Hermione scrambles back on the soft bedding, crossing her legs into a lotus position. Her heart hammers in her throat and, despite the cool air coming in through the tiny porthole window, a small trickle of sweat runs down her spine.

She feels rather than hears Narcissa's question about Bellatrix, and gives the woman a subtle nod to indicate the oldest sister can stay. Whatever it is she's about to find out, she doesn't want to find out alone.

"Bella, why don't you jump up on the bed next to Hermione. Merlin knows you like to make yourself at home in my cabin anyway," Narcissa instructs, with a roll of her eyes.

Hermione automatically leans into the solid safety of the Captain, reaching for a hand that is willingly placed in hers, fingers lacing together. Bellatrix's grip almost stops her hands shaking.

Almost.

"I'll be here. No matter what happens, I've got you," Bellatrix whispers in her ear. "I've got you." Her words are a promise that Hermione latches onto, pulling under her skin to lock inside her chest.

"I know," she replies, leaning her head on the dark witch's shoulder.

"If you're ready, Hermione?" Narcissa asks, worried blue eyes scanning her face. When Hermione nods, she continues. "When I say the word 'Legilimens' you'll know I'm starting."

"I thought you didn't need to say spells out loud," Hermione asks, and the knowing look in Narcissa's eyes tells her the witch knows she is stalling.

"I don't need to, but I thought you might appreciate a little warning considering what we are about to do. This will be a very different experience to the times when your surface thoughts have made themselves known to me."

"Just do it," Hermione says determinedly, tightening her grip on the Captain's hand.

"Very well," Narcissa replies softly, raising her wand.

It's a gentle tugging at first. A sensation she has become familiar with since she joined the crew. A small trickle of feelings and faces, that becomes faster and more urgent the longer she is trapped in Narcissa's spell. Memories start to make themselves known in a random reel of her life.

As the Princess of Port Ventus, she had a good life, surrounded by the love of her family and the people. She sees herself sailing a boat when she is five years old, her father standing behind her at the wheel. Crookshanks huddled under the bush in their garden, sheltering from the rain and meowing pitifully when she picked him up and took him inside, begging her parents to let her keep him. Her best friend at school, her first kiss, graduating from the academy, officially accepting her royal title at seventeen, and being introduced to the world as Princess Emma Granger as she takes on the role of ambassador. It all flashes by disconnectedly as if these events happened to someone else, but then she is thrown head first, fully submerged into the strongest memory yet.

"I have to tell you something," Emma says with a breathless giggle, as Pansy attacks her neck with the kind of kisses that usually ignite an afternoon in bed together.

Pansy rolls them, straddling her hips and grinning down at her triumphantly. "Tell me later, we have more important things to be doing." With that, Pansy lowers herself down, their bodies flush together as she rolls her hips into Emma's more than willing body.

Giggling again, Emma lifts a hand to cup her fiancée's face. "We're having a baby, Pan. I'm pregnant."

Her news is met by an excited gleam in Pansy's eyes and a broad smile, as she sits up, bouncing slightly. "We are? We really are?"

"Yes," Emma says simply, enjoying the warmth and love that circulates between them. "The healer says I am about five weeks along so far."

"You have made me the happiest witch on the planet," Pansy declares, still grinning. She kisses Emma's face over and over again, before capturing her lips and sinking back down on top of her. News forgotten for the moment, Emma surrenders to her, and another afternoon slips by with slick skin, breathless pleas and an orgasm so strong that lights dance in her eyes.

Hermione takes a deep, shuddering breath, but she has no time to recover as she is thrust straight into another memory.

"Absolutely not." Emma's mother doesn't falter for a second when denying the President of Port Solis's demand. "Emma is already engaged to someone else, and she is free to choose for herself."

Emma breathes a sigh of relief at her mothers defence, not that she had doubted her for a second. However, as the last remaining city with a monarchy rather than a government, life in Port Ventus has been getting more perilous. Other cities like Port Solis have been undermining their goodwill with the people, and a lot of damage has been done to their social and political standing.

