Chapter 33: Meet the GrangersChapter TextHermione was getting increasingly worried, again looking out of the bay windows to see into the street. Still no sign of Trix.
Could she have gotten lost? Honestly, Hermione couldn't imagine how: Heathgate was just a single street and it was, conveniently, located just a few minutes away from a portkey transport hub in the middle of the Heath. Certainly Trix couldn't be that helpless in the muggle world, no?
Still, she was running late. It left her to pace back and forth through the living room. Her rather amused father, who was sat on the sofa, looked up from the book he was reading. "Chin up, puppet," he said. "She's only ten minutes late."
Hermione sighed. Perhaps dad was right. Perhaps she was worried over nothing. Perhaps... perhaps she should rush to the bay windows again to see if she was already making her way here. Alas, she was not.
The young witch let out a grunt and stomped over to the glass sliding door looking into their spacious backyard. She heard her mum over in the kitchen while she thought back to some playful memories of that backyard. Running around with the family dog, when they still had one. Playing badminton with her mum. Floating around in an inflatable pool in the summer. She actually discovered her magical nature right here in this backyard, after stubbing her toe against a big rock and then shooting it off into the sky by waving her hand at it in anger. How startling that that been.
McGonagall had come to visit the family home the very next day. Her life had taken such a strange turn after that.
The pleasant chime of the doorbell sounded through the house, causing Hermione's heart to skip a beat. She turned around and rushed towards the front door, barely hearing her father's well-meant 'go get her, Tiger!'. Hermione stopped after almost colliding with the front door, caught her breath and patted down her clothing to remove some unsightly creases. She opened the door and, to her delight, saw Bellatrix on the other side.
It was required of wizards and witches to adjust their clothing when going out into the muggle world and Bellatrix had done just that, having transfigured herself into an outfit conforming to the latest fashionable trends… of 1968. Bellatrix had donned a pair of very flared trousers with an astonishingly colourful floral pattern and combined it with a baggy and blindingly bright blouse. Finishing the image was a pair of oversized plastic sun-glasses. Bellatrix looked to be, dare Hermione say it, rather 'groovy'. Which made the completely black travelling cloak flung over her back and the traditional pointy, floppy witch-hat on her head utterly ill-fitting on an already completely and utterly ill-fitting outfit.
"Uhm," Hermione started after taking it all in.
"Sorry I'm a bit late," said Bellatrix. The two girls smiled and brushed lips briefly. "Maman wouldn't let me go until I'd allow her to put a trace on me. And my wand. And my clothing down to my underwear. She's probably looking in on us right now through the scrying bowl. Hello, maman! See? I arrived safe and sound," she said after waving at no one in particular.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at the positively psychedelic Bellatrix and tried to keep a neutral expression. "C-could you find it alright?"
"Yeah, it's only one street, but... I say, travelling through the muggle world is legitimately shit-your-pants scary," said Bellatrix. "Those muggles out there couldn't stop staring at me! It's like they could sense I'm a witch!"
"No," replied Hermione with a grin. "I can honestly say that's not why they were looking at you."
Bellatrix unsheathed her wand and tapped her clothes, transfiguring her psychedelic 1968 look into a black velvet dress underneath her cloak. It was an elaborate dress with a corset-like waist section and a widening billow from the hips down. Silver runes had been inlaid on strategic places of the fabric. Of course, the most striking feature was that, even though she showed no cleavage, there was a very nice, well, push-up effect going on.
Hermione had no idea she'd been staring until Bellatrix reached over with her hand to raise Hermione's lower jaw until her mouth was shut to the sound of an audible clack. The young witch immediately felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Bellatrix, for her part, seemed rather pleased with herself.
"Is there somewhere I can put my hat?" asked Bellatrix, with a tone that was a little too much filled with forced innocence. Indeed, Bellatrix was wearing her Sunday best. No doubt she wanted to make a good impression on her parents.
The curly-haired witch seemed playful and happy. Joyous, even. It was hard to imagine Bellatrix hadn't been much older than this when she'd become a member of the Death Eaters and been given her Dark Mark. Wait? What? What was she on about? Bellatrix had never been a Death Eater! Or... had she? Wait, she had. But...
Again, Hermione head felt as if it was about to explode. The pain in the back of her skull was more painful that the last time. Even so, Hermione managed to keep it hidden. She took Bellatrix' hat and hung it from the coat rack next to the door. Bellatrix then took out her bag and set it on the ground. Of course, she was staying the night so she figured Bellatrix had brought some supplies with her. Those hopes were dashed when she heard soft buzzing.
Hermione sighed heavily. "Don't tell me you've brought the wasp."
"I've brought the wasp," Bellatrix chuckled and released Zipper from the bag. The giant wasp immediately shot through the hallway to explore his surroundings, leaving no time for Hermione to warn her poor parents.
A shriek sounded from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something breaking after falling to the ground. A cry of 'Cor! Amazing!' came from the living room. Zipper came flying back into the hallway and lazily flew up the stairs to explore the first floor.
"Yeah, didn't want to leave him all alone at the mansion," Bellatrix shrugged.
The next step was to take her to the living room to introduce her to her parents. Though her mother was decidedly shaken up from coming face-to-face with a giant wasp... a giant wasp which was now sat on the ceiling having a staring content with a tiny spider in the corner. Her mother looked up every so often, eyeing Zipper suspiciously.
"Bellatrix Black," Trix introduced herself. "Eldest daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Well... technically speaking, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Hermione had been a bit wary about Bellatrix coming to her home: the curly-haired witch could be blunt and insensitive at the best of times, but Bellatrix also knew how much her parents meant to her. She was being on her best behaviour while making the usual introductory small talk with her mother and father. It was almost odd to see her being this polite.
