The following day, Hermione Granger felt lost. And when she felt lost, she found herself in books, which is where a certain blonde haired slytherin found her. Huddled in a corner, with a stack of books practically encompassing her like her own private castle. Draco sidled in beside Hermione, leaning back in his chair and humming in thought as he watched the bright witch in amusement. She had been so engrossed in the book she was reading that she didn't even notice him.

He took a peek at the cover; 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. His nose wrinkled at the muggle title and raised a brow as he looked at Hermione.

"What on earth is 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'?" He voiced his disgust for the book, crossing his arms and smirking in amusement as the brunettes eyes finally met his, a look of surprise in her gaze.

"It's—.." Hermione hesitated, she had been so caught up in the words on the page that she hadn't even acknowledged Draco's presence. "It's one of my favourite books." She finished after a moment, her gaze darting back to the book as she closed it, her thumb tracing the cover before placing it atop one of the many piles.

Draco watched curiously, recognising that something was disarray within Hermione. He hummed and folded his hands behind his back as he looked ahead at the rows of books ahead of them.

"You going to tell me what's wrong? Or do I have to jinx you?" He grinned at her playfully, amused by the eye roll the girl in question gave him.

Hermione inhaled deeply, she had tried not to think about last night but perhaps getting it off her chest would do her a world of good.

"I slept with Harry."

Okay.

So, that certainly wasn't what Draco was expecting. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he stared at Hermione who started to rub her temples. He cleared his throat, fighting for his composure as he tried not to laugh at the brightest witch of her age.

"Okay—-" and before he could finish, Hermione began rambling, her gaze conflicted and he could practically see the wheels in her head spinning.

"We hadn't slept together since—

"You slept together more than once?" Draco interjected in surprise, his amusement growing by the minute, this was like a birthday present, as if he had been given lifetime access to a millionaire's vault at Gringotts. It was brilliant and incredibly hilarious. At Hermione's look of embarrassment and disdain he broke into laughter as she responded.

"Whatever it doesn't matter." She grumbled, flustered and in need of a vent. Her emotions felt like a bubbling cauldron and this was the perfect chance to let it bubble over without judgement. Well, perhaps a little judgement, this is Draco after all. "My point is… it was the first time where it didn't feel, I don't know, right?" She sighed as she rubbed her temples, hoping Draco would understand what she meant.

Draco took a breath, steadying himself as he tried not to break into more laughter. He hummed in amusement as he leaned back in his chair.

"Okay…number one; that's incredible, I cannot believe it. Number two; we're definitely coming back to the fact that you slept with The Harry Potter more than once." He couldn't help chuckle teasingly before he gave Hermione a more sympathetic look. He leaned forward and sighed, giving his full attention to the girl. "But for now, tell me why it didn't feel right?"

"It just didn't — I couldn't stop thinking about—" Hermione stopped short, biting her tongue to stop herself from uttering the dark witch's name. "Someone else." The young slytherin raised a brow at her in return, his gaze searching as he tried to make sense of Hermione's verbal vomit.

"Well… who were you thinking about?" He asked, his tone curious, interest piqued before his face drained of colour and his nose crinkled in disgust as he took in Hermione's embarrassed expression. "Oh merciful Salazar, please don't tell me you were thinking of that buffoon, Ronald Weasley." Hermione physically recoiled at his suggestion and he let out a noticeable sigh of relief at the look of disgust in his friend's eyes.

"No!" Hermione couldn't help but screech, earning a dark look from the librarian stacking books across the way. The brunette's cheeks coloured an embarrassingly coral pink and she groaned quietly, covering her face and apologising under her breath before settling a pointed glare Draco's way. "God, no. I was thinking about… a girl."

Draco met Hermione's glare fearlessly, however after those words left her lips, he couldn't help but feel a little stupefied. "Oh." He snorted in amusement, a very unmalfoy-like thing to do before he grinned. "Didn't think that out of everyone here, my biggest competition with girls would be you." He laughed as he shook his head, though Hermione didn't seem amused, in fact she looked rather disgruntled, her brow slightly raised and slightly ticking as her irritation with the blonde grew. Draco's laugh tapered into a soft chuckle as he leaned his elbows on some of the stacked books. His tone shifted into something more curious, more gentle as he pursed his lips. "So, why did you sleep with Harry?"

