Hermione's thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she entered the crowded ballroom filled with elegantly dressed men and women, all dressed in black or white. Apparently the theme of the evening was Black and White.

Although the ball was well attended, people were evenly distributed throughout the rectangular room, which was two levels high and whose walls were lined with white columns that reached up to a balustrade that ran around the entire room. Like an inward-facing balcony where you could definitely see the entire ballroom from above.

Brightly lit chandeliers that Hermione had already seen from outside hung from the ceiling, which consisted of several paintings. Together with the golden trees that once again stood near the columns, they bathed the room in a pleasantly warm light.

One of the staff, all wearing gray suits, probably to stand out from the guests in black and white, led them to a table reserved just for them. The round tables draped in dark blue tablecloths, which took up one half of the ballroom while the other was reserved for the dance floor, were a comfortable distance apart so that the four women were among themselves without being isolated from the other guests.

Hermione hadn't missed the looks that some of the other guests had given them, and especially the Black sisters, as they entered the hall. Both men and women had turned to look at the two, the former probably at Narcissa and the latter at Bellatrix, Hermione guessed, wondering if she had any right to be jealous. That doesn't change the fact that you're jealous, Granger. Better think about it.

With a somewhat uneasy feeling, she watched the couples on the dance floor as they floated across the parquet floor which muffled the footsteps of the dancers in partly dangerously high heels, the music being played by a DJ on a raised platform between two pillars at the back of the hall.

Would she look just as elegant later? She swallowed the burgeoning nervousness and simply hoped for the magical abilities of the other women, who had hopefully enchanted her dancing shoes so well that her fears about this were unfounded and her body then simply automatically knew how to move.

Bellatrix drummed her black-painted fingernails impatiently on the table as she looked around searchingly: "What do you actually have to do here to get a drink? Where the hell is the waitress? Cissy?"

Narcissa, who seemed already used to her eldest sister's impatience, replied in an almost motherly tone: "I don't know, Bella, I didn't organize the ball."

"Well, obviously not, because that would never happen if you had organized it, you're a genius at this after all."

Narcissa smiled at the compliment, and even though her sister had said it in passing, Hermione could sense the love and familiarity that bound the two together and allowed for such affectionate banter. It told her more about the women than they perhaps realized.

"There are also plenty of water bottles right here on the table," Narcissa added as she took one and poured each of them a glass.

Bellatrix snorted as she swiveled her whole body in her chair to scan the ballroom: "This is a party, Cissy, so I'm definitely not going to just drink water. Ah, there's a bar back there."

She had already risen from her chair and looked expectantly at Hermione: "What can I get you, little witch?"

Hermione, who was sipping her glass of water, looked up at her helplessly. She had actually wanted to stick with water and switch to cola later if necessary. On the rare occasions she went out, she might only drink a glass of wine, if at all, but tonight she really wanted to keep a clear head. On the other hand, she felt almost childish at that moment if she actually answered with water.

Narcissa put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and also stood up: "I'll bring you something."

When she looked up at her doubtfully, the blonde added with a smile, "Trust me."

"Very well," said Bellatrix and looked questioningly at Minerva: "McGonagall?"

If Minerva was surprised that Bellatrix wanted to bring her a drink, she didn't show it: "Scotch, please."

Bellatrix just nodded and disappeared with Narcissa towards the bar. Only now, as Hermione looked after the two sisters, did she see that Narcissa's dress also had a slit at the back that reached almost to her ass, and her back was almost completely bare.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, she wondered how she was going to survive these three weeks. She sighed softly, but obviously not quiet enough, because Minerva chuckled next to her and gave her a knowing smile as she looked startled into the Scottish woman's green eyes.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, Minerva," she blurted out. She actually felt guilty about ogling the two women so obviously, even though another of her dates was sitting right next to her at the table.

Reassuringly, Minerva leaned over and placed her hand on Hermione's: "Don't be, love. I may be old, but my eyesight isn't so bad that I can't see how attractive they both are."

A sad smile crept onto her lips as she traced gentle circles with her fingers on the back of Hermione's hand. The butterflies in Hermione's stomach, which had not moved since the greetings in the entrance hall, fluttered slightly again.

"Merlin alone knows what I am actually doing here" the headmistress murmured to herself, so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

But before Hermione could reply, Minerva had regained her composure and turned her green eyes to the younger witch: "How are you, Hermione? Better than this afternoon?"