"Tell me, Bellatrix," asked her father, a twinkle in his eye. "Do you know what a 'hunting rifle' is?"
Bellatrix put her finger to her lips. "I think I've heard mention of it. It's a muggle chimney decoration, isn't it?"
Jack Granger turned to Hermione with a smirk. "Well played, Hermione. Well played."
Upon the questioning look Bellatrix gave them, her father turned to clarify. "For years I've had this running gag with Hermione that if she were to bring home some spotty twerp to introduce to us, I would be casually cleaning granddad's hunting rifle while he was doing so. Now, to turn that on its head, first of all, Hermione brings home a girl... which isn't really all that much of a surprise…"
"Dad..." Hermione sighed.
"And second, she brings home a girl who has no idea what a hunting rifle is," Jack Granger said. "I have been deftly outplayed."
"Ah, I see," Bellatrix replied. "But you need not worry. Hermione and I have already shared a bed on multiple occasions."
An awkward silence followed. Then, in complete unison, both her parents turned their heads to Hermione. Hermione, who was now red as a beet, bit her lip for a month before scraping her throat to speak with a tiny voice. "Uhm, Trix... you don't say that... that sort of thing to someone's parents..."
"You don't?" Bellatrix frowned. "Oh. Well, you see in pure-blood culture, it's good form to mention when two pure-bloods are already having sexual relations at the start of formalities. It is an indication that the future bond will be fruitful in terms of offspring and continuation of the family line."
While Hermione certainly understood the importance of continuation of bloodlines for a pure-blood household, that didn't make this situation any less awkward. No less the fact that Bellatrix simply didn't seem to understand that she had made a serious social faux-pas.
Emma Granger, eager for a change of subject, broke the silence with a smile and a nod. "Well, Bellatrix, what would you like to eat tonight?"
A choked snort breaking the silence came from her dad, doing his best not to laugh and failing at it.
"Dad!" Hermione narrowed her eyes before elbowing him.
"Dinner!" her mother corrected quickly. "What would you like to have for dinner tonight, Bellatrix? You are our guest, so it seems right for you to choose."
"Oh!" Bellatrix' eyes lit up. "Kebab roll!"
Emma Granger frowned. "Kebab roll?"
"This is the muggle world, right?" said Bellatrix. "When me and my sisters were growing up, only my younger sister Andie was brave enough to enter the muggle part of Manchester. My sisters and I always had to eat it in secret because father didn't want any muggle things in the house and Andie had to smuggle it in. It was oh-so-good! Could we have a kebab roll tonight? It's been ages!"
Emma Granger laughed. "Well, at least you're a cheap date, Bellatrix. And you'll be saving me a lot of time in the kitchen, so I'm not complaining."
The kebab rolls were swiftly ordered and delivered. The concept of delivery of fast food was a new one for Bellatrix and she undoubtedly filed it away as useful information for later. The curly-haired witched looked to be rather happy to sink her teeth in her kebab roll, a blissful look on her face when she chewed.
"So," asked her father. "I've been told about your incredible story. I can't imagine what it's like to have made a thirty-three year timeskip. How are you adjusting? Things must be so different."
"Hm," said Bellatrix after finishing her bite. "Well, truth be told, I don't feel all that much has changed other than people being older and, well, me having missed two wizarding wars. Other than that, wizarding society doesn't change all that much."
"The muggle world changes very fast," said Jack Granger. "Compared to thirty-three years ago, the world would be almost unrecognizable to a time traveller."
"I used to be told that muggles are dangerous and live in mud huts. Obviously not true, but you know how stereotyping goes," said Bellatrix. "The only thing that was a shock is to hear that both my young cousins died in the war."
Hermione nodded. "Sirius and Regulus."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," replied Emma.
"Aye," Bellatrix replied. "And with Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga gone too, my branch of the family means we're the only Blacks left in the United Kingdom. That puts a great deal of pressure on us. At least there's the Montana Blacks left, so at least there's no direct danger of our family dying out, but it's still frightening."
"Montana Blacks?" said Hermione. "You've never mentioned that you have family in the States."
Bellatrix shrugged. "Not much to tell. I've never had much contact with them, though I would honestly like to. My great-grandfather Delphinus Black travelled to Montana in the late 1890s to study the shamanistic magics of the Blackfoot tribe... and yes, I am aware of the irony in that name. It's a story as old as the world: he fell in love with one of the native witches and, hey presto, separate branch of the Black family in Montana. They've been developing a lot of new magic for generations, marrying more western style spell-casting with tribal shamanistic magics. One of the things they're discovered, for example, is a way to apply permanent charms to themselves by the way of enchanted tattoos. The practice hasn't really caught on yet outside of the Blackfoot tribe. My father visited them on several occasions, in direct defiance of uncle Orion's orders."
"Oh?" Hermione asked. "What was wrong?"
"Nothing much," shrugged Bellatrix. "The Black family enjoyed good relations with out Montana cousins for ages until uncle Orion made a stink about it. Apparently, the Blackfeet don't keep proper genealogy records, so it couldn't be strictly confirmed that the girl my great-grandfather married was actually a pure-blood. My father argued that she had to have been because of the traditional shamanistic bloodlines, but that wasn't enough for uncle Orion. It was a big fight over nothing, but uncle Orion was head of the entire Black family at the time, not just our branch of it, so there was nothing he could do. From what I've heard, my sister has smoothed things over considerably the past ten years. So maybe we could visit them sometimes, Hermie."
Bellatrix took another bite from her kebab roll and swallowed. A few more bites later and it was gone, leaving Bellatrix to somewhat mournfully stare at her empty plate.
"Well, you certainly have an interesting family," said her father. "Is there something you like to do in your spare time? Such as a hobby or a way to pass the time."
