Chapter 19: Go Off PisteChapter Text
Hermione can't seem to find any words under Bellatrix's gaze. Her familiar grin. What is she doing here? How is she just standing there like it's nothing! Leaning against the rock, only wearing a black cloak over her dress. Nothing else. And it's open at the front. How is she not freezing?
Bellatrix takes a step forward. "So? Did…you happen to bring anything, other than your lovely selves? Wagtail and I are starving here. He almost ate my rat!"
And she pulls a rat out of her pocket. The rat from the cage. Strokes it. Hugs it to her chest fondly. As if apologising to it.
Umm…
Hermione slowly reaches down and opens her bag. Starts pulling out all the different items they brought. And food. Lots of food from the kitchens. Chicken legs. Bread. Cheese. Some drinks too.
Sirius' mouth falls open and he practically dives at her, pulling the chicken from her hands and tearing into it with a groan.
Bellatrix just waits. Watches him. Smiles.
Then wanders over. Closer. Chooses some chicken for herself. Tears a piece off and gives it to the rat.
And takes a bite with a moan, closing her eyes. "Knew there was a reason I liked you, Granger." She takes another bite. "Didn't I tell you, Wags? Your godson chose the best friends. Bloody mind-reading geniuses."
Sirius stops eating. Pauses to lick his fingers and look at Bellatrix curiously. "Good friends? You don't think they're…bloodtraitors? Beneath you?"
Bellatrix chuckles. "Beneath me? I'm living in a cave! Now, come on. Eat some more. And they brought blankets! Clothes! Go on! Put something on. A hat! You should be wearing a hat."
And she looks around for one. Doesn't find one. They didn't think to bring a hat.
Bellatrix holds her hand out to Harry with a sigh. "Duplicate yours. It won't last, but it will do for now. Can you remember the wand movement? The incantation? It's—"
"Geminio," Harry says firmly, hat already in hand, wand in motion. Looks relieved when it turns out okay. Smiles cautiously at Bellatrix. "Like the apples. Right?"
She grins back. Snatches the hat. "Right. Five points to Gryffindor. But tighten the wand movement a bit more next time. Not so floppy, firmer intent. Then it'll last longer."
And she shoves the hat on Sirius' head.
"Ow! Get off! I can do it myself! Why— you're pulling my hair," Sirius shouts, jerking the hat into place, out of his eyes. "Why are you acting like this? What's got into you?"
Bellatrix folds her arms with a pout. "I'm helping! Let me help. That's what I'm for. That's why I'm here. So if you would just listen and let me—"
Sirius hastily puts a hand over Bellatrix's mouth.
Opens his own mouth. Then closes it.
Glances at Harry and Hermione.
Sighs. "Into the cave. All of you. It's safer past the wards. And…and if you want to help, Bella, then help them bring some of those things in. I'm still…weak."
Bellatrix pushes his hand of. Wipes at her lips and grimaces. "And you taste awful. You need to learn to wash your paws. Bleurgh." She reaches for a bottle of pumpkin juice and takes a swig.
Offers it to Harry. "Want some? Must have been a long walk up here."
Harry gives Hermione an uncomfortable look and then just pushes the bottle away. "I'm good. Maybe later. Uhh…here, Sirius. I'll take that. Hermione has this bag that you can fit really big things inside. We wanted to bring a bed, but we didn't know where to get one."
They gather everything back up, some in their arms and some back into Hermione's bag, and walk further inside the cave, wands lit. Bellatrix first, Sirius pushing her inside and her feet dragging and skidding on the stone in protest.
Harry laughs into his hand. "They're like kids!" he whispers.
It echoes.
"Heard that!" Bellatrix shouts. "And he's the silly little kid. I'm older, you know. Six years older. Taught him to ride a broom, and swim, and tie his shoes—"
"No, you did not! You just watched and laughed whenever I fell off, or sank, or tripped over. Andromeda taught me. And she taught Narcissa. And…Reg."
They drift into painful silence. In the dark. It's quite a small cave. About the size of a garage—
Harry pulls her to a stop. "Buckbeak!"
She'd almost stepped on Buckbeak. Who is waking up. Getting to his feet.
Hermione hastily steps back. Bows low, Harry at her side. Holding eye contact as much as they can in the dim light.
The hippogriff bows back, to her relief, and then trots past her towards the entrance.
Bellatrix follows. Stops next to Hermione. Pokes her bag. "Anything for him? Chicken?"
Oh, right!
She reaches around in her bag and throws some chicken for Buckbeak. He catches it with a snap.
"Poor thing," Bellatrix murmurs. "He shouldn't be here. Needs freedom. Freedom to run. Freedom to fly."
Hermione glances sideways at the witch. Is…she really talking about Buckbeak?
"Are you staying here?" Hermione asks quietly. "Permanently?"
Bellatrix hums. "I don't know. There are…a lot of options for me to narrow down. Choices to make about…well. You know."
"Hermione…" Sirius calls warily. "I think maybe you should come away from—"
Bellatrix tuts. "I'm not going to hurt them. I already told you."
"Well I don't believe you!" Sirius says. "Why should I? You haven't done anything for me to believe—"
"She saved me from a dragon," Hermione blurts out. Flushes as Bellatrix grins at her again. Reaches for—
Hermione jerks back. Was she about to touch her arm? It looked like…
She hastily makes her way over to Harry and Sirius, opening her bag to get some blankets back out that Harry immediately wraps around Sirius' shoulders.
"Got any drugs?" Bellatrix whispers in her ear from behind.
Hermione rolls her eyes. "No."
She feels a chin rest on her shoulder. Steps forward out of reach. Why— she's so close. So touchy.
Bellatrix clears her throat. "Sorry. But what I mean is…"
And Bellatrix walks around to kneel at Sirius' feet. "I'm worried about Wagtail. It's too cold. Too damp. He's too thin," she whispers quietly. "And he won't let me help him," she grits out. Almost growls. Stands up on her knees to press a hand to Sirius' forehead.
"He's getting sick?" Harry asks panickedly. "Sirius, if she can help— You shouldn't be here! You need to get away. Just…apparate away somewhere. I'm fine at Hogwarts. Safe."
"Thank you!" Bellatrix shouts. "See? Listen to Potter! Get your strength back. Then you can help."
"I've waited long enough," Sirius mutters. "I'm not waiting any longer."
Bellatrix puts her head in his lap and groans. "You're not thinking clearly. Believe me. I've been there. So let us think for you. Eat. Sleep. Recover."
"Is there somewhere he can go?" Hermione asks.
Bellatrix sits up. Raises an eyebrow at Sirius.
He grits his teeth, pushing at her shoulders. "No. I'm not going back there. Never. Get off me."
Bellatrix snorts, ignoring him. "So you're going to die out of spite, just like her."
Her? Who? Where?
Oh wait. Sirius has a house. Grimmauld Place. It's not being used by the Order yet. And it makes sense why he's avoiding his hated childhood home.
"Wherever it is, go there," Hermione says firmly. "You're not well. Don't do this to Harry."
This seems to make him think about it. He glances at Harry. Searches his face, as if he can't believe he's there. Can't believe he gets to look.
Harry nods. "You're the only family I have left. I want— I'm telling you to take care of yourself, and let other people take care of you. That means a home, and food, and a shower, and clothes. That means admitting when you need help, and talking to people. Maybe— If you don't want to talk to Bellatrix…why don't you write to Professor Lupin?"
"Remus will worry," Sirius sighs. "He has enough troubles. He doesn't need—"
Bellatrix stands up. "Just ask the bloke to move in with you! He lost his job, right? No money? Nowhere to go? We have money."
Sirius gives her a disbelieving look. Maybe because she just offered her own money to a werewolf.
And shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. "Had money. We can't access it, we're on the run! Do you think we can just show up at Gringotts?" Sirius says, slightly delirious now. Giddy. "Hello, Mr Goblin. My cousin and I are being hunted across Britain for being mass murderers! But can we have our houses and our money back?"
"We already have the house! That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Bellatrix shouts. "It's automatic! Next male heir. Blacks don't care if you broke the law or killed anyone! And you didn't even kill anyone! You're innocent!"
Harry stands up too. "Then it's settled," he says firmly. Authoritatively. A glimmer of his older self shining through. A leader. "You have a house, so you're going to live there. And you're going to write to your friends, and take all this food, and Bellatrix…"
He looks at Bellatrix. Studies her.
