Chapter 59: The Naked Truth
A/N: Happy New Year! Hope everyone's holiday season is going great! This story has made it to my NY resolutions list for the second time now. Hopefully this year I'll be more successful and will actually see it to completion before the year end. :)
Hermione was in the Grotto library studying, and worrying.
Despite all the drama of the past weeks the time had flown by. Already, it was the middle of December.
Only one week of classes was left.
In ten days Hermione was going to be on a plane to Australia... and on the way to all the awkward, and possibly painful, conversations with her parents, and relatives.
She still hadn't decided what if anything about her current situation to reveal to her parents. She left it for the 40 hours it'd take to reach Australia, Muggle style.
More importantly, in twenty eight days, not counting the Australia trip, she and Bellatrix were going to fail Marriage Interview.
Under the truth serum.
In front of several Ministry employees.
Hermione loathed failures. Yet, realistically, there simply was no other likely outcome.
She and Bellatrix were further apart now than they had been months ago, a state both of them contributed to over the past weeks.
Hermione was out of ideas, and out of energy, to fight for truth with Bellatrix. She had years in Bellatrix's charming presence. She could get the answers out of her later.
If they could just go back to how they were...
Hermione forgave Harry for keeping secrets. Harry was someone she trusted. Someone she had history with. Someone she expected better from.
How could she then fault Bellatrix for keeping secrets of her own. Those were likely decades, if not centuries, old.
They had nothing between them but the stupid Marriage Law.
No trust.
No expectations.
If things seemed otherwise... That must have been her own wistful thinking. Her own foolishness got her expectations raised, and feelings hurt.
Naturally, Bellatrix had grievances of her own. Some of those were more obvious than the others. But none of them Bellatrix was willing to discuss in depth.
Occasionally, it did seem as though Bellatrix too was wistful for their more peaceful past.
The grandfather clock marked the full hour, startling Hermione out of her musings.
It was 10 o'clock in the evening.
On a Saturday.
Narcissa had moved back to Malfoy Manor a few days ago.
It was just Hermione and Bellatrix on the island.
Hermione once again thought back to their morning spat.
'..Bellatrix… can't we not fight?' she tried when she caught Bellatrix's dark look.
Bellatrix looked like she was about to say something.
Hermione waited.
The witch stayed silent, and staring.
So Hermione tried again.
'Aren't you tired? What happened happened. No matter what I say. No matter what you say. It happened the way it happened! Can we not try to be as before?'
Something in her little speech hit the nerve.
'It's not I who doesn't act as before!' Bellatrix spat and stormed off...
Hermione glanced uncomfortably at the clock again. If she were in the before, she would be now an hour late for their Saturdays' arrangement.
Surely, the dark witch didn't mean that aspect of the before. She barely tolerated Hermione since Rabastan's situation. Their loud fights ceased weeks ago. The glares, the snippy comments, the underlying tension... Those, though, remained.
Of course, at the time when they had consummated the marriage, they barely interacted as well, and largely only according to the schedule...
Hermione pushed away from the desk. She left her wand sitting next to her books. She was going to prove herself wrong, and be back.
Studying wasn't happening anyway at the moment.
Hermione froze several steps inside the Master bedroom.
In the bright warm light, with the burnt curtains and rugs replaced, the room looked even more imposing than usual. Hermione, in her comfortable PJ bottoms and the old t-shirt, felt even more out of place there than she usually did.
Bellatrix was indeed there. Leaning on the windowsill. Looking out the dark window. Dressed in a heavy night robe over the shimmery floor-length nightgown.
She turned towards the door at Hermione's arrival.
Her normally pale cheeks had a hint of color. And, all of Bellatrix appeared to vibrate with some type of energy.
Hermione didn't have much time to contemplate the situation.
Briefly, it looked like their morning spat would get a follow-up... or a spin-off.
Instead, Bellatrix shook her head almost imperceptibly... and took off her robe.
Whatever Hermione thought to ask, or say, came to a halt.
The nightgown was light and shimmery, and sort of see-through.
