Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 9: A shore-leave is enjoyed…

"My wife's mental state has been, sadly, a matter of public record and even more public discussion. While the particulars are, even more sadly, widely known, I will not reveal more than I should here. What I will reveal instead is that I saw a definite positive change in Hermione during the early days of the expedition. Perhaps it was the routine of the days, the calming sea air, the change of scenery, a combination of all or something entirely different. Regardless, it led into perhaps one of the greatest mistakes of my life. For little did I know that this positive change was but the silence before the storm."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

"One…

Two…

Three…

Four…"

Bellatrix grunted effortlessly as she counted every single push-up. Here, in her cabin, she was thankfully just short enough to fit in between the shower and the writing desk across the foot end of the bed on one side, and the trunk and the door on the other. Every single day, she started with a strict regimen of squats, sit-ups and push-ups. While the morning sun poured through the portholes, Hermione sat on the bed with a bemused smile on her face.

"If you're trying to impress me, you're failing," Hermione spoke with a twinkle in her eye. "Though I have to admit your sweaty smell is quite impressive. Hit the shower, please."

While continuing her push-ups, Bellatrix gave her a sideways glare.

"Twelve… It's not about… Thirteen… impressing you, Hermie… Fourteen… It's about… Fifteen… maintaining my peak physique… Sixteen… It's not as if… Seventeen… I can keep up with my broom-flying… Eighteen… on a ship! Nineteen…"

Hermione shook her head. "You're doing all your exercises in nothing but a pair of lacy black knickers right in front of me and you claim you're not trying to impress me? Yeah, right."

"Twenty-five… It's not… Twenty-six… all about you… Twenty-seven… Hermie… Twenty-eight…" Bellatrix chuckled. "Besides… twenty-nine… my exercise kit… Thirty… was in a trunk… Thirty-one… Dora made me leave behind… Thirty-two… And… Thirty-three…easier to step right undern the shower… Thirty-four…"

"Right," Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for her book, only to be surprised to have Bellatrix suddenly jump into to the bed, pin her down and continue her regimen with her underneath her.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione giggled.

"Exercises!" Bellatrix grinned. "Forty!"

Kiss.

"Forty-one."

Kiss.

"Forty-two."

Kiss.

"Forty-three."

Kiss.

Hermione didn't know what it was. Having Bellatrix rising up and pressing down upon her in a state of near absolute undress, the fact that Bellatrix' regimen consisted of a hundred of each and she was not even halfway through or the absurdity of it all. But it didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around Bellatrix the moment she came down and hold her tightly in place while deepening the kiss. Her hands slid over her girl's back, toying with the hem of her knickers.

"Again?" Bellatrix smirked after breaking the kiss. "We've been at it for half the night."

"And this is a complaint?" Hermione grinned.

The admittedly sweat-glistening Bellatrix lay down next to her for a moment, smiling at her. "You've changed since we've left, Hermie. You're less high strung, calmer. And you haven't had a nightmare for almost a week."

Hermione hadn't even realized that. It happened quite often at home that Hermione would wake up in the middle of the night from some sort of horrible dream or Bellatrix would wake her after she had been tossing and turning or crying in her sleep from dreams she would never remember. She often felt guilty about foisting her problems on Bellatrix and costing her girl her night's rest, but Bellatrix only ever took it in stride. "I suppose I might be doing better," said Hermione. "Though Keeva would probably have something to say about it."

Bellatrix ran a hand through brown hair. "I only want good things for you."

Hermione lay on her side to gaze into those endless dark pools that were her girlfriend's eyes. "I have all I need," she whispered. "I have you."

"Well," winked Bellatrix. "That's why I have to keep up, hm? Or you'll leave me for another bird who can do more push-ups than me."

Hermione snorted; as usual, Bellatrix way of dealing with a heartfelt compliment was either to blush or make light about it. "As if that'll ever happen," she rolled her eyes. "And you already look like one of those Greek statues in the yard."

"Physique needs to be maintained, Hermie," Bellatrix winked. "Or do you think those abs you love to run your hands over just come out of nowhere? Besides… you could use a few push-ups yourself. You've been enjoying Haema's cooking a bit too much as of late."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, then narrowed considerably. "Just… what are you trying to say here, Trix?"

"Oh, nothing," giggled Bellatrix while patting Hermione's stomach. "Only that you've been digging into Haema's bread and hardtack a tad too overindulgently. Oh, that's an overstatement. If you could, you would start an affair with Bread, run away together and then start a family of little breadstick children."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. And scant a few minutes later, both were on the floor. Bellatrix in her usual spot and the taller Hermione right next to the bed after having put the desk chair onto the bed to make more space.

"Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five."

"One… Two… Three…. F-f-f-our….. F-five…"

"Keep up, Hermie! Only Ninety-five more to go!"

"Fuck you!" Hermione shouted back. "Six… Seven….."

"In the shower, later. But only after you've reached a hundred!" Bellatrix smirked. " Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two."

By now, Zipper had been woken up by the noise. From his hutch, placed on top of the dresser, he looked down upon his two friends doing push-ups. The wasp flew out of his hutch and landed on top of Hermione's head to get a better look.

"Zipper!" Hermione moaned. "Stop it! You're making me heavier! Nine….. T-ten…"

"Seventy… He weighs next to nothing, Hermie. Seventy-one…."

"Next to nothing is still more than nothing!" Hermione complained. "Eleven…. Go sit on Trix' head!"

Zipper then simply decided to curl up on Hermione's back to sleep some more, leading to much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

After many days at sea, the first leg of the journey was almost over. Stood on the deck, Hermione, Bellatrix, Tahki and Nymphadora watched the skyline of Halifax, Nova Scotia. The skyline of the city loomed ahead, set against a backdrop of green land. Halifax was built in a natural harbour and the land tongues on both sides as they sailed towards McNabs Island. Being used to densely packed London, Hermione quite enjoyed the sight of a leafier city. McNabs Island itself was a large national park with an ancient forests, while the high-rise buildings of the city further ahead were interspersed with a lot of green.

A light snow was falling. Though the climate itself wasn't much different from the UK, the air felt slightly colder while the grey clouds above slightly less menacing. The ship was going straight through muggle waters and the crew had put a charm on the Kingfisher to make it look like a regular local commercial longliner. From this close up, the fake radar signal wouldn't do much to hide the wood and sails, after all.

"Right ladies!" Nymphadora dove forward, wrapping an arm around Tahki on one side and another barely around both Hermione and Bellatrix. "Ready for shore leave?! We're off out on the lash tonight!"

"Hell yeah!" grinned Tahki. "After spending over a week with Chandra and her machines, I'm just about ready to get out and about."

"Oh, don't lie, you were in heaven," Nymphadora shot back. "Magic machines to tinker with alongside a woman with a great pair of tits."

"That's more their thing," said Tahki, pointing at her and Bellatrix. "Oh, wait, this the first time any of you have set foot on the North American continent, right? Shame it had to be fucking Canada."

"Is that why you're wearing that minging rank hat?" asked Nymphadora. While clad in a thick coat, the Native-American Black had a rather gaudy stars-and-striped themed baseball cap on her head. She took a moment to adjust it slightly, then stuck her nose in the air.

"This is purely to remind all these sad Canadian Leafs that their pathetic little tract of land is sitting on top of a far superior nation," said Tahki. "Oh, Canada. Not a gun around for miles, can't play hockey, moose shit all over the place and if you smash one of them in the face, all they'll say is 'sorry for running right into your fist, ey!'."

Hermione snorted. "I'm sure Canada has some good sides. No?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I never really understood patriotism, really. I mean, it's just a piece of land you live on. Around the UK, patriotism is considered a bit naff."

Tahki made a face. "With an attitude like that, I'm not surprised you lost your goddamn Empire. If you people'd kept singing Rule Britannia once a while, you'd still be ruling the waves."

"Okay, Hiawatha," Nymphadora chuckled. "That's enough Republican propaganda for one day, yeah?"

Tahki narrowed her eyes at her. "Oi, oi, oi, oik! You got a loicense fer that joke, mate?!" she replied in a ridiculously exaggerated cockney accent.

Hermione shook her head. "Your country is just too entirely obsessed with firearms, Tahki," she said. "At least I don't have to worry about someone hiding a pistol underneath their jacket when I'm in London or in Halifax."

At that point, Nymphadora shot her a wicked grin. "Are you sure about that, Hermione?"

Oh, Hermione didn't like that expression on bit, especially when Tahki matched it. After zipping open her coat, Tahki revealed a concealed holster holding what looked to be a shiny and lovingly maintained old-timer revolver. The moment Hermione saw it, her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "Jesus, Tahki!" she exclaimed.

"This is a pristine classic Smith & Wesson .22 Bekeart, made in 1930. It's my gramps' old sidearm, from when he used to fight Grindelwald's army of lunatics," said Tahki. "You think he'd just let his grandkid leave to a foreign country without any extra protection? He gave it to me when I left for the UK. 'Should you ever find yourself in mortal danger without your wand', he said to me. 'Just use this and aim straight for the head'. Gramps is a hero like that."

