Happy New Year everyone! This is another fic for the New Year's Tales event being run in the Bellamioneland Facebook group.

Hope you all enjoy the New Year celebrations tonight.

Steren xx

-xXx-

The room is stifling. Warm and airless, the scent of wine and perfume lay heavy in the atmosphere, and Hermione feels a sharp longing for the crisp air she knows is waiting for her outside. She glances around the ballroom, and confident that no one will miss her presence, she slips out of the main doorway. Hiding in the shadows, she skirts along the short hallway to the rear entrance, and out into the freshly fallen snow.

Too late she realises that a cloak would have been a good idea, and she casts a quick warming charm on herself to ward off the chill. It's not enough, but it will have to do. Being out here is the most free she has felt all night, and she won't let the cold take that away from her.

Looking up at the night sky, she idly traces constellations with her eyes, drawn to one in particular; Orion. It's easy to spot Bellatrix's star once she finds the three stars in a row that signify Orion's Belt, and she shifts her gaze upwards slightly until she sees it. Shining brightly in the night sky, it stares down at her, just one in an unfathomable number of stars and she wonders why she even sought it out.

She shakes her head in the silvery light, sighing out a breath that clouds in front of her face. No, she's not going to do that. Not here. Not now when she is on her own, away from the people that she conceals her true self from. There is no need for her to lie, and no hiding from herself, and definitely no hiding from the truth. Being here in Bellatrix's manor has brought up all kinds of feelings and emotions that Hermione has stuffed down and refused to acknowledge for far too long now.

Bellatrix has dominated her thoughts since that day at Malfoy Manor and Hermione hates it. Hates that what had once been fear and loathing has been twisted into grudging respect for the part Bellatrix played in the war. She fooled them all, the most impressive of all being Voldemort himself, and isn't it quite the mystery how she managed to pull that off?

It's just one of the many puzzles Hermione has felt an indescribable need to solve. The things that Bellatrix has done are enough that she should spend a hundred lifetimes in Azkaban and yet, here she is, hosting an extravagant New Year's Eve party in her home, rubbing shoulders with every important figure in the political world. Her crimes have now been written off as the inevitable collateral damage that comes with having a spy within Voldemort's inner ranks.

"Hello, Pet."

Hermione's eyes flutter closed, and she keeps her back turned. "Hello, Bellatrix," she replies coolly, or as coolly as she can manage, at least. Judging by the amused snort that reaches her ears, she's not successful.

"Are you not enjoying my party?" Bellatrix asks, and Hermione can hear the pout in her voice. It's confirmed when she turns around to face the witch, red lips drawn together in a way that she refuses to acknowledge is attractive.

"It's a little too crowded for me," Hermione admits honestly, tired of pretending that she's the Golden Girl that people expect. It's exhausting. Everyone takes a small piece of Hermione, and these events leave her feeling empty. Tainted by their overeager hands as she is pulled unwillingly onto the dance floor, all in the name of politics. "Why are you out here?"

Bellatrix doesn't answer, and it's then that Hermione notices a cloak slung over the witch's arm. Bellatrix steps forwards to wrap it around her shoulders, an act that brings an unexpected sting to her eyes when nimble fingers fasten it tightly. "Thank you," Hermione mumbles.

"I saw you leave," Bellatrix offers by way of explanation. "And it's the coldest night of the year so far."

"So far? It's the last night of the year," Hermione points out, a stickler for facts even now. "It's impossible for there to be a colder night after this."

Bellatrix grins, not at all put out by the reminder. "So, what are you doing out here?" she asks, as she gently wraps a hand around Hermione's bicep and leads her to a bench that is up against the southern wall of the manor.

Allowing herself to be led, Hermione takes a seat on the bench, lost in her thoughts. Why is Bellatrix out here? And with a cloak for her, no less. She hadn't expected anyone to notice her slipping away, least of all the host, Bellatrix herself.

"It's too much sometimes, isn't it?" Bellatrix's voice softly breaks through Hermione's reverie, and she startles, wide eyes turning to the witch next to her. She searches her face, but there is no sign that Bellatrix has even spoken. Just the calm look of someone deep in thought, unconcerned with the rest of the world around her.

