Warning: This chapter may contain triggers please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Thirteen
1st January…
Blearily she wipes at her eyes, the constant buzzing is either the ringing of her hangover or the nearby light. She's struggling to tell, noticing a stain on her jumper, it was the first thing she grabbed when the Patronus woke her up. The jeggings do not suit her shoes, but they were the only thing nearby when she changed.
Her mascara has dried, she fell asleep less than two hours ago cheering in the new year with her friends. She had not expected to be summoned by Bellatrix at this ungodly hour. She looks a mess, no better than some of the ones sitting in lockup. She looks much worse than the wizard sitting in the interrogation room she's currently viewing.
Holding back the sigh, Hermione contemplates the sandwich in her hand. Egg cress sandwich, she thinks, she hadn't paid attention to what she grabbed as she left the shop. Now, she's not sure if the sandwich is edible, it feels warm. Sticky and smells like rum. She wonders if someone spilt a drink over the sandwich. Wincing she throws it away, folding her arms, she tucks her hands under her armpits wondering why Bellatrix summoned her to the Auror office.
Emotionless, hands resting on the desk, the wizard stares straight ahead as though a Professor waiting to lecture not a wizard currently in handcuffs. His crooked nose, sallow skin and greasy black hair frames his face. His eyes are cold, emotionless black depths a flicker of a sneer at the rowdiness outside the interrogation room.
Sighing, Hermione wonders why Bellatrix shoved her into the observation room, failing to explain to Hermione why she was summoned. The message sounded urgent, but she hasn't seen the witch since she was pushed into an airless room.
A shiver runs through her spine, the dread at stepping into the Ministry, the moment her foot connected with the marble floor. She had wanted to turn and run, but the idea of staying any longer makes her feel queasy. If anyone other than Bellatrix summoned her, she would have stayed away. Would never step foot back in the building not by choice, but of course, she came running when Bellatrix called her. How could she not?
The door creeks as it opens, Bellatrix sweeping into the room with a mass of scrolls and folders under her right arm. Placing them aside, Bellatrix pauses in front of the mirror as though having a staring contest with the wizard on the other side. Despite the fact the wizard cannot see them, perhaps he can.
"Bella," Hermione murmurs. "What is going on?"
"Do you recognise him?" Bellatrix asks turning from the wizard to look at Hermione.
"No, should I?"
"Just think, really look at him, do you recognise him"
Frowning, Hermione turns her attention back to the wizard, wondering just who he is. Who has Bellatrix plucked from the street? Who is Hermione meant to be staring at?
"I don't recognise him," Hermione answers with a shrug. "Am I meant to?"
"Hold on," Bellatrix grumbles heading back to the door.
With a creek the door swings open, Bellatrix barking orders at somebody on the other side of the door. Silently, Hermione watches as seconds later the door to the interrogation room opens as Dolohov steps in. Scribbling something down he hands it to the wizard in cuffs.
"Say this aloud." Dolohov orders.
"Why?" The wizard drawls.
"Because I like to hear your silky voice," Dolohov grumbles, shoving the note into the wizard's hand. "Read it."
"There is no good and evil."
Swallowing, her heart drops, hands falling to her sides, she steps closer to the glass, staring at the wizard. She has heard that voice before, many times during rallies, hidden behind a mask. The cold callous tone, the drawl, so many times she had heard that voice as the Cult Leader, as he rallied the crowd.
"Read all of it," Dolohov instructs.
"There is only power, and those too weak to seek it." With a sigh, the wizard throws the paper to the side. "Is this truly necessary?"
With a tap on the glass, Bellatrix signals Dolohov to leave the wizard be. Grabbing the paper, Dolohov exits the room, leaving the wizard alone. Shocked, and confused, Hermione turns to the witch standing next to her.
"Who is he?" Hermione asks.
"Severus Snape," Bellatrix answers lifting a file. "Little known about him, a star student, half-blood. He went to school with my cousin actually, Sirius. Used to sprout blood supremacy, bullied others, and claimed to be the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. During his youth, he had some trouble with the law. Many prospects when he left Hogwarts, but he wanted to be the Defence against Dark Arts Professor, but Dumbledore at the time rejected him. Offered Snape the position of Potions Professor when Slughorn retired, Snape did some work at Ollivander's wand shop. Disappeared not long after. A few years back, he returned to take over from Slughorn, McGonagall had given the role to Lily Potter. He dropped off the face of the earth not long after."