And the warily hopeful child returns, hand moving to run through his hair before he remembers the hat on his head. "You'll look after him?"
Bellatrix sighs tiredly, looking at him and away. Looking down at Sirius, still huddled in the blanket. "Of course, Potter," she says softly. "You've got to take care of family. Love the ones you've got. Help them out. He's still my little cousin. And I've got a lot of teaching to…make up for."
"I don't want to learn anything from you," Sirius says hoarsely, teeth chattering.
Bellatrix drags him to his feet. "I know you don't. But tough tits. Neither of us have a choice in the matter. So do you think you can make it to London on the back of a Hippogriff, or— wait. No. That's a stupid idea. I'll apparate us like Potter said, and then I'll find someone to relocate Witherwings. Somewhere with his own kind."
"Can you apparate him?" Hermione asks. "He won't get…splinched?"
She shudders. As does Bellatrix.
"What does splinched mean?" Harry asks innocently.
"When part of you gets left behind," Bellatrix explains, seemingly on professor-autopilot. "A body part. It can happen when you apparate without focusing. Like if you're tired, or injured, or drunk."
"Body part…" Harry whispers.
Sirius pulls himself upright. Pushes Bellatrix off. "I'm fine! For Godric's sake, I'm not unwell, I've just been on the run for far too long. I can certainly handle apparition. Bella is just babying me. I'm a grown wizard."
He hugs Harry tightly, and then walks him towards the mouth of the cave. "It was good to see you, but you should be getting back before it gets dark. And I will look after myself. I promise. I'll be fit as a fiddle in no time."
Hermione hands over the bag of food. "So you'll go?" she clarifies. Sternly.
For a moment he just looks at her.
Then Bellatrix.
Then takes the bag. "Yes. I'll go. Just over the winter whilst I recover. So now you get going back to Hogwarts. I thought you'd be one to follow the rules, Hermione, but…"
He laughs. Looks at Harry again. "You have chosen your friends well, Harry. Your Dad would be so proud of how brave you're being. Sneaking out with his cloak and— and kind. Kind and brave, like Lily too."
Harry ducks his head. Scuffs at the ground. "I just…didn't want you to be all alone out here. Because you're not, okay?" he looks back up. "You're not alone."
Hermione glances away. To give them some space to share this moment.
And to look at Bellatrix. A Bellatrix with…a strange look in her eyes, standing there shivering.
Did she not get a blanket? Or a hat, or anything for herself?
"Bellatrix, turn around and face inside the cave," Sirius orders out of nowhere.
What?
Bellatrix frowns at Hermione, but does turn around. "Why? What are you hiding from me? You don't have to—"
Sirius ignores her and quickly pulls Harry's invisibility cloak out of his bag, beckoning Hermione over and throwing the cloak over her and Harry.
He holds a finger to his lips, and then motions for them to leave down the mountain.
Oh.
Still doesn't trust Bellatrix. Keeping them safe. And…thinks Bellatrix doesn't know about the cloak.
Bellatrix huffs. "Well? Can I look?"
"No!" Sirius shouts. "Just do as I say."
And he looks around. Reaches out to see if they've left yet.
Harry quietly moves back. They back all the way out. Past the wards and down over the lip.
And then Harry jerks them to the side and pulls them to a stop. "I want to make sure he leaves," he whispers in her ear.
Fair enough. Sirius isn't…overly reliable when it comes to keeping his word.
They wait. And wait. Can't hear or see anything with the wards in place.
Sirius comes out, bag on his shoulder and without the blanket anymore.
"—and I'm coming with you!" Bellatrix says as she appears too, running out after him.
Sirius walks over to stroke Buckbeak. Then sighs. "No you're not," he quickly whispers.
And he spins. Apparates. Gone.
Oh.
Bellatrix sighs.
Sits down just inside the lip of the cave. Takes the rat out of her pocket. Strokes it sadly.
Then looks up at them. "I can see your feet," she grunts.
Hermione looks down at the uneven ground. Oops.
Harry cautiously pulls off the cloak.
"Uhh…" he says as he stares at the empty spot Sirius had been standing in. "I'm gonna…go see Buckbeak before we go. And have a look at the view from around that side of the mountain. It must be…"
He drifts off. Gives Hermione a look and gestures at Bellatrix, who is now back to staring at the ground.
And then walks off around a corner with Buckbeak.
Great. So…well she guesses she should…
Hermione climbs back up the lip and sits down next to Bellatrix on the rocky, wet floor just inside the cave. "What's your rat called?"
Bellatrix keeps stroking it. Then hands the rat to Hermione. "Ratty."
Hermione holds back a strange laugh. This is all very weird, and uncomfortable, and— She's not the biggest fan of rats, they're just a bit…
She hands Ratty back. "You keep him."
Bellatrix just nods. Puts him down, frowning now.
Leans her head against Hermione's shoulder. "What do you think I should do?" she asks quietly.
Hermione tries to act like this is normal. Keeps her breathing even, and brushes some hair out of her face. "You mean…with Sirius?"
Bellatrix turns to look at her. "He's the only one I've got left. Cissy will be in danger if I go to her. And Andy won't speak to me. Refuses to see me. How…You're talking to me. You didn't want to, before. You wouldn't even shake my hand, but now you're talking to me. So why is that? What did I do? What did I do right?"
She…wants to talk to Andromeda? And— oh! She's staying away from Narcissa to protect her! Is that why she obliviated her? So that when the aurors went looking, Narcissa would have no connection with her? To make sure Narcissa was safe? But then why draw attention to herself and cast the Dark Mark in the first place?
And she wants advice? Isn't it obvious that— "Well you…you're nice to me," Hermione explains. "I don't know why exactly, but you act like we're friends. And you saved me from a dragon, so I guess I…trust you more now. Did you…get my message?"
Bellatrix shakes her head. Oh. So where did that— accio newspaper!
The newspaper flies towards her out of the cave. She finds the article. Hands it to Bellatrix, slightly embarrassedly.
Bellatrix scans it. Then her eyes seem to glint. She smiles. Darts her fingers over the words, mouthing them to herself.
Then laughs. "That was clever, Granger. I would have got that. If Wagtail wasn't slobbering all over my stuff. How do you know me so well? Do we know each other in the future?"
And she turns and looks at Hermione curiously.
Hermione swallows. Shakes her head. "No, not really. That's— that's why I didn't like you. I knew what you did, what you've done, but I…never met you."
It's true. She hasn't. She hasn't met this Bellatrix. The one who wants to look after Sirius, and be close to Hermione, and smiles and laughs all the time. Laughs in a warm, genuine way.
This Bellatrix is different. This Bellatrix is…
Hermione is staring. She's just realised that she's been staring. Looking at Bellatrix's face for ages without saying anything. Her mouth. Her smile.
Hermione looks away.
Bellatrix grabs her chin and pulls her head back around. "So why do you like me? I was nice to Siri, and joked with him, and shared with him, and tried to help him…and now he's gone home without me. How can I make him let me in?"
Uhh…
Hermione can't really think right now. Her heart is thundering in her ears. Her jaw caught in a firm grip. Eyes staring into hers, looking for answers.
She wets her lips. "I— you— you were persistent. You were everywhere I went, and you— you're confusing, and intriguing. You— maybe you should go and see if he's alright. Maybe the wards will let you in, because you're family, and you know the address to Grimmauld Place."
Bellatrix wets her own lips. "Grimmauld?" she murmurs. "Now how do you know that…unless a Black told you?"
Oh. Oh dear. Um—
"How are you here?" Hermione blurts out. "Are you— How old are you? How did you escape Azkaban? What have you been doing for the last ten years? Why did you put Harry's name in the Goblet? What are you trying to do? Why are you scared of—"
"If I kiss you, will you stop asking questions?"
Wha—
Hermione pulls back with a yelp of surprise. Falls backwards, almost tumbling out of the cave.
Bellatrix laughs. "Okay, okay. I won't. That's why I asked."
Loud footsteps smack across rock towards her. "Hermione? Are you okay? What's going on?!"
She looks up at Harry confusedly, rubbing her head. Thoughts still—
Mating rituals. Erumpents. Thundering—
"Hermione!" Harry shouts again, urgently now, pulling her to her feet.
