Chapter 36: The Routines
Hermione Granger's life settled into a predictable schedule of classes, activities, and personal commitments by the time her 19th birthday came about. The brightest witch of current generation was a true planner, as anyone who met her knew. Her planning didn't stop at New Year resolutions, or Birthday contemplations, or the first day of school.
She made plans, stuck to them, reviewed and revised as situation demanded. It made her feel in control and well-prepared. The shock of the summer events distracted her from her habits, but slowly and surely Hermione was returning to doing things in a way that worked best for her.
It just so happened, that it was on her birthday, on Saturday September 19th, as she woke up after a long and a bit premature celebration of her birthday the night before, that Hermione Granger decided it was time to evaluate the routines she created for her last year of school, and in her first year of marriage... No matter how bizarre and ill-timed the marriage part still felt... or perhaps especially because of how out-of-place she still felt about it.
[morning musings]
Hermione's Mondays and Tuesdays were packed with classes.
The other weekdays had only one class each, and were mainly slotted into times for homework, NEWTs studying, check-ins with professors and staff regarding restoration and restocking activities, and meetings with the Headmistress to discuss the Reconstruction strategy and goals for the weekly Ministry meetings.
While all weekdays were busy, Fridays were particularly tiring. Early on Friday mornings, Hermione walked to Hogsmeade, and aparated from there to London for the Ministry meeting. Soon, if Hogwarts' proposals to the Department of Magical Creatures gained attention, she'd have several meetings on Fridays too. After the Ministry, she returned to the castle for a class and a check-in with the Headmistress. Finally, in late afternoons, Hermione walked again back to Hogsmeade to catch up with friends for dinner and drinks.
She initially planned to spend Friday nights at the castle, but in reality it made much more sense to just aparate to the Grotto at the end of her visit with friends...
Saturdays and Sunday mornings had their own routines.
She and Bellatrix spent the time together.
Bickering… or reading... or eating.
They didn't look through the Marriage interview questions Harry and Ginny compiled. They didn't talk about news, or something neutral, or something important for both of them, as they started to during their breakfasts, before Hermione's extended stay at Grimmauld. Nowadays, it seemed they only had time for things to fight about... new things... old things... it didn't matter which.
Snooping. Bellatrix saw no problem with it, continued to do so religiously, and didn't bother to even hide it.
Population Replenishment Cooperation Form. Bellatrix was very amused by Hermione's outrage.
'...Relax, pet, it's not like they'd assign someone to you.'
'Me?! What about you? You are more age-appropriate for your chosen wizard!'
'Ah, but I can't have children, so he'd be all yours.'
' Are you serious? You are lying aren't you?!'
'Maybe… maybe not…'
Hermione came very close to hexing the dark witch then. She settled for screaming. Bellatrix just smirked... and refused to have any serious discussion about children.
Andromeda. Bellatrix most definitely didn't wish to see her sister. Hermione was sure Bellatrix was getting close to hexing her, or at least trying to hex her, with every new time Hermione brought up the middle Black sibling.
Ozon and bonfire. Every weekend the house and the island smelled of them. It was not just the smell of outdoors and not a coincidence. Bellatrix absolutely refused to even acknowledge the existence of the smells. That by itself made the situation very suspicious! This worried Hermione more than any other issue.
[afternoon bickering]
'Did you have to torture the Longbottoms?!'
Bellatrix looked up from her book.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She should not have said that! She had to stop falling into this irate person routine and blaming everything that was going sideways on Bellatrix…
Even if it was her fault!
Bellatrix very rarely started arguments, but more often than not the dark witch was absolutely the reason for them. And, the witch thoroughly enjoyed each and every one of them.
This time was no exception.
Dark head cocked to the side and the corner of her lips twitched up.
'You are several decades too late in your outrage, pet.'
Hermione glared at the essay she was working on for DADA, for the third week straight, and then glared at Bellatrix.