"You think he's the cult leader?" Hermione questions.
"I know he is," Bellatrix shrugs. "Do you recognise his voice?"
"I do, but you know I cannot be used in any court, my oath is still in place."
"I know," Bellatrix nods, closing the folder. "I don't need you to. I just wanted to be completely sure. See, after everything you told me from your mission, your intel, none of it could be used. Not after taking the oath, however, there was nothing to state I couldn't use the information to create a trap. So, I did. After a lot of planning, Dolohov and I created a little trap for the cult leader, quite simple but ingenious. When the world was celebrating the new year, the cult was busy, while my guys raided their attempted attacks. This one walked into a trap set by me."
"What was the trap?"
"Horcrux." The word sours in the air. "very little is known about the magic, but since a little birdie told me what someone was up to. I left some little crumbs for trails. Now I figured, if someone was truly trying to create a Horcrux, then they would also want to ensure it couldn't be destroyed. It just so happened that a Basilisk fang was going up for auction in London on the black market. Crazy little world, now who happened to be there at the bidding? Ended up buying the fang, and cash changed hands. Being at an underground black market sale, that's a ticket to Azkaban. Purchasing illegal items at a black market, that's a minimum of twenty years. Buying a dangerous weapon without a warrant for an experiment or having the correct protection in place. That's a life sentence."
"You tricked him."
"I did."
"If he made a Horcrux, sentenced to Azkaban could mean he outlives his life sentence." Hermione summarises.
"It does, but, this smart guy, well he likes to have things above his means. Likes to pretend his some pureblood, he put a suspicious item in my dear ex-husband's vault. My ex is looking at the kiss, one can only imagine just what he's willing to trade in exchange to avoid the said kiss. Maybe for little old me to go into his vault to double-check for anything suspicious. Especially since I have basilisk fang sitting in evidence."
"You could destroy it."
"No one would be any the wiser. Snape has an appointment with the soul healer, they will be able to spot anything strange. Then it'll be a quiet word with the next Minister of magic and the kiss may be added to his sentence."
"Are we sure it's him?"
"Well, let's just say some of the cults were caught during the riots. If they find out that their amazing leader is some loser who didn't get the job he wanted and was rejected by the girl he liked. Well, they may just start talking."
"Rejected?"
"Oh, yes, he used to have a thing for Lily Evans, now Lily Potter. She rejected him married James, and just to add insult to injury. Not only did the muggleborn reject him she also took the job that was meant to be his. Rather pathetic."
"Triggers."
"Triggers?"
"We refer to them as triggers in the Unspeakable unit. Usually, a trigger is something that can affect your mental state. It can affect someone's behaviour, most people will deal with their triggers, and work through them. For some, they react differently, a lot of research in the muggle world and links to serial killers."
"Interesting." Bella muses.
"I can get you a book I think you'd like."
"Oh?"
"You can have a discount."
"Shouldn't I just get it? I invested?"
"We're in business to make money, you can't skim off the top. I'll give you friends discount, five per cent."
"Just five?"
"Seven?"
Snorting, Bellatrix turns her attention back to the wizard, the calmness is unnerving.
"Isn't he a bit too calm?" Hermione asks as she shuffles uncomfortably.
"I've yet to tell him his sentence. He probably has an excuse ready, it's a shame the seller's assistant was Dolohov in Polyjuice."
"Am I meant to be worried?" The voice echoes in the small eyes staring straight at them. "I think I am due a representative."
"Wait till I tell him, due to the curfew, Marshall rules apply."
"Which means he can't have a lawyer."
"No lawyer."
"Harsh."
"You think I'm being harsh?" Bellatrix asks startled.
"I just, he could be getting the kiss."
"And?"
"I just think it's barbaric."
"He has been the reason for this curfew, for people dying, you know yourself what he's done."
"But there's no evidence."
"You want him to say the words?"
"I like evidence."
