Chapter 3: YearbooksChapter TextThe library was still one of Hermione's favourite places at Hogwarts. Being surrounded by so many books, so much history and the smell of ancient magically preserved paper soothed her and reminded her of a more simpler time in her life. A more innocent time.
But Hermione wasn't here for study or recreation today: she was in an oft overlooked section of the library. The school archive contained records, photographs, yearbooks and accounts of students going as far back as Hogwarts' founding in 993. It had been a bit of a chore to actually find the old records and yearbooks of 1968 as madam Prince had been in the process of optimizing the archive for the past weeks and was only making slow progress. Everything had been put in boxes ready to be sorted into the school archive: unfortunately, the boxes had been rather poorly marked. Sorting through it all had taken her far longer than she would have liked.
Once she did eventually track down the files from 1968, it didn't take her long to find Bellatrix Black's records. From the look of things, Bellatrix had graduated with full honours, having achieved an 'Outstanding' grade on her NEWTs in no less than nine subjects. Two more than the seven Hermione had picked. One of the filed records was actually her final Arithmancy thesis, spread out over three scrolls. She unfurled them and glanced through it, only to be instantly enthralled. In her thesis, Bellatrix postulated that the certainly magical properties of numbers could shape reality of those calculating with them, which could in turn affect the magical properties of said numbers after reality had been reshaped. Hermione was woman enough to admit that the subject almost went over her head, but the calculations Bellatrix provided to prove her thesis all checked out and were stunningly precise.
This thesis was undeniably a work of brilliance, once Hermione had managed to wrap her head about the concept of high density randomness zones and low density void zones. If this was but one of her works, the word prodigy wouldn't even begin to describe Bellatrix.
Then again, unlike Hermione, Bellatrix had a list of reprimands as long as her arm. Mostly minor things such as pranks, general disruptive behaviour or simply not turning up for class at all. She was a troublemaker… a troublemaker who had graduated with full honours. It had all of the hallmarks of a person too clever for the courses and getting bored in class as a result.
Then to the yearbook. She flipped through the yellowed pages until she came to the Slytherin part of the book. First was the photograph of the Slytherin Quidditch team, where Bellatrix was one of the chasers. She stood there, leaning on her broom in her green tunic and leather limb protectors, smiling at the camera. Bellatrix seemed happy in this photograph, vibrant and full of life.
A stark contrast with her end-of-year class photograph, where she and her fellow Slytherins sat for the photo holding their well-earned diploma's. She looked dour, miserable and bereft of any joy.
"What happened to you?" Hermione whispered to herself.
She flipped through more pages and spotted Bellatrix in a few more photographs. Flying broomstick with two others girls, younger. It took her a while to identify them as the Black sisters. Then there was a photograph of her at Herbology... it seemed odd to see someone like Bellatrix, a rich pure-blood aristocrat, sat on her knees digging in the dirt to look for blisterwort roots. Another photograph showed her on top of the Astronomy tower with a few Slytherins. She studied the photograph intently, trying to figure out why Bellatrix was looking so... forlorn.
"Ah, miss Granger. I figured you'd be here," sounded the voice of McGonagall as she stepped into the archive. "Once you go missing, you will turn up in the library sooner rather than later."
"Professor?" Hermione looked up, but instantly closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "We had an appointment..." she muttered to herself. "I'm so sorry, it completely slipped my mind."
"Though I suspect you will be inundated with job offers the moment you graduate," McGonagall said, a slight hint of a smile on her face. "That does not diminish the need for career advice. In fact, it should make it all the more poignant."
"Again, I'm so sorry," replied Hermione. "I completely lost track of time."
McGonagall looked over her shoulder, apparently glancing at the yearbook. Some concern was etched on her face. "Are you having more nightmares, miss Granger?" she asked gently.
Hermione pursed her lips. How to breach the subject? "I... was just wondering," Hermione asked. "Some of her work was in the file. Groundbreaking work, stuff I can barely wrap my head around. She was a genius."
McGonagall's gaze became somewhat distant. "That she was. Undeniably so."
"You knew her when she was a student, right?" asked Hermione. "What was she like back then?"
McGonagall took a seat and sat down at the side of the desk to look Hermione in the eye. "Miss Black was... a regular seventeen year old girl in many regards. Brilliant, certainly. She earned the title Brightest Witch of her Age ten times over, which is probably why You-Know-Who was so interested in recruiting her."
You-Know-Who. Even with Voldemort being confirmed dead, many wizards and witches still referred to him in that way. She supposed some habits were hard to shake.
"However, she was also quite the troublemaker," said McGonagall. "Sometimes smart people are that way when they lack challenge. She was passionate and bold. Even somewhat of a romantic."
"Bellatrix Lestrange? A romantic?" Hermione frowned. "That's the last thing I would describe her as."
"Hm," McGonagall nodded. "There was great sadness within her. However, unlike you, miss Granger, she actually attended her career advice sessions."
"Ouch," Hermione sighed, but smiled when she saw a twinkle in McGonagall's eye.