"An engagement can be broken just as easily as it is forged," Cormac replies cooly, his beady eyes flicking over to where Emma is sitting, and making an obvious path to her chest where he openly oggles her. She crosses her arms defiantly, and he smirks. "You will do this, or there will be war. Do you really want this on your conscience?" He's speaking directly to Emma now, and she feels the flames of injustice rising, unable to hold her tongue.

"If you start a war, then that is on your own conscience, Mr McLaggen. And I should think the people will be more upset with you than us, if you started a war just because you don't like the word 'no'."

He sits back in his chair appraising the three of them, Emma sandwiched between her parents on the sofa. It's clear now why he had insisted that the princess be present for their negotiations as they attempted to broker ongoing peace between the two cities.

Cormac clears his throat. "Never let it be said that I am not kind. I will give you twenty four hours to reconsider, and should you fail to agree to marry me, then consider your actions an act of war. This little city that you are so fond of will be razed to the ground, and every man, woman and child who voted to keep the monarchy in charge, will be slaughtered."

"Yes, Port Ventus is a monarch led state, but we have run this city with a democratic hand. The people make the decisions, not us. We have always chosen to be part of a unified council to keep things fair," Emma's mother states quietly. "Emma is one of our people and as such we can not, and will not, make decisions for her."

Emma's father stands up. "We don't need twenty four hours to know that we will never use our daughter in this way. Emma does not want to marry you, and neither should she have to. If you choose to use this as a reason to start a war, then I cannot stop you, but know that we will fight, and the people will fight by our side. Now, please leave our city. You are no longer welcome here."

Cormac gets to his feet, his advisor mirroring his movements as they head to the door. "You will regret this, heed my words. No one refuses me. No one! You will live to regret your decision here today, but not for long." With those final words, Cormac storms from the room, his advisor close on his tail.

"What do we do, Father?"

He walks over to the door, closing it firmly behind their newly departed guests, and then comes back to sit in the chair next to the window in their lounge. He leans his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples in circular motions. Emma knows what that means. He will never admit his discomfort, but her father suffers with terrible migraines. He looks up tiredly. "He's a dangerous man. Ruthless. I am more than a little concerned that he will carry out his threats. We must do what we can to protect the people."

"It's time to leave, Richard," Emma's mother states calmly. "We've talked about this day arriving, and it's here sooner than we had hoped, but it's not as though we are unprepared."

He nods. "I had hoped that our position here was safe after the last election, but even though the people voted for us, the other cities are uncomfortable with the idea of a monarchy being in charge, despite the fact we answer to a council of our peers. If Cormac tries to rally support, I don't doubt that he will be successful."

"But we can't just run away," Emma declares fiercely. "We can't just let him win."

"This is not about winning or losing, Emma," her mother tells her gently. "This is about doing what is best for our people. I will not let their blood be spilled because my pride would not let me walk away. It's time to go to Atlantis."

Nodding resignedly, Emma gets to her feet. "I'll go and tell Pan. We'll break the news to Rose and start packing."

"Nothing but the essentials," her mother warns. "We want to slip away from here on as small a ship as possible. Cormac will be on the lookout for our catamaran, not a smaller vessel. We need to be unnoticed."

Emma allows a small smile. Their catamaran is rather noticeable, with their royal flags flying from the mast and painted in bright colours along each of the two hulls. "Understood, Mother."

Blinking open her eyes, Hermione wonders if that is it, but is soon dragged back under an onslaught of fresh memories making themselves known.

"We have incoming, starboard side. It's fast. A missile, I think," Richard calls across the deck. "Hold on!"

The words have barely left his mouth when a torpedo hits their ship, the sound of tearing metal screeching through the night. Thrown to the floor, Emma is disorientated when smoke fills the air; the lights up on deck flicker and then go out, plunging them into darkness. As her eyes adjust to the dim light from the overhead moon, she spots Rose on her knees next to a lump on the deck. She forces herself to her feet, stumbling closer.

