October 19th 2000
Hermione stood waiting in the clearing, her boot tapping impatiently. Bellatrix had sent her an owl three hours ago and yet she still wasn't here. Where was that witch?
The bond thrummed aggressively, alerting her to the presence behind her. The smoke was clearing, leaving Bellatrix standing there. Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably, the silence stretching too long.
"So… what do you want? I assume you want something, considering you owled me to meet you."
Bellatrix shot her a poisonous look. Drawing herself up to her full height (Still a good three inches shorter than Hermione), she began to spit and hiss pureblooded rage.
"Do not speak out of turn to me, I am your superior you muddy little-"
Hermione huffed, staring down at Bellatrix. "Not anymore. Our blood is the same. You made sure of that."
Bellatrix was seemingly vibrating with rage, her fists clenching and unclenching. "How DARE you imply that we share any kind of similarity you Mudblood-"
"Call me mudblood one more time and you will never see your daughter again."
Hermione's voice was sharp and unbending, unyielding and she was completely serious. Bellatrix's mouth slammed shut. A cruel smile drew her thin lips tight into a savage grin.
"Woah woah, and the lioness shows her teeth! War has made you fierce, ain't it pet?"
"I don't like pet either." Hermione snarled. Bellatrix's grin only widened.
"Well pet, I quite enjoy the little nickname, I think it rather suits you."
Hermione's nostrils flared, but she kept quiet. Perhaps if she didn't argue, Bellatrix would drop it. Merlin blast it all, this woman was so infuriating. Bellatrix was fiddling with a bag at her side, causing Hermione to be very concerned. Just because Bellatrix's spells and teeth couldn't hurt Hermione didn't mean that she was necessarily immune to potions thrown at her.
Bellatrix managed to grasp the flask she had been looking for and held it out to Hermione.
"Drink."
"Yeah likely." Hermione scoffed. Bellatrix's eyes bored into her own, intense and uncomfortable. Hermione gulped a little, feeling naked under her gaze. Bellatrix huffed, and explained.
"It's only polyjuice potion, you'll need it where we're going."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the witch. "Can we even digest polyjuice potions?"
bellatrix stuck her nose in the air, looking rather offended that she would even ask. "I'm not an idiot, unlike someone else I know. Vampires can drink anything they like but eating shit stays in our stomachs. Drink it mudblo- Granger."
Hermione ignored the jibe and sniffed it. Her head jerked back from the foul smell, and her eyes started to water. Yep, this was definitely just polyjuice. She decided to trust Bellatrix, a strange decision that she was sure was influenced by the bond. Swallowing the foul concoction, she winced as her features changed. Her honey brown eyes turned a muddy green as her nose grew and her cheekbones sharpened. Her limbs became gangly and long as the transformation took place. Running to the lake in the clearing, she looked at her reflection.
"Ugh I look like a rat."
Bellatrix's cackle sent a shiver down her spine. Hermione could feel her approach, the bond thrumming once again. She stopped behind her and tapped her shoulder. Turning, Hermione felt a hand under her chin, raising her head.
"Very good Scabior, you look convincingly ugly. Hang on- nothing changed."
Hermione growled at the cruel comment, her voice far deeper than usual. "You turned me into Scabior? Nevermind, I honestly don't care. What's the need for such a complex… disguise?"
Bellatrix uncorked her own vial, chugging the contents with a disgusted look on her face. Her own features began to stretch and change, becoming shorter and rounder, her face squishing in on itself a little. Her new voice was rough, and jarring to the ear.
"We're breaking one of your guys out from the security complex in Dublin. Will I think his name was? No. Billy? I don't know. Minnie sent me an owl about it."
"Did you mean Bill? Finally, Took McGonagall long enough. I've been wanting him out since your lot got him."
Bellatrix peered into the pond, scrunching her face in disgust. "Not my lot anymore pet. Ugh I look absolutely horrid. We've wasted enough time nattering. I don't want to have to spend any more time in your horrid muddy presence then I have to."
Hermione stuck her tongue out at the witch, her childishness seemingly rubbing off on Hermione. "The feelings mutual Lestrange. Let's get a move on."
Bellatrix roughly grabbed Hermione's arm and apparated them away.
Unknown
"-Poppy why would ye put her under-"
"-you don't understand-"
"-sorry Mione-"
August 9th, 2002, 4am
Hermione woke from her dream, a fever dream that had compiled so many memories into one that she had trouble recalling them. Her bed was warm, and oh so comfortable. She shifted a little, then froze.
