Chapter 41: Witch Weekly Effect


Hermione woke up early, washed up and half-dressed in her school clothing. Then she realized that the day was Saturday and not Monday. There were two more nights to go before returning to Hogwarts.

Wide awake and with nothing pressing on her early morning agenda, Hermione fetched breakfast snacks and settled at the desk in her room to ponder the letters from her family.

Hermione picked the Muggle mail up from her London PO Box weekly. Usually, there was just one personal letter, from her parents. This week though there were three personal items: a letter from her parents, a wedding invitation from her second cousin, and a family reunion invitation from her Granger grandparents.

Hermione was the only child, as were her parents. However, all of her grandparents had siblings. On both sides of the family Hermione had a second cousin or two she used to be close with, before Hogwarts. With Hogwarts letter, came limitations on her free time and demands for secrecy regarding very many things in her life. Eventually, most of her connections reduced to holiday greetings and updates from her parents.

Hermione was excited about the wedding and the reunion invites, until she realized that the two along with her parents' letter had one big thing in common -Australia. Hermione was expected to come to Australia for the holiday season. She was expected to be away from Britain for ten days, less than a month from her marriage interview; not that her family knew anything about her marriage, or the required interview.

Ironically, it was sort of Hermione's doing. Her parents' families were quite happy to explore no farther than a two hour flight distance from London for generations. Then Hermione's parents decided to explore Australia. And all of a sudden, one of Hermione cousins had discovered better job opportunities down-under, another cousin had chosen it for his destination wedding, and her Granger grandparents were organizing the family get together all the way over there too.

As her parents put it, the family was looking forward to seeing the grown up Hermione and meeting that special someone Hermione was spending so much time with since the summer.

Even if it was an option, it was not an option.

Hermione was still staring down all three correspondences when the familiar tap on the window alerted her to a waiting owl.

Mom has already sent a stern letter to the Witch Weekly editorial team.
Those butt heads!

Ginny's note accompanied a copy of WITCH WEEKLY: The Celebration of Marriage Edition.

Smiling and hugging Ron and Millicent beamed from the cover. Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. She wanted to blame the Slytherin but knew better. It was Ron's love for attention, and Ron's part in the war, not Millicent's character or deeds, that landed the couple on that cover.

The reason for Ginny's note became obvious soon after.

The Bachelorette of the Year (pg 12) was one of the advertised topics on the cover. Hermione's name with a thick strike through was next to it; and Susan Bones name was in bold, fading in and out over Hermione's name.

Hermione suddenly understood and appreciated Bellatrix's urge to burn stuff.


When Hermione came down to the library several hours later, Bellatrix was perusing her own copy of WITCH WEEKLY, looking far too amused for Hermione's liking.

'Where?!..'

Dark head nodded to the discarded letter.

The letter from the magazine editorial team was addressed to Hermione. It invited her to headline the next month's opening issue of the magazine and provide her own take on any controversy in the current issue, share her personal view of the Marriage Law, and give readers an update on her problematic marriage.

The letter went the way the Ginny's copy of the magazine went.

Bellatrix peeked over the magazine pages, glanced at the note's ashes in amusement, and disappeared back behind the open pages.

Hermione settled into her usual spot in the library to work on her school assignments.


'..the heartbroken wizard joined the scores of wizards and witches in the Ministry organized Matching process.' Bellatrix's unexpectedly high pitched voice broke the silence of the library.

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to ignore the peeking over the magazine dark orbs...

Silence fell again. After several moments of silence, Hermione put the quill back to the parchment.

'Work'd' out gr't. Millie's ah'm'zin,' sounded in an odd, slightly drunk or slightly stunned, drawl from behind the open pages.

The last remaining thoughts of the unique applications of common magical plants of Britain flew from Hermione's mind.

'Ron makes me happy,' Bellatrix's voice reached a never heard by Hermione high note and took on a breathy quality. And Hermione bit her lip harder. She didn't need to check to know Bellatrix was looking for a reaction.