Though the obvious love and adoration she had for her grandfather was obvious, the fact that Tahki would and had been running around with a revolver on her person made Hermione's head spin. "Tahki, that's horrifyingly super illegal!"

Tahki shrugged. "It's enchanted to be invisible to no-maj eyes and I can will it to vanish should it be needed. Not to mention that I've been shooting guns since I was old enough to hold one. It always confused me that Grindelwald's followers never saw the obvious tactical advantage of firearms. I mean, gramps told me a story that he was cornered in an alley by three of Grindelwald's assholes in Memphis, Europeans obviously. He was without a wand and they had him dead to rights. That is, until he drew this very gun and shot all three of them right in the face before they even knew what was happening. This revolver saved gramps' life and he entrusted it to me. I'll cherish it forever."

"Yeah!" Nymphadora laughed. "And he traded no less than three crates of firewater for it!"

"No, you moron, he bought it in a store! Like regular people do!" Tahki protested, until her face fell a little. "Though, uhm, he actually… traded… half a crate of whiskey for it… but that only was because it was during the prohibition era and whiskey was worth more than gold, okay?!"

"HAH! I KNEW IT!" Nymphadora laughed.

Bellatrix had been giving the gun a look Hermione really didn't like. But her girl's next question actually stunned her. "Tahki? Could I hold it for a bit?" asked Bellatrix.

"ARE YOU MAD?! NO!" was Hermione's sudden outburst, must to Bellatrix' surprise and dismay.

Tahki shook her head. "Sorry, Bella, but no. This is not a toy and you've never handled a gun before. It's loaded, it's deadly and you could accidentally injure someone. But if it makes you feel any better, when you visit Montana next year, I'll be happy to take you out shooting on the range. There's a great one near Billings that's very beginner friendly. Also, I'll have a chat with the owner so he'll let you shoot the SCAR they have in the backroom!"

In her mind's eye, Hermione could already see Bellatrix forming an obsession with guns and the walls of their private quarters being decorated with hundreds upon hundreds of pistols, shotguns and assault rifles. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Hermione pressed. "Trix, you are not going anywhere near a firing range next year! No guns! No pistols! No ammo! No shotguns! And definitely not whatever a SCAR is!"

Somewhat stricken, Bellatrix merely gulped and nodded while Nymphadora couldn't stop laughing.

Tahki zipped her jacket close, leaned on the railing and merely sighed with a bemused expression on her face. "Again, this is why you lost your Empire…"

While her family members kept on bickering, Hermione simply watched the waves as the ship sailed into the city towards Halifax's harbour. Like NewCastle's wizarding harbour, the one in Halifax was hidden. As a springboard to the north and south alike, Halifax was supposedly the largest wizarding harbour of North America. The harbour revealed itself as reality started to warp around the ship. A seemingly closed off abandoned wharf parted open in front of them, allowing the ship to pass through. Next to her, Tahki groaned and held her head.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah," said Tahki, though her pained expression said otherwise. "Brain-overload, 's all."

The wizarding harbour of Halifax revealed itself in front of them, much larger than NewCastle's harbour. Three long terminals, two try docks and enough berths for at least a hundred ships. Halifax serviced ships going both north and south, those going north being sleeker and smaller, those going south larger and bulkier. The port itself looked to be far more modern than the more medieval look the NewCastle harbour had. Newer world, newer structures, Hermione supposed. The contrast between the wooden sailing vessels and building made from modern brick, cement and corrugated metal gave it all a very anachronistic look. It was as if the vessels had been sailing in from a different era in history. With the wind blowing through her hair, Hermione was actually happy to see the gulls again. It meant she could set foot on land again very soon.

Once the ship had found its berth, the crew started securing the sails and prepping the ship for inspection and restocking, before they too would disembark for their much-deserved shore leave.

"Ah, I'm mad for it!" said Bellatrix. "A whole new city to explore!"

Zipper was sat on the railing with the other wasps. The insect was seemingly torn and hopped towards them and then back to other wasps over and over. That was, until Bellatrix patted his head. "It's okay, you can go spend time with your new friends," he said. Hermione nodded in confirmation. Though Zipper didn't seem any less guilty, he eventually flew off with the other wasps. The five of them flew into the port, no doubt up to all sort of waspy mischief.

"He's totally going to end up drunk on the floor of a wasp brothel," Tahki chuckled.

"What would a wasp brothel even look like?" Nymphadora put a finger to her lips.

"Well," said Hermione. "There'd probably be loads of chocolate to eat. And no sex with the women, just cuddles. Lots and lots of cuddles."

