mickume/harry_potter_tiny · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 12 10.4k
Hermione nodded, "Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts," she offered. "That’s incredible, Harry. I’m jealous of how much you’ll learn."
"Thanks. It seems pretty interesting, anyway."
An awkward pause pulled between them before Hermione cleared her throat. "I wanted to say thank you, as well, for what Slughorn said. It sounded like you stood up for me."
"Yeah, well, he was being a bit of a wanker at the time," Harry said as he looked away. "I know what you’re doing is for Dumbledore. I’ll speak to him because I don’t think it’s fair that you have to..." he trailed off before looking back at her. "It shouldn’t be your job to look after her."
"It’s not looking after her. She’s not a pet, she’s a person, and she’s not that bad. Could you imagine who you’d be if every memory was gone...of your friends, family...everything? I think memories make us who we are, building on top of what we’re born with," she explained, thinking about how Bellatrix had grown over the Summer.
"What if she’s evil?" Harry asked. "Born...rotten."
"You saw Sirius’ house. He turned out different. Don’t you think that had much to do with the fact that he became best friends with your dad on the train? If he didn’t, then maybe he wouldn’t have been sorted in Gryffindor, and maybe he wouldn’t be your godfather. That family was horrendous."
Harry grimaced, "They sure may the Dursleys look like a loving family," he said before sighing. "I don’t think I can trust her."
"I don’t expect you to make friends with her. I understand you don’t trust her, but she doesn’t remember. Maybe if you speak to Dumbledore, you’ll see she’s just a girl. You could treat her like she was an exchange student from Durmstrang. You’d also be suspicious of her if that was the truth, wouldn’t you?"
"Do you really think she doesn’t remember anything after seeing her duel, though?"
"I think the way we understand memories is complicated. She’s had every opportunity to do something and make it look like an accident. Harry, if you’re right about Draco, and while I don’t think he’s a full-blown..." she trailed off in case anyone was listening in on their conversation, though the common room was quiet of most others. "But if You-Know-Who has got him in some sort of...youth initiative as a way to encourage him to join after Hogwarts, then...why would he need her here?"
Harry frowned. "To look over him, maybe?"
"Wouldn’t it make sense if You-Know-Who lost his most trusted advisor and a lot of other senior members, so that's why he's trying to get younger recruits?" she said, pausing to reference the other death eaters that had been caught at the ministry. "He would be desperate enough to get some kids to do his dirty work, then."
Harry considered her words. "Possibly," he said. "But I still don’t trust her."
"That’s fine. Maybe just be neutral towards her, to begin with? I miss you and Ron."
"You could always spend less time with her," Harry pointed out, nodding to the stairs. Hermione sucked in a breath, looking at the stairs as Bellatrix began to descend them. Hermione gave a soft wave and watched as Bellatrix nodded in response.
"Where’s Ronald?" She asked, turning to look back at Harry.
"Sleeping. We’ve got a free period this morning."
Of course, they did. Hermione did, too, but she was looking to study at the library. She went to offer as such to Harry but watched as he gave a tight expression. "I think I’ll just work on it here."
"Well...let me know how it goes Saturday night."
Harry agreed.
As she and Bellatrix headed to the library, Hermione noticed that the witch didn’t seem nearly as concerned by the mountain of work they’d been assigned as she did. Bellatrix would take each piece of parchment and complete it one page at a time without the frantic air Hermione felt spilling from herself.
"There’s so much," Hermione said, biting her lip. "How can you be so calm?"
Bellatrix looked up. "It’s the first week of classes."
How did that make any difference? It only further emphasised her point. This was the first week of classes, and Hermione felt overwhelmed. She was concerned that maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew (though Professor McGonagall hadn’t thought so).
"Where are you stuck?" Bellatrix asked.
"I don’t know where to begin," Hermione admitted.
"What do you usually do?"
Hermione paused, drawing in a breath, "usually, I write up a calendar of when everything’s due and their importance and work backwards from there in working out priorities. I just haven’t had the time to do that yet."
"So do it now."
"But I should be studying," Hermione said.
"Right now, you’re worrying about nothing and wasting time," Bellatrix argued. "Rune's homework is due first, I would start there if I were you and then Potions since Defence’s homework was completing non-verbal spells—something you already do."
"And an essay," Hermione pointed out.
"Which isn’t due for four weeks; you can use the weekend to start that."
Hermione deflated. It made sense, and as Bellatrix’s words painted a picture in her head, she could understand what needed to be due. "No...that makes sense, thank you."
Bellatrix returned to work, continuing to be unfazed. Hermione wished she could experience that, the attitude that everything would be okay. Ever since she was little, it felt like the awareness of what could go wrong overruled what could go right, leaving her on the verge of panic about what she couldn’t do.