The concern in the older woman's voice warmed Hermione's heart: "Yes. Although I didn't really feel bad. I...I was just overwhelmed by...you are each very...overwhelming in your own right. All three of you at once, that was…"

She exhaled deeply and rested her head on her hand thoughtfully.

"...three times overwhelming?" suggested Minerva.

Hermione smiled, "So to speak."

Minerva lovingly pushed her hair behind her ear, even though Hermione was sure that Draco had used so much magical hairspray on her hair that none of her hair could literally be out of line, and therefore there coulnd't be a hair that Minerva could eben brush back.

But she said nothing and rather enjoyed the warm feeling that the gesture and the older woman's closeness caused in her chest. With an almost dreamy look, Minerva's fingers went to her cheek and stroked it rhythmically. Hermione involuntarily leaned further forward, towards the gentle touch.

"I think you'll soon find out, at least as far as I'm concerned, that I'm not as special as you might think."

Realizing that Minerva was about to pull her hand away, Hermione quickly reached for it and held it in place on her cheek.

She hoped her voice sounded as convincing as she felt, "I don't think so. There is nothing about you that is not special, Minerva."

"Would you bet on it?" Both witches laughed as they finally let go of each other, just as Bellatrix and Narcissa appeared at the table with the drinks.

"Scotch for the kitten," Bellatrix announced as she placed a glass of amber clear liquid in front of Minerva while she herself took a sip of her clear drink and collapsed into her chair with a contented sigh.

As Bellatrix watched Minerva eye the contents of the glass critically, swirl it around and smell it, she explained, "Don't worry, I didn't poison it."

"I know," Minerva replied dryly, taking a sip.

"You mean you assume it, you can't know it."

"No. I know it."

Bellatrix groaned in annoyance, "Dammit, McGonagall, we all know you're old and wise, but you can't know everything, let alone whether I poisoned the scotch or not."

Patiently, Minerva leaned back in her chair and gave Bellatrix a look that Hermione knew all too well. She had seen it often enough in Transfiguration class when a cocky student thought he knew something better than Minerva McGonagall. Bellatrix would now get a good dose of Professor McGonagall.

"First of all, you're far too proud to win this bet in such a devious way, Slytherin or not. You are far too confident in yourself and your seduction skills to feel the need to use anything other than your skills to outmaneuver me. Secondly, poison is not your style. If you wanted to get me out of the way, you wouldn't miss the opportunity to challenge me to a duel in public so that you could prove to everyone, and in this case especially to Hermione, that you are better than me. Assuming you beat me."

Bellatrix apparently hadn't expected such a detailed answer, covering up her obvious discomfort at being seen through so easily, but only with a snappy "Of course I would beat you in a duel." Regardless, she couldn't hide her curiosity: "And thirdly?"

Minerva didn't let herself be put off: "And thirdly, you shouldn't forget that my Animagus is a cat and that means I have a pretty strong sense of smell even in my human form. If there had been something in my scotch that didn't belong there, I would have smelled it."

Bellatrix sipped her glass thoughtfully: "Hmm, good point."

Narcissa took this moment to place a wine glass in front of Hermione with various berries, a mint leaf and ice cubes floating around in pink liquid. Hermione had to admit that the drink looked really tasty. "What is it?"

"Lillet Wild Berry," Narcissa replied. "The Lillet only has 17% alcohol and is further diluted in this combination with the Wild Berry Soda."

When Hermione curiously wanted to bring the glass to her mouth to try the drink, Narcissa's hand quickly closed around Hermione's wrist and stopped her from drinking with an almost iron grip.

"However," her voice was firm and left no room for argument, "you should eat something first. Alcohol on an empty stomach is not something one would recommended."

Frowning, Hermione looked up at Narcissa, casting meaningful glances at the glasses in Bellatrix's and Minerva's hands as well as at the wine glass that Narcissa was holding and from which she had just drunk, before she looked at the blonde challengingly and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

The question of why this rule obviously didn't apply to the three older women hung unspoken in the room. Narcissa sighed, but didn't loosen her grip at all and just let her thumb lightly stroke Hermione's skin, a gesture that Hermione didn't know if it was meant to be reassuring or if the blonde was asking for her understanding: "Darling, I know that you rarely drink alcohol and therefore can't tolerate too much. You should really eat something first. Please."

Hermione placed her glass on the table, but Narcissa continued to hold her wrist as if she was afraid that she would bring the glass to her mouth after all. Even though Hermione knew that Narcissa meant well, she couldn't keep the anger that was bubbling up inside her out of her voice as she asked, "And how, pray tell, would you know that?"