"Hm," said Bellatrix. "I used to be really big on broom-flying, but more recently I've been enjoying the writing of short stories. Mostly scary and morbid horror stuff."
Oh, dear. Bellatrix shouldn't have said that: Hermione could see her father's eyes positively light up. "Oh, I'd love to read some of those! Do you have a favourite horror film?"
"Film?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Horror layers? Layers of horror? Pardon me, but I don't think I understand the question."
"Dad," said Hermione. "Trix is a pure-blood witch. She's never seen a film in her life."
"Oh!" grinned her father. "Have I got a treat for you then, Bellatrix!"
Hermione felt a soft hand on her wrist. "Hermione, dear? Would you give me a hand with the dishes?" asked her mother.
Now, Hermione had known her mum long enough to know that that was code for 'let's talk in private'. Indeed, while her father dragged Bellatrix to the living room, Hermione helped her mother to gather the dishes from the table and followed into the kitchen.
"She's nice," said her mother while cleaning the dishes at the sink while Hermione sat at the kitchen table. "And very polite."
"Yes. Uncharacteristically so," replied Hermione.
"Maybe she just wants to make a good first impression," said her mother. "Aside from that single faux-pas... which she thought was actually stating something desirable in a partner. In her culture, at least."
"Believe me," Hermione said grimly. "I'll have a chat with her about that later."
"Don't be too harsh on her sweetie," said her mother, taking her hands after sitting down at the table.
"How have you been holding up, mum?" asked Hermione.
Her mother pursed her lips slightly. "Taking it day by day. The entire lawsuit thing has been taking its mental toll, but it has always been for a good cause. I've been... looking around for other places to live. Smaller. Cheaper."
"Mum," Hermione shook her head, tears stinging in her eyes. "This... this is our home!"
"Oh, sweetie," spoke Emma. "It's fine. We've always done well with the practice, our house is worth a lot of money and the mortgage has been fully paid off. If we sell it, even if we lose most of the money towards the legal fees, we'll still be fine."
"It's not that, it's..."
"Sssh," said her mother, putting her hand on her cheek. "We have you back now. That's all that matters."
Hermione and her mother chatted for a long time after that, leaving Bellatrix and her father to bond. Still, the living room had been quiet for a while and Hermione got up to see how they were doing. What she saw when she entered the living room was surprising and endearing: Bellatrix and her father were sat on the living room sofa. Zipper had gotten down from the ceiling and was apparently sleeping on her lap. Her father was grinning, while Bellatrix herself was wild-eyed and held her mouth open in joy as she was watching whatever was on the screen.
Hermione should have recognized the sounds and the voices. On the screen, John Carpenter's The Thing was playing out.
"Hermione!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "This is GREAT!"
Hermione took one look at the screen and immediately bowed out and prepared to rush back to the kitchen. "Oh god!" she hissed. "The kennel scene!"
Though her father had tried his utmost to get Hermione to watch the entire film with him on multiple occasions, Hermione never had the stomach to get past the kennel scene. Apparently, Bellatrix had no issues with this and, judging from her expression, she was craving for more.
That was apparently all dad wanted out of a daughter-in-law: the ability to sit through the entirety of John Carpenter's The Thing. And judging from Trix' expression, watching horror with her dad would become a regular occurrence.
Wonderful… Just wonderful…
Hermione swiftly retreated to the kitchen for the remainder of the film. Though she wasn't freed from it after the film was done. In the living room, Hermione had to endure Bellatrix and her father discussing the finer details of the film and possible infection time lines. She didn't miss the expression on her mother's face either which seemed to say 'oh god, not another one'.
At was around midnight when it was finally time for bed and her mother was showing Bellatrix the guestroom. Hermione spent some time brushing her teeth and offered one wistful look to the guestroom before retreating into her own room. Normally, she'd do some reading before bed, but she simply didn't feel like it today. Hermione lay down on the bed, pulled the duvet over herself and reached over to the lamp on her nightstand.
With the room now bathed in near-complete darkness, Hermione stared at the ceiling and reflected for a moment. Honestly, she was quite happy that Bellatrix was getting along so well with her parents. To her own surprise, Bellatrix had been nothing but polite and got along particularly well with her dad. The curly-haired witch really had changed.
Changed? Compared to what? If she... Instantly, another splitting headache reared its ugly head. Did she save Bellatrix from what she would become? Or did she save Bellatrix from being murdered by her fiancee? It was... it was getting hard to think with two conflicting truths fighting for dominance in her very mind. More questioned ran through her head, the most important one being what exactly had happened to her when the time-line changed? She had conflicting memories of having lived through the events of two time-lines which were, thankfully, similar enough that she could function without a permanent migraine, but trying to remember the old time-line couldn't be good for her mental health. Was this something that would pass or would she have to suffer through this her entire life? And then there were the philosophical ramifications: was she still one person, or was she two persons forced into the same body. Two personalities forcibly integrated, perhaps. Was the original Hermione being suppressed within her own mind, screaming to get out? Did the original time-line even still exist and was it going forward without her in it? Worst thing was that there was no certainties here as her case was pretty much unique.
Perhaps it was simply a good idea to go to sleep. She turned around to lay on her side and closed her eyes. Best to get some rest. The house was so quiet now that everyone had turned in. All she could hear was the sound of her own breath and the December wind blowing past her window.
At least she had her life-sized tiger plush with her, as well as her ratty old bear Pete. Hermione fished the tiger plush from the floor and cuddled up against its softness with Pete snuggled in between them. Simply laying still.
Until there was the sound of a pop at the far end of her room. A dim light soon emerged from the tip of a wand, illuminating the smiling face of Bellatrix, clad in a black bathrobe. "Oh, come on," whispered Bellatrix after giving her a questioning look. "You must have known I'd be in here the moment the lights went out."