Hermione doesn't ask what she means. Bellatrix's words could have slipped from her own lips, and she finds an empathy hidden within them that she knows is on purpose. Bellatrix understands her, and it's a scary thought, but not unwanted.

In the end, she leans back against the bench, tugging the cloak further around her. "It is," Hermione agrees, and there is so much more that she wants to say. She's not sure of herself though, a little wary of the unexpected kindness being shown to her.

Since the war ended, they've crossed paths a few times, enduring these mandatory grand events with sympathetic smiles and stolen conversations in dark corners; kindred spirits magnetically drawn together by an unseen force. It's become evident over the years that both of them were handling the fall-out from Malfoy Manor in different ways. Hermione has dealt with her trauma by researching every single detail she can find on the witch who played both sides, ultimately coming down on the side of The Order. It had started as a way to heal, soon morphing into what Hermione recognises was, and still is, an unhealthy obsession. She snorts to herself, the sound jarring in the still of the night. Obsession? Maybe once, but now? Now it's more, and that thought terrifies her almost as much as the woman herself.

Hermione usually keeps herself to herself and actively avoids big events like the party at Black Manor tonight. Harry had begged her, though, and she had eventually caved. Seeing him propose to Ginny, she realises that this is why he was so persistent and she lets out a heavy sigh as she realises that spending time with her was not his objective. He had wanted an audience of his friends, rather than the company of them.

From what she can see, Bellatrix has been dealing with things differently. In public she stands tall, proud of the role she took in the war, and accepting of the praise that is heaped upon her. Without Bellatrix, life would be very different now and Hermione would probably be dead if Voldemort had ultimately won.

Turning to look at Bellatrix again, there is an unmistakable tension; a tightness around her eyes that Hermione recognises with sympathy. The mask that Bellatrix usually wears is slipping, and for the first time Hermione feels as though perhaps she is seeing who Bellatrix Black actually is. She looks real, human, and Hermione wants to peel back more layers and get to the bottom of who Bellatrix is underneath the facade she presents to the world. There is no denying that the witch is beautiful, and Hermione wonders how she ever ended up with these kinds of feelings for someone quite so unobtainable.

"See something you like, Pet?" Bellatrix challenges, one eyebrow cocked.

Angry at herself for being caught staring, Hermione scoffs. "Not everyone wants to sleep with you, Bellatrix."

And if she sounds bitter, then it's probably because she is. It's no secret the run of women that Bellatrix has paraded through the wizarding community, and if Hermione has been at all jealous? Well, that's something that even Bellatrix's particular brand of torture can't drag out of her. Why Hermione wants the witch quite so badly, is something she can't quite put her finger on, not that she is about to admit this to the infuriating woman next to her.

"Shame," Bellatrix remarks casually, and Hermione turns to look at her, mouth falling open. Bellatrix's eyes twinkle, but she doesn't take the statement back, leaving it hanging in the air between them.

Bellatrix turns to her fully, and smirks, adding, "I'm sure we could have a lot of fun together, you and I."

"In your dreams," Hermione retorts, turning to stare out over the small lake in the middle of the grounds. It's only just visible in the dark, pale light bouncing off of its rippling surface.

"Quite a few of them, yes," Bellatrix replies, and her voice is serious. "You've been starring in them for quite a while."

Not willing to be the butt of a joke she doesn't understand, Hermione gets to her feet. "Thanks for the cloak, Bellatrix." Without waiting for a reply, she walks further into the grounds, heading towards the wild copse of trees that is the only unsculptured, natural part of the gardens. It's rugged and beautiful, and she takes a deep breath as she walks between the great oak trees.

"I have no reason to lie to you." Bellatrix's voice reaches her, as soft breath flutters against the back of her neck. How the witch has crept up on her in absolute silence, Hermione doesn't know, but she suspects her wand was involved.

"I'm not in the mood for this," she grumbles, stepping forward to put some distance between them. A hand wraps around her arm, spinning her around and backing her against the large trunk of a huge tree. She makes a halfhearted attempt to pull free, but Bellatrix just smirks, moving forwards to pin her using her own body weight.

"Stop running from me. Legilimens, remember?"