Someone's arms were around her. Why hadn't she woken up? She slowly turned, her fangs ready to rip the intruder apart. Her heart calmed as the bond called out to the other in her bed. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Just Bellatrix. She couldn't hurt her.
When did waking up to find Bellatrix Lestrange in her bed become comforting rather than terrifying? She repressed a snort. The witch was so much more adorable asleep than awake, her brow relaxed as they never were, and her lips no longer spitting out curses or angry words. Her nose had a little bump in it, most likely having been broken and not healed correctly.
Bellatrix's arms strangely felt rather secure, a fact Hermione found very disconcerting.
The bond thrummed contentedly, humming in tune with the witch next to her. The last time Bellatrix had come to see her like this had been when Hermione had been captured by a group of Death Eaters and tortured to near death. They had carved words into her back, inspired by Bellatrix. The cursed words throbbed in unison.
The mudblood scar still gave her the worst trouble of the lot, but with some spells and a daily bandaging routine, the bleeding was at least manageable. Hmm. Hermione wondered if perhaps mixing some dragon scales into an essence of-
"Granger, I can feel you thinking. Go to sleep so you can stop making me feel like shit."
Hermione winced.
"Sorry Bellatrix, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm sleeping now."
Bellatrix only groaned, flinging her arm off of Hermione. "Shhh." Dozing off back to sleep, Hermione found herself just a little colder.
When Hermione next woke, Bellatrix was gone. She didn't think too much about the way her chest ached a little at the thought. It was probably the bloody bond's fault. Hermione's brow furrowed a little. Speaking of the bond, it was behaving rather oddly. Their 'sire' bond was supposed to have diminished already, and instead it seemed to almost be strengthening. Something was amiss. She could feel it in her waters.
Her musings were interrupted by Minerva McGonagall coming into the room with a cup of something steaming. Her nose twitched, smelling the scent of blood. "Miss Granger, how did ye sleep?"
She passed across the mug which Hermione peered at suspiciously. "You aren't going to make me sleep again? I know you put Ron up to drugging me."
Minerva smiled thinly. "Actually, thet wasn't my doing. Poppy decided te put you under again without my input."
Hermione sniffed the blood again, and satisfied, drank it. She finished off the beverage and stared at Minerva. "Professor, if I may, why are you here? You wouldn't usually be the one responsible for bringing an injured soldier breakfast."
Minerva pursed her lips. "Yes, about that. Ye recall how we were having a conversation before yer friends burst in?"
Hermione scrunched her eyes, trying to remember. "About… Bellatrix?" She ventured cautiously. Minerva nodded seriously.
"Yes, about Miss Black. She came te check on you not once but twice over the two days you were asleep, once without even trippin the wards. I found her asleep in the bed with ye."
A moment passed. Minerva quirked an eyebrow. Hermione's face colored, realizing what Minerva was implying. "Professor, I assure you that it's- I would never- it's not what you think it is-" Hermione spluttered, trying to defend her actions.
"Then tell me what this is Miss Granger! Why did I find her in your bed?"
Hermione didn't look her in the eye, instead staring at a painting on the wall of some kind of field of flowers. She sighed, and feeling that she had no choice, began to recount how it had begun.
"It first happened after the night of our first mission went terribly wrong…"
October 19th, 2000
"Weasley, get your ass out of here. I'll fix her, just go."
Bill stared into the spot where her eyes would have been barring the mask. "How can you ask me to leave her alone with you?"
Bellatrix ripped her mask off, eyes narrowed into slits. "I physically can't hurt her, I'm her sire. It's completely impossible, I've tried."
He drew his wand, preparing to duel, but Hermione cried out in pain, drawing both of their attention to her.
Her entire jaw and throat was covered in a spattering of blood, thankfully not her own, from an unexpected blood rage that had come upon her during the mission. She had torn out multiple Death Eaters' throats and went on a rampage, nearly killing Bill until Bellatrix had stepped in. In that time, Hermione had been hit by the interitus curse, which was now trying its very hardest to kill her.
Bellatrix began casting nonverbal healing spells, moving hurriedly. Bill watched in awe at her skill. Feeling useless, he uncomfortably asked Bellatrix a question.
"How can I help?"
Bellatrix growled in frustration. "Go to McGonagall and tell her that you're fine. Tell her we're debriefing or some shit, I don't care, but get out of my hair."
