Hi there! :3 Thought I'd just give some salutations before writing. Welcome! This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction of any kind so I hope it is up to par. I love reading HP femslash and thought why not give it a try xD I love stories that are long and detailed so here's my own spin on things.
Which brings me to...
Warnings: You read the summary. Pairings are largely girl on girl so if this offends you turn away now. I assume you didn't click on "Hermione/Narcissa/Bellatrix loveee" by accident but just in case here's your chance to exit the scene (I promise I won't tell anyone). Also, I like to keep the Malfoy/LeStrange characters dark so I've rated this story as M just for safety (le sexy time and probably some violence will come later).
Disclaimer: JK Rowling is remarkable. Thank you for making our lives magical (see what I did there?). What she owns is all hers. I take no credit for this.
Timeline: Okay, so I've based my story fairly loosely from the movies starting with Half Blood Prince. It'll progress but I'm not sure what into yet so stay tuned.
A/N: I'll try to update as often as I can. I have written a few chapters in advance as back up but I am largely writing this between university and life (when I say life I mean N64 and study). All reviews are greatly appreciated! I'm always looking for ways to better my writing.
So far the story is mostly from Hermione's POV. I may experiment with other characters such as the Black sisters too
Darkness shrouded the empty corridor that appeared to expand and contract with every tentative step that was taken by the young wizard. Droplets of perspiration beaded his face as he clawed at the wall in support, pressing his back firmly against the stone cold surface. The difference in temperature made his stomach churn and he dared not to breathe as a faint emerald light flickered rapidly from within an open chamber. Beyond his slumber, Harry merely stirred as he began twisting with discomfort; the old sheets that his Aunt had given him constricted his lower limbs and his scar made his temples throb in unison with the green light he saw in his dreams. Within his self-conscious, Harry struggled under the immense burning sensation the lightning bolt scar radiated as he began closing the distance between himself and the door frame. His body felt heavier and the corridor's air became thick with a stench that made Harry double-over dry retching. The pain was familiar but never did it become more bearable. Looking up after wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Harry noticed now that the illuminations were stagnant and the haunting light lingered. The door frame was now only a few footsteps away.
Harry strained his ears, pressing his body against the icy surface. He was not alone. Familiar voices could be heard beyond the wall but the Gryffindor could not acquaint faces to them. With what little strength he had left, Harry finally made it to the room's entrance. He listened closely to the conversations. His eyes widened as he recognised the emotionless tone of Professor Snape. Shooting a chancy look from beyond his poorly lit sanctuary, Harry caught a glimpse of the surroundings. The room was far wider than the first floor of the Dursley's house and the high ceilings dwarfed the three cloaked occupants standing in the centre. The ominous glow protruded from the wand of a sickening hand. Thick myrtle curtains were drawn over expensive windows and against the furthest wall, flames licked greedily at the remaining dry wood concealed in a marbled fireplace. On the floor surrounding those that stood, laid several bodies and Harry had to avert his gaze away and gag. The disfigurement of the disjointed limbs and the bile pooled at the heads of the victims was just too much too soon after the death of his uncle. Again he forced himself to look; keeping his gaze above the figures sprawled across the varnished, hardwood floors.
"Draco," the named ricocheted off the high ceilings and struck fear into the heart of Harry. The burning sensation on his forehead had become more intense.
The Malfoy heir removed the hood of his robe to reveal his platinum blonde hair. Although the Gryffindor could not see, Draco's lip quivered as he distracted his eyes away from the speaker to the fireplace behind. The flames reflected off the glistening in his eyes. He was afraid. The hand that held his wand was clammy and from under his robes, the tailored suit he was wearing was drenched in sweat. Harry caught sight of the dim glow radiating from Draco's wand. The colour was much like the other hooded figure's and with a simple wrist movement, the light went out.
A firm hand, which Harry knew belonged to his potions professor, steadied the trembling Slytherin until his eyes finally rested on the speaker. Snape shook the boy once violently; indicating to address the cloaked figured that stood before them.
"You have done well Draco. See? You can do it. You have our full support." The words were more hissed than spoken and the deathly hand indicated to the fallen bodies on the ground. Wandless, Harry only assumed they were Muggles. His blood boiled as he continued listening.
"You can redeem your family Draco." The haunting voice cooed. "You know what you must do."