No. Not a lump. Pansy. Her fiancée is laying face down, and even in the darkness, she can see a pool of dark liquid surrounding her head. She runs closer, thrown to the deck when the ship pitches to one side, the sound of water rushing into the hull filling the air with desperation. Thrown back down onto the deck, she gasps as pain shoots through her knees from the impact.

"Mum!" Rose cries, reaching for her when Emma crawls the final few metres across the slanted deck. In a futile attempt to undo something that she already knows is irreversible, she flips Pansy over onto her back, but her fiancée doesn't make a sound. Her lips don't move, her rib cage doesn't rise, her eyelids don't flutter. She doesn't smile and beckon for Emma to lean down and kiss her, and her hand doesn't reach out to lace their fingers together.

Rose whimpers, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"I know, Darling. Don't look." Emma pulls Rose into her chest, sheltering her from unseeing eyes that stare up at the heavens, unblinking. Her daughter is too young for this. Too precious to be haunted by Pansy's face for the rest of her life. No five-year-old should ever have to watch their mother die.

"Life jackets, NOW!" Her father bellows across the deck. "There is nothing you can do for Pansy," he adds more softly, and it's obvious he has seen the devastation in her eyes. She leans forward to kiss Pansy's still-warm forehead. "I love you," she whispers, her tears dripping onto too-pale cheeks. "I'll never forget you."

The ship rolls in the churning waves, throwing them across the deck and she reaches for her daughter as the water comes tumbling over the side.

Hermione braces herself as a new memory overwhelms her senses.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Hermione has been laying in the same bed for three days now, and the staff at this hospital have a whole lot of questions but never any answers. It's frustrating and she's restless. Her daughter is in the same room, sleeping peacefully in a bed on the opposite side, though there are telltale signs of their misfortune all over her face.

A boating accident. That's what the doctor had said. Her parents, not that she had recognised them - she has amnesia, apparently - had confirmed it. A day trip with her daughter that had nearly ended tragically.

"Darling? I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you sooner, I was on a diplomatic trip to another city."

The man who has entered her room smiles, but his eyes are cold. Calculating.

"I don't remember," Hermione mumbles. "I don't remember anything."

He walks forward with far too much confidence for her liking, sitting on the edge of her bed and encroaching on her space in a way that makes her flesh crawl unpleasantly. "I'm Cormac McLaggen, the President of Port Solis, which is your home of course. Didn't your parents tell you all of this?"

Her parents hadn't been any comfort at all. Even with amnesia surely she should have felt some familiarity? A sense of innate comfort that comes from being around your loved ones. Not Wendall and Monica Wilkins, though. No. If anything, they made her feel afraid, not safe, though she has no logical reason for this.

"The doctor didn't want them to overwhelm me with too much information," Hermione replies with a shrug.

"Ah, yes. The doctor did advise caution. Still, he believes that you will be feeling much better by the weekend. Our wedding can go ahead as planned."

His eyes gleam with something dangerous, and Hermione wants to get out of the bed, grab her daughter and run. Instead, she asks the obvious question. "Wedding?"

"Yes. I know you don't feel like yourself at the moment, but I see no reason why we should delay things. After all, half of the political world has been invited, and it would be poor form to cancel now."

"I can't marry you, I don't even know you!"

Cormac gets up from the bed, heading toward the door. "It's too late to cancel now, Hermione. The wedding will go ahead as planned. You will obey me on this, just like you always do."

With those final words, he leaves the room, taking the oxygen with him. Not for the first time, she wonders about her name. How has she spent twenty-four years with a name that feels so alien to her? The doctor informs her that it's quite normal to feel disconnected to her life prior to 'the event' as she now calls it in her head, but even so, there is something about it all that just seems off.

Rose whimpers in her sleep, and a flash of Rose crying over a woman flickers to life in Hermione's mind and then disappears just as quickly. What was that? Her daughter is being kept under light sedation, and as much as she knows that it's probably for the best while her body recovers, she needs her to be awake. Rose also has amnesia, what are the chances of that? Apparently the mast had fallen, knocking them both to the deck. It's only because Cormac had instructed the local water police to keep an eye on his future wife that they had been rescued and were able to get the medical attention that they needed.