Bill looked her in the eye, his steely blue ones locking onto hers.
"Make the unbreakable vow with me."
Bellatrix scoffed, still working to stop the necrosis from destroying Hermione's organs. "You can't be serious." His gaze only hardened. "If you don't, I will turn you in, I swear it."
Casting a look at Hermione, who was writhing in pain on the ground, Bellatrix looked back to Bill. She cast a slowing charm on Hermione, to give herself enough time to do the vow. Bellatrix grabbed Bill's hand aggressively, gripping it tight.
"Do it quickly or make no mistake, she will die."
Bill cast the charm and shook her hand, before apparating away. Bellatrix returned to trying to heal Hermione, feeling the curse reflect in her own body as if it were her own pain.
The interitus curse was particularly nasty, designed to make the victim begin to decay from the inside out. It had been designed by Antonin Dolohov, one of her ex school buddies, who was excelled at potions and charms, many times trying to combine them to create new interesting ways to execute his foes. Thankfully, despite its deadly properties, it was a slow acting curse, which is why Hermione hadn't even noticed she had been hit until nearly too late.
As Bellatrix worked, Hermione's face, which had previously been a decaying gray color, began to turn pink again. Hermione stopped thrashing around so much, her breathing returning to a much more normal rate. Her eyes opened, and her brow creased.
"Lestrange… did we get Bill out?"
The gray color completely disappeared, and with it, most of the pain that Bellatrix was feeling. She slumped in relief. Hermione tried to sit up, her side cramping painfully.
"We did. He's gone back to McGonagall to report. Can you sit up properly?"
Hermione nodded. "I think I can- yes. What happened? Where did all this blood come from..?"
"You went into a bloodlust. Our side was fine, the other side less so. I counted five dead from you before you got hit."
Hermione scratched at the blood, trying to clean it off. Bellatrix went to help Hermione clean her face of the caking of blood, but retracted her hand swiftly. Touching mudblood offal was below a woman of her stature.
A woman who was currently sitting in the mud.
In the middle of the night.
Also caked in blood.
The point was moot, she would not be forced by some bond to feel any kind of sympathy for the mudblood. Bellatrix's features snapped back into the harsh mask once again as she stood.
"As much as I would completely adore staying here for the remainder of my precious evening, I want to go home to my own fucking bed. Get up Granger."
Hermione grumbled a little. "You'd think having a near death experience would entitled a witch to some time off-"
"Yeah not when said witch was stupid enough to get cursed in the first place. Grab my arm, I'll help you walk back to Grimmauld. We're in the clearing nearby, it shouldn't be far."
The walk back was uneventful, both Hermione and Bellatrix deep in thought, not up for the banter they had developed. When they finally arrived, Bellatrix helped Hermione up the fire escape into her room. Hermione doubled over in pain, but managed to stand herself back up. She noticed that Bellatrix too had grunted in pain. Her eyes widened, realization hitting her.
"You can feel my pain, can't you."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "No shit Granger. Haven't you been feeling mine lately?"
Hermione only looked at her quizzically. "No? My aches and pains are just normal level body issues?"
Bellatrix cast a silencing charm of some kind on herself and screamed, throwing herself onto Hermione's bed, kicking her legs about angrily. Hermione watched, amused to see the witch in such a kerfuffle.
"Bellatrix? Are you ok?" She ventured cautiously. The silencing charm canceled out, Bellatrix's muffled voice came through her blanket.
"Bite me Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes at the dramatics. Bloody theatrical vampires.
"Yeah, no, you started this mess by biting me. It's your own fault."
Bellatrix's reply was muffled into the pillow, unintelligible.
Grabbing a book on the bond she had found in the library earlier that day, Hermione flipped to where she had left off, intending to try to find a reason for their uncanny connection. Suddenly, the book levitated out of her hands.
Frustrated Hermione's nostrils flared. "Bellatrix, give it back."
Bellatrix glared at her. "Nope. I'm leaving, and you will go to sleep."
Hermione tried to summon it back, but Bellatrix held it firmly. She tried another approach, appealing to Bellatrix's need for knowledge and power.
" I have to read about this, this phenomenon is unheard of, or at least so far undocumented how could I leave this until- OOF."
Hermione was magically deposited onto her bed. She attempted to get back up again, but found Bellatrix crawling into bed with her. She began to argue with the witch, irritated and in extreme pain.