The blonde haired boy nodded, suppressing a whimper under the grip of his teacher. He knew better than to show signs of weakness. Harry looked on; the only person to speak was now facing Snape directly.
"Severus," the voice lingered on the last syllable "see to it that Mister Potter does not escape." Three heads simultaneously whipped around to the entrance, their eyes boring into Harry's. He raised his wand in defence against an oncoming spell which merely hit the spot where Harry was only moments before as the Gryffindor instead opted to take refuge behind the wall. He breathed deeply, the stench flooded his nostrils and his heart hammered against his chest. The green light illuminated brightly and Harry could now see clearly down the once darkened hallway. His breath fixed, no one had chased him or continued hexing but something far worse caught his eye. Still clutching at the wall, Harry diverted his gaze down the corridor. Only a dozen steps away was Nagini. Her body glided over the polished floors, rapidly approaching the Gryffindor. In Harry's attempt to curse the snake, it dawned on him that he couldn't move. His clothes stuck to the wall as if it was made of tar. He could feel his lungs compress as the vertical surface sunk Harry into itself. The serpent closed the distance, rearing back on her muscular frame and stretching her powerful jaws to reveal rows of razor sharp fangs. Harry screamed for mercy in parseltongue as he felt the first strike. Fangs piercing skin and puncturing vital organs.
Crimson blood gushed out of the places Nagini targeted. It would be slow. Harry knew this. Nagini liked to play games with her prey as much as Voldemort did. The pain was intense. His body, fastened to the sticky wall, left him defenceless. He shut his eyes tightly.
The last strike from Nagini sent Harry over the edge and he woke up panting on his bedroom floor. Morning light flooded in as Harry clutched at his neck and stomach where he felt the snake sink her fangs in. There was nothing. Just a dull pain on his forehead and Harry knew it was just another one of his nightmares. He made a note to not bother Hermione with this one and untangled his legs from his sweaty bed sheets.
As nights went on, his dreams were getting more intense.
The sun's rays were welcoming in contrast to the reoccurring struggle he dreamed of most nights. Looking up from the floor, Harry stretched for his round glasses that were in their usual spot on the bedside table. Putting them on, his vision sharpened and he stood up, gathering his sheets in a ball and dumping them at the end of his bed. Rubbing his forehead, Harry walked over to the windowsill where a chestnut owl was perched behind the glass. Secured in a metal clasp around its leg was a copy of the Daily Prophet Harry was expecting. Carefully opening the windows outwards, the bird adjusted its position so not to fall and extended its leg towards him to retrieve the bundle. After claiming the newspaper, Harry rummaged inside Hedwig's cage and placed her bowl of seed and water in reach of the tired, brown owl, much to Hedwig's disapproval.
The Gryffindor missed his life back in the wizarding world. There he felt like he had a real family. There he had purpose. He loved Hogwarts and its grounds; to him the start of every school year was like returning home. These were much darker times to that of when he first began his schooling career but he missed the magic and excitement all the same. Most of all, he missed his friends Ron and Hermione. Over the summer, Harry promised to keep up with Hermione's letters and through their exchange they told each other of their holidays, signing each parchment with a countdown until the beginning of the semester. This year Hermione had travelled to the south of France with her parents much to the envy of Harry. In an attempt to not bore his friends with his regular routine, Harry went into London more than usual, exploring hidden streets and art exhibitions he had seen advertised on community notice boards. Much to the interest of Hermione and Ron's lack of contact with the muggle world, Harry received replies with lots of questions about the happenings of his days. To avoid dampening the mood, Harry chose to keep his dreams to himself, at least for now, deciding to tell his friends about them once they were together in person.
He smiled to himself as he collected the much appreciated bowls from the windowsill. The owl dipped its head in a small bow and flew off across the housing estate. Harry watched it until he could no longer see it beyond the horizon and closed the windows. He refilled the bird seed and washed and replenished Hedwig's water dish from the upstairs bathroom's sink, placing both of them back inside the cage.
"Not long now girl and we will both be free from our cages." Harry whispered encouragingly as he scratched the top of Hedwig's head with his fingers. The snow white owl clucked in delight and lent in to her friend's affection.
Donning a pair of denim jeans and a black shirt, Harry grabbed the newspaper and placed it neatly inside his jacket before slipping it on. For the last few days, he had confined himself to his room to catch up on homework and study which would be followed by tests as soon as students returned to school. Today he felt the need to get out of the house and away from Dudley's erratic attention seeking behaviour. Grabbing his wand from his desk, he tucked it inside a pocket within his jacket and turned back to Hedwig.
