Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 

There is sexual content in this part.

(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19),   (20),   (21),   (22),   (23), (24),   (25),   (26),   (27)   (28)



****
29.
 
The next few days passed without disruption for Hermione and Bellatrix. There were hardly any arguments between them, although there was a tense moment after Bellatrix arrived back from an interview at the Ministry, where she had been forced to discuss the extensive list of crimes she had committed over the years in order for her official pardon to be prepared. Hermione still had absolutely no desire to know of the horrors that Bellatrix had subjected Muggle-borns and Muggles to, and so she avoided asking Bellatrix too many questions about what had happened for fear that she would inadvertently learn something terrible about the older witch. Thankfully, Bellatrix appeared only too happy to ignore the subject, and after a few sarcastic comments directed towards Hermione, she had spent the entire evening alone in any room apart from wherever Hermione chose to be.
 
On occasion, Hermione could see that Bellatrix was irritated by her seeming lack of purpose in life now that Voldemort was dead, but whenever she started to become agitated, Hermione usually found some way of distracting her. Most often than not it involved taking off her clothes, but at the moment, Hermione didn’t have any better ideas. She was concerned about what Bellatrix would do when she went back to Hogwarts, but she hoped that by then a solution would have presented itself or Bellatrix would have accepted her new life by that point.
 
One morning, Hermione sat eating her bowl of cereal whilst Bellatrix still remained in bed, when Lemmy entered the room in a rather unconventional way compared to her usual choice of entrance by walking through the door. The reason for this quickly became clear, however, by the presence of the blonde woman striding in behind her. Immediately, Hermione felt conscious, simply due to the fact that she was wearing a short, silky black dressing gown with nothing else underneath. It was as close to mortifying as she felt it could get, and with no power to control the way her body reacted to the humiliation, she felt her cheeks start to darken with embarrassment.
 
“Narcissa,” she choked out.
 
“Miss Granger,” Narcissa replied, her eyes trailing over Hermione’s body. Her expression remained impassive, but Hermione imagined that had she revealed her true feelings, disapproval would be the main feature.
 
“Miss Hermione,” Lemmy squeaked, interrupting. “Lemmy will leave Miss Narcissa with you, if that is ok?”
 
“Of course it is, Lemmy,” Hermione said kindly, trying to hide her anxiety. “Go and take a break; do whatever you like.”
 
As usually happened when Hermione treated her with such respect, (and rather like Dobby) Lemmy’s eyes filled with tears. “Bless you, Miss,” she said, her voice full of thanks, before she disappeared with a crack.
 
Throughout Hermione’s brief conversation with Lemmy, Narcissa had watched their interaction, seemingly intrigued. Or at least, that was the impression that Hermione got from the miniscule amount of emotion that Narcissa had allowed to seep through into her facial features. Apparently she was interested in the dynamics between Hermione and her elf friend, causing Hermione to wonder briefly if Narcissa had treated Dobby the same way as Lucius had when he had belonged to them. She didn’t think so considered the love that Kreacher had held for her and Bellatrix, because for all their faults, the Blacks had seemed to realise the importance of treating house-elves with respect, albeit for selfish motives to guarantee loyalty. Nevertheless, in Hermione’s book they earned brownie points for that at least.
 
“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked tentatively when Narcissa still hadn’t spoken after an awkward silence.
 
Narcissa took a step towards her, and said in an even tone, “I have come to speak with my sister. Is she here?”
 
Hermione nodded. “Yes, she’s here. But... she’s still asleep at the moment,” she informed the older witch. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was half past nine. “She doesn’t usually get up for another half hour.”
 
Rolling her eyes, Narcissa placed her handbag down on the table. It was made of dragon’s hide and looked expensive; had they been in the Muggle world, Hermione would have guessed it to be Gucci or Valentino. More than ever, it highlighted the differences between Narcissa and Bellatrix, because whereas Bellatrix still wore expensive clothing and had now started to wear makeup and take care of her appearance, there was something different about Narcissa that screamed “Member of High Wizarding Society”.
 
“Ah yes, I forgot about Bellatrix’s penchant for sleeping late into the morning,” Narcissa said dryly. “Do you want to be the one to wake her up, or shall I?”
 
“Uhh, well you’re welcome to wait in the lounge until she wakes up,” Hermione offered. She was almost certain that Bellatrix would not be impressed with being woken up before she was ready, whether by her lover or her sister.
 
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and ignoring the offer, she drawled, “I assume that means I’ll be the one to wake her?”
 
Hermione sighed inwardly. Apparently, the ability to be awkward and annoying ran through the whole of the Black family. She had seen signs of it in Sirius when he had been alive, she witnessed it in Bellatrix every waking moment of every day, and now she had learnt that Narcissa too possessed the same trait. Brilliant. How lovely for her it was going to be at family gatherings. Knowing her luck, Andromeda would prove to be the same way inclined, meaning that she would have three of them to deal with at once. This really was shaping up to be a fantastic day.
 
“You know, Miss Granger, Bellatrix is not the only Legilimens in the family,” Narcissa said, sounding as though she was hinting at something.
 
For a moment, Hermione wondered why Narcissa was telling her this, before with utter mortification, she realised that Narcissa was aware of her thoughts. It seemed that if Hermione was oblivious to the attempt and didn’t try to resist the mind intrusion she didn’t feel weakened though, which was something at least. Nevertheless, exasperated with her inability to leave up her Occlumency barriers when not actively practising it, she put them in place now. May as well at least attempt some sort of damage control, after all.
 
Deciding the safest thing to do would be to ignore the entire conversation, Hermione stated, “I’m just going to go and get Bellatrix.”
 
She swept from the room without another word to Narcissa, or even so much as a glance in her direction. She felt more intimidated by the blonde witch than she had ever thought possible, or indeed than she had ever felt with Bellatrix. It was like Narcissa held some sort of subtle power over Hermione, though why this would be the case Hermione couldn’t say. She supposed that as time went on she would become more used to her lover’s sister, but as it stood at present, she felt entirely uncomfortable in her presence. If it was the case that she felt the same around Andromeda then she would automatically have assumed that it was because of Semper Amor; maybe there was a strange side effect because they were linked by blood to Bellatrix? Perhaps it was the way that Narcissa treated her? Andromeda looked far more like Bellatrix so it couldn’t be the physical appearance that caused it, but when it came to personality, Narcissa was more sarcastic and judgmental in the way that Bellatrix was, as opposed to Andromeda who was positively warm and caring in comparison.
 
Hermione had been so busy looking up Occlumency, and reading the many other fascinating books in Bellatrix’s library that she had yet to consider the Semper Amor in great detail; though in hindsight she really should find the time to do so considering that it had made such an impact on her life. Maybe there would be a book that would provide the answers to her for why she reacted in such a manner towards Narcissa, though she didn’t hold out too much hope considering that it wasn’t as though she had feelings for Narcissa.
 
Shaking away her confused thoughts, Hermione entered the bedroom she shared with Bellatrix. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness, sitting on the bed next to the raven haired beauty that was her girlfriend... partner... whatever. She smiled as she noted how oddly innocent Bellatrix looked in her sleep, and unable to resist, she brushed hair back from Bellatrix’s face, and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. She felt the heat radiating from Bellatrix as she did so, and going one step further, she drew an arm around her warm body, and pressed her lips against Bellatrix’s ear. “Wake up, Bella,” she whispered.
 
Bellatrix didn’t respond.
 
Rolling her eyes, Hermione gently kissed Bellatrix’s earlobe, and traced kisses down along her jaw, before pressing a slightly firmer kiss against her closed mouth. This time, she managed to elicit a groan from Bellatrix, and encouraged, she spoke slightly louder. “Your sister is here.”
 
Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered, though she still didn’t speak.
 
“Come on,” Hermione said, firmer now. “Narcissa is waiting for you, and I get the feeling she’s not exactly patient. If I were you I’d be grateful for the time I’ve afforded you and get up before she drags you out of bed herself.”
 
“No she won’t,” Bellatrix mumbled, finally engaging in conversation. “I’ll curse her straight out of the window.”
 
Hermione smirked. “As amusing as I find that idea, you still need to get up.” Taking another stab at tempting Bellatrix, she moved the duvet down, revealing the flawless skin of Bellatrix’s chest. Lowering her head, she began placing small, fast kisses on each and every inch of bare skin, drawing another moan from Bellatrix. She grinned to herself as she felt her lover arch up into her, and Bellatrix slowly raised a hand to press Hermione’s head down against her chest harder, increasing the amount of pressure.
 
Allowing her dressing gown to fall open, Hermione was utterly distracted from the fact that she was supposed to be getting Bellatrix out of bed to see Narcissa, and instead focused all of her efforts on kissing, licking and sucking on each of her nipples. The only reason she wanted Bellatrix to wake up now was so that she could have her full attention and persuade her that there were more enjoyable activities for them to be doing than merely sleeping the morning away. Bellatrix had began to stir beneath her, apparently no longer able to sleep peacefully when Hermione was doing her best to make her feel all kinds of wonderful. Eventually she opened her eyes fully, gazing down at Hermione’s head where she had rested her chin on Bellatrix’s flat stomach.
 
“I’m awake now,” Bellatrix croaked, giving Hermione a sleepy smirk.
 
“Finally,” Hermione responded teasingly.
 
“I’m not getting up though,” Bellatrix declared, before pointedly yawning. “I’m just going to lie here and let you do all the work.”
 
“Is that so?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. She hauled herself up, straddling Bellatrix’s stomach, resting her legs either side of the older woman’s body.
 
Bellatrix nodded. “Get going, little babe.”
 
Opening her mouth to retort, Hermione froze as she heard a delicate cough come from behind her. Without turning around she knew it could only be one person, Narcissa, yet she was unable to move to shut her dressing gown, literally rooted to the spot with total embarrassment for what felt like the millionth time that morning. This was even worse than when Narcissa had walked into the kitchen not so long ago, because at least then she hasn’t been in such a compromising position. Silently, she pleaded with Bellatrix by looking down at her, hoping that Bellatrix would get the hint and deal with the situation.
 
“I was under the impression that Miss Granger was going to fetch you for me, Bellatrix. Evidently, she appears to have... forgotten what she was coming to wake you for,” Narcissa drawled, her voice clearer as she stepped into the room, and walked over towards the bed.
 
Bellatrix grinned. “I can’t help it if I’m such a distraction, Cissy.”
 
Apparently though, Bellatrix was conscious enough to draw Hermione’s dressing gown around her once more, and to tie a knot tightly in the front to prevent it from loosening again. It seemed that even though Narcissa was her heterosexual sister, Bellatrix was still wary enough about Hermione’s body being on show to do something about it. Without a doubt Hermione should have found this annoying, but instead she couldn’t help feeling it to be endearing that Bellatrix was jealous enough to think her naked body was worth seeing.
 
“Well if you could restrain yourselves for half an hour or so, I would appreciate it if I could speak to you,” Narcissa said, addressing Bellatrix, and sensibly keeping her eyes firmly away from Hermione.
 
“Fine,” Bellatrix sighed. “Go and wait in the sitting room... we’ll be in now.”
 
Silence. And then Narcissa said, “Actually Bella, I wish to speak with you alone.”
 
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Whilst there had been embarrassment felt by Hermione before, there wasn’t any real tension or bad feeling in the room, but with Narcissa’s words came awkwardness. Hermione was torn between being upset and angry for being left out, because although she understood that Narcissa may want to spend time alone with Bellatrix, she didn’t need to be so blatant or coldly cruel about it. What was wrong with politely apologising and asking Hermione if she didn’t mind? But no, she was a Black, and Blacks didn’t bother to make the time for niceties.
 
Moreover, Hermione was worried. What if Narcissa’s intention was to persuade Bellatrix that she was making a huge mistake by forming a relationship with Hermione? If there was one person in the world that Bellatrix would listen to since Voldemort had gone, it was Narcissa. To a certain extent, Bellatrix would indulge Hermione, but there was a different kind of bond that she had with her sister that seemed to matter just as much, possibly more than Semper Amor. She might actually give serious consideration to Bellatrix’s words, and that was what worried Hermione the most.
 
Forcing a smile on her face, she spoke before Bellatrix could respond. “That’s fine. I’ll just go to have a bath and dress.”
 
Quickly, she exited the bedroom, refusing to allow herself to look in Narcissa’s direction as she left. She didn’t use the en-suite in case Bellatrix chose to remain in the bedroom to chat with Narcissa, and so she instead made her way towards the bathroom she had once used when she had been a prisoner here. On autopilot, Hermione shut herself in the bathroom, undressing and getting into the bath the moment it had finished running.
 
For half an hour or so after washing, she lay there silently, staring ahead, her mind numb. She was so tired of always thinking, of being on edge so much just when things felt normal again. The fights, the battles, the dangers she had faced over the years had left her feeling far older than her eighteen years. When she was a little girl, before she had learned that she was a witch, she had envisioned herself in a completely different situation than the one she was currently in. Taking her A Levels, apply for Oxbridge to study dentistry, medicine, or another respectable degree, and then after gaining a First, progressing in the career of her choice, marrying and having two point five children. Instead, she was living with a witch some thirty years her senior, her parents were somewhere unknown in another continent, unaware of her existence, many of those she loved were dead, and her remaining friendships were precarious to say the least.
 
No longer able to stop the pressure from building up inside her stomach, knowing it had gotten too much, Hermione let out a cry. She slammed her head back against the bath, filled with rage and hate, not know how she had suddenly gone from feeling ok about things to feeling the worst she had in a long while. Completely distressed, she let the tears flow freely, letting go for the first time in as long as she could remember. The crying she had done up until this point had been restrained, quietened sobs that she still had a certain amount of control over, but no longer did she care. She didn’t give a fuck, because her life was so confusing, so messed up, and she didn’t know who she was anymore. She had done things the past year that she never imagined herself to be capable of. What little girl dreamt of destroying parts of a creature’s soul when she grew up? What little girl dreamt about falling in love with one of the most hated people in their community? What little girl is forced to let go of their parents, to force them to forget, just to keep them safe?
 
She felt for Harry, she truly did. Neville too, and Luna who had lost her mother when she was younger, but no one seemed to remember what she was going through with her own parents. Other than sarcastic comments from Ron during their last meeting, when had he or Harry bothered to ask her how she was feeling about the fact her parents were thousands of miles away without her? Not once. She understood there were more important things to worry about, but for them to ask every now and then would have been enough for her. Even now she was too afraid to find her parents, scared that she couldn’t reverse the effects of the charm, that something had gone wrong, or that Death Eaters had gotten to them and Bellatrix was hiding it from her. These past few weeks she had stopped herself from actively thinking about them, telling herself she was happy, but she could lie no more. All she wanted was her mum and dad. Was that so much to ask for?
 
“Miss Granger.”
 
Barely hearing the voice, Hermione continued to cry, the tears steadily dripping down her face into the rapidly chilling water. She didn’t care though, for she still had vivid memories of when she had taken a freezing cold bath, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. That was how she would choose to identify the differences in the Bellatrix’s she knew from now on, she decided. Bellatrix Lestrange would be her evil torturer, and Bellatrix Black would be the woman who sometimes loved her. A simple, yet complex distinction both at the same time.
 
“Hermione.”
 
Hearing her first name, the voice louder now, Hermione slowly turned her head, and gazed into the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. She faced away from her once more, and pulled her knees up so they pressed into her chest, protecting her modesty. Despite this, she felt naked in more than just the physical sense, and so she buried her head into her legs, her sobs shaking the whole of her body now. It didn’t matter that Narcissa was here to witness her breakdown, because she had already seen her in the most revealing of positions on several occasions previously, from the time of her torture at Malfoy Manor to her intimacy with Bellatrix in the bedroom earlier on.
 
“Hermione,” Narcissa spoke again. “Look at me.”
 
“No,” Hermione said, her voice muffled. Half-heartedly, she added, “I don’t even know why you’re here anyway considering the fact you hate me.”
 
“I don’t hate you,” Narcissa proclaimed quietly.
 
“Yes you do,” Hermione said, insisting in a toneless voice that lacked emotion entirely. “When Bellatrix hurt me at your Manor... you just stood and watched. You did nothing.” She stressed the last word, the only possible indicator that the memory of this still wounded her. It wasn’t as if that was the only incident either; she vividly remembered the incident in Madam Malkin’s just before the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts, when Narcissa had referred to her as “scum” before storming off with Draco.
 
Narcissa cleared her throat awkward. “I apologise. I know that what I did was wrong, but you have to understand the position I was in. I had no idea of Bellatrix’s intentions at that stage, and I had my husband and son to think about. I derived no pleasure from watching you in pain, but ultimately there was nothing I could do to make things different.”
 
“And that makes it ok, does it?” Hermione asked. For a split second she wanted to roar with laughter for no apparent reason, for the situation was far from funny. So this is what crazy feels like.
 
 
“Of course not; I am merely trying to explain that I don’t hate you. Granted, it is a little strange to see you and Bellatrix so... close... but I am becoming used to the idea, I assure you,” Narcissa said, sounding the sincerest she ever had.
 
Hermione wanted to believe her, but somehow, she couldn’t make herself. “Just leave me alone.”
 
“I can’t do that,” Narcissa said, her voice impossibly soft. “What is the matter?”
 
“This has nothing to do with you,” Hermione said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how or why you’re in here, but I want you to leave.”
 
“I heard you crying on my way back to the library to Floo home,” Narcissa said, still speaking in the same gentle voice. “You didn’t lock the door, and so I didn’t exactly have to force my way in.”
 
Hermione wished she had thought to cast Muffliato now, if only to have stopped Narcissa from hearing her during her moment of vulnerability. If she had come into the bathroom for an ulterior motive then it wouldn’t have prevented her unless Hermione had put up wards before bathing, but seeing as she never bothered to do that, she wouldn’t have ever thought to do such a thing. And somehow, she suspected that Narcissa was telling the truth, but that didn’t make it any easier to be sat here now, showing weakness in front of her. She wasn’t hiding her upset because there was no point, but it still made her feel ten times smaller around the formidable blonde witch. She remained quiet, trying to control her tears, but is seemed all her willpower had Disapparated to a faraway place where she could no longer reach it. Desperately, she dug her nails into her legs in an attempt to help herself feel calmer, but it didn’t work.
 
Several seconds later, and she felt a warm hand rest on her back. After her first immediate flinch, she accepted in her own mind that it was just Narcissa attempting to comfort her, and so she tried to relax and think clearly. She had no clue why Narcissa was being nice to her, or even why she was addressing her by her first name all of a sudden, but right now she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to consider the reasons for this. The only thing she could think to do was to not talk, waiting for Narcissa to be the one to speak again.
 
She didn’t disappoint. “Shall I get Bellatrix?” Narcissa asked finally.
 
Hermione debated the question. On one hand, Narcissa was going to tell Bellatrix about this encounter whether she wanted her to or not, but on the other, did she want Bellatrix here now to make her feel better? Would she even make her feel ok again? The older witch was far from comforting in the traditional sense, but it may be that her presence forced Hermione to be brave, or at the very least stopped her from sobbing like a complete imbecile. It had been years since she had been properly consoled anyhow; being best friends with two obtuse teenage boys and being away from her parents for the majority of the year had meant that she’d dealt with most mini-teenage crises by either crying alone quietly at night, or speaking to Ginny if the chance was afforded to her, for the rest of the girls she shared a dormitory with or were in her year were utterly useless.
 
Coming to a decision, Hermione had just decided to tell Narcissa not to bother fetching Bellatrix and that she had to get out straight away, when she heard footsteps entering the room. Without hesitation, Narcissa drew her hand back from Hermione, and shuffled away from her position at the bath where she had been leaning over kneeling for the entire time she had been with her.
 
“What’s going on?” Hermione heard Bellatrix ask.
 