The brunette grumbled quietly, closing her eyes as she let her head thunk on the book in front of her. She breathed in the scent of ink and parchment, the scent helping to mellow her tumultuous anxiety but also giving her a healthy reminder of dark black curls and a teasing smirk. She exhaled slowly, her thoughts like paper that had been soaked, each fibre unravelling in soppy mess. She didn't have a reason for sleeping with Harry other than… other than she thought it would be a distraction.

"I don't know, Draco. I was frustrated. Furious at Ron, and just upset at… well at everything." She started quietly, slowly opening her eyes to stare off at one of the rows of book, her gaze lazily tracing the lettering of each title, 'Carmilla'. A great book, another one of her favourites. She wondered if Bellatrix would enjoy it?

And there she goes again, why did the dark witch invade every waking moment of her mind? It was like someone had cast obliviate on her to forget everything except Bellatrix.

Hermione huffed in annoyance before she continued, her voice more of a distant murmur as she recalled her interaction with Harry. "He kissed me, and I… I guess I thought it would help. It used to."

"But it didn't this time." Draco hummed pensively, studying the girl wonders' actions. He had seen Hermione furious, calculated, focused, upset, but this emotion was rare. This flustered state was something unknown to him and he found it rather curious that some girl could have the brain of the trio this tangled up.

"No."

"Because you've got your head twisted by a girl."

A beat of silence. Hermione's eyes meeting Draco's. His eyes glimmering with mild amusement and concern as he leant his cheek against his knuckles. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Yes."

"Wow." Draco couldn't help but smirk, playful mirth in his eyes as he teased the brainiac. "Who would have thought that out of all of your experiences; from three-headed dogs, to giant spiders and basilisks, that it would be a girl crush that took down the great Hermione Granger."

The gryffindor in question huffed, her gaze indignant but flustered as she pouted at her blonde counterpart.

"What do I do, Draco?"

"Well, not sleeping with Harry would be a start." He grinned at her playfully, delighting in Hermione's resulting glare as she smacked his arm.

"Gee, thanks so much for the insight, Draco. Truly impeccable work, you should be a guidance counsellor." She griped in mild annoyance, her expression deadpan. The slytherin rolled his eyes in response; a wide grin on his face as he gently nudged her, his expression a tad more tender as he comforted his friend.

"So you slept with him, big deal." He chuckled. And for a moment he searched Hermione's distant gaze before he sighed, his blue eyes holding a firmer look to them. "Do you want to do it again?"

"…. No." She murmured quietly. The thought of being with Harry so intimately again was in and of itself inherently foul. Not as abhorrent as the idea of anyone suggesting that she and Ron were an item, but still offensive to her. Sleeping with Harry again was another stark reminder that they were nothing more than friends. Especially given that the entire time she could only think about Bellatrix. It was like the dark witch had cast a spell on her; what a cliche.

"Well there you go, no problem. Do you want to sleep with this mysterious girl?" Draco mused, absently scratching his chin as he glanced at the brunette who now had her cheek pressed against the cover of one of the many books sprawled out before her. At his question; Hermione's eyes widened, a blush darker than a Chinese Fireball dragon on her cheeks as she sat up and stuttered uselessly.

"What?! No! I just— maybe? I don't know." She groaned as she ran a hand through her hair, pushing locks of cinnamon waves out of her face. She huffed as she looked down at the book she had been resting her cheek on. Lost in thought before she parted her lips to continue, her voice softer than before, pensive as she unintentionally started voicing her thoughts. "I just enjoy spending time with her. She's intuitive, brilliant, a pain but playful. She makes me laugh… Merlin, even when she's being rude and irritating, I like her. She's fierce, loyal, even with this darkness about her, and—"

"Merlin, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're describing my aunt." Draco chortled quietly, in awe of Hermione's description and unable to hold back from poking fun at the golden girl. The faint fondness and affection in her gaze, one that Draco enjoyed. It was nice seeing Hermione not so entangled in all the darkness that embodied her experiences of not just the war, but her life.

Hermione bristled at his comment, her fingers curling into her palms and that precious blush in her cheeks swallowed up by a nervous pale white as she scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. The pit in her stomach felt like a colossal weight. Her heart collided against her ribcage unsteadily, her aortic valves working overtime as her pulse thumped in her ears in an anxiety riddled drumline.