Bellatrix didn't come to the bed immediately. Instead, she sauntered through the room for a bit, scoping out Hermione's belongings. She let the light of her wand rove over the spines of her considerable book collection for a moment and giggled briefly when she discovered Hermione's collection of fairy figurines.
There was a pang of self-consciousness when Bellatrix picked up one of the fairy figurines. The collection was from her early years and she had always enjoyed it herself. Yet, she couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed about her 'fairy phase'.
"Well," said Bellatrix after gently putting the porcelain figure down. "I'll know what to get you for your birthday."
"So," asked Hermione, keeping her voice low. "What do you think of our house?"
"Cozy, nice," said Bellatrix. "It's a little small and cramped, but... it feels like a real home regardless. But, come on, you don't want me here to talk about your house, now do you?"
Bellatrix grinned and let the robe slide off her. Her pale skin of her naked body was illuminated by the light of her wand. "Bed's a little small and cramped too, but that's just the way I want it to be right now."
The curly-haired witch reached over to the duvet, lifted it and slipped underneath it. Hermione's bed being meant for one occupant forced her to scoot over to make enough room. "Did you cast a silencing charm?"
"No," Bellatrix smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"
"Trix!" Hermione hissed softly. "My parents are just down the corridor!"
"I can control myself, Hermie," chuckled Bellatrix, reaching over to run a hand through Hermione's long brown hair. "Question is... can you?"
Hermione let out a sigh. "Insufferable..."
"My middle name. Now get rid of the cuddle-cat and cuddle me instead," Bellatrix winked before tilting her head slightly while laying her hand on Hermione's cheek. Hermione smiled before closing her eyes to let it happen.
Bellatrix's lips were soft as honey and as welcoming as a light breeze on a hot summer day. God, she'd missed her. And this. It didn't take long for the intense sensation of feeling Trix' tongue rolling over hers. Hermione fought back in earnest, but was lost when she felt a warm body press against hers. The girls lay on their sides, sharing kisses while in a tight embrace.
Without realizing she was even doing it, she was moaning in Bellatrix' mouth. Bellatrix broke the kiss, chuckling briefly. "I'm starting to think the answer is no," she smiled.
Hermione didn't even have the proper state of mind to be indignant. Instead, she merely gazed into Bellatrix' eyes. The curly-haired witch grinned and produced her wand. "Here I am completely naked and you're still wearing that pink monstrosity. We'll have to do something about that."
The tip of her wand roved over the fabric of her pyjamas. It sent a shudder through Hermione until it moved to the front of her garment and Bellatrix slowly pulled it down, the magic undoing button after button. When her pyjamas fell open, Hermione instinctively lowered her head in embarrassment. Funny, really: they had made love multiple times and had seen each other naked on numerous occasions and yet there were some old insecurities which kept coming back.
"Pish-posh," Bellatrix snorted. "Your breasts are beautiful, Hermie."
Hermione smiled before kissing Bellatrix again. Their bodies pressed together. Hands were felt over her back, her sides, her chest. Eager fingers found her quickly hardening nipples. Soft lips and cruel teeth found the nape of her neck. Hermione, emboldened by her amorous cravings, let her own hands do some exploring. A cheeky grin crossed her features as one of her hands ran over Bellatrix' side, then raised to give her a smack on the bum. The tell-tale sound of flesh slapping on flesh resounded through the room.
And again.
And yet again.
"Filthy, dirty girl," Hermione whispered to her.
"You don't know the half of it," returned Bellatrix.
With magically enhanced strength, Bellatrix yanked Hermione's hair, causing her to grunt and shift her body. Instantly, Bellatrix pinned her down, latching onto her neck while a hand slid over her stomach. Hermione gasped when she felt eager fingers slide down the hem of her pyjama bottoms. A moan escaped her lips when said eager fingers found her loins. Pure bliss overcame her when Bellatrix found her most sensitive spot and treated her to delicious massage. Her breath quickened, her soft cries increased.
Hermione spread her legs further to make it easier for Bellatrix. Two fingers entered her. Slow, rhythmic strokes followed, quickening and slowing of pace ever so often.
"Oh..." Hermione gasped. "Oh, god..."
"Flatterer..." Bellatrix husked.
If she kept this up, she'd be falling over the edge and shouting her lungs out in a matter of seconds. Bellatrix seemed to realize this and slowed down somewhat, treating her to a few gentle kisses.
Hermione grabbed this reprieve with both hands, so to speak, gently laying her hands on Bellatrix's cheeks and kissing her back gently... only to realize that Bellatrix had wickedly betrayed her when she suddenly picked up the pace of her strokes again and assaulted her with pure fervour.
Hermione grit her teeth and grunted while trying to resist giving in to the sheer pleasure of it all finding the release of screaming her lungs out. And scream she did. Bellatrix deftly captured Hermione's mouth with her own when release finally came. Hermione arched her back, her scream muffled by Bellatrix' mouth until she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting.
But Hermione wouldn't forget this betrayal. In fact, she had picked up some tricks of her own. And, at this point, making Bellatrix pay was more important than keeping her parents from finding out they were fucking each other's brains out scant twelve feet away from them.
Bellatrix lay on her back, sweating, writhing and mewing softly as she tried to keep quiet. Granted, Bellatrix probably wasn't doing herself any favours by sliding her hands over her breasts, but Hermione wasn't about to point that out to her. With Bellatrix' thighs on either side of her, Hermione artfully tickled her with the tip of her tongue while sliding eager fingers into her lover's wetness with long, merciless strokes. Bellatrix was fighting it, Hermione could sense it. But she was still losing ground with every swirl of her tongue and every crook of her fingers. She could see Bellatrix grit her teeth and snort through her nose as the exertions to stay afloat threatened to overwhelm her. Her little mews were getting louder and louder.