After several beats the witch spoke in a normal voice.

'You rejected him?'

'We took turns,' snapped Hermione. 'Why? Thought he didn't want me because he is a pureblood?.. Ron isn't like that! His family isn't either. Thought you knew.'

Bellatrix hummed dismissively.

'Weasleys may be blood traitors but they are traditional. And you are…' Bellatrix twirled the lock of her hair around her finger absentmindedly 'not…'

'Oh please! That's complete rubbish! ' but Hermione's homework suddenly became less interesting.

'Are you saying you are a traditional witch?' Dark eyes opened wide in fake interest.

Hermione reached for her discarded parchment.

'I have homework'

'Housework you mean'

Hermione glared at the dark witch and focused pointedly on her barely started essay. Bellatrix was clearly in a rare mood when she desired to start an argument, and Hermione had enough of excitement for one weekend.

'You almost made it to the Bachelorette of the Year, did you know? If only you disposed of me when you had a chance,' singsonged from behind the open magazine.

Silence.

'Interesting…not all the Bones's were disposed of…'

Silence.

'Contemporary of the Golden Girl, Miss Susan Bones rose on the wave of Miss Granger's downfall.'

Silence.

'The last member of the once large influential family'

At that point Bellatrix let out a contemptuous hum, but continued reading right after.

'Miss Bones is Hogwarts' Head Girl and Apprentice to the Headmistress. Miss Bones retains the high morals her family was known for…which is... ah.. she rejected her Death Eater match...'

Bellatrix stared thoughtfully at the burning fireplace. Hermione summoned the Weekend edition of the Prophet from the floor near Bellatrix. She wasn't making much progress on the essay anyways.

'That means execution, isn't it?'

Hermione nodded.

Marriage Law was put in place three months ago said the Prophet. The weekend edition was full of the Marriage Law accolades. It also explained the Witch Weekly theme.

'Miss Bones dreams of a large family and of joining the Ministry to continue her family's tradition of service. Look at that, pet, another traditional witch.'

'Bellatrix!'

The witch cackled.

Hermione leafed through the paper.

'What goes on behind the walls of Black Manor… not much I hope... Are there children in the couple's future?.. seriously that's your concern...' Bellatrix must have reached the couple's section, and at this point was not only readying but adding her comments right along it. ' Is Voldemort's most faithful still alive? why thanks she's so touched by your concern... Is the Golden Girl safe in her marriage?.. well pet, are you.. Will we ever know the truth?.. hmm- '

'Bellatrix! It's all a joke to you, is it?! Let me read you something'


Bellatrix sat back and gestured for the girl to go on. She was discontent with how the last two days went; and didn't know how to fix it. She couldn't make the girl forget how weak and helpless and pathetic she was, not without a wand. There were still two more days of interactions to go before she could be alone and vent without fear of interruption or judgement.

Narcissa's insistence the girl spend time with them as a family was as much her sister's misguided meddling to improve Bellatrix relationship, as it was her payback for not being informed about Andromeda's visit. As far as Bellatrix was concerned it only made things worse.

'..Mr Marcus Flint (24, PB) was arrested on charges of assault on his wife. Mrs. Parvati Flint nee Patel (18, PB) taken to St Mungo's in serious condition.'

'This is my classmate. And do you know what will likely happen?! Do you?!'

Hermione leveled the angry watery gaze at Bellatrix.

'Cute, how you lecture me about Wizarding customs, pet.'

Before Hermione had a chance to find a sufficiently stinging retort, her eyes fell on another announcement and she paled.

'..Finn Owler-Avery (28, HB) was arrested on suspicion of torture of his wife.
..Mrs. Owler-Avery nee Baker (30, MB) remains in St Mungo's in critical condition.'

Hermione didn't read the second crime announcement out loud. She wasn't certain she wanted too. It described her personal nagging concern.