His future wife. In four days she is due to be married, and she doesn't even know her soon-to-be-husband, but one thing is already clear. She's not sure she even likes the man, let alone loves him. What kind of relationship did they have before this?

Rolling over to face the small window, she looks out of the hospital room onto the city sprawled out below, looking for anything that feels familiar. A rooftop, a tree, even a person walking through the pristine streets. Something, anything, that will make her feel like this place really is home.

Home. Her heart aches when that word springs to mind. For a moment she feels arms ghosting their way around her, holding her tightly, a nose burrowing into her hair. The smell of jasmine surrounding her with a blanket of bliss. She blinks and the vision is gone, and with it the last vestiges of her self control. With a glance at Rose to ensure she is still sleeping, Hermione allows her tears to fall, crying herself into an exhausted slumber.

Completely drained now, Hermione hopes that it is over, but the tugging pulls her under once again.

"You bastard! I remember, Cormac. I remember everything! How could you do this to me? To Rose?"

"You dare raise your voice to me? Have I taught you nothing?"

"I'm not scared of you, Cormac," Emma spits. "I'm taking Rose and I'm leaving. You will pay for this, I promise you."

She doesn't make it to the door, his fist slamming into the side of her head from behind, her knees hitting the floor painfully. He swiftly kicks her in the ribs, not once, but twice, and she rolls onto her side, holding her stomach as she gasps for breath.

He stares down at her daring her to move, but she couldn't even if she wanted to. Praying that he will leave her alone, she lays as still as possible, watching carefully as he walks over to the desk. He taps his info screen, and from where she is laying, Emma can see Rowle's face filling the screen.

"What's up, Cormac?"

"Time to make yourself useful again and earn that ridiculous salary I pay you. I have need of your wand, Rowle."

"On it, Boss. Be right there."

Rowle disappears and it feels like only seconds later that he is walking in through the door, smiling cruelly when he sees her laying on the floor. He adds his own bruise to the litany of others covering her skin as he walks toward her husband.

"She remembers," Cormac informs him curtly. "Do something."

Emma knows what is coming before his wand is raised and pointed at her face. With the single word he utters, her hope disappears.

"Obliviate."

Disorientated, and shivering, Hermione opens her eyes, unsure when they had fallen closed. Narcissa smiles weakly, tears falling down her own cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

The blonde gets up and sits next to her on the bed, wrapping long arms around her and hugging her tightly. "It's okay. You're safe now, Darling."

You're safe. Apparently these are the magic words, and Hermione collapses into Narcissa's arms crying unrestrainedly, her hand still tucked into Bellatrix's. The dark witch squeezes it reassuringly, and Hermione knows she must be wondering what the hell just happened, but she gives them space, allowing them their moment without intrusion.

The ship is swaying gently, but Hermione realises it's more than that. Narcissa is rocking her much like she is a child seeking comfort from her mother, and that thought brings about a fresh round of tears. Where are her parents? She knows the truth, but she needs to hear the words.

"My Mum and Dad?" she asks, her voice trembling as she pulls herself away.

"No one ever found the bodies. As far as I remember they were declared missing, but presumed dead," Narcissa replies solemnly, and Hermione appreciates the unerring honesty that all three sisters offer her. "We can look into it now we know who you really are, I'll get Anathema on it. Anything you need, Darling. Anything at all, you can have it."

Hermione stands up, releasing Bellatrix's hand. "I think… I think I need to be alone. Do you mind explaining?" she asks Narcissa.

"You really shouldn't be alone," Narcissa warns gently. "At least go and see Ginny or give Rose a hug or even help Harry in the kitchen if you want, but don't isolate yourself, Hermione."

"I just need a moment," she reassures her, turning to Bellatrix. "Narcissa can explain everything to you and Andromeda. She has my permission to tell you everything you want to know, but I can't sit here and find the words to tell you myself."