Looking up, Hermione watched as Narcissa stood and made her way over to Bellatrix. She bent close to Bellatrix’s ear and whispered something that without a doubt was related to Hermione. Immediately after, she placed a hand gently on Bellatrix’s shoulder and then exited the room without so much as another glance in Hermione’s direction. Hermione supposed she was leaving to go home, and so she sat perfectly still, staring at Bellatrix and wondering whether she was going to fly into a rage or ignore the situation entirely. Bellatrix hated her tears and so it would be much easier for her to turn a blind eye and walk away, leaving Hermione to deal with her own emotions. Is it time to ignore me or tell me to stop crying?  
 
She did neither. How odd.
 
“Come,” Bellatrix said, and walking over to the bath, she waved her wand and wordlessly summoned a towel from the shelf. With strong arms she lifted Hermione from the cold water, and still supporting her weight, she wrapped a towel around Hermione’s shaking body.
 
Hermione did as was expected, not bothering to fight Bellatrix for she didn’t have the energy. She allowed Bellatrix to haul her out of the bath, and then with a surprising amount of strength even for Bellatrix, she carried her in her arms out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom. After brushing through Hermione’s hair and casting a charm to dry it, Bellatrix surveyed her, a questioning look in her dark brown eyes. She was entirely in control as always seemed to be the case, with the power to make or break Hermione.
 
With this thought came a sick realisation for Hermione. “It’s sort of like I’m your little Mudblood slave girl again, isn’t I?” she said, smiling but deadly serious. “Look, I’m even wearing a towel like I used to!”
 
Bellatrix visibly swallowed. Carefully, Bellatrix pulled the towel from Hermione, revealing her naked body once more. Hermione allowed herself to be dressed in clean underwear from her drawer, before Bellatrix took her own heavy, green dressing gown from the wardrobe, and helped Hermione into it. After appearing to show concern in making sure Hermione was completely dressed, the raven haired witch tucked Hermione’s legs underneath the duvet, and manoeuvred her head so that it leant against the pillow as she sat up, leaning against the headboard.
 
Casually sitting to the side of Hermione, but facing her direction, Bellatrix took hold of Hermione’s hands. “What is the matter with you?” she asked, voice calm, not accusing. Even odder.
 
“Nothing,” Hermione denied. How could she possibly put into words the way she felt? How could Bellatrix ever begin to understand and empathise with her when she wasn’t exactly emotionally capable of putting herself in another’s shoes?
 
“There is something wrong, little babe. Tell me why you were crying,” Bellatrix said softly. “Tell me what you need.”
 
“You can’t help me, Bella,” Hermione whispered. “You will never understand.”
 
Bellatrix watched her for a few moments, and it looked as though she were debating with herself what to do. Her expression changed. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “Because you’re going to be angry with me for this, but if you won’t talk...”
 
So shocked was Hermione at Bellatrix’s unexplained apology, that she failed to realise what she was going to do until it was too late. By the time she realised Bellatrix was performing Legilimency on her, the first layers of her mind had already been broken through, and due to the distressed state that she was in, her defences were even worse than usual. Hermione saw disjointed flashes in her head of her capture... the dead faces of all her friends... even the moment she had seen Harry lain on the floor, assumed dead... when she had to wipe her parent’s memories... and then Ron arguing with her... the kiss in the Room of Requirement.
 
No, she panicked. No no no!
 
With every last ounce of energy she possessed, she forced Bellatrix out of her head. The world around her span, and colours whirled around confusing her, making her forget where she was. The only thing she was aware of was that Bellatrix was no longer holding her hands, and that she was lying down rather than sitting, evidently having slumped during her defence. As she began to think more lucidly, her vision returned to her. Blinking, she forced herself upwards, and looked towards Bellatrix, trying not to shake too violently.
 
Bellatrix sat digging her nails into her knees, breathing heavily. Her hands were trembling, her face was pale, and were it not for the murderous expression in her eyes, Hermione would have assumed her to be upset. As it was, she realised the reason for Bellatrix’s fury was the kiss she had shared with Ron. Bellatrix had seen it in Hermione’s mind, had even seen Hermione initiate it. The chance of her believing the real reason for it, even if she looked inside of Hermione’s mind again, was extremely slim. Desperately, Hermione tried to force her mind to work again properly, for she couldn’t afford to be upset and vulnerable when she badly had to explain and defend herself.
 
“That last image...” Bellatrix said, and her voice was low, dangerous. “It was during the Final Battle, wasn’t it?”
 
“Y-yes. N-nothing I say will make you believe me, but I didn’t think. My mind was working overtime, and Ron was ju-just being so nice, and I just... well I was thinking of you, and somehow in my head I got everything confused, and I... kissed him,” Hermione stammered. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.”
 
“Do you have any idea,” Bellatrix said, still speaking in the same growling tone. “How much I want to hurt you right now?”
 
Hermione was vaguely aware that she should be more afraid, but somehow, she couldn’t find it in her to feel anything but defeated. “Yes... and I’m not going to try and stop you if you decide to. What’s the point? It doesn’t matter how much I tell you I love you; you’re always jealous of something.”
 
“You kissed him,” Bellatrix said, sounding disgusted.
 
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t what it looked like. That’s why I didn’t tell you... because that kiss mean nothing.”
 
“Oh of course it meant nothing,” Bellatrix said sarcastically. “How ridiculous of me to assume otherwise!”
 
“Bella,” Hermione said, waiting until Bellatrix looked directly at her until she spoke again. “I feel so terrible right now. You... you saw that in the bathroom just now. Please don’t make this harder for me... I feel so alone because everything is different. I’ve lost several friends during the war, and I might never see my parents again. I don’t think I can bear for you to leave me too.”
 
“Leave?” Bellatrix said, sounding incredulous. “Why would I leave? That ugly kiss? If anything, the mere thought of that makes me want to keep you here to suffer.”
 
“I assumed that Narcissa asked you to end what we have,” Hermione said, ignoring the thinly veiled threat and voicing her one of her greatest fears. “Why else would she want to talk to you alone?” Stay calm, stay calm.
 
Bellatrix shook her head. “You’re wrong. She wanted to pass on to me Lucius’ pathetic little concerns about our relationship, but only because he is her husband and asked her to. She wouldn’t dream of asking us to end things! You think that she hates you, but she doesn’t. I saw the way that she looked at you today, and it wasn’t hate. In fact, she warned me to take care of you before she returned home.”
 
Thinking over what had happened in the bathroom, Hermione remembered Narcissa whispering in Bellatrix’s ear. Should she believe her? Bellatrix would have no reason to lie, and so she assumed it to be the truth. It did beg the question as to why Narcissa was being so kind, but that wasn’t something that was a major issue for Hermione at the moment; her main problem was dealing with Bellatrix’s feelings on the Ron situation. Discussions regarding Narcissa didn’t matter as long as Bellatrix was willing to ignore what her blonde sister thought of Hermione. Nevertheless it may be the truth, for Bellatrix had cared for her today in a way she had never done so previously, which quite possibly could have been because of something Narcissa said.
 
“You were doing a good job of taking care of me before you performed Legilimency on me,” Hermione said, feeling hurt.
 
“Maybe I should practice Avada Kedavra on Weasley,” Bellatrix hissed, ignoring Hermione and focusing on her own thoughts. “If he was out of the picture then I wouldn’t need to worry so much.”
 
Unaware that she was even crying again until she felt a tear rolling down her cheek, Hermione replied, “You don’t need to worry anyway. It’s only you I want.” She shuffled towards Bellatrix, and threw her head against her chest. Unresponsive, Bellatrix remained still, statue-like. She was completely unmoved by Hermione’s actions. “All I want is to have my mum and dad back, and for you to love me. That’s all. I know I can never bring back to life my friends who died, and I know I can’t change the way people feel about us, but I just want those two simple things. I miss them so much, Bella. And I hate you closing off from me, or thinking that I have feelings for Ron, because in case you didn’t notice I destroyed the platonic friendship we had by rejecting him for you.”
 
Bellatrix breathed deeply. She growled, “I abhor him. You’re mine.”
 
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, feeling tears fall against Bella’s bare skin as they ran off her face. “I’m yours.”
 
“Prove it,” Bellatrix demanded, cupping Hermione’s face in her hands. “Make the Unbreakable Vow...”
 
“Wh-what?” Hermione stuttered, pulling back. Surely she had misunderstood?
 
“Promise that you will never kiss Weasley again,” Bellatrix ordered. “That you will never allow him to touch you, and that you will always be mine.”
 
Hermione bit her lip. How could she promise such things? An Unbreakable Vow could not be broken without resulting in her death. She didn’t desire Ron in the slightest, and she was ok with Bellatrix stating that she belonged to her because it made her feel just that little bit more secure. All this and more was true, but how could she make such a bond when things changed? Life progressed. People moved on. Maybe she would always love Bellatrix, but she couldn’t account for every eventuality in the future; she was nothing if not logical. Putting it into a vow that couldn’t be broken no matter what the circumstances was nothing if not suicidal. If Bellatrix hated her for saying no then she was extremely sorry, but she refused to make such a vow.
 
“I can’t,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m sorry because I can promise you all of that, but putting it into a vow I am not prepared to do.”
 
“If you really mean what you say, then you’ll do it,” Bellatrix said stubbornly.
 
“I do mean it,” Hermione promised, and she pressed her own wet cheek against Bellatrix’s dry one. “But I can’t make the vow... what if something accidental happens?”
 
“How exactly would your tongue accidentally end up in Weasley’s mouth?” Bellatrix spat into her ear, causing Hermione to flinch.
 
Swallowing, Hermione shook her head. “No... that wouldn’t happen. But what if someone at Hogwarts thinks it’s funny to give me a love potion that makes me want to kiss Ron and I do uncontrollably? Or in the heat of the moment when we’re arguing, I state that I don’t belong to you? Or Ron tries to touch me without me wanting him to? Do you know what that means? I die.”
 
Comprehension dawned on Bellatrix’s face. “Oh.”
 
“Yes, oh,” Hermione repeated. “Do you want to risk my death?” she asked, her voice quivering as she dreaded even asking the question.
 
“You know that’s not what I want!” Bellatrix denied vehemently.
 
“Then don’t ask me to do such a thing,” Hermione said. “Trust me when I say that I mean it. I love you. Don’t you remember what we read about Semper Amor? ‘There is no desire whatsoever for the lovers of Semper Amor to attempt relations or affairs with any other, thereby ensuring complete emotional faithfulness.’ And I have no physical desire to go near him either, so please, don’t worry.”
 
Some of the fire in Bellatrix’s eyes died, and she looked almost placated. “I will never let you leave me, so you’d better tell Weasley that.”
 
“I have,” Hermione said, because how much clearer could she be to Ron?
 
“No,” Bellatrix said, no longer shaking. She rested a hand against Hermione’s face, and at that very moment, Hermione knew she was starting to come around. “You write him a letter explaining your feelings, and that if he ever comes near you, he will have me and Cruciatus to answer to.”
 
“Fine,” Hermione said, at that point willing to agree to anything to make Bellatrix calm. She would have to rephrase the request so that it didn’t sound quite as threatening, but she would do what she had to do to keep Bellatrix.
 
“As for the matter of your parents,” Bellatrix continued, changing the topic suddenly. “It seems we will have to find them. I’m sure it’ll be possible, there are many ways of tracing people. Not to mention that your parents are Muggles... which means that they won’t have covered their tracks very well. The methods you employed to hide them can be the very same methods used to find them.”
 
“Do you really think so?” Hermione asked, disbelieving that Bellatrix meant what she said and that she had so easily changed the subject willingly.
 
“Yes,” Bellatrix said vehemently.
 
“Wh-why would you help me after what you’ve just found out?” Hermione asked timidly, voice quivering. It wasn’t that she intended to refuse the idea, but she just couldn’t believe that Bellatrix would offer such a thing out of the blue with no prompting whatsoever. “Aren’t you angry?”
 
“I’m fucking furious,” Bellatrix snapped. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to see you miserable.”
 
“You... you just said you want to keep me here to suffer,” Hermione said, reminded Bellatrix of the words she spoke less than five minutes ago.
 
Bellatrix sighed. “I didn’t mean it. Well, I did, but I think I’ve made you suffer enough lately. I can’t tell you that this isn’t an issue for me, but lashing out at you won’t change the past. I see that now. There was a time when I would have dealt with this by torturing you, but you have my word that I won’t do that today. I think that the Sedonus potion I have been taking is starting to help me control my affinity for causing pain.” Lightly, Bellatrix kissed the top of Hermione’s head.
 
That was all the proof that Hermione needed, and she was almost certain she was going to be forgiven at some point. It had been debatable for a brief moment whether Bellatrix was going to hurt her, but for the first time she had successfully managed to control herself. It was entirely bewildering to Hermione, but the fact she didn’t succumb to her anger helped Hermione to feel better about the whole situation, even if she did have several knots churning in her stomach.
Calmer, Hermione relaxed in Bellatrix’s arms, almost certain that the arguing was now over. She supposed the good thing about the intense fights they had was that they didn’t tend to drag on for days or weeks on end, not like her arguments with Ron always had. She dreaded sending the letter that Bellatrix wanted her to send to her former friend considering it would probably make him hate her even more, but seeing as they weren’t even civil at present anyway it wasn’t exactly going to be a great loss to her. Maybe it would make things more difficult in the long run, especially considering her friendship with Harry, but there was nothing about her life that was simple anymore. It was all part of growing up, and all she had to remember was that she wasn’t alone. No matter what, Bellatrix was here to stay. The thought should have scared her, and once upon a time it would have unequivocally terrified her, but now it just made her feel optimistic, despite the overshadowing aches of her parents.
 
At least I’m not alone. Not completely.
 
**
 

Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 
(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19),   (20),   (21),   (22),   (23),   (24),   (25),   (26) 
 
**
                                                                                            I'm free to say whatever I
                                                                                                    Whatever I like
                                                                                            If it’s wrong or right it’s alright
                                                                                                                                                                                                    Oasis, Whatever
 
**
27.
 
After a short nap and taking some time to write a reply to Harry’s letter, Hermione was refreshed enough to go to Diagon Alley. She approached Bellatrix with a tentative smile, and was relieved when Bellatrix didn’t mention the argument between them or the article either, instead announcing straight away that they should Floo to Diagon Alley. Surprisingly, it seemed that the older witch had taken the article fairly well in the grand scheme of things; apparently the fight they had gotten into had reminded her of where her priorities should lie. It was still likely that Bellatrix would be extremely angry if confronted by another witch or wizard, but with some luck she would be able to stop herself from doing physical harm to people if Hermione was there to keep her calm. Of course, there was always the possibility that then she would turn on Hermione, but after what had already happened between them that very day, Hermione doubted it very much.
 
The visit to Gringotts proceeded fairly smoothly, and if the goblins remembered Hermione posing as Bellatrix and breaking into their beloved bank, they didn’t try to apprehend her or comment on the fact that she was accompanied by the real Bellatrix. Hermione supposed that the Ministry must have stepped in and told them that it was unnecessary, because despite every illegal act she had committed over the past year along with Harry and Ron, she hadn’t been questioned about anything. Being one third of the trip responsible for the demise of Voldemort had its’ benefits, no doubt, although Hermione also imagined that it was due to the fact that as Minister for Magic, Kingsley was fair and just. After all, hadn’t Bellatrix’s freedom happened because of his own proposal to the Ministry?
 
Unfortunately, their luck didn’t last long, for the second they stepped out of Gringotts and into the street, Hermione came face to face with Hagrid. She’d barely seen him this past year, and had only caught fleeting glances of him during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he still looked the same as always. Despite the look of thunder on his face as he caught sight of Bellatrix, Hermione happily greeted him, hoping to keep things as friendly as possible. “Hagrid! It’s so good to see you.”
 
Hermione wasn’t stupid; it was obvious that Hagrid realised that she was in a relationship with Bellatrix. After the Daily Prophet had printed a story stating they were together, there was no way they could hide it from anyone unless they were a complete recluse! Her best hope was that people would still see her as the Hermione they knew; if she had changed at all then it was because of the war and her experiences, not because Bellatrix had asked her to. All she could do was to act as normally as possible and hope for the best. With a bit of luck, Hagrid wouldn’t even comment on it. Yeah, right.
 
“You too, Hermione,” Hagrid said gruffly, and though he was a little standoffish, he didn’t appear to be angry with her. “Wish the same could be said fer you, Lestrange.”
 
“Call me Black,” Bellatrix snapped, correcting him. “Or Bellatrix. Or anything except Lestrange.”
 
“I’ll call yeh whatever I ruddy well feel like!” Hagrid exclaimed.
 
“Or Madam Black,” Bellatrix suggested, ignoring Hagrid. She gestured towards Hermione, smirking. “And then she can be Madam Black’s bitch. What do you think, hmm?”
 
Wrong move, Hermione thought, as Hagrid exploded. He looked fierce as he roared, “I don’t know what yer playin’ at, but if yeh dare do anything to Hermione I’ll kill yeh meself! She’s just a girl!”
 
Hermione got the impression that Hagrid thought she was being forced into a relationship with Bellatrix against her will. The main reason she suspected this was because he appeared to bear no animosity towards her and instead threw all of his fury at Bellatrix. She supposed that from an outsider’s perspective it was a reasonable assumption to make, not least because of her age. Although she was an adult in both the wizarding world and the Muggle world, people would still judge the age gap between herself and Bellatrix. Hermione understood entirely, because had it been Ron or Harry in love with Bellatrix instead of herself, she probably would have been horrified beyond belief.
 
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, looking bored. “You’ll have to join the queue... there are already several people who are in line before you.”
 
“Bellatrix,” Hermione said in a low voice, warningly. She really didn’t want to be the centre of a huge drama in the middle of Diagon Alley if an all-out argument started between Bellatrix and Hagrid. Turning her attention back to Hagrid, she said, “Are you doing anything nice before term starts again?”
 
“Spending time with Olympe,” Hagrid replied, his eyes still fixed on Bellatrix, and his giant hands clenching at his sides in an obvious attempt to keep calm. “Are yeh coming back to Hogwarts then?”
 
Hermione nodded, ignored the surprised look from Bellatrix. Thankfully, the older witch kept her mouth shut, evidently realising that now wasn’t the time or the place to call her on it.
 
“Glad to hear it,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “Yer welcome to pop over ‘fore term starts... though I’ll be busy makin’ a lot o’ repairs after the state the Death Eaters left it in. Least it didn’t get burnt ‘gen I s’pose.” He shot Bellatrix a nasty look as he said this, referring to the night of Dumbledore’s death when she had set fire to his hut whilst his dog, Fang, was still inside.
 
However, Bellatrix appeared to be entirely unfazed by Hagrid’s words. Grinning, she said, “Ah, that’s all water under the bridge now, Hagrid!”
 
“No it ruddy well isn’t!” Hagrid said indignantly, his round face turning from a shade of red to purple fury. “Yeh nearly killed Fang, yeh evil woman!”
 
Considering this accusation, Bellatrix gave what she evidently imagined to be a justified and kind response, as she said casually, “Well, he didn’t actually die, did he? So that’s all alright.”
 
“Bellatrix!” Hermione said, horrified.
 
Shrugging, Bellatrix cast another look towards Hermione. “It’s the truth.”
 
“We’d better go, Hagrid,” Hermione said nervously, because Hagrid was clutching the pink umbrella containing pieces of his snapped wand in his hand angrily, looking as though he was about to attack. Judging by the way he was shaking and his lack of speech, he was more enraged than he had been at the start of their conversation. “I’ll see you soon.”
 
Grabbing onto Bellatrix, Hermione pulled her away before Hagrid could form a reply. She kept her mouth shut as she didn’t want to provoke Bellatrix’s wrath in public, not knowing if any reporters were lurking around or secretly following them. Eventually, the drama would die down, but for the moment it was something she would have to be prepared for just in case. Now that Diagon Alley was safe once again, it was far more packed, and so many people stared at herself and Bellatrix, hardly able to believe their eyes judging by the fear and horror displayed on their faces.
 