Hermione's own arousal was apparent, and her free hand found its way down her own stomach to give rise to some pleasure for herself.
Bellatrix arched her back and, at one point, clamped her own thighs shut around Hermione's head after losing control. However, the curly-haired witch did have enough control to yank a pillow over her own face just as her body spasmed and she released a scream now muffled by said pillow.
A moment later, the two girls were facing each other, smiling and kissing as they pressed their drenched bodies together.
"Hah," Bellatrix whispered. "Filthy, naughty girl."
"I was taught by the best," Hermione grinned, running a hand through black curly hair.
"I'm glad your parents like me."
"If they find you naked and sweaty in my bed, they might not like you that much."
"Good thing we kept it quiet then," said Bellatrix. "Also, am I to interpret that as you not wanting me naked in your bed right now? Perhaps I should return to the guest-"
"Stay!" Hermione demanded sternly.
Bellatrix grinned. "I thought so," she said and followed up with some eager cuddles.
Some brief giggles later, the girls drifted off to a blissful and well-deserved sleep.
Chapter 34: DistrustChapter TextCygnus Black sauntered through the darkened halls of Catterborough Woodhouse, a lumosed wand in one hand while gripping his cane in the other. The sound of the setting wood and the wind blasting past the windows were only interrupted by the sharp tap of his cane onto the ground in the empty corridors. He had told Druella that we has going out for a brief stroll through the east wing to loosen his stiff old bones. While true, he had a very different goal in mind.
His suspicions were confirmed when he approached the main office and found lights pouring into the hallway through the glass panes of the double doors. Cygnus approached and opened the doors. In the luxurious and grand office which had once been his, now sat Andromeda, among the portraits of celebrated previous Heads of the Household and behind a heavy oaken desk. His middle daughter was intently pouring over stacks of papers strewn across the desk. Andromeda raised her hand, acknowledging his presence without looking up from her work.
Cygnus stepped over to the desk, his cane clicking on the marble floor. He stood behind her and watched over her shoulder. There were stacks of surveillance reports going back all the way back to 1979. Apparently, she had received a new one today and Andromeda had been comparing notes. The name 'Hermione Granger' appeared on each and every one.
He sighed. After years upon years, Andromeda was still looking for patterns.
"You are still having the girl watched?" Cygnus asked, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing a little, fingers sliding over the velvet fabric of her finery.
"The little minx cannot enjoy a meal without every bite being duly registered and reported back to me. As it has always been," Andromeda returned. The coldness in her voice did not surprise him, but it worried him nonetheless.
"Andromeda," he said. "Don't make the same mistakes I made."
"Father?"
"If you are always looking for sharks in the water," he said. "You'll eventually start seeing them. Even when they're not there."
Andromeda sat back and sighed. "But it is there, father! I know there is!" she got up from her seat and walked over to the blackboard stood next to her desk. On it were sequences of key events in the lives of both Hermione Granger from 1979 until now, and Bella's from 1951 until 1968. All of them were tied together with notes and velvet red ribbons. "Don't you see, it's all connected! And Hermione Granger is the cause of it all! She is the reason for all of our family's woes! I know it! You can see it! Right there, on the board! The only thing I still can't figure out is the motive! The why of it! I feel it is just out of my grasp, but it somehow still always manages to elude me."
Cygnus smiled briefly. "Did you know your mother spent the entirety of the evening watching Bellatrix through the scrying bowl? I could not tear her away from it until I convinced her that Bella might balk at knowing that her mother watched her make love to her girlfriend."
"Girlfriend..." Andromeda all but snarled. "She clutches a viper to her chest! She's simply too blinded by her feelings to see it!"
"Andromeda," spoke Cygnus, his tone soft. "You are so obsessed with the past that you cannot see the present."
Andromeda shook her head. "If Achille hadn't given her those rituals, none of this would have happened! Bella would have never left us!"
"Who is to say that would have been better for us? Or for Bella?" smiled Cygnus. He sauntered through the office where hung several portraits of his ancestors, the most revered heads of House Black through their long and ancient history. "Andromeda. One day, your portrait will hang in this office. And future generations will see you as the one who brought forth House Black's renaissance, the one who changed the tide of steady decline and brought us a new future. You and Nymphadora. I firmly believe her portrait will hang next to yours."
Andromeda sighed. "Nymphadora's so stoned out of her gourd that she doesn't realize she's alive half of the time. Maybe Narcissa was right all along…"
"Hah," Cygnus laughed. "I was the youngest brother of a secondary branch in a wealthy family whose obligations were none for the longest time. You should have seen me in my youngest days. Nymphadora will step up to the plate. Like I did. Like you did."
"I merely kept us afloat," Andromeda shook her head.
"Did you? You repaired the relationship with our Montana siblings which Orion destroyed. You built bridges, made alliances, grew our reputation. You've brought new blood to our household which it desperately needed. New blood we need more of."
"No! NOT HER!" Andromeda said, pointing at a photograph taped on the board of Hermione and Bellatrix sitting in what looked to be the living room of a muggle home. "This! This cannot be allowed to continue!"
Cygnus pointed over to her desk. "Is that why... that is out of your drawer? Don't think I didn't see it."
Andromeda fell silent, instinctively looking away from her desk. Shame was etched on her gentle features. Shame that she was actually considering it again. Cygnus was happy for it. "If you cross that line it can never be uncrossed. And Bella will never forgive you if it comes out. Andromeda, if you do this, if you willfully take a life, you will never be the same again afterwards. Believe me, I know."
A flurry of memories of war and death flooded to the surface, still haunting him and would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. Andromeda's heart was full of hate for Hermione and if it continued to cloud her judgment… well, he'd have to find a way to prevent that.