"Wasp heaven," Bellatrix laughed. "Come on, let's find out what this city has in store for us."

The ship was quiet safe for the ever-present creaking of wood and water splashing against the hull from far below. Sat in his office, Captain Thomas Kirk sat updating his logbook. Though almost all passengers and crew had swarmed out to shore leave, Kirk's work was not yet done. He'd have to go to the harbour-master to sort things out, pay his dues and purchase more supplies for the voyage based on the report Nymphadora Black had given him on supply usage.

Being his own boss meant he had no shipping company to balance the books or handle these things for him. It added an extra layer of responsibility on top of his already considerable load. Yet even after opening the ledgers to start with said task, he found his mind wandering to thoughts of the current expedition and its members.

Kirk was not a rich man by any means, nor did he want to be. There was no crippling debt which had forced him to take on a dangerous expedition to frigid waters such as this. Nor was he an adventurous thrill-seeker in search of fame and fortune. Truth be told, it was a job like any other to him. As an experienced Arctic seafarer with a good ship and an equally good crew, the risk was very much in line with the reward. The crew itself was excited about the voyage as well, since this was something entirely different from a milk-run through the North-West passage with cargo or passengers.

And still, something about this… Black Expedition didn't sit well with him, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Eleanor Snowbell, the expedition leader, had been exploring all her life. She was used to dealing with danger and managing risk. All the more strange, then, that when he had suggested delaying the expedition to the summer months to make the waters far more easily navigable, she had balked to the point of panic and demanded the schedule to be kept. Exploring the frozen north in the late winter months brought with it considerable more risk of frozen waters, storms and biting cold. The first leg of the voyage, Eleanor had barely spent any time outside of her cabin or her office, he had noticed.

Same for Chandra Raywood, really. Best he knew she was still on board tinkering with her machines. The woman didn't seem to like crowds all that much and it was quite telling that she preferred to stay out of sight during that pompous ceremony when they left NewCastle. Barely spoke to anyone after leaving and had meals brought to her cabin or workplace. There was being a loner and then there was being aloof. Thing is, in the few conversations she had had, miss Raywood had been open and outgoing, and she certainly dressed like someone who liked attention. It was an odd contradiction.

As for the other members of the expedition, he had misgiving about letting so many young scions of a rich wizarding family on board his ship. Expecting them to be entitled rich kids, the four young witches had pleasantly surprised him. Bellatrix Black seemed to be wholly unaware just how much of living legend she was: a girl missing for thirty-three years suddenly appearing without having aged a day, her story making her a household name. He admitted to having tested her resolve when she had interviewed him a few days before and he had found her stubborn and steadfast. She could usually be found talking to people or writing in her notebook and he wondered if he should outsource his boring logging duties to her.

Then there was Hermione Granger, Bellatrix Black's fiancee. And interesting girl to say the least, talented and intelligent. Though there was a sadness behind those brown eyes of her. A sadness he had seen before in former and even some current crew members. She was a person who was lost without knowing it, trying to fill the void within her by any means possible.

Tahki Black was… interesting. Her role on the expedition was unclear to Kirk and perhaps even herself. She was a mechanically minded individual, mostly helping out Chandra setting up her equipment. She was also a savant, apparently. Kirk wondering if she would somehow augment the machine readings or add to it with her natural instincts. In either case, she was not above helping out the crew with their duties whenever she was free, even if she had been caught in a compromising position with Riggere in the laundry-room.

But by far the biggest surprise had been Nymphadora Black. When Eleanor had told him that the expedition patron had demanded a position on the ship for her wayward daughter, he had admittedly flew off the handle a bit. A ship sailing on Arctic waters would have no place for a spoiled, entitled brat, he had said. But when he actually met and talked to the girl, his attitude had changed. Certainly, at the other side of his desk sat a definite sponge during their first meeting, but he quickly concluded that his girl had a desperate yearning for some kind of challenge in her life. Nymphadora on her first days showed a lot of interest in the workings of the ship and was quickly well-liked by the crew. Sadly, Kirk's long-time quartermaster Dagwood had retired a week prior and he had been searching for a replacement. Though his shoes were tough to fill, Nymphadora had shown a surprising amount organisational skill in short a time.

Definitely smarter than she looked, that one. It would be a shame to lose her after the expedition and for Nymphadora as well, to bloom up like this only to be inevitably crushed underneath her overbearing mother's smothering boot heel yet again. A bloody shame.

Those four kids all had the right attitude. It remained to be seen if they had the endurance for an Arctic voyage, but he had high hopes at least.