She shakes herself. "Yes! It's fine. I'm fine— I— just unexpected— we should go."
She turns to look at the view. The sunset. Nods to herself. "Bellatrix, you should check on Sirius. Stay with him. I'm sure he'll let you in, he did before. And— um— well— I—"
"Focus, Granger," Bellatrix says firmly. "Remember to put on Potter's cloak, and apparate him down the mountain. The frost's come in. It's too slippery to walk down. I'll…write to you and let you know how Wagtail's doing. And I'm sorry if— I'm not very good with boundaries."
Oh. Of course. Right.
She makes herself look at Bellatrix. Makes herself hold eye contact and smile even though she thinks her head might explode from just how—
Bellatrix wanted to kiss her?
To get her to stop asking questions, right? Not because—
"It's fine," Hermione says. Again. "You just…surprised me. I'm not— We don't know each other very well yet."
Bellatrix's shoulders seem to relax. She grins. "Yet."
Yet.
Oh. Did Hermione just imply—
Bellatrix chuckles. Slashes her wand through the air, taking down the wards, and walks back into the cave. "I'm here because Sirius is here. I saw you send Hedwig, so I knew he was around here somewhere," she calls out of the cave. "I put Harry's name in the Goblet because at that point I didn't know what else to do, and it seemed like the best option— Come here, Ratty!"
Some scraping sounds. A thud. Footsteps. "And I'm forty years old. Six years older than Siri, as I said. So not bad, right?" she says, coming back into view.
Then winks. "I think that's enough answers for now, until I get more of my own.
And she throws on a cloak. An invisibility cloak. Disappears.
There's a crack of apparition, and then silence.
Harry pulls his own cloak out of his bag with a sigh. "Well that wasn't enough answers, but it's a bit better. She seems…well I kind of trust her too. I see what you mean. I still think she's a bit crazy though. What did she do that made you shout?"
Hermione ducks under the cloak with him, suddenly aware of how dark it's gotten and how cold she is. "I'll tell you later. We need to get back. Hold on tight to me, and take a breath. This isn't going to feel very nice."
And with a crack, Buckbeak is alone on the mountain.
Hermione doesn't actually get around to telling Harry about the 'kiss-question' incident. More like she deliberately avoids it, in case she makes his head explode like hers did.
But by bedtime, she's worked herself into a bit of a panic about it. Turned it over in her head hundreds of times, Snape's comment about relationships and erumpents pinging around her mind, playing on repeat.
So she does what anyone would do.
She walks down the stairs, in the dark, in her pyjamas, to knock on the third-year dorm door and talk to Ginny, who is finally back from the Hospital Wing.
Hermione hugs her knees as they sit on Ginny's bed, curtains drawn and silencing charm firmly in place. She's told her everything. From the mountain, and from Snape.
Ginny gives her a strange look.
Then flops back on the bed. "Fleur Delacour and the crazy but weirdly attractive Death Eater lady? What kind of pheromones are you giving off?! Do you go around with amortentia in your pockets? Even I'm thinking about kissing you now, just to see what the fuss is about!"
"Ginny!" Hermione hisses, not quite able to tell if she's joking. "That's not helpful."
Ginny shrugs. "Look, it's fine. It just means you're hot. You're like…one of those wizards in Witch Weekly that everyone goes mad about. Except for witches. I don't see what the problem is, to be honest. You like witches. They like you. I would have kissed both of them by now."
Oh…
She's attractive?
Hermione shuffles around to lie down next to Ginny. Hesitates. "Don't kiss me," she says, just in case.
Ginny laughs. "I won't! I was joking. We're friends. It would be weird."
Well that's a relief.
"Would you really?" Hermione whispers at the ceiling. "Have kissed Bellatrix?"
There's a brief silence. "If I liked her," Ginny replies quietly. "From what you said, she seems trustworthy now. She must be from another time, like you. One that's more...normal. Nice." She glances at Hermione. "But kiss her? I've never even spoken to her, so I don't know. I think…"
Ginny turns on her side. "I think for some reason you've freaked yourself out about relationships. But it's okay. It's meant to be fun, not scary. Don't panic. It doesn't have to be a huge decision. It doesn't have to be serious. If you want to do something with someone, and they want to too, then do it! And if later you don't want to, then tell them and stop. Easy, see?"
Okay. That does make sense. She makes it sound so simple, it—
Maybe Hermione is a bit scared. Of the commitment. Of the decision. Of accidentally stringing someone along when she's not sure or ready.
Like with Ron. She'd ended up…trapped. And felt so guilty for hurting him. For not feeling what he felt.
But fun? She's never thought about relationships being fun. But that's what Fleur seems to do. And Bellatrix. Flirt and make jokes for the fun of it. Touching her…just because they want to.
She rolls to face Ginny too. Smiles. "Snog, marry, or kill…Harry, Luna and Dean Thomas."
Ginny gasps. "No! That's too hard! Couldn't you give me—"
Hermione shakes her head with a laugh. "Go on."
Ginny huffs. "Well…I can't kill Harry or Luna. So it has to be Dean, because even though he's cute, I don't know him that well. So…"
Her eyes dart back and forth. "Snog Luna, marry Harry," she quickly says.
Then sits up. "Okay, your turn—"
Hermione holds up a hand. "Only seventeen or older, and…only witches. I— I'm— I'm gay."
Ginny freezes. Then immediately falls on top of her to hug her. "You said it! That's the hardest bit. Well done. I still can't really say it."
Hermione lets out a shaky breath. "It's stupid, isn't it? Scared of a word. And I'm twenty-five. It shouldn't— all it means is that I'm exclusively attracted to witches. Why is it so hard to say? I'm gay. I'm a lesbian, I'm gay."
Ginny squeezes her tighter and laughs quietly. "Fight the fear!" she whispers. "I'm…bisexual. I'm bi. Gah, my face is going to burn off. Can you feel it? I'm radiating!"
Hermione hugs her and then pushes her back, casting a cooling charm at her face. "Better?"
Ginny smiles. "Snog, marry, kill…Fleur, Bellatrix, and…Trelawney!"
What?!
Hermione shoves her. "You did that on purpose! Now I have to—"
"Have to…?" Ginny drags out gleefully.
Hermione huffs. "Well, I'm not going anywhere near Trelawney, obviously. I'm definitely not marrying her, that would be dreadful. And a snog— ugh. No. I'm killing Trelawney."
"Go on…" Ginny says, practically bouncing on the bed.
And Hermione thinks about it. "So…well I'd marry Fleur, wouldn't I? She's my friend, and I know we stay friends for a long time, and that she's reliable, and—"
"Boring!" Ginny says. "Get friendship out of your head for once. Think wife. Think…touching her. Holding her hand. She's yours. She loves you."
She pictures it. Replaces Bill…with herself. Except she wouldn't have married Fleur so young. Or at the Burrow. But…it is nice when Fleur smiles at her. And touches her. Her wrist, or her back, or hugs her, whispers to her in French and feeds her chocolates or—
"Marry Fleur," she says. "Because she's fun, and caring, and beautiful. But also quick-witted, and impressive, and fiery. Hot."
Ginny smacks the mattress. "Told you she was hot! Okay, now tell me what you really think about Bellatrix."
Hermione nods. Just goes with it. "So that obviously means I'd have to snog Bellatrix. And— and I would. I'd kiss her. I caught myself staring at her today. She's just so…argh, I can't explain her!"
She sits up. To think better. "She…every conversation I have with her is unexpected, and different, and exciting. I never know what she's going to do, but at the same time it's like we have this rhythm. Like she can give me a knowing look, and I can follow her train of thought."
She fiddles with the sheets as Ginny looks at her encouragingly. "I…like it when she looks at me. Grins at me. She always seems happy to see me. Excited. And it makes me feel important, and special and— and she always knows when to stop, too. When to back off. When to change the subject. We both do. Everything just becomes…calm. She opens up around me. Asks me questions, and for advice. She whispers to me, and I whisper back. We tread carefully, trying to figure out what each other means, or wants. And even when I'm completely wrong…it feels right. Like there's a moment of connection. This strange kind of trust, or understanding, so that even though I have no idea what's happening whenever she's around…the communication is still open and…free. Whether we're walking in silence, or asking each other question after question."
And now there's a very long silence.