Bellatrix gets up and pulls her into a tight hug, nose burrowing into her hair much the same way Pansy used to do. It's comforting, but at the same time a little odd, and she only allows it for a moment before pushing back. "Come and find me later, okay? I just need a moment," she reiterates, searching Bellatrix's face.

"I will," the dark witch promises, pressing her lips to Hermione's in a chaste kiss.

-xXx-

The weather matches Bellatrix's mood; dark and foreboding like the end of the world is happening somewhere up ahead on the horizon. The rain hasn't started yet, but she can smell it on the air that is whipping around her face. Bellatrix grips the wheel a little tighter, widening her stance slightly. They are not due a storm of any significance, but the weather will be unpleasant for a while and there is a big part of her that wants to be wind-chilled and soaked to the bone. Something, anything, to match this desolation that she feels.

Hermione - or she supposes she should get used to calling her Emma - is the missing princess from Port Ventus. Her parents were murdered, as was her fiancée, and the only survivors of that cowardly attack are Hermione and her daughter.

It's not fair. Someone so good should never have suffered through something so terrible, and it's all Bellatrix's fault. Why had she pushed her into letting Naricssa unlock her memories? Hermione had been happy, and together they had been heading towards an unspoken future that was undeniably growing between them. But what now?

Bellatrix scowls when she sees Draco walking toward her purposefully. That slightly nervous, but determined look on his face spells trouble, and she would bet good money on it having something to do with his interfering mother.

"What do you want?" she asks sulkily.

"Mother has requested your presence. She's in her quarters."

"Tell her I'm busy. She knows I'm on duty."

"Not any more," Draco says with a grimace, bravely stepping behind the wheel. "You know she will only come out here if you don't go to her. Wouldn't you rather sit down and hear her out with a glass of firewhisky in the warm, rather than have her come up here yelling at you in front of the rest of the crew?"

Bellatrix snorts, momentarily amused by the image of her fearless little sister coming up on deck to tell her off, which is undoubtedly what will happen if she stays up here. "Fine," she concedes, rolling her eyes as she steps away from the wheel with a huff.

As she walks toward the steps, her eyes scan the deck, but Hermione is nowhere to be found. Squashing down the vague sense of disappointment, she resigns herself to her fate, slipping down the stairs into the belly of the ship to go and have her ear chewed off by Narcissa.

It's worse than she thought. As if Narcissa wasn't a daunting enough prospect, Andromeda is sitting on the bed next to her when she walks in without knocking, determined as she is to take back some of her power in a petty display of petulance.

"You summoned me?" she asks dryly, walking forward to take the only seat in the small cabin.

Naricssa leans forward, and before Bellatrix can react, slaps the side of her head.

"Hey!" she protests, rubbing the spot, though in truth it doesn't actually hurt. "What was that for?"

Narcissa ignores her complaints. "What the hell is wrong with you, Bella?"

"What? I haven't done anything," she grumbles, glaring at the blonde.

"That's the point," Andromeda inserts, rolling her eyes in a way that is entirely Bellatrix's own signature expression. It's uncanny how alike she and Andromeda are really.

"I don't know what you mean," Bellatrix lies.

This time it's Narcissa that rolls her eyes, and but for the sharp features and blonde hair, she is every bit one of the sisters in that moment. "You can't lie to me, Bella. You know exactly what I mean."

"Bloody Legilimens," Bellatrix complains, for what feels like the hundredth time as she averts her eyes from her sister's penetrating gaze. "Look, fine. I know why you called me in here, but I'm only doing what she wanted. She said she needed space."

"No," Andromeda disagrees, shaking her head. "She said she 'needed a moment', that's all, and she specifically asked you to come and find her later."

"And it's more than later now," Narcissa interrupts. "So why has that poor woman been wandering the decks looking so lost, when all she needed was support from you."

"She doesn't want me," Bellatrix says with a heavy sigh, the truth spilling from her lips without restraint.

"Has she told you that?" Narcissa asks.