Specifically, the longer Hermione stared, the less of a gown appeared to be in the way.
An uneven faint shadow at the witch's left forearm formed into the faded dark mark. The twin shadows took shape of erect nipples. The darker shadow between the witch's legs...
Hermione didn't wait for more details to come through.
Her eyes shot back up to Bellatrix's.
Nothing that morning, week, or all the months prior, for that matter, indicated anything of the sort would happen... possibly not ever.
She glanced worriedly at the lights all over the place.
Her heart pounded in her ears.
Her face was heating up.
Bellatrix despised sex. Even kissing... The two times that they had kissed, things went from whatever to worse. They couldn't afford any worse. Surely Bellatrix didn't mean the only logical thing Hermione's mind suggested the situation implied.
Black eyes blinked closed.
Unsteady hand pulled slowly at the laced neck of the gown.
The intricate design, which held the gown in place, untangled.
The gown clung to Bellatrix shoulders for a valiant moment.
Shoulder shifted slightly in a half-shrug.
And the gown was on the floor.
As Bellatrix put during one of their breakfast discussions, Blacks were spelled to be just above ugly, by the Dark Ages' standards. To ward off the unwanted attention and dangerous speculations.
High cheekbones and hooded eyes broke the proper oval in fashion at the time; the foreheads - just a tad lower; the eyebrows - a tad thicker; mouth and teeth - a tad larger; the shoulders - less sloppy; the waists - wider; the hips - narrower; the stomach - flatter; the breasts - larger.
The eyes were never green. The hair always complimented the eye color. Everywhere.
No birthmarks, moles, freckles… or warts. No dimples, widow peaks, chin clefts, six fingers... No unlucky, or lucky, deformities of any kind. To avoid suspicions of sorcery.
Pale, hard-to-tan, hard-to-burn skin, to avoid speculation of peasantry or outdoors pursuits.
Clearing of a throat snapped Hermione out of her stunned checklist-ing.
Hermione's cheeks burned.
Stuttering the beginnings of several thoughts at once, Hermione waved helplessly in the general direction of Bellatrix, and the room around them.
Finally, she found a fact she could articulate concisely, fully, and loudly.
'THE LIGHTS!' she exclaimed, shrilly enough to startle herself.
She then proceeded to reach...
stumble...
fall...
for Bellatrix nightgown...
in a noble attempt to drag the shimmery thing back up the witch.
That not-very-thought-through decision found Hermione on her knees and at a curious eye level.
Hermione blushed furiously; glanced up; met wide unreadable look in black eyes; stammered the lights once more; dropped gaze; and froze.
Thin pale lines, not dissimilar to the one's left by Bellatrix blade on her body, were in front of her. Unlike the eight uneven letters on her own forearm, those marks were print perfect, and more numerous.
Hermione's hand reached to touch scarred flesh.
Bellatrix's hand tangled in her hair and non-too-gently dragged her upright.
The witch let go of Hermione's hair.
Bellatrix eyes avoided Hermione's.
Deep blush marred the pale cheeks.
'What- what are those?'
Without conscious thought, Hermione's eyes drifted down.
A slap stung.
'As if you don't know already!' Bellatrix seethed. 'I won't be ridiculed!'
Bellatrix stepped around Hermione, and hurried towards the door.
Hermione rubbed her cheek as she followed. That was new... something to dwell on later. She was finally learning something. She wasn't about to let stuff get in the way.
Bellatrix wrenched the door open.
Hermione pushed it back closed.
'I'm not! How exactly was I to know?!'
Sandwiched between the door and Hermione, Bellatrix whirled to face her.
'You healed me!' Bellatrix screeched. 'And the papers! And since then-'
The witch clamped her mouth shut.
She pushed weakly at the younger witch.
Hermione refused to move.
Instead, she pushed firmer at the door, until it clicked fully shut.
The move eliminated whatever space remained between the two witches.
Part of Hermione remembered who Bellatrix was, and where her wand was left, and so was absolutely astonished, and terrified, by her own audacity.