The witches were interrupted by a bright flash of light between them. It barked and took the shape of a small dog.

'Ron?'

Something changed about the wards. Before, when Hermione with unconscious Bellatrix just moved in, and her friends frantically looked for any and all options to contact her, nothing but the owl mail and the floo calls passed through .

After another excited bark the magical guardian spoke in Ron's voice.

'Oi, Hermione, you've seen the Prophet, yeah? Meet us at St. Mungo's for visiting hours?'


St. Mungo's reception didn't look much different from when Hermione was there for her Intent signing. It was loud, crowded, and had press teams milling around. Only this time the crowd likely consisted of real patients and families, and the press hopefully wasn't there because of Hermione.

Harry, Ron, and a bunch of people from their year sat at the official waiting area on the 5th floor. Everyone was tense. It felt like the Prophet didn't give the full picture. No Slytherin spouses were present.

Ron and Harry waited for Hermione to visit Parvati together. Padma was in the room with her sister, as were several older female relatives, when the Trio came in. The visit turned out to be quick and awkward. She couldn't shake the feeling that people were puzzled by her continuous well-being and judged her for it. It sounded mental. Though she was sure her impression was accurate.

The three friends decided to leave right after, and catch up away from wizarding eyes and ears.


The Golden Trio stared blankly at their sweating mugs of beer. The last time the three were hanging out alone together was at a bar in Diagon Alley right after Hermione's return from Australia.

This time, they chose a Muggle bar, and were sharing Muggle beers. After the hospital neither felt like going home and neither felt like dealing with the attention they inevitably attracted in the Wizarding public spaces.

The Prophet indeed omitted a number of details partially due to families' requests for privacy, partially due to the Ministry pressure.

The boys caught Hermione up on the finer details they'd heard.

Parvati was pregnant and lost her baby. She was expected to physically recover in a day or two, and she was returning right back to the townhouse she shared with Marcus Flint. Flint was already let go with an apology. The couple claimed the situation was an accident and misunderstanding, according to Ron's friend in DMLE investigations unit. It would have been more believable if Parvati didn't have a deer in the headlights look permanently frozen on her face, and if Parvati and Marcus weren't bound by the old-fashioned marital rites.

'Why tie yourself with those?!' Hermione hissed in astonishment. The Intent contract didn't require such thing.

'Tea leaves told her so. They told her he was her meant to be and all that bollocks.'

'You are not serious?!'

Ron's look told her that apparently he was.

'Seamus proposed, you know, but she didn't like him like that.'

Ron looked at Hermione meaningfully.

'Oh shut up Ronald! Are you regretting how things turned out? Because Witch Weekly tells a different story.'

Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned a No, but... behind them.

'Well, I don't either, ' that was a bit of a stretch and the looks on her friends faces told her they thought as much. 'I don't regret keeping our friendship out of Ministry clutches, alright? Seven years is a long time to jump through their hoops.'

The friends fell silent once more.

Hermione thoughts went to Mrs. Owler. At Hermione's insistence the trio stopped on the fourth floor, the permanent magical damage floor, to visit her. She looked very small and sickly and alone in the hospital bed; grayish pale, with thick pressure bandages on her limbs and torso, and with the faint tremors running through her frame despite those bandages.

'We are helping on the Owler case,' Harry shared as if reading Hermione's mind, 'Robards thinks the guy might be telling the truth. Owler has no history with Dark Arts. The healers say someone well-versed in Crucio had a go at her.'

'Someone like your wife'

'Ronald!'

'I'm not saying it was her'

'It would be a little hard since she is confined to the island'

'Perhaps she can share which of her friends are as well versed at it as she is...'

'Harry I'm not about to interrogate her, and she won't volunteer a thing anyway.'

Harry's face set into contrary mask, most often used in Potions classes.

'But you have, and she has!'

Clearly anonymous was not all that anonymous.