Usually, she managed to pull herself together in time, but it wasn’t always the case. It just seemed that all the dangers she, Ron and Harry faced were easy. She didn’t have time to think about what would happen if they failed at the moment. But essays and exams...that was different. At least, since passing her OWLs, she knew that if she did fail, she was allowed to keep her wand, and plenty of people had managed to have successful, fulfilling lives after expulsion from their fifth year. Newt Scamander being one of them.
"Have you done question twelve?" Bellatrix asked as it was coming up to the end of their free period.
Hermione took her work, looking over it. Her eyes flicked over the clean, cursive handwriting that was much easier to read than Harry and Ron’s chicken scratch.
"You’ve confused ehwaz with eihwaz," she said, smiling. "I do it all the time. I always remember that ehwaz is for partnership as there’s no room for "i’ in "us’."
"Thank you," Bellatrix said. Hermione paused, smiling as she watched the witch return to her work.
"You’re welcome."
Studying took all Hermione’s time when she wasn’t in classes or doing her prefect duties. In the moments that Bellatrix was busy elsewhere, Harry and Ron would speak to her, sometimes asking for help with their own homework, but overall, Hermione found her time spent in the library with many other sixth and seventh years, pouring over their assigned readings on top of their workload.
In the evenings, they were often joined by Ginny, who had begun to bring Luna with her to study. Hermione had expected Luna and Bellatrix to be a disastrous combination, but Bellatrix managed to only scowl and look at Hermione when Luna said something strange or wild about creatures that did not exist.
"Quidditch tryouts are in a few days," Ginny said, wagging her eyebrows. "You gonna try out."
Bellatrix frowned, "I doubt the Captain would accept me."
"Come on, just try out. If you’re terrible, I’ll look the other way, but I’ll talk sense into him if you're good. Know what position you want––and don’t say, Seeker."
Bellatrix’s nose scrunched at that, and Hermione could understand why. Seeker required focus and patience, and while Bellatrix often had the former in things that interested her, she didn’t have the latter very often. If something annoyed or frustrated her, she would shift her attention elsewhere, ignoring it.
This often included when Hermione was arguing with her about derogatory comments Bellatrix would state about people’s importance, a word Hermione expected she meant in instead of blood status. Bellatrix said she had no problem with Hermione due to her intelligence and magical performance. Should a student struggle with spells in any way, Bellatrix was likely to blame it on poor status.
"Neville’s a pureblood," Hermione had said snidely one morning before feeling guilty about speaking poorly of her friend. Bellatrix had merely looked at her with a raised brow.
"I don’t understand why you get so frustrated over this. People can rise above their status and fall below it. It’s the choices we make with what we have that matters."
"The point is that you believe muggles are less and below. Do you really think that of my parents?"
Bellatrix had flinched. "In magic––"
"Not in magic, but as people. Do you think they’re less deserving of love and kindness than...Draco?"
Bellatrix’s expression darkened. Bellatrix had taken a dislike to Draco and how he tormented Hermione indiscreetly, and while the witch had not yet done anything that Hermione had noticed, Draco had recently been having a spot of bad luck with tripping in class.
"No," Bellatrix admitted, and Hermione felt the relief flood at those words. "But muggles would burn us if they could."
"I think some would, yes," Hermione said. "They’d be afraid. Just as I think some wizards would do the same. I think at the core of who we are, we hurt people because we’re scared or angry."
"Some people like it," Bellatrix said, looking at her. "They like how powerful it makes them feel. Haven’t you ever felt powerful when you win duelling with me?"
"Not if it hurts you," Hermione said. "I wouldn’t take enjoyment from that."
"Than you’re kinder than me," Bellatrix said.
Hermione thought back to their day duelling when Bellatrix hurt her, wondering out loud if Bellatrix had enjoyed it.
"For a moment," she admitted, "But I don’t desire to hurt you. When we duel, and I win, I know that it’s a fair win, and I know I’m better, and I like that feeling. But I would never choose to hurt you."
It should have troubled Hermione, and yet she found herself understanding. "I don’t think that’s cruelty," she said. "I think at the moment you’re thinking of yourself, and that’s all you feel until you become aware of the other person, and then you have empathy for the situation. Did you enjoy hurting me?"
"No," she said, and Hermione believed her. "But if I hated you, I wonder if I would. I think I would feel very powerful hurting something I hated, proving I was stronger than them."
That troubled Hermione; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to tackle that.
Later that evening, when the lights had gone out, Hermione drew the bed’s curtains around her and sat hunched over her parchment with a small, dim light.
She knew that Bellatrix wasn’t evil. She didn’t believe the woman was born evil, but it was clear that she had tendencies that were...not socially acceptable. Dumbledore had placed Bellatrix in her hands, so it was evident that what she needed to do was fix the issue however she could.