"Miss Black told me often and passionately about all the things she would love to do with her life," said McGonagall. "She wanted to be an explorer and travel the Earth in search of new lands and new discoveries. At one point, she wanted to be a monster hunter. I admit that was a new one for me and one I haven't heard since. During her later years, she focused on more creative outlets such as painting or writing. Though her interests lay decidedly among the disturbing and macabre, the stories she did show me were certainly well-crafted. And, well, time spent working on her horrific tales was time not spent being setting the Gryffindor house banners on fire. Starting from her seventh year, however..."
"Yes?" Hermione asked.
McGonagall pursed her lips. "It is a terrible thing, being asked to sacrifice one's own happiness and wishes for the sake of a failing ideal. She came in only once and that was basically to tell me that any further appointments would be pointless, as there would be no career for her in her future. This was a day after her impending marriage had been widely announced in the Daily Prophet. I had never seen her so sad and bereft of passion."
Hermione pursed her lips and blew out a sigh through her teeth. "Arranged marriages..."
"I've heard of love growing from an arranged marriage, certainly," replied McGonagall. "But just as often, it does not."
Hermione nodded. "What do you think turned her into the monster she became?" she asked. "Could it be this?"
McGonagall shook her head. "I don't think it was any one thing, miss Granger," she said. "Ultimately, Bellatrix is responsible for her own choices in life. Perhaps it was through You-Know-Who where she hoped to gain the freedom and exciting life she craved. Perhaps having to sacrifice her own wishes embittered her to a point she started to resent others. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. I have no doubt that, in another life, she could have been a great witch known for exploring the darkest of Africa or weaving the most wondrous of tales."
"But instead it was not to be," said Hermione. "Instead she became known as a dangerous murderer, wielding the darkest of arts."
"Fact remains that she was not so different from you and I at one point. It is a reminder that any one of us can be capable of falling into great darkness. A sobering thought, perhaps."
"I've been thinking of her a lot as of late," said Hermione.
"I don't blame you," replied McGonagall. "But don't forget that she is beyond harming you."
"Is she?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
McGonagall put a hand on her shoulder. "We've all suffered through this war, miss Granger," she said. "Perhaps it is time to let go, hm? Shall I reschedule our appointment?"
"Please do," said Hermione. "I'm not exactly in the right state of mind for it at the moment."
"Perhaps you should take some time off," said McGonagall. "Spend some time with your family."
"I would like that," said Hermione. "I'll think about it."
After McGonagall left her in the archive, Hermione spent some time watching one last photograph. One of Bellatrix at the duelling club. Though the picture only captured a brief moment of the duel, it was obvious that she was relentless and focused, wiping the floor with her opponent. Even then, it was clear she could be deadly.
Was she playing with fire by talking to the younger Bellatrix? She didn't quite know why she didn't tell McGonagall about the magic pool or her contact with the young Bellatrix. There was something alluring about having a secret and... there was something about young Bellatrix which intrigued her, even though she couldn't lay a finger on it.
Tonight, she would see her again and, to be honest, the idea of sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night felt exciting to her. Almost as exciting as talking to Bellatrix again.
After packing her bag and replacing the books in the archive where she had found them, Hermione exited the library and headed over to her dorm for an exciting afternoon of studying. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get far. A few steps out of the library, she rather absent-mindedly rounded the corner and found her way blocked by an arm stretched from the wall to its owner: Cormac McLaggen.
The boy who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
Hermione supposed she was partly to blame for this situation: a year ago, she had asked the boy to accompany him to a gathering of the Slug Club for the sole reason of making Ron jealous. It was one of stupidest soap-opera like ideas she had ever had and was still paying the price for it. He was arrogant, self-absorbed and, unfortunately, rather over-assertive when it came to romantic endeavours. And he quite fancied her, a feeling which was certainly not mutual.
He had been so obsessed with Quidditch that he sacrificed his schoolwork and actually had to be held back a year. Unfortunately, that meant Hermione was forced to spend a lot of classes with him. She'd caught her staring at her from a distance more than once. Though Hermione had little to no romantic attention, the way Cormac was overdoing it was more than a little disturbing.
"Hhhherrrmione," the wire-haired boy grinned his usual grin. "When are you going to stop playing hard to get, hm?"
Hermione let out a sigh. "McLaggen. I am not in the mood for you today. Please let me go on my way."
McLaggen sidled forward, placing his other arm to the wall as well and trapping Hermione between his two arms. The way he bent forward rather disturbed Hermione. "I said 'no'," said Hermione, trying to be assertive, but hearing her voice crack a little. Something about this was way too familiar about the time... the time Bellatrix had her trapped on the floor of Malfoy Manor, pitting her down, leering over her... hurting her.
Hermione looked up at him, anger in her eyes. With all the energy she could muster, she grit her teeth and hissed. "Let... me... go..."
"Come on, Hermione, you don't know what you want," chuckled Cormac. "Let me treat you to a good time. Don't you get it, we're such a good match. You the brains and the beauty, I the brawn and the power."
Hermione bristled. "McLaggen. For the last time. 'NO!'. Is that so hard to understand?!"
"Come on, Hermione," McLaggen showed that toothy grin of his. "You still owe me for the mistletoe at the Slug Club Christmas party."