"Don't be absurd!" She scowled, the venomous denial almost dripping from her lips, her gaze narrowed as she tried vehemently to dissuade Draco from that line of thought. Draco, for his part raised a brow in surprise at the over reaction of the bright witch. He raised his hands in faux surrender as he gave Hermione a reassuring grin, hoping to calm the girl down.

"Relax, I know you're not. It was a joke, Granger. Obviously." He chuckled as he watched mortified bashfulness cross the girl's expression. "So you're all butterflies and fairies over this girl. Why not explore things with her?"

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." He smiled in amusement and sympathy as he patted the gryffindors shoulder. "But you're Hermione Granger. Brains of the golden trio. What's stopping you?"

Hermione knew exactly what was stopping her, duty, her professionalism, her history with Bellatrix, the fact that she didn't know how much more time she had in this timeline; that if anyone found out, Draco included, that she would mostly certainly be jailed for treason or sent to St Mungo's. However, she couldn't exactly admit all of that to Draco. It was similar to the discussion she and Harry had last night, and it all kept coming back to one question; was Bellatrix worth it?

She sighed, unsure what to respond, smoothing her hair back in frustration before her gaze settled back onto the novel 'Carmilla'. She traced her fingertips up the spine of the book, before she slipped it into her bag without another thought, unaware of Draco watching in moderate curiosity.

"For your secret girlfriend?" He mused, his tone only slightly teasing. His smile stretching into a more mischievous grin when Hermione threw him a lighthearted glare.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Mhm, right."

The two settled into a comfortable banter with Draco filling in Hermione on how his recovery was going after his incident with Ron, how his family were doing, Bellatrix's progress, until they settled into a comfortable silence. Draco lazily twirling his wand in his hand, whilst Hermione quietly pondered over what they had discussed, and more importantly what she felt.

Draco occasionally glanced at the bright witch, his own thoughts slightly troubled, he had initially come to find Hermione to discuss her progress with Bellatrix, as well as to inform her of crucial news. However, seeing the state she was in he knew he couldn't just approach it from the start, but he couldn't keep waiting anymore, the order needed Hermione to get back in the game. He inhaled deeply as he finally broke the silence.

"Not to be a mood killer, Hermione, but have you heard the update regarding you-know-who?"

Hermione met Draco's eyes with a more reserved guard in place. She sighed and folded her arms, tapping her nails against her arm.

"Harry said he would fill me in later today." She responded curtly, perhaps a little too defensively, however Draco took it in stride, his grin wide and impish.

"I'm sure he will." He snickered lightheartedly, warning a glare from the witch who grumbled her response. A very clever;

"Shut up."

Draco laughed good-naturedly as he rolled his eyes, taking a breath to calm down before he revealed the more serious nature of his line of questioning.

"I'll tell you now so it's not a surprise. We found tracks in the enchanted forest. Wolf tracks. Giant ones." He started intently, his gaze stern and eager as Hermione's gaze locked with his. "You know what this means?"

"Werewolves." She breathed quietly, forcing a sound of surprise into her voice as if she didn't already have an idea that this was the case. If the order knew this much, she would have to work faster with Bellatrix, which was not ideal.

"They're hiding him just like we thought. Aurors have been stationed to see if they can find any more traces, but Hermione… we could really use Bellatrix." Draco spoke carefully, his gaze searching hers, hoping that the bright witch would understand the importance of this. He watched as Hermione glanced away, her grip on her arms tightening.

"I know… I'm on it…"

"Time is important here, Hermione. I've heard rumours that those who opposed your idea, Molly Weasley and her flock of imbeciles are gathering." He hesitated to say more, knowing that Hermione would be furious with what he had to say next. He sighed as he steeled himself. "They want to file a report that it's taking too long to get Bellatrix to our side. They're going to petition for a retrial if there isn't significant advancement on finding he-who-shall-not-be-named." Hermione bristled at the revelation. She should have planned for this. Of course Molly would try something so underhanded even though progress with Bellatrix was going well.

"It's only been a few months, how can they expect someone who has been through what she has to recover that quickly? To open up that quickly?" Hermione countered defensively, to which Draco sighed and patted her shoulder supportively.

"I know Hermione, but it wouldn't hurt to try and get something out of her, right?"

Hermione sighed, her mind spinning as she tried to figure out what to do. When she came up short, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She had no choice.

"… Right."

Draco heaved a sigh of relief and smiled reassuringly.

"Alright… so, when will you try?"

Four days.