But how did someone go about making another person more empathetic? Could someone become more empathic?
Hermione chewed on her quill before she remembered something her mother had said. Quickly, she began to draw up a list of things she needed to do. Then, tired from the work she’d done, she set everything aside and sunk underneath her blankets, slipping to sleep with her thoughts heavy.
There, in the dreaming world of her mind, she found herself back in a familiar place. It began slow, with her sitting in McGonagall’s office as the Head of Gryffindor explained that Hermione was falling behind and would not be allowed to sit her NEWTs. It twisted, insidious in the castle as she ran from some strange shadow until she found herself face to face with the basilisk, petrified once more.
"Hermione," Bellatrix awoke her.
Hermione gasped, looking up at the woman in the dim light. Slowly, everything came into focus...and yet that familiar presence of the basilisk didn’t leave her. It’d been some time since she remembered what it had been like seeing the snake in the mirror. How her body had locked up with terror and then froze at that moment, holding her there for an unknown period.
A cool wind blew from the window, and Hermione shivered.
"I forgot to put up the silencing charms."
"Everyone’s asleep," Bellatrix said as she took her wand and cast the charms around them. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"I’m fine," Hermione said.
"It didn’t sound fine."
No. The dreams she had about McGonagall failing her were easier to wake from. When she orientated herself, she could rationalise how ridiculous it was, but the dreams about the basilisk, about the Ministry...devil’s snare...dementors...
They were harder.
She’d experienced them. She knew they were real. And at Hogwarts, there was no making a cup of tea when there was a curfew. "I"m fine," she assured, hoping the darkness hid the pricking of tears in her eyes.
"Are you afraid something will happen here?"
"Sometimes," she admitted.
"Has something happened before?"
Hermione nodded, and all Bellatrix had to do was prompt her before Hermione confessed. She spoke about their first year, Fluffy, Devil’s Snare and the chess match. She spoke about the basilisk in their second year and being petrified. She spoke about finding out about Peter Pettigrew, having been there the whole time and how uncomfortable it made her not knowing when an animal was merely an animal. She couldn’t change in her room anymore without hiding from other people.
She spoke about their fourth year and her fear for Harry, knowing she was helpless and how she’d been taken as part of the games, awakening in water and how she still sometimes dreamed of drowning and then, at last, she spoke about the last year. About Umbridge and giants and the Ministry and knowing how close she’d been to death.
"I know Harry and Ron have been through it, too, but they don’t seem so scared. And I’m a Gryffindor! I have to brave, I have––"
Bellatrix hugged her. "I’ll keep you safe," she said as if it were a promise. "I’ll stay here, and if anything comes, I’ll stop them."
Hermione cried, sobbing into the witch’s shoulder as she clung to her. It felt like a great weight had lifted from her shoulders for the first time, and she wasn’t alone anymore. When at last she calmed down, she cleaned her face and nodded. "Thank you," she said.
"You’re welcome."
The following day, Ginny was beaming as she came and sat at the table. "Quidditch try-outs today. Are you coming?" She asked.
Bellatrix blinked. "I will."
"Do you know what position you’ll try for?"
"Beater or chaser," she said. "I think I’d prefer hitting things." Ginny laughed, but Hermione didn’t. She’d awoken after last night with Bellatrix beside her. The witch had fallen asleep, holding her wand even though she knew that the Girl’s Dormitory was safe. All because Hermione had had a nightmare and she'd promised to keep her safe.
There had been intimacy to the moment as she’d watched the witch sleep, her chest rising and falling in her pyjamas, but hearing her joke about hitting people reminded Hermione starkly of their conversation the day prior.
"Beaters are fun. My brothers were beaters." Ginny turned to Hermione, looking at her fiercely, "Ron’s going for Keeper. He’s been practising like mad all Summer for it."
Hermione turned, looking to where Ron sat at the table before smiling. "Is he...good?" She asked, having only watched him a few times a previous summer. Ginny shrugged.
"He’s pretty good against us. Unless someone else comes along, I think he’s got a decent shot." Well, that was something. Hermione hoped for the best for him. She watched as Harry’s owl landed on the table, looking to deliver a parcel of some sort as the Daily Prophet’s owl came to deliver the news.
She half-listened to Bellatrix and Ginny’s talks of Quidditch as she scanned the Prophet. Her heart sunk at the articles, reading through the missing person reports, the obituaries and the now apparent rest of a man called Stanley Shunpike. She frowned at the paper and set it aside, feeling misery tug at her.
Hannah Abbot had been pulled out of Herbology yesterday, and Hermione knew it was because her mother had been murdered. She hadn’t seen her since.
"You’re coming, yeah?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded, "Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts," she offered. "That’s incredible, Harry. I’m jealous of how much you’ll learn."