Hermione lies back down awkwardly. "Plus, she saved me from a dragon," she adds, because that seems significant.
Ginny joins her. Clears her throat. "So Fleur is hot…and Bellatrix is reliable, easy to talk to, and always happy to see you, and is there to support you with clear boundaries that you both understand?"
Hermione just nods in shock.
"Hermione…you're going to have to switch your answers," Ginny says in laughing shock. "You want to kiss Fleur…and marry Bellatrix."
And now the panic is back. Marriage? No no no
And it's Bellatrix. Have you forgotten who she is?! What she—
Hermione hugs her arm to her chest. "It's— no. No, this is just a game. For fun. And— and I'm not switching. Fleur— Fleur is kind, and cares about me, and Bellatrix…is attractive enough for me to kiss her. Hypothetically. It's all hypothetical, it's—"
Ginny hugs her. "You're making it all serious again. Of course you're not going to get married! It's just part of the game. You don't have to marry anyone…ever, Hermione! It's just— I'll change the words. Kiss, fuck, kill. Is that easier?"
Hermione laughs and pushes her off. "Ginevra Molly Weasley you are thirteen years old and— I forgot! You're a baby! Come here!"
And she hugs Ginny again. Tiny Ginny. It's so strange. To think her Ginny back home is married. And pregnant.
Ginny fights her off, squawking and complaining, so Hermione lets her go. It's getting very late, and they have lessons tomorrow. Monday morning.
She climbs off the bed and creeps towards the door. "Thanks for talking to me," she whispers. "I'll see you at breakfast."
Ginny grins at her. "Sweet dreams!" she shout-whispers back.
And Hermione fumbles the door handle and manages to get out. Climbs the stairs again.
Dreams. Oh she is going to have some very confusing dreams. Her head is…
Gay. Oh Godric she is gay. That's why she's been avoiding dating. Dating because she should and it's what's expected, but every time a wizard leans in to kiss her…
If Fleur or Bellatrix leant in to kiss her…
Bellatrix almost did. And you pushed her away. And Fleur is making it extremely obvious, so obvious that even Harry saw it.
You shouldn't kiss Bellatrix. You don't know for certain who she is. And even if she's changed, and nice, and interesting and— she tortured people!
Right?
She shuffles through the dark to her bed. Nudges Crookshanks awake and pushes him off. No sharing tonight. Go catch some…rats.
A pet rat? Seriously? Of all the animals—
Fleur. Think about Fleur instead. Much safer option. And unbelievably beautiful. Ginny is right, what was she thinking? Why did she reject Fleur? This is a different universe! She isn't married! This is your one chance to—
Well, that sounds creepy. She's not just an object. She doesn't belong to Bill. She's a person. Your friend. Your now much younger friend. Who maybe has a crush on you in this timeline.
Definitely has a crush on you. Feeding you chocolates and stroking your face.
Because you're hot.
Hermione can't believe she's hot! When did that happen?
But it's kind of the only explanation that witches keep wanting to…
She closes her eyes. Just closes her eyes. Go to sleep. Being in a different universe is not an excuse to explore your sexuality without consequences.
Or is it? Why is she here? Why this point in time? Why is she reliving her teenage years with…witches hanging all over her? Harry isn't in danger right now. All of her friends are happy. Bellatrix isn't a threat. Sirius is being sensible. She already fought the dragon, knows the next task, and it's nearly Christmas.
Is Ginny right? Are Lavender and Parvati right? Should she just relax and…see what happens?
Her hand drifts down her stomach under the covers. She casts a silencing charm over her bed.
There is…one way to relax. That she hasn't done in a while.
Her mind's eye drifts to her bedroom back home. And the box under the bed. With the vibrator inside, that Ginny got for her as a joke for her birthday, saying she needed to loosen up.
A box she never opened. Too embarrassed.
She does need to loosen up! What's wrong with her? Why is she so repressed? She's a feminist! She should be—
She stifles a laugh as she imagines ordering a vibrator through owl post. If any of the professors or house-elves spotted it—
Don't think about professors right now. Ugh, she just thought of Filch. Go away! Go—
She rolls over. Grumbles to herself and closes her eyes. Sleep. Just go to sleep.
Chapter 20: Come in and out of HidingNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ron's mouth falls open. "I missed all of that? Harry, why didn't you bloody wake me up and tell me last night?!" he hisses, looking around to check no-one is listening in as they trudge down the hill to Care of Magical Creatures. Luckily no-one seems to be paying them any attention, too busy keeping a hold of their scarves and cloaks in the howling wind. This is the worst day to be heading towards a pumpkin patch and blast-ended skrewts.
"You were snoring your head off!" Harry shouts. "And you'd been ill! I wasn't going to wake you up just to—"
"—to tell me absolutely everything! Snoring? I'm always snoring! Next time just poke me and—"
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!" comes a shout from behind them.
Draco?
Draco comes jogging up to them, the other Slytherins frowning confusedly, looking up to watch.
He stops next to Ron. "I've got a proposition to make, Weasley. See, I don't feel like dealing with these blast-ended abominations today. So when we're told to pair up, or get into groups or whatever the great oaf tells us to do, I think you're going to pair up with me and sort it out for me. And in return, you can copy the Herbology notes that you were too stupid to understand."
What? Herbology notes? They just had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and Ron managed fine.
But Ron's eyes widen and he quickly nods. "Yeah, uhh…sure. I mean, you're sure? Maybe Neville could—"
Draco nods. "You're right. The size of those things?"
He looks down his nose at the skrewts as they all get closer to the pumpkin patch. "They'll definitely need two people to handle them. Longbottom! Come here and work with Weasley!"
What is happening? What the—
"Ignore him, Neville," Harry shouts as Neville looks over panickedly. "Don't let him boss you around."
And he pulls Ron a step away from Draco. "Mate, what are you doing? What—"
"Err…right," Hagrid says confusedly as he comes over. "All of you gather 'round then. Tha's it."
He rubs his hands together and gestures to the skrewts and some large wooden crates that he's spread out and filled with blankets and hay. "See, with winter coming in and all, I thought these lot might want to hibernate. So I've got each o' them a nice bed, and uhh…well, we'll see how it goes! As Malfoy said, it'll take some handlin', so get into groups."
Everyone looks around and reluctantly moves closer to their friends, Draco for some reason studying his nails and staying stood next to Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
Hagrid beams at the sight of them. "Good! Great! Of you go, then!"
And Draco marches off towards the skrewt that's furthest away. "This one's smallest. You'll be done faster, and I can get inside. Weasley! Keep up!"
Ron huffs and rolls his eyes. But follows after him.
Hermione shares a very confused look with Harry and follows, jogging to the far end of the pumpkin patch beside some large rocks.
And they all crouch down near the skrewt's head, avoiding claws and it's blasting back end, none of them even attempting to get it near the box.
"Muffiliato," Ron whispers, looking around.
Then turns on Malfoy. "What was that?! I didn't agree to that! Now everyone thinks I'm your bloody house-elf and too stupid to—"
"You wanted to talk, didn't you? Malfoy hisses back. "So talk! But don't look at me. Do you realise what Nott will say if he sees me talking to you lot?"
"Why are you talking to us?" Harry asks. "What's going on?"
Draco glares at him. And Hermione. "That's the question you should be answering, Potter. Or more like Granger. What's going on between you and my aunt? Why would she save someone like you? Why would she even speak to— Why did she give Longbottom that book? And you knew about it. You and Potter knew about a plant that cures memory loss, and you told Longbottom not to give it to me. You—"
There are shouts and screams from around them, everyone else battling their skrewts, who seem very reluctant to hibernate. Obviously. They're crustaceans. Burying them in sand would probably be more appropriate. Or just leaving them alone.
"Not to worry!" Hagrid bellows. "Easy does it! They're more scared of you, than—"
Some of the class run into the edge of the forest, the skrewts beginning to go on a bit of a rampage. Parkinson and the other Slytherins even head for Hagrid's hut and shut themselves in.
Hermione casts an immobulus at their skrewt before it gets any ideas, hovering the box down on top of it and backing away, gesturing for the others to follow.
