Chapter 12: The Curiosities
Hermione was out of sorts all day.
The only satisfying moment of her day was in the morning, when she came down for breakfast and realized that Bellatrix actually kept her reluctant agreement and was present for breakfast. They ate in silence, and looked out the window more than at each other. In Hermione's book that was still a progress. They did talk way past the ten minutes she requested the morning before. She had no illusions about making friends with her former torturer, but she hoped they could come to some sort of truce. The truce that would be meaningful enough to withstand the return of the dark witch's full personality.
Everything else she hoped to accomplish for the day remained barely started. It was time to reconnect with her friends and her mentors. Time to make plans for the upcoming school year, and the NEWTs. She wasn't going to allow the unexpected marriage to derail her plans and ambitions. But she started to realize some of her plans would have to be amended, some of her relationships might take longer to mend.
She just couldn't concentrate.
Ron's match was most likely coming up that evening. Her head was full of endless questions about the identity of his bride. Would she be just as controversial as Bellatrix… she honestly doubted there was any other witch like Bellatrix… but still. Would Ron accept his first option or choose to risk a second matching? Was he regretting not asking Hermione again before their opportunity ran out?
She planned to turn in and deal with the news in the morning. Ron's family might all be with him for this matching session. And even if not, her friends would most likely be too emotional to think of owling her the same night anyway. She wanted to be with them and not stuck on the bloody island!
Her brain was to hyped to rest as it turned out. Tired of staring outside her bedroom window at the darkness frequently split by lightning, Hermione got up and headed to the library.
The comfortable room was made even more cozy by the roaring fireplace, and several dim candles. Hermione noticed that even thunder was less felt there, most likely due to additional protective charms common for libraries.
She browsed her options leisurely. The selection was heavy on the entertainment, wizarding customs, and history books, and admittedly light on the applied magic texts. Even if the educational options were few, many books were very rare, some she never saw or heard of before, not at Hogwarts and not at the bookstores. Unfortunately most of the rare magical texts had the foreboding aura about them. Hermione reminded herself to have Lestrange explain how to retrieve them safely. She picked one of the neutral options, a history book.
Hermione rounded the sofa to settle close to the fireplace and barely swallowed a startled yelp.
There, on the thick rug, was Bellatrix.
The witch laid facing the fire, her head rested on a stack of decorative pillows, thick woolen blankets were pulled up to the top of her head, leaving only the very top and several escaped tresses visible.
Hermione quietly stepped back, annoyed at the presence in the space she counted her private territory, and conflicted about her next action. After a moment of consideration she shrugged and headed to the window seat, if she cannot enjoy the fire she'd enjoy the thunderstorm outside. It appeared to be one of the strongest to date.
Between the curiosity about the dark shape in front of the fire and the curiosity about the Ron's match, attempting to read proved futile. Her eyes drifted to Bellatrix. At first Hermione thought she was mistaken.
Every time thunder shook the house the huddled form winced and appeared to pull the blankets tighter around herself.
Bellatrix woke up to the empty library with a still roaring fireplace. She was relieved the mudblood kept her distance, and her silence, the night before. She was reluctant to storm to her rooms, just to avoid the girl. But she was not about to be tricked into additional conversation. Or even worse, to be interrogated about her lack of love for the thunderstorms. After it became clear that the other witch would keep her silence, Bellatrix was able to stop thinking of her presence or the raging nature, and to actually sleep.
The thunderstorm of the night before didn't let up, but at least the outside was now gray rather than pitch black.
Bellatrix headed to her rooms to freshen up before breakfast.
On her way to the sunroom, she heard the sounds of conversation, and headed to check who the girl was conversing with so early in the day.
'...this is awful, just awful, Mione! She is as tall as I and as big as I and-' wailed a teen male voice.
'as smart as him' interjected a giggling female voice.
'And probably stronger than Ron, too' added another, vaguely familiar, male voice, with no little dose of amusement.
'At least it is a she,' the mudblood said.
'Yes mate, it could have been worse,' the amused wizard agreed.
Ron?
'How, Harry, how?' bellowed the first wizard rather pitifully.
Harry? As in Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Still-Lived. Then the other was a Weasley boy?