"Thanks. It seems pretty interesting, anyway."

An awkward pause pulled between them before Hermione cleared her throat. "I wanted to say thank you, as well, for what Slughorn said. It sounded like you stood up for me."

"Yeah, well, he was being a bit of a wanker at the time," Harry said as he looked away. "I know what you’re doing is for Dumbledore. I’ll speak to him because I don’t think it’s fair that you have to..." he trailed off before looking back at her. "It shouldn’t be your job to look after her."

"It’s not looking after her. She’s not a pet, she’s a person, and she’s not that bad. Could you imagine who you’d be if every memory was gone...of your friends, family...everything? I think memories make us who we are, building on top of what we’re born with," she explained, thinking about how Bellatrix had grown over the Summer.

"What if she’s evil?" Harry asked. "Born...rotten."

"You saw Sirius’ house. He turned out different. Don’t you think that had much to do with the fact that he became best friends with your dad on the train? If he didn’t, then maybe he wouldn’t have been sorted in Gryffindor, and maybe he wouldn’t be your godfather. That family was horrendous."

Harry grimaced, "They sure may the Dursleys look like a loving family," he said before sighing. "I don’t think I can trust her."

"I don’t expect you to make friends with her. I understand you don’t trust her, but she doesn’t remember. Maybe if you speak to Dumbledore, you’ll see she’s just a girl. You could treat her like she was an exchange student from Durmstrang. You’d also be suspicious of her if that was the truth, wouldn’t you?"

"Do you really think she doesn’t remember anything after seeing her duel, though?"

"I think the way we understand memories is complicated. She’s had every opportunity to do something and make it look like an accident. Harry, if you’re right about Draco, and while I don’t think he’s a full-blown..." she trailed off in case anyone was listening in on their conversation, though the common room was quiet of most others. "But if You-Know-Who has got him in some sort of...youth initiative as a way to encourage him to join after Hogwarts, then...why would he need her here?"

