Chapter 13: The New Ballroom
The doors to the large ballroom rattled once, and at the next attempt opened. It looked like the ancient magic was still undecided on who was the 'Lord' of the House, as neither Hermione nor Bellatrix were allowed privacy over the other.
Just the other day Hermione was admitted into the locked potions lab, where Bellatrix was brewing something. Layers upon layers of old and fresh brown, green and orange goo covered the witch and the room. Even the ceiling didn't escape.
Only the timely placed shield protected Hermione from the exploding fruit of Bellatrix's potion mastery. The witch refused to name the potion she was making, but clearly, the likelihood of her creating anything troublesome… or anything at all… without a wand was low.
So, Hermione left with a frustrated try not to blow up the house .
Somehow she didn't realize that the easy room access would go both ways, she wouldn't have bothered with spending time and effort on the wards if she knew.
Bellatrix stopped just inside the room taking in the space.
Hermione felt for her wand and let out a sigh of relief that she had a presence of mind to grab it at the first rattle of the door handle.
'Reminds me of my trial.' She slowly walked further into the room, studying the floating portraits with parchments attached to them, and the sitting on the floor younger witch surrounded by parchments, quills, and stacks of old newspapers. 'Are you selecting your next spouse, pet?'
'Should I?'
Bellatrix just hummed noncommittally in response, her attention clearly elsewhere.
She walked along the semi-circle of portraits, humming softly under her breath when she recognized a face or a name.
Hermione sighed and glared at the witch's back.
There were exactly two weeks left to consummate the damned marriage or deal with the consequences. And so far Bellatrix was not as assertive as Hermione first dreaded and now hoped she would be. She planned to bring the topic up with the witch. Of course every time she had Bellatrix in front of her, all the carefully prepared words about that deserted her.
Harry's birthday was coming up, and it was becoming more and more likely that she would be stuck on the island. She couldn't help but sulk.
The older witch appeared content to just exist, and actually delighted in avoiding Hermione… except, apparently, for right now.
'Want to share why you turned my ballroom into the Wizengamot chamber?'
'Our ballroom,' Hermione muttered moodily.
Black eyes landed on her at the words, but Bellatrix didn't dispute the statement, and after a long look simply went back to her inspection.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the black-clad witch. For the first time the simple baggy black robes were replaced with a slightly less baggy dress robes, the house shoes were replaced with the low heel leather boots, and the witch also now spotted several rings and a necklace. The change had to be due to her sister's visit.
Malfoy matriarch owled ahead of time, informing her that she would be visiting Bellatrix for lunch, and providing her with the schedule of the next visits. Narcissa planned to stick to her initial words of two visits per week. She also seemed to be optimistic enough to expect to have the visits with her sister stretch at least three months into the future.
Hermione expected the Black sisters to once again spend the whole day locked in some room.
Clearly, she was wrong.
Bellatrix completed her tour along the floating portraits and stopped about 10 feet away in front of Hermione, head slightly cocked and seemingly waiting for a response.
Ah, the ballroom.
'I intend to make sure each one of these senile cave toads cannot ruin lives of everyday witches and wizards. The Prophet today! They expect couples to spend four days a month in 'close contact to facilitate marriage harmony'!'
'A definite hardship.'
'A definite privacy invasion! Soon they'll start creating sex schedules!'
Bellatrix looked at her strangely. The corner of the thin lips twitched. She took a breath to talk, then changed her mind and stayed silent.
'What?'
Another long unreadable look. Another twitch at the corner of the thin lips.
'Doesn't close contact mean sex?'
WHAT!
'It does?!'
The witch just looked flatly at her.
'It does?!'
'How would I know? I didn't read the article.'
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix, the witch acted as if the situation didn't apply to her at all! This seemed like a good opening for the talk . She pulled her little prepared speeches to the front of her mind. Steeled her Gryffindor's backbone-
'All 69?'
Huh?
'Your hit list. All 69 of them?' Bellatrix elaborated on Hermione's confused look.
Oh… perhaps this was not the best time for the talk. Her nerve took vacation. Again!
'70'
'There are only-' dark eyes fell on one of the portraits. 'The Minister? Who is a better fit for the job then?'
'I- I would do a better job.' Someday… In 15 or 20 years… That what she planned, and hoped, and prepared for with her exceptional records in OWLs and her decision to take NEWTs and officially graduate, and her efforts to be considered for just the right type of Apprenticeship and job. She wanted the position from the moment she learnt of it. She was sure she would do well in the role.
Kingsley was a great auror and strategist, but it seemed he just didn't care about the blatant rights violations that continued to come out from under the Wizengamot's collective quill.
Something flitted through the dark eyes, and then the dark witch laughed. Shrilly. Mockingly. Hermione felt her mind going back to the floor of the Malfoy Manor and fought to stay in the present. Similar episodes happened frequently before Australia, but she was doing so much better since then. For a long moment she felt as if she was existing in the two places at the same time. She didn't even realize she pulled her wand out until the room around her turned silent and stayed silent for a solid minute.
Brown eyes refocused on the perfectly still witch.
'Back with the living?' Bellatrix didn't appear bothered by the wand, but waited to move until after Hermione's gaze was once again alert and aware.
Hermione gave another look at the once again expressionless witch and lowered the wand but didn't put it away. It seemed Lestrange's traits were coming back one disturbing quirk at a time.