Hermione was sure that, in his mind, he was a suave and sophisticated Casanova who meant to sweep her off her feet with his witty and clever banter. In reality, McLaggen simply didn't realize that he was being a boorish lout who had been trying to use that mistletoe-fact against her every since they'd both returned to school and, despite having been told off many times before, simply refused to learn. So, she would endeavour to tell him again.
"McLaggen," Hermione sighed. "Enough. Just... enough! I'm not interested! Get it through that thick skull of yours that standing under the mistletoe almost two years ago doesn't give you any legal rights to whatever it is you have on your mind! So stop being so forward and take a hint! NO MEANS NO!"
"Oh, Hermione," Cormac laughed, once again proving that he wasn't able to take a hint. "You just don't know what you want. I'd be happy to help you decide."
What happened next was a flurry of happenings and it went by so fast that it took Hermione a few moments to reconstruct what had happened. In the end, Cormac ended up sprawled on the floor rubbing his painful jaw, giving Hermione a chance to recover from the claustrophobic experience. The person whom had delivered the punch was no other than Ron, now standing over him and glowering. "Hermione told you to leave her alone," Ron snarled.
"What the hell?!" Cormac grunted as he scrambled to his feet. "You've had your chance, Weasley! She rejected you, so step aside for someone else!"
"Get lost, McLaggen!" Ron narrowed his eyes. "Hermione is my friend and if I see you near her again, I swear I'll do more than just punch you out on your arse!"
Apparently, McLaggen finally gained enough understanding of the situation to take the hint and, after a bit of grumbling, took off into the corridor. Ron turned Hermione. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yeah," Hermione lied. Honestly, she was quite shaken up from the experience. Not so much because of Cormac's antics, but rather about the flashback it had given her. The flashback of Bellatrix torturing her on the cold floor of Malfoy Manor. Still, she tried to keep a brave face on, more for Ron's sake than for her own. "I'll be fine," she lied.
Together, the two of them walked over to the Great Hall and sat down at on the tables. "What brings you here, Ron?" asked Hermione after pouring them both some drinks.
"Auror stuff," said Ron. "Tagging along with Savage and Proudfoot to the Hog's Head here in Hogsmeade. One of the locals had a potential lead on Rodolphus Lestrange. Found out I'm not really all that good at interrogating people. Savage says I still have a lot to learn, but I'll get there eventually. Figured I'd step in for a visit to see how you were doing."
Hermione gave him a smile and a nod: she was grateful to catch up with an old friend. Truth be told, she missed him and Harry. She missed the friendship and companionship. Her seventh year was shaping up to be a very quiet one without her friends.
"Why did you even even return to this miserable place?" Ron laughed. "You should have become an auror with us. The three of us together at the auror office would have made us unstoppable."
"Ah, you know me," said Hermione. "I hate to leave something unfinished. Besides, I'm not sure being an auror is for me. Honestly, I'm not quite sure what I want to do with my life yet. Been trying to figure out what I want to do."
"I think you can do everything you want to do, Hermione," Ron shrugged.
"I'm more concerned about so many Death Eaters still being at large," said Hermione.
"Eh," Ron shrugged. "We've tracked down quite a few, but others like Dolohov or Lestrange? It seems they've fallen right off the Earth. But don't worry, we'll find them. Without Voldemort, they're just regular run-of-the-mill dark wizards. Are you sure you're alright, Hermione? You do look a bit tired."
"I haven't been sleeping well," Hermione replied.
"Nightmares?" Ron asked. Hah, her friend knew her well.
"Been thinking about Bellatrix a lot lately."
"Bellatrix?! That foul harpy?" Ron snorted. "Though, yeah, I'd say I know why you'd have nightmares then."
"You ever wonder, Ron?" Hermione asked. "You ever wonder what could make someone become someone like her?"
"Sometimes," said Ron. "I don't believe people are born pure evil. But I do think that there must always have been something bad within her. Regular people just don't become... her."
Hermione pursed her lips, losing herself in thought. "Perhaps. I'd like to think that, at some point, Bellatrix was just another teenager, just like us, with hopes and dreams and wants. And then something... I... I don't really know... It just makes me sad."
Ron regarded her for a moment and put her hand on hers. "Hermione, why don't you ask McGonagall to give you a few days off school and come back to the Burrow. You'll be among good company, and enjoy some delicious home cooking and, best of all, just have some time to relax."
"I don't think your mum will like having me around," Hermione gave him a half-smile. "She still thinks I dumped you."
"Nonsense," said Ron. "We all still love you and would enjoy having you around. I'll handle my mum should she get a bit crabby. We both decided to part as friends. Everybody knows that. It was even in the papers thanks to that Skeeter bint."
Hermione bit her lip for a moment. "I don't know..."
Ron laughed. "McLaggen was right about one thing: you really don't know what you want."
The young witch let that statement rattle through her head for a moment, and sighed when she could only agree. "I finally have enough time to stop and think. And I have a tendency to over-think. You're right. I have no idea what I want. Still, I do know what I don't want."
"Which is?"
"Having McLaggen slobber all over me like an over-eager Saint Bernard," Hermione chuckled briefly.
"Hah," said Ron. "Comparing McLaggen to a Saint Bernard is an insult to such a noble breed of dogs."
