"You two know I could expel you from school, don't you?"

The two students nodded silently.

Their gaze drifted from the silver-plated crystal glasses to the endless tomes on the taming of dragons.

"Yes, Professor."

"And you also know that you both could have been killed?"
A steady nod.

"What sort of punishment do we get now?" Bellatrix tilted her head, around which was wrapped in a thick bandage.

"You two are punished enough. I don't know how you found the entrance, but you made sure the monster is eliminated. It will never be able to attack anyone again."

Hermione's eyes drifted over to her friend.

She had her eyes wide.

Silently the two of them, followed by Professor McGonagall, left the office.

Down the ever-moving stairs,

Straight into the Great Hall, where Bellatrix dropped down beside her youngest sister.

Narcissa Black slapped her hands over her mouth, "Bella! What happened?"
"Nothing." The young woman with the thick curls forced a smile.

"What's wrong? You're bleeding!"
"Potion accident."
"Bullshit!" The blonde girl interrupted her, "Slughorn's lessons may be a bit dodgy at times, yet he won't kill you!"
"Calm down, Cissy. I'm still alive."

Almost.

Hermione thought to herself, scanning the hall with her eyes.

Above her, the ceiling sparkled, graced by milky white clouds.

A young woman crossed the hall, tugging at the fabric of her Slytherin jumper with her fingers.

Andromeda unceremoniously sat down with the three witches and eyed her older sister.

Her neck was covered in red blemishes.

"Andy, look at Bella!" Narcissa startled.

"Are those kiss marks?" Tried Bellatrix to distract, pointing at the Black sister with the shock of brown hair.

"What? No, I took the wrong potion!"

"Oh, you too?" Cissy raised an eyebrow, "The funny thing is that Bella is almost dead, and you, Andy, have kiss marks. You both didn't have any Potions class today, did you?"
Now the witch with the raven black curls sipped her pumpkin juice, "Oh, it's a long story, and you're still too little for some of these, sis."
And with a smirk on her lips, she disappeared.

Hermione knelt in front of her luggage.

Time reverses, letters, robes, potion bottles.

Perfect!

It was January, and the young woman was sure she knew nothing and again nothing.

It was hopeless, she would just stand idly by.

But how did she find a hearing with the dark lord?

No, he would not trust her with even a single secret, by Merlin, even if she was a supposed pureblood.

Loyalty was the highest good for him, and of that her friend possessed in abundance.

One of her potions caught the young student's eye, luckily she always kept the leftovers from her lessons.

As the door to the room swung open, Hermione slammed the lid of the trunk shut.

"Bella! Weren't you going to study?"
"Yeah, but the library is crawling with mudbloods." She rolled her eyes, "Besides, I'm sick, and my head is full anyway."
The witch with the shaggy brown hair flopped down on her friend's bed.

"Full? Why -"
"Oh, doll, there's so much happening and nothing at the same time."
"What do you mean?"
"Somehow we keep trying to move forward - every second - every hour. You find me, look for your answers in the chamber, and now I have more questions than before."
"You have questions?"
Born Black brushed a curl from her forehead, "You don't? Questions are our fears. No one speaks them aloud, fearing someone will laugh at you."

Now Bella approached her and lay down beside her.

The two of them stared up at the emerald green velvet sky.

The cassette tape played the soft notes of Smells Like Teen Spirit over and over in the background.

"Are you scared?"
"I'm not scared. I'm worried, for Mum, for Cissy, for Andy and Dad."

Hermione turned on her side and regarded the young woman with the shock of jet black hair.

After a few minutes of silence, the older one rose again and spotted something in her friend's suitcase.

Hermione hadn't slammed it shut properly and so a potion bottle was sticking out.

"What -"
But before she could finish, her friend followed her and grabbed her wrist.

She was not allowed to notice anything.

Fake Selwyn let her hand wander slowly to her friend's waist and pressed her against the wall.

She bent over her very slowly, the scent of chocolate as it hit her nose.

A few inches, Bella could feel her pulsing heart as it pressed against her chest, almost leaping out of her body.

"Doll -"
But before the born Black could even say anything, her friend pressed her lips to her soft skin.

Slowly she ran her tongue over her neck.

"Doll! Stop!"

"Why?" Hermione interrupted, looking up.

However, this did not mean she stopped for long.

One button at a time. She unbuttoned with trembling fingertips, slowly running her tongue from Bella's neck, ever so slowly to her shoulders.

She tasted a hint of vanilla.

"Doll, where did you get the sword of Gryffindor?"
Her friend, meanwhile, gently stroked her chest with her thumb.

"It's a long story."
"Tell me." A smile broke out on Bella's lips, while she was moaning into the fabric of her clothes.

Hermione stopped short, "My parents are from England. My mother was a Gryffindor. It's probably some tradition, you know, because of her I was able to pull it out of the hat."
But before the other witch could reply, the fake Selwyn ran her hand along her stomach again. Her soft skin with so many familiar birthmarks.

Bella started to gasp as the student's delicate fingertips slowly traveled up her legs.
"What - who do you think - Andy got those kiss marks from?"
"It doesn't matter. The main thing is that the ones I'm giving you are bigger."
"Doll!" Her chest began to quiver, "You can hear us -!"
But before she could complete the sentence, her moans interrupted her.

She felt two fingers inside her, almost driving her to despair.

The young Black slammed her fist against the wall, slowly clawing into its plaster.

Hermione lay in bed. Slowly she wrapped her arm around the young woman, pulled it back, and got off the mattress with a smile.

A short time later she had thrown on one of Bella's robes and was holding a small strand.

One of Bella's strands of hair as it shimmered in the light and slowly sank into the greyish gloop.

This was not the first time the young witch had done this.

No, this time it didn't taste inedible. She endured the sweet taste of mint and vanilla.

Later, she was wandering along a path, heading straight for a ramshackle mansion.

With the cobbles beneath her feet, she felt more helpless than usual.

Little Hangleton seemed even more deserted without her friend. She clutched her wand tightly for protection.

Right through the gate, she was standing in front of a front door.

"Alohomora!" The lock clicked, and she slowly pushed the gate open.

But she did not get far.

A hooded figure was already blocking her way on the doorstep.

His face was disfigured by scars.

The one whose name she was not allowed to pronounce eyed her from bottom to top.

"Bellatrix? Did we have an appointment?"
"No, no, my lord, I just needed to talk to you about something important."
He made a hand gesture, "Well, enter."