She ducks behind an oak tree. "Look, Draco. I can't really explain right now. I get that you're angry, but—"
"Angry?!" Draco yells. Then more quietly, practically spitting at her. Cheeks red. Coming towards her so she's backing across the grounds. "She obliviated my mother and now you're somehow…working with her! She sent the broom back! Spoke to you! She— you have a book that she gave you, that she's keeping from my mother, and you're—"
"And why is that?!" Hermione finally snaps. Stops backing away and glares him down. Stands her ground. "Hmm? What do you think would have happened if she wasn't obliviated? Why are you really angry, Draco, because from what I can see, Bellatrix saved me, she tried to talk to you, and she saved your mother from being investigated by the aurors for harbouring a wanted criminal! Or what do you think would be happening right now if your mother had her memories? Memories of her?"
Draco pauses. Breathing fast, and wand still held tightly, but face conflicted. Wary.
Hermione presses on. "Why do you hate your aunt, Draco? Do you hate her for protecting your Mother? Do you hate her for being a Death Eater? Or for not being one? Do you hate her for saving me, and teaching Harry, and helping Neville, and—"
"She took my mother from me!" Draco yells again, this time raw, and whiney, and childish, and—
He stomps his foot. "I knew about her!" comes bursting out of his mouth. "I knew she was there. She was always there. I saw her through the keyhole. Through the door. I saw her hiding under her cloak. I saw her with her rat, and her birds, and plants, talking to Dobby and— I remember her. I knew. I knew she wasn't dead. I saw Mother sneak away to her. Make excuses. Pretend she had a headache, or was writing letters, or going out to buy new robes. And I kept her secret. I didn't tell Father. I let them lie to him. I told him Mother spent the day with me rather than her. I kept whatever their secret was, and now— now—"
He runs out of steam. Realises what he's revealed. Takes a step back. "She doesn't care, you know," he whispers harshly. "Not like normal people do. She doesn't understand what caring is. What love is. It's just…a game to her. She cares until she doesn't. And then she moves on to something else. And if you don't believe me? Ask her. Ask her how many rats she's had. Do you really think she cares? That this is the first Ratty?"
Uhh…
Hermione glances at Harry and Ron, not quite…
"Rats don't live very long," she whispers back. "And…she does care. I think. She…Did she care about you? Talk to you? Is that it? Are you angry she left? That she didn't warn you before—"
Draco raises his wand at her. "Where is she, Granger? Where's she hiding this time? Is she here at the school? Is she hiding with you?"
Hermione raises her own wand. "No! No, she's not—"
"Then where is she? Where did you and Potter go yesterday? You weren't here all evening. You missed dinner. And from how defensive you're being, I think you weren't alone. So where—"
"We don't know!" Harry says. "We can't tell you! We don't know where she went! But— are you saying she's not safe? That she'll turn on people?"
"Not safe?!" Draco squawks. "Of course she's not safe! Just ask Longbottom! So if you know anything—"
"We can't tell you!" Hermione grits out. "She's gone somewhere that we can't tell you. Somewhere far away. You're safe. She told me that she wants to stay away from your mother. To keep her safe."
"Well, she'd better," Draco mutters. Looks over to where people are beginning to head to lunch, Pansy waiting for him, brow furrowed. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from her too. Not that I care if she hurts you anyway."
And he walks off, crashing through some long grass and then up the slope, up towards the castle.
They watch him go.
Ron clears his throat. "So…Neville told Malfoy about the book, by the way."
"Yeah, thanks Ron. Think we got that," Harry says dryly.
Hermione doesn't say anything. Doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know…
So Bellatrix doesn't care? Doesn't understand what caring is?
I was nice to Siri, and joked with him, and shared with him, and tried to help him…
How can I make him let me in?
Make him.
Is that what Bellatrix was talking about? Was she just…faking it? Following the steps? Like a code? Joke. Share. Help. Then people will forgive you and let you in.
But that…that is being nice. She's just making amends. Just—
She was hiding this whole time. Even from Lucius. Biding her time. Planning something with Narcissa and…Dobby? Did Draco say she spoke to Dobby?
A warming spell washes over her. Harry.
"Come on," he says gently. "Let's get back inside for lunch. And don't let Draco get to you. You know what he's like. You can't take what he says literally, I mean, he's so dramatic. Remember what he said about Buckbeak?"
Right. Yes. Of course. Buckbeak was innocent, and Malfoy…
Hermione turns as they climb the hill. Turns to search out the mountain. The cave.
Looks for a hippogriff. A hippogriff that was left behind.
Left to be free.
Draco doesn't speak to them again that week, but his words linger. Harry sends a letter to Sirius, asking if he's okay. If he's safe. If he's feeling better.
No reply.
And no message from Bellatrix either. No owls. No crows. The manhunt is still underway, aurors stationed at the school gate or patrolling the grounds, protection charms in place, interviews in the Prophet every day with Fudge or Crouch or other high ranking officials in the DMLE. It's clear that all eyes are on Harry and Hermione. Professors watching closely. Pityingly. Warily.
On Thursday, after the announcement of the Yule Ball in transfiguration class, McGonagall asks her to hang back. To come to her office.
They walk up there in uncomfortable silence. Hermione is so unsure recently about what she's doing that she can't bring herself to speak up, and McGonagall doesn't try to talk to her.
Until they're inside. Then McGonagall hovers the chairs from her desk over to the fire. Summons a tea tray. Sits down and gives her a firm look. "Have a seat, Miss Granger. And a biscuit. You're looking rather peaky."
Oh. It's that noticeable? She's been having trouble sleeping. Keeps dreaming about…the future.
She dutifully takes a bite of shortbread. Accepts the steaming cup of tea.
McGonagall nods approvingly. "Now. Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about?"
Hermione forces a smile. Shakes her head. "I'm fine, Professor. I think it's just the cold weather. I'm just a bit worn out. I'll be fine once we break up for Christmas. It's been...a long term."
McGonagall sighs. Sips at her own tea. "It certainly has. Especially for you. You're giving Mr Potter a run for his money. And giving me grey hairs," she says, a twitch to her lip.
Hermione laughs. "I am sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to."
She just gets a hum in reply. They sip at their tea.
Hermione stares into the flames. Enjoys the peace. The warm silence. McGonagall is still very intimidating…but also a relief to be around. Someone she can trust completely. Who never changes. Always has their interest and wellbeing at heart.
Should she ask…?
No. What did Snape say? She's too quick to tell people things. It's time travel. She can't. Even McGonagall told her the rules of time travel. That she shouldn't change anything. Let alone everything that's already different. She could give the witch a heart attack!
Hermione puts down her cup. Asks another question instead. "Umm…I was actually wondering, Professor. About the partners for the Yule Ball—"
McGonagall sighs heavily. "I'm afraid it is mandatory. Champions must open the Ball with a dance. It's tradition. I can find you a book on dancing etiquette if you are not familiar with—"
"Do I have to go with a wizard?" Hermione blurts out. Makes herself say. Feels her heart quicken and her face flush, but ignores it. "Can I— you said the wizards should ask witches but— but what if— can I ask a witch?"
Oh gods she thinks she might die of embarrassment.
It's fine. It's fine! You're gay. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just possible that same-sex couples aren't allowed because of the dancing rules. Ballroom is usually male-female.
"I…assume you have a witch in mind?" McGonagall asks slowly. Carefully. "And if I am correct in guessing which one…that is quite the statement, Miss Granger. Witch or otherwise."
Oh.
Fleur? Because Fleur's a champion?
And McGonagall noticed Fleur flirting? Well that is just mortifying. What have they been talking about in the staff room? Are people always watching her and—
"Not— it doesn't have to be her," Hermione splutters. "I just— going with a wizard would be lying. Hiding. I don't want to…lie."
She looks up. McGonagall is smiling at her softly. "And that is…very courageous of you. Five points to Gryffindor."
Hermione lets out a breath. "But stupid. Is that what you're saying?"
Now McGonagall laughs. "I would certainly never call you stupid. But I do wonder what this will say to Mr Krum and Durmstrang. Two of three champions attending the Ball together? It does seem like an alliance."
Hermione grins. "Well I could always ask Viktor too. Rita Skeeter would be happy. Not so sure about the parents though. Or Crouch. Or how we'd dance."
"Partner," McGonagall glares. "One partner, Miss Granger. Or you will succeed in sending me to an early grave."
Then she stands. "It is up to you who you ask to attend. There is certainly nothing in the rules prohibiting it. I myself would not see a problem in you inviting Mademoiselle Delacour. Or any other witch. For the rest of the school…I cannot say. It is for you to decide."