"When I come back tonight I'll let you out to stretch your wings." He promised and closed the bedroom door behind him.
Summer in London was always busy. Tourists flooded the parks, shopping centres, bistros, The Tube and cued for hours outside monumental attractions. The raw smells coming from coffee houses and street vendors added to the romance of the city. From a young age, Harry had familiarised himself with detours that avoided the hustle and bustle. The paths were longer but in this late afternoon, he was in no rush and so he strolled around the streets, catching glimpses of pretty, foreign girls and excited children waving from the tops of the red double-decker buses.
In the spirit of English weather, the skies began to darken and Harry soon found himself taking refuge in a small coffee shop inside a subway station. He had escaped the worst of the weather, his jacket only slightly damp. The shop had wide, glass windows that exposed the concrete underground. There were plenty of empty tables to choose from and he sat down, his back turned to the counter and pulled out the Daily Prophet. He had nearly forgotten it whilst wandering around the city. More pages these days were dedicated to Death Eater sightings and worries of the Ministry's collapse. Rita Skeeter was probably the one to thank for most of the fear mongering yet Harry was grateful that people would be more aware of the potential dangers. As he turned the page, his eyes were immediately drawn to two articles whose titles were printed in large, bolded lettering each accompanied with magically moving photographs.
"AZKABAN'S LATEST RESIDENT" Harry immediately recognised Lucius Malfoy who sat stationary, his eyes void of any emotion. Even with the striped uniform of the prison and an unshaven face, he retained his elitist demeanour. Nodding in approval of the conviction, Harry darted his eyes down to the article just below the first.
"FALLEN FROM GRACE: MALFOY'S WIFE AND SON LEAVE THE TRIAL" The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he crumpled the paper as he gripped it tighter. He saw Draco and his mother, Narcissa, standing side by side tall and proud, their pale skin turning a blinding white whenever a camera flash landed on their fair complexion. Harry couldn't help but remember his nightmares - Snape and Draco surrounded by dead bodies and how he was left defenceless at the mercy of an unforgiving serpent. The Gryffindor had seen visions before, deep within the self-conscious of the Dark Lord. He suspected Malfoy was up to something and whatever it was it was big and he needed Snape.
Harry's thoughts were momentarily distracted by a waitress collecting his mug. Only now did he just realise that he had not touched it and felt a little embarrassed as she looked at the cool beverage and placed it on the tray.
"Can I get you something else?" The girl looked genuinely concerned.
"Oh, no, sorry, thanks…" Harry tripped over his words as he looked up at the dark skinned girl. She was a similar age and her hair was styled in a thick afro.
She laughed politely and looked closer at the newspaper he was holding.
"I could have sworn that I saw those pictures move." The long-legged waitress shook her head, slightly embarrassed.
"That sounds so crazy. They'll be locking me up and throwing away the key next."
"Not as crazy as you might think." Harry replied, meeting her gaze.
Smiling, she turned, skilfully balancing the tray on one hand and headed back to the kitchen. Harry spun around, a question on the end of his lips. But the moment was gone. The kitchen doors swung on their hinges and the waitress walked out of sight. He sighed and looked out the window at a passing train. Harry was about to turn back to his paper when from the corner of his eye he spied an elderly man with a well groomed, white beard staring at him from across the station platform. He wore a lavender coloured robe and matching tubeteika, his arms were folded over his chest and his back erect. Harry jumped up, a wide grin spreading across his face as his brain registered the man as Dumbledore. Throwing a few pounds on the table, Harry bounded out of the coffee house and sprinted to the platform to meet the Hogwarts' headmaster.
For a moment Harry said nothing, standing at the professor's side silently as an express train zoomed by. He exposed his teeth as he no longer could contain his excitement and addressed the headmaster.
"Evening Sir" the young Gryffindor beamed. Dumbledore turned to him and greeted Harry with a warm smile.
"Good evening Harry. I trust that your summer has been rather eventful?"
This year, Harry couldn't deny that he had been more reckless as he had ventured into London with newfound enthusiasm and confidence. Perhaps it was what young men did at his age but Harry genuinely wanted his holidays to be less sombre now that the Dursley's didn't insist he remain at home doing chores.
"I've had word from Miss Granger and Mr Weasley that you've been sorely missed and that your presence would be greatly favoured."