“I don’t know what they’re staring at,” Bellatrix said, irritated. “I’m sure they’re doing it just to try and force me into cursing them.”
 
“Well don’t give them the satisfaction then,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. Keep her calm, keep her calm...
 
“Easy for you to say,” Bellatrix muttered. “Come, I want to finish shopping and leave immediately.”
 
“What broomstick are you getting?” Hermione asked. She didn’t care, but she was trying to distract Bellatrix from the staring, not wanting to see her lover unleash her fury. An attempt at light-hearted conversation was all she could think to do considering that they were surrounded by too many people for other more effective means of keeping Bellatrix in a good mood. Hermione would have tried whispering flirtatious promises of what was to come later for Bellatrix if she behaved herself, but she had visions of Bellatrix attempting to act them out in public. Whilst Hermione acknowledged that it was possible for Bellatrix to be too much of a proud pure-blood to show affection for a Muggle-born in public, it was still a risk that she wasn’t willing to take. The last thing she needed was for a photograph of Bellatrix attempting to tongue her to end up on the front of the Daily Prophet.
 
“The latest Firebolt model,” Bellatrix replied, still throwing filthy looks at anyone who dared to look at her in the wrong way, whether through fear or disgust.
 
“Isn’t that expensive?” Hermione commented. She struggled to see why Bellatrix would need a broom of such a high quality when she didn’t even like to play Quidditch.
 
Bellatrix shrugged. “I can afford it, and it’s what I want.”
 
Assuming that it was just another of Bellatrix’s peculiar decisions, Hermione didn’t attempt to question her again. Instead, she allowed Bellatrix to lead the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, following quickly as she wanted to get home as soon as possible. She agreed with Bellatrix in that she didn’t want to spend long in Diagon Alley, knowing that the more time they were in public, the more chance there was of someone else confronting them. The day hadn’t exactly been great for Hermione ever since she had opened that bloody letter from Harry, and so she had no desire to face the wrath of other wizards and witches who would make the day even worse.
 
Bellatrix didn’t bother to look around; she merely sauntered up to the counter and requested the latest Firebolt. Bored, Hermione began looking at all the Quidditch related books in the store in an attempt to keep herself amused. Flying was something she really didn’t enjoy, and although she wasn’t the appalling flyer that she was during her first year at Hogwarts, she wasn’t anywhere near good either. It didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, and so whenever Ron and Harry were raving about how amazing flying was, Hermione usually switched off and read a book instead. The boys thought she was mad for choosing books over flying and Quidditch, but being a bookworm was something she did perfectly well, thank you very much.
 
Mercifully, Bellatrix didn’t face any awkwardness from the small, blonde girl who served her, as judging by the look on her face, she was far too terrified to say anything at all. Attempting to reassure her, Hermione smiled at her when Bellatrix wasn’t looking, if only to make her feel a little better. Hermione fully understood why people reacted the way they did towards Bellatrix considering her reputation, and the newspaper article certainly hadn’t helped. The Daily Prophet article had done some good by claiming that Bellatrix was now considered innocent of the crimes she had long been accused of, but not everyone was suddenly going to believe it after so many years had passed.
 
The next stop was Eeylop’s Owl Emporium so that Bellatrix could buy herself an owl. After much consideration, she eventually settled on a large, black-as-the-night-sky owl with a curved, sharp beak. Her eyes were a bright amber, mesmerising in an inexplicable way, which because obvious the moment Hermione made eye contact with her. There was no doubt that she was a beautiful owl, standing proudly on her perch, and looking calmly at Bellatrix and Hermione.
 
“I want that one,” Bellatrix announced to the young boy behind the counter, as Hermione gathered everything she needed to care for Crookshanks once she had picked him up from the Weasleys, like blankets, toys and treats. “And whatever supplies are necessary to look after her.”
 
Averting his eyes, the young boy set about preparing the owl, not daring to look Bellatrix’s way. He didn’t even ask whether she had owned an owl before, if she knew how to look after them, or make any attempt to try and engage in friendly conversation with her. Amazingly, he seemed even more frightened than the girl from Quality Quidditch Supplies had been, judging by his shaking hand.
 
Taking pity on him and seeing an opportunity to do something nice for Bellatrix at the same time, Hermione placed her own shopping on the counter, and whispered to Bellatrix out of the shop assistant’s earshot, “Why don’t you take her outside, and I’ll pay?”
 
Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest, “But...”
 
“Go,” Hermione said firmly, praying that Bellatrix didn’t take this the wrong way. “I want to buy her for you. Why don’t you take her outside and try to think of a name whilst I finish here?” It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it, after all. Her own vault at Gringotts was pretty full considering how little money she had spent over the past year, and the prior generosity of her parents.
 
Speechless, Bellatrix left, staring at Hermione in wonderment and barely paying any attention to the owl in the cage that she held. It was obvious to Hermione that she didn’t know how to say thank you for a gift, so unfamiliar was she with being given anything.
 
“How much is that?” Hermione asked, smiling at the boy behind the counter.
 
For several seconds he stared at her, his blue eyes fixated on her own. His expression looked calmer than before, though his hand still shook, Hermione noted, as he ran a hand through the blonde curls on his head. “How can you bear to be anywhere near her?” he asked, ignoring Hermione’s question.
 
“I... what?” Hermione replied frowning.
 
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” He spat. “She’s tortured countless Muggles and Muggle-borns. What makes you think she’s changed?”
 
“I’m a Muggle-born, and she doesn’t torture me,” Hermione justified in a quiet voice, choosing to ignore the memories of when Bellatrix had done exactly that to her. “I know she’s done horrible things, but everyone deserves a second chance.”
 
“I think you’re insane for trusting her!” the boy exclaimed. “You should be sticking by the rest of us Muggle-borns, not siding with a maniac.”
 
Realising that trying to convince him would be futile, Hermione said as politely as possible, “I would like to pay now.”
 
After paying, she left the shop in a hurry, grateful that the blonde boy did not continue to verbally abuse Bellatrix to her, and instead completed the transaction in silence. Regardless of how upset she felt, she vowed not to tell Bellatrix of the exchange, knowing that she would be so angry she may even seek him out to confront him herself. In turn, that would only make people distrust her even more when they found out that she had argued with or perhaps even cursed a Muggle-born. Instead, Hermione tried to put it out of her mind, telling herself that as time went on, Bellatrix would be accepted once more. If she could control herself, show others she wasn’t a threat and was remorseful for her actions (even if she wasn’t) then people would stop staring and judging her every time they set eyes on her. Some would still be likely to talk behind closed doors , but as neither Bellatrix or herself would have to deal with that, it wasn’t something Hermione wasn’t overly concerned about.
 
Arriving back at Bellatrix’s by Floo, Hermione walked down the hallway with Bellatrix after leaving the library. Technically they could have used the Floo Network to travel directly to the sitting room, as Bellatrix had informed her that the fireplace in the sitting room was also connected to the network. However, she had also added that for inexplicable reasons her parents had always preferred to use the fireplace in the library, and Bellatrix had always done the same, not finding it to be a problem. The only time the sitting room fireplace was used was if a stranger or acquaintance requested a visit, and were not permitted to enter through the upstairs library. Another odd Black family rule.
 
On the way to the sitting room after dropping off the owl in one of the upstairs tower rooms, Hermione glanced at the familiar portraits which were still unmoving. Curiosity peaked once more, and she took the opportunity to ask Bellatrix about them whilst she remembered. “Why don’t any of the portraits move?”
 
Bellatrix made a face. “I took down the portraits of my mother, father, and various other ancestors after they overheard our discussion in the hallway a few months ago after you came back to visit.”
 
“Why?” Hermione asked, though she already had an inkling as to the reasoning for this.
 
“Well as you can imagine, they objected to our relationship. I got fed up of them yelling abuse at me every time I went past them,” Bellatrix said, sounding thoroughly irritated.
 
Worried that Bellatrix was going to take out her frustration on her, Hermione kept quiet. She could only imagine the sort of things that Bellatrix’s parents had yelled; she remembered all too well the offensive names that Sirius’s mother had screeched every opportunity she got. At least Bellatrix had been able to remove her parents’ portraits from the wall; evidently they had trusted their daughters and had felt there was no need for a Permanent Sticking Charm.
 
There was much about the house that Hermione disliked, mainly the dark objects and lack of bright, vivid colours. Although it was nowhere near as dark as Malfoy Manor, there was still something cold about the house that Hermione wanted to change. Over time she was certain that she would be able to ask Bellatrix to move a few things around and change the wallpaper or floors, but there was absolutely no way after such a short space of time living with her unofficially that she could do such a thing. Besides, it wasn’t her place to say anything, and she supposed there were more important things to be worrying about.
 
“You know, I should probably blast myself off the tapestry at Grimmauld Place... it’s the first thing my Aunt Walburga would have done,” Bellatrix said as she entered the sitting room, Hermione trailing behind her. “I certainly wouldn’t be considered a member of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in her eyes any longer.”
 
Still, Hermione didn’t say anything. She got the impression that although Bellatrix was entitled to talk about her family in a derogatory way, there was little chance of herself being afforded the same privilege. There was no real reason for her to think that, but it was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take. Instead, she took a seat next to the older witch, leaning back and resting her head, waiting for Bellatrix to begin talking about something else.
 
However, it appeared Bellatrix was aware that Hermione was less vocal than usual, for she asked her, “What is the matter?”
 
“Nothing,” Hermione denied, smiling awkwardly.
 
“You’re being unusually quiet,” Bellatrix observed. “Have I done something else to upset you?”
 
Hermione shook her head.
 
“Is it because I didn’t say thank you for the owl? Because I am happy you bought me it, I was just so surprised I didn’t think to thank you at the time,” Bellatrix said, giving an unneeded explanation after completely misinterpreting Hermione’s silence.
 
“It’s nothing to do with you not thanking me for the owl; I didn’t expect you to,” Hermione answered truthfully. As it appeared that Bellatrix had no intention of letting the subject go, Hermione decided to do what she did best and be tactfully honest. “I don’t want to comment on your family, because I know that if I say anything inappropriate you’re going to be angry with me.”
 
“I don’t see what your problem is with my family,” Bellatrix said, surprisingly calm.
 
Despite Bellatrix’s rational response, Hermione still sensed the potential for this to turn into another fight, and so she racked her brains for a way to diffuse the situation before it ever really got started. It was extremely unlikely that Bellatrix would inflict violence upon her so soon after what she had promised today, but the problem with people like Bellatrix was that there was always a small possibility. For Bellatrix it was a case of “Oops, sorry dearie, didn’t mean that!” as more often than not she just couldn’t comprehend the consequences of her violent behaviour. Nevertheless, if Hermione continued to be unresponsive then Bellatrix would only keep pushing until her temper flared anyway, and so it was tough to know what to do for the best.
 
“There is no problem,” Hermione clarified. “I didn’t know them, but what I do know is what they believed in, and what they taught you, Narcissa and Andromeda to believe.”
 
There. That was as much as she was going to reveal. She had put it in such a way so as to express subtle concern for the views that had been thrust upon Bellatrix ever since she was a little girl, knowing enough from off-hand remarks Bellatrix had made, and information from Sirius to comprehend the type of family the Blacks had been. Their hatred of Muggle-borns had contributed to the sort of witches and wizards that Voldemort had preyed on; those who were proud, arrogant and full of their own self-importance. In short, individuals like Bellatrix, who had been so brainwashed that they didn’t stand a chance. Somehow, Andromeda and Sirius had managed to escape it, but Hermione couldn’t help considering that it was a combination of rebellion and personality traits that had allowed them to do this. Judging by Bellatrix’s obsessive need for control, power, but also respect, it was impossible for her to be anything except what she had been moulded into. Of course, her childhood couldn’t be entirely blamed for some of the fault was her own, but that didn’t make her unworthy of a chance to change.
 
Bellatrix leant towards her, raven curls falling around her face. “Finding fault with my upbringing would be easy, but I won’t. You need to understand that serving the Dark Lord was exhilarating. It made me feel like my life had meaning; I wasn’t just another house-witch, but a Death Eater. I had a purpose. I changed things!”
 
“You also hurt innocent people,” Hermione reminded her. “Don’t you see, Bellatrix? If you had done what Andromeda had the courage to do and walked away from your family, you could have had everything by now; love, a career, friends and respect. Not from pure-bloods, but from every person that you could have helped in whatever way you chose to do so.”
 
“That’s what you don’t see,” Bellatrix said adamantly. “I believed in the cause. Even now, despite our connection... I still struggle. Were Semper Amor not involved then I never would have acted upon my feelings; it was utter selfishness that led me to betray the Dark Lord.”
 
Hermione wasn’t quite sure how they had gone from talking about portraits to discussing Bellatrix’s life and feelings for her. It hurt Hermione to know that Bellatrix would never have been able to openly love her without the ancient love between them. She appreciated Bellatrix’s honesty, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear her confession. Although Hermione possessed enough common sense to allow her to grasp the impact that Semper Amor had on her situation, she had always hoped that Bellatrix would have loved her anyway. It was a silly, ridiculous notion, but all Hermione had wanted since she accepted her feelings for Bellatrix was for the older witch to willingly love her back. Overwhelmed with the realisation that this wasn’t the case, she couldn’t stand to be around Bellatrix right now. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.
 
“I appreciate your honesty,” Hermione said, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched, even to her own ears. “I’m uh... not feeling too well. I’m going to lie down again.”
 
“Hermione,” Bellatrix began. “It’s not that I don’t want-”
 
“Don’t,” Hermione interrupted. “Please, Bella. I just need to lie down.”
 
She left quickly before Bellatrix could try and engage her in conversation once more. Maybe it had been immature of her to walk away from a difficult conversation, but she was upset, and also a little worried. There was no guarantee that should Bellatrix build a life for herself that she would stick around to be with Hermione. If she so wished, she could use Hermione to improve her reputation (a fanatical pure-blooded Death Eater in a relationship with a female Muggle-born would do wonders in the long run) and then leave, deciding to tolerate the consequences of Semper Amor.
 
If Hermione had been a stronger person then she would have walked away before the going got tough, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive without Bellatrix. There would never be another who she felt the same way about and who drew the same reactions from her as Bellatrix did. It was so sodding unfair, because she had always wanted the fairytale wedding and a couple of children, alongside some sort of career where she was able to help people. Instead she had been granted Bellatrix, a completely insane supporter of the Dark Arts and Mudblood hater. That alone was undeserved, but the added inability to ever love anyone else in the way she loved Bellatrix just topped it off. Brilliant.
 
The despair that Hermione currently felt meant that more than ever she really missed her friends. She wanted Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and Dobby back. Sirius too. So many had suffered and died for everything Bellatrix believed in, took pleasure in, and it was only really hitting her this very moment. Until now she hadn’t really grieved for anyone, hiding away her feelings during every funeral she’d attended because that was what was easier. Living with Bellatrix had meant she couldn’t even come home to grieve, and then she hadn’t really been able to disappear elsewhere because there was nowhere else to go. Her parent’s home was empty and lonely, and it was debateable whether any of her friends would accept her into their home. Besides, it had been an unspoken agreement that she would remain with Bellatrix, the terms of Semper Amor dictating that they should be together whenever possible.
 
Shutting herself away in the bedroom for the second time that day, Hermione snuggled beneath the sheets to sob quietly.
 
This time, Bellatrix didn’t come for her.
 
**
January 1959
 
Bellatrix was extremely bored. Her younger sisters were absolutely no fun to play with at all! Narcissa just followed her constantly whining, and Andromeda was more interested in playing with her Wizadoll than she was at actually playing games with Bellatrix, even if she was her cool older sister. Therefore, Bellatrix decided that she was going to on a mission to explore the vast rooms of the house whilst her parents were up in the library, and she wandered into the dining room, immediately setting eyes on the candles that lay on the mahogany table.
 
She ran over to them, wondering if she could set them alight the way that Andromeda had done when she’d become angry whilst they’d all been sat at the table eating dinner. Bellatrix had pulled her hair, and when Andromeda stuck her tongue out in retaliation, she’d been caught by their father who had been most displeased. Her younger sister had been so furious that she had caused the candles to roar to life without meaning to, and had ended up being punished and sent to bed early for being so naughty.
 
Moving the candles over towards the end of the table, Bellatrix stared at them, willing them to set on fire. Nothing. She tried poking them with her hand. Nothing. Eventually, she was so frustrated that she swung around, spinning in a circle, chanting under her breath “Fire fire fire fire fire” for she didn’t know the spell to make them alight, and besides, she didn’t yet have a wand. All she had to rely on was her uncontrollable magic, and that really was the crux of the matter. This wasn’t something she could control.
 
Unfortunately, so intent was she on spinning around that she failed to notice herself getting closer to the candles, meaning that the first she was aware of them having fallen was when she heard the resultant crash. Stopping herself, she looked down in horror, dismayed to see that one of the sticks had broken clean in half. What was she supposed to do now? If she was quick enough then she could always summon Lazar, the house-elf, and leave him to deal with it.
 
“Bellatrix, what are you doing?”
 
Too late.
 
Hearing her father’s harsh voice, Bellatrix automatically took a step backwards, biting her lip nervously. “Nothing.”
 
“Nothing?” Cygnus said, sounding angrier by the minute. “What have you done to the candles?”
 
“It was an accident,” Bellatrix said, trying her best to sound sorry. “I didn’t mean to.”
 
Her protests did no good, and she felt her father grip onto her arm, and throw her up against the wall. She whimpered as her head cracked against the panelling, and she squeezed her eyes shut, seeing stars. Maybe if she kept them shut her father would go away, and she wouldn’t have to look at his bulging eyes, the angry patches on his cheeks anymore. Maybe maybe maybe.
 
“Stupid girl!” he snarled.
 
Even when he smacked her across the face, she knew that she couldn’t make a sound, because then he would be even more furious with her. No, if she just stayed quiet then he would tell her to clean up the mess without magic just like a filthy Muggle, and leave her to it. That would be ok then, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t have to worry about any more repercussions. It had only been an accident, and hopefully she wouldn’t be punished too badly. Not like the time she’d broken the heel of her mother’s brand new red, dragon skin boots trying them on, and hadn’t been able to do anything but shuffle in agony for a week after her father had sliced the bottoms of toes in retaliation.
 
“Clean that up,” he ordered over his shoulder as he left the room. “And ask Lazar to fetch us some new ones.”
 
Bellatrix did as she was told, scooping the candles into her arms to give to Lazar to dispose of. On her way down to the kitchen, she could hardly believe her eyes when the candles ignited in her arms; even the broken one. Amazed, she stood still, watching the flames flicker and feeling the heat on her arms. She had done it.
 
In that moment, Bellatrix came to the conclusion that to gain, there usually had to be pain as well.
 
**
 
“Hermione?”
 
Groggily, Hermione opened her eyes. She was vaguely aware of Bellatrix calling her, waking her from the deep sleep she had managed to fall into. Apparently, despite her upset she had still managed to rest without even being aware of herself falling into a slumber. It was amazing when you considered how little she had been doing every day; the most taxing thing she had done lately was to read complex books on the Dark Arts, intrigued by the sorts of material that Bellatrix had grown up surrounded by. Sometimes she missed the constant structure that her days had and the way that she could be in a routine, for she had no real responsibilities at present. Although she knew she should be enjoying herself after her life had almost been destroyed by Voldemort, it was hard when there was so much still hurting her. My murdered loved ones. Ron. Mum and Dad. Need you all back.
 
“Are you awake?”
 
“Yes,” Hermione said, blinking to get used to the light. It didn’t seem too bright, however, which made her wonder what the time was. How long had she even been asleep? Glancing at her watch, she was horrified to see that it was seven o’clock in the evening. Hermione guessed that she had been upstairs for around four hours, probably sleeping for most of that time.
 
“Are you ready to talk now?” Bellatrix asked tentatively.
 