For on the desk lay a contract made with some very shady and discrete people. A contract Andromeda only had to sign. And when signed, those same very shady and discrete people would make Hermione Granger disappear forever.
"It's a last resort," Andromeda whispered. "For when I can't figure it out. I... I should have stopped it!"
Tears burst from her eyes while her body shook with sobs. Her father was upon her, giving her a firm embrace. "I..." she sniffed. "I knew something was wrong, back in 1968. I knew Bella was doing something with shady that girl and I did nothing. Nothing! Until it was too late and she was gone!"
"Bella's disappearance brought our family a lot of pain. And this?" Cygnus replied and motioned towards her desk, the assassination order and the board. "All this, is simply an outlet for yours."
Andromeda said nothing, instead letting out a heavy sigh. She looked at the blackboard one more time. "It's just... I feel I'm so close."
"Come," said Cygnus. "I will mix you a potion to help you sleep. You look like you could use it."
"But..." Andromeda started to say, looking back at the board.
Cygnus smiled at her. "Andie," he said. "If you're really interested in finding the girl's motivation, why don't you simply ask her?"
Andromeda shook her head. "It can't be that simple, father."
"You'd be surprised."
It was Hermione who woke up first when the sun broke through the window. Her eyes fluttered open and her first sight of the morning was Bellatrix. She lay on her back, still sleeping and the duvet only covering her to the waistline, a head of messy curls smushed into her pillow. Hermione smiled and couldn't resist running her hand over her stomach and admire Bellatrix' beauty as she lay next to her.
Two of the loveliest round breasts. Toned arms and legs of a Quidditch player and a flat stomach with that cute birthmark just above her navel. She watched Bellatrix' chest rise and fall rhythmically as she slept. Such a look of innocence on her face.
Hermione smiled and cuddled up against her, pressing into her side and laying her head on her shoulder before pulling the duvet over them both. Bellatrix, for her part, shifted slightly to give Hermione a better perch. "Trix?" Hermione whispered. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
There was no answer from the sleeping girl, of course.
Hermione sighed. That probably would have had a better result if Bellatrix had already been awake. Though she doubted she would have the courage to say it to her face. At least, not yet.
Instead she continued cuddling up again the girl, enjoyed her warmth and snoozed a little longer. So nice. In fact, she almost didn't notice the fact that the door to her room creaked open. "Hermione?" sounded through her sleep drunken haze. "It's nine o'clock. Time to... oh."
Oh god.
Her mum.
Suddenly wide awake, Hermione turned her head just to see the door close again and, judging from the angle, there was absolutely zero chance that her mother had not seen an unclothed Bellatrix in her bed. Hermione simply lay down on her back and sighed. Best to bite the bullet.
After pecking her on the cheek, Hermione left Bellatrix in her room still sleeping and went through her morning ritual of shower, brushing her teeth and brushing her hair. Still clad in her bathrobe, she made her way to the kitchen where her mother was making breakfast. It was a moment Hermione had been dreading and an awkward silence followed while Hermione was making her morning tea.
"So," Emma Granger finally broke the silence. "Did you and Bellatrix have a very fruitful night?"
"Mum!" Hermione hissed, her face quickly turning beet red.
"I jest, I jest," spoke Emma Granger. "Sweetie, you are simply too tempting a target. Is Bellatrix not up yet?"
Hermione shook her head.
"But it's almost ten o'clock!" chuckled her mother. "My, you must have kept her busy last night."
Again, Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Mum!" she hissed.
"Right, right, right," her mother raised her hands while grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Your father and I already had breakfast, but there's still tea in the pot and still plenty of fresh bread to toast."
"Yeah, sorry," Hermione shrugged. "We didn't exactly set an alarm clock."
"Just be careful your father doesn't claim all her time," her mother chuckled. "He has plenty of horror films to introduce her to. I've heard him mentioning 'Hellraiser'."
Thankfully, Hermione wouldn't have to wait for Bellatrix very long. The girl, freshly washed up and clad in her finery, descended down the stairs to join her at the breakfast table. Together, the girls chatted a bit over tea and toast, all the while engaging in some sultry hand holding underneath the table.
Today felt like it would be a quiet day, at the least. She knew she would be going with Bellatrix to her home to meet her family. Hermione was about to ask if that would happen today or tomorrow when she heard the doorbell ringing. At first, she ignored it, thinking it was Mrs. Miggins from next door coming in to have a chat with mum. When her mum opened the door, however, a familiar voice sounded from the front door.
"Is she here?" sounded the voice of Ron Weasley. "May I see her?"
Instantly, and startling Bellatrix, Hermione rose from her seat and shouted into the hallway. "RON!"
The next thing she knew, she was being bull-rushed and taken into a firm embrace. Two strong arms swept her up and refused to let go. "Hermione," she heard Ron say. "I've looked for you. For years."
"Sorry, Ron," Hermione muttered back.
"Just glad you're safe," said Ron. "Got here as soon as I could. Harry is still in Poland following a lead, but he'll come to see you as soon. It's so good to see you, Hermione."
"You too, Ron," replied Hermione. "I have so much to tell you."
Hermione looked over Ron's shoulders while they embraced and saw Bellatrix had stood up next to the table. The curly-haired witch was giving the both of them no small amount of scrutiny. With the way her eyes were spread open and her lips were pursed, it was rather obvious that Bellatrix had received a visit from the green-eyed monster.
For the first time, Ron noticed that there was someone else in the room with them. He released her from the embrace and turned to Bellatrix. Bellatrix was now glaring at Ron, raising her chin rather imperiously. She was sizing him up, challenging him. However, Ron had a far more soft and even somewhat starstruck expression.
"Blimey," he said. "You're her. You're really her!"