Harry's eyes lit up at the sound of his friends. It always felt strange not having them by his side over the long break. If Dumbledore was proposing to take him back to the wizarding world, Harry was elated.
"But Sir, I haven't any of my things. Hedwig…my trunk…" he began to list his forgotten possessions but was silenced as the bearded wizard held up a blackened hand.
"Already taken care of my boy" his voice sounded reassuring to Harry's queries so the young wizard didn't press further. Dumbledore must have sensed Harry was going to ask him about the condition of his hand because he added:
"It really is a remarkable state of events Harry," he stated matter-of-factly, holding up the unnatural looking limb and rolling his wrist "that one tiny idea can bring the fall of an entire empire. I'll be happy to settle your curiosity but not tonight" the elderly man sounded exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days.
"Now, grab my arm" his command was firm and Harry opted to avoid the darkened hand and latched onto the headmaster's shoulder.
In a blur, the surroundings contorted and Harry could feel himself move at great speeds in a vacuum of colours and distorted shapes. It was all over in a few seconds and as his feet found ground he had to use Dumbledore as a crutch so not to fall over.
"Most people throw up the first time, you did remarkably well Harry."
Looking around, they were outside in a dark street with identical houses on both sides. Harry had hoped they were going to The Burrow and was disappointed as Dumbledore made his way over to one of the houses on the left hand side of the street. He watched the professor enter the house and waited for some invitation outside of the gate. Everyone's front lawns were immaculately kept and Harry assumed it was one of those well-to-do areas where perhaps Ministry personal lived.
A light turned on inside the house and Harry could hear furniture shifting and broken glass. He grabbed his wand from within his jacket and hurried towards the front door, his heart beating rapidly expecting a confrontation. Upon entering, his head turned puzzled from Dumbledore using the spell Reparo to fix a once shattered chandelier to an unfamiliar wizard wearing what seemed to be blue and white striped pyjamas. Harry had seen far worse attire and was not fazed as the stranger's eyes widened at the sight of the lightning bolt on the Gryffindor's forehead. With everything back in its rightful place, Dumbledore turned to the greying man.
"Introductions are surely in order. Harry, this is Professor Horace Slughorn..."
"Tut, ut, ut Albus!" Slughorn interrupted "I am not a Professor of anything anymore. I know what you're trying to do and it won't work!"
The Hogwarts' former potions teacher expressed annoyance at the bearded headmaster before his eyes softened on Harry. Regaining his composure, Slughorn dismissed Dumbledore's insistence to rehire him as a member of Hogwarts' staff and focused his attention on The-Boy-Who-Lived.
"Mister Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you". Harry gave a polite bow in recognition and shook the wizard's extended hand, pretending to listen to the ritual "you have your mother's eyes" observation.
"Professor?" Harry called out to the headmaster who was seen disappearing into an adjacent room.
"Won't be long Harry, just using the loo. Soon we'll be leaving," he paused "Mister Slughorn will be left alone, unaware of the unique opportunity that will slip through his fingers." He smiled at the wizard who exchanged looks by glaring after the headmaster.
Alone, the tension was thick as the two wizards smiled at each other awkwardly. A vanity table covered in photographs caught Harry's eye and he picked up a group photo where a young Lily Potter stood beside Slughorn who had a full head of hair.
"Your mother was one of my finest students, Mr Potter." The old man reminisced as he looked over his past students with pride. Harry's eyes wandered over the photographs, they all beamed back at Harry. Except one group. Standing erect were several students wearing Slytherin house robes. Despite their high school appearance, Harry recognised a young Narcissa standing between Severus and Lucius. Behind them was Bellatrix and Harry could feel the contempt he held for this deranged witch.
Dumbledore soon reappeared and while the headmaster convinced Slughorn to return, Harry took the opportunity to conceal the Slytherin photo under his clothes. He had questions that needed answering and he knew he couldn't ask here. He would have to wait until he found his friends.
The Weasley's home was full of excited chatter when Harry stepped through the door. The Weasley matriarch embraced the young wizard and disappeared into the kitchen, only to emerge moments later with bowls overflowing with food. Harry shook Mr Weasley's hand and was euphoric when his friends came downstairs to greet him. There was laughter and warm conversations as Ron, Hermione and Harry retreated to a private room to catch up on their holidays. They sat on the floor around a small crate that served as a table.
