied with a pointed look.
Hermione could have been mistaken, but she thought to see a sliver of gratitude in the vampiress' eyes.
She gave her a small smile, that faded away just as quickly as it had come, however.

"Wait. You mean you don't want to drink my blood?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Of course, I want to," Bellatrix snorted, a tad aggravated, and moved closer, now sitting on the opposite side of the couch.
Hermione tensed up a little.
"It's all I want ever since I got here. The thought alone of tasting your blood again is so …," the vampire went on, longingly licking her lips. Her eyes shortly darted towards the girl's neck as she leaned towards her.
"… alluring."
It was but a whisper, yet laden with deep desire. Paired with her seductively impish smile, it made the teenager's throat dry up.

"But I can't," the dark witch sighed in the end and retreated, leaning casually against the sofa's armrest and looked the other way, "at least not without your consent."

My consent?

Confused, Hermione stared at the voluminous, black locks in front of her.
She wasn't quite sure what to make of this situation.

Bellatrix Lestrange – the Bellatrix Lestrange– was sitting in her living room, pleasantly chatting her up. She had neither come here to hurt nor to kill her. And, despite the fact that she was a vampire, she also hadn't sought her out to drink her blood – even tried her hardest not to do it, unless she was allowed to.

"What do you want?"

Hermione only realized that she'd asked the question out loud when Bellatrix turned back to her with narrowed eyes. A slight blush of embarrassment once again crept its way onto her cheeks, as she cast her own eyes downward.

"I want to kill the Dark Lord."

The girl's head snapped back up, eyes wide as saucers.
Did she hear that correctly?
Did Bellatrix actually just say that?

"Really?" she only managed to breath incredulously.

Bellatrix gave a single nod.
"Yes."

No way!

She couldn't believe it.
Was she dreaming? Was this actually happening?
Bellatrix Lestrange professing her dissent from Voldemort?
Was that why Dr. Strauss suggested talking to her?
Because she wanted to switch sides?

A bolt of excited glee shot through Hermione's body; her heart beat faster, her eyes began to shine; an exhilarated smile tugged at her lips.
Having a witch of her calibre join the ranks of the Order wouldn't only be a great asset to the cause, but also a fantastic opportunity for Hermione to learn about vampires first-hand.

But as fast as excitement had enraptured her, just as quickly did it drain away.

It was too good to be true.
After all, the person in question was still Bellatrix Lestrange – Death Eater, pureblood-supremacist … murderer.

Dejectedly, the girl's shoulders slumped, her face crestfallen in disappointment.

"But how can I trust you?" she asked in an almost desperate whisper and buried her face in her palms.

"I came here knowing that it won't be easy to gain your trust, that you would most likely reject me after everything that happened," Bellatrix declared in a calm and neutral voice, "but I'll try my hardest to contain my … bloodlust."

"That's not what I meant!" Hermione cut in sharply and threw the raven-haired witch a pointed glare, tears prickling her eyes.
"You are a Death Eater. I know what you have done in the past. The kidnappings, the tortures, the killings. Sirius told us everything."
She clenched her fists and started quivering.
"I …"
She swallowed hard.
"I saw what you did to Neville's parents – the Longbottoms."

If Bellatrix was at all fazed by any of her accusations, she didn't show it. She just sat there, silently staring at the brunette.

"What you did is unforgivable," Hermione continued, her voice breaking, and buried her face in her hands again, not able to hold her tears back any longer, "so, how am I supposed to trust you?"

The room fell silent, the girl's whimpers the only sound echoing from the walls.
It could have only been seconds but it had felt like an eternity before Bellatrix raised her voice.

"I'm not a Death Eater anymore."

Hermione stiffened a bit when she felt the older witch awkwardly put an arm around her, pulling her closer, comforting her.

"And you think this makes everything alright?" she scoffed sarcastically through her sobs, but, despite her retort, leaned into the embrace and bedded her head on the vampiress' shoulder.

"No," Bellatrix admitted and started gently, albeit wooden, stroking her upper arm, "but it's all I can do for now." Her words sounded pressed and strained, as if she had to force herself to say them.

Hermione, however, paid it no mind, wrapped up in her own thoughts about the ridiculousness of her situation. Seriously, if anyone had told her a year, or even a month ago, that she'd one day be sitting in her living room, cuddling it up with Bellatrix Lestrange, she would have deemed them absolutely mental.

Yet here she was, enjoying a cosy snuggle with – essentially – her nemesis.

But was she really her enemy any longer?
Didn't she change; or was at least trying to?

If she really was still a Death Eater, she wouldn't have come here in the first place.
Hermione shifted a little to look at the profile of Bellatrix' stoic face.
If she was still hooked on pure blood supremacy, she would never hold me like this.
She put an arm around the older witch and nestled into the embrace even more.
If she really wanted me dead, I already would be.