He has less high hopes about finishing off with this ledger today if he didn't go up to clear his head. It had already reached the point that all the numbers started to float in front of his eyes. So, he did what he felt was needed and decided to shove the ledger aside from now and go for a walk along the dockside. After leaving his quarters and walking onto the upper deck, he had almost reached the gangplank when he spotted a most unusual sight. There, stood by the prow overlooking the northern waters, were Eleanor Snowbell and Chandra Raywood with their backs turned to him. A rare sight to see in public and certainly on deck. Kirk paused and decided to approach them.

It was in that moment that Eleanor started to cough. It wasn't a normal cough. From the way her body was haunched and her hands were gripping the railing on the gunwhale, he had the urge to rush up to her to see if she was doing alright. Miss Raywood was already at her side, however, a soothing spell at the ready.

"I'm running out of time, Chandra," Eleanor spoke with a regret and melancholic tone. Kirk was not prepared for was happened next: Miss Raywood produced a silver case and opened it. From this silver case, miss Raywood pulled a syringe filled with a fluorescent green liquid. With no hesitation, Raywood applied the needle into Eleanor's neck and pushed the plunger. The ease with which Raywood handled the syringe and the ease with which Eleanor accepted it, told Kirk that this had been done many times before. Almost immediately, Eleanor stopped shaking, her body again rigid and steadfast.

"We'll make it, Eleanor. I'll see you to Hyperborea, like I promised," said miss Raywood, gently laying her hand on Eleanor's and squeezing tightly.

Immediately, Kirk felt as if he was intruding on a private moment and decided to make himself scarce before they would notice him. The captain made his way to the dockside and took a moment to steady himself. It was so odd to set foot on land when you were so used to the gentle swaying of a ship. Still, with the seagulls above and smell of the sea around him, it would be nice to hit the pub and grab a pint before going back to the Kingfisher continue the number-crunching.

Once again, Hermione was surprised and humbled to learn that there were still so many aspects of the wizarding world she had never known about. When Bellatrix had told her that she had arranged for an all family communication once they arrived in Halifax, Hermione had expected they would all stick their heads into a fireplace and never gave it much thought. The last thing she had expected was to be led into an empty room with white walls with a pedestal at the dead center. Scant a few minutes later, beams of light emerged from the pedestal and the translucent life-sized images of her family appeared right in the room with them.

Though they couldn't touch, this was infinitely better than sticking your head in soot. Apparently, there was another room in the UK just like this and the entire setup she was stood in cost over a million galleons to build and maintain. She didn't want to think how much a single call in this booth would cost, let alone the entire hour Bellatrix had booked.

Next to her, Bellatrix was raving too both sets of parents about all the things she had seen on board the ship. Not far from them was Nymphadora, stood in front of Andromeda with the two of them quietly chatting. What did catch her ear was that Andromeda told Nymphadora how proud she was of her, to which Dora moved to hug her only to almost fall through the magical projection.

"I'm sorry your family couldn't be in the call, Tahki," said Hermione to the somewhat forlorn looking cousin.

"It's fine," she replied. "This thing is two-way to they couldn't join even if they wanted to. I'm sort of on walkabout, I suppose. They let me go to explore my own roots and walk my own roads. Kinda hard to do that when your gramps calls you every five minutes."

"It can't be that easy," said Hermione.

"I'm not saying I don't miss them," said Tahki, a smile forming. "I've got you guys, though, so I'm not lonely."

Though physical touch wasn't part of the experience, the shimmering projections were nevertheless easy to communicate and make eye-contact with. Everyone was eager to chat and both real people and projections dropped in an out of conversations. Tahki got into a friendly debate with Druella about American politics… always an interesting subject… while Hermione's father Jack and Cygnus gave Hermione some due attention.

"Blimey," said her father. "This is just like a holo-deck, puppet!"

Cygnus raised an eyebrow. "Pray tell, what is a holo… deck?"

Uh-oh. Her father pounced on Cygnus as if he was cat hearing a tin of wet food being opened. "Well, Cygnus, you see, on board of the USS Enterprise-D, there are these rooms which…"

"Dad!" Hermione interrupted. "Don't even bother to start explaining that to Cygnus, dad, because you know as well as I do that'll use up the entire hour we have."

Jack put a finger to his lips. "You're probably right. I'll tell you about it later over dinner, Cygnus."

Cygnus looked rather amused. "I… look forward to it?" he replied, then turned to Hermione. "In any case, you'll be pleased to know everything in the greenhouse is running smoothly. Most of the workload you left behind is being handled while your assistants and I are continuing the experiments you set up. There are few issues we cannot handle, however in the grand scope of your research goals that is all fairly negligible."