Harry frowned. "To look over him, maybe?"

"Wouldn’t it make sense if You-Know-Who lost his most trusted advisor and a lot of other senior members, so that's why he's trying to get younger recruits?" she said, pausing to reference the other death eaters that had been caught at the ministry. "He would be desperate enough to get some kids to do his dirty work, then."

Harry considered her words. "Possibly," he said. "But I still don’t trust her."

"That’s fine. Maybe just be neutral towards her, to begin with? I miss you and Ron."

"You could always spend less time with her," Harry pointed out, nodding to the stairs. Hermione sucked in a breath, looking at the stairs as Bellatrix began to descend them. Hermione gave a soft wave and watched as Bellatrix nodded in response.

"Where’s Ronald?" She asked, turning to look back at Harry.

"Sleeping. We’ve got a free period this morning."

Of course, they did. Hermione did, too, but she was looking to study at the library. She went to offer as such to Harry but watched as he gave a tight expression. "I think I’ll just work on it here."

"Well...let me know how it goes Saturday night."

Harry agreed.

As she and Bellatrix headed to the library, Hermione noticed that the witch didn’t seem nearly as concerned by the mountain of work they’d been assigned as she did. Bellatrix would take each piece of parchment and complete it one page at a time without the frantic air Hermione felt spilling from herself.

"There’s so much," Hermione said, biting her lip. "How can you be so calm?"

Bellatrix looked up. "It’s the first week of classes."

How did that make any difference? It only further emphasised her point. This was the first week of classes, and Hermione felt overwhelmed. She was concerned that maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew (though Professor McGonagall hadn’t thought so).

"Where are you stuck?" Bellatrix asked.

"I don’t know where to begin," Hermione admitted.

"What do you usually do?"

Hermione paused, drawing in a breath, "usually, I write up a calendar of when everything’s due and their importance and work backwards from there in working out priorities. I just haven’t had the time to do that yet."

"So do it now."

"But I should be studying," Hermione said.

"Right now, you’re worrying about nothing and wasting time," Bellatrix argued. "Rune's homework is due first, I would start there if I were you and then Potions since Defence’s homework was completing non-verbal spells—something you already do."

"And an essay," Hermione pointed out.

"Which isn’t due for four weeks; you can use the weekend to start that."

Hermione deflated. It made sense, and as Bellatrix’s words painted a picture in her head, she could understand what needed to be due. "No...that makes sense, thank you."

Bellatrix returned to work, continuing to be unfazed. Hermione wished she could experience that, the attitude that everything would be okay. Ever since she was little, it felt like the awareness of what could go wrong overruled what could go right, leaving her on the verge of panic about what she couldn’t do.

Usually, she managed to pull herself together in time, but it wasn’t always the case. It just seemed that all the dangers she, Ron and Harry faced were easy. She didn’t have time to think about what would happen if they failed at the moment. But essays and exams...that was different. At least, since passing her OWLs, she knew that if she did fail, she was allowed to keep her wand, and plenty of people had managed to have successful, fulfilling lives after expulsion from their fifth year. Newt Scamander being one of them.

"Have you done question twelve?" Bellatrix asked as it was coming up to the end of their free period.

Hermione took her work, looking over it. Her eyes flicked over the clean, cursive handwriting that was much easier to read than Harry and Ron’s chicken scratch.

"You’ve confused ehwaz with eihwaz," she said, smiling. "I do it all the time. I always remember that ehwaz is for partnership as there’s no room for "i’ in "us’."

"Thank you," Bellatrix said. Hermione paused, smiling as she watched the witch return to her work.

"You’re welcome."

Studying took all Hermione’s time when she wasn’t in classes or doing her prefect duties. In the moments that Bellatrix was busy elsewhere, Harry and Ron would speak to her, sometimes asking for help with their own homework, but overall, Hermione found her time spent in the library with many other sixth and seventh years, pouring over their assigned readings on top of their workload.