"It matters little what he was caught with was evidence," Bellatrix shrugs. "I don't make the rules. That's up to the Wizengamot, the Minister, I just enforce them."
"Unless…" Hermione pauses. "I just need to check, for my own sake. Do you still have the mask?"
"You can't be serious?"
"Do you?"
"In evidence."
It's unsettling, wearing the robe, the mask once more, her heart pounds erratically beneath her rib cage. She clutches the wall for comfort, sweat dripping down her back if anyone could see through the mask. They would see her pale face, she feels like she's about to pass out.
Dolohov is standing to the side, wand drawn staring at her uneasily. He doesn't know it's Hermione, he saw her leave through the floo network, hungover stumbling home. Didn't see Bella sneak her in through the back entrance, costume in place. All he knows is that she's an informant.
Hand resting on the wall, to an onlooker it's as though she's bored, to Hermione it's to stop her from collapsing on the ground. She wants to rip the mask off, too claustrophobic, the memories are rushing back. The urge to be sick, if she's sick, it's all over, this lie.
"If you try anything," Dolohov warns wand ready. "I won't hesitate to kill you."
Ah, so he still remembers the night they dragged, Bellatrix back from the duel. If only he knew she remembers it just as well. If only he knew it was Hermione in her stained jumper, mascara under her eyes. Hungover, with a buzzing in her ears beneath the mask. Not this monster she was so very good at playing. Is it too late to use the bathroom, to throw up?
She doesn't reply, merely cocks her head to the side, it's almost like riding a bike. Falling back into old habits, in the distance she recognises a few faces being moved from the interrogation room to the holding cell. The moment they spot her, some stumble over their feet, jaws hanging open. She had faked her death, it was the only way Luna could extract her, the cult thinks she's dead. Now, she's standing in the hallway to the Auror unit, waiting to be called in. Bellatrix times it all perfectly, to ensure that they see her. To see that the Cult Leader's best is turning on him. It will start the rumour mill.
Luna is already heading back to the book shop swigging Polyjuice potion, Hermione had entered the floo network, and Luna will exit as her at the shop. Will be seen by several witnesses as she loses her mind over cleaning the shop. Forcing the likes of Ginny up out of bed to help clean, any would-be spies would never know Hermione remained.
"Now," Dolohov orders nodding to the door. "You touch him, you die, you touch Bellatrix you die. You draw your wand…"
"I die?" The voice is cold, a voice of emotion, it had taken months for her to perfect it. Luna and she worked in partnership until they both had the same cold voice. Until they were the same person.
"Exactly," the distrust is evident, it makes her feel physically sick, Dolohov so normally warm and happy to see Hermione.
He doesn't know it's me. It does little to reassure her, if he did know she was behind the mask he would be angry. Betrayed, just as Bellatrix was. Would probably never forgive her, or he would think it was some ploy and not think any more of it.
He opens the door, and watching her step through, she can feel his eyes until the door shuts. Bellatrix sitting in the chair opposite Snape, the effect immediate, his eyes widening at her entrance.
"What is this?" Snape demands trying to rise in his seat, but the chains keep him rooted. "What is this? I told you I have nothing to do with that cult."
"You did, and it matters little if you admit to it or not. I have enough to sentence you to life. Perhaps you will get the kiss, perhaps you'll die an old man. We will see."
"Then why are they here?" He demands.
"Oh, my friend here, see I found them, half buried. Where was it? Oh yes, Forest of Dean."
With the slightest twitch, she remembers the order as she returned injured from the duel with Bellatrix. Dispose of her. Forest of Dean, that's where they dug the grave, where they threw her body in. She remembers the dirt hitting her chest, the moment Lestrange had reached to grab her mask. In the flash of a spell, Luna arrived, they had oblivated the wizards tasked with hiding her body. Had swapped her with a dead person, had dragged her to safety. Lestrange ripped the mask of some unknown person the Unspeakable unit had found. The sound of the shovel hitting the mud. The thud of dirt.
Clink. Her eyes dart to Bellatrix's hand, the ring on her finger catching the table, the witch intentionally making a noise to gain Hermione's attention. Had she zoned out? She can't do this. It's too much.