Right. Okay.
Hermione stands too and heads for the door. "Thank you, Professor. I'll keep it in mind. And thank you for the tea and…for…well…"
McGonagall just raises an eyebrow.
Then transforms into a cat. Seemingly for no reason. Walks out of the door ahead of her, and off down a corridor.
Hermione…sometimes forgets she's an animagus. Can just…decide to do that.
Can Hermione still feel her magic? McGonagall.
Yes. Still there. Stronger, even.
Well. She'd better leave. She has a free period now, but she can't exactly hang around in McGonagall's—
A cracking sound interrupts her thoughts, making her jump.
Oh.
"Kreacher?" she says cautiously, blinking confusedly at the grumpy elf hunched before her.
Kreacher glares up at her. "Mudblood filth," he mutters. "What would Mistress say? Bringing shame to the Noble House of Black. Bloodtraitors and—"
Hermione sighs. "Well? Why are you here then?"
Kreacher stops. Literally bites his tongue, and then clicks his fingers. A scroll of parchment appears. "From…Mistress Bellatrix."
Oh. Not from Sirius. Right.
She cautiously takes it. He clings on. "Kreacher— will you— please give it—"
She yanks it free. "Thank you. Now…"
Gosh. It's very long. What is she…
Dear Granger,
Sorry in advance for Kreacher, he's not quite right in the head. I've tried talking him around, but he's not having it. Still, he'll do as I say and shouldn't bother you. (If he does, tell me. Or tell him that I know where he keeps his treasures).
Anyway, bit off track. Guess what? I'm in! Wagtail caved. Or actually the ceiling caved in. He set off a load of wards and nearly got us blown up. We reckon we've sorted it now though. Mostly. The doxies are a pain in the arse. Sometimes literally, I've got even more potions to brew against the bites. You'd think I'd be done brewing after all that polyjuice…
What I really wanted to say, was thanks for the advice. And that Wagtail is doing better…physically. Mentally, I'm not so sure. Which is a bit fucking worrying with our family history (Can I joke about that? Is it too soon? I'm going to joke about it anyway, seeing as you seem to like me even though you know I went around the twist). Anyway, he could do with some cheering up. Light in the dark and all that shit Dumbledore goes on about. He needs a friend. Someone he trusts. Potter was right about Moony…but I might be in a bit of trouble if he shows up.
So, again. I don't know. Just wanted to talk to someone.
The next task is in March, isn't it? Have you figured out your egg? (Or did you already know the answer? From the future you won't tell me about?) Either way, I recognised what mine was. Haven't had the chance to stick it in the water yet though. All the baths here are rusting away or full of sludge and who knows what else. I'd probably come out Blacker than when I got in. (I might force Wagtail in one soon though. Wet dog is better than what he has going on).
Salazar, I'm writing a long-arse essay. But it serves you right. Your essays are always longer than the limit. And too wordy. I've seen more than one professor fall asleep on your essay, sorry, Granger. So if you fall asleep finishing this, then I'll call it a success.
I think I just miss talking to someone. Someone who listens. That's why I like talking to you.
I'm sure you'll tell Potter all of this, but I'll send some love from Wagtail too. I talk about Potter as much as I can. As much as he lets me. It's good to remind him about Potter.
I think
No. I won't tell you yet. I have to be sure first. But it should work. It's risky, but out of my options…
Sorry. I know that will drive you mad. I'll stop now. How do you end a letter?
Faithfully yours,
Bellatrix Black
P.S. You might want to destroy this. Probably sensible.
P.P.S. Kreacher should go and get some of my stuff now, so if Lovegood is wondering where it went, that's what happened. Although she likely already knows somehow. Little genius. Weird that, isn't it? How does she do it?
P.P.P.S. It's probably better if you don't write back, as an owl might not make it through the wards. They're still a bit strong. You could reply by house-elf if you have/know one. A reliable one. Don't ask Dobby, he could blab to anyone. Another one who's missing a few gobstones.
P.P.P.P.S. …I'm looking forward to seeing the photos from the Yule Ball in the Prophet. Shame I can't be there in person. I have just the dress. I'll have to show you later. Or you can just picture me in whatever springs to mind. I'm curious, is it black? Slytherin green? Gryffindor red?
There go my boundaries again. Tell me to stop.
Or don't.
Uhh…
Fuck.
Well…if she had any doubts that Bellatrix was flirting, then they've gone straight out the window. And where have her cryptic half-sentences disappeared to? That was…
Chatty. Flirty and friendly and chatty. Like she is in person. More than she is in person.
Hermione rolls the note up. Remembers where she is.
Kreacher is gone. So…
She puts the scroll in her pocket, and just…absentmindedly walks out of the room and down the corridor. Feet carrying her along.
So…that's good news, right? She does care. About Hermione, and Harry, and Sirius, and even the owls that might get killed by the wards.
Acknowledged that she went crazy. Went 'around the twist'. Which— She knew? Is she talking about a different version of herself? Or did she…go crazy too? Did she torture the Longbottoms? But— why— this is all so—
A dress…
Hermione is going to need a dress. There's only two weeks until the Ball, and— well—
She could wear the one from last time. But she's not sure she wants the memories that go with it. She wants a fresh start. A new look. A new…
Argh, does she want to look good for Bellatrix now? Just because she mentioned it? That is so misogynistic, and objectifying herself and—
Bellatrix not in black? In…red, or green?
Fuck. Shit. She's imagining it. And even in black—ah!
Her arms windmill as she falls backwards, smacking into a hard chest and—
A hand shoots out and grabs her, unbelievably fast. "Hermowninny! Are you okay?"
She blinks. Takes a breath. Hanging there for a second before she rights herself. "Yes. Viktor. Hi. Yes. Wasn't looking, or thinking, or…how are you?"
He smiles at her awkwardly. "I…am good. Very good. And is good I see you. Can we talk?"
He gestures to an empty classroom. Where even are they?
Oh no. Is he…nervous? Happy but nervous? Oh no. Not the Ball. Please don't—
She goes into the room. Can't think of an excuse. They sit at a table.
He clears his throat. "So…I think you are very interesting witch, and very good friend. I am glad you are champion. Even if you are young, you are good. Clever. Strong."
No no no no
He frowns. Searches for a word. Then shakes his head. "I try to say more. But all I can say is…will you go to the Ball with me?"
Shit.
Hermione swallows. She could do this again. McGonagall is right, it won't be easy if she goes with a witch. Even if it's not Fleur, there'll be some judgement. She doesn't think there were any same-sex couples last time. Not even Seamus and Dean went together.
Oh.
Nobody. Which means…there must have been some people in the closet.
So…
She grits her teeth. Right. Be brave. Be an example. You're a champion, you fought in a war, you can do this.
She smiles sadly at Viktor…and shakes her head. "Viktor…you're a very good friend. And a very good champion. I'm glad I'm competing with you too. But…well, you see, I don't like wizards. I'm going to go to the Ball…with a witch. If I can. If a witch wants to go with me. I'm sorry, but we can only be friends."
He stares at her. Slowly nods back. "O…oh. I…understand."
Then he frowns again. "Even as friends? We go as friends? I not…want more. I not ask for kiss. Just dance and talk."
Hermione sighs in relief. Shakes her head again. "Really? You don't want to go with a witch that likes you? You have…dozens of witches following you around. You don't like any of them?"
He groans through a smile. Embarrassedly. "Only annoying ones talk to me! They follow, they laugh, they don't talk. But…I understand. You go with witch. Is good."
And he gets up. Walks towards the door. Then pauses. "It is Fleur? She is witch?"
He knows too? Oh for…
She sighs . Gives up. Shrugs tiredly. "I don't know. Maybe."
Is Fleur too young? Too…interested? She just wants to try it. One date. With one witch. With no pressure, or expectations. Nothing serious.
Is Fleur too serious? Not serious-serious, but…
Will Hermione break her heart?
But who else could she ask? She doesn't know anyone other than Ginny and Luna, and they're just too young—
Gah! But everyone thinks she's fifteen! If she asks anyone—
Fleur. Ask Fleur. Just explain to her that you're new to this gay thing and that anything serious will freak you out! Just tell her the truth!