"No, but it's obvious. She's just lost the woman she loves all over again, Cissa. I can't compete with a dead woman."

"If you had spoken to her, then you would know how she feels about it," Andromeda points out. "But you ran away like a little coward. I thought more of you, to be honest."

The reprimand stings more than expected, but she has no choice but to concede that her sister is right. She had assumed Hermione would no longer be interested and rather than talk to her, she had tried to avoid the inevitable instead. "I know," she admits tiredly.

"So?" Narcissa prompts.

"So?" Bellatrix repeats, with a frown.

"What are you going to do about it?" Andromeda asks impatiently.

"Hide out in my cabin, ignore it and hope it all goes away?" Bellatrix quips, earning her a glare from both sisters.

"Go and sort your shit out, Bella. Hermione needs you, you fool, and you're letting her down right now," Narcissa scolds her. "You're better than this."

"Go and find her. Talk to her. Comfort her if she needs it, but most of all, just be there for her. Whatever she needs, let her have it. What you have together is far too precious to throw away just because you're scared," Andromeda adds, more gently. "Go on, go now. Find her."

Bellatrix stands up, feeling lighter than she has all day. "Fine. But if this is not the right thing to do, then you're both on overnight watch for the next month, and I'm taking away your shore privileges."

"Sure you are," Narcissa teases with a grin. "My sister, the big bad scary Captain."

"We've been hearing this for nearly twenty years, Bella. You really do need to come up with some new threats," Andromeda adds, with a smirk. "Now, piss off and go and make things right with your woman."

Leaving the cabin with the same scowl on her face that she entered it with, she waves them both a dismissive goodbye and goes off in search of Hermione. The little witch doesn't appear to want to be found, though. She searches the common room, the galley, the lower decks where Neville grows the food and even climbs up to the crow's nest, but she is nowhere. Disheartened, she comes to the only obvious conclusion; Hermione does not want to be found and is avoiding her.

She heads along the corridor to her cabin. If nothing else, she can salvage a few extra hours of sleep while Draco is covering the helm. She pushes open the door to her quarters, and pulls up short. A single bulb at the far end of the room illuminates the bed, where Hermione is tucked under the covers, the sheet pulled up to her chin.

"Bella?"

"Are you okay Hermio- Emma?" Bellatrix asks, walking fully into the room and closing the door behind her.

"Hermione is fine. I feel more like Hermione than I do Emma, at the moment. You don't mind that I'm in here?"

Bellatrix sits on the edge of the bed, fingers reaching out to caress Hermione's cheek. "No, I don't mind at all. You're always welcome in my cabin, whether I am with you or not."

"Will you… Will you get in with me?" Hermione pulls back the covers, revealing long bare legs and a short t-shirt that barely covers anything, the line of a black thong across her hip just visible in the gloomy light.

Bellatrix nods, momentarily robbed of words as she tries to cool her rising libido. Now is not the time to make a move on the woman, no matter how tempting the flesh on offer is. She shucks off her jacket and hangs it over the chair, slips off her shoes, and drops black denim down over her legs until she is wearing the same amount of clothing as Hermione. She searches Hermione's face one more time, waiting for her to nod, before she climbs under the sheets.

Bellatrix opens her arms, and there is no hesitation. Hermione slides closer, wrapping herself around Bellatrix's body. "Are you okay?" Bellatrix repeats softly.

Hermione nods against her shoulder. "Yes and no. It all feels very recent, but at the same time it's like my mind knows just how much time has passed. It knows that the loss and grief I feel is not fresh."

"That must be confusing."

"It is," Hermione agrees. "And I think it will hurt for a while, but I don't want to hurt alone, Bella. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"You don't have to be alone. I'll be here with you."

"You ran from me today," Hermione says sadly. "I knew what you were doing, and it hurt."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix replies sincerely, drawing Hermione closer. "I thought that it was for the best. I didn't want to make things more difficult for you."