'Neville's mom is doing better, you know.' Harry added. Hermione didn't know. 'They've adjusted her treatment. Too much time passed to hope for recovery, but healers think she'd be able now to regain some independence with time.'

'Bellatrix Lestrange is in no way helpful, Harry. We were arguing. She wanted to, I don't know, horrify me or something. And I was. You are welcome to try and arrange a meeting through their lawyer. Don't ask me to play a DMLE agent in the only home I have right now. '

'You sound like you want her to like you.' Ron muttered under his breath.

'I sound, Ronald, like I don't want one day to end up in Mrs. Owler's place.' Hermione hissed back.

And so the three fell back into silence, only occasionally hissing or barking at any unfortunate Muggle brave enough to hit on any one of the gloomy trio.

'Hey Hermione, you want to stay at Grimmauld tonight?'


When at 9:07 pm Hermione stepped into the Master suite of Grotto House, Bellatrix was already there. The witch lounged on the couch in the sitting room of the suite almost blending into the darkness. The barely simmering fireplace and the tiny spheres of energy bouncing off her fingers served as the only sources of light in the dim room.

'You are here.'

'You are late.'

Hermione sat heavily on the opposite side of the couch, and pushed a shopping bag in her arms towards the dark witch.

'Picked up yesterday in London but in all the commotion… forgot where I put it.' Hermione shrugged. 'Mostly black, as requested. Uhm It's ok if you are not in the mood.'

The hand with magical spheres clenched closed effectively cutting half the light in the already dim room.

'Fines, temporary bindings on interactions or magic, dispensation to divorce.' She said flatly. 'Only there is no divorce under Marriage Law, spawn. Not until all the conditions are met. Nothing would happen to the offenders.'

The dark witch made no move to rise or to pick up the shopping bag.

'I am sorry I snapped at you. You are hardly the proponent of the Law… or of horrid spousal behavior... You've been pretty decent all things considered... If anything it is I who-'

Bellatrix huffed irritably, and waved a hand dismissively.

'Yes yes I'm a model spouse.'

Hermione blinked at the witch thoughtfully.

'You sort of are.'

Bellatrix frowned as her hand went to fidget with her left forearm.

'Miss Granger, if you are not in the mood, you could just say so, no need for name-calling.'

The witch picked the bag and left for the bedroom.


Bellatrix had every intention to leave the moment the younger witch showed up. To make a point. Then she changed her mind. Something was off about the girl. If she wanted to know what was going on, staying was the right choice.

So she changed into the Muggle night cloths and allowed the girl to hold her. And she grinned triumphantly when she felt the girl take a breath to speak.

So predictable.

'Are you going to torture me?'

What?

'No.'

'Because I'm useful to you...' The girl stated flatly into her hair, and hiccupped, 'while I'm useful...' The girl gave out a snort of laughter which sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Bellatrix froze. She should have left when she had the chance. She forced herself not to think about possible tears, or worse, spit or snot, being deposited into her hair as the sounds implied. Lest she did hex the girl very painfully.

Bellatrix didn't have time to contemplate her situation for too long when it changed. The girl's arm slid from its respectable position on Bellatrix's shoulder over the arm to settle over Bellatrix's chest and hug her impossibly tight.

This had to be a payback for messing with the girl the other morning...

It had to be.

'Because we are married, stupid girl. You always protect what's yours.'

'I'm not a thing, though'

The girls whisper lacked the usual conviction.

'And, you killed Rodolphus, your husband.'

That was true. The mudblood wouldn't understand. Rodolphus made it clear she wasn't safe with him. So, she was never under obligation to her husband's safety either. And his death was an accident. Pleasing, even if accidental.

The girl kept whispering into Bellatrix's hair without waiting or wishing for any explanations.

'I still don't understand why I lived... how my mind survived… do you know?.. I don't think you do... You hated me so…'

Bellatrix sighed and gave a squeeze to the hand under hers. The girl suffered through her pathetic ramblings the other night. It was only decent to do the same.