"Yes," Hermione laughed. "At least the dogs are actually cute. Thanks Ron."
"For what?"
"Making me laugh."
"Any time," said Ron before patting Hermione on the hand and getting up to leave. "Remember, my offer stands."
Hermione seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Ron? Could I ask you something?"
"Hm?" Ron turned around, waiting for Hermione to speak.
"Speaking... completely hypothetically, of course," Hermione bit her lip. "Say that you suddenly had the opportunity to... speak to someone in the past. To talk to them. To get to know them. To maybe... change an outcome you know is a bad one. Would you do it?"
Ron frowned at first, mulling it over for a bit. "Hm," he muttered. "Change someone's fate, you mean? But how would you be sure the new outcome would be any better?"
Hermione nodded as she considered that response. As she watched Ron leave, Hermione had definitely been left with some food for thought.
After a rather riveting afternoon of grading transfiguration essays, Minerva McGonagall felt the need to catch some fresh air. Her office, located in the Turris Magnus, was conveniently located near the top of the tower where there was a high parapet looking over the lake before. This was off-limits to students and only she and Filch had the key. Perfect for spending some time alone with her own thoughts before heading back down to the Great Hall for evening meal.
So imagine her surprise when she found that someone was already there.
A girl, seventh year, short in stature, bearing Slytherin colours, was stood staring over the chest-high wall, down at the lake. McGonagall could recognize the girl immediately as Bellatrix Black: the vibrant curly black hair was unmistakable.
Her first reaction was to bristle: Miss Black was being disobedient yet again. This parapet was off-limits to students because it was unsafe and somehow miss Black had found her way through a magically locked door. McGonagall wondered what excuse could she have for this particular transgression.
She was about to rush to the student to give her a piece of a mind and a month's worth of detention until something gave her pause. The way miss Black's shoulders shook… and that sniffing sound she heard when she was close enough to hear it was unmistakable. Miss Black was weeping softly.
She stopped for the moment, wondering what to do. The girl had yet to notice her and McGonagall decided that the best thing to do was to announce herself. A brief cough would do the trick.
And it did. Instantly, the now startled girl whirled around, looking at her with wide, wet and red eyes the moment she did. "Oh… OH!" she exclaimed. "Professor! I… Sorry, I just… I just have something in my eyes."
Ah, her stubborn pride.
"Of course," said McGonagall. "It can be quite windy up here."
The girl nodded.
"Which is exactly the reason why this door is usually locked," said McGonagall. "Care to explain how you found your way onto this parapet, miss Black?"
"Well," miss Black bit her lip, her tears now dried. "The lock obviously is enchanted to shock anyone with no key or the wrong key, correct?"
McGonagall nodded. She had enchanted the lock herself, after all. A few moments later, Miss Black produced a small hand mirror, set in a cold iron frame. "I enchanted this mirror to capture magical discharges on its surface and expel it when the charge gets too high. Because it's set in cold iron, the magic has nowhere else to go but outward. I had to find the right angle, but if you reflect its own magic back unto the lock, it'll open."
McGonagall was about to say something, but closed her mouth just as quickly. A slight semblance of a smile tugged on the corners of her mouth: miss Black was a very clever problem-solver, and had bypassed the lock by using the characteristics of its own charm against it. Not to mention, using cold iron which was a notoriously poor conductor for magic, to direct the flow of magic itself was just the type of solution to a problem miss Black would come up with.
She remembered first seeing miss Black so long ago now: all of eleven years old, arrogant and determined. Miss Black walked into the school with her head held high with intentions of conquest. Truly, miss Black only 'mellowed', as it were, when her two younger sisters also started to attend school.
And yet, young Bellatrix had been the subject of a hatstall during the sorting ceremony. The Sorting Hat had a long deliberation on whether miss Black should be placed in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Though she was undeniably Slytherin material, McGonagall couldn't help wondering if Ravenclaw could have been a far better environment for miss Black.
"I suppose I should change the charm on the lock, but I have a feeling you will simply break it again," said McGonagall. "So perhaps I should simply give you the key and spare us both the trouble, hm?"
Miss Black gave her a grateful look for a moment, before turning her gaze back to the lake.
"To think. To be alone," she spoke.
"Miss Black?"
"Why I'm here," she said. "That was going to be your next question, right?"
"I would think you should be quite familiar to that feeling," said McGonagall, instantly regretting her words. They had come out much harsher than she had intended: miss Black had no true friends, after all. She was about to apologize when miss Black simply nodded.
"You'd be right," said miss Black. "Now that Evelyn left, I have no one else to talk to than my sisters. Though perhaps… perhaps…"
"Miss Black?" McGonagall frowned as miss Black turned her gaze towards the Forbidden Forest in the distance.
Miss Black said nothing, simply staring off into the distance again. "Do you ever wonder what it's all about, professor? The purpose of it all?"
McGonagall stood next to her, frowning. "Oh dear, miss Black, are you asking me for the meaning of life? If you are, I have no answers for you. Greater wizards than myself have struggled with that question without ever finding an answer."
"Nothing quite so profound," replied miss Black. "I just… I wonder why I bother."