"You really have to stop trying to make decisions for me." Hermione moves her head back so she can make eye contact. "You always think you know what's best for me, but you never ask. If we're going to have a relationship of any kind, then that needs to change," she continues firmly.

"I wasn't… I didn't think you would still want that. A relationship, I mean."

"Because you didn't ask," Hermione points out. "And I'm not saying that I will ever really be over losing the woman I loved, but Pansy would want me to be happy. And I think… I really think that I could be. With you, Bella. If you just give us a real chance."

Bellatrix rolls onto her side, reaching out to cup Hermione's cheek. The parting of lips, and the sweet flutter of eyelids tells her everything she needs to know, but she still waits for Hermione's quiet plea.

"Kiss me, Bella."

She does. It's soft and sweet; gentle and so full of love that her heart beats rapidly against her ribs. Bellatrix resists the urge to take control, allowing Hermione to set the pace, determined not to rush something that promises to be so beautiful.

Bellatrix allows herself to be pushed onto her back, Hermione sliding her body over to straddle her hips, the warm flesh of her legs burning against Bellatrix's skin. There is a desperation in the young witch's eyes she's not seen before, and she allows the woman to devour her hungrily. The heat between them rises, hot breaths coming fast in quick pants as lips explore each other. As much as she wants to lose herself in the young witch now laying on top of her, it's obvious that Hermione is not fully present in the moment. Bellatrix may as well be kissing someone who is drunk, and not fully in control of their actions.

Cupping Hermione's cheek, she pushes gently to put some distance between them so she can take a full breath. "Slow down, Love," she says with a chuckle.

Hermione doesn't answer, her eyes glazing over in a way Bellatrix is unfamiliar with as she kisses her fiercely. It's bruising, almost vicious, and then it clicks in Bellatrix's mind what is happening. "Stop, Hermione," Bellatrix instructs firmly, rolling them deftly, so that they are lying side by side. Hermione tries to take the lead again, leaning in for another kiss, but Bellatrix stops her with a quiet plea.

"Please, don't do this. Not like this."

"I want you, Bella. I know you want me too."

Leaning forwards to capture pink lips in a chaste kiss, Bellatrix then rolls onto her back, pulling Hermione against her side. "I do want you, but not like this. When I make love to you, I want it to be something special. I don't want to be a distraction. I don't want to be something that helps you forget."

"Stop trying to make decisions for me," Hermione snaps. "I know what I want."

"I know you do. And I know you want this, but I don't. Not like this. If we do this tonight then you will be using me, Hermione, and I really thought I meant more to you than that," Bellatrix admits, unable to help the vulnerability from seeping into her tone. "I don't want to be used like this. I care too much about you, and myself, to let you do this to either one of us."

Hermione recoils as if she has been slapped, but Bellatrix refuses to let go, hushing her and pulling her close. "It's okay, Little Witch, no harm done. If I didn't want more from you, then I would happily help you blow off steam."

"But you do? Want more with me?" Hermione asks plaintively, the tension leaving her body as she relaxes against her.

"More?" Bellatrix asks. "Don't you know by now?"

"What?"

"I don't just want more, Hermione. I want everything."

Hermione burrows closer, throwing her thigh across Bellatrix's. She makes no sound, but Hermione's shuddering breath reveals her tears long before they reach Bellatrix's skin, trickling down in tiny rivers onto the sheet below.

"Shush. It's okay. I've got you," Bellatrix murmurs comfortingly, moving so she can kiss her forehead.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispers. "I didn't mean to try and use you in that way. I really do want you, but you were right. You deserve better than that."

"Don't worry. We have time for everything else, and whilst I might be looking forward to it, I'm perfectly happy just holding you tonight." Bellatrix reaches for the light, dimming it to the lowest setting, just bright enough to find the switch again in the night if needed.

The cabin descends into silence, the only sounds heard are their shared breaths and the waves hitting the hull of the ship. Just as Bellatrix is drifting off to sleep, Hermione's voice reaches her quietly.

"I think… I think I'm falling in love with you."

Bellatrix smiles in the darkness. "I love you too, Princess."