"Trix," Hermione spoke rather uneasily. "This is Ronald Weasley, my..."
"Ex-boyfriend," Bellatrix finished for her. "And I am Bellatrix Black. Hermione's girlfriend." Of course, Bellatrix would make a big deal out of this. Of course, Ron being Ron, he didn't exactly seem to notice.
"Oh, yes," replied Ron. "I've seen the papers. Everyone has seen the papers. And literally everyone is talking about you two. I'm surprised the press hasn't swamped you yet."
"Great," Hermione sighed. "And the wizarding tabloid press is even worse than the UK muggle tabloid press."
Bellatrix still had her eyes fixed on Ron, but seemed to relent a little. Ron smiled that goofy grin of his. "I can't believe it's really you," said Ron. "Mum's going to be so jealous."
Bellatrix cocked her head sideways, regarding her 'rival' suspiciously. Of course she would, as that was usually her reaction to meeting new people. "Why are you so interested in me?" she asked.
"May 1967," Ron grinned. "The last Quidditch game of the year. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The game that will decide the winner of the annual Quidditch Trophy. Not only that, but the number of house points between the two houses is so close that the house cup is riding on the outcome of this. After a brutal and gruelling match, where both teams have lost two players to injury, the score is 20-20 and there's only thirty seconds left on the clock. Adrian Thunderhawk, Gryffindor seeker is about to catch the golden snitch and decide the match. Then, out of nowhere, the Slytherin star chaser shoots out of left-field like a green comet! She buzzes past Adrian, almost knocking him off his broom and making him lose track of the snitch. Then, she makes a beeline for the quaffe and steals it from Gryffindor chaser Amy Radic, knocking her off the broom in the process. With the quaffe in hand and being chased by the entirety of the Gryffindor team, she races towards the nearest hoop, ducking and diving to avoid them. Then, she makes a barrel-roll to avoid the keeper and throws the ball through the hoop to the cheers of the audience and the shock and horror of the Gryffindors. And so, with two seconds left on the clock, Bellatrix Black won not only the match, but the entire year and the house cup. All for Slytherin."
Ah, that explained by Ron was so starstruck. When it came to matters of Quidditch, Ron did know his business. For her part, Bellatrix seemed to have relaxed considerably, smiling even. The curly-haired witch nodded. "Gryffindors whined all through the next schoolyear over that. They were rather sore losers."
"I'm no fan of Slytherin," said Ron, resolutely. "But you won that match fair and square. Hell, dad can't shut up about what a grand shock it was. And how good a move."
"They're still talking about it?" asked Bellatrix. "After more than thirty years?"
Ron reached into his bag and reached out a leather-bound book. Hermione watched in fascination as Ron handed it to Bellatrix. "I brought this for you. I wasn't sure if Hermione owned a copy. Figured you might want to catch up after, well, skipping thirty-three years. Heh, you missed the entire series of misadventures of Lord Moldyshorts. Lucky you, ey?"
After a frowning Bellatrix opened the book, Hermione could read the title: 'The short and tragic life of Bellatrix Black. By Newt Scamander. Foreword by Minerva McGonagall'. There was a childhood picture of Bellatrix on the cover. Hermione remembered reading that book… wait. No. No, she didn't. Ah, there was that headache again.
"Newt Scamander?" asked Bellatrix. "The magi-zoologist?"
"The story I just told is also described vividly in the book," said Ron. "Mister Scamander has always been fascinated by your case and wrote this book: the most comprehensive guide to your life and the mystery behind your disappearance. Scamander had access to family records and interviewed family members, friends, classmates, police, press, you name it. It's the only authorized biography to date. Hah, I bet he'd love to meet you, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix, for her part, seemed a little at a loss for words. She leafed through the book, reading bits and bobs before skimming to another page. She was still with her nose in the book when Hermione's father came into the kitchen and shook Ron's hand. "Ah, good to see you again, lad," he greeted. The Grangers, Ron and Bellatrix, who still had her eyes glued to the book, went to the living room to sit near the warm fireplace on comfortable sofas. Hermione did feel content being surrounded by family and loved ones in a place that felt safe. It cut her to the very bone that there was a real chance that she could very much lose this house forever.
"Ron has been kind enough to come visit," said Emma. "To keep us in touch of happenings in the wizarding world or just... chat with us to keep us company."
"Eh," Ron shrugged. "When the lawsuit started, the Ministry ordered me to break off all contact with the Grangers. Well... 'order' is a bit of a strong word. It was more of an 'firm suggestion'. But they really can't decide how I spend my free time and as long as I'm not sharing anything confidential there isn't much they can do about it."
"Oh, you rebel," Hermione chuckled. "Thanks for keeping an eye on my parents."
"Not a problem at all," said Ron.
"I am curious, though," asked Hermione. "Were you assigned to my case? My disappearance?"
"As the auror who first discovered the 'crime', I was," said Ron. "We found all your notes, books and research. It was obvious that you had been performing blood rites. Frowned upon, but not illegal until you use someone else's blood and there was no sign of that. And then there was the borderline obsession with Bellatrix Black. We consulted experts on blood magic, but gained nothing conclusive as whatever you had developed was something completely new. Some of the books we found were from the Black family library and we, of course, searched the premises after a month-long legal battle with Andromeda Black. To our astonishment, the books were there at the library, never touched since the sixties."
"Yeah," Hermione chuckled. "Bellatrix sent me books from the past. Copies of them."
"We never made that connection," said Ron. "And the case went cold. Technically, it's still open. And so Bellatrix' case. There's a lot of people at the Ministry who are desperate to talk to you both. From all Departments."
"Hah, I bet," Bellatrix rolled her eyes.