"How so?"
"My family is rich beyond belief. I will never want for anything," said miss Black. "My life is laid out for me. I will marry. I will have children. I will be a pure-blood paragon. I will live a life of luxury… but I will accomplish nothing."
"Miss Black?" asked McGonagall, a soft prodding for her to explain herself.
"I don't need to put in any effort. At all. I could score an outstanding mark or a troll mark and nothing would change my future," said miss Black. "And yet I want to apply myself. I want to succeed. I want to be the best."
"Truth be told," said McGonagall. "You don't need to exert yourself to gain an outstanding mark. Your behaviour not withstanding, miss Black, you have a natural talent for magic."
Miss Black smiled briefly, but it faded quickly. "That's not what I mean, professor. I look out there and I see the Forbidden Forest in the distance. And I think to myself 'I want to go there'."
"Years ago," said McGonagall, getting a bit uncomfortable revealing something of a personal nature. "I had to choose between love and a magical career. To this very day I wonder if I made the right choice. But it is the choice I made and have to live with regardless."
Miss Black seemed to think over her words for a moment. Then, in a voice that was laced with bitterness and eyes that once again turned red with unshed years, miss Black gave a reply. "At least you had a choice."
Miss Black was someone who refused to be pitied, filled with stubborn pride as she was. That day, however, she allowed McGonagall to lay a hand on her shoulder as the two of them stood there in silence, watching over the lake until it was time for evening dinner.
Chapter 4: Looking Back at OurselvesChapter TextAs per usual Bellatrix woke up around midnight after only a few hours of sleep. She turned her head to the window and found the full moon out above a clear sky. A smile tugged at her lips as she carefully slipped out of bed. Bellatrix had done this dance so many times before now that she'd gotten quite adept at silently getting dressed and had already prepared her pack. In less than two minutes, Bellatrix was ready to leave her clueless roommates behind in their beds and silently stalked through the corridors.
Left. Left again. Up the stairs. Hard right.
The painting of Shifty Pete loomed at the end of the corridor: a rather roguish black clad sorcerer tipped his hat when he saw her approach. "Evenin' Bella," he greeted with a whisper.
"Evening Pete," replied Bellatrix, keeping her voice down. "Unxmaal."
"'Ave fun," he winked as his frame slid aside, revealing an opening in the wall and a spiral staircase leading down. Bellatrix quickly entered the opening and rushed down the stairs just as the painting replaced itself.
Ahead of her was a long, dark and dank corridor which led all the way underneath the lake. From here on, it was smooth sailing. Bellatrix calmed walked through the corridor, its magical torches bursting to life as she approached and going out behind her when she'd crossed enough distance. Finally, she arrived at another set of stairs leading up and, after a short climb, a hatch opened itself and Bellatrix emerged on the shores of the Black Lake. Behind her, the hatch closed and to anyone not in the know, the passage would only look like a small collection of large stones lain on the shores of the lake.
Bellatrix closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, taking in the smells of the lake, the sounds of the forest and the coolness of the night air. This is what it meant to be free.
She checked her watch and found she still had plenty of time until the witching hour. First, she was drawn to the lights of Hogsmeade and, after a five minute walk, entered town. Still, she had to be on her toes a bit: she'd rather not run into a teacher here so she avoided the high street until she came to the Hog's Head.
She found the Hog's Head in a bustle with quite a lot of wizards and witches around. As per usual, she did a quick scan of the room to make sure there weren't any teachers in sight. By now, the proprietor of the Hog's Head had already spotted her and waved her over. She gotten know the bearded man quite well over the past few months and he would usually give her a hand-sign if there was a teacher in the common room. Today he did not, so the coast was clear.
Soft music played from a visiting band while she plopped herself onto a barstool and listened to two witches arguing about the current prices of frost tubers. Aberforth Dumbledore stood behind the bar cleaning glasses. He held up a mug and studied it. Finding it clean enough, he put it in front of Bellatrix.
"Ah, how's my favourite under-age drinker doing?" he asked.
"Thirsty," Bellatrix replied and tossed a few coins on the bar.
"That's what I like to hear," the man who was, ironically, Dumbledore's brother, chuckled heartily. "Remember what we agreed upon. One drink only. I don't want a repeat of the last day of school back in June."
Bellatrix grimaced. She'd celebrated the end of school a bit too... enthusiastically. Waking up with a pounding headache in a pen while a goat was licking her face had been quite the experience. Seeing Bellatrix was still underage, she'd had to promise Aberforth to limit her intake to one drink per visit until she'd turn 18.
So, ale or fire whiskey? What a choice. Fire whiskey was always good, but she'd be meeting Hermione again later on the other side of the magic pool and she wanted to be lucid for that. "Pint of ale," Bellatrix finally decided. That would make her just tipsy enough for some inspiration to work on her next story.
"Ale it is," Aberforth smiled and poured her a pint of Ole Fishy Green Ale, a local speciality. Minty, cinnamon tinted ale laced with eggs of lake sturgeons. She found the drink soothing and refreshing while the alcohol shot right to her head. Bellatrix thanked Aberforth and, now sufficiently emboldened, stepped out of the Hog's Head and practically ran into the Forbidden Forest straight towards the location of the magical pool: her alluring secret adventure with the mysterious girl from the future.