Upon hearing that, Hermione couldn't help but shake her head. "It's almost as if you don't miss me at all," she said.

Yikes, that sounded a tad more bitter than she had intended.

"You left us with a clear step-by-step research plan along with research goals you set for us," said Cygnus. "Don't underestimate your importance, but don't overestimate it either. You are allowed to have side-projects and take breaks. It is important to realize this."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "It's just the workaholic speaking, I suppose. I'm glad you are doing well."

"I have received a side-project of my own," chuckled Cygnus. "Bellatrix has asked me too look into news articles about earlier expeditions to find Hyperborea. She also told me this intriguing tale of a muggle expedition that managed to get their ship caught in the ice. A harrowing tale with a rather unfortunate ending."

"I'm afraid you've got me to thank for that," said Hermione, biting her lip slightly. "Sorry."

"It's fine," said Cygnus with a smile. "This old man needs to fill his days with interesting tasks to keep his mind from going stale. Bellatrix think a chapter about earlier expeditions would be a good addition to her book and it's not as if she can source the articles from the ship. If I can do my part, I gladly will."

Hermione left Cygnus and her father to chat with Tahki and Nymphadora while Bellatrix moved on to her sisters, since apparently Narcissa had joined the call. Which left Hermione stood with her mother. Her mother's eyes were locked at hers, as they always were when she was concerned. "You look well, Hermione," said her mum. "Better than I've seen you in months."

"I feel well," said Hermione. "Better. Calmer. Less… stressed."

"And the nightmares, dear?"

"Trix says I've been sleeping a lot better."

Emma Granger raised a translucent hand to attempt to lay it on her cheek, only for it to slide through her body. Hermione didn't even feel it. "That's good," said her mum. "Hermione, I… I pray for you. Every single day. I know you don't believe, not like I do at least. But with all that's going on, the dangerous trip you're taking and what you've gone through… I like to think the good lord's looking out for you as much as Bellatrix is."

Hermione smiled briefly. Her mum had always been a religious woman, a church warden for the CofE ever since she'd been born. Both Hermione and her father didn't believe, not really, but still went to church at Sunday because it was important for her mum. It had been somewhat of a bone of contention in the Granger household during the earlier years of her life.

"I know I've made life hard for you at times," said Hermione, her eyes going slightly watery. "And I'm sorry. I love you, mum."

"I love you too, sweetie," said Emma Granger, tears in her eyes. "If only I could hug you right now. I'd hold you close and tell you that you don't need to run away anymore."

Running away?

"Mum," Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not running away. Not anymore. What makes you think I'm still running away?"

"Darling," said her mother. "You're on an expedition to the North Pole. It doesn't get any further away from anything than that. Hermione, I'm so glad you're doing better, but I just hope and pray you can one day find what you're looking for."

Hermione cast her eyes downward, to the glove covering her silver hand. "It's… not… exactly a trip to the North Pole, mum," she protested rather weakly, her mind already formulating counter-arguments to her mother. How this was a once in a lifetime journey, how she originally didn't even want to go, how Bellatrix and Cygnus talked her into it, how she still had loads of work to do at home and just how much she was doing and feeling better.

All excuses. Her mum was right. She was still running and had no idea where she was running to.

Hermione removed her glove and raised her silver hand, so polished and shiny that she could see her own reflection in it. All her arguments died in the back of her throat as she balled her silver hand into a silver fist. "Why do I keeping hurting the people I love the most?" she started sobbing.

"Oh, darling…"

Druella was upon her crying mum; given her personal history, she'd know a thing or two about feeling helpless. Surreal how her mum was right there, and yet on the other side of the world and there was nothing Hermione could do to comfort her. That only made her feel even worse. When she looked up, she saw Bellatrix look into her eyes. Clad in a black dress and a stylish velvet cloak draped over her shoulders cascading down to the back of her knees, the diminutive witch made a rather striking figure. Not a word needed to be said when Bellatrix hugged her tightly.

"Do you need some air?" asked Bellatrix. "We could step outside for a bit."

"No," sniffed Hermione. "I don't want to cost anyone time that could be spent with family, especially now. Our last chance to talk before we'll head north and be completely cut off. I'll be fine."

"Stop thinking about others all the time," said Bellatrix. "You exist too, Hermie. Give your head a wobble."

"I know," Hermione smiled. "But… I need to get absolutely fucking rat-arsed tonight."

That made Bellatrix chuckle. "I believe Nymphadora has a plan in place for just that."

There were about fifteen minutes left on the call to spend freely and thankfully Hermione could spend it chatting with beloved family without shedding any more tears. She was even able to show her parents a few pictures she had taken with the digital camera they had given her and they were suitably impressed, even though the small screen would be as translucent to them as the rest of her body was.

