Hermione didn't know what she was doing there, but somehow she liked it.
Her eyes fell on a water strider dancing on the surface of the black lake.
As was often the case, the oak tree at the edge of the lake provided shelter for the two of them, and they sat side by side, in silence.
Suddenly Bellatrix dropped, her head falling into Hermione's lap and the young Black stroked her friend's palms with her thumbs.
Something in the brown-haired witch's stomach tingled.
She had never been this close to another witch before.

"You're mine, doll."
Hermione jolted up from her train of thought, "What?"
"You are my property, Hermione Selwyn, do you see what a good influence I have over you?"
"You're conceited, you know that, Trix?"
"Trix? Why is that, doll?"
"I like the nickname a lot, or do you like wicked witch more?"
But Bella had paid no attention to her, more to her fingertips, which she covered with her lipstick.

"Listen, I had an unusual encounter when you left the astronomy tower."
"Tell me about it, doll."
Hermione bit her lip, "I know why you've been sneaking out at night lately, don't deny it, we both know and I'm worried."
"Oh, dear, you needn't worry about me -"
"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about the mud - " Hermione stopped short, "About the muggleborns."
"Really? Those filthy little rats are more important to you than your pureblood, powerful best friend?"
"That's not the point, Bellatrix Black and you know it!"

"Oh, now I'm Bellatrix to you again." The witch with the raven black curls threw her head back with a hint of arrogance, "I get that now, Selwyn!"

Hermione braced herself, "Is it because of him? Tell me and I won't worry about it anymore, is it because of him or because you believe in blood purity?"
"Why should you care?"
"By Merlin's beard! Is it because of him? Because then I'll stop getting my hopes up!"

Now Bella rose too and crossed her arms in front of her chest, "What do you mean -"
But Hermione didn't let her finish: "Bloody hell, don't you realize he treats you like his trophy?"
"He believes in me, in my magic, unlike you!" Now the blush rose to Bellatrix's face.
Her chest began to quiver.
"He believes in using you! You're his pawn, just like Corban, just like Lucius! I'm scared, Trix!"
"Worried about the Muggles again? Those filthy, worthless -!"
"No! About you! He's going to drop you and I don't want you to feel that pain!"

"The only pain I'm feeling right now is the pain you're causing me! My best friend doesn't trust me!"
"I do trust you, but I don't trust him! You talk to him and you hit me! You disappear into the night while at the same time an attack happens! You come to the party covered in blood and say you had an accident! Tell me, how am I supposed to trust you?"
Now Bellatrix was leaning over the witch.
She drew her curved wand and pressed it to Hermione's throat.
The student with the raven black curls gasped.
Fake Selwyn saw the glint in Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes.
This time she wasn't Black.

For it was not the name that made her such a monster, no, it was the one whose name she was not allowed to speak.

"Shut up! Shut up!"

But the witch with the shaggy mop of brown hair didn't listen to the budding Death Eater, "Did he tell you how good you are? How perfect you would be together? How you could change the world?"
"Shut your mouth! You don't understand! I'm doing this for Andy, for Cissy, for Mother!"
This elicited a grin from Hermione.
She didn't quite know why still feeling Bella's wand on her neck and her legs trembling.
"Would you rather be his plaything than carry the name of a man you don't love?"
Born Black lowered her wand and stared at the stony ground, her skull flushed.
She almost hurt her friend.
Again.
But this was a mistake and for once she would be a true Black, one who could control herself.

The young Black fell to her knees and intoned a breathtaking laugh.
Hermione's skin crawled, that shrill sound echoing in her head, bringing back her memories of the war.
Of Malfoy Manor.
For little did Bellatrix Black know that she had hurt her friend before.
At the blonde family manor.

But as Bellatrix nearly choked on her laughter, tears welled up in her eyes, "You - are - you're not a blood traitor, are you?"
"Cut the bullshit, Trix!"
Hermione didn't know how much longer she stood motionless on the frozen lawn, how much longer she watched the young witch calm down.
Hermione didn't know how much longer she stood motionless on the frozen lawn, how much longer she watched the young witch calm down.

And when she was finally done brooding, the two of them lay on their beds, silent.
Fake Selwyn rolled up the sleeve of her robe unnoticed and slowly ran trembling fingertips along the contours of her scar.
She could hardly believe that this was the work of her friend.
Or would be if she didn't do something about it immediately.
She was not a monster deep down.
Lestrange was, but not Black.
She was conflicted.

Either Hermione would prevent Bellatrix from joining the Death Eaters and so she would marry Rodolphus or some other idiot, end up sad and lonely, which could likewise bring her closer to black magic.
Or she would fail to save her friend, the young witch would fall to the Dark Lord and become just as much of a ruthless wreck as Hermione met her.
There was no way to avoid either scenario, only hope.

Narcissa Malfoy had told her that Bellatrix's first contact with the Death Eaters was on her birthday, but this was not true.
Months before, she had been their object of desire, something they desperately wanted in their ranks.
His trophy.
Less than two months to go.

Suddenly, something startled Hermione out of her reverie: a person next to her put on a crumpled robe and fled the dormitory,
...and, as before, Bella's bed was empty.
But the witch with the brown hair would not let this happen to her, she reached for her wand, which was lingering on the bedside table, and crept after her.
She used a disillusionment spell and was careful not to step on any creaking floorboards.
Her friend hurried up the stairs, right to the first floor.
Bellatrix stopped and even Hermione held her breath for a moment as the Black born pulled out a pocket mirror and bent over it.
A hiss emanated from it and she simply replied, "Why the toilet then, my lord?"