Of course, once she arrived at the pool, she found it to still be inactive. The young Slytherin simply unpacked her backpack and produced blankets and a pillow to prop herself up against the gnarly dead tree: she would kill some time by working on her story, having decided that the creature that would kill the Rodolphus Lestrange lookalike would be the most vicious, meanest and ugliest skinwalker she could imagine.
Time passed as she worked, her quill sliding over the scroll effortlessly as the words came to her by the most inspiring mug of Old Fishy Green. In fact, she almost didn't notice that the magic of the pool had activated and was bathing the clearing in bluish magical light. Delighted to be able to talk to Hermione again, Bellatrix finished her sentence, rolled up the scroll and turned to... not see Hermione there.
That was odd.
She put away her quill and waited rather impatiently. Had something happened? Where could she be?
The answer came soon enough when a panting Hermione emerged in the pool. She was red in the face and looked like she had been running. "S-sorry. Sorry I'm late!" Hermione took a moment to catch her breath.
"Whoa, take a few breaths," Bellatrix smiled. "What happened? Did something chase you?"
"You could say that," Hermione took a few deep breaths. "I was almost caught trying to sneak out of the castle. I did what you said and followed the route to the painting hiding the secret passage. I almost fouled it up. I left my book-bag by the door, tripped over it in the dark and fell flat on my face right in the corridor. I still can't believe the prefect patrolling in the next corridor didn't hear the noise."
"Hah," Bellatrix chuckled. "Always remember where you put your things when you sneak out in the dark."
"It didn't help I couldn't find all my clothes at first," said Hermione. "That cost me precious time. And when I stepped out of the tower, I almost ran straight into the Hufflepuff prefect."
"Ouch," replied Bellatrix. "Bad timing!"
"And then when I was near the painting, I almost ran into a prefect again! Ravenclaw this time!" Hermione muttered. "Seriously, they're never around when you need them, but when you want them gone they're all over you."
"Sounds like my first and only boyfriend," Bellatrix snorted.
"Once I got through the painting, it was smooth sailing," said Hermione.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Was that... your first time trying to sneak out of the castle? Oh, it was, wasn't it? Hah, the first time is always the best. Exciting, isn't it?"
Hermione let out a brief laugh, showing that she quite agreed. "Oh, you could say that," Hermione replied. All I could think of was all the detention and lectures I'd get if I'd get caught and dragged back to the dorm. And then to get away with it. God, such a rush!"
"Don't let it go to your head," chuckled Bellatrix. "Remember, you still have to get back inside your dorm later. Getting out of the castle is only the first half. A successful reentry is the second."
"I'll worry about that later," said Hermione as she settled herself down next to the pool. "For now I just want to bask in my success."
That made Bellatrix laugh again. "Escaping is something you'll get better at the more you do it."
Hermione seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Tell me about your first and only boyfriend."
Bellatrix shrugged. "Not much to tell. Puppy-love romance in my fifth year. Everett was a Ravenclaw. Nothing really came out of it. Just kid stuff. Peck on the cheek and holding hands. That sort of thing. You? Is there a man in your life?"
"There used to be," Hermione cast her eyes downward a little. "Ron. We were really good friends and went through a lot together. It eventually developed into a romance of a sort, but... it just got really awkward really quickly. I'm not sure which of us was the most relieved when we just decided to break up. We've gone back to just being really good friends and I'm grateful for that."
Bellatrix nodded. "Sometimes it just doesn't work out," she said.
"His mum still blames me for it, I think," laughed Hermione. "That's one woman you don't want to be angry with you. It's a shame, really, I would have enjoyed spending some time at their house."
"Hah, I'll keep that in mind," Bellatrix snorted, her mood falling more than a little. "The man in my life, if you could even call him that, is Rodolphus Lestrange."
Odd. She could see an involuntary cringe go through Hermione's body at the mere mention of his name: perhaps Hermione had heard of him in some way? Part of her wanted to ask, but then she remember she'd rather not know about the future. Regardless, that was no reason not to tell Hermione exactly what she thought of Rodolphus.
"What a disgusting little turd he is. And I'm supposed to marry him a few weeks after my graduation," Bellatrix spoke, sounding more embittered than she'd wanted to. "He already treats me as if he owns me! A man of wonderful pure-blood pedigree, Father tells me. Well, that may be, but he still has the manners of a particularly dim-witted troll and the dignity of a pill-bug! And saying that is an insult to pill-bugs! And to think I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life tied to that prat and share his bed!"
Hermione gave her a sad smile. One of sympathy. Though Bellatrix never did liked the idea of being pitied, this felt different. It felt as if Hermione understood. "Arranged marriage?" she asked.
"Yeah," Bellatrix muttered softly.
"I'm sorry," Hermione replied.
"Not your fault," Bellatrix shook her head.
Hermione pursed her lips. "There's a rotter like that in my life as well," replied Hermione. "And his name is Cormac McLaggen! He's been stalking me ever since the start of the school year! Yesterday, he cornered me in the corridor and refused to let me pass. That man is just so... romantically assertive and it's annoying me to no end!"