'You see, mu- ah.. Mugglespawn, whoever arranged this' skinny hand waved between the two of them, 'arranged more than a marriage. No one sane will elect you to the Wizengamot, or give you a Ministry job, and definitely not pick you for a Minister. Not with me as your wife.'
She glared at Bellatrix. Bellatrix stared impassively back.
'Fine, then Harry!'
She didn't want Harry to take the position she dreamed about but Bellatrix didn't need to know that. She might not even go through with attempting to unseat the 69 members of Wizengamot, but Bellatrix didn't need to know that either.
'Of course... the Holy Potter.'
Bellatrix moved closer to the windows.
'You know... I could kill them all. Have the Wizangamot start fresh. I will need a wand though.'
Hermione's grip on the wand strengthened.
Kill?!
'No!' How did they go from talking about government jobs to killing?!.. 'You are not killing anyone!'
'Oh no?'
'No! I wish they would lose their seats. Want to humiliate them! Not to kill them!'
Most of all, she wished they would start doing their jobs instead of hiding behind cheap diversions.
The Reconstruction Act and Restitution Act stalled now for more than two months. Aurors arrested the vaults and properties of the rich Death Eaters promptly in May. By early June a handful of legal challenges that arose from those arrests were resolved. The Reconstruction and Restitution Fund had been just sitting there untouched since then. Half the Diagon Alley shops were still boarded or in ruins. Hogwarts was being restored by and on the donations from the volunteers, parents and students. The orphans of war from the winning side were supported largely by relatives or volunteers. The orphans from the losing side seemed to have no support system at all. St. Mungo's…
Hermione ran both hands through her hair warding off the impending mind spin. She had fumed about many the Wizengamot shortcomings just that morning.
Hermione thought it was a flicker of relief she glimpsed on the impassive face, but she could not be sure, and knowing the witch, it most likely was regret.
'All of this because of that law? Or is it because your blood-traitor boyfriend signed up to someone else?'
Bellatrix had an interesting prioritization of the articles she read and didn't read.
'Ron has nothing to do with it!'
Bellatrix just hummed, and went back to studying the portraits.
Hermione was almost successful in ignoring the witch enough to concentrate on the old newspaper she was skimming through, until a pair of black boots in her line of sight startled her once again.
'And who is the first on your don't-hit hit list?'
'Applefield. I'm going to go alphabetically.'
'Like the couple announcements?'
'Like the couple announcements.'
The witch hummed again and moved away.
Hermione watched warily as Bellatrix summoned an elf, requested drink and food, took a moment to decide on a window seat, and then settled there with a glass of wine and a large bowl of grapes.
The witch didn't do anything untoward, if Hermione ignored the grapes, because once in a while a grape would sail to smack the Minister's portrait.
The witch got bored with Hermione's silent scribbling and reading soon enough. Or she simply ran out of the grapes…
'How many in the Wizengamot opposed the law?'
'Two.'
'Of 69. Are there many wizards and witches protesting the law?'
'Surprisingly, no.'
'Surprisingly for you. Of course you know better than the Wizarding Government and Wizarding society, what is right for them. After what… 6 or 7 years in the Wizarding world.'
'What are you saying, Bellatrix? Should I conform like everybody else? Not interfere when real wizards and witches talk?'
'Not at all. Let me know when you get to… hm… Cs for a start. I could help you out.'
'But you just- Why?'
'Why not. Mayhem is chaos and chaos is fun.'
Once again flat words sounded like a singsong in her mind.
'Who are they? The Death Eaters? Sympathizers? Bellatrix, why don't you tell me right now?'
'Impatient spawn, I haven't decided what I want in return.'
With that the witch sauntered out.
Hermione had an annoying suspicion that Bellatrix felt much better about their chat than Hermione herself did. Hermione spotted one of the thrown grapes nearby, and flicked it at the closed door.
Two days later early in the morning an elf popped into Hermione's bedroom carrying a silver platter with a thick scroll and a small note next to it. She read the note first.
A Wedding Gift for a Muggle's Witch
Puffing an exasperated breath at the new nickname, she unrolled the top of the scroll. The first line said simply Applefields.
The neat tiny script with long loops and tall stems filled eight feet of parchment.
Hermione didn't understand the witch. It was obvious Bellatrix was skeptical about her plans, and dismissive of the law. She clearly resented the law's outcome - Hermione, her own spouse. And yet, here was the testament that for some reason the witch took her somewhat seriously, gifted her what Hermione found valuable. It was not a simple gift either. The parchment must have taken her hours to put together.
The months of immobility had their impact.
Hermione didn't make the connection right away, but when she did, she saw the proof in every move.
The witch walked much slower, wore low heeled shoes and boots, and avoided anything requiring fine motor skills. Her breakfast included only items requiring no utensils, and her clothing had no delicate ties or small buttons. She would fidget with anything and everything, as if trying to remind her body how it was supposed to move and feel under the given circumstance.
Unless that was some sort of a mind game… It was obvious the witch was recovering and getting restless.
Hermione worried her lip in thought. Should she find a gift for Bellatrix as well? Did she expect a gift? Should she gift her something even if it was not expected? And if so, what could she give the devious witch. The witch whose interests lay in dark arts and torture. She certainly didn't want to give her anything to inspire those ideas.
End of Chapter 13