Don't be sick. Don't be sick.
"Very forthcoming with information. It happens when you bury people still alive. I'd honestly think twice in future about using my ex-husband, he can barely tell his arse from his elbow. Let alone if someone's alive or dead."
"I wouldn't know anything about it," Snape replies uninterested. "As I told you, I brought the fang for research nothing more."
"I know, I remember you saying, you just forget to file the paperwork."
"Precisely."
"So when we search your residence, the paperwork will be there, just needs filling out."
No response.
"I see, a bit of an oversight."
"I was overcome with excitement, at finding out about a rare specimen."
"Hmm, does excitement overcome you? Often?" Bellatrix smirks flicking through the paperwork. "No, don't answer that. It was more of a statement."
A frown settles on his face, the clench of his jaw as he reclines in his chair, not one to be interrupted.
"Well, your overexcitement has got you into a bit of trouble. Which will mean Azkaban, a very long sentence."
"If you are looking to scare me, you are doing poorly."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't scare you, I am merely speaking facts. You were meant to become a Professor at Hogwarts, but you didn't get the job?"
"Obviously,"
"That must have hurt, then to return to the promised job to find another had received it. Your ex, no less."
"Lily is not my ex."
"No?"
"No."
"Oh, well I understand it you two were very close?"
"No."
"How come? Is it because she is a mudblood or because she wasn't interested in some like you?"
Hermione manages to hold back the flinch, knowing Bellatrix is just trying to get under skin of Snape. The word burns her nonetheless. Her feet move on autopilot, both sets of eyes watching her as she manoeuvrers around the room. Until her back comes to rest against the wall, partially hidden by the shadow. Her head tilts studying Snape and watches the slight twitch from Bellatrix at the movement.
"They attacked you in a duel," Snape smiles flashing his uneven teeth, his finger pointing to Hermione. "Left you for dead, an attack on an Auror that is punishable by a kiss. Tell me, Lestrange… My apologies, Black. How come they are not in handcuffs?"
Bella's eyes flicker to Hermione, her jaw tightening, Hermione reacts on instinct. A smile forms behind her mask, she knows they can both feel it. The shift in her energy, the tightening of Bella's hand. Slowly she approaches the table coming to rest behind Bellatrix, can feel the witch grow rigid, the smile forming on Snape's lips.
"A wand to your throat," Hermione whispers her voice devoid of anything.
"Exactly, pinned down by their foot, like an animal. How come I'm the only one caged Black? What deal did they make to escape these chains."
Stepping away, Hermione retreats to the side of the room. Bellatrix rises from her seat, her hand resting just inches from her wand. Back tense. Snape leaning forward hand resting on the table.
"They had you for dead, foot on your throat. Now you work with them? Tell me how does it feel? In that warehouse, did you beg for mercy? A dagger to your throat. And you are forever disfigured by her. By an Auror, burnt, the agony. I bet it still maims your back, now you work with her. You cannot be that foolish."
"Except," Bellatrix sings with a grin turning back to Snape. "I never mentioned a warehouse… nor a duel. No one mentioned the duel,"
"I read it in the papers." Snape recounts eyes are fixed on Hermione.
"Except, it never became public record, the fire at the warehouse was mentioned as arson. Nothing was mentioned about Aurors. Nor was the fight."
"Must have been your colleagues then."
"Nope, because no one but myself and that one knows of the duel or how it went down. Which means, how do you know?" Bellatrix grins collecting her paperwork. "It's okay Severus, you can think of a lie during your trip to Azkaban. You have many years to plan."
Mouth tight, lip set in a thin line, he turns his crooked nose up at Bellatrix a sneer passing his lips. Raising an eyebrow, Bellatrix waits for a response.
"Nothing?" Bellatrix taunts. "No, what about you? Anything to add?"
Stepping from the shadow, Hermione passes her eyes along Snape, all this time it was him. A man looking for revenge because he was snubbed from a job, and rejected, he could have been anything. Instead, he let the hate grow until it consumed him.
"Disappointing," Hermione breathes eyes meeting Snapes. "Disappointingly average."