She took a deep breath and broke from the hug with a timid 'thank you'.

It was time for some Gryffindor-braveness.
It was time for a leap of faith.

"It's going to be near impossible to convince the Order to accept you," Hermione sighed and threw Bellatrix a weary smile in perspective of the hardships they would surely be facing from now on.

"So, you're going to help me?" Bellatrix asked, clearly surprised, and warily added, "are you sure?"

"No," the girl snorted through a sarcastic laugh, "in fact, I have never been more unsure of anything in my life. There is a plethora of reasons not to trust you and the smartest thing would probably be to call the authorities and have you arrested."

The dark witch shot her a menacing glower.

"But I don't think you would've come here if you weren't serious about fighting 'You-Know-Who'," Hermione continued undeterred and laughed nervously, "or, at least, that's what I hope."
She took another deep breath.
"So, I want to trust you."

Bellatrix' expression softened again and she gave a short chuckle.

"You don't have to trust me," she declared and leaned in closer, "what you can trust in, however, is my rage and desire for revenge."
The dark witches beautiful face was now distorted in anger.
"I did everything for him, devoted my life to him. But he chose to throw me away like garbage, just for becoming this … abomination."
She clicked her tongue, aggravated.
"He is going to pay for that."

Meanwhile, Hermione's ire was sparked as well.
Fiercely, she grabbed onto the vampiress' hands and put on the sternest face she could.
"You are no abomination!"
She moved closer and tightened her grip for emphasis.
"And you are not garbage either!"

Seemingly taken aback, Bellatrix retreated a little from her and tensed up.
But after seconds of staring into each other's eyes she relaxed again and even smiled at her.

"Too kind for your own good, indeed," the raven-haired beauty breathed pensively. Hermione furrowed her brows. She had already said that earlier. The meaning had eluded her then as well.
"One of these days that generosity will get you hurt … or worse," Bellatrix continued in a reprimanding tone, "so, I'll better keep an eye on you from now on."
She winked playfully and flashed a cheeky grin.
"We're in this together now."

"Yeah," Hermione laughed gleefully, wearing a wide smile, blushing a little bit, "looks like it."
She wasn't sure why it made her this happy to be allied with Bellatrix. The fact that she was a vampire and Hermione could learn a lot of new things about her species surely was a big part of it. But there was something else too. Something that felt like pride. Pride, that Bellatrix had come to her for help; that she relied on her to see her vengeance through. It made her heart race and her stomach flutter in joyful excitement.

"There's still one problem, though," she heard Bellatrix' sultry voice say, as she was grabbed onto by her shoulders. Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she looked into that all too familiar eerie golden glow.
"You. Smell. Too. Delicious."

Oh, no!

"M-Maybe I should go and reapply my perfume then …?" the brunette said shakily, cold sweat forming on her forehead, and tried scooting away from her assailant, what proved to be impossible in her iron grip.

"That would probably be for the best," the vampiress purred confirmatively, but made no move to let her go.

Just like Hermione made no move to struggle against her.
She knew she should, of course; knew, that she should break away, shove her back and get the bloody hell out of there.

But, God, those eyes. They were just too beautiful not to get lost in.

Bellatrix gently pushed her down onto the sofa, hovering just a few centimetres above her.
"You are not going to resist?"

Hermione slowly shook her head.
She didn't care anymore.
She was already completely enthralled by the vampire's hypnosis.

"I am exactly where I want to be."

Bellatrix gifted her with a seductive smile, as she leaned in to claim her. Her cheekbone lightly stroked her own, before her full lips trailed down from her jawline to her shoulders.

Hermione's throat dried up in eager anticipation. She clawed herself into Bellatrix' back, trying to urge her on.
Sharp teeth scratched on her surface and she pressed her attacker even closer, hardly able to contain her desire for what was to come.

"I-Is this a bad time?"

And the caress abruptly stopped.

Hermione groaned in frustration.
She turned towards the intruding noise and spotted her father, his face bright red and in perfect contrast to her mother's pale one.

"Mom. Dad," Hermione acknowledged them in a drowsy murmur. When her brain finally registered whom she had addressed just now, it immediately snapped out of the trance.

"Mom! Dad!"

She looked at both of them individually, then back at Bellatrix, who was still pinning her down. Only now realizing what that must look like to her parents, she blushed violently.

"We … we can come back later," her father awkwardly suggested, looking anywhere but at his daughter.

"No, Dad. That's not …" the girl whined, shortly palmed her face and moved to stand up.
Luckily, Bellatrix possessed the decency to get off her and let her get up, even offered a hand to aid her.
After giving the older witch her thanks, Hermione faced her parents again.