"Andromeda Black. Again," Ron chuckled. "That woman is a relentless harpy. She's using her considerable influence to stonewall everyone. But it's only a matter of time. As for you, Hermione, be prepared for some difficult interviews and remember to bring that classic Hermione stubbornness with you. I think you're going to need it."
Hermione nodded briefly. "I really got myself into a mess this time, haven't I?"
Ron smirked. "Hey, as long as barmy dark wizards, ancient basilisks or Ministry take-overs aren't involved, it can't be worse than we've already been through."
Meanwhile, Bellatrix had still been leafing through the book and, for the first time, she started whispering softly. "Evie," she spoke. "He even talked to Evie. She... she... It wasn't just a fling for her. We..."
Seeing Bellatrix' eyes going slightly watery over some undoubtedly nice words her ex-girlfriend had to say about her made it Hermione's turn to be jealous. It was an odd feeling, really. But Hermione had consider that while Evelyn Greengrass was Bellatrix' past, she was her future.
"McGonagall... says such nice things about me," Bellatrix muttered. "Merlin, I was such a brat... and still..."
"Keep the book," said Ron. "Mum has another copy. She's probably one of your biggest fans too. Say, if you ever want to stop by the burrow for a quiet chat, you'll be most welcome. But do expect a lot of gushing and being completely and utterly stuffed full of food."
Bellatrix looked up, closing the book for now. "I'll... I'll keep that in mind."
"So anyway, after your case went cold and the search parties stopped searching, I was put back on the Death Eater hunt," said Ron.
"How is that going?" asked Hermione.
"We caught all of them by now, except one," said Ron. "Rodolphus Lestrange."
"Rodolphus?!" Bellatrix blinked.
"Aye," Ron snorted. "We've been all over Europe, but that unhinged madman is always one step ahead of us. Sorry, Hermione. We're trying out best to catch him."
Hermione closed her eyes and, for a moment, she was back on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Rodolphus standing over her, landing blow after blow after blow upon her. Funny how someone so big on magic supremacy would be so eager to use brute physical violence to torture her. God, she'd been so black and blue after that, she could barely move without pain. Immediately, the images mixed with the elder Bellatrix hovering over her, inflicting pain through vile magics. Taking a dagger to her skin. A headache started to form already, along with plenty of heartache. She pushed it down quickly.
"Puppet," asked her father. "Are you alright? You were miles away there for a moment."
Hermione simply smiled, reached one hand over to Bellatrix and one to Ron, squeezing them both. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm sure you're doing your best."
"Frustratingly enough," sighed Ron. "We almost had him in Liputsk. That's in Russia, by the way. The only reason why he escaped was because the Russian Ministry really doesn't like foreign aurors operating on their soil. While we were dealing with the paperwork, he gave us the slip."
"What do you know?" Bellatrix chuckled. "To discover that Rodolphus is finally good at something. And that thing is running away."
"I've been to the profiling sessions," said Ron. "Chilling stuff. To think you were almost married to the bloke. Ugh."
"Well said," Bellatrix returned.
Emma Granger had apparently noticed some commotion and moved to look out of the bay windows. Almost immediately, she froze and turned around. "Jack?" she sighed. "There's journos in front of our house again. There's a lot more this time."
"Again?" Hermione was almost afraid to ask.
"Oh, bollocks," Jack sighed. "They must be here for you, puppet. Or Bellatrix. Or both."
"Someone must have spilled the beans," said Ron, moving to the window to canvas the situation before springing to action. "I know what just what to do."
Ron asked her mother to bring them two large beach towels which were then promptly folded neatly over both her head and that of Bellatrix. "Right," said Ron. "As soon as the door opens, just keep your head down and run forward. We head for the portkey hub in the Heath. Just run and keep running. Ignore all of them and just focus on getting to the portkey."
"Why can't we just apparate?" Bellatrix demanded sternly while ordering Zipper to come down from the ceiling and going into her bag. The wasp's head popped out once to look around playfully before the curly-haired witch zipped it tight.
"I put up a strong anti-apparation jinx along the entire street," said Ron. "Before I did, journos were apparating into the Grangers' house to go through their things."
"Nice to to know wizarding journalism is still decidedly yellow!" Hermione snapped.
Before leaving, she still had to take a moment to take both her parents into a three-way hug. "I love you both," said Hermione. "So very much."
"See you soon, puppet," spoke her father.
"And stop time-travelling, dear," spoke her mother, in half-jest.
Ron was looking rather grimly at the three of them stood in front of the front door. "Right," he said. "Ready?"
Before either girl could answer, he put his hands on both the back of their hands and pushed them down a little. Jack Granger opened the front door and the three of them went out running. Immediately, there was a flurry of activity as in between forty and fifty journos sprung into action all at once. A cacophony of questions in multiple languages assaulted them, followed by endless clicking and flashes. "AUROR BUSINESS! MOVE ASIDE! MOVE ASIDE!" she heard Ron shout and put some sort of magic field around them to nudge people out of the way. From there it was just a mad dash to the Heath with dozens upon dozens of journos in tow, still taking pictures, still shouting their questions. Hermione heard laughter. Bellatrix' laughter. God, she was actually enjoying herself. She supposed it was good at least one person did.
It was a blessed relief when they finally reached the portkey hub, which Ron operated. The sensation of being forced into a thin rubber tube overcame her and, after landing, it happened again almost immediately as Ron apparated them away to some place in the countryside she didn't recognize.
Bellatrix took off the towel and blew out a load of air. "Wow. So that was a thing."
"Quite," said Hermione after removing her own towel.
"Expect more of this," said Ron with an apologetic smile.
"Right," said Bellatrix. "We're off to Catterborough Woodhouse. No way in hell any journo is coming near my ancestral home."
"I hope you're right," sighed Hermione.
"Well…" Ron gave them a goofy grin. "There's somewhere else you could go first…"