Four days had passed since the incident with the little Weasley boy. Four days since Hermione had actually visited her. She had known the girl had stopped by more than once to improve wards and improve the defences for this stupid safe house but had she stepped in?

No.

And boy did that piss Bellatrix off. The dark witch growled in frustration as she paced the living room. She had read every single book she had been given again, had counted the tiles on the kitchen floor three times, she even brushed her teeth. Rigorously. She had changed clothes a hundred times before settling on a simple pair of black fitted trousers and a button up shirt with traces of purple in the fabric.

She was fed up with waiting. Fed up of this incessant purgatory of not knowing when her little witch would return.

The.

The little witch… not 'her' little witch.

Merlin, her father would be tossing in his grave, clawing his way out of hell to chuck her back in with the dogs to punish her for having such blood traitor thoughts and feelings. She growled furiously as she felt uncontrollable anger building in her, her magic desperate for freedom from the bracelets imprisoning her power. It was moments like this that made her feel like a feral animal. A dog in a cage. The irony in that would be funny if it wasn't so cruel. She had spent her life in cages. Her fathers with the dogs that tried to tear her to shreds, Voldemorts, Azkaban. At least this prison had a soft bed.

Bellatrix flopped onto the couch, her arm covering her eyes as she sighed heavily. She replayed the memory of the incident in her mind, her thoughts circling around the moment where she started to shift. She could feel her bloodlust, that more feral part of her surfacing. She could barely make out Hermione's outline, her vision slightly blurred as adrenaline and rage pumped through her system, hot and hungry and vicious, her fangs aching for vengeance.

Then in a moment of foolish courage, the gryffindor managed to pull her out of her own primal nature with a simple touch. And it felt as if all that carnal chaos just fizzled away. As if all that violence literally drained from her body, flushed away by gentle fingertips and eyes the colour of a warm fire.

She replayed that moment over and over. Analysing each moment, each emotion, each expression of the young witch. She needed to understand what transpired for the girl to be able to pull her out of her shift with such ease.

During this internal analysation, Bellatrix recalled something a more experienced wolf had once said to her. About how all werewolves need an anchor. Something to keep them human. To protect their humanity. To keep them grounded.

Bellatrix never really understood it, the only anchor she ever needed was Cissy and Andy, but even they couldn't stop her transformations. The only way she learned control was through pain and violence. Her father started that process, Voldemort had Dimitri completed it. The only reason she learned to shift at will was because Dimitri had commanded her too, and she couldn't deny the alpha even if she wanted to. The pain of resisting was almost as bad as cursed spells, anytime she tried was like having a wire wrapped around her throat, suffocating her whilst it felt like knives drilled into her head. It was not an experience she cared to repeat more than the few times she did.

So for her to suddenly shift back without Dimitri's influence was… confusing, terrifying even. It suggested that whatever she felt for the witch was on the same level of fear she toward Dimitri.

Was Hermione an anchor?

Could she really feel that strongly for the muggleborn? A mudblood?

Bellatrix thought about Hermione. The flush in the girls cheeks, that slightly dazed look in her eyes when they were so close to… to crossing that line. The way the witch's breath would hitch, the change in her voice to something soft and uncertain. Her scent. The denial of whatever was going on between them.

Her mind felt like a mess because of the brunette. A hot mess. But a mess nonetheless. She had recurring dreams of the little witch in precarious positions; against the counter, in her bed, the couch. It was infuriating how the witch seemed to infect every fibre of her being, and the worst part is… she liked it. Hell, she loved it. Hermione Granger was freeing, a breath of fresh air, a reminder of that very first sip of firewhisky; tempting and utterly intoxicating.

Merlin, she had it bad for the younger witch.

Anchor or not; Hermione had managed to weave herself into the crevices of Bellatrix's psyche.

The dark witch groaned in frustration. Of all the people to fall for; she had to fall for her.

To add to her growing annoyance, the days without the witch around felt slow, and she hated slow. After the third day of counting tiles and reading books, she had resigned herself to looking out the window. Hermione had the decency to improve the wards so that Bellatrix could actually enjoy the scenery. Which is what she often found herself doing, her gaze often set on the birds nesting in the trees close by, the stray rabbit that would dart through the lush brushes, the blurs of foxes and deer passing by. And surprisingly, birdsong, faint but a sweet melody. Surprisingly her favourite part. There was something about the songs birds sing for each other, the tunes, the chosen patterns for changes in rhythm and pitch. She wondered what it meant, for a bird to sing. If they had their own little world in which the language of song meant something more. And as she moped around waiting for Hermione Granger, Bellatrix found herself wondering if the brightest witch of her age would know the answer.