Hermione remained facing the opposite direction, not wanting to look at her lover. Every single time she faced Bellatrix’s dark dark eyes, it seemed so much worse when she heard hurtful words. Somehow, she felt like a lesser human being. “No,” she whispered.
 
“You need to talk to me eventually,” Bellatrix said reasonably. “We are currently living in the same house, after all.”
 
Hermione swallowed, ignoring the lump in her throat. “Not for much longer... I’ll be going back to Hogwarts soon.”
 
There was a silence so unbearable that Hermione wondered what Bellatrix thought of this statement. She had brought up the topic of Hogwarts to Hagrid in front of Bellatrix earlier, but she supposed that Bellatrix had forgotten considering everything else going on, or had not even taken her seriously in the first place. From her own perspective, she wanted to finish her N.E.W.T.s so that she could say she had graduated Hogwarts, and to improve her career prospects. It was even more important to her as a Muggle-born to prove that she had achieved something and that she was just as capable of performing magic than any pure-blood, possibly even more talented.
 
When there was still no response from Bellatrix a couple of minutes later, and all she could hear was the sound of the raven haired witch breathing, Hermione finally turned to face her. Observing her lover, she could see that she was attempting to control her emotions, probably the rage and hatred for not having been consulted burning inside. Hermione allowed her eyes to fall down to Bellatrix’s heaving chest, and she tensed, worried that she was about to erupt.
 
Finally noticing that she was being watched, Bellatrix roughly choked out, “You can’t.” Unexpectedly, there was panic written all over her face.
 
“Yes I can, Bellatrix,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I want to do my exams and complete my education. Maybe you don’t think I’m worthy of that, but it isn’t your decision to make. I want to return to Hogwarts and I will. End of discussion.”
 
“I don’t want you to,” Bellatrix said, sounding different. Her voice was strangely nasally, and she didn’t sound vicious in the slightest. “I want you to remain here.”
 
Hermione shook her head. “No.”
 
“Please,” Bellatrix said, almost sounding as though she was begging now.
 
Bewildered, Hermione stared, trying to work out what was going on. After further observation and considering the way Bellatrix had been talking to her, it really didn’t seem as though she was angry. Was she upset? Hermione hadn’t thought it possible for Bellatrix to feel such an emotion. There were no tears, but Bellatrix had balled her hands into a fist shape, and was biting down on her lower lip, as though she was in a battle with herself over whether to say something or not.
 
Despite the treatment she had received from Bellatrix, Hermione felt herself crumbling. She wasn’t going to give in to Bellatrix’s demand, but she wasn’t going to just sit and watch her suffer like this either. It was evident that whereas most people would just express their emotions or go off on their own to deal with them, Bellatrix was incapable of doing that. The only real emotion she was able to show was anger, explaining why she often went off the handle for little to no reason at all. Hermione had to simultaneously be strong enough to deal with that and also to show her the sympathy and love she deserved.
 
“I won’t change my mind, Bella. My education is very important for my future, and I need the best N.E.W.T results possible in order to enter the profession of my choice,” Hermione explained, and she was overjoyed to discover that when she shuffled closer to Bellatrix and placed a hand on her arm that she wasn’t pushed away.
 
“If you go back, we may as well be over,” Bellatrix said, sounding morose, her bottom lip trembling.
 
Hermione frowned. “How do you work that one out?”
 
Bellatrix locked eyes with Hermione, her darker brown orbs lazering straight into Hermione’s lighter brown eyes. “I will only see you during holidays, meaning that the time in between will be unbearable. As you reminded me earlier, I have no career, respect or companionship. No purpose in life. What am I going to do?”
 
Sighing, Hermione leant forward, and gently placed a chaste kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth. “You are going to write to me, speak to me through Floo Powder, meet me for Hogsmeade weekends. You’re going to see your sisters, meet Teddy for the first time... you’re going to be attending your Soul Healer appointments. You have more than enough to be doing, Bella. I promise; you’ll be fine without me.”
 
“I gave up the Dark Lord for you; why can’t you do this one thing for me?” Bellatrix said, and Hermione realised that she had selfishly been keeping this to herself to play as a trump card, expecting it to be the one reason she provided that Hermione had no answer for. No doubt she imagined that she could manipulate her into doing what she wanted if she tried hard enough, thinking that she was the smarter witch and therefore able to convince Hermione to do whatever she wanted.
 
She was sorely mistaken, because Hermione already had an answer prepared for her.
 
“Because you tortured me, Bellatrix, and hurt a lot of people. I won’t give up my education for you, and you shouldn’t ask me to,” Hermione told her.
 
“I’ll go crazy without you here,” Bellatrix declared desperately winding her thumb around her raven curls, pulling on them madly.
 
“You’re already crazy,” Hermione said, attempting a joke. It fell flat as Bellatrix just stared at her blankly, now looking even more upset. Trying to cheer her up, Hermione suggested, “We can sneak you in and then sometimes I can sneak back here. I’m not a fan of rule breaking but if it makes you happier...?”
 
This seemed to perk Bellatrix up a little. “Every week?”
 
Hermione smiled. “I think that might be too frequent. I’ll have to see what my timetable says and then get back to you. It’s only one year though, remember that. I’ll be back here before you know it.”
 
Bellatrix didn’t response, staying quiet. It was obvious she still wasn’t placated.
 
Clutching at straws, Hermione made another suggestion, “You can keep Crookshanks here too if you like.”
 
“What?” Bellatrix said. “Who’s Crookshanks?”
 
“He’s my cat that the Weasleys have been looking after for me. I have to pick him up soon and... well he’ll be company, won’t he?” Hermione said brightly. “I’ll miss him whilst I’m at Hogwarts but I’m used to not having him around considering that we’ve spent months apart. You can look after each other for me. I know you haven’t met him yet, but you’ll grow to love each other once you’ve spent time together, I promise.”
 
Bellatrix looked as if she seriously doubted Hermione’s offer, but made no attempt to protest. “I have no choice but to accept this, do I?” Bellatrix said. “Threatening you will just make you leave?”
 
Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
 
“Is that why you’ve been up here alone for hours on end? Because I make you feel threatened?” Bellatrix asked awkwardly, giving Hermione the impression that it wasn’t something she was particularly proud of.
 
“A little. But... I also wanted to be alone because it hurts that you don’t love me the way I am and that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t love me,” Hermione said sadly. “Not to mention that I miss my friends, and I wish that people I cared about hadn’t died. Everything just feels wrong.”
 
Bellatrix watched her for a moment or so, before she gestured for Hermione to move closer. Obliging, Hermione did so, resting her head against Bellatrix’s chest, as her lover propped herself up against the headboard. It was a rare moment of genuine affection on Bellatrix’s part, and it made tingles run up and down her spine as Bellatrix started to play with her hair aimlessly.
 
“I do love you the way you are,” Bellatrix confessed. “And it’s not so much that I wouldn’t love you if I had a choice. Not anymore. It’s more that I feel as though I shouldn’t be allowed to love you.”
 
“But you still do regardless?” Hermione checked softly.
 
“Always,” Bellatrix vowed. “As I’ve told you before... you’re not like the other Muggle-borns. You’re my little babe, and you’ll be mine forever.”
 
Hermione shut her eyes once more as Bellatrix wrapped an arm underneath her breasts, pulling their bodies together. As hard as it was, she forced herself to pretend that she believed Bellatrix’s words were honest, and that her love was unconditional. I love you too.
 
**
((CLICK HERE for part 28))
 

Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 

(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19),   (20),   (21),   (22),   (23),   (24),   (25)

 
**

Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 
 
(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19),   (20),   (21),   (22),   (23), (24)

**
 **
25.
 
A few days later and although Hermione was glad to be with Bellatrix, the reality of life after the war had set in. She had finally been forced to think about the deaths of her friends due to their funerals taking place, and so she supposed that the most accurate way of describing her current state was that she was in the midst of grieving. Unfortunately, any initial happiness or distraction Bellatrix had provided was no longer enough to sustain her entirely, or keep her mood upbeat.
 
She was doing all she could to act like her normal self, not wanting Bellatrix to realise there was something wrong. It was hard though; she had attended so many funerals in such a short space of time that it felt as though each ceremony melted into another, with no true distinction between them all. Due to the vast numbers that had been killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, the funerals had been spread out, none clashing with another to ensure that everyone had the opportunity to attend all the funerals they wished to. Hermione had gone to as many as humanely possible; Fred, Tonks, Lupin and Snape all top of the list, and of course, a small get together to say a proper goodbye to Dobby that they hadn’t had a chance to do before.
 
Bellatrix had refused to attend every funeral, and she didn’t even attempt to arrange one for Rodolphus. Hermione supposed that a funeral hadn’t even been held for him in the end considering that the only people who would ever given a damn about him were now dead as in the case of Rabastan Lestrange, or otherwise holed away in Azkaban. Surprisingly however, Bellatrix had shown her face at the site of Dobby’s burial after the goodbye itself had taken place. She had stood before the grave, nodding her head once and turning away; her own version of an apology and goodbye. For a moment it had been touch and go whether Ron was going to punch her, but Harry, for all the love he had held for the free elf who had saved their lives, at least had managed to keep a dignified silence. Hermione could read his face well enough to realise that he still detested Bellatrix, but the brotherly love he felt for her was evidently strong enough to prevent him from causing an unnecessary scene. Dumbledore’s proclamation that everyone deserves a second chance was something Harry had fully taken onboard; especially after all the times he wrongly doubted Snape, and so he more than others was willing to accept Bellatrix.
 
In addition to the stress of the funerals on her emotions, Hermione was now faced with the prospect of the first meeting between Bellatrix and Andromeda at Malfoy Manor after a letter to Bellatrix from Narcissa had arrived that morning, inviting them to attend. She could only hope that didn’t take place in the drawing room; the one area of the home that seriously unnerved her considering the torture she had suffered there. Despite Hermione’s dread, she and Bellatrix used the Floo Network to travel to Narcissa’s, whilst she tried not to think too hard about her experiences and attempted to keep a clear head. Before she knew it she arrived at the fireplace in Malfoy Manor, where Bellatrix paused, staring into thin air. Her hands were placed on her hips, emphasising her figure in the black corset dress that she wore, and she twirled her wand around in her hands.
 
“What is it?” Hermione asked patiently, forcing herself to focus on Bellatrix’s feelings rather than her own. “Are you nervous?”
 
“No!” Bellatrix snapped, obviously insulted at the suggestion. “I just... well I’m wondering if Andromeda is going to curse me.”
 
“She won’t,” Hermione promised, trying to keep it together as she didn’t want Bellatrix to know how apprehensive she felt herself about the upcoming reunion. “And if she does then don’t respond; let me handle it.”
 
“As much as I appreciate the gesture, sweetie, you’re eighteen years old. I can look after myself, as I’ve explained before,” Bellatrix said, raising her eyebrows.  
 
Despite the fact her reaction irritated Hermione, she decided that to argue the point would be futile. Instead, she simply rolled her eyes when Bellatrix wasn’t looking, and began to walk through the somewhat familiar corridor that she and Bellatrix had walked along last time to reach the sitting room, with Bellatrix alongside her. Unlike she had on the previous occasion, Bellatrix didn’t wrap an arm around Hermione, although she did casually place a hand against her rear as they walked together.
 
“Bella,” Hermione protested, worried that they would be seen by Narcissa, Draco, or even worse, Lucius, as they stumbled upon them in their family home. “Stop!” She grabbed hold of Bellatrix’s hand, and moved it away.
 
“You know,” Bellatrix whispered, clutching Hermione’s arm, “They might not even know we’re here yet. Why don’t we find a room and spend some time together, hmm?”
 
Hermione sighed, “We’ve spent time together on average for three hours every night and two hours every morning over the past few days. I don’t think it’s necessary for us to continue here.”
 
It seemed that ever since she had lost her virginity, Hermione had been feeling strangely open about sex. It helped her to forget about the sadness she held within and made it easier for her to pretend that everything was ok. It was amazing to think she had come so far in such a short space of time, but there was something about the older witch that drew her in even when she told herself that she’d had enough. Perhaps it was just because she was getting used to the new sensations within her body? Whatever the reason, it was definitely welcome. Judging by her responses, Bellatrix thought so too. Fortunately.
 
Bellatrix pouted. “It’ll be fun though.”
 
“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Let’s just do what we came here to do, and then when we get back you can do whatever you want.”
 
There was an evil glint in Bellatrix’s eye. “Anything?”
 
“Yes... no! I don’t know what you’re thinking, but no. It has to be within reason,” Hermione said firmly.
 
Flashing Hermione a grin, Bellatrix kissed her fervently on the mouth, unaware that Narcissa had just appeared alongside them, from a door to the left. The second that Hermione spotted the blonde woman, she pulled back from Bellatrix, conscious of Narcissa’s reaction. To give her credit, she hadn’t showed outrage as such, but she did wrinkle her nose at the scene before her. Hermione decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and to assume she just didn’t want to see her sister with her tongue in someone else’s mouth, as opposed to being disgusted at the fact it was a Muggle-born girl that she was kissing.
 
“You know, Cissy, it’s rude to stare,” Bellatrix said petulantly the moment she set eyes on Narcissa.
 
Whilst a comment such as this would have drawn a flustered expression from most people, Narcissa simple arched an eyebrow. “If we’re on the subject of rudeness, Bella, it’s entirely vulgar of you to display such behaviour in someone else’s home,” she responded, with an air of superiority.
 
Hermione could see that Bellatrix was about to reply with something even more offensive than had come from her mouth so far, and so she made the decision to step in before things got any worse. It wasn’t that she agreed with Narcissa, or even particularly liked her, but she had more chance of getting Bellatrix to listen to her than she did of persuading Narcissa. Unconcerned with the fact that Narcissa could see every move she made, she squeezed Bellatrix’s arm, and leant in towards her raven haired lover. “Be nice,” she whispered, so that only Bellatrix could hear her, though she kept her eyes trained on Narcissa. “Not only will it confuse her, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while later on.”
 
“And how do you propose to do that?” Bellatrix said in a low voice.
 
“I’m sure we can agree on something between us,” Hermione breathed into Bellatrix’s ear.
 
Bellatrix jerked her head to signal her agreement, and then turned to Narcissa. “Where am I going to be meeting with Andromeda?” she asked, perfectly polite.
 
 “The sitting room where I have already spoken with her,” Narcissa stated, and if she was confused by the sudden change in Bellatrix’s attitude, she didn’t let on. “Come.”
 
Obliging, Bellatrix and Hermione followed, and this time Bellatrix behaved and kept her hands to herself. Extremely grateful for this and feeling bold, Hermione reached an arm around Bellatrix hoping that Bellatrix would not reject her gesture. Although Bellatrix had been surprisingly generous when it came to initiating contact with her, when the situations were reversed it was still unknown territory for Hermione. It wasn’t just because of her nerves; she had enough courage flowing through her veins to combat that, but she always found herself weighting up the odds of Bellatrix accepting her touch. More often than not she was almost certain that Bellatrix would dislike the feeling as she considered that Hermione had too much control over her, but sometimes, like today, she sensed it would be ok.
 
Half-heartedly, Bellatrix rolled her eyes, but she didn’t push Hermione away, or give any other indication that she was unhappy. When Hermione shot her a small, apprehensive smile, she merely looked amused, and before Bellatrix could seem to think of a sarcastic comment to make, they had arrived outside the shut door of the sitting room. Here goes.
 
Narcissa paused before entering, and with her hand on the door handle, she looked over her shoulder at Bellatrix and Hermione and said calmly, “Andromeda first requested that she see you alone, Bellatrix, but after I informed her of your... friendship with Miss Granger, she asked that she accompany you.”
 
Bellatrix shrugged. “Whatever.” There was not an air of anxiety in her voice, or any sign that she was about to meet with the sister she had not seen for thirty years; if anything, she looked bored by the whole state of affairs.
 
As Narcissa stepped back to allow them entry, Bellatrix moved forward and wrenched the door open without hesitation. Trying to adopt the same stance as Bellatrix to hide her anxiety, Hermione followed her into the room, closing the door behind herself. She doubted very much that the Malfoy’s were the sort of people who would stand outside doors eavesdropping and so she didn’t bother to charm the room, not concerned that they would be overheard. Besides, even if anyone were to listen; did it really matter?
 
Setting eyes on Andromeda was entirely different to the first time that she had met Narcissa. The similarities between Bellatrix and Andromeda were far more obvious than those between Bellatrix and Narcissa, for varying reasons. Firstly, Andromeda had the same head of curls that Bellatrix did, except hers were lighter, fairer, and her eyes rounder and a softer brown. Not to mention that she was taller by several inches, and her curves weren’t quite as pronounced. There was a guarded expression on her face, and she did not smile at either Bellatrix or Hermione, offer her hand or even speak. Evidently, she was waiting for Bellatrix to make the first move.
 
“Andromeda,” Bellatrix pronounced slowly, watching her younger sister from across the room where she stood.
 
“Bellatrix,” Andromeda replied, fixing a steely gaze on her older sister.
 
Intrigued by the interaction between the two, Hermione’s eyes flitted from one to the other, wondering who would be the first to say something of any significance. At the moment it was a battle of wills, but there was no telling if Bellatrix would allow the anger she held inside to erupt at Andromeda as she made her views clear on what she thought of her long lost sister, or if she would restrain herself, realising that she probably only had one chance at this. Moreover, Andromeda had just as much right (more rights) to blow up at Bellatrix considering the fact she had committed many evil acts in the past, and so the tension radiating from her body language fizzed against Bellatrix’s as each painful second passed.
 
It was possible that they would avoid talking about any issues of significance, but Hermione doubted that it was in either of their natures to just sit in a room and avoid the obvious. From what she had so far learnt about the three Black sisters, that was more Narcissa’s style than her dark haired counterparts. Oh the wonders of denial.
 
“You must be Hermione,” Andromeda said slowly. Her face was slightly less impassive than Bellatrix’s, and as much as Hermione hated to admit it, somehow far more human too.
 
“Yes,” Hermione said, managing to smile. “It’s... it’s good to meet you.”
 
Although Hermione didn’t expect her to, Andromeda returned the smile. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you from...” she paused, and the smile disappeared from her face as she seemed to struggle to compose herself. “Well, from Nymphadora. She likes... liked you.”
 
“I liked her too,” Hermione said softly. “You’re probably fed up of hearing it by now, but I’m sorry for your loss. I would have told you at the service held for Tonks... I mean Nymphadora... but I didn’t want to intrude on your goodbye.”
 
“Thank you,” Andromeda said, though there was no real upset in her voice. Hermione supposed she was all cried out by now, and instead was only capable of feeling numb. “I appreciate that. Even if you had spoken to me at the funeral, I doubt I would have remembered; it was all such a blur for me. After I made the preparations I don’t really remember much of it.”
 
Hermione’s heart went out to the woman before her; the incredible, strong woman who had lost a husband and daughter, but still managed to stand up with her head held high, looking beyond presentable. It amazed her in a way, for she was sure that had she been in that situation, she would have gone to pieces. Bravery wasn’t enough sometimes, there had to be an inherent, unknown strength within a person to get them through the horrendous experiences that life threw at them.
 
Tonks’ funeral had been held at the same time as her husband’s; Remus Lupin. The service was utterly beautiful, and various members of the Order had spoken about Tonks’ and Lupin, detailing their various achievements and the risks they had taken in the name of the Greater Good. Molly Weasley had tearfully described how loved they were by friends and family, and Kingsley had talked about Lupin’s teaching aptitude, and Tonks’ stupendous abilities as an Auror. It had been sad to hear, but Hermione’s emotions had been frozen throughout, and she’d sat at the back of the Church with her head down and the hood of her cloak up to avoid drawing attention to herself. It was an action she had chosen to take for all of the services she had attended, not wishing for confrontation with anyone; especially the Weasley family who had no doubt heard about herself and Bellatrix by now. She had done the same at Fred’s funeral, watching with a heart-wrenching pain in her chest as Molly Weasley sobbed throughout the service, comforted by Charlie. Harry had stood with the Weasley’s, as much a part of the family as any of the Weasleys, and it served to remind her that somewhere in the depths of Australia, her own parents were out there.
 