The girl was wrong. Bellatrix knew exactly why and how.

..The filthy creature was lying to her face. Bellatrix crucio'ed her and the girl screamed.

And Bellatrix's mind stopped being a solitary space.

'Bella, please, please stop! I beg you!'

'Cissa, get OUT of my head!'

Bellatrix was so startled by Narcissa's interference her next Crucio lacked half its usual intensity.

'You are scaring me! The girl knows nothing!'

'Get OUT, Cissy! She lies! She lies, Cissa! The filth will pay! With her mind if needed!'

It was exhausting to keep up with the several conversations at once. Particularly when no one cooperated. Narcissa was still in her head. The Mudblood was still lying. And both male Malfoy's looked more like a liability-in-the-making than the competent servants of her Lord.

'Not again! Bella don't! Don't do that. Oh Salazar, not again! You are the strongest of us. Don't you feel it. Please. Please, focus. You cannot be that gone, that mad!'

But Bellatrix didn't feel it. In fact, aside from her own fear of losing her Lord's item and the burning hatred towards the girl in connection with it, she couldn't tell one emotion and feeling from another. She couldn't sense the difference between a truth and a lie in the girl's sentiment. She couldn't even tell the difference in her own sister's words.

'I am not MAD!'

She cast another Crucio over the still convulsing Mudblood to spite Narcissa.

'Then listen to her bloody thoughts! She is lying about something but not the vault! Not your vault! Bella, I beg you- '

Bellatrix's mind swarmed with questions. Did Narcissa sense her indecision? Could her sister tell? Could she hear Bellatrix's innermost thoughts? Bellatrix knew of Narcissa's disappearing commitment to their cause. Was she telling the truth about the girl or just using Bellatrix's confusion? The matter was too serious to indulge her sister's sensitivities.

Magical torture was getting her nowhere, but Bellatrix wasn't above using cruder methods.

'She's filth, Cissy!'

'No, please please don't do- You can't kill her, she is a child! Bella, I will never speak to you if you do! I swear on our blood! If you do that in my bloody house on my Salazar be damned floors! NEVER!'

'GET OUT OF MY HEAD, CISSY! You don't understand!'

'She knows nothing about the vault, Bella! You know that! You can tell, can't you? Oh Salazar…'

Bellatrix really couldn't tell, but she was inclined to trust Narcissa's read of the girl.

'That doesn't matter anymore. Don't look, Cissy! You won't enjoy it! But I will!'

The knife cut into the girl's arm, and the girl screamed...

And enjoy it she did.

Nevertheless, Bellatrix meant what she said to the girl. Not once after Narcissa explained her situation she truly contemplated harming the girl. Not unless the girl proved to be an active threat. And the stubborn mu- witch kept proving to be the opposite time and again. The days of her torturing Muggles and mudbloods, particularly this one, were in her past. It was fun but not fun enough to risk a new dungeon stay. Not without a cause, not when her Lord was irrecoverably dead, and not when there was actual possibility of freedom.

Bellatrix laid for a time thinking of nothing.

The girl's breathing evened at some point, and the arms around her loosened soon after too. It was a long time since anyone wished to, and was trusted enough to be allowed so close to her. Except for Narcissa's attempts, right after Bellatrix return from Azkaban, no one got this close. Narcissa's touch felt scorching hot on her emaciated body, and for her warmth-deprived mind. Narcissa learnt quickly to keep physical interactions light and brief.

Bellatrix slid carefully out of the girls arms. She rested against the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Her chin rested on the pulled up knees. Her arms wrapped around crossed ankles. The ever lit candle cast everything in deep shadows and barely there lights. Bellatrix looked at the silluette of the slumbering girl.

A blink, and the imaginary likeness of her was back in the girls arms. It looked disturbingly normal, and safe, and nice.