That made Bellatrix chortle briefly. "By romantically assertive, you mean he's trying to get inside your knickers, right?"
"And then some!" Hermione bristled.
Bellatrix shook her head. "Men, eh?"
The pool shimmered a little when Hermione gave her an indignant look. "It's not men! Some of the best people I've known are men… and some of the worst. It's just pathetic blowhards like McLaggen who never grew up and think they're entitled to everything. Infuriating little boys. No scratch that! I've known little boys with more maturity in their pinkie finger than McLaggen has in his entire body!"
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Are we still talking about McLaggen or are we talking about Rodolphus Lestrange? Because I can't tell the difference at this point."
"Well, then you understand why I'm so frustrated!" Hermione huffed. "He won't take no for an answer. God, how could I have been so stupid?!"
Bellatrix frowned. "Why do you call yourself stupid while he's the one harassing you?"
The brown-haired witch bit her lip for a moment and let out an embarrassed sigh. "I... I might have asked McLaggen out on a date to a Christmas party two years ago purely as a tactic to make Ron jealous because he really hated McLaggen."
Wait. What? Did she really hear that correctly? Bellatrix blinked once. Twice. "Yeah, that really was stupid," Bellatrix sighed, speaking honest truth. "What were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking Ron was less oblivious than he turned out to be," Hermione grimaced. "Regardless, I am now stuck with McLaggen. Worst thing yet, I at one point during the evening, stood under the mistletoe with him and he... got very forward."
"He tried to shove his tongue down your throat and stick his hand up your skirt," Bellatrix helpfully translated.
"Exactly!" Hermione's tone was one of disgust. "And he's still on about that missed kiss from two years ago! As if it was some sort of raffle prize!"
Bellatrix put her finger to her lips and thought a moment. "Hermione?" she started. "I think you need to be a bit more forceful here. Obviously he hasn't taken the hint and if he hasn't by now, he never will."
Hermione cocked her head sideways. "You think that'll help?" she asked.
"Oh, definitely!" Bellatrix smiled broadly. "Really put your foot down. Take out your wand. Hex him for good measure. Tell him you've got quite enough of his antics and don't be afraid to back it up with magic if he's still not listening!"
"Hm," Hermione rubbed her chin, but from her expression, Bellatrix could tell that her friend was very much liking this idea. "Mostly, I just want him to leave me alone. If I can achieve that by being more forceful, I will give it a try."
"It doesn't always work," Bellatrix sighed. "I try to be forceful to Lestrange, but... I don't know, it just makes things worse. Last time I got so angry I ended up duelling him. Actually disarmed him and got ready to hex him something fierce, when he just looked up and chuckled how he was going to 'tame' me when we'd be married. Turn me into a proper wife."
A shudder went through Bellatrix at the mere thought.
"Hm," said Hermione, considering her tale."How about being less forceful in your case? You're only egging him on and emboldening him. How about… being a bit more subtle. You're smart enough, use your brain a little more. Figure out how to hit him where it really hurts. That might get him to leave you alone for a while."
Bellatrix nodded, glancing up at the sky for a moment. "His pride," she whispered. "I could take him down a notch by wounding his pride. I'll have to think on how to do this."
"Well, there you go," smiled Hermione.
"Hm," replied Bellatrix. "Well, aside from the McLaggens and Lestranges of this world, do you have any other prospects?"
Hermione shook her head. "Too busy studying to really focus on boys, really. Perhaps I'm just not looking right now."
"What about girls?"
"What about them?"
Bellatrix found that a rather odd statement. She bent forward, looking into the pool to better study Hermione's expression. It surprised her that Hermione had a baffled expression on her face.
"You... you've never been with a girl?" asked Bellatrix.
"No," Hermione frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, Merlin!" Bellatrix chuckled and shook her head. "Hermione, you've been missing out something fierce!"
"Have... have you?" Hermione asked, stammering the words.
"Oh yeah," Bellatrix grinned broadly. "Multiple times, in fact. Spent the latter half of my sixth year in a relationship with Evelyn Greengrass. Beautiful girl... though more woman than girl. One year above me. I had the passion, she had the fierceness. We were not friends, but… I think rivals is the best way to describe it. Yes. Rivals. For a long time, in fact, until, well, something developed. Evelyn and I had a deeply sensual relationship."
Bellatrix almost chuckled when she saw all the blood in Hermione's body rush to her head, causing her to look like a freshly cooked lobster and, oh my, did she just gulp?! Still, Bellatrix could tell that Hermione wasn't used to talking about sex and not wanting to scare off her new friend, she decided to tone it down a bit. Still, it was curious: this was 1968 with the sexual revolution in full swing. Would people become more prudish again in the future, or was this a more personal thing?
"W-where is she now?" Hermione asked.
"Married," Bellatrix shrugged. "Like me, she was funnelled into an arranged marriage immediately after graduation."
"I'm sorry," replied Hermione again.
"Don't be," Bellatrix shook her head. "We both knew it was coming. We both knew it wouldn't last forever. That made the time spent together more special. When it's finite and short, you treasure every moment. I've… lost sight of her since then."
"That makes sense, I guess," Hermione said.