Cutting into the lengthy silence, Bellatrix walked over to the mahogany drinks cabinet, and poured herself a Firewhiskey. Turning to Hermione and Andromeda, she asked casually, “Want one?”
 
Hermione shook her head, as did Andromeda.
 
“Fine,” Bellatrix said, and after gulping down the first glass, she poured herself a second, her hand giving a slight shake as she did so.
 
It was at this point that Hermione realised that Bellatrix was not as controlled as she attempted to portray herself to be. The fact that she was drinking, the shaking hand, and her reluctance to directly face Andromeda head on all indicated that she was out of her comfort zone. She knew that she couldn’t curse Andromeda, or even shout abuse at her without some sort of repercussion, and so she distanced herself from the situation, waiting for Andromeda to say or do something first. Unfortunately, Andromeda appeared to be just as stubborn, (although not as uncomfortable as Bellatrix) and so it would be down to Hermione to try to engineer this situation.
 
“I think we should sit down,” she suggested, walking over to the same sofa she had sat on during her first visit to Narcissa’s, and making herself comfortable. Andromeda sat opposite her wordlessly, and Bellatrix placed herself stiffly next to Hermione, now holding her third glass of Firewhiskey. Exasperated, Hermione decided to be blunt. “Ok, someone is going to have to talk at some point.”
 
Silence.
 
“Bella?” she tried, facing the older witch. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
 
“Nothing springs to mind.”
 
Hermione sighed, and facing Andromeda, waited expectantly.
 
“I have something to say,” Andromeda announced, and Hermione’s heart leaped. Finally, progress!
 
“You’re a hypocritical bitch, Bellatrix.”
 
Hermione groaned aloud, her head slumping into her lap. That was not the sort of conversation starter she had been looking for; Andromeda had practically given Bellatrix carte blanche to say whatever she felt like in response now. It had irritated Bellatrix enough when Narcissa made the comparison between Hermione and Ted, suggesting that Bellatrix had copied what Andromeda had done and fallen for a Muggle-born. For the accusation to be thrown at her by Andromeda directly was even worse. There was nothing Hermione could say to prevent Bellatrix from retaliating, and so she simply sat still, bracing herself for whatever abuse was to spout from Bellatrix’s mouth.
 
“My relationship is different,” Bellatrix said sharply, shocking Hermione just by referring to what they had between them as a relationship. “Don’t you dare try to imply that we are the same!”
 
“Well in that case then don’t give me that absurd Semper Amor nonsense!” Andromeda snapped. Apparently Narcissa had gone into detail as to how Hermione and Bellatrix had come to form a relationship, for there was no other way that Andromeda could possibly know about the ancient magic. “Even if that didn’t exist between you both, something else did. You did what most people do every day, and for once did something normal in your life. You fell in love. That’s all there is to it!”
 
Nostrils flaring, Bellatrix hissed at her sister, “You understand nothing.”
 
“I understand enough,” Andromeda retorted. “Why can’t you just admit you have been wrong all this time to treat me the way you have? Narcissa has. Narcissa even apologised. I don’t expect that from you but if you at least saw the error of your ways; that would be a start!”
 
To hear that Narcissa had apologised did shock Hermione somewhat; she never expected the blonde witch to go so far, even for the sake of her reputation. Whatever her motives, she had evidently done a good enough job to convince Andromeda if she was bringing it up now to Bellatrix. In turn, Andromeda was most likely trying to secure something of sustenance from Bellatrix, like an explanation for the decisions she had made, or reason, or simply for her to admit she had been a fool by the sounds of things. However, she seemed to fail to comprehend that Bellatrix was still Bellatrix; selfish, crazy, and stubborn. She was improving with time, but miracles couldn’t be expected.
 
“I haven’t actually done anything to you,” Bellatrix snarled. “I disowned you, but name one other thing I have done to hurt you.”
 
“Attacked my daughter?!” Andromeda shrieked.
 
“I have never injured her!” Bellatrix screamed, and she stood up, eyes flashing. “I tried to kill her, yes. Once! Once when Potter was fleeing to the Order’s home last summer.”
 
“And that makes it alright because it was only once?” Andromeda said, standing too. “You have done horrible things, many of which put Nymphadora’s life at risk whilst she was still alive! What about the time she was at Molly and Arthur’s when you crashed through their property and destroyed their home?”
 
“Ok, fine,” Bellatrix conceded. “I did that. But that was for fun, not to harm your daughter!”
 
Andromeda shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. Do you not see what you’ve done? You have been instrumental to Voldemort’s survival, to his power. You’ve helped the cause that murdered my husband, daughter, and cousin, Sirius. And the worst part is; you don’t even care. You stand here before me, and you offer no sympathy, no affection, not even an explanation. Well you know what, Bellatrix? Fuck you.” She span around, striding towards the door.
 
Hermione wanted to say something to stop her, but Bellatrix spoke first. “Wait.”
 
Andromeda turned.
 
Now Bellatrix looked uncomfortable. “I know... well, I understand why, from your point of view you’re angry.”
 
Andromeda grabbed the door handle. “Not good enough.”
 
“No, wait. I’ve... I’ve been a terrible sister to you. Rightly or wrongly, I’ve devoted myself to the cause that killed your daughter. I accept that,” Bellatrix said, flushing as she made such a personal admission.
 
Unable to prevent herself from staring at Bellatrix, shocked at her words, Hermione openly gaped at her, wondering how and why she was suddenly so open. It shocked her that Bellatrix was capable of speaking such words aloud without being under the influence of truth serum, or even duress. Moreover, the fact that her revelation had been to her sister that she had not seen or spoken to for thirty years made it all the more bewildering; what was it about Andromeda that made Bellatrix so readily speak to her when provoked? Even Hermione hadn’t been capable of making her do that yet, and she had always imagined that other than Voldemort, Bellatrix had been most honest with herself due to Semper Amor. As far as Narcissa was concerned, fair enough, she loved her, but Narcissa was closed off and so concerned with her reputation that Bellatrix was unlikely to be entirely honest with her.
 
“Why should I believe you?” Andromeda asked, somewhat wearily, as though tired of the situation that had lasted years.
 
Eyes flitting over towards Hermione’s direction, Bellatrix didn’t reply verbally, though it was obvious what she was thinking. Hermione knew what Bellatrix was thinking even without being able to practice Legilimency; what more proof could Andromeda want than the fact Bellatrix had been accompanied by a Muggle-born to the meeting?
 
“She isn’t proof,” Andromeda stated. “This could be just another game to you, Bellatrix.” It seemed clear to Hermione that Andromeda was reluctant to believe Bellatrix really did care for her, even despite Semper Amor.
 
“It isn’t,” Hermione interjected gently, understanding Andromeda’s point of view entirely. “I thought that too at first, but even Bellatrix wouldn’t fake this for so long. Not to mention the fact that I know from my own feelings that this really is Semper Amor.”  
 
“You don’t know her like I do,” Andromeda informed Hermione. “It’s not your fault, Hermione, but you haven’t been around her long enough to see the evil she is capable of.”
 
“I have,” Hermione disagreed. “And I don’t believe that just because Bellatrix has done evil things in the past that she is incapable of change eventually. You don’t understand; Dumbledore always claimed that love was stronger and more powerful than evil, and he has been proved right. Think about it. You rejected your upbringing because of love, and even after all this time, Bellatrix has done the same. Not in quite the same way, but it has happened, and that’s all that matters.”
 
“What makes you think that she loves you?” Andromeda accused, sounding unnervingly like Bellatrix.
 
“I just know,” Hermione stated without hesitation.
 
Looking expectantly at Bellatrix, Hermione waited for some sort of confirmation from her. Apparently, Andromeda had chosen to do the same, as she remained silent too, evidently reserving any further protestations until she had heard from her older sister. In this respect Andromeda reminded Hermione more of Narcissa than Bellatrix, for the latter was far too impatient to wait in an argument, preferring to keep it going until she either got her own way or until the individual she was arguing with backed down.
 
“Nice of you both to remember I’m still here,” Bellatrix said sarcastically. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
 
Andromeda gave a frustrated sigh. Although Hermione didn’t react to Bellatrix’s mockery, she was slightly irritated with it, and privately agreed with Andromeda, when she said, “This is serious. Do you love her?”
 
“That’s irrelevant,” Bellatrix replied.
 
“Not to me it isn’t,” Andromeda argued.
 
“Or me,” Hermione said quietly.
 
Bellatrix groaned. “If it shuts you both up, yes. Now can we move on?”
 
Despite the derision in Bellatrix’s voice, Hermione felt her heart soar. Not only had she admitted she loved Hermione, she had done it in front of someone else, which at least suggested that she wasn’t entirely ashamed of her feelings. Even if she had yet to go out in public with Hermione, it was early days, and this was a big enough step in itself. It took all of Hermione’s self-control not to throw herself against Bellatrix and drag her home to show her how grateful she was, because she knew it was imperative that she remained so Bellatrix could at least come to some sort of resolution with Andromeda. Yes!
 
“Move on to what?” Andromeda asked. “I have to be honest with you Bellatrix, I’m not sure where we can go from here. So much time has passed, and we’re so utterly different.”
 
“Then why are we even meeting?” Bellatrix said, sounding aghast. “Why have I wasted my time here?”
 
“I suppose I wanted to see if you really had changed,” Andromeda said. “Which I’m not sure you have.”
 
Bellatrix shrugged. “I’ve changed in many ways... just not to the extent that you appear to expect from me.”
 
Andromeda ignored her. “I nearly didn’t meet you today; I changed my mind at the last minute after speaking to Narcissa and learning about you and Hermione. I wanted to see if that was true,” she added.
 
Bellatrix snorted. “You’ve got your answer as far as that’s concerned. Anything else?”
 
With a frown, Andromeda seemed to consider something in her head. “Yes, actually. Why did you agree to meet me? I think it’s pretty obvious that Narcissa feels a certain amount of guilt for the years we’ve spent apart, but you don’t.”
 
“So because of that you want us to lead separate lives and never talk again?” Bellatrix asked, her face impassive.
 
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Andromeda said, quieter now. “This is a hard decision for me to make.” She stopped talking, and Hermione could see that she was having an internal debate with herself, possibly weighing up the pros and cons of making amends with Bellatrix.
 
It was equally as hard for Hermione to try and work out exactly how Bellatrix felt about Andromeda now that they had been face to face once more. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking and whether she was happy to just walk away and give up the possibility of a relationship with her younger sister. From her reaction earlier when Andromeda tried to leave, Hermione surmised that on some level she did care, but as to what extent, she was unable to tell. It was clear that the two sisters would always bicker, even if they did manage to recover from the estrangement, but getting to the stage where they sometimes got along again was going to be the hardest part.
 
Eventually, Andromeda spoke once more, ignoring the impatient expression on Bellatrix’s face. “I suppose I can try to come to terms with the things you have done, but only if you really do want us to stay in contact, and most importantly, if you’re prepared to accept Teddy.”
 
“Teddy?” Bellatrix frowned.
 
“My grandson. I’m all he has now, and his wellbeing is my only concern,” Andromeda confessed. “I wasn’t sure whether to bring Teddy, but I decided against it in case things became heated or... well... you didn’t respond well to him.”
 
“I’m... willing to get to know him, “Bellatrix said stiffly. “I suppose it’ll be like when Draco was a baby, though of course he is a pureblood, whereas Teddy is a half-blood.”
 
“If it’s an issue for you that he is a half-blood then perhaps it is best we go our separate...”
 
“No, it’s fine,” Bellatrix interrupted. “I hardly have any right to complain about his blood status considering recent choices I have made, whether due to Semper Amor or not,” Bellatrix explained, referring to Hermione.
 
Andromeda looked visibly relieved.
 
“What, did you think I was going to curse him?” Bellatrix said, now sounding amused. “In case you haven’t noticed, my violent nature has had to be seriously toned down. A small price to pay for my freedom, I suppose, but just to make it clear, I’m not going to do anything to hurt him. Even when your daughter was a child I didn’t...” she stopped speaking, apparently unable to find a delicate way of saying what Hermione knew she was thinking; I didn’t try and kill her.
 
“You’d better mean that, Bellatrix,” Andromeda said fiercely, and once more, she resembled Bellatrix so closely that it left Hermione feeling bewildered. “Because he is all I have, and if you ever think about hurting him, I won’t hesitate to kill you myself.”
 
Bellatrix opened her mouth to retort, but sensing the conversation was about to take another turn for the worse, Hermione headed Bellatrix off. “She won’t, Andromeda. Will you, Bella?” she said lightly.
 
Catching sight of the look of warning on Hermione’s face, Bellatrix nodded. Even if the result of this was an argument later on, Hermione felt that it was worth it, if only for Andromeda and Bellatrix to decide on forging some sort of sisterly bond that had long been neglected. With time, as each positive little aspect of Bellatrix’s life changed, improved, or came back to her, Hermione was hopeful that it would allow the older witch to start blending into society once more, and to change her views on blood purity. Maybe she was just a dreamer, but she was determined to give it her best shot before resigning herself to the fact that she was just the lucky exception in Bellatrix’s life.
 
Edging towards the door, Andromeda said awkwardly, “Right, well I should go. Teddy needs me... he’s not been sleeping well since... well... it’s a nightmare even getting him to fall asleep in the first place,” she cleared her throat in an attempt to compose herself. “Anyway, I’ll be in touch with Narcissa and... she’ll let you know when we intend arrange something.”
 
“Fine,” Bellatrix said, and just as Andromeda had started to leave the room, she added, “You should let him clutch your finger when you’re trying to get him to sleep. Cissy never slept well, if you remember, and it’s what we used to do to help her.”
 
Andromeda looked back at Bellatrix, surprised. “I’d forgotten about that,” she said, looking at Bella with surprise and awe. “I’ll try it. Thank you.”
 
Bellatrix nodded her head to acknowledge the thanks, but didn’t offer any verbal reply.
 
 “It was nice to meet you, Hermione. Hopefully we’ll see each other again soon,” Andromeda said kindly. “Goodbye, Bellatrix.” She gave her older sister a small smile.
 
“Goodbye,” Bellatrix said, and although she didn’t smile, the corners of her mouth did twitch briefly.
 
Andromeda left, closing the door behind her and leaving Hermione and Bellatrix alone.
 
“I think I did well, don’t you?” Bellatrix said airily.
 
“Yes,” Hermione said, because all things considered, it could have gone a lot worse. The very fact that no curses had been thrown back and forth was a miracle in itself.
 
“You do owe me though,” Bellatrix said. “After all your interrupting and answering questions for me.”
 
“I was doing you a favour! Hermione said hotly.
 
Bellatrix waved off her words. “If you say so. Let’s go before Narcissa starts asking questions too.”
 
“We’re not going to say goodbye?” Hermione asked with a frown.
 
“No,” Bellatrix said, sounding bored. “I honestly can’t be bothered to deal with her right now so it’s easier if we just leave.”
 
Biting her tongue, Hermione didn’t protest or argue with Bellatrix, mainly because she just wanted to get out of there and to go home. She supposed that Andromeda would have left by now or else was chatting to Narcissa, and so in fairness to Bellatrix it was as good a time as any to make an escape. There was still something about Malfoy Manor that unnerved her, and Hermione assumed that until she had visited the residence a great deal more often it was a feeling that would remain. It wasn’t that she felt unsafe here, that wasn’t it at all, but the fact that it was the home of Lucius Malfoy made her feel uncomfortable. She may not have set eyes on him since she had briefly come across him at the Battle of Hogwarts and he may not be a danger to her anymore, but that didn’t mean she was happy to be a guest in his home. Therefore, staying close to Bellatrix, she allowed her to lead the way back to the fireplace to go back to Black Manor. To our home.
 
**
(CLICK HERE for part 26.))

Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 

(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19),   (20),   (21),   (22),

**23.
 
The next week was fairly uneventful, with Hermione and Bellatrix remaining alone in Black Manor for much of the time. Although they hadn’t discussed whether Hermione would stay there on a permanent basis, it seemed as though there was no expectation for her to leave anytime soon considering that Bellatrix hadn’t mentioned that she wanted her to live elsewhere. As a result, Hermione had sent letters to Ron and Harry to inform them of her current whereabouts, and to let them know that she was perfectly alright. She had received a rapid response from Harry, but unfortunately, there hadn’t been so much as a one word reply from Ron. She tried not to feel too upset by this, understanding Ron’s reasons for not wanting to talk to her, but it still hurt regardless. After all, Ron had been one of her best friends before she had become involved with Bellatrix, and she had never wanted to lose him from her life completely.
 
Ministry officials had arrived to question Bellatrix further one afternoon, and to examine the memories she possessed to make sure they were genuine. As a consequence of this investigation, Kingsley (who had now formally been named as Minister for Magic) arrived the following morning to declare that Bellatrix was free to go about her life, should she abide by the Contract of Expectations he provided her with. The contract stated that she was to attend upon a Soul-Healer for the foreseeable future, she should refrain from using any sort of Dark Magic, and that she was not allowed to curse, jinx or hex any Muggle, witch or wizard regardless of whether she considered that she was justified in doing so.
 
Bellatrix had been completely insistent that she did not want to see any Soul-Healers, but after half an hour of arguing, Kingsley had informed her in no uncertain terms that she didn’t get to bargain. Once he had informed her that she either signed the Contract of Expectations as it was currently written with no amendments whatsoever, or faced a prison sentence in Azkaban for her refusal to comply with Ministry requirements, Bellatrix did as she was told, and reluctantly scrawled her signature upon the Contract, using the quill Kingsley provided her with.
 
As of yet, Hermione and Bellatrix hadn’t discussed the Horcruxes or anything specifically related to Voldemort’s death. Hermione had wondered if it would always be this way, or if the topic would eventually be broached. She was happy not to say anything, unaware if Bellatrix, or for that matter anyone else, truly understood the lengths Voldemort had gone to in his bid to achieve immortality. It was by now common knowledge that Voldemort had created Horcruxes; something that Harry had commented upon in his letter, as he wondered whether everyone knowing was wise or not. He was worried that it may lead to unnecessary speculation about any of the terrible events that happened leading up to the war, such as Dumbledore’s death, and if it would create fear that something similar could one day happen again. Privately, as selfish as it sounded, Hermione didn’t care; she was just grateful that the wizarding world was safe at present.
 
In addition, Hermione was extremely thankful that she finally had a new wand. Ollivander’s was already open once more, and she had joined the queue of witches and wizards (mainly comprised of Muggle-borns) waiting to find a suitable wand on the Thursday that it opened. She was desperate for any wand that wasn’t Bellatrix’s previous one, though she did as promised and handed it back to Bellatrix to keep as a memory, rather than snapping it in two and throwing it away. Fortunately, it didn’t take her too long to get used to her new wand, most likely due to the fact its’ core was Dragon heartstring; the same as her own old one that she lost to the Snatchers had been, and indeed the same as both of Bellatrix’s wands. She was extremely pleased with her purchase, for she found that her magic worked just the same as it used to with her previous wand.
 
It was the Monday of the week after when Bellatrix approached Hermione in the library, where she had spent pretty much every single day reading when they weren’t together. Whilst Hermione was alone, she had no idea what Bellatrix amused herself with, but she guessed that judging from the bangs and crashes she heard coming from the uppermost level of the house that she was practising spells of some sort. For now she was happy enough to remain in the dark, feeling that there was limited damage Bellatrix could do considering that other than Lemmy, (who by now had fully recovered) they were the only occupants of the house. It was more than likely Bellatrix was merely venting her frustrations, and considering it was probably the healthiest way someone as temperamental as her would do so, Hermione wasn’t going to take issue with this. All Hermione was concerned about was making up for the lost time when she had been unable to peruse whatever book she felt like at leisure, and luckily enough, there were hundreds of books she had so far seen that interested her; possibly even thousands. And so, with Bellatrix’s unspoken consent, she had spent every day sitting in the same armchair, quietly reading.
 