'There hardly exists a time limit for outrage regarding awful acts! How did you get caught anyway?'
Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, then sighed, then looked away grinning sheepishly.
'Didn't notice the aurors, until it was too late.'
'You didn't notice the aurors… You committed horrible crimes and didn't think to look out for the aurors…' The paper flew from under Hermione's quill.
'Cruciatus Curse, the Unforgivable crime… You need a paper on that?'
'Hey! Give it back!'
Naturally, Bellatrix didn't dignify her demand with acknowledgement.
'Uhm… We were otherwise occupied,' came the murmured reply to an earlier comment instead, as the witch continued looking through the essay.
'All four of you?'
'Yes yes all four of us.'
'Right next to the people you just tortured into insanity?!'
Bellatrix glanced at Hermione over the parchment quizzically.
'It wasn't planned, was it.'
Hermione blinked at the witch.
'That's disgusting.'
'Wh- Do you ever think of something other than sex? That is disgusting.' Bellatrix smirked, but clarified after a pause. 'We were dueling. Each other. All the stories about how epic the battle to apprehend us was are just tales. We were too tired to even run properly.'
'Oh.. But why?'
'Why do you write about Cruciatus in such length?'
'Because Professor Longbottom hates me. That's Neville's grandmother, Frank Longbottom's mother. Apparently, I don't appreciate the seriousness of the Unforgivables, and how strictly the practitioners should be punished.'
Hermione looked pointedly at Bellatrix. The corners of Bellatrix's lips twitched up once again.
'Rod and I had a difference of opinion on what to do with the information we thought Longbottoms had. Frank didn't reveal anything under torture. So we secured Alice. I used Legilimency on Frank on the off chance it might be effective. But so did Rod. At the same time. I looked for information. Rod looked to get to it first. In the end we ripped Frank's mind apart.'
Hermione most definitely should not have started that conversation. She thought she was going to throw up.
'Did you do the same to Neville's mum?'
'Spawn, are you going to cry?'
'Are you going to answer?'
'Didn't get a chance. Rab tried Legilimency on her, but Barty crucio'ed her almost at the same time. The eager little helper. She passed out. Rab got the brain freeze of his life. Rod found the whole thing hilarious. I was understandably…uh… unhappy. One thing led to another and well… next thing the four of us are Azkaban residents.'
'Do you regret what you've done? Even a little bit?'
'Of course I regret it! It was a rubbish waste of time!'
Hermione rubbed her face, thinking once more that she shouldn't have started this conversation!
'Look, silly muggle-spawn, I cannot fix their brains even if I wanted to. And I'm not saying that I do. I also can't make that old cow like you. I can help you with the dark arts though… defense… yes yes the defense part of it.'
The sentences sounded like a singsong, and Hermione felt sick, but still she found herself asking.
'You would help me study for NEWTs?'
'Sure. Consider it a birthday present.'
Hermione was surprised the witch knew.
'When is yours?'
'Ah, something for you to investigate. It would look really really really bad for you not to know such a basic thing.'
Did that mean that Bellatrix actually looked at her copy of interview questions?..
The witch however was back to her reading, even as Hermione's parchment slowly was floated back to her desk.
As arguments went, the Longbottoms one was fairly productive. Being tutored in DADA by Bellatrix, was not as inconspicuous as doing something with Runes or Plants and calling it intellectual connection… but it promised to be much more useful. Hermione was just glad that NEWTs were not administered by their Professors.
Bellatrix was not far from the truth when she accused Hermione of thinking only about sex. But that was absolutely Bellatrix's fault! Hermione couldn't help but think about it. That was the most stressful part of her Saturday routine. Something she felt needed change. Something she couldn't change without Bellatrix cooperation. And as was her custom, Bellatrix was not very helpful.
[evening failure]
Hermione rolled off Bellatrix and hurried into the bathroom. She couldn't understand why the sex was getting worse and not … forget better … at least why it hadn't stayed as bad as it was.