"Ron?" Hermione's voice trailed as she leant closer to the freckled boy. "Who is she?" she asked, the red head looked up unexpectedly in confusion. Hermione grinned wickedly as she picked up a long, black hair between her thumb and forefinger that was atop of Ron's jacket. She held it up in triumph as Ron tried to justify his innocence.
Snapping his fingers, he groaned as a memory from earlier that day hit him in the face.
"That's not a girl's hair Hermione, it's Snapes'."
The other two looked at him like they had misheard.
Ron sighed. "At the end of last year McGonagall told me that if I ever hoped to be an Auror I needed to boost my grades in potions. Dad pulled a few strings and found me a tutor for over the holidays. I didn't expect to actually study but I had to…because well, it was Snape."
Hermione laughed hysterically but it was Harry that set a different mood.
"Did he tutor you here Ron?" His eyes searching hungrily for answers.
"Nah, it was down at Spinner's End where he lives. Merlin, I'm so glad that today was our last session. Ol' Wormtail was always there, bloody hell he gives me the creeps. Overheard him and Snape today about Malfoy coming for a visit tomorrow night, sure as hell didn't want to be around for that."
"Malfoy?" Harry had startled his friends with the intensity in his voice.
"Yeah, well, Malfoy's mum, erm…"
"Narcissa." Hermione finished, silencing Ron "Harry, are you alright?"
"I think Draco is up to something, something big and he needs Snape's help."
After Harry divulged his nightmares to his friends, he showed them the articles in the Daily Prophet. Hermione listened intently and Ron became more convinced that Malfoy was up to no good. Harry revealed the stolen photograph and placed it on the table in front of his friends.
"See, Snape has known the Blacks and Malfoys since he was at Hogwarts. If Snape is close with them, he is close to You-Know-Who and if he is close to You-Know-Who…"
"He will know his plans exactly!" Ron concluded, beaming at his connections. Harry was pleased that his best friend was following closely and turned to him and they began talking about a plan amongst themselves.
Meanwhile, Hermione was distracted. Picking up the photograph from the table, her eyes were immediately drawn to a girl only about a year older than herself. Straight, long, blonde hair flowed past her shoulders; her skin was fair and eyes ice blue. The girl's posture was immaculate as she stood proudly, chin raised exposing the length of her neck. Hermione couldn't help but admire her beauty and her gaze lingered down from the witch's face to her body. The student, who could be none other than Narcissa, stared silently into Hermione's eyes and the wavy-haired witch looked elsewhere, her face turning a slight shade of pink. Behind Narcissa, Hermione almost didn't recognise her sister Bellatrix. The young Death Eater had her signature raven coloured curls that fell down clumsily, framing her strong facial features. The dark witch was attentive but her eyes showed restlessness. Despite the contrast of light and dark, Hermione noted that both Narcissa and Bellatrix shared the same attractive aristocratic features. Bellatrix, older than her sister, was well developed, her robe barely blanketing the swell of her chest. Hermione attempted to mentally snapshot the image of Bellatrix, wanting to remember the beauty she held before Azkaban left her as an empty and crazed shell.
Hermione looked back at Narcissa, her expression had not changed. There was something about her, a regal elegance that very few girls her age possessed. The young Gryffindor felt her heart sink as the blonde witch's fingers brushed against the hand of Lucius Malfoy, her eyes displaying pleasure at Hermione's disappointment.
"'Mione, you have some right?" Ron's voice broke his friend's train of thought and she looked up at the two boys who seemed excited over something that Hermione had missed.
"I have some of what, Ronald?" she clutched the photograph closer protectively, slipping it into her enchanted handbag.
"Polyjuice potion of course, haven't you been listenin' to a word we said?" The ginger haired boy teased, reaching for her bag to retrieve what he had hoped to find.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped, seizing the bag out of reach from his fumbling fingers.
Harry chuckled. He had missed this touch-and-go relationship between his friends and attempted where Ron had failed.
"Hermione, we need the potion if we want to become Snape."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock.
"Harry, you can't impersonate a teacher! The very thought…there's no way you could get away with it!"
"Hermione, it's our only chance to find out what is really going on. Narcissa is arranging a meet at Snape's house tomorrow night. She'll be able to tell us everything."