Not the whole truth. You can't. But be as truthful as you can.
Viktor stops. They've reached the library. Apparently that's where they were going.
He smiles at her. Points to a far corner, and then squeezes her shoulder. "Good luck, my friend."
Hermione follows his…Fleur. Sat alone, writing.
Now?! No! She can't—
She frantically shakes her head at Viktor.
He just walks away. To a different table. Where Harry and Ron are sat.
They're here too? Since when does everyone spend their time in the library?
Since it's blowing a gale outside, and they have essays due next week before the end of term.
Short essays. She needs to shorten her essays. Unless Bellatrix was joking and—
Is that Roger Davies walking over to Fleur?
Hermione quickly makes her way over. Only just beats Davies, who stops nearby, looking at a bookshelf.
Pretending to look at a bookshelf. Unless he's especially interested in the history of quillmaking.
Fleur looks up at her. Smiles. "Hermione! This is a pleasant surprise. I did not see you in here all of yesterday evening. Or at dinner. I heard that some of your friends were sick from swimming with Viktor, did you…swim too?"
She raises an eyebrow. Doesn't seem especially worried. Taps her quill on the parchment.
Oh.
Merfolk. She's researching merfolk. Golden eggs.
Hermione smiles. "In this weather? Of course I didn't swim. I'm sensible. I'll…wait until the weather warms up to take a dip in the lake."
Fleur's eyes glint. She leans forward on her arms. "Here?" she whispers. "This lake? It is this lake?"
She doesn't know where the task will be? Madame Maxime hasn't told her?
Hermione bites her lip, pretending to consider it. "I thought we were rivals? In fact, maybe I shouldn't be speaking with you. If Madame Maxime—"
Fleur reaches forward and takes her hand. "I am tired of Madame Maxime. She is my headmistress, not my mother. And even my mother cannot tell me what to do. Who I want to spend my time with. A competition? Yes. A fair competition? Well…I hope so. A good competition."
She squeezes Hermione's hand and then lets go. Shrugs casually. "I intend to beat you, you know. And Viktor. You will see. I will be the champion."
Hermione gasps loudly in complete— "You seem very sure of yourself! After asking me for—"
She hastily breaks off, Madam Pince shushing her from across the room, and lots of people looking.
Fleur starts writing again. Chuckles. "I did not ask you. I…found the information. From you."
Hmmph.
Fleur glances up at her.
Then puts her quill down with a sigh. "Do not be angry with me, Cherie. I hate to see you frown. So. Perhaps I will make you smile instead, yes?"
Umm…how?
Fleur leans forward again. Leans to whisper in her ear. "Will you go to the Ball with me, ma belle?"
Oh.
Belle. Beautiful? Oh no. That sounds serious. That sounds—
Fleur pulls back to look at her. Frowns.
Then rolls her eyes and gets to her feet. "Come. Walk with me. Somewhere we can talk."
Hermione gets to her feet, hurrying after her as she leaves. Talk? Oh no, they need to talk. Is she cross? Is she upset? Should Hermione have said something by now? She could say yes. Why didn't she—
And she's pushed through a door. Into a cupboard. Why—
Fleur shuts the door behind them. Locks it with a collaportus.
This is a broom cupboard. Hermione is standing with one foot in a bucket. In the dark.
Fleur leans against the wall opposite her, just about visible. Laughs quietly. "You are so quiet. It is alright. I am not about to devour you."
Hermione swallows. Devour her? Did…Fleur mean to say that? Does she know it means— in the dark? In a cupboard? In—
"Do you trust me, Hermione? Am I your friend?" Fleur asks.
Hermione instantly nods. Then remembers she can't see her. "Yes. Of course you're my friend. I trust you."
Fleur sighs. "Then…tell me. Your answer. And why. The truth, away from all the other people."
Right. Okay. Yes. Time to explain.
Hermione shifts. Moves her foot out of the bucket. Steadies herself, and, well… "I would like to go with you," Hermione says slowly. "I've never been to a dance with a witch before."
"And I do like you," she adds as quickly as possible. Gets it out. "I just— I don't want this to ruin our friendship, because I'm not looking for— I'm not ready for a relationship. I only just realised that I like witches, I've never even kissed a witch, and relationships kind of scare me. I guess I must have commitment issues. But you're my friend, so if anything happened— but I do want to experience this, and I do like you, and you're so beautiful, I can't believe you asked me to the Ball, I was going to ask you, and I've noticed you flirting but I don't have a clue what I'm doing and—"
Fleur starts laughing, and a hand covers Hermione's mouth in the dark. "So…you want to go to the Ball with me, and you think I am beautiful, and your friend, but you don't want any commitment afterwards because it scares you? You just want this one night?" she says gently, warmth in her voice as the laughter fades.
Hermione slowly nods, mouth still held shut.
Fleur moves her hand away. "Then we are still friends. And it is a shame, but I don't mind having you for only one night. It is alright. I like you, Hermione. But I don't want you to worry. To be scared. Do not worry for my feelings. My passion is…always strong. Fast. Here today and gone tomorrow. That is why I joke with you. Flirt with you. To feel it before it is gone. I have lost count of the number of times in my life I have been in love."
Hermione relaxes. And leans forward, intrigued, trying to catch Fleur's eye. To see if she's telling the truth. "Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better about…this one-time thing?"
A hand smacks hers lightly. "You are calling me a liar? After I ask you to a Ball and speak of love? Yes. It is the truth. In fact, I think I am in love with someone else already."
Someone else? "Who? At the same time as me? You…love me too?"
Fleur laughs. Leans forward against her. Wraps an arm around her waist, and leans to rest her head against Hermione's shoulder. Ear pressed to her, breath against Hermione's neck. "I will not tell you who. Because you already sound jealous. I thought you did not want commitment?"
Hermione steadies her breathing. Feels her palms begin to sweat. She doesn't know what to do with her arms. If she can touch. If she should touch, or—
She clears her throat. Touches Fleur's back. "No commitment. I'm not jealous. I— and I like someone else too."
Fleur freezes. Stands up straight again. "Please do not say Viktor."
Wha— Viktor?!
"No!" Hermione says quickly. "I don't like Viktor! That was all lies and— I'm gay! Do you like Viktor? Is that who you—"
"No! Not Viktor! This is lies, this is why I am surprised!" Fleur shouts back.
They fall into silence.
Hermione laughs. "Well then. Good. We're going to the Ball together. Because…you love me."
Love. Fleur said she was taking about love. Falls in love easily. Love. Should she really—
"And because you think I am beautiful," Fleur replies easily. "And have never been to a dance with a witch. Which is a tragedy, ma belle. Why not? Why have you never asked a witch to dance? It is wonderful. What about this other witch you say you like, hmm? Where is she? Is it…the red-haired little girl?"
Ginny?!
"No," Hermione groans. "She's…a little girl! Like you said! Only thirteen, and my friend, and— no the— there isn't really a witch I like. Just one that— that I've realised I…might be attracted to. I haven't— I'm new to this, Fleur. I'm not like you. I can't just…admit my feelings so freely. It's scary!"
She hears Fleur moving around. Then feels an arm brush hers against the wall. A warm body at her side. "Sometimes I forget you are only fifteen," Fleur murmurs.
Oh. Right. "Well…I used a time-turner for a year. So I'm actually sixteen," Hermione mutters. Half-truth. Half blatant lie. Plus that logic makes her twenty-six. Even older than Fleur.
Fleur's hand finds hers. "Alright. But this…is still new to you. I see. I see why you are frightened. I was frightened, when I realised…but I was only ten."
Ten? Wow, Hermione really was slow on this whole sexual awakening thing.
The hand squeezes hers. "Witches are beautiful," Fleur murmurs. "Or they can be handsome, too. Even when they are doing nothing. Have you seen a witch stand? Have you seen a witch write? Or gesture when she talks? Or pick up a drink? Incredible, aren't they? Some witches? The ones our heart chooses."
Hermione nods mutely.
Fleur's fingers stroke over her wrist. She sighs. "Or the ones our body chooses. That is okay too. To feel it. There is no shame. The attraction you feel…it is telling you. That one. Get closer to her. She is special. There is something about her that you like. Move closer. Touch her. Feel it."