"A lot of pure-blood girls have relationships with other girls at some point in their lives," said Bellatrix with a smile. "Almost all of them, in fact. It's an opportunity to be adventurous without chance of a pregnancy which can ruin a carefully cultivated blood-line. And, really, girls are just fantastic."
Hermione still blushed while she cocked her head sideways. "W-what's it like?" she asked carefully.
Bellatrix bit her lip to stop from chuckling. Though Hermione wasn't much comfortable about sex, she could tell that friend was still very curious.
"Girls are fantastic," Bellatrix closed her eyes and smiled to herself. "So soft. Imagine wrapping yourself in soft, warm velvet while relaxing at the warmth of a fire. Soft long hair sliding over your skin and gentle, nimble hands massaging your back. In my experience, Hermione, girls understand a lot better just exactly what other girls like. Much better than boys. The kisses..."
There was that gulp again.
"You should try it!" Bellatrix winked.
"I... I don't know."
"One way to get rid of McLaggen is to kiss a girl right in front of him," chuckled Bellatrix. "Just imagine the look on his face!"
"I..."
"Name the first girl that comes to mind."
"Luna?" Hermione replied, before catching herself and gasping.
"Right," said Bellatrix. "Your assignment: find this Luna and kiss her."
"I... I can't do that!" Hermione gasped.
"And why not?!" Bellatrix crossed her arms, challenging her.
Hermione gulped again. "Because... because... Luna is strange enough to actually probably be up for it!"
"And how is this a problem?!" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.
"It... it just is!"
Bellatrix held up a hand. "I'm just teasing you, Hermione. If you're not interested in girls, that's more than fine."
Hermione was looking really uncomfortable now. "There's nothing wrong with liking girls, it's just... I... I'm not sure it's for me... No. Wait. I am sure it's not for me. Completely sure. Completely and utterly sure!"
There was just a little too much self-doubt in that statement to be any way convincing to Bellatrix, but for now she would have to stop teasing. She was clearly making her new friend uncomfortable and that was not what she had intended. Besides, she wanted to talk more and this might scare Hermione off a bit. "Tell me, Hermione," Bellatrix asked. "Do you have any siblings?"
"Hm?" Hermione replied, but judging from her expression Bellatrix could see that her friend was grateful for the change of subject. "Oh, no, I'm an only child. I must admit, I've often thought what it would be like to have a brother or a sister."
"Oh, you're missing out again," replied Bellatrix. "I have two younger sisters. Andromeda is two years younger than me and is in her fifth year. Narcissa is four years younger and in her third. We're all in Slytherin together. That fact alone makes school bearable."
"Are you and your sisters close?" Hermione asked.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? We're the Black sisters. We have a bond that is unbreakable. We look out of each other, have each other's backs always. You need people you can trust in Slytherin and the only people in Slytherin we Blacks can trust is our own family."
"Is it really that bad in Slytherin?" Hermione frowned.
"Oh, you have no idea," Bellatrix chuckled. "Put a bunch of the most ambitious people in the wizarding world together in a small confined space and they'll eat each other alive until only the strongest survive. Well, figuratively speaking, of course, not literally. But only because literally eating each other alive would get someone into a lot of trouble."
"I had no idea things in Slytherin were that awful," Hermione frowned. "No wonder Slytherins are always mean and angry."
"Hah," Bellatrix chuckled. "It's not that awful. But then again, I am one of the strongest ones. And I do look out for my sisters always. Steer them around the bend, you see? Make sure they don't fall into the same traps I fell into when I was younger."
"You are your sisters are very close from the sound of it," said Hermione. "Have you told them about us? And the pool?"
"Nah," Bellatrix shook her head. "Andie wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut about it and Cissy? Well, I think she might look for a way to exploit the power of the pool for her own gain. She'd have you find out next week's lottery numbers for her or some such. And, well, as close as we sisters are, sometimes I want something secret for myself, you know?"
"So I'm your secret?" Hermione laughed. "I don't know if I should be flattered or afraid. Maybe both. A question, though."
"Hm?"
"Hypothetically speaking," Hermione asked. "If one of your sisters were to do something you vehemently disagree with, would you still stand by her?"
She considered that that was a rather oddly specific question for Hermione to ask. Still, at least she wasn't doing any more boiled lobster imitations. Bellatrix settled next to the pool and thought a moment. "Yes," said Bellatrix. "Depending on what it might be, I would likely yell, kick and scream, but ultimately I would stand by my sisters, no matter what. Blood is thicker than water, Hermione, and pure-bloods know this better than most."
A rather warm smile crossed Hermione's features. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, Bellatrix."
Just then, the pool started to shimmer once more, the light slowly fading. "Oh, bother," said Hermione. "Have we already been talking for an hour?"
"Seems that way," said Bellatrix, disappointment clear on her voice. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Absolutely!" Hermione replied cheerfully just as she face started to fade and eventually morphed into Bellatrix's own reflection in the moonlight as the water of the pool turned back into regular run-of-the-mill water. Bellatrix let out a sigh and started to pack in her things to sneak back into the castle and head back to bed. Tomorrow, she would speak to her new friend again.
And she couldn't wait.