The rest of Hermione was simply not in the mood to let anything go unexplained any longer.
'Since then what?!'
'Go to hell!'
The two glared, and breathed each other's air. Loudly. Angrily.
'Since then what, Bellatrix?' Hermione asked quietly after a few moments.
Bellatrix flush deepened.
She looked away.
'You haven't touched me. Not in passing. Not in anger. Not to even retaliate.'
Hermione rubbed her cheek.
'I kissed you'
Dark witch scoffed.
'To get a rise out of me! Because your precious friends were coming!'
Thinking back, Hermione had to admit the witch had a point. The wrong point, but still...
'Bellatrix...' Hermione touched Bellatrix's shoulder lightly. 'I hadn't looked at those papers beyond the time it took to realize what they are. Perhaps I shouldn't have implied otherwise... But you lied! To my face! You led me to believe you burned them. I might have felt slightly vindictive about it.'
Dark eyes met brown briefly.
Hermione sighed.
She tried again.
'And the healing... if you mean the horrible part the healer had me do... You were covered by blood and that weird rot...' Hermione swallowed hard, remembering. 'It was like a second skin... It wasn't exactly a sightseeing activity.'
She waited for the witch to look at her. But the dark gaze was fixed stubbornly somewhere behind her.
'I know how you are about the clothing, or rather the lack of it... I wouldn't do that… You have to know that.'
That earned her a brief careful glance.
'If you like... It's not the easiest memory. But I'll share. When you're up for it.'
And that earned her a stare.
'If you are not lying, why-'
Hermione waited for Bellatrix to finish the question. Nothing followed.
So she answered it anyway.
'I was giving you space. You've been so angry...'
There was just rapid breathing in the room for long moments.
The energy seeped out of Bellatrix's posture. And her shoulders slumped.
'You didn't know?'
'Not till now...'
'You were giving me space?..'
'Yeah… I didn't think anything too personal would be welcomed.' Hermione swallowed. 'And... I didn't think I had a right to push that... after everything that happened. I am sorry that day went the way it did. I'm sorry I tricked you into waking up the way I did... knowing how you are about those things-'
Hermione had plenty more to say. Over the weeks she, and Bellatrix, had found plenty of things to blame her for.
Bellatrix made an odd half-laugh half-cough, and slammed her head against the door.
Quite soundly.
'Merlin!'
The body between Hermione and the door trembled even as the witch cackled.
'So now you know.' The witch stated.
Hermione didn't know what to say.
'Move!' This time the push was hard enough to make Hermione stumble backwards. 'That is why there were rules! That look! I don't want your pity! Pity those who dared!'
The furious glare warned Hermione from stopping Bellatrix's departure once more.
Bellatrix pulled the door open, and stormed out.
Hermione heard the door to Bellatrix's bedroom slam closed.
She debated following.
In the end, she decided to give the older witch a moment to compose herself.
There was something she wanted to confirm first.
Hermione went to her bedroom.
On her bedside sat a stack of books on the old wizarding families. The books were her attempt to get to the bottom of Head of Family conundrum.
She leafed through a couple of them until she found the section on The Lestrange Family.
The illustration next to the family introduction showed the mostly empty part of the family tapestry with meaningful for the family symbols.
Back to back Ls, the raven runes, the flowers outlines.
Bellatrix skin had cuts not dissimilar to those designs.
And then there were writings.
Hermione didn't remember the longer string of words along Bellatrix's upper thigh and side. The family motto however seemed to fit what she did remember.
"corvus oculum corvi non eruit"
There was also a shorter string; at the time, at Hermione's eye level; an inch or so below the witch's navel.
"domus corvorum"
Hermione didn't need the Latin dictionary, but she checked all the same.
"home of ravens"
Shaken by her discoveries, Hermione snapped the books closed.
She did not want to face Bellatrix.
Yet, she didn't dare to let the witch stew in her upset, alone, either.
She gave Bellatrix plenty of space over the past few weeks. Space which was clearly not appreciated.
With a deep breath, Hermione headed to the door.
There were no locks or wards on Bellatrix's bedroom.