Thankfully, those questions wouldn't have to wait long, as later that evening, Hermione knocked on the front door and walked in causing Bellatrix to freeze in place. The two locked eyes, silence in the room.

Hermione shifted on her feet, she had prepared herself for this moment, she had a speech ready. Yet when her eyes met the dark oceanic pools of Bellatrix, her words vanished on the tip of her tongue. Hermione glanced around the room, her gaze immediately finding that a vase of flowers from Bellatrix's bedroom had been moved to the window in the living room. And she couldn't help but smile at that, because of course Bellatrix would do such a thing.

"You moved the vase." Hermione hummed in quiet amusement. Observing how Bellatrix's head whipped around to the window and for a moment the witch seemed stunned before she let out a cackle and shook her head in disbelief.

"You avoid me for days on end and that's the first thing you say to me? You really do have toads for brains." The dark witch grinned playfully. And despite her snarky comment, Hermione could hear the teasing tone in the witch's husky voice, and it made her feel strangely ten times better. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled, really smiled. Her lips quirked in a soft and genuine way that made Bellatrix pause in her laughter.

"Is that your way of saying you missed me?" Hermione retorted teasingly, closing the door before she crossed her arms. Bellatrix blinked in surprise at that question, playful or not, she considered answering truthfully.

"I missed your voice filling the silence of this shithole." She sneered back, though there was no malice in her tone. Hermione in turn laughed and crossed the distance between the door and the couch, taking a seat tentatively on the opposite side of Bellatrix, fighting back a blush at the dark witch's sly compliment. Bellatrix watched quietly before without thinking, a question left her lips unbidden. "What took you so long?" Her voice was surprisingly tender. Longing. And it was enough to make Hermione glance away, embarrassed by her own lack of courage, she was meant to be a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake. She swallowed and sighed, settling back against the couch

How could it be so easy to talk to Bellatrix? As if everything was okay, as if nothing had happened. The care, undeniable in the two's shared look of mutual longing. Hermione inhaled sharply, she needed to divert the conversation.

"I brought you a new book." She answered avoidantly, pulling the novella from her bag and setting it on the cushion separating the two. Bellatrix's gaze dropped to the title, surprised, and a little touched. She had a feeling that the muggleborns habit of sharing literature was a way of connecting. There was a simple divinity within sharing something you enjoyed with another person. And Bellatrix was more than a willing subject to Hermione's enjoyments. The dark witch hummed as she examined the book, her brows raised curiously as she let out a dry chuckle.

"Wow, more muddy literature. Riveting." She mused as she flipped the book open, briefly studying the text.

"I think you'll like it, it's called 'Carmilla' by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu." Hermione explained softly, her gaze warm and perhaps a little fond as she watched the black haired witch get lost in the words.

"Carmilla? The vampire myth?" Bellatrix glanced up at Hermione's voice, her gaze curious. Hermione in turn grinned triumphantly, giggling at the curious gaze of the dark witch.

"So you know of it?"

"Not your dumb book, I know the legends." Bellatrix grumbled, sneering as her fingers deftly flipping through pages.

Hermione smiled fondly at Bellatrix's sneer, her heart swelling at the sight of Bellatrix flipping through the pages with open interest.

"Who knew a muggleborn like you would have a book like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," Bellatrix snorted at Hermione's defensive tone. She grinned impishly as she set the book down on the table and chuckled. "You're just so tight laced most of the time, and here you are with a forbidden and doomed romance novel."

"Yeah, well, I have my surprises." The brunette countered teasingly, a small smile on her lips as she giggled causing a warmth to blossom in Bellatrix's chest.

Was it really this easy? Had it always been so simple between them?

Bellatrix studied the witch; her warmth, the simple kindness of Hermione Granger and the way that sweet smile made her heart pound faster.

"You certainly do." The dark witch murmured, her tone fond, perhaps even affection. She eyed the book once more before her gaze trailed back to Hermione. She studied the other witch, noting the slight colour in her cheeks. "I take it you dealt with the little weasel?"