Hermione stares, stricken. How could she have forgotten that particular talent? Has Bellatrix been privy to every thought she's ever had about her? Heat rushing to her cheeks, Hermione avoids her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar," Bellatrix immediately replies, and she sounds amused. Hermione hates her inability to shield her mind. It's the one thing she has never managed to obtain any level of competency in.

"Leave me alone."

Bellatrix smirks again and takes half a step backwards. Hermione knows she is being tested. Knows she should move. In the end though, she finds herself rooted to the spot, missing the warmth of Bellatrix's body and making no move to make her escape.

"I know you watch me," Bellatrix continues, completely undaunted. "I know every little thought that has gone on in that pretty little head of yours."

"Get out my mind, Bellatrix," Hermione snaps.

"No," Bellatrix answers simply. "Why waste any more time?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione repeats, her earlier words becoming a mantra that she chants inwardly.

"Oh, Hermione. I think you do. You see, I've known for a long time how you feel about me."

Hermione's anger flares, the lack of privacy and the sheer gall of the witch in front of her stoking the flames of ire within her. "If you knew that, then why are you only now approaching me?" Too late, she realises what she has revealed, her cheeks reddening further.

Bellatrix pauses and Hermione waits for her answer, sure that it will be some brush off, or pitiful excuse. She hates herself for it, but there is no denying just how much she wants the answer to this question.

"Because you weren't ready, Hermione," Bellatrix replies quietly. "And neither was I."

Well. That's not the answer Hermione is expecting, and now the words are hanging between them, she has no idea what to do with them. She has no reason to trust Bellatrix, but if she is honest, she has no reason not to trust her either. She spends a quiet moment contemplating what she has said, looking for a motive, any reason at all why she would be saying these things if she didn't mean them.

Stumped, she shrugs tiredly. "I don't know what this means. I don't know what you want from me, Bellatrix, and I have nothing left to give anyone."

"I don't want to take anything from you. I want you to give yourself to me. Let yourself go. Enjoy the night, and whatever the morning brings, so be it."

It's a tempting offer. It's not like they could ever be more than what Bellatrix is offering. They come from completely different worlds for a start and Hermione is too broken, too scared to ever let someone have her heart. She looks up into dark orbs, and gives a minute nod.

Bellatrix sends her a surprisingly warm smile. "No matter what happens tonight," Bellatrix begins, reaching forwards to lean a hand on the trunk next to Hermione's face. "Tomorrow? No regrets."

"No regrets," Hermione repeats, and she means it. No matter what, this has to be enough. This is all they can ever have, and given this chance, Hermione will not deny herself the pleasure she knows will be wrought at Bellatrix's hands.

Leaning into her again, Hermione finds herself pressed firmly against the tree, Bellatrix's other hand stroking down the side of her face, before twisting into the hair at the base of her neck.

"Merlin, but you are beautiful, Hermione," Bellatrix murmurs softly, and all thoughts are robbed from her mind as the witch leans forwards and kisses her. It's soft and gentle, not at all like she was expecting. She wraps her arms around Bellatrix's waist tugging her closer, parting her lips in response to the tongue that makes its presence known.

A quiet moan leaves her unbidden and it's like a switch has been flicked. Bellatrix takes control of the kiss, and it's hot, demanding, just like she had imagined it to be. Hermione is wearing muggle clothes under her cloak, preferring the comfort of them over wizarding world traditions, and she feels cool fingers pulling the white cotton shirt she is wearing out of the waistband of her jeans.

"May I?" Bellatrix pulls back to ask, and Hermione eagerly nods, all embarrassment completely overridden by the want and need Bellatrix is effortlessly building in her.

Her button is flicked open with an expertise that takes her by surprise, the zip drawn down painfully slowly before lips are on hers again, swallowing the sounds of approval that she can't stop making. It's not her tightest pair of jeans, but she recognises the enlargement spell Bellatrix uses to give herself room to manoeuvre.

Bellatrix kisses like she owns her, and it's with the last vestiges of conscious thought that Hermione wonders if perhaps she always has. She kisses her back, her own hands finding their way under Bellatrix's cloak, and then grunts with frustration when she is met with an unyielding corset.

Chuckling against her lips, Bellatrix shakes her head. "There is time for that later."

"But I want you," Hermione admits in a whisper, terrified of what her declaration reveals. Not that Bellatrix doesn't already know, of course, but it makes her feel vulnerable to say it out loud.