Shame flashed in the beautiful blue eyes and Hermione briefly felt bad for snapping at her like that, but found her fears confirmed when Narcissa confessed, "Draco may have mentioned it."

Hermione let out a snorted breath. What she had already assumed during Draco's visit was now clearly confirmed. "Interesting that he told you that. Just as interesting as the fact that you had to tell him straight away about our date at the café this afternoon."

Almost in a panic, Narcissa tried to justify herself as explanation after explanation bubbled out of her: "Hermione, I was worried about you. I didn't know if you even wanted to see me. I didn't want to intrude, I wanted to give you space to think about everything in peace, and Draco is your friend. I didn't want you to be alone with yourself and work yourself up in something that wasn't like that at all."

"Because Draco also told you about my tendency to work myself up in things?"

Narcissa's brief hesitation was answer enough. Hermione didn't know what annoyed her more. That Draco had told his mother some things about her that she would have liked to keep to herself, at least for now, or that Narcissa seemed to keep her son informed about everything that happened on their dates. It was probably a mix of both.

Suddenly she couldn't stand Narcissa's hand on her skin anymore and she pulled her arm back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hermione -" Narcissa started, but Hermione interrupted her: "Tell me, what else were you talking about?" She could hear the bitterness in her own voice.

"Hermione, please –" Narcissa tried again.

"He definitely told you about my master's in Potions, otherwise you wouldn't have invited me to your private library."

"Your academic achievements are no secret, Hermione. I offered you the same thing," Minerva interjected, probably with the intention of calming things down.

"You two have already tried to get her into bed with books?" Bellatrix asked in a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity.

Hermione ignored both of them. Her full attention was still on Narcissa and she couldn't stop her mind from running through all the intimate details of her life and personality that Draco knew about and might have passed on to his mother.

Suddenly she felt incredibly naked, vulnerable and...betrayed. And it made her. So. Angry. She didn't know what suddenly came over her, she didn't want to make a scene, didn't want to confront the blonde here in front of everyone, and in front of the other two women in a room full of strangers.

But she could no longer stop the anger that had been building deep inside of her, born and shaped by her own vulnerability, rising to the surface. It. Wanted. Out.

Words formed in her throat like liquid metal, cold and hard, sliding steelily over her tongue and forming deadly little projectiles that she fired one after the other at the blonde: "Did he tell you about my inferiority complex because I'm muggleborn? Or how much you are my type because you are beautiful, intelligent, successful, self-confident and a lot older than me? And how much that attracts me but also intimidates me at the same time? Did he tell you that he almost forced me to shave every part of my body earlier because he knows how much you value smooth skin and he wants to make sure that I'm ready for you because he strongly suspects that there could happen more between us than just a kiss tonight?"

Sheer shock was evident in Narcissa's deep blue eyes, which had grown larger with each of her questions, and next to her, Hermione could hear how one of the other women had choked violently on her last words and was now coughing uncontrollably, but she didn't take the time to see if it was Bellatrix or Minerva.

"Are you going to tell him if he was right after our date tonight? Are you going to tell him whether you just kissed me on the mouth or whether you actually made it between my legs tonight? Are you going to tell him how wet I was and how I tasted -"

"Hermione." Minerva's sharp voice made her pause mid-sentence, the threatening tone unmistakable. She turned to the headmistress, whose eyes glittered dangerously, only to soften again the next moment with a quick glance at Narcissa.

She looked back at Hermione, almost disappointed, whose anger vanished within a second and was replaced by endless feelings of guilt when she realized what she had just said, how she had said it and, above all, what else she had almost said, if Minerva hadn't stopped her.

She thought she could see in Minerva's eyes that she knew exactly what Hermione was thinking and feeling, because the edge had left her voice, although her tone was still clear and firm: "That's enough."

Silence fell over their table. Neither woman said anything. Hermione's head, which had just been flooded with thoughts all rushing out like a tsunami tearing down all the dams within her, was suddenly completely empty. She didn't know what to say.

How could the evening have taken such a turn so quickly? She had wanted to enjoy it, had looked forward to it, had been excited, her biggest worry being that she would embarrass herself and that there might be another fight between Minerva and Bellatrix.

But she never expected that she would be the one who ruining the evening and she was increasingly shocked by herself and her behavior towards Narcissa. A movement across from her caught her attention. Bellatrix had jumped up abruptly. She seemed to be unable to stand the tension at the table any longer: "I'll take a look at the buffet."