Actually, it wasn't the sex itself.
The sex at this point was very much a practiced and routine activity. It met all Bellatrix's conditions. And yet Hermione was clearly doing something wrong… Because instead of looking moderately pleased, or at least simply indifferent, every week the witch was looking more and more thunderous afterwards.
It would start and progress exactly the same.
At 9pm they would meet at the master bedroom. Bellatrix would be in one of her black dresses: long skirt, low cleavage, tight bodice resembling a corset. Hermione would be in jeans and a nicer t-shirt or shirt.
Bellatrix would head towards the bed.
Hermione would head into the bathroom.
Two minutes later, Hermione would step out of the bathroom, shirt now hanging over her loosened pants; Bellatrix would stare flatly at her from the middle of the bed. Hermione would climb on the bed and pause near the witch, and without fail the legs would part enough to allow her to settle between them. Hermione would push the hem of the dress up, and Bellatrix eyes would flick away before sliding back to once again stare at her. Hermione would say that she was about to cast the spell and pause, and Bellatrix would nod.
She would settle over Bellatrix, careful not to pin her in any way to the bed, and not touch her aside from the absolutely necessary bit.
Bellatrix's hand would sneak under Hermione's shirt and settle on her waist or lower back. And that was the only curious thing about the whole event.
Bellatrix knew the touch was unnecessary to keep the spell active. The brushing of their bodies was enough, as the consummation night confirmed. Yet Bellatrix initiated the touch every time, on her own volition. Hermione didn't question it. With all the evidence and all her conclusions that Bellatrix could barely tolerate her, Hermione chose to take this as a sign that maybe there were some other explanation for the failed lust potion, and for the dark witch's rules. Maybe it wasn't that the witch couldn't stand her mere existence.
She'd focus on the warmth of Bellatrix's hand and the sensation the toy allowed.
Bellatrix wouldn't make a sound or a move, but neither would she hide behind the closed or averted eyes. She seemed lost in her own world, but she didn't appear to be occluding. Their eyes would meet occasionally, and the black gaze would appear unreadable but present.
In two to three minutes it would be over. Hermione would roll off, and by the time she'd be off the bed, Bellatrix's dress would be pulled down, the witch would be leaning on her elbow, and silently glaring at her.
First, Hermione thought she annoyed the dark witch with talking before or after, so she left any topics that she would have brought up immediately for a non bedroom location. She only talked during sex as Bellatrix asked awhile back, and she practiced what she would say beforehand, so as not to sound too idiotic or unintentionally offensive, again.
Then she thought perhaps she was literally hurting the witch. Since Bellatrix only glared at the mention of the lubrication spell, she made sure the stick was as user friendly as it could be without being too gross. Bellatrix looked surprised for a brief moment but said nothing and didn't glare any differently afterwards.
Then she thought it was because of the little touches, technically those were unnecessary detours... It just seemed so cold, but if that annoyed the witch… So she consciously cut that out over the last two encounters.
She didn't know what else she could do differently. The witch was looking more and more unhappy… thunderous… murderous…
And of course, everything was fine .
As if Hermione's persistent concern about Bellatrix free will in the matter weren't already eating her up.
The bathroom door closed.
In 9 seconds the water would run.
And in 15 more it would stop.
And then at about 15 to 20 seconds the girl would walk out.
She would slide a cursory glance over the bed, never meeting Bellatrix's eyes, and stride out of the bedroom.
The bedroom door would most likely be left to slowly close on its own. The outer chamber door would slam loud enough to resonate inside the room.
Bellatrix frowned, glaring at the closed ensuite.
She should be happy.
The encounters were predictable, quick and not unpleasant. The girl didn't bother her with talking before or after, and pretty much did as she was asked, including the inane commentary during the encounters.
Bellatrix didn't need the chatter to stay in the present anymore. She had no returning memories after the consummation night. The chatter made the girl clearly stressed and that amused Bellatrix, and so she never told the girl to stop, and most certainly never explained why she wanted her to talk in the first place.