"Bellatrix, you cannot stay with me, what happens if someone walks in-"
Bellatrix cut her off. "You won't sleep if I leave you alone, and the amount of pain you are in is going to prevent me from bloody sleep so Merlin help me I will make you rest."
Hermione tried to think of some reason to stay awake, to keep fighting sleep, but found her eyes rebelliously trying to close on themselves. A yawn escaped from her mouth as she snuggled into her side of the bed.
"Fine… you win… goodnight Lestrange."
And with that, she drifted off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 9th, 2002
"-and so pretty much since then, whenever I've been in a scuffle that's damaged me beyond easy repair, she's shown up because my pain interferes in her day too much."
"How did Miss Weasley never notice Bellatrix's comings and goings?" Minerva questioned.
Hermione bit her lip. This was going to be uncomfortable.
"Well, her and Harry have been a thing for like four years now…"
Minerva raised an eyebrow at her. "Go on Miss Granger?"
Hermione sighed. "Ginny and Harry spend most nights together now, when one of them isn't on night duty. They're healthy young adults, you know how it is, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much-"
Minerva stopped her. "Nevermind, I wish I hadn't asked."
Ginny and Harry weren't exactly concerned about privacy. "Yeah, I had the, uh, pleasure of walking in on them. Trust me, knocking is an essential skill I learned in this building."
Minerva shuddered a little. Gathering her robes, she rose from the edge of Hermione's bed.
"Well Miss Granger, it seems that whatever this bond has created has affected you both in a very strange manner, and I am powerless to stop it. She may continue to come and go, but must remain hidden. The mole must not find out, it would risk both of your lives."
Hermione was surprised at McGonagall's acceptance, aware there was probably some other meddling going on beneath the surface, but she left it well enough alone, deciding that it wasn't worth pursuing.
"Thank you Professor, I understand."
"It isn't as if I ever coulda stopped the two of ye from doin anything ye put yer mind te."
McGonagall left after that comment, leaving Hermione by herself. She began to fluff up her pillow, hitting it so it would lie flat, but her hands hit something solid.
Frowning, Hermione peeled the pillow backwards carefully, and found a brown leather covered book sitting there snugly.
She squinted at the book, not recognising its cover, and after checking if it was cursed, opened it to the first page and found a note scrawled in loopy handwriting.
"As the Dark Lord is requesting my audience more and more frequently, I have decided it is far more prudent to discuss plans through a different means, rather than meeting fortnightly. ~ B"
Hermione read it out softly to herself. She scrambled to find a quill and hurriedly penned a reply.
"Very well, this seems wise. ~ H"
Hermione went to shut the book, but she noticed the loopy writing begin to cross its pages once again. She laid it flat on her bed, reading the note with a growing grin, ideas whirling in her unstoppable mind.
She closed the book gently, careful not to damage it's pages and nimbly hopped out of bed, going out her door to find Ron.
Oh he was going to be very pleased with what she had learned.
On the eighth of every month, the Orders strategic department met to plan out the month ahead, not only the raids but the supplies the order required to keep running. At the head of the department was Ron Weasley, a master chess player both figuratively and literally. Molly Weasley ran the storage department with Percy's help, and they were responsible for helping foresee what the Order would need for the future.
Luna was a rather new addition to the department, but already she had proven to be invaluable. As a seer, although she wasn't like Trelawney, having only ever had one prophecy come to her before, but her hunches often proved to be right. Other than this, she had a natural ability to tell which move that someone is going to make next, something many members of the Order found very irritating on game night.
Percy was sat next to Oliver Wood, the head of the broom squad, a tactical defensive team that was often deployed during raids. He was fidgety, but as Percy's hand found his own, his leg jitters calmed a little. Minerva had always suspected Wood of having some form of ADHD, but had never brought it up, instead just put him on the quidditch team and hoped he would figure himself out.
Ron coughed, bringing up the plans. "Hermione gave me some very interesting information about our spies plans for the upcoming few weeks, including a Death Eater revel taking in two days, on the full moon. Our spy will be responsible for putting Fenrir under, or sending him elsewhere."
Percy looked at Ron quizzically. "I don't follow. What exactly is our plan for tomorrow night?"
Ron's eyes got a strange glint about them, reminding Percy of eyes he had seen on the battlefield. Crazy, mad ones.
"We're going to blow up Malfoy Manor."