Hermione understood her instinct to flee all too well: "I'll come with you."

With a sideways glance at Narcissa, who was still sitting frozen in her place, her gaze fixed on the spot where Hermione had just sat, her hand still resting where Hermione's arm had been moments before, she also stood up and followed Bellatrix to the other side of the ballroom.

There was a large buffet set up next to the bar with various appetizers that suddenly blurred in front of Hermione's eyes. It was only when Bellatrix came into view and stroked her cheeks in a surprisingly gentle gesture that she realized she was crying. "No need to cry, little witch. Come with me."

Grateful that Bellatrix took the initiative, she let her pull her behind one of the pillars, where they were protected from uninvited looks, and now let the tears flow freely: "Of course I need to cry, Bellatrix! I was so mean to her. God, how could I screw this up so badly again so quickly?"

She slumped weakly against the pillar which they stood behind and hung her head. She felt rather than actually saw Bellatrix move closer to her. Warm fingers slipped under her chin and lifted her head until she met understanding dark eyes. "You didn't screw it up, Hermione."

She looked at the dark-haired woman in surprise. That was the first time Bellatrix had called her by her first name. But before she could point this out to the older woman, she continued: "You were angry and rightly so."

She sighed and her finger stroked Hermione's jaw absently. "It is not my place to tell you how important my sister's relationship with her son is to her and why. How close the two are. Yes, both of them were a little too open with each other about you, but I assume neither Draco nor Cissy did it with the intention of hurting you."

As Bellatrix's words sank into her consciousness and she seriously questioned the intentions of mother and son, she came to the painful realization that Bellatrix was right. She coulnd't suspect any evil intentions behind either Draco or Narcissa's actions. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid and felt the incredible urge to bang her head against a wall.

But since Bellatrix was still standing directly in front of her, her hand now naturally resting on the side of Hermione's neck, she merely pushed the back of her head against the pillar she was leaning against. She sighed, "God, I'm such an idiot."

"We all are from time to time."

Desperately, she looked into Bellatrix's dark eyes right in front of her: "Do you think she will forgive me?"

A warmth lit up in Bellatrix's eyes that she had never seen in them before. Gone was the arrogance, the mockery, the flirtatiousness; she saw only obvious affection in them. For the first time since she knew the witch, Hermione felt like she was looking at the real Bellatrix: "She's a big girl, she'll get over it. This is nothing that can't be resolved with a sincere apology and a thorough and honest conversation."

How simple it suddenly sounded in Bellatrix's words, what had just loomed in front of her as an insurmountable obstacle in Hermione's emotional chaos. She couldn't believe that Bellatrix of all people, who was usually so impulsive and temperamental herself, was now standing in front of her and had just brought her out of her swirling emotions and back into the world of clear reason. As if she had taken her by the hand and led her lightly out of the eye of the storm until she could look up at a clear, bright sky again and be safe.

Incredulous but grateful, she looked Bellatrix in the eyes and blurted out what she had just realized to her own amazement: "Your eyes are dark brown."

Bellatrix looked confused at the abrupt change of subject for a moment, only to burst out laughing the next. She had never heard her laugh so openly before. It was nice. It sounded liberated, uncontrolled and relaxed. It made her heart jump with joy and she felt a deep desire within her to want to hear it more often. Hermione's hands had unconsciously moved to either side of Bellatrix's waist, as if to hold the older woman in place while she shook with laughter.

"Well, what did you think?" she asked, still laughing, even though she had better control of herself now. Her hands had found the crooks of Hermione's arms, as if she wanted to hold on to her as much as Hermione wanted to hold on to her.

"Black."

"Oh, black like my name, my clothes and my soul?" She had spoken in an exaggeratedly deep voice, but despite the mockery and drama in her voice, Hermione had the feeling that Bellatrix was thinking exactly that about herself. Nothing seemed further from the truth to Hermione, especially not at that moment.

"You don't have a black soul, Bella," she immediately objected.

Whether it was the seriousness and conviction in her voice or the fact that she had called her Bella for the first time, or both, Hermione didn't know, but the witch was staring at her, completely perplexed, and something had flashed across her gaze for a moment, which Hermione couldn't interpret.

She hadn't given it much thought, the nickname had just slipped from her lips, it had felt right. But the longer the eldest Black sister remained silent, the more unsure Hermione became as to whether it had actually been right or whether she had just crossed an invisible line. She quickly tried to backtrack: "Please forgive me! That just slipped out. If you prefer Bellatrix, then I'm happy to go back -"

A finger came to her mouth, silencing her. "Shhhh, little witch. You are welcome to call me Bella. I was just... No one has ever called me that except my sisters. And Draco. And Teddy. It was just...unusual hearing it come from someone who isn't family. But…" She hesitated.