The room was quiet, mostly orderly, and empty. Partially shuttered fireplace cast space in a dim light.
Bellatrix was in the bathroom, in front of the full-length mirror, still naked, still trembling, and glowering at her own reflection.
Hermione's presence, if noticed, was completely ignored.
Hermione hesitated. She expected the witch to rage, or to cry, and most definitely to be dressed by now.
This odd stare-down was much more unnerving.
Hoping Bellatrix's malicious intent was limited to the mirror, Hermione silently summoned the bathrobe and carefully sat the clothing around the older witch.
Black eyes met brown in the mirror.
Lips in the mirror curved into a sneer.
'Did your research, didn't you?'
Hermione shook her head; and for some reason was startled to see her reflection do the same.
She cleared her throat.
'You knew I would remember...' her eyes momentarily dropped to her own forearm, 'you knew, because you remember.'
She met the black eyes in the mirror.
'It doesn't matter. To me. I'm sorry that for a while you thought it did.'
Bellatrix cackled. But there was no mirth in the sound.
'Silly Muggle! It doesn't matter because you don't understand.' She whirled around to look at Hermione directly. 'But you will.'
With that Bellatrix went back into the room.
Hermione followed a few moments later.
Bellatrix was bent over the desk scribbling something on the parchment.
Curious, Hermione waited. Two torn parchments, and a broken quill, later it became clear the message might take some time.
Hermione was nodding off when Bellatrix straightened up, finished scroll in hand.
Bellatrix blinked mutely at the situation in front of her.
Her bed was unmade. The extra pillows and blankets were arranged in its middle. Just like she normally had them at night.
Hermione was reclining on one side of the bed with her own pillow and blanket.
Muggle PJs and socks were in a pile on the bed bench.
'What do you think you are doing?!'
The outraged hiss woke Hermione up.
She sat up straighter.
This was a spur of the moment decision.
'I'm staying.'
'This is my bed!'
Hermione shrugged.
'Every bed is my bed. I'm the Head of House. Courtesy of you. Remember, darling?'
And just so Bellatrix had something truly outrageous to object to, Hermione continued.
'Actually, from now on, if I'm on the island, we share.'
Crumpled parchment landed next to Hermione.
'Never said you are the Head' muttered Bellatrix on her way back to the bathroom.
Hermione blinked curiously at the closed ensuite door.
She expected more of a fight.
At least her audacity distracted the dark witch from the drama at hand...
The parchment was about five inches long. The writing was a mix of runes and Latin-like script. Some of the runes appeared familiar. The language, on the other hand, did not.
Disappointed, Hermione sat the scroll aside. It looked like it would take some time to figure out.
Bellatrix reemerged dressed in her usual sleepwear, with hair arranged in its usual loose braid.
There was barely any heat in her glare at still present Hermione.
She settled into her cocoon of blankets and pillows.
'Keep that to yourself unless you wish for aurors' undivided attention.' she stated, clearly about the parchment. 'I won't talk about things. But I'll show you the answers to your questions. If you are stupid enough to still wish so.'
A pang of apprehension shot through Hermione.
The answers were in reach. But was it worth it?..
Bellatrix wasn't exactly a delicate wallflower. Yet, she was obviously disturbed by something in her past. The past which almost killed them in the present.
Hermione wanted to be a bigger person and to pass up the information.
But she couldn't.
She wanted to know.
Bellatrix was offering. It wasn't like Hermione threatened her, or drugged her with veritaserum, or something.
Not wanting to do something and doing it anyway was different from being made to do something.
'I wish so.' she whispered stubbornly after a few moments.
There was a deep sign from under the blankets.
'Fine. Tomorrow night.'
Silence settled over the room.
Hermione almost jumped out of her skin when, as she was dozing off, the back of Bellatrix's hand touched her forearm.
The hand retreated immediately.
Hermione sighed.
'Bellatrix?..'
The blankets were silent and still.
Hermione sighed.
She couldn't do anything right where Bellatrix was concerned lately.
End of Chapter 59