After leaving the call with a rather melancholic feeling in the pit of her stomach, it was already dark outside and the first stop of the evening was a pub where the four girls filled up with burgers and fries. It was there where Hermione gladly took her first shot of the evening. After walking in a random direction, the four of them stumbled upon a nightclub. Though loud music and strobe-lights weren't Hermione thing usually, she simply decided to go with it today. It was there where she partook in cocktails. Too many cocktails.

There was something intoxicating about being under flashing blue lights while Bellatrix threw her body around wildly to the beat of the music. She tossed her head back and forth in such a way that her long curly hair whipped around her, thrusting her chest forward, throwing her arms to her side, kicking her legs out. Hermione was only vaguely aware that she was dancing herself, trying to match Bellatrix' movements. God, Trix was so beautiful, graceful in her moves as her body had the elegant fluidity of a serpent in the grass. And when two young men came over to introduce themselves, Hermione quickly asserted her dominance by grabbing Trix and kissing her madly, her tongue pushing so far down her girl's mouth that she might end up swallowing it. The boys got the hint and that was the moment that Tahki decided to introduce herself to said boys.

More cocktails followed.

Memories of the next hours were hazy. A haze that sort of parted only when she cold air of the night hit her. The music was still there, in the background, pounding through head as much as it did through the walls of the club. Hermione was lucid enough to realize that she couldn't walk in a straight line and her vision was just on the wrong side of blurry.

What had happened? She remembered more drinks. Giggling uncontrollably when sat in the lounge booth. Some kissing. Falling over at some point.

"You absolute slutbag," said Nymphadora to Tahki, who wasn't walking in any more of a straight line. Her cousin's answer was a clear gleeful smirk, a clear indicator that she had a good time with those boys she had introduced herself to. "And you," said Nymphadora. "You pretend to be a prim and proper nice girl, but you're as bad as Pocahontas is!"

Hermione blinked, the streetlights above creating halos in her vision. "W-what did I do?" she asked.

"More like 'who' did you do!" laughed Nymphadora. "Bellatrix! In the lounge booth! Merlin, I swear you were in there up to your elbow! At least you did it under the table."

Hermione turned to see a winking Bellatrix. "Your silver hand feels really nice, Hermie," she purred. She felt she should feel embarrassed, but she was simply too drunk to care at the moment. Leave that for tomorrow when the hangover would hit and all the shame would crash down upon her at once packaged within a wave of searing headaches.

"You're just jealous that you're the only one who didn't get laid tonight, Nymph," Tahki laughed, the sound echoing through the empty streets as the four of them wobbled along the pavement of Halifax' wizarding quarters. "Too busy getting stoned to get laid much? I never see you with anyone when we go out."

"Hey, quality over quantity," said Nymphadora. "And unlike you rank rotters, I don't kiss and tell."

"Bobbins!" Bellatrix called out. "I know… I…"

A harsh look from Nymphadora silenced Bellatrix quickly. How odd. But honestly Hermione felt simply too drunk to dwell upon it.

"Oooh, intrigue!" Tahki laughed. "It's alright, keep your secrets. For now…"

And there, right in front of them, it was. Apparently the very thing Nymphadora had been looking for. The secret surprise she had been preparing. A secret surprise that was open all night and closed during the day. At first Hermione had honestly considered she had brought them to some sort of brothel as the red neon lights blasted her retinas. Until she took a second look and saw… a wizarding tattoo shop.

"Ladies," said Nymphadora, again throwing an arm around the three of them. "We've been talking about it for ages now, but we've never actually done it. Well tonight's the night! We're all getting inked!"

"Wicked!" Bellatrix gasped.

It was then that a moment lucidity overcame Hermione. "Wait? What?!" Hermione pressed.

Nymphadora produced a scroll and unfurled it. On it was a beautiful all black ink drawing of a frame made from thorns and two black roses growing inward on either side. Center of it all, in gothic lettering, was the phrase 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Bellatrix.

Nymphadora grinned. "Goneril made it."

"Goneril?" asked Tahki. "That nice maid from the mansion?"

"Exactly her!" said Nymphadora. "Turns out she's a fab artist so I commissioned this design from her. I wouldn't be embarrassed to have this put on my skin, far from it."

"You can't be serious," said Hermione as she was being dragged into the tattoo shop. The inside of the tattoo shop were adorned with all manner of tattoo designs on offer, from simple and plain to elaborate and colourful. They were greeted by a burly tattooed lady witch with a crew-cut who stood about as tall as she was wide. To the back stood a table on which the proverbial tattoo magic would happen, alongside what looked to be a large collection of magical ink and very much modern tattoo equipment.