"But?" Hermione asked, holding her breath anxiously.

"But coming out of your mouth…it sounds…nice. I like it."

Hermione let out a breath of relief and involuntarily beamed from ear to ear. Not only having the older woman's permission to call her by her nickname, but also being granted a privilege that no one other than her family was entitled to, filled her with unbridled pride. Bella's confession that she liked it too was the cherry on top and it suddenly made her so happy that she felt like she was going to burst.

"Bella?"

The witch in question grinned broadly when she saw Hermione's beams and heard her name come out of her mouth: "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"What for? For letting you call me Bella?"

"Also, but especially for…this." She gestured around them both in an indecisive gesture, hoping that Bella understood what she meant without having to mention her behavior towards Narcissa again.

Bella gave her a loving smile, "You're welcome, little witch."

"You're pretty good at this."

"At what?"

"At calming me down."

A dark eyebrow rose, "You sound surprised?"

She shrugged: "I just didn't think that…"

"…that I can do something else as indescribably well as turning your head?" The grin on her face was devilish.

Hermione rolled her eyes but automatically laughed. There she was again. The Bella who couldn't pass up an opportunity to flirt with her. She slapped her shoulder in a playful gesture and couldn't help but notice how hard and tight the muscle was beneath her hand.

"Don't be so full of yourself."

"Nothing would be further from me."

"You really are incredible."

"Yes, incredibly good."

Bella's hands lightly stroked her upper arms, leaving goosebumps on Hermione's skin. The younger woman tried to suppress a shudder and hide how nervous Bella's proximity suddenly made her: "Now it's official, I will never compliment you again if you react like this every time."

"Let's see how long you can keep this up."

"Oh, I'm known for my extremely great stamina." It wasn't meant to sound as ambiguous as it obviously struck Bella, whose eyes now sparkled seductively. She moved even closer to her. So close that she could feel Bella's perky breasts pressing lightly against her. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't stop her fingers from digging harder into Bella's waist.

"Is that so, little witch?" Bella's voice was now clearly deeper, more sensual, more seductive.

"Yes," Hermione said simply.

"Mmmh." God, how could such a simple sound be so hot? "I can't wait to see this famous stamina in practice."

She had leaned in even further and Hermione's eyes darted to the dark red lips that were suddenly within reach and whose hot breath she could feel on her own lips. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel Bella's lips on her own, to know how she tasted, how she felt, how she kissed and possessed her. It would happen, she knew it. Now. Just a few millimeters left.

A loud grumble ripped through the tense silence between them and Bella backed away and let go of her. The moment was over. She immediately missed being close to the dark witch, who had composed herself enviably quickly.

"Unfortunately, my stamina leaves a lot to be desired without solid food in my stomach and I urgently need a basis for all the drinks that I have to drink this evening because of you."

"Why because of me?" Hermione was now seriously confused. Especially when Bellatrix came so close to her again, as if she had changed her mind and was now going to kiss her for real. She firmly cupped her chin in one hand, holding her head in place, while her other hand grabbed her hip, almost painfully, and pushed her against the pillar.

She looked almost angrily at Hermione's lips and whispered tremblingly: "Because of your loose mouth, I have to somehow get through the whole long night in one piece without losing my mind at the thought of you being," she gasped as if her words pained her physically, and she stared at Hermione, "completely smooth everywhere."

Hermione's eyes widened and she felt her abdomen flare to life at Bella's words, a wet warmth gathering between her legs. She wished Bella would push up her dress right there and then and do something about the impatient tugging with which her abdomen was screaming for attention.

"I'm sorry that you have to suffer such…torment because of me."

"Yes, you should be! Come now, before I do anything irrational."

With a jerk, Bella pushed herself away from her, ran a hand through her wild mane of hair, straightened her vest and stepped around the pillar back into the ballroom.

Hermione didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Bellatrix had fled from her so quickly. The fact was that just a second ago she had almost begged the older woman to please do something irrational.

She took a deep breath, stroked her dress, which fortunately hadn't slipped behind the pillar during their conversation, and followed Bellatrix to the buffet.

Notes:

What do you think, was Hermione's reaction to Narcissa exaggerated?

What about Bella being suddenly so sensitive?