The girl stopped the majority of the odd little detours that made Bellatrix bite her lip in alarm and in fascination. She literally touched her only as much as was necessary. The girl would have to levitate to touch her any less.
Bellatrix knew she should be pleased with the situation.
She was not.
She felt like a whore. She saw plenty of those encounters early in her marriage, when she still found amusement in unnerving Rod. She frowned even harder, and felt her lips twitch into the beginning of a sneer. A whore, and a bad one at that. The only reason the girl was getting off was thanks to her long dead ancestor. No wonder the girl couldn't stand to be in the room with her a second longer than required.
Bellatrix refused to dwell on why that was bothering her.
She startled out of her thoughts when the bedroom door slammed closed.
They were two months and a week into their marriage.
There were still four months till the Ministry's interview.
Four months.
Seventeen weeks.
Seventeen more encounters.
Ten minutes each.
Less than three hours of her life.
This was nothing.
She would find a way to be fine with things.
There were plenty of worse things.
'Here. Pick something that won't have you looking like you are about to hex my head off afterwards!'
Bellatrix was half-asleep when the door to the Master bedroom opened and the younger witch appeared through it brandishing a book and a surprisingly bad mood, for such a late hour.
'And don't tell me you are fine! Open your fist. Open!' Both stared at the visible crescents left by the nails and the dark liquid swelling in them. 'Yes you are perfectly fine.'
Bellatrix glared at the book and then at the girl.
'What do you want me to pick?'
'Anything! Preferably something with more touching or less clothing so we at least pretend to be- uh… never mind that, I'm not holding my breath on that! Just pick something… that doesn't have you doing that!'
With a parting glare at Bellatrix, the girl headed for the doors.
'Why?'
Bellatrix thought she was quiet, but it turned out she wasn't quiet enough.
'Why what?'
So she clarified. Against her better judgement. Expecting the girl to smirk. And to take her words back. Those questions buzzed around her brain too often and for too long to keep them in.
'Why? Why does it matter? Everything is fine. It is fine. And it will continue to be fine. Why do you keep pushing? Why do you want it to be something different? Why bother? What is happening works.'
There were more why's and what's she'd not allow herself to ask. Why are you kind to me? What do you want from me? When will you take your revenge? What is it going to be? Why not just kill or torture? She still had some self-respect to sound that pathetic. She'd just wait and be surprised.
'Bellatrix, this isn't fine, it doesn't work. Just look at your hand. That's not how all-is-fine looks! It just isn't.'
The girl took a breath and hurried to continue.
'The more I talk to people at school, and at the Ministry… very few are truly bothered by the law… The bloody law is here to stay. And if Wizengamot's activities so far are any indicator, they'd continue to push for people to participate in the unions rather than simply coexist.'
This time the girl waited for Bellatrix to say anything, but there wasn't anything to say.
'We are stuck with each other. But I think we can find a way to be decent towards each other. Maybe even try to be good for each other? Neither of us should wish to disappear from the present… or feel the need to hurt themselves or the other or something.'
Bellatrix suddenly had more questions. Did the girl think Bellatrix wanted to hurt her? Bellatrix was not that mad. Did the girl want to disappear? How would that work? What would that mean for Bellatrix's house arrest? And what was that good for each other business?..
The girl sighed again, when Bellatrix remained silent.
'Just pick the bloody something you can live with, will you?'
The girl left.
Bellatrix glared at The Activity Guide with sickeningly happy looking witches on its cover.
What now?
Hermione returned to Hogwarts on Sunday with a mission. The routines she established just weren't working as she needed them. She had to set new routines.
'Headmistress, I need to talk to you. I don't think my schedule is working out. I need to spend half the week at home…'
And so Hermione began creating new plans, figuring out new routines, putting things together in a way that would fit her new reality.
End of Chapter 36