Another blink, and the silly image was gone.

Another blink, and her likeness was back. The imaginary girl split out from the actual girl, and was pressing an imaginary pillow over the imaginary Bellatrix's face. Bellatrix held her own breath, and first felt the urge to pull in the air, then the burn in the chest, then the pounding in the ears. She kept the scene in front of her mind's eye for as long as her lungs allowed before breathing and blinking it away.

Another blink, and the scene reset, only now imaginary girl was pressing a wand to imaginary Bellatrix's back, and Bellatrix likeness writhed in distress. Bellatrix shuddered as the echoes of old hurts rolled through her body. She kept that scene in front of her mind's eye for sometime before blinking it away as well.

She hated pain, but turn about was a fair play. She wondered if the last scene would actually happen one day.

Another reluctant blink, and her likeness was back in the girls arms, only, the girl's hand was running through her hair this time. She blinked again. And there was a knife and the blood-

Bellatrix slid off the bed and stormed out into the sitting room.

'Stop just stop! She is not like that. She isn't. She wouldn't.'

The dark witch hissed and paced.

'But she is! She did! She did!'

Is Voldemort's most faithful still alive. Would anyone ever bother with the truth if she wasn't... Anyone but Narcissa?..

'No! No. She was sorry. I remember she was sorry. I heard. It wasn't an echo. I heard!'

Bellatrix pulled at her hair as she paced.

'She isn't like that. She did only the one thing. And she was sorry. She is kind.'

A firm mutter.

'She is not a threat'


Next morning Hermione woke up to the dark eyes peering at her from the pile of pillows and blankets. There was a clear separation of the areas of influence established, she noted with amusement. She was on her usual side, the closest to the ensuite side, on top of exactly one pillow, under a makeshift blanket, a bed quilt folded over her from the other side of the bed, while part of it was still trapped under her.

In contrast, Bellatrix's sleeping throne had several blankets, several pillows, and was situated in the geographical middle of the bed. It was a good thing the bed was huge.

Hermione slowly remembered the night before. She was sure her face was burning. First she cried on the witch, then she fell asleep on her. And the mercurial witch not only stayed put, but made sure she was warm too. She was pleasantly surprised, a bit scared, and a lot mortified.

She wished she could run away without humiliating herself even further, and possibly angering Bellatrix even more.

'Well, now we've officially slept together, whatever'd people say!'

Black eyes blinked. And blinked again.

Then the eyes disappeared, and the pile of blankets shook and cackled or possibly hiccupped.

Moments later Bellatrix head emerged and frowned at the younger witch. Hermione gulped. She clearly wasn't thinking loosing her composure like that last night. She forced calm for what was surely going to be an awkward conversation.

'Miss Granger, you do realize there are expectations with this milestone, don't you?'

'Oh no' Hermione hated always playing catch up with Bellatrix expectations. She hoped it wasn't another jewelry. 'Like what?'

Slender finger tapped, and the brows knitted, and Hermione wondered just how big of a deal it could possibly be.

And then Bellatrix let out a peal of laughter.

'Breakfast! You know what I like.'

The cackle was more evil than mirthful this time.

That wasn't too bad...

'Wait! You woke up first!'

'That is not an excuse.'

Bellatrix smirked, as she sat up and pulled her blankets about herself.

Hermione realized two things.

One, she already had similar conversation with the witch before.

And two, Hermione looked over her shoulder one more time on her way to the kitchens, Bellatrix changed into a non-Muggle-made sleepwear overnight. Predictable if she thought about it. However, the non-transparent, flowy thing with fairly modest cleavage, due to the shimmering material or some charms on it, emphasized the witch's figure very enticingly.

'You are unbelievable, Lestrange!' She stated with a much different inflection than on the other occasion. 'I'll be back with breakfast.'

She heard the cackle all the way to the outer doors of the Master suite.


End of Chapter 41