Moving past Bellatrix, Hermione pauses by the door waiting for Dolohov to allow her to exit the room. Leaving Snape to grow in anger, to seethe in the hate he created.
"I will see you dead," Snape growl following Hermione.
"Threats now, my, my Severus, you're not helping yourself."
"Keep my name out of your mouth you fucking harpy."
"Abusive language, Antonin I think he could do with a gag, don't you?"
"With pleasure."
"Keep your hands off me, get off me."
Smirking, Bellatrix exits the room leaving Dolohov to gag Snape, ready for transport. Only her most trusted will deliver Snape to Azkaban, he will be under twenty-four-hour watch, but once his name gets out. His followers will slowly disband, and there will be some repercussions they will need to remain vigilant. But for now, it will remain over.
"Can we get out of here, please," Hermione begs quietly?
A small nod from Bellatrix as Dolohov remerges leaving the door open to the interrogation room. The muffled shouts from Snape, straining in his restraints.
"I'm going to escort this one out," Bellatrix states grasping Hermione's arm.
"You sure boss?" Dolohov questions eyes darting to Hermione.
"I'm sure," Bellatrix agrees. "It's part of the agreement, back to the ferry with you."
"Ciao." Hermione bids goodbye to the wizard with a small wave as Bellatrix escorts her to the floo network.
"Ready?" Bellatrix mutters?"
"Nope."
It's painful, they bounce from one floo network apparating as their feet hit the ground, landing in front of another floo network. Disappearing once more, appearing near a ferry port, moving through the space. Intentionally passing the only passengers waiting for the ferry. Disappearing around the back of the office, Bellatrix emerges on her own, apparating away. Hermione ensures the witch has left before apparating herself.
Her feet touch sand the instructions from Bellatrix on where to go, the Auror waiting a few feet away. Whipping off her mask, Hermione sucks in the sea air, the beach deserted. The wind whips against her face, she throws the mask onto the wet sand.
"I'm going to head back to the office," Bellatrix states. "So Dolohov doesn't become worried… Why did you say Ciao?"
"Snape would have heard, he will think it's a slip of the tongue if he's looking for them," She spits the word pointing to the mask in the sand. "Then he will think I'm in Europe, mainly Italy."
"Smart, I won't be long."
"Where are we?"
"It's part of my estate," Bellatrix answers looking over the dunes. "My house is a few miles that way. It's safe here."
"Oh."
"Don't go far, I'll be right back, promise?"
"I'll be here."
Bellatrix vanishes in a blink as though she was never there. Ripping off the cloak, Hermione throws it on the ground, her feet squelching in the sand as she steps closer to the beach. The water gently lapping at her feet, she falls to her knees burying her hands in the sand. The cold of the sea makes her shiver, it keeps her grounded.
Her mind swirls, the memories forcing back to the forefront of her mind. The scraping of the spade, the thud of mud hitting her chest. The pure agony as she splinched with Luna, her wound opening even more. The time it took to heal, her back forever scarred, it will never heal.
Her fingers tighten in the sand, the water soaking through her leggings, the cold touching her knees. Breathing erratically she screams until her throat is raw, the wind carrying her screams off into the distance. All the pain, the betrayal, the torture all because of some slimeball getting rejected.
Pushing to her feet, she stumbles drawing her wand, hands shaking, and she points it at the mask. Handshaking stares back at the mask that haunts her dreams, her nightmares. No matter how many times she has the same dream, she can never get the mask off. Sometimes Hermione's face is the mask that she pulls off only to reveal the cold emotionless mask.
Maybe it was never the mask. Perhaps it just enabled us. The power. The control we wielded. Tears stream down her face, her chest heaving, hand shaking she stares at the mask. How many times we run away, it keeps calling us back.
No. She shakes her head, she never enjoyed her role. The vomit sitting in her throat, the memories, they keep her awake. If she failed at her job, many more would have died, if she hadn't leaked intel to Bellatrix, and to the Aurors more would have died. All because of one wizard.
"No."
The word breaches her lips.
Pop
A flash of the wand. The spell erupts with force striking the robes and mask. The heat was intense, the spell all-engulfing, the mask melting. She stumbles away, the fire raging, scorching the nearby sand. A scream leaving her lips. Collapsing on the sand, her fist hits the sand. Again. Again. Until the sand embeds in her skin, the small cuts drawing blood.