“I’m going to see Narcissa,” Bellatrix announced, standing in front of her and waiting expectantly. “Come.”
 
“What?” Hermione said, startled and looking up from her book. “I don’t think bringing me with you is a good idea, Bella.”
 
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “She’s not going to do anything to you; especially not if I’m there. Draco neither.”
 
“Lucius?” Hermione said. “Have you considered him?”
 
“I am more than a match for Lucius,” Bellatrix snarled. “If he says or tries one thing, I’ll curse him so far that he lands in the middle of a dragon’s nest in Egypt.”
 
“That might not be the best idea,” Hermione suggested delicately. “You know, considering you want to persuade Narcissa to accept me; I have an inkling that attacking her husband might not be the best way forward. Not to mention the Contract of Expectations that you’ve just signed.”
 
Bellatrix sighed. “You’re probably right,” she said mournfully, her agreement surprising Hermione. “Still, if he can’t keep his mouth shut and needs be...” Her voice trailed off and she made a violent gesture with her wand.
 
Hermione grinned. Over the past week Bellatrix had slowly but surely began to relax ever so slightly, possibly having realised that she no longer needed to be on edge anymore. This in turn meant that her mood had greatly improved; she was much calmed and not quite as angry as she used to be. It was the most human that she had ever been, and it was a change that was very much appreciated by Hermione. It had gotten to the stage where she almost didn’t mind being in love with someone like Bellatrix because for the first time, it felt as though the good outweighed the bad. Marginally.
 
“What are you smiling at?” Bellatrix asked, frowning.
“Nothing,” Hermione said, placing her book down, and rising to envelope Bellatrix in a kiss. It was warmly received, and their tongues danced around each other as Hermione pushed Bellatrix against the table behind her. As a result their bodies pressed flush together, and Hermione felt tingles run through her as Bellatrix gently dragged her nails down the nape of her neck. Gasping, Hermione began to kiss along Bellatrix’s jaw line, savouring the taste of her skin, and smiling to herself as she drew a low, guttural moan from the older witch.
 
“Hmm... stop, little babe,” Bellatrix rasped. “We’ll never go if you carry on...”
 
Wouldn’t you rather stay here anyway and just do this?” Hermione said seductively, tracing a finger along Bellatrix’s collarbone.
 
“Of course,” Bellatrix breathed. “But I have to see Narcissa. Besides, you’ve only left the house twice in the last week and it’ll be good to have a change of scenery.”
 
Other than the visit to Ollivanders, Hermione had only left the house to go back to her parent’s home and pick up some of her essentials, like clothes, shoes, and the luxuries such as makeup that she hadn’t worn in months. Surprisingly, the house looked exactly the same as the way it had been left, as evidently the protective spells that Hermione had placed on it at the start of the war had held out. However, as expected, there was no trace of her parents other than photographs on the walls of the two of them together. Nevertheless, despite Hermione’s desire to find her parents immediately, she wasn’t ready to search for them, still terrified of what she may possibly find. Anything could have happened to them, and although Bellatrix promised her that as far as she was aware they had not been found by Death Eaters, it didn’t do much to curb Hermione’s fears. After all, there was evil in Muggle Australia where she believed them to be; not just in the wizarding world.
 
“Fine,” Hermione sighed, knowing that she’d never persuade Bellatrix against seeing her sister and that she may as well face Narcissa today and get the confrontation over and done with. “But at least I’ve left this house twice more than you have.”
 
“I’ve had no reason to go out. Anyway, if you can handle me, then Narcissa shouldn’t be a problem,” Bellatrix said with a shrug.
 
“I know it’s stupid,” Hermione admitted, deciding to voice her fear, and part of the reason why she didn’t want to face Narcissa. “But I know you love your sister more than you could ever love me. I suppose I’m just worried that she will succeed in turning you against me.”
 
“No,” Bellatrix said, shaking her head. “My relationship with Narcissa is entirely different to the one I have with you. Yes, she is my sister, but the fact that I betrayed the Dark Lord for you should speak volumes for the way I feel for you.”
 
For Bellatrix to say such a thing, it was as good as if the words “I love you” had come from her mouth. The simple reminder of all that she had given up for Hermione made her feel a little better, and she knew that Bellatrix was being entirely honest with her in the same way as she knew she had told the truth regarding her parents. Her spirits lifted, she allowed Bellatrix to lead her towards the fireplace, a hand pressed firmly in the small of her back.
 
“She is expecting us, so we’ll Floo there,” Bellatrix announced.
 
 Hermione nodded. “Ok. You go first and I’ll follow?”
 
“Of course,” Bellatrix said, smirking at Hermione. “The saying is witches first, after all.”
 
“Are you implying I’m a man?” Hermione asked with a frown, trying to work out in her head what Bellatrix meant. “Or a Muggle?”
 
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “I was joking, Hermione.” She took a pinch of Floo Powder. “I’ll see you in a moment.”
 
Placing a chaste kiss on Bellatrix’s mouth, Hermione murmured, “See you.”
 
“Malfoy Manor,” Bellatrix called once she was in the flames.
 
Echoing Bellatrix’s actions shortly after, Hermione did the same, closing her eyes as she travelled so that she didn’t feel dizzy. It had been a while since she had used the Floo Network, and much the same as Apparating, it took some getting used to. Her main concern at the moment, however, was the fact that she would have to face Narcissa, and possibly Lucius and Draco if they were around. She felt sick to the stomach, because even though Bellatrix claimed she would protect her and remain loyal; what would she do if Narcissa forced her to choose between them? Hermione didn’t know enough about Narcissa to predict whether this was a possibility or not, but should the situations between the sisters have been reversed and Bellatrix was still a Death Eater, she probably would have killed Narcissa for deigning to have a relationship with a Muggle-born.
 
All too soon, Hermione arrived at Malfoy Manor. Trying to appear as dignified as possible should she immediately be faced with Narcissa, she stepped out of the flames carefully, her expression devoid of emotion. Narcissa was an unknown entity to her, and so she would to her best to portray a similar image to the blonde witch. No doubt Draco would have whined about her, especially during their younger years at Hogwarts, meaning that Narcissa knew more about her than she did about Narcissa. However, whilst this put Narcissa at a slight advantage, if Hermione was a good enough actress then hopefully Narcissa wouldn’t be able to read her too easily.
 
The most she had ever seen of Narcissa was when she had been tortured by Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor, which was definitely a memory from hell that she was tempted to have Obliviated. Although throughout her time there Narcissa had not laid a single finger on her, or cast any spell at her directly, she hadn’t exactly jumped to defend her either. If anything, she had just waited for Bellatrix to tell her what to do, and followed instructions, never quite doing enough to have an effect on anything. Still, Narcissa hadn’t gone out of her way to help her at all, and so Hermione was feeling apprehensive about seeing her again to say the least. 
 
Hermione was relieved to note that currently, herself and Bellatrix were the only occupants of what looked to be the hallway. She wondered where Narcissa was, and if she had forgotten that they were supposed to meet. Maybe that gave her time to Floo back to Bellatrix’s? Of course, it was weak to back out now, but she wasn’t feeling a great deal of that infamous Gryffindor bravery at the moment, and so she was unsure if she could stand to do this anymore. So what if she was a coward? She had committed enough courageous acts this past year alone to more than make up for a moment of weakness.
 
As if she had read Hermione’s thoughts again (and Hermione wasn’t sure if she had, because apparently Bellatrix was good at delving into her mind when she was unaware and not conscious enough of her mind being penetrated) Bellatrix murmured, “Stop worrying. I’ve told you, it’s going to be fine.”
 
“I’d feel better if you held my hand,” Hermione said, immediately chastising herself for being so idiotic as to actually speak the words. As if Bellatrix was going to do that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”
 
Surprisingly, Bellatrix grinned. “Please think before you speak when Narcissa is around. She’s far more reserved than I am, and she’ll fail to see the funny side.”
 
Blushing, Hermione looked down at the floor as she trailed alongside Bellatrix, feeling stupider than ever. She was usually so good at saying the right thing and controlling her emotions, but apparently all of that went to pot the moment she was around Bellatrix. It wouldn’t have mattered if they had been in a relationship for five years; Bellatrix would never go all mushy around her and start showing public displays of affection.
 
Nevertheless, as Hermione thought this, she felt a hand roughly weave itself around her waist, resting possessively on her hip. Shocked, she gawped at Bellatrix unable to believe that she would touch her like this when Narcissa could appear at any moment from behind one of the doors surrounding. Lost for words, she continued to stare at Bellatrix, wondering if this was a sign that the raven haired witch was willing to sacrifice a little of who she was as a person if it made Hermione happy.
 
“I’m not going to hold your hand because I find that just a little too odd, but if it makes you feel better, then I’ll do this. Ok?” Bellatrix explained, no trace of sarcasm in her voice.
 
“Thanks,” Hermione whispered, just as they entered what looked to be a sitting room. Decorated in a Jade Green shade with hints of gold here and there, the rug and soft furnishings made it look a great deal more comfortable than the drawing room that Hermione had been tortured in. There was a large handsome portrait of Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Bellatrix looming down from one wall, none of them smiling, and all making formidable characters. Despite this, it did serve to highlight how good-looking a family they were, whilst showing their arrogance at the same time. It was this portrait that Hermione focused on in awe for several seconds, before she turned to face the current occupants of the room other than herself and Bellatrix.
 
Casually perusing a copy of The Daily Prophet, Narcissa was sat on one of the large, black leather Chesterfield sofas next to Draco, who had immediately looked up at Bellatrix and Hermione, a startled expression on his face. He made a sort of whimpering noise which caused Narcissa to also look up from the newspaper, and she too appeared stunned to see the sight of Bellatrix and Hermione before her. Hermione supposed she could understand, especially considering their current position with Bellatrix’s arm around her, which made it perfectly clear just how close they were.
 
“Cissy,” Bellatrix said, smiling at her sister. “You seem surprised... I thought you were expecting me?”
 
Narcissa stood. “Not quite like this Bellatrix, as you well know.” She turned to Draco, and said in a low voice, “Draco, you’d better leave us.”
 
With a curt nod, Draco swept from the room, his eyes flitting over to Bellatrix in a terrified glance only briefly as he shut the door behind him. Hermione supposed that it was the way many people would react to Bellatrix considering everything she had done; Bellatrix was a frightening character even without considering her past actions. There was something about the way she held herself that put people on edge, and even now that Bellatrix wasn’t a real threat, Hermione still sometimes experienced that feeling when she was with her.
 
“Anyone would think he was scared of me,” Bellatrix mused, gazing at the door that Draco had just closed. She turned to Hermione. “I’m beginning to wonder why I bothered asking you to save him; apparently he’s as spineless as his father.”
 
Hermione was saved from a reply by Narcissa, who said coldly, “Stop it, Bellatrix; you have even less right to mock Draco now than you did previously. Lucius too, for that matter.”
 
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Bellatrix snarled, her demeanour changing. As she stiffened, she tightened the hand around Hermione’s waist, and though the extra pressure hurt, Hermione managed to hold back a whimper.
 
“You know exactly what I mean,” Narcissa snapped. “Do you care to explain this?” She gestured towards Hermione.
 
Bellatrix surveyed Hermione. “She’s my...” her voice trailed off as she searched for the appropriate word. “Partner? Girlfriend doesn’t sound right, does it? Special friend?”
 
“Bella,” Hermione hissed, no longer able to tolerate Bellatrix’s hand clenching at her waist. “Stop squeezing me!”
 
Bellatrix grinned before relaxing her grip. “Let’s sit down,” she said, leading Hermione over to the sofa that Narcissa had previously been sat upon. She threw herself down with force, pulling Hermione next to her with a great thud.
 
“I sincerely hope that this is your idea of a sick joke, Bellatrix,” Narcissa said, taking a seat on the sofa opposite them, and folding her hands together in her lap.
 
“Hang on,” Bellatrix said. “If Andromeda can run off with a Muggle-born then why can’t I?”
 
“That’s exactly the point!” Narcissa exclaimed, no longer quite as controlled. There was a hint of wildness and ferocity in her eyes, though of course it was nowhere near the amount that Bellatrix’s orbs sometimes held. “You have spent the last thirty years hating our sister for her choices, and now you’re doing exactly the same thing! Is this the reason you betrayed the Dark Lord? It had nothing to do with concern for Draco and I, did it?”
 
“Cissy,” Bellatrix said, and her voice was softer now. “I didn’t want this to happen, but it did. We can’t... we can’t live without each other. It’s Semper Amor.”
 
There was a pause.
 
Narcissa stared in disbelief as the words sunk in. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
 
“It is,” Bellatrix insisted. “Don’t you remember us talking about it years ago? Semper Amor has been proven to exist. And... well... it exists between myself and Hermione.”
 
Hermione processed Bellatrix’s statement, and realised exactly what Bellatrix’s declaration implied. “Wait, you knew what Semper Amor was before I showed you the book, Ancient Love?”
 
“Yes, Narcissa and I read about it when we were teenagers at Hogwarts,” Bellatrix answered, and then as though she realised what she had revealed, she tried to wave it off. “But that doesn’t matter now.”
 
“It matters to me,” Hermione said, incredulous of Bellatrix’s reaction. How could she think this wasn’t a big deal? If Bellatrix had been aware of Semper Amor since before Hermione informed her, that meant that she possibly knew when she was torturing Hermione in the cell. At what point had Bellatrix been aware of the unbreakable connection between them? Had she been in denial? Hermione had so many questions flying around her head that she didn’t know what to ask first. She didn’t know what to think. All that was on repeat in her head was Bellatrix knew, Bellatrix knew, Bellatrix knew.
 
“Yes, I knew when I was holding you prisoner, and no I can’t tell you exactly when because I tried to block it out. Now, can you stop thinking so bloody hard and let me talk to Narcissa for the moment?” Bellatrix said in annoyance.
 
“Well, stop looking inside of my head!” Hermione retorted, embarrassed that Bellatrix was speaking to her in such a way in front of someone else; her younger sister of all people. “I didn’t ask you to invade my mind!”
 
“Then practice your Occlumency skills more and learn to close your mind off when you are unaware of someone trying to look inside your head. Or at the very least learn when I’m probing your mind so that you can quickly shut me out,” Bellatrix snapped.
 
At this point, Narcissa cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”
 
“Sorry,” Hermione apologised, feeling embarrassed. “This um... it happens a lot. We argue constantly.”
 
“Does she not use the Cruciatus Curse on you to keep you in your place? I’m sure you’re aware that’s one of Bellatrix’s specialities,” Narcissa drawled, addressing Hermione directly for the first time since her arrival at Malfoy Manor.
 
Hermione stared at the blonde witch, unable to tell if she was joking or not. She didn’t look as though she was being cruel, but that didn’t necessarily mean that was the case. It may just be that Hermione was truly awful at reading the emotion currently worn on Narcissa’s face, being as it was so well hidden. Whatever the reason behind her words, Hermione was not going to retaliate. Now was the time to be nice to Narcissa unless she had proof that she was being provoked, because she didn’t need to provide her with more ammunition or further reasons for hating her other than her blood status. She does hate me, doesn’t she? Why else would Narcissa be acting this way towards her if there wasn’t at least a little animosity?
 
“No. Not anymore, anyway,” Hermione said, answering truthfully. Wanting to keep the conversation with Narcissa going, she added, “Why, has she used it on you too?”
 
Narcissa smirked, and Hermione was struck by how similar a resemblance to Bellatrix she bore. Despite the straight, raven and blonde coloured hair that Narcissa had, they shared the same deep brown eyes, and apparently some similar expressions too. It was unnerving to think about, let alone be faced with. “No; my darling sister would never dream of using an Unforgiveable Curse upon me.”
 
“Are you sure about that?” Bellatrix muttered. “There’s a first time for everything.” She threw Narcissa a filthy look.
 
“Calm yourself, Bella,” Narcissa chastised.
 
“I’ll calm myself when you stop irritating me,” Bellatrix said through gritted teeth.
 
“I’m not trying to irritate you,” Narcissa said, composed. “I’m simply having a conversation with Miss Granger.”
 
Weird, Hermione thought. If Narcissa was only comfortable with calling her Miss Granger, then for the moment she would have to accept it. However, should herself and Bellatrix still be together several months down the line (which was looking more and more possible as each day passed without them trying to kill each other) then she would have to say something. After all, it was inevitable that she was going to have to spend some time with Narcissa considering how close she and Bellatrix were. Perhaps if Narcissa continued to be so formal then she could have a word with Bellatrix about it; Hermione doubted very much that Narcissa would pay any attention to her wishes unless Bellatrix asked on her behalf.
 
“Well, I would appreciate it if you focused a little more on me,” Bellatrix huffed. “I am your sister after all.”
 
“My sister who has brought her new friend to visit,” Narcissa said promptly. “Can you blame me for being intrigued?”
 
“We didn’t come here for you to question us!” Bellatrix declared. “I wanted you to know about Hermione because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
 
“That’s fine,” Narcissa said, and again, Hermione couldn’t tell if she really meant what she said. How frustrating. “Though if that is the case, there is something I should tell you too.”
 
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”
 
“I have been in touch with Andromeda,” Narcissa announced. “I felt that given the circumstances, it was appropriate.”
 
“What?” Bellatrix said at once, pursing her lips. “You’re not serious, Cissy?”
 
Narcissa shook her head. “Yes, I am. And before you open your mouth and start spouting abuse, I’d think very carefully about recent choices that you have made yourself. You have no right to judge Andromeda; not anymore.”
 
Angrily, Bellatrix balled her hand into a fist. “I have already explained why this is different, and...”
 
Interjecting, Narcissa said, “Had Andromeda been the one experiencing Semper Amor, you would still have shown her no mercy.” She bowed her head in apparent shame. “And neither would I. But the Dark Lord has gone, Bellatrix, and our families’ reputation is in tatters. It is time for us to build bridges, and I think it is time to start with Andromeda. She has lost her husband and daughter, and now she has to raise her grandchild alone.”
 
“I doubt that Andromeda is even going to want to set eyes on me considering that I have spent the last couple of years trying to kill her daughter,” Bellatrix said scornfully.
 
“I think it’s a good idea,” Hermione said, hoping that Bellatrix didn’t turn her fury against her. However, she felt as though she had to tell her what she really thought, because without a doubt, Narcissa was doing the right thing. Maybe it was for all the wrong reasons if she was mainly concerned for her reputation, but if some good came out of it, then who was Hermione to question her motivation? Besides, as far as she could tell, Narcissa was highly logical in many ways; something that she admired and aspired to herself.
 
Bellatrix shot Hermione a warning look, but directed her attention back to Narcissa as she said firmly, “No.”
 
Regardless of Bellatrix’s refusal, Narcissa seemed unfazed as she said, “Do you really think that you’re going to be accepted into society? It’s going to be hard enough for myself, Lucius and Draco to build our reputation again, but you’re going to have even more of a fight on your hands.”
 
“I don’t care what others think of me,” Bellatrix said defiantly. “They can hate me all they want; considering most of them are scum not even worth my time, it really isn’t an issue for me.”
 
As Hermione considered Bellatrix’s stance, she tried not to feel too upset by her admission. She had known what she was letting herself in for when she agreed to pursue the connection between herself and Bellatrix, and although slowly Bellatrix was beginning to change; it wasn’t going to happen overnight. Unlike Narcissa, Bellatrix was unconcerned with her reputation because for years she had been in Azkaban, away from all of the abuse that people threw around about her. Even afterwards when she had broken free, she had only been concerned with Voldemort, and surrounded herself daily with people who agreed with her views. There was a chance that when Bellatrix had to face people in the street that over time, eventually she would begin to care. Either that or she would attempt to curse people left, right and centre, though Hermione hoped that she would at least attempt to restrain the urge to do that, or else end up in Azkaban again.
 