Hermione shivers as fingers brush over her arm. Can feel it. Can feel—
"Witches are beautiful," Hermione whispers back. "When they— when they smile. Or laugh. Or even when they're angry. When they walk, or sit, or— You're right. I don't know how I never noticed. How did I not know? You knew when you were ten. I— gods, I must be so stupid."
"You know why you are stupid?" Fleur asks. A very sly edge to her voice.
Hermione turns. Squints. Tries to figure out her expression. Can only see the shine to her hair. Maybe pinpoint her eyes. And a smile.
Fingers brush over her shoulders. "You are stupid," Fleur continues. "Because we have been here for several minutes. And you have not tried to kiss me. Even though you want to, and I want to."
Kiss? Now? "But— but we said— the Ball. One night," Hermione stutters.
Fleur laughs again. Then groans. "You're so sensible! So serious! Do you always follow the rules? I thought that you broke the rules. Like the tournament. You saw what you wanted, and you did it anyway. Do you not want me at all? Am I just practice? For this other witch? That you are too scared to ask?"
Gah, Hermione shouldn't have mentioned Bellatrix. And— and it's not about the rules. It's just to keep things simple. "I just don't want to complicate things, Fleur," Hermione sighs. "Because I'm not just using you. It's…been so nice competing with you. Talking to you this year. But my feelings aren't as strong as yours. We're not in the same place."
She feels breath on her cheek. Feels Fleur lean closer. "And I told you that I always feel more. Perhaps it is the Veela. I don't know. But I have…freedom with witches. The thrall does not affect you, so I know it is you that wants me. With wizards, I have to be careful. Have to be cold. Have to push them away. Except now I don't, because you are clever, and you think of a shield for me. You have allowed me to feel. To love. Without fear. I just want the same for you."
And just as Hermione remembers to breathe, Fleur has pulled back. Moves through the dark. Past the bucket and towards the door. "But if you are not ready, are not in this place, just want to dance, and eat, and talk, then I—"
"Wait," Hermione whispers. Reaches out a hand in the darkness. Pulse beating in her ears but…
Feel. She wants to feel. Wants to let this...confusion leave. This fear leave. Wants to accept that—
Attraction. She's attracted to witches. And she wants to—
She finds Fleur's arm. Tugs her back over. Both of them laughing as the bucket clanks around on the floor between them, trying to kick it out of the way.
Fleur. Magic. Did she just vanish it? Why didn't Hermione think of that?
Or a light. Does she want a light?
Different universe. Sexual exploration. No consequences.
Hermione should probably remind herself of the consequences. "Lumos," she whispers.
And squints against the light. Lowers her wand as much as possible, and blinks her eyes open.
Fleur does the same, arm shielding her face and nose wrinkled.
Young Fleur. Eighteen-year-old Fleur. A Fleur who falls in love easily. Strongly. Hermione never knew that. Should have guessed, from how quickly she married Bill.
And is now wondering if maybe their marriage is more open than she realised, or if Fleur falls in love less as she gets older. Or maybe loves Bill more than anyone. Chose him over everyone. That's what marriage is.
For the love of Merlin, stop thinking about marriage, and—
Hermione just does it. Steps forward. Leans in. Fleur is watching her now. Has lowered her arm. Is waiting, smiling softly.
She's so pretty.
So yes. Screw it. Fleur wants this. She wants this.
She presses her lips to Fleur's.
Then immediately pulls back. Because oh gods, what is she thinking, she's kissing Fleur. She shouldn't—
Fleur tuts. "That's it? I thought you were a champion! Come! Face your fear. Get what you want. I can see that you want me. It is in your eyes. You think I don't recognise—"
Hermione leans in again. Grabs the witch, and pulls her against her. Brings their lips together. Kisses her. Feels her. Because Hermione is brave. And she does want this. And she needs to get over whatever stupid, mental…fuck, this is what kissing a witch is like? Kissing someone she's attracted to?
A shiver washes over her. She pulls Fleur closer, who melts into her. Hermione feels her back hit the wall as Fleur leans her whole body against her. Deepens the kiss. Hermione thinks every part of her might be buzzing and she definitely wants to— well she definitely—
Fleur breaks her lips away. "Now I am finally warm enough in this castle. So this is the solution," she murmurs. Kisses Hermione again. And she does feel warm. Feel—
Castle. At Hogwarts. At school. Wearing a school uniform. That Fleur's hands are edging under.
Hermione pulls back with a laughing gasp. "Fleur. Fleur, wait, we— we're at school! It's a Thursday! It's the middle of the day!"
Fleur shrugs. Leans forward again. "We can skip lunch."
Tempting. Very tempting. Too tempting— no! Be the sensible one, Hermione. Someone has to be.
She firmly pushes Fleur back. Lights her wand again. "We need to get back. People will wonder where we are, and it's not— we can't— I'm going back outside. Does my hair look okay?"
Fleur sighs. "Yes," she grumbles. "I did not even touch your hair yet. But…you are right. It is not appropriate to stay in this…closet."
Hermione snorts. "Did you say that on purpose?"
Fleur frowns at her. "Is it the wrong word? It is not a room, or a…wardrobe. Closet?"
Hermione shakes her head. "A cupboard. But— kind of a closet. You don't know the…coming out? We're going to come out."
Fleur nods in recognition. "Ah. Le coming-out. That I understand."
And she brushes her clothes down. Uncreases them. Does the same to Hermione, tugging her robes back into place. "There. I think…you are ready. Are you ready?"
Hermione just watches her for a second. Can't believe she just…
Yes. Yes, what is she waiting for? What is she scared of?
Hermione smiles at her. Walks to the door, and rests her hand on the doorknob. "Ready when you are, ma belle," she winks at Fleur. Winks. She's never winked in her life!
But Bellatrix winks sometimes, and it feels…
She pushes the door open. Just a crack. Checks the coast is clear, everyone at lunch…
Comes out. With Fleur. Out into the—
A cat is sat watching them. From the end of the corridor. By the corner.
Not Mrs Norris.
But they've still been caught. McGonagall
A laugh bursts from Hermione's mouth. She can't help it. Oh no! Oh she really hopes—
The cat stands up. Stretches.
Shakes her head at them.
And walks off around the corner.
Fleur takes her hand. "What? It is only a cat. Come. Have lunch with me. And tell me what dress you are going to wear. If we are going together we cannot…what is the word…the colours need to agree in some way…"
Hermione shakes her head and lets herself be walked along. Hand in Fleur's. Fights the fear. Enjoys it. Fleur. Fleur wants to hold her hand. Good Godric. The old Ron would have fainted at this. Although the shrieks she'll get when Lavender and Parvati find out will be— and Ginny! She can't wait to tell Ginny.
"I…don't actually have a dress," Hermione says. "Well, I do. But I'm not sure it's the one I want. I'll show you later."
…I have just the dress. I'll have to show you later. Or you can just picture me in whatever springs to mind…
Her palms begin to sweat. She pulls her hand from Fleur's. Smiles apologetically.
Fleur smiles back. "I'm sure I can help you find the perfect dress. Something to make you feel confident. You should be confident. That is why I like you, you know. You are brave. You have fear…but you face it anyway. You do not let it stop you. Or let it show, most of the time. When you are not trapped in the closet."
Hermione laughs. Notices the glint to Fleur's eyes. "You do know you're saying it! You must know what you're saying. Don't play dumb with me, Fleur. You're not dumb. You're very clever."
Fleur grins. Shrugs. "You reminded me of the phrase. So yes. Shall we go and make everyone's mouths fall open? Even the girls? Even the grumpy and strange professors? Shall I kiss you in front of the whole school?"
Hermione laughs again. Takes her hand again. "For now, let's just sit together. This is a school. No kissing at the table."
Fleur scoffs. "I am French. We always kiss at the table." And she kisses Hermione's cheek to demonstrate.
A nearby hufflepuff boy walks into a pillar.
Fleur sighs. "Fichu bouclier," she curses to herself, before waving her wand to form the Veela shield. Ah. The corridors are getting more crowded. Boys staring.
Hermione hesitates…
Then puts an arm around Fleur. Around her waist. Shields her. Holds her. Stop staring. Will they just stop it? Can't they fight it? It isn't that hard, snap out of it!
Fleur laughs quietly in her ear. "As I thought. Jealous…"
Notes:So.... Hermione did kiss a witch!
(Not quite the right one. She's getting there. Pitchforks down please haha)