"It's ok, sweety," her mother cut in, forcing a smile, "w-we can totally understand if you need some … alone time with your … friend."

"No, Mom. It's not like that. She's …"
She sighed deeply and drawn-out, pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You remember how I told you that I was attacked by a vampire?"

They both nodded slowly, turning their wary gaze to the raven-haired woman behind her.

"Well …"
She stepped aside and made a presenting gesture.
"… meet Bellatrix Le—"

"Black!" the vampiress sharply cut in and walked a few steps closer to her parents, "Bellatrix Black."
She made a royal curtsy, that wouldn't have been out of place on an imperial ball.
"Pleasure to meet you again."

The rest of the evening had been an awkward affair.
Partly because Mr. Granger had needed a bit more convincing until he believed that Bellatrix wasn't thirsting for his daughter in that way. But mostly because they had to get Hermione's parents comfortable with the idea that the very vampire who had attacked their precious child was now staying under their roof.

The girl, Bellatrix thought, was absolutely incredible in that regard. She had walked that tightrope of a conversation perfectly. From the start she had taken over to plead Bellatrix' case, told her parents about the misery she'd gone through by the hands of Lord Voldemort, all the while expertly avoiding to mention that she had been his most loyal follower and had committed countless atrocities in his name.

When the discussions finally ended and the young witch's parents, now more or less accepting her, retired for the night, Bellatrix let herself flop onto the sofa unceremoniously and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"That was exhausting."

Hermione sat down next to her, giggling.
"You hardly said a word."

"Still," she returned a little huffy and assumed a regal position, what made the girl giggle harder.
Bellatrix looked at her imperiously out of the corner of her eye. After a few seconds of thoughtful glancing, she sighed again as her majestic posture deflated.
"I should probably thank you for that."

"You don't have to," Hermione declined with a gentle smile and lowered her voice for the next part, "I did it so I could decide how much I want to reveal to them."

"Clever girl."

The brunette blushed a little at the compliment.

Cute.

So cute, in fact, that she would love to just gobble her up.
Her eyes fell on the girl's neck as she hungrily licked her lips.

"Are you okay?", she heard Hermione ask worriedly, while she took a defensive position.

"It might be best if you went to bed now too."
Bellatrix swallowed hard.
"I was able to handle it with your parents there and your mother's cooking, but …"
She took a deep breath through the nose.
"… it is getting increasingly harder to hold back."

Hermione's face dropped and she sighed crestfallen.
"We'll have to find a solution to this."

"Well, there is one way …" Bellatrix purred seductively, as she crawled on the sofa, assuming the stance of a wildcat sneaking up on its prey.

The girl flinched, jumped off the couch and took a few steps back to bring some distance between them. She was shaking.

"I … I can't," she muttered, hugging herself, "not yet."

Not yet, huh?

"I was joking," the vampiress said dismissively, albeit disappointedly, and sat back down normally, regarding her counterpart with a smirk, "off to bed now with you."

"Y-Yes," she complied and rushed up the stairs, out of sight.

Bellatrix groaned tensely and palmed her face.
It had taken her everything not to pounce on Hermione then and there.
Digging her nails into her scalp, she let out another groan.
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, but, being surrounded by the teenager's smell, it only served to do the opposite.

I need to get out of here!

The witch pelted out of the room, but instead of heading for the front door she took the stairs to the upper floor, instinctively following the wonderful scent of the girl.
She charged into the bathroom, startling Hermione, who seemed to have just finished brushing her teeth.

"Bellatrix?!" she gasped alarmed, "w-what are you—."

With long strides the vampiress bridged the distance between them, grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pushed her backwards until they hit the washer. Bellatrix proceeded to wrap her arms around her victim, her face buried in the crook of her neck.
Hermione stiffened and froze in her embrace, save for the fearful tremble and her rattled breathing.

Bellatrix' mouth was already latched onto that wonderfully soft skin. All she had to do now was to sink her teeth into it. But she held herself back, with everything she had. She tightened her grip, wanting nothing more than to bite down, but she kept on fighting, wouldn't allow her beastly instincts to win.

"Bellatrix," Hermione's soft voice sounded in her ear. She was obviously crying but trying to be strong.
"Please, stop," she went on through quiet sobs and returned the hug shakingly, "please, stop."
She kept repeating the same words over and over, like a mantra, and started slowly stroking her back.
And for some reason, the combination of her whispered words and tender caress made Bellatrix calm down little by little, until she was master of her conscious again.

She immediately detached herself from the girl and stumbled a few steps back, breathing heavily.

Again.
It happened again.
She had almost lost control again.

And it terrified her.

For a short moment her widened, panicked eyes met Hermione's crying ones, before she stormed down the stairs, out of the house and disappeared into the night.

Coming here had been a mistake, after all.