"Heya," greeted Nymphadora. "Black family, we have an appointment for four."

After handing over the design, Hermione got ever more nervous to the point that she was trying to fight the alcohol in her body to remain lucid. No way was she getting a tattoo done while in a drunken stupor. The lady went over the design while a discussion ensued about the size of the tattoo and the location. They wanted to have it done on the same location too, which was causing a bit of a problem: Tahki already had so many that finding a proper spot was a tad harder.

After Tahki had removed her coat and shirt, the lady was rather admiring the work already done. "First Nations?" she asked.

"American. Blackfoot," replied Tahki.

There was a free patch in between the shoulder blades, right underneath the neckline and it was quickly decided that it would be made to fit in that location for all of them.

"I…" Hermione still balked, becoming more and more nervous. "Guys, this is a really big decision and we're all completely drunk."

Tahki chuckled and turned to the tattoo-lady. "First timer," she said. "Use dawnstar ink for her, I'd say."

The tattoo-lady nodded knowingly and held out her arm, showing Hermione a tattoo that disappeared to show unblemished skin. When Hermione looked at Tahki in surprise, the Native-American Black simply winked at her. "That's the beauty of magical tattoos. Depending on the ink-mix, there's an enchantment you can put on them. If you use dawnstar ink, you can literally turn your tattoo on and off at will. So no more shit about 'big decision that will affect the rest of our lives'. You literally have no excuse not to do it."

"But I'm not…" Hermione started to say and closed her mouth.

"… a member of the House of Black?" Bellatrix finished. "You might as well be. And you will be."

"Don't see yourself as separate from us, Hermione," said Nymphadora.

"We certainly don't!" Tahki smiled.

"Yes, we love you! Some of us more than others, yeah?" added Nymphadora.

Bellatrix grabbed her by the shoulders. "Hermie. You don't have to be alone anymore. We're family."

It was that moment that Hermione simply let the alcohol take control. Tears started to run down her cheeks, quickly gathering the girls up in a fourway hug. "Put that fucking tattoo on my back!" Hermione exclaimed through her tears.

And so Hermione was the first to be lowered onto the table and the first to hear the buzz of the needle and the slight stings of dulled pain. She lay still as the tattoo was being applied. It didn't hurt as much as she would have thought and the work continued on.

"While we're here, Bella," said Tahki. "Might as well get 'Property of Hermione' tattooed right above your puss."

"And 'Open Walk-in Buffet' right above yours?" Nymphadora challenged.

"And above yours 'Good As New, Hardly Ever Used'?" Tahki returned. "And about you, Hermione? What would you like to have tattooed right above your puss?"

"Nothing?"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Hermione," Tahki scowled.

Hermione thought a moment, close to actually falling asleep. "Handle with care," she muttered. "Wait… we're not actually doing that, are we?"

Fortunately, they were not. Once the tattoo was done it had been covered with a plastic sheath which she was supposed to keep over the fresh tattoo for a couple of hours. Looking into the mirror, she admired her back awkwardly while holding her brown hair to one side. Forever marked as a scion of the House of Black, the tattoo stood out against her unblemished skin. With some amazement, she willed the tattoo to 'turn off and on' as Tahki had said. Oh god, her mum was going to kill her… but at least her dad would think it cool.

Bellatrix was next on the chopping block, though Hermione lost more and more lucidity. She wasn't sure what happened afterwards, only that more drink was involved. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in her cabin back on the Kingfisher with spare light of day coming in through the portholes. Hermione lay on her back, naked and with a splitting headache to end all headaches. She felt the urge to vomit but managed to keep it down through sheer willpower. For now, at least.

Next to her lay Bellatrix, head smushed into the pillow and an arm draped over her stomach. She lay at an awkward angle, her torso nearly face down, but her hips turned to one side. With a slight blush, Hermione noticed why: Bellatrix couldn't lay down properly because their new favourite toy was still strapped to her hips. And, judging from the way she still felt a bit sore down there, 'handle with care' had definitely not been on Bellatrix' mind yesterday when they had made it back to the ship.

Despite her headache, despite her stiffness and despite her soreness, Hermione smiled a little. Reaching over to gentle brush some curly hair away from the sleeping Bellatrix' cheek. Bellatrix always looked so sweet and innocent while sleeping, though in this case Hermione rather had to ignore the purple sex-toy flopping among the sheets to maintain the image.

"I am doing better," Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse from drink and whatever shouting she had done yesterday. "I have you."