In the evenings, they were often joined by Ginny, who had begun to bring Luna with her to study. Hermione had expected Luna and Bellatrix to be a disastrous combination, but Bellatrix managed to only scowl and look at Hermione when Luna said something strange or wild about creatures that did not exist.

"Quidditch tryouts are in a few days," Ginny said, wagging her eyebrows. "You gonna try out."

Bellatrix frowned, "I doubt the Captain would accept me."

"Come on, just try out. If you’re terrible, I’ll look the other way, but I’ll talk sense into him if you're good. Know what position you want––and don’t say, Seeker."

Bellatrix’s nose scrunched at that, and Hermione could understand why. Seeker required focus and patience, and while Bellatrix often had the former in things that interested her, she didn’t have the latter very often. If something annoyed or frustrated her, she would shift her attention elsewhere, ignoring it.

This often included when Hermione was arguing with her about derogatory comments Bellatrix would state about people’s importance, a word Hermione expected she meant in instead of blood status. Bellatrix said she had no problem with Hermione due to her intelligence and magical performance. Should a student struggle with spells in any way, Bellatrix was likely to blame it on poor status.

"Neville’s a pureblood," Hermione had said snidely one morning before feeling guilty about speaking poorly of her friend. Bellatrix had merely looked at her with a raised brow.

"I don’t understand why you get so frustrated over this. People can rise above their status and fall below it. It’s the choices we make with what we have that matters."

"The point is that you believe muggles are less and below. Do you really think that of my parents?"

Bellatrix had flinched. "In magic––"

"Not in magic, but as people. Do you think they’re less deserving of love and kindness than...Draco?"

Bellatrix’s expression darkened. Bellatrix had taken a dislike to Draco and how he tormented Hermione indiscreetly, and while the witch had not yet done anything that Hermione had noticed, Draco had recently been having a spot of bad luck with tripping in class.

"No," Bellatrix admitted, and Hermione felt the relief flood at those words. "But muggles would burn us if they could."

"I think some would, yes," Hermione said. "They’d be afraid. Just as I think some wizards would do the same. I think at the core of who we are, we hurt people because we’re scared or angry."

"Some people like it," Bellatrix said, looking at her. "They like how powerful it makes them feel. Haven’t you ever felt powerful when you win duelling with me?"

"Not if it hurts you," Hermione said. "I wouldn’t take enjoyment from that."

"Than you’re kinder than me," Bellatrix said.

Hermione thought back to their day duelling when Bellatrix hurt her, wondering out loud if Bellatrix had enjoyed it.

"For a moment," she admitted, "But I don’t desire to hurt you. When we duel, and I win, I know that it’s a fair win, and I know I’m better, and I like that feeling. But I would never choose to hurt you."

It should have troubled Hermione, and yet she found herself understanding. "I don’t think that’s cruelty," she said. "I think at the moment you’re thinking of yourself, and that’s all you feel until you become aware of the other person, and then you have empathy for the situation. Did you enjoy hurting me?"

"No," she said, and Hermione believed her. "But if I hated you, I wonder if I would. I think I would feel very powerful hurting something I hated, proving I was stronger than them."

That troubled Hermione; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to tackle that.

Later that evening, when the lights had gone out, Hermione drew the bed’s curtains around her and sat hunched over her parchment with a small, dim light.

She knew that Bellatrix wasn’t evil. She didn’t believe the woman was born evil, but it was clear that she had tendencies that were...not socially acceptable. Dumbledore had placed Bellatrix in her hands, so it was evident that what she needed to do was fix the issue however she could.

But how did someone go about making another person more empathetic? Could someone become more empathic?

Hermione chewed on her quill before she remembered something her mother had said. Quickly, she began to draw up a list of things she needed to do. Then, tired from the work she’d done, she set everything aside and sunk underneath her blankets, slipping to sleep with her thoughts heavy.

There, in the dreaming world of her mind, she found herself back in a familiar place. It began slow, with her sitting in McGonagall’s office as the Head of Gryffindor explained that Hermione was falling behind and would not be allowed to sit her NEWTs. It twisted, insidious in the castle as she ran from some strange shadow until she found herself face to face with the basilisk, petrified once more.