"Oh, I suppose you're just going to walk in unnoticed?" Hermione was convinced that they were both delusional but the more Harry and Ron explained their plan the more at ease Hermione felt. A yearning in her stomach wanted her to believe that it was possible, possible to meet the blonde witch that had caught her eye in the photograph.
Handing the premade polyjuice potion to Harry, he found the single black hair and sealed it in the vile, shaking it until the consistency was thickened and the bubbles had died down. He passed it back to Hermione who studied the mixture carefully before slipping it into her bag.
"So tomorrow night I'll take the potion…"
"You?" Hermione interjected. "Harry, you can't be the one to take it. You're not legally allowed to apparate yet." She thought quickly "Besides, don't you think you will give yourself away because of…" she trailed off, she didn't want to seem insensitive that Sirius was killed by Narcissa's sister.
"'Mione's right, mate." Ron defended. "We need a cool head going into this if we don't want to be suspected." Hermione exhaled in relief. "I'll go."
The young witch whipped her head around to Ron in disbelief.
"Ronald, you can barely stand being in front of Draco and you want to take on his mother?" She rolled her eyes as she gave a look to Harry. He knew she was right. "I'll go." She confirmed, ignoring Ron's protests.
"There is no time to be playing hero, Ronald. We can do this together."
The trio smiled and hugged, their minds wandering over their unthinkable task. Soon the conversation took a tangent and they began talking about the new school year. Their faces were illuminated by a levitated, smouldering newspaper in the middle of them. The feeling in the pit of Hermione's stomach was more than just nerves she felt for planning to imposter a Hogwarts' teacher. There was something else and she laid a hand gently on her bag where the stolen photograph was kept secret.
The young witch's night had been restless. Long after the household bid each other goodnight, Hermione laid in bed, wide awake at the thought of what tomorrow would bring. Not only would she have to adopt Snape's mannerisms but most importantly, she needed to keep composed so not reveal herself. There were just so many pieces of the puzzle that could easily go astray. Harry had talked privately with her and together they deliberated over important aspects of the plan: timing, dress and conversation topics. There was only enough of the potion to last one hour so she had to act quickly to get the information about Draco that Harry desperately wanted. Ron had found a formal, black robe that belonged to his brother Percy who was similar in height to Snape that would be perfect. Although this somewhat settled Hermione's nerves, she knew better than anyone that in theory, everything goes according to plan. In practice, well, she tried to remain positive.
Her head couldn't bear to ponder over tomorrow's events any longer and wrapping a sheet around herself, Hermione crossed over to the opposite side of the room where her bag was kept. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she reached for her wand that was kept in her sleeve and summoned the photograph. Within a moment, it shot out of the bottomless carrier and she caught it in mid-air. The moonlight shining in through the window wasn't enough for the Gryffindor to see clearly as she held the framed photo in front of her.
"Lumos" she muttered under her breath and the wand produced a steady beam of light. Hermione supported her wand wielding hand above the picture of the group of Slytherins who in reality now were at least one generation older than herself. Hermione quietly apologised as they shut their eyes, the spell unexpected and too bright. As their vision focused, many of the students glared up at young witch for the disturbance. She dimmed the intensity and ignored them all but one. Narcissa had her hand raised elegantly over her face, the angle of her wrist was poised gently and Hermione for the first time noticed the blonde witch's well-manicured nails. Lowering it slowly, blue eyes softly opened and Hermione's stomach tensed as they pierced into her own. Narcissa stood dignified, not uttering a sound which was fine with the Gryffindor as she wasn't sure what to say anyway. She was content with gazing at the photograph in silence. Even with the Slytherin expressing little diversity in emotion, Hermione was captivated by the student in the picture. It was an attraction that in the back of her mind she knew was against the status quo but she couldn't help the admiration for the aristocratic witch. Narcissa held herself regally, her features were strong in every sense of the word and she reminded Hermione of a woman more than a student. Etiquette had clearly been drilled into her from birth. From experience Hermione knew the blonde haired witch, faced in a confrontation, remained extraordinarily composed, choosing to use grace and fierce quick wit as her weapon of choice.
Hermione immediately felt aware of the difference in their blood status as a young Bellatrix leaned close to Narcissa and lingered at her ear. The dark witch's lips brushed against Narcissa's lobe as she whispered inaudibly. Thick curls cascaded over the blonde's shoulders like water over a fall before the Death Eater erected herself, her lips miming a word that cut deep into the heart of the onlooking witch.
Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism is most welcome :3