Hermione stiffened briefly at the dark witch's question, the reminder of her conversation with Ron a slightly sore subject, even now. She sighed as she forced herself to relax, folding her hands in her lap.

"I did." She responded calmly, her gaze firm as she looked at Bellatrix who simply chuckled, curiosity dancing in her black eyes.

"How did it go?"

"He's aware of the consequences of doing something so stupid again." The gryffindor spoke curtly, a scowl in place at the thought of one Ronald Weasley ever coming near her or Bellatrix again.

Bellatrix hummed in amusement before she let out a cackle, impressed by the genuine rage and hatred in the little witch's eyes.

"Sounds like you gave him a bollocking. Good." And with that, Bellatrix relaxed, kicking her feet up on the table as she snickered at her conjured image of Hermione torturing the rotten boy. She had an inkling the boy fancied her little witch and it stroked her ego that Hermione clearly resented him. "Offers still on the table you know? I could just kill him." As the dark haired witch mirthfully ran away with her imagination of tearing apart the weasel, Hermione studied her features, her eyes searching for any indication of the incident four days ago. Seeing no physical harm reassured Hermione; however she was not a fool. She knew Bellatrix had trauma, she saw the look of resignation in her eyes when Ron had callously shot spell after spell at her. She swallowed and shifted on the couch, leaning forward slightly to get Bellatrix's attention.

"Bellatrix… How are you?" She spoke softly, her tone worried despite herself. She knew Bellatrix didn't do well with addressing her own feelings, let alone discussing it with someone else, each session had proved that. So she tried to keep her voice level and casual.

"Me?" The dark witch in question glanced up in surprise. She tilted her head at the brunette, before sucking air through her teeth and shrugging. She knew Hermione was looking for an answer that was too complicated to discuss. One she wasn't ready for. "I'm fine, I told you I'd heal, didn't I?" She smirked, her gaze mildly guarded as she flexed her hands.

"No I know, but…" Hermione trailed off momentarily, her gaze searching Bellatrix's. She inhaled slowly and reached out, placing her hand on her knee, feeling Bellatrix's body tense under her touch. "But how are you really?" She murmured, her gaze soft and caring.

This was a rare occurrence. Hermione rarely initiated touch, even when their dynamic was at its strongest before the incident. Bellatrix couldn't stop her body reacting before she did, her muscles tensing at the gentle touch. She rubbed the back of her neck as she looked at the hand delicately placed on her knee, and then at the pretty brunette in front of her, and she knew at that moment that she couldn't lie to Hermione. No. That wasn't quite right, it's not that she couldn't lie…. She just didn't want to anymore.

"… About as good as I can be." She answered after a beat of silence. "Better with being able to look out the windows." She admitted in a voice softer than she intended as she glanced away from the captivating witch, her gaze settling on the window. And without thinking she off-handedly said, "I listened to the birds for an hour." In a quiet, appreciative voice. Something vulnerable in the former death eaters' eyes

Hermione couldn't hold back her smile, something warm and tentative blossoming in her chest at the show of vulnerability from her dark counterpart. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she gently traced her thumb over Bellatrix's knee.

"An hour?" She hummed curiously. "You must have been bored to do that for an hour." She said in a quiet teasing voice, not wanting to disturb this moment of peaceful sanctuary between them. Bellatrix huffed in amusement at her words, her gaze drifting to the fingertips lightly brushing over her knee, despite the touch being against the fabric of her trousers, she felt a warm tingle at the muggleborns touch. Despite this, she didn't push Hermione away. She simply looked back towards the window, tapping her nails against the arm of the couch.

"It was… relaxing actually. I mostly wondered about why birds actually do that, you know? Why they sing." The dark witch mulled pensively, her gaze distant as she pondered over the mundanity of such a thought.

Hermione pursed her lips at the former death eaters words, her own mind exploring the simple question as they sat in a shared silence. She couldn't help but admire Bellatrix, her mind in particular. How she could look for reasons in even the most simple acts of life.

"Did you find an answer?" She pressed gently, curious to know what answer the young Black's mind had led her to. Bellatrix turned her gaze to Hermione, black rock pools meeting warm chocolate coasts before she chuckled, a warm husky sound as she shrugged.

"I wanted to ask you."

Bellatrix's voice was softer than she had ever heard it, her gaze longing, affectionate even, as if she was fond of Hermione. As if she had missed her.

As if she really missed her.

"Oh."

Oh.