"Hermione," Bellatrix awoke her.

Hermione gasped, looking up at the woman in the dim light. Slowly, everything came into focus...and yet that familiar presence of the basilisk didn’t leave her. It’d been some time since she remembered what it had been like seeing the snake in the mirror. How her body had locked up with terror and then froze at that moment, holding her there for an unknown period.

A cool wind blew from the window, and Hermione shivered.

"I forgot to put up the silencing charms."

"Everyone’s asleep," Bellatrix said as she took her wand and cast the charms around them. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I’m fine," Hermione said.

"It didn’t sound fine."

No. The dreams she had about McGonagall failing her were easier to wake from. When she orientated herself, she could rationalise how ridiculous it was, but the dreams about the basilisk, about the Ministry...devil’s snare...dementors...

They were harder.

She’d experienced them. She knew they were real. And at Hogwarts, there was no making a cup of tea when there was a curfew. "I"m fine," she assured, hoping the darkness hid the pricking of tears in her eyes.

"Are you afraid something will happen here?"

"Sometimes," she admitted.

"Has something happened before?"

Hermione nodded, and all Bellatrix had to do was prompt her before Hermione confessed. She spoke about their first year, Fluffy, Devil’s Snare and the chess match. She spoke about the basilisk in their second year and being petrified. She spoke about finding out about Peter Pettigrew, having been there the whole time and how uncomfortable it made her not knowing when an animal was merely an animal. She couldn’t change in her room anymore without hiding from other people.

She spoke about their fourth year and her fear for Harry, knowing she was helpless and how she’d been taken as part of the games, awakening in water and how she still sometimes dreamed of drowning and then, at last, she spoke about the last year. About Umbridge and giants and the Ministry and knowing how close she’d been to death.

"I know Harry and Ron have been through it, too, but they don’t seem so scared. And I’m a Gryffindor! I have to brave, I have––"

Bellatrix hugged her. "I’ll keep you safe," she said as if it were a promise. "I’ll stay here, and if anything comes, I’ll stop them."

Hermione cried, sobbing into the witch’s shoulder as she clung to her. It felt like a great weight had lifted from her shoulders for the first time, and she wasn’t alone anymore. When at last she calmed down, she cleaned her face and nodded. "Thank you," she said.

"You’re welcome."

The following day, Ginny was beaming as she came and sat at the table. "Quidditch try-outs today. Are you coming?" She asked.

Bellatrix blinked. "I will."

"Do you know what position you’ll try for?"

"Beater or chaser," she said. "I think I’d prefer hitting things." Ginny laughed, but Hermione didn’t. She’d awoken after last night with Bellatrix beside her. The witch had fallen asleep, holding her wand even though she knew that the Girl’s Dormitory was safe. All because Hermione had had a nightmare and she'd promised to keep her safe.

There had been intimacy to the moment as she’d watched the witch sleep, her chest rising and falling in her pyjamas, but hearing her joke about hitting people reminded Hermione starkly of their conversation the day prior.

"Beaters are fun. My brothers were beaters." Ginny turned to Hermione, looking at her fiercely, "Ron’s going for Keeper. He’s been practising like mad all Summer for it."

Hermione turned, looking to where Ron sat at the table before smiling. "Is he...good?" She asked, having only watched him a few times a previous summer. Ginny shrugged.

"He’s pretty good against us. Unless someone else comes along, I think he’s got a decent shot." Well, that was something. Hermione hoped for the best for him. She watched as Harry’s owl landed on the table, looking to deliver a parcel of some sort as the Daily Prophet’s owl came to deliver the news.

She half-listened to Bellatrix and Ginny’s talks of Quidditch as she scanned the Prophet. Her heart sunk at the articles, reading through the missing person reports, the obituaries and the now apparent rest of a man called Stanley Shunpike. She frowned at the paper and set it aside, feeling misery tug at her.

Hannah Abbot had been pulled out of Herbology yesterday, and Hermione knew it was because her mother had been murdered. She hadn’t seen her since.

"You’re coming, yeah?" Ginny asked.