"And you can have me," Bellatrix answers, slipping her hand down the front of Hermione's jeans. "But first, let me have this. Let me have you like this. Just like this."

Hermione has no chance to reply, deft fingers slipping into her underwear and stroking confidently through her desire coated lips. She whimpers, wholly expecting the smirk Bellatrix throws her way, before the witch draws her into another kiss. As slim fingers dip lower, sinking into slick heat, Hermione stops thinking all together and begins to feel.

She lets herself relax, feeling herself expertly being brought to the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time. A thumb works its way around her clit, and it's only Bellatrix's body against hers that keeps her pinned against the tree and not falling to a heap on the floor.

"Fuck, Bellatrix," she blurts out, breaking from their kiss. Lips latch on to her neck, sucking the pliant flesh there and Hermione shivers in a way that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the witch that is making her feel more than Hermione has ever let herself feel before.

"That's it, Pet. Let go for me," Bellatrix instructs softly, and it's all the command she needs. Her eyes slam shut as she's catapulted over the edge, waves of pleasure rippling through her body in infinite bliss. Time stretches over vast distances, and when she opens her heavy lids again, Bellatrix has removed her hand. Warm arms wrap around her, and she hears the reassuring words whispered in her ear with some confusion.

"Shush," Bellatrix coos quietly, as Hermione realises that her face is wet. "You're okay."

She's too emotional to deny it, and she nods, dropping her head onto the witch's shoulder. Bellatrix just holds her tight, Hermione's own arms wrapped around the warm body in front of her as a shuddering sob wracks her body. She has no idea of how much time passes, but her legs are stiff and the cool air has made its way through her protective layers, chilling her to the bone. The warming charm she placed on herself when she came outside has long since worn off and she shivers.

"It's cold," Hermione eventually says, lifting her head. She accepts the handkerchief that Bellatrix smoothly pulls from her pocket, wiping her eyes and nose.

"I would really like it if you accompanied me upstairs to my wing, Hermione, but the choice is yours. If you wish to rejoin the party, then you can. No regrets, remember?"

It's not a decision that she needs to think twice about, nodding in the low light. "Take me to bed, Bellatrix," she whispers, nervously meeting dark eyes. The smile she receives is reassuring, arms tightening around her as Bellatrix's magic whisks them away to the previously unseen parts of Black Manor.

-xXx-

Bellatrix releases her gently, flicking her wand towards the candles in each corner, throwing the room into dancing shadows and light.

Hermione looks around Bellatrix's bedroom noting the warm maroon fabrics with surprise. The old house system of Hogwarts is history now, in an attempt to produce a more cohesive wizarding society without previous prejudices influencing things. However, whenever Hermione had imagined Bellatrix's bedroom - which, if she is honest, is a lot - she had envisioned dark ebony wood and forest green fabrics furnishing the place.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The floor is pale oak, as is the furniture, and the walls are soft cream with dark maroon woodwork around the skirting boards and door-frames. There is one whole wall in the same red, against which the imposing king size bed is set, and Hermione openly stares, swallowing audibly.

"Not quite what you were expecting?" Bellatrix asks, quirking an eyebrow upwards with a knowing smile.

Hermione shakes her head, smiling bashfully. "It's beautiful, but no. I'll admit I was expecting something darker. Mysterious."

Bellatrix grins, not offended in the slightest. "This room hides a great many secrets if you know where to look."

Wondering what Bellatrix means by that, she doesn't resist when soft hands take hers, guiding her towards the bed. She allows herself to be pulled into a kiss that has her toes curling and her lungs screaming for air by the time Bellatrix releases her. The buttons on her shirt are undone, and she gapes, wondering just when Bellatrix's deft fingers had managed to unfasten them.

She's not one to stand by and do nothing though, and she pushes Bellatrix back on the bed where the witch leans back on her arms. It's easy to see from her taunting smirk that she expects a show, and she's not one to ignore such an obvious challenge. Hermione gestures towards the record player in the corner, in an effortless display of wandless non-verbal magic that she knows has impressed the older witch.