“Why are you so against seeing Andromeda?” Hermione asked curiously. At the very least she wanted to understand exactly what Bellatrix’s issue with Andromeda was. “Her husband is dead, and surely the main reason you stopped talking to her was because she had tainted the Black family name, which has now been destroyed for entirely different reasons.”
 
“Because she turned her back on us without a second thought,” Bellatrix snapped. “Anyhow, we still have a reputation amongst certain groups.”
 
Hermione gaped. “What, like the remaining Death Eaters who have been put into Azkaban? They probably hate you for your betrayal. Even if they don’t... that’s absurd, Bella! Your mere association with such individuals is probably enough in itself to warrant them throwing you into Azkaban and locking away the key, and this time you won’t survive, because you don’t have the thought of being back with Him to sustain you. He’s gone! You either need to fit into society or face life in prison.” Taking a breath, Hermione finished her rant. “Oh, and Andromeda didn’t turn her back on you without a second thought; Tonks once told me that she still has photographs of you all as children in her home, safely kept in a box that she hides in her wardrobe.” She ignored the pang in her chest as she mentioned Tonks without thinking. Focus on the conversation, don’t think of her now.
 
Finally having said everything she needed to say, Hermione stopped, looking back and forth between the two sisters. As it frequently was, Narcissa’s expression was entirely unreadable, but Bellatrix, who showed all emotions other than sadness more easily on her face, was staring at her in wonderment. It was strange for Hermione, because she didn’t think she had ever been on the receiving end of such a look from the older witch. Despite not feeling threatened, she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable as she prepared herself for whatever was to come next.
 
“What?” Hermione asked when Bellatrix was still watching her half a minute or so later, still not having spoken. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
 
Bellatrix briefly glanced over at Narcissa, before she faced Hermione, and said, “I think I finally truly understand why you’re a Gryffindor.”
 
“Huh?” Hermione frowned. Where exactly was this leading?
 
“I don’t think anyone other than you would ever dare to speak to me like that in front of another family member,” Bellatrix said. “Your Gryffindor bravery astounds me.”
 
Still confused, Hermione said, “So... are you angry?”
 
Bellatrix appeared to think for a moment. “Surprisingly, no I’m not. I don’t have an overwhelming urge to inflict Crucio upon you at any rate.”
 
“Does that mean you agree with me?” Hermione tried again to understand what Bellatrix was getting at.
 
“I agree that what you just said makes sense. And... considering everything, it may be in my best interests to speak with Andromeda at least once.” She directed at Narcissa, “I’ll leave it to you, Cissy, to sort out the arrangements with her?”
 
Mutely, Narcissa nodded. Her outburst appeared to have had an effect on Narcissa, Hermione noted with pleasure.
 
“Well, now that’s all sorted, I think it’s time for us to leave,” Bellatrix said, standing up. “I’m sure you have a lot to discuss with Draco and Lucius.”
 
“Yes,” Narcissa managed, eyes flickering over to Hermione. “It was... interesting to meet you, Miss Granger.”
 
Hermione smiled, despite the awkwardness that the other witch so obviously felt. “Likewise.” She avoided the use of Narcissa’s name, not wanting to appear too over-familiar.
 
“I’ll see you to the fireplace,” Narcissa said politely, guiding Bellatrix and Hermione out of the room, even though they knew the way perfectly well on their own. Well, Bellatrix did; Hermione wasn’t sure she would ever get used to large manor houses, for although her parent’s home was spacious, both Black Manor and Malfoy Manor took living space to a whole new level.
 
As before, Bellatrix left first, apparently not concerned with the fact that now Hermione would be left alone with Narcissa. Not wanting to wait around, Hermione hurriedly took a pinch of Floo powder, but as she was about to step into the fireplace, Narcissa cleared her throat, drawing Hermione back around. Up close, the resemblance to Bellatrix was ever more striking, for their eyes were so uncannily similar that Hermione had to remind herself that this was Narcissa she was standing opposite, not Bellatrix. Focusing on the different hairstyles and clothes worn helped somewhat, but Hermione didn’t wish to appear rude by looking Narcissa up and down, and so she tried to just focus on her face instead.
 
“I don’t know how you’re able to make Bellatrix listen to you the way she evidently has been,” Narcissa said slowly. “But I have only ever seen her act that way for someone once before.”
 
Hermione swallowed. “Voldemort.”
 
Narcissa visibly flinched at the use of the name. “I don’t know what your agenda is, and I don’t particularly want to know. However, you should be aware that Bellatrix is infatuated by you, and should you decide against pursuing things with her, she will not give you up easily. If you are unsure of anything, then now is the time to walk away, before things become any more serious.”
 
Hermione shook her head angrily. How dare Narcissa question her feelings? “There is no agenda, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m as infatuated with Bellatrix as she is with me. I’ve risked my friendships and my life to be with her, and have no intention to ever leave. So if that’s a problem for you, then I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere.”
 
Turning back to the flames, she threw the Floo powder and stepped inside before Narcissa could response. She wasn’t interested in hearing any more negativity; she had already dealt with enough of that to last a lifetime. If Narcissa was unhappy with Bellatrix’s choices then simply put, it was too bad. Hermione’s feelings for Bellatrix were so strong that she knew nobody else would ever be able to match up to her, and she couldn’t imagine kissing anyone in the way that she kissed Bellatrix. Granted, she still hated her just that little bit for everything that she had done to good, innocent people over the years, for everything that she had found amusing and for all the pain she caused, but that didn’t change the fact that she loved Bellatrix with all her heart.
 
And that was the way it was going to stay.
 
Forever.
 
**

(( CLICK HERE for part 24 ))

Title: Impossible
Author: perfect_pride
Pairing: Hermione/Bellatrix
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It goes without saying that none of the Harry Potter world or its’ characters belong to me, unfortunately. Neither do the lyrics.
Warnings: Mental and physical abuse/torture.
Summary: Bellatrix abducts Hermione and keeps her prisoner, but an ancient magic threatens to change both their lives in ways they never thought were possible.
A/N: This fic begins during the summer months at the start of Deathly Hallows and complies with the events throughout the book. The timeline has been slightly adjusted at the start but it is barely noticeable. It takes into account events from the books and the films, but mainly the books as they are my favourite and provide greater detail. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (film) wasn’t considered as I wrote this beforehand and I feel like the scenes I have written and slotted into the book version work better. I hope that makes sense, if not, please ask. Also, I have tried to keep the characters in-character despite the unlikely pairing. Feedback is welcome. :) 

Additional warning in this part that the memory may be distressing for some.

(1),   (2) ,  (3a),   (3b) ,   ( 4),  ( 5) ,   (6),   (7),   (8),   ( 9),   (10),   (11),   (12),   (13),   (14),   (15),   (16),   (17),   (18),   (19), (20),   (21)


**22.
 
The next day, since waking, showering, and eating breakfast, all Hermione had done was argue with Bellatrix about her wand. As much as Hermione wanted there to be a blissful period where they got along and everything was sweetness and light, it was quickly becoming apparent to her that Bellatrix was entirely incapable of behaving like an adult. Despite the fact that she had only just woken, Hermione was already mentally drained, and wished that Bellatrix could have at least given her a few hours’ peace.
 
Hermione was currently still in possession of Bellatrix’s first, dragon heartstring wand, and had been ever since the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. As much as she didn’t want to use the wand, it was the only one that she had at present available to her. Bellatrix on the other hand had the new wand she had used at the Battle; one which she proudly proclaimed Voldemort had provided her with, before she looked sheepish upon the realisation that this did not impress Hermione in the slightest.
 
As far as Hermione was concerned, she didn’t want a wand with a horrible history stored in its’ memory, but she doubted that a new wand was an option at present. The wizarding world was still recovering in the immediate aftermath of the war, and the chance of there being a wand shop such as Ollivanders open was highly unlikely. Bellatrix however, didn’t share her opinion.
 
The main reason they were arguing at the moment was due to the fact that Bellatrix had requested her old wand back, stating that she preferred it to her new one. So far Hermione had steadfastly refused to give it up to her, knowing that Bellatrix had used the wand to commit hateful crimes over the years, and indeed that it was the wand she used against Hermione whilst they were still enemies. Nevertheless, each time that Hermione refused, Bellatrix insisted more and more that she wanted it back, until she started to become annoyed. As usual.
 
“I want my original wand back. Now!” Bellatrix said forcefully.
 
“You used this wand to do terrible things. No,” Hermione refused, standing her ground. She sensed that the conversation may take a turn for the worse, but for the moment she wasn’t too worried. After all, she had to get used to Bellatrix’s mood swings and rages, if the last twelve hours or so were anything to go by.
 
“It’s still my wand,” Bellatrix protested sullenly, pouting and looking childlike.
 
“No, Bellatrix,” Hermione refused, more firmly than before. What would it take to make Bellatrix understand how important this issue was to Hermione?
 
“It isn’t your decision to make,” Bellatrix whined.
 
“I just don’t see what the problem is when the wand you’re using now works perfectly well. You said so yourself!” Hermione exclaimed.
 
“Because I want the wand that I have had since I was a child,” Bellatrix protested. “I bonded well with it.”
 
Hermione felt as though she was faced with a four year old who just couldn’t listen to logic and reason. There was absolutely no need for Bellatrix to switch wands other than the fact that she was just being choosy. It wasn’t a case of there being an issue with bonding, considering that the wand Bellatrix currently used also had a dragon heartstring core, and was similar in many ways to her first wand, other than the fact it was only twelve inches as opposed to twelve and three quarters. Such a difference was entirely minor, however, and Bellatrix was simply being difficult for the sake of it. Again, as usual.
 
“You tortured me with this wand,” Hermione said dryly, holding up Bellatrix’s first wand in her hand. “Did that help you bond with it?”
 
Bellatrix at least had the decency to flush slightly at this. “That is irrelevant.”
 
“No Bella, it’s not,” Hermione insisted. “You don’t need this wand anymore. You’re supposed to be making a new start, and you already want the one thing that enabled you to hurt people. The memories contained in this wand don’t even bear thinking about! Please, will you just let this go? For me?”
 
Hermione was unsure if such emotional blackmail would actually work on Bellatrix, but it was worth finding out now for the future. Besides, nothing else that she had said so far had an impact on Bellatrix, so it was time to step things up a gear as far as she was concerned. This was something that Hermione felt strongly about, and she was not prepared to back down. Admittedly, her bossy side was coming out, but she considered that after all the terrible things Bellatrix had done to her, she was entitled to a moment or two of getting her own way. It wasn’t revenge as such, but it would make her feel just a bit bloody better, that was for certain.
 
To Bellatrix’s credit, she didn’t reply immediately, apparently thinking the request over when faced with Hermione’s emotional argument. It was like something in her had clicked, and she no longer had a little-girl expression on her face. Eventually, when she did reply, she said slowly, “I have a suggestion.”
 
Hermione frowned. This she hadn’t been expecting. “What suggestion?”
 
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, apparently irritated. “I won’t ever use the wand; I’ll just keep it for myself and I’ll continue using the one I have now.”
 
“Why do you want to keep it then?” Hermione asked, perplexed
 
“It is a reminder of when I was young,” Bellatrix said, for once sounding entirely sincere. “That is the wand I used to learn magic; is it really so wrong that I want it as a reminder of my past good memories?”
 
Hermione found it hard to picture Bellatrix as a young witch, but she supposed that even considering what she had grown into, she still would have experienced some of the initial excitement that Hermione had when she went to Ollivander’s to pick out her first wand. Even the pure-bloods still had similar experiences; they just tended to act more reserved around others, and displayed happiness with a great deal more arrogance. Bellatrix would not have let go to the same extent that Hermione had when she bought her wand, but she probably still felt a similar sort of pride at finally being given the opportunity of having her own wand.
 
“Ok,” Hermione said, agreeing. “I’ll give it to you when I have a new wand myself, on the condition that you never use it.”
 
Contrary to the pleased reaction Hermione was expecting, Bellatrix looked angry instead. “You know, I imagined that after the war ended you would still do as I said. Evidently, that’s not the case.”
 
For a second or two, Hermione was taken aback at the unexpected change in Bellatrix. She had gone from being childish, to being rational, to sudden anger. There were so many emotions in such little time that Hermione barely knew where she stood, because despite the fact that she knew more about Bellatrix than before, there was still a great deal that she had to learn and understand about the older witch. Moreover, she accepted that it would probably take years until she understood everything about her, and that there may be certain things about Bellatrix that always remained a mystery. At the same time, she needed to make it clear that now the war was over and they were actively in a relationship together, that she didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life walking on eggshells around Bellatrix. Sometimes, Bellatrix would have to accept that she couldn’t do as she pleased or have what she wanted, because life was about giving as well as taking.
“I’m not your toy,” Hermione said sharply, standing up for herself. “This is supposed to be an equal relationship, Bellatrix. You need to learn to accept that.”
 
“Actually, I was under the impression that you were happy to allow me to take control,” Bellatrix snapped. “You said that you would still do as I wanted; the same as before.”
 
“I think you’ll find that what I said was that I would still be here. There’s a difference,” Hermione pointed out.
 
“Well I want you here doing as you’re told. I want you to realise that you answer to me forever, because you belong to me,” Bellatrix answered, as if it was the most ordinary request in the world.
 
 Is she serious? How could Bellatrix ever think that Hermione would be ok with living in a cell for the rest of her life, doing as she was instructed? She had only ever been forced to submit to Bellatrix, and would never do so willingly; especially for the rest of her life. Even if Bellatrix was naturally the more dominant one in their relationship, that didn’t mean Hermione was going to roll over and quite literally take the abuse hurled at her. That was not the person she was, or somebody she would ever become. Above all else, that wasn’t normal. An abductor and a captive had that sort of sick bond, not two people who were supposed to be in love, even if it was through an ancient magical love. Even if we used to be abductor and captive.
 
“Not... not like your slave or someone you can... can order about,” Hermione stammered, nauseated by the implication. “Or cage, for that matter.” Her plan to stand her ground with Bellatrix had gone completely out of the window, for she was entirely thrown by Bellatrix’s latest admission. She couldn’t think clearly, and Hermione didn’t know what to say or do to get through to Bellatrix how very wrong her wishes were.
 
“Well I don’t want to keep you in a cell anymore, but I do want you to behave yourself,” Bellatrix said casually, as if that made everything ok.
 
Did Bellatrix really mean that? She wanted to control Hermione in every way possible; she just wouldn’t lock her up anymore? That was twisted, but so like Bellatrix to think such a thing. She had never really had a normal relationship; her marriage with Rodolphus was practically forced on her, and she had spent years devoting her life to Voldemort. The most normal relationship she had was with Narcissa, and even then she still seemed to be the one in charge, especially considering that she was the older sister.
 
“How can you think I would be ok with you telling me what to do?” Hermione said, her voice shaking. “I didn’t agree to those terms at all.”
 
“Because that was what I assumed you meant, when you gave your permission for me to be in control,” Bellatrix said coldly. “Just because I want to share my bed with you, it doesn’t mean that I’m happy for you not allow me to make my own decisions.”
 
“Likewise!” Hermione shot back, her voice slightly hysterical. Don’t cry, don’t cry. “I meant that you would be in control of your own everyday choices, not in control of matters that I feel strongly about!”
 
“You have no right to force your opinion on me,” Bellatrix snapped.
 
“Is this about the wand?” Hermione asked desperately. “Because if it’s that important to you, then just take it!” She drew the wand from her own pocket, and threw it  towards Bellatrix. It landed at her feet, where she stood opposite her in the sitting room. Hermione looked down at it, her blood was boiling with rage, sickness, and every other horrible feeling that Bellatrix managed to draw out of her.
 
“This isn’t just about the wand,” Bellatrix responded, a hiss in her voice.
 
“Last night then?” Hermione tried again, referring to her reluctance and eventual refusal to be intimate with Bellatrix for the first time. “You really do have a problem with waiting for me to...”
 
“No!” Bellatrix interrupted. “I accepted that! You behaved as I imagined you should, waiting for me to call you on your behaviour, and allowing me to practically make the decision for you. That was fine. Now however, you are trying to tell me what to do, and that, sweetheart, is what I have a problem with. I don’t take orders from somebody like you!”
 
Hermione understood in that moment what exactly was going on. Bellatrix was not angry with her because she was trying to take her wand from her, she was angry because someone she deemed as less worth as a witch than herself was telling her what to do. Hermione’s blood status was still a huge problem for Bellatrix no matter what she claimed, and despite the fact that she stated Hermione was an exception to her general beliefs. No, this was so much more than just Bellatrix throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t accept Hermione’s instructions because she wouldn’t allow herself to take orders from just another Mudblood.
 
Hermione made a decision. Voicing her thoughts aloud, she said in a surprisingly strong voice, “If you can’t accept that as a Muggle-born I should be equal to you, then this relationship is never going to work.”
 
Bellatrix laughed horribly. “You won’t leave, because like it or not, you need me, Mudblood.”
 
There it was; that hurtful name. Hermione resolved not to retaliate with her own insult, knowing that Bellatrix had said it to provoke a reaction out of her.
 
“And you need me too,” Hermione said instead, as calmly as possible. “But let me tell you something; you need me far more than I need you. I have friends, support, a positive reputation within the wizarding community. You have your sister and nephew, and not a whole lot else. You’re hated, Bellatrix, and I’m the only one who can help to change people’s perceptions of you.”
 
Before she knew it, Bellatrix had crossed the room and gripped her by the throat. “You dare to turn your back on me now and I will kill you. And don’t think I won’t, because if you walk away, believe me, the anger I feel towards you will far overcome any feelings I may have.”
 
Refusing to allow herself to be scared, (for less than twenty-four hours ago she had fought to defeat the greatest Dark Wizard of all time) Hermione held her head up high, and said in as resolute a voice as she could muster considering that Bellatrix was constricting her airway, “Then kill me.”
 
“Excuse me?” Bellatrix said, taken aback. She loosened her grip on Hermione’s neck ever so slightly.
 
“Kill me,” Hermione repeated. “Because you will have nothing. You will be thrown into Azkaban and never released. You won’t even have the option of trying to turn to Voldemort, because guess what? He’s dead.” She glanced down at Bellatrix’s left forearm, where the Dark Mark had almost faded, to back up her statement.
 
Breathing hard, Bellatrix stared at her. She spat venomously, “I hate you.”
 
“I hate you too,” Hermione said with as much force as she could muster, ignoring the shooting pain in her neck from where Bellatrix held her. “Unfortunately, I also love you. Let go of me, Bella.”
 
For several seconds, Bellatrix seemed to have an internal struggle with herself. If she released Hermione then it would be like she was allowing her to win, but if she kept hold of her, she would achieve nothing. Choosing the latter would mean hurting Hermione so badly that she left, or killing her, in which case she would lose anyway. Smart enough to realise that would be her worst option, Bellatrix let go of Hermione, standing backwards, apparently shocked at how far she had let things get, and her own behaviour.
 
Knowing that now was not the time to fight with Bellatrix or to be angry with her for behaving in the only way she knew how to, Hermione bravely stepped towards her once more. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Bellatrix, pulling the shorter witch’s head against her collarbone, and gently holding her in place there. “I won’t leave you, I promise. All you have to do in return is value me as a person.”
 
Bellatrix remained silent, keeping her head buried against Hermione. Briefly, Hermione wondered if she was crying, showing weakness, but somehow, she didn’t imagine that Bellatrix was capable of such emotions yet, if at all. Still, on the off chance that she was wrong, she allowed Bellatrix to hide her face from view, knowing that she needed a private moment when she could listen to Hermione without being judged for the expression on her face.
 
“You can have the wand when I have a new one, Bellatrix, but please don’t use it. Just do this one tiny thing for me. I know you’ve already done so much, but I’ve risked a lot for you too. And if you promise to start trying to see me as your equal,, then I’ll help people to understand that they don’t need to hate you, or Narcissa or Draco. It’s going to be tough for the next few months, but I promise that things will change. The one thing about the Order is that they forgive a hell of a lot more easily than Voldemort did,” Hermione told her. “It’ll be ok.”
 