What was so important to call this early?
Bellatrix moved closer. She could now see three heads packed so tightly in the green flames of the small fireplace they almost looked like one grotesque three-faced head.
'Could have been Goyle…' replied Potter.
'Yeah, stronger, taller and bigger… everywhere…' added the girl in the flames with a meaningful emphasis on the last word.
Ron groaned in clear distress at the image. Potter chuckled. And even the mudblood snickered faintly before catching herself and adopting a more sympathetic facial expression.
'Shut up Ginny. You all are mental!'
'Would you have preferred Flint then?…' said Potter.
'Or Malfoy?…' added Ginny.
'That's just cruel, Gin!' whined Weasley.
Bellatrix had to agree. A family could suffer just so much indignity.
'It might not be that bad… Meet her. She is our age… Not a Death Eater, I'm sure. Did her family even have Death Eaters?'
If that's what the mudblood found the basic not-bad qualities, then the girl's luck must be really rotten. Though Bellatrix was leaning towards a setup rather than luck theory for their strange match.
'We are going to check on her and her family's involvement after we get to the offices.'
'Oh but those are not the reasons why Ron is objecting, is it, big brother?' Ginny was Ginny Weasley then.
Bellatrix could now picture the witch behind the voice. Molly's brat she almost got killed over. At least the girl had one redeeming quality… a penchant for tormenting the Weasley boy.
'It is not?'
'Mione, I cannot fear my own wife!' The wizard whined. 'What type of marriage would that be?!'
'Oh'
Oh, indeed.
Bellatrix's curiosity spiked.
The younger witch was fairy composed but Bellatrix thrived on intimidation, and at present she had nothing much to occupy herself but observe. She knew the mudblood was fearful of her. It was obvious in her practically Slytherin-like careful expressions when they spoke, in her unconscious brushes over whichever pocket or sleeve held her wand at the moment, in her chair placement at breakfast, close but never close enough to be grabbed.
'Idiot, Mione is the last person you should be complaining to about that!'
The three-faced head split into its individual parts for a moment with some grunts and yelps sounding out the fireplace, before they settled again into a little less tight formation.
'Ow! That hurt, Gunny!'
'It's alright, Gin. I'm-' the mudblood started softly.
Bellatrix must have moved too close to hear the witch's response, because the eyes of at least two green faces centered on her.
'Mione, there is someone-' a head with glasses started slowly.
The girl's head was not so subtle.
'Oh hello, Madame Lestrange! Or is it Granger now?'
As Bellatrix opened her mouth to give something appropriately biting in response, the wide brown eyes met hers, the mudblood waved her wand and the door slammed in Bellatrix's face.
Rude!
She heard a muffled Bloody hell! through the closed door before a hum from the active Muffliato prevented any other sound from escaping the room.
The girl didn't appear for breakfast until much later, and Bellatrix sauntered out the room right after the younger witch showed up.
Hours later, Bellatrix sat at the desk in her rooms drinking wine, doodling shapes and runes and burning them off the parchment with whispered Incendio .
Her thoughts kept going back to what the Weasley boy said. She wondered about what the mudblood's response would have been.
Hers and Rodolphos' union was a joining of two predators. He bit more than he could chew when he arranged for their marriage. A middle son, he thought his clever plan would get him Black's fortune and bloodline, instead he got Black's ruthlessness and disdain. His clever plan cost her a great deal, and she never let him forget that. Theirs was obviously not a true marriage, she understood that much.
If she thought of her parents, which she tried not to… or of Narcissa and her weakling of a husband, a much safer topic… Fear and intimidation didn't exist in those unions.
She sipped her wine.
Not that the mudblood would want an actual union…
She ran her hands through her unruly hair. Not like she would want an actual union either!
The girl's motives for the arrangement escaped her. That must be the reason for her curiosity. No matter how she thought of it, the girl was losing more than she was gaining, no matter how brief their association was going to be. Personally, socially, professionally… Revenge was the only motive that could have made sense with so many downsides… Yet, the mudblood wasn't even trying to torture her… if Bellatrix wasn't counting the girl's mere presence as a torture…
End of Chapter 12