As music starts, Hermione feels herself loosen up, gently swaying her hips in time to the music. She doesn't recognise the song that's playing, but it's easy to find her rhythm. Her jeans are still undone, so she kicks off her ankle boots and tucks her thumbs teasingly into the waistband of her jeans.

"Take them off," Bellatrix demands throatily.

"Patience," Hermione chides, grinning, but she does as she's told, shimmying out of her jeans and kicking them to one side. She stands there, one hand in either side of her open shirt. "Now you."

Bellatrix doesn't waste time. She doesn't tease and she doesn't draw the moment out, flicking her wand and leaving herself in a sheer black bra and matching thong that has Hermione's mouth watering. Even in the low light of the room, she can see the unmistakable damp patch on the scant fabric, feeling strangely proud that she is the one to have put it there.

"Continue," Bellatrix instructs, sitting back down on the bed.

Desperate to move things along, Hermione sheds her shirt, and toes off her socks, padding barefoot across the floor until she is standing in front of Bellatrix. Their eyes meet, and Bellatrix smiles wickedly, tilting her head up in invitation.

Stepping between parted legs, Hermione dips her head down to kiss her, shivering when light fingers stroke up the backs of her thighs. With a display of strength that takes Hermione by surprise, Bellatrix is on her feet, lifting Hermione and throwing her down on the bed with a smirk.

"That's better," Bellatrix remarks. Hermione's protests that it's her turn, are ignored, as she is guided up the bed until she is reclining against the pillows staring up at a very smug Bellatrix.

"All in good time, Pet. You have no idea how long I have wanted to do this. How I have imagined what you taste like, what sounds you might make coming undone."

Cheeks heating for the umpteenth time that night, Hermione shakes her head, baffled. "You have?"

"You thought this was one sided?" Bellatrix asks, moving forwards on her knees, until she is straddling Hermione's narrow hips, effectively pinning her there. "I have wanted to make you mine for a long time, Pet."

Hermione wants to ask more. Wants to know what Bellatrix means by that. She has no time to speak though, lips descending on hers and all rational thought leaving her mind. As she surrenders to the feeling of Bellatrix, she forgets her questions, overwhelmed by the exploring lips and teeth and tongue. Her nerves are on fire, burning her from head to toe as lips finally wrap around her nipple, drawing the peak between teeth.

She moans, fingers twining into dark, unruly hair, but she doesn't need to guide Bellatrix. A soft tongue is trailed down over her abdomen, and then Bellatrix pauses, making eye contact with her briefly. Nodding rapidly, Hermione is relieved that Bellatrix doesn't make her wait, moving down until she can draw her underwear down her legs, a strong tongue immediately dipping between her slick lips.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, Hermione's fingers tighten in Bellatrix's curls, her back arching into the pleasure bestowed upon her. Fingers slip inside her, and she can't help but cry out. "More, Bellatrix. More," she pleads.

A third finger fills her, and then lips wrap around her clit, stars dancing underneath her eyelids as she squeezes her eyes shut. Bellatrix is unrelenting, fucking her so deeply that the bed moves, banging against the wall in a way that Hermione hopes won't bring people upstairs to investigate.

Hermione spreads her legs further, willing the witch deeper. She's close now, so close that it's a wonder she hasn't completely toppled over the edge. Not sure what she is waiting for or why she is even trying, it all becomes clear when Bellatrix momentarily pulls back.

"Come for me, Pet," Bellatrix commands, her voice deep and hoarse.

And just like that, Hermione does. With a silent cry, she arches so hard that her back lifts off the bed, body shuddering through each wave of pleasure that Bellatrix coaxes from her. There is a humming in her ears, and tingling in her hands as her magic reaches out towards the other witch. Bellatrix seems to understand, clasping her hand with desire coated fingers and squeezing gently.

Exhausted, Hermione releases Bellatrix's now damp curls from her hands, dropping her arms heavily against the mattress. "Come here," she beckons to Bellatrix, fingers barely moving from the bed.

"You can rest. I'm in no rush," Bellatrix says softly, but Hermione shakes her head.

"No. Come here," she instructs again, and Bellatrix grins at her.

"Naughty," Bellatrix comments, but she's on her knees, smirking as she crawls up the bed without the need for further prompting, baring herself with a single flick of her wand. When she is finally in position - one knee on either side of Hermione's head - Hermione pulls her down onto her waiting mouth, groaning when she finally gets a taste of the dark witch.