“I won’t use the wand,” Bellatrix mumbled into Hermione’s chest. “And I’ll try for you.”
 
Relieved and grateful, Hermione smiled. She placed a kiss atop Bellatrix’s head, the witch’s raven curls tickling her skin as she lowered her mouth. “Good,” she said softly. “Are you ready to look at me yet?”
 
Bellatrix lifted her head, and Hermione noted that there was no sign of tears. However, there was a vulnerability in Bellatrix’s eyes that Hermione had barely ever witnessed, and she reminded herself to tread carefully and to take the chance to nurture the good in Bellatrix whilst she could. For this reason, she slowly drew their mouths together, and sucked on Bellatrix’s bottom lip. She swirled her tongue around Bellatrix’s, hoping to distract the raven haired beauty entirely from the intense argument that had just taken place. This was the proof she offered to Bellatrix that she wasn’t angry, and that things were going to be ok between them, even after Bellatrix had hurt her.
 
Eventually, Hermione hoped that one day Bellatrix would never want to attack her again, and that she was entirely capable of change. Wrong or right, she chose not to see it as abuse; at least, not in the conventional form. Reward and punishment was all that Bellatrix had ever known; she didn’t know what it was just to fight and make up. It would be down to Hermione to teach her that.
 
It was a knock on the door that forced Hermione to part from Bellatrix, and distracted her from the argument entirely. “Do you know who that could be?” she asked, a little breathless.
 
Bellatrix nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing her hair back from her face. “The Longbottom boy. When you were in the Headmaster’s office last night, he cornered me and demanded that I carry out my promise to him that I would show him Rodolphus’s memory of the night his parents were tortured.”
 
Hermione gawped. “Is he really up to that so soon?”
 
With a shrug, Bellatrix pulled away from Hermione entirely, and walked out into the hallway. “Not my concern. He wanted to see the memory as soon as possible, and I want to get this over with. Besides, the Ministry are going to be examining the memories I have shortly, to check they haven’t been tampered with or altered, so it may be the only chance I get to show him for a while.”
 
As Bellatrix opened the door and stood back to allow Neville entry, Hermione tried not to look too shocked at Bellatrix’s politeness towards Neville. In turn, he looked wary, and there was still hatred in his eyes as he gazed at Bellatrix. Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything offensive, and just followed her up the stairs quietly, and towards the library where Hermione knew the Pensieve to be. Walking behind, Hermione followed, under the assumption that her presence would help to keep Neville calm, especially as they reached the library, and walked towards the cabinet containing vials of memories.
 
Hermione couldn’t help staring around in wonderment at all of the books she was surrounded by, for this was the first time she had entered the library. Although she imagined many of the books to relate to the Dark Arts considering the family that Bellatrix had come from, there were more than likely many interesting reads that hopefully she would be privileged enough to read someday soon. It was hard for her to focus on the current situation, so distracted was she by being surrounded with one of her many loves; books of all shapes and sizes.
 
“Are you ready?” Bellatrix asked, getting straight down to business. She poured the memory into the Pensieve, waiting for Neville to enter.
 
Neville nodded, his face white. As of yet he hadn’t spoken a single world to either Bellatrix or Hermione, and he looked terrified at what he was about to witness. Hermione didn’t blame him in the slightest.
 
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked him gently.
 
Neville considered her offer. “I... I don’t know.” His voice sounded smaller than it usually did, making him sound like a little boy.
 
Noticing Bellatrix opening her mouth, Hermione realised that she looked as though she was about to say something rude. Shooting her a warning look over Neville’s shoulder, Hermione was relieved when she snapped her jaw closed again. Evidently, she was beginning to learn. 
 
“Well, how about I come with you, and then I’ll just stay silent?” Hermione suggested. “I’ll move into the background so you won’t even know I’m there.”
 
Neville nodded. “Ok. That sounds... that’s ok.”
 
Hermione squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of support. “Let’s go then.”
 
**
November 1981
 
Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Junior stood silently outside the property, wands drawn. Without uttering a word, they seemed to agree silently on the plan of action, and with one swift swipe from Rabastan, the door flew open, and the group entered. They ran into the kitchen, taking the Longbottom’s by surprise as they were eating their dinner. The unarmed Aurors were powerless to fight as they were magically restrained, for they weren’t in possession of their wands. Frightened, they whimpered on the floor as the three Death Eaters circled them, wands drawn and pointed directly at them. The only part of their bodies that Frank and Alice were able to move were their heads, and so they turned to gaze at each other silently, a terrified look in their eyes.
 
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rodolphus asked sharply, looking as though he was in no mood for games.
 
There was no reply.
 
“I’ll ask you again,” Rodolphus said, growing impatient. “Where is the Dark Lord?”
 
“We... we don’t know. He’s dead,” Frank denied, panting.
 
Rodolphus didn’t waste any more time at all. “Crucio!” he yelled, watching as Frank writhed in pain. “Tell us!”
 
“Stop, please!” Alice shouted, pleading for her husband. “We don’t know! We don’t know!”
 
“Lies!” Barty screeched, echoing Rodolphus. “Tell us the truth!”
 
“Please! Please, we don’t know,” Alice repeated, and she cried out as she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, just as her husband had been.
 
Rabastan, Rodolphus and Barty took it in turns to repeat the same question over and over, and when they were given the same reply, they continued to use the same curse. By far, the most skilled at performing the curse was Rodolphus, and so he took charge of the situation. Unfortunately, the Death Eater’s didn’t appear to be getting anywhere fast, and so Rodolphus decided to take things further. Wordlessly, he looked at Barty and Rabastan, watching as they nodded their head, apparently aware of his intentions. It seemed that they had already discussed what they would do if the Longbottom’s wouldn’t help them, and now it was time to kick things up a notch.
 
“Now,” Rodolphus said.
 
“CRUCIO!” All three yelled, pointed their wands at Alice. They watched as Frank screamed, begging for his wife, but it made no difference to them at all if he didn’t like their actions. 
 
Unlike her husband, Alice didn’t waste any breath screaming. Instead, she tightly closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath. The Death Eaters didn’t appear to have any idea what she was saying, and didn’t particular care unless it was useful information for them. Unfortunately it looked as though neither of the Longbottoms’ were going to tell them anything they needed to know, and so really, they were causing pain and suffering for the sake of it with only the smallest chance of learning the information they wanted.
 
Just as Rodolphus had signalled to the others that it was time to end the curse for the moment, there was a cry from upstairs, Rodolphus wheeled around. “What was that?”
 
“N-nothing,” Alice stammered, shooting a terrified glance at her husband.
 
Rodolphus was no fool, however. “Watch them,” he ordered, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He entered the first room he passed, and discovered a baby in a cot, crying. Grinning at his new bargaining tool, he roughly pulled the baby upwards and ran back down the stairs with him.
 
“Look what I found,” he said.
 
“What are we supposed to do with that?” Rabastan asked, looking disgusted. “Put it back where you found it, brother. You don’t know where these filthy, animalistic freaks have been with it! They could have been socialising with Muggles for all we know.”
 
At once, Rodolphus dangled Neville, dropping him on the floor heavily. He landed on his backside with a thud, and cried out immediately after his body connected with the floor.
 
“Not Neville, please,” Alice interrupted, begging and crying heavily. “He’s just a baby. Please, no!”
 
Seeing that his mother was crying, Neville too began to cry harder. “Mama... mama...” he said through his tears, repeating the word over and over.
 
“It’s ok Neville, it’s ok my darling,” Alice sobbed, trying to compose herself for his sake. She turned back to Rodolphus and said angrily, “Can’t you see he’s upset? He’s just a baby; leave him alone!”
 
Rodolphus knelt down next to her. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your brat.” Murmuring, he flicked his wand, once more inflicting the Cruciatus Curse, glancing over at Neville every now and then to smirk at his reaction, and the fact that he was bashing his tiny little fists on the floor.
 
Copying Rodolphus, Rabastan began to perform the same curse on Frank, and together they stood, allowing the curse to go on for several minutes before they stopped. Barty had started to get twitchy, and was looking out of the window, on the lookout for Aurors.
 
“Where is the Dark Lord?” Rabastan repeated. “Tell us, and we will make your death quick and painless. We’ll even spare the boy.”
 
“We... we would tell you if we knew,” Frank said, using all his strength to talk over Neville’s crying. “All we have been told is that he is dead. Please... our son... Neville...”
 
Neville screamed even louder at the look on his father’s face.
 
“It’s ok son... it’s ok. Me and mummy... we love you,” Frank said, trying to reach out to Neville.
 
“Yes darling, we love you so very much,” Alice repeated, still sobbing, attempting to shuffle closer to Neville.
 
The binding jinx you used has worn off,” Rabastan said to Rodolphus quietly. “They’re moving again.”
 
“It doesn’t matter; neither of them have the energy left to fight,” Rodolphus replied, casually flicking his wand and causing Frank to shriek in pain.
 
Over the next hour the Cruciatus Curse was used again and again, with Neville crying manically for his parents. The Death Eaters did nothing to placate him, leaving Neville to crawl around his parents alone, who kept talking to him, despite the constant pain they were in, They ignored all questions from the Death Eaters, instead preferring to tell their son that it was going to be ok, and that he had nothing to worry about. Each time his mother spoke to him, Neville would grasp her hand, only for it to be torn away as the Cruciatus Curse hit her once more. The pattern was beginning to get repetitive, and everyone involved knew that soon the scene would draw to a close.
 
“They’re not budging,” Rodolphus said, breathing heavily. “Well, if that’s the way you want to play it.”
 
Alice mumbled something incoherent, her eyes closed. Neville clung onto her hand next to her, his head resting against her arm.
 
Walking towards Alice, Rodolphus kicked her out of the way, and dragged Neville backwards on the floor, ignoring his shrieks. “Maybe if the life of your son is at stake, you’ll take us a little more seriously.”
 
There was nothing but silence from both Frank and Alice Longbottom.
 
“No? Well then,” Rodolphus hissed, and he raised his wand.
 
“Rodolphus!” A female voice called, all three of the Death Eaters turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange walk into the room. She sneered down at the Longbottoms. “What are you doing?”
 
“The child,” Rodolphus said. “If we kill the child, maybe they’ll talk.”
 
Bellatrix looked down at Alice Longbottom, who was now curled in a ball moaning, and Frank Longbottom who was staring vacantly drool coming out of his mouth. “They’re not capable of speech at all! What did you do?!” She stared at the other Death Eaters, anger reflected in her features.
 
“Cruciatus Curse,” Rodolphus said gruffly. “You use it all the time to...”
 
“Fool!” Bellatrix shrieked, and she waved her wand to send Rodolphus flying backwards into Barty and Rabastan, where the three crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Consistent and constant use will render the individuals it is performed on incoherent and brain damaged! How are we ever going to find the Dark Lord now?!” Enraged, there was another bang as she flicked her wand, and Rodolphus cried out in pain.
 
Rodolphus mumbled, “If we use the child...”
 
 “No,” Bellatrix interjected sharply. “It is a lost cause! Don’t you see the state they are in? Using the child will achieve nothing!”
 
“Then let’s just kill the child out of revenge,” Rodolphus suggested, beginning to compose himself. “Teach the wizarding world that this isn’t over.”
 
“No,” Bellatrix repeated angrily. “They won’t even know we’ve done it... their minds are addled. Our efforts are best spent looking for another trail leading to our Lord.”
 
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and scrambling up, the three Death Eaters watched Bellatrix expectantly, waiting for instruction. When none came, Rabastan said in a panicked voice, “It could be Aurors if they suspect something is wrong? But how?”
 
“Never mind how,” Bellatrix hissed. “It’s time to leave!”
 
Disregarding her, Rodolphus walked over towards Neville, and raised his wand. “Let me just...”
 
Hissing, Bellatrix sent him flying backwards against the wall, where his head cracked sickeningly, and he slumped to the floor.
 
“You bitch!” Rabastan said. “What did you do that for?”
 
There was another more insistent knock on the door.
 
“He doesn’t listen!” Bellatrix said furiously. “Come!”
 
There was a crash.
 
Throughout, Neville sat quietly, watching his parents. His mum wasn’t crying anymore, and he smiled at her, seemingly not at all worried by her eerily calm state. Bellatrix had her eyes focused on him as all four Death Eaters Disapparated, and then everything faded to white.
 
**
 
After exiting the memory, there was silence in the room. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Neville, who slumped onto the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at Bellatrix yet, not after seeing the memory. It was true, Bellatrix hadn’t participated, but merely seeing that she had been part of such a horrendous attack was enough to sicken Hermione. It was worse after seeing what Neville’s parents had gone through and how they had suffered despite genuinely not knowing anything about Voldemort’s whereabouts.
 
“What happened after you had gone?”
 
Neville had asked the question in a fairly neutral tone, but he still stared ahead of him, as though in shock.
 
“We tried to run,” Bellatrix said. There was no note of anger, irritability, upset or happiness in her voice. Like Neville, she sounded impassive. “But the Aurors caught sight of us just before we Disapparated, and quickly caught up with us. I assume they took your parents straight to St. Mungo’s.”
 
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Neville asked, sounding eerily calm.
 
“It wouldn’t have achieved anything,” Bellatrix replied with a shrug.
 
“Since when did that bother you?” There was now a hint of agitation in Neville’s voice, as though he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and coming out of the trance he seemed to be in.
 
Bellatrix moved towards Neville, and sat on the floor opposite him. She didn’t look sympathetic, but she seemed willing enough to talk to him. Although surprised, Hermione kept her mouth shut, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. She would stay out of this unless Neville brought her into it, or the situation became too tense and it seemed that Bellatrix and Neville may start to duel. It seemed like a possibility, especially considering the current state that Neville was in. He was still facing forward as though he was a Hogwarts statue, and hadn’t even attempted to brush away the tears that were steadily leaking down his face.
 
“You are a pure-blood. As you have already witnessed yourself, the Dark Lord is... was... reluctant to kill pure-bloods. He would only do so if absolutely needed, and it wasn’t necessary to kill you. It is exactly why he gave you the option to support him whilst at the Battle yesterday; he genuinely would have allowed you to become a servant if you had sworn your loyalty to him,” Bellatrix revealed. “Besides, Draco was your age at the time, and had I done anything to harm you, Narcissa would never have forgiven me. She never did like violence against babies and children, and she’s the only person I cared about at the time so...”
 
“Wait,” Neville interrupted. “Why don’t I remember any of that? Even Harry has some flashbacks, but with me, there’s nothing!”
 
“I don’t know. Perhaps because yours is a normal memory and you didn’t possess the connection that Potter does... did... with the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix answered.
 
“Oh,” Neville replied. Then, blinking, he seemed to remember where he was and aware of the way he was acting, he stood shakily. He turned to Hermione, who watched him worriedly, not knowing if he was going to be ok or not. Seeming to sense this, Neville gave her a platonic hug, and upon drawing away, he said, “I’m going. I... I need to be on my own before I explain to Gran what I’ve just seen. I’ll see you soon, I suppose.”
 
Hermione nodded sympathetically. “Do you want me to go home with you and take you to your grandmother?”
 
Neville shook his head. “No, no. I’ll be fine.” As if he had suddenly remembered that Bellatrix was in the room, he faced her, and wiped his expression of emotion. “I still hate you, Bellatrix. You knew what was happening to my parents, even if you didn’t take part or intend for them to end up in the state they are today. But at the same time, in a twisted sort of way, I owe my life to you. I wish I didn’t, but I do and nothing will change that. You saved me at the Battle, and you saved me when I was a baby.”
 
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to all of this?”
 
“The point is that if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you. I feel like... like I have closure, now. I’ve never heard my parents say they loved me, not once. Now though, I’ve heard it for myself, and I know that even though they were losing their minds, their only concern was for me,” Neville added, his voice breaking.
 
“I’ll be happy to stay away from you,” Bellatrix declared. “So we’ll probably never have to have another conversation again.”
 
“No, we won’t,” Neville said, agreeing. “But you should know that if you do anything to hurt Hermione, it isn’t just Ron and Harry you have to worry about, it’ll be me too.”
 
“Not that it’s any of your business, Longbottom, but I don’t intend on doing anything to her,” Bellatrix snapped, though Hermione couldn’t help remembering the way Bellatrix had treated her today before Neville’s arrival. Nevertheless, she kept quiet, knowing now was not the time or place to dispute Bellatrix’s statement. “Shall I see you out?” she added, effectively ending the conversation.
 
“No; I’ll see myself out,” Neville refused. He gave Hermione a small wave, which she returned, before leaving the library.
 
Not disputing Neville’s choice, Bellatrix watched him leave the library silently. For her part, Hermione too was unable to speak, processing what she had just watched inside the memory of Rodolphus. She could understand how Neville felt as though he had closure by seeing his parents’ last moments of sanity, and how it would have helped him to know that they really did love him. On the other hand, she focused on what she had seen in Bellatrix’s face as she looked down at the Longbottoms; pure venom. It scared her to think that even now, Bellatrix didn’t care about what had happened to them, she didn’t regret it at all.
 
“Of course I regret it,” Bellatrix said.
 
“What?” Hermione said, and then realised Bellatrix had been inside her mind again without her realising. “Stop getting into my head! Wait... what? You regret it?”
 
“The Longbottoms knew nothing. The others had just taken away the brilliant minds of two pure-bloods for no reason at all, and Rodolphus was too stupid to realise along the way what he was doing. Had I been there, I would have realised immediately, and I would have been able to prevent them from doing the damage they did,” Bellatrix elaborated.
 
“You wouldn’t have let them go free,” Hermione stated.
 
“No,” Bellatrix said. “I would probably have tried to persuade them of the benefits of supporting the Dark Lord instead.”
 
Hermione stared. She didn’t have the energy or the inclination to explain to Bellatrix exactly what was wrong with her reasoning, and so she let the comment pass without comment.
 
“I wouldn’t have tortured them in front of their child, either,” Bellatrix continued. “I didn’t say anything just now because I couldn’t bear trying to be nice to him anymore than I already had, but between us, he must have that memory inside him on some level. It just traumatises him so much that he can’t face it as he’s blocked it from his mind.”
 
There was still one thing that Hermione needed to know, however. “Why would you care about someone else’s baby?” she asked curiously.
 
“I happen to like babies,” Bellatrix said, defensiveness in her voice. “Just because I don’t have any children it doesn’t mean that I hate them.”
 
“I guess I just assumed that because you don’t have any...” Hermione’s voice trailed off, but the insinuation hung in the room, unspoken, but heavy on the atmosphere.
 
“I don’t have any children for obvious reasons,” Bellatrix said. Hermione assumed that she must have looked blank, because in an irritated tone of voice, Bellatrix added, “One, I was entirely repulsed every time Rodolphus attempted to touch me, and two, pregnancy was the last thing on my mind whilst I was serving the Dark Lord. It doesn’t mean that I hate all children; some are entirely pleasant to have around. Such as the quiet ones.”
 
“Right.”
 
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed. “Yes? Did you have something to say on the matter?”
 
Hermione shook her head. Apparently, she was never going to understand Bellatrix. Just when she thought she must know all there was to figure out about her, the older witch went and said something else that was surprising. The idea of Bellatrix actually liking children had never occurred to her, mainly because she didn’t have any of her own. Whatever the case, Hermione was not going to press Bellatrix any further, as considering everything that had already happened before lunch on their first day together, it would be nice to spend the rest of the day relaxing. Therefore Hermione chose to accept Bellatrix’s answer, and summoned the courage to pick a book at random from one of the shelves behind her. With a smile on her face, she took a seat on one of the armchairs and curled her legs up to read peacefully, for the first time in what felt like forever.
 
**

(( CLICK HERE for part 23. ))