She screams until her throat is raw and numb. Until she is unable to scream anymore.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger I cannot clear you for work."
"What?"
"If I allow you back to work I will be neglecting my responsibilities, my duties," The small sigh, a timid smile. "I cannot sign you off."
"If you don't sign, I can't return to work." Hermione knows how desperate she sounds, but it would mean the end of her career.
"I understand,"
"I don't think you do. What will I do? Deskbound for the rest of my life?"
"I think you misunderstand, I can sign you back to work at all."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Have you thought of retirement?"
"Retirement?" Hermione scoffs. "I'm nowhere near retirement…"
"I cannot sign you to return to work for the Unspeakable unit. Permanently."
"Because I'm a risk to myself?" Hermione summarises, swallowing as the therapist looks away briefly before returning the stare. "Because I'm a risk to others."
"There are many jobs at the ministry,"
"Have you given Croaker the report yet?"
"No, not as of yet."
"Can I resign?"
"Yes, but you will receive retirement, Croaker will still receive this report."
"I understand."
Panting, she stares at her bloodied hand, turning confused eyes to the fire burning out of control. She's lying to herself if she thinks she can have a normal life. Her therapist had suggested she enrol herself in rehab. A subtle warning if she doesn't change her life she will be heading to St Mungo's. To be enrolled as a patient. Her career was over.
The bookshop had given her a life she didn't know possible, even now she wakes up excited to turn the little sign around to open. It's mundane and repetitive, but she loves it. It's hers, a little slice of paradise. Bellatrix investing, she hadn't imagined it, but it removed the stress. If anything the bookshop has started to pick up even more.
The nightmares had faded, so focused on her life to creating the bookshop she had pushed memories of the Cult away. Now her wounds are open, the memories bleeding out, and she feels drained. Worn out too overwhelmed, as though dipping her toe into acid, she doesn't want to go down that life again. At the time she had been so angry at her therapist for refusing to clear her for work. Now she's so grateful, happy to be out of the Unspeakable unit, she didn't expect her year to start like this.
"Hermione?" The word is almost lost to the wind, the boots crunching sand.
She feels Bellatrix fall next to her, she must look a mess. Drenched from the sea, the fire burning out of control, she feels the charm to keep her warm. Bellatrix turned her attention to the angry fire, it dims, no bigger than a campfire under the Auror's control.
The moment those dark eyes fall on Hermione she can feel it, that gaze could feel it a mile away. She yearns for those eyes, revels in their attention not sure what she would do if they ever looked away. She may have survived Bella's relationship with Tom, but she's not sure if it'll be the same next time. There will be a next time, Bellatrix is beautiful, she turns heads wherever she goes. It's only a matter of time, Hermione will cherish every little second they have.
If only the witch didn't have to see her having a breakdown on the beach. Bellatrix's beach, although the thought is mindboggling. How does someone own a beach? A question for another day.
Warm hands circle her shoulders, she feels herself being dragged into a hug by the Auror, the chin coming to rest on her hair. Hermione clutches Bella's robe, eyes closed, absently she wonders if Bella is still wearing her dress from the previous night under her Auror robes.
"I'm sorry," Bella whispers. "I shouldn't have dragged you back into it."
"It's okay." Hermione answers craving the warmth of the witch.
"No, it's not." Bella sighs, holding Hermione tighter. "If it helps though, his going away for a long time. It's over, I promise."
Nodding, Hermione relaxes into the embrace, the cold wind not so bitter when the witch is holding her so tight.
"That's a good new years gift." Hermione murmurs.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, next time a kiss will suffice."
"I'll keep that in mind." Bellatrix laughs, tugging the witch tighter.
A/n: I'm not sure how the reveal for the Cult leader would go down. Personally there's a lot of parallels of Tom Riddle's life and Snape's in the Harry Potter series. I think in another world, although Snape is a grey character he could have become another Dark Lord if things had been different. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the reveal of the cult leader.
Now the story can progress from the cult and start to spiral towards the end many questions still need answering and our girls need to figure their shit out.