-xXx-

Hermione stirs, a bright strip of light falling across her face that makes it impossible for her to sleep any longer. Stretching, her muscles are tight and sore and she smiles, remembering the night before. It had been nearly sunrise by the time they finally fell sated into the sheets, wrapping around each other and falling into a deep sleep.

The bed is empty. Hermione doesn't need to turn over to check, she knows. The room is too silent, not a single breath heard apart from her own, and she frowns. It's not like she hadn't known what this is. They had both gone into this eyes wide open, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed to be waking up alone.

Turning over and reaching across the bed, the sheets are cold. Just how early did Bellatrix get up? Could she really not wait to be away from Hermione? After everything the witch had said last night, did she wake up and regret it after all?

Hermione lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. How could she have been so stupid? One night was never going to be enough, no matter what she had tried to convince herself of. And now she's here alone, used and discarded just like all of the other women Hermione has seen hanging off of Bellatrix's arm.

She's been a fool to think it was ever anything more than what they shared last night. The bed suddenly feels hostile, and Hermione throws back the sheets, searching for her clothes. She feels a pang of sorrow when she sees how carefully Bellatrix has gathered and folded her clothes, leaving them on the overstuffed armchair next to the window.

Feet landing on the cold floorboards, Hermione gets up and stomps across the floor, practically skidding to a stop when she sees the simple piece of parchment on top of her jeans.

"I meant what I said. No regrets."

Seven words. It's just seven words but they make all the difference in the world and Hermione feels her lips tugging into a grin. She sniffs the air, the scent of coffee and toast reaching her, and she hopes. She hopes with all her heart that this means what she thinks it does, hurriedly getting dressed and slipping out of the door.

She's never been in this part of the manor before, but the route is fairly linear, and she's soon jogging down the central staircase, following the sound and scent of food being prepared. A smaller hallway opens up into a large kitchen where she finds Bellatrix standing at the stove, flipping something in the pan.

"Morning," Hermione says shyly, leaning against the door frame.

The smile Bellatrix offers her nearly knocks her off her feet. The witch carefully serves the pancake she is making onto a plate, leaving the pan off the heat, and walking over to Hermione without a moment of hesitation.

"Good morning. I made you breakfast," Bellatrix explains needlessly, and it's endearing how unsure of herself she seems. Hermione takes a chance, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"Thank you, Bellatrix."

"Bella," the witch corrects, leading her over to the table and pulling out a chair for her. Hermione sits, and waits patiently for Bellatrix to bring the coffee and their food to the table.

"So…" she starts, suddenly nervous. Making breakfast for someone is not exactly a declaration of love, and what if she's got this wrong? What if Bellatrix is just being polite.

"Stop," Bellatrix chides her gently. "I want this. I want you."

Surprised at the woman's candour, Hermione takes a moment to answer. "You do?"

"I lied last night," Bellatrix tells her so quietly it's almost a whisper. "I want so much more than one night."

"But… but why?"

It's not really what she wants to ask, but Hermione has no idea what the witch could possibly see in her, and it's the first thing that rolls off her tongue.

"You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?" Bellatrix asks.

Hermione shakes her head, feeling her cheeks heating up for what feels like the hundredth time since she first saw Bellatrix last night. "I just… I just don't understand."

"I could list a hundred reasons why I want this, but my words won't convince you of anything, Hermione, because you will never take them at face value."

Hermione looks up at her, surprised at just how well Bellatrix appears to know her.

Bellatrix continues. "So, if you will have me, then I intend to spend every day showing you just how much I want you. Just how much you mean to me, Pet." Bellatrix pauses, tilting her head to one side. "If that's something you would like?"

Hermione pushes her chair back, and for once she lets her heart control her head, slipping around the table until Bellatrix shifts her chair backwards slightly. Straddling her knees, she wraps her arms around Bellatrix's neck, leaning forwards to kiss her deeply.

Breakfast long forgotten, Hermione kisses her hungrily, pouring her emotions into the connection in the hopes that Bellatrix will understand what she finds it difficult to say. Breathless, Hermione pulls back with a giggle.

"Does that answer your question?"