Bellatrix was worried. She hadn't seen or heard Kreacher in several days. A search of the house had not revealed where he was or what he might have been doing. His scent was old. Days old. Everywhere in the house, even the freshest whiff near the hatch to the attic, was faint. Sirius did not seem too worried by Kreacher's absence, but Bellatrix couldn't help wondering where he had disappeared to.

House elves couldn't leave their masters' homes-not without their masters' explicit orders. And yet Kreacher was not in the house. Of that Bellatrix was certain. If he was, she would have found him.

Andromeda had not noticed Kreacher was gone. Other matters had been on her mind. As far as Bellatrix knew only Potter had any suspicions about Kreacher's disappearance. Sirius had brushed off Potter's concerns, but perhaps Bellatrix could bring it up to Andromeda...

But did she even want anyone to know that Kreacher was gone?

That feeling of conflicting realities rose again in her mind, and an anxious tension tightened her chest.

The front door opened and drove those thoughts straight from her mind. She trotted out of the drawing room, happily greeting the children as they returned from St Mungos. Ginny and Ron were subdued, but that was to be expected with their father in the hospital. Eager to investigate all the new smells clinging to them from their trip, she sniffed at their shoes and the hems of their pants. Ginny shoved her away. Disgruntled and confused, she stepped away from them. They must be upset because of their father...

She sniffed at Hermione's shins - and Hermione recoiled, her eyes red and watery, her face twisted in pain.

Bellatrix froze. What was going on?

Hermione rushed past her. Molly paused, looking startled, and then glanced at Bellatrix. Bellatrix let out a short whine and took a small step, wanting to go after Hermione but stopped herself. Ears drooping, she let Hermione go. Ginny jogged after her. Bellatrix glanced at Ron and Harry, both of whom shot her nasty glares.

Feeling uneasy, Bellatrix retreated to the kitchen. She wished Andromeda had not already left for home.

Sirius was in the kitchen, working on Christmas dinner. He glanced up when Bellatrix trotted back into the room. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

Bellatrix paused and considered him. While she would prefer to talk to Andromeda, Sirius was closer to the children. Perhaps he could help.

Sirius turned back to his work. Bellatrix hesitated another minute while he mixed something in a bowl, humming to himself. She transformed. Sirius glanced at her, his humming stopping for a second before starting again. She leaned against the counter.

"Something is wrong with the kids," she said.

Sirius put down his mixing bowl. "What do you mean?"

"They're...not happy."

"Their father was nearly murdered, and he's spending Christmas in the hospital."

"It's...not that. They're...angry."

"Again, their father - "

"It's not that," Bellatrix snapped. "It's something else. Something...happened...at the hospital. Hermione...upset. Ran from me."

Sirius frowned. "She's probably upset about Arthur."

Bellatrix shook her head. "No. The way she...looked at me..."

Sirius was quiet for a minute. He wiped his hands on a towel.

"What?" Bellatrix asked, irritated.

He looked at her with a grim expression. "Maybe it's hit her the kind of things you were involved in."

Bellatrix tossed her head irritably. "What does this...have to do with...me?"

"You worked for Voldemort. Voldemort nearly killed her best friend's father."

Bellatrix shifted in agitation. The way Sirius said the Dark Lord's name so casually aggravated her. "But I was here. Had nothing to do with it."

Sirius's eyebrows rose. His disbelief was palpable, and she barely restrained herself from hitting him for looking at her as though she were stupid.

"You don't understand why being a Death Eater would upset her? Especially now?"

"She knew. Didn't care. Why now?"

Sirius snorted. "Of course she cares about that."

Bellatrix growled. "Doesn't make sense. No help."

Scoffing, he turned back to the mixing bowl on the counter. With another growl, Bellatrix transformed and trotted out of the kitchen.

She stuck to her room until Andromeda returned just after lunch. Despite her hopes, Hermione's mood had not improved by dinner, though Hermione tried to hide it. Bellatrix stayed by Andy's side. She didn't know what to do. Andy glanced at the children, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, but she did not address the strange tension in the air.

When they moved to the drawing room, Andy relaxed into a chair in the corner, watching Sirius happily pass out presents from under the tree. Bellatrix laid next to Andy's chair. She kept flicking her ears, the only outward sign of her restlessness. Perhaps when Cissy arrived...

Something tapped on the window. Sirius tossed the curtains open, revealing a handsome eagle owl - Narcissa's owl. Bellatrix's heart sank, knowing what the letter said even before Sirius removed it from the owl's leg, unfurled it and read it.

"Narcissa says she can't make it," he said with a shrug.

Andy sighed. Disappointed but not surprised. She held out a hand for the letter and scratched at the top of Bellatrix's head comfortingly. Bellatrix looked up at her when she shook the letter open. A strain passed over Andy's face. Feeling suddenly nervous, Bellatrix stood up and placed her paws on Andy's arm rest to read the letter.

In an instant, she knew something was wrong. The letter was hastily scrawled, and it looked nothing like Cissy's normal handwriting. Even rushed, the letters looked too shaky as if her hand had been trembling slightly when she wrote it.

A suspicion formed in Bellatrix's mind.

Andy folded up the letter and put it in her pocket, a far away look in her eye. Bellatrix nudged her hand and licked it, trying to comfort her. Andy scratched absently behind her ears.

Hermione watched them, seemingly the only one noticing that anything was off. Then she saw Bellatrix watching her and looked away.

The following days were tense. Hermione avoided Bellatrix. Even Ginny, who had been kind enough to her, made sure to spend as little time with her as possible. When they were in a room together, she was noticeably cold to Bellatrix. Hermione no longer went to the library in the evenings, and Bellatrix curled up in front of the library fireplace, angry and sad and hurt.

"Did something happen between you and Hermione?" Andy asked one night, having found her sulking in the library.

Bellatrix heaved a heavy sigh, her head lifting off the floor slightly and dropping back down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She flicked an ear, considering. Andy sat in a wingback chair and waited. After a few minutes, Bellatrix rose to her feet, trudged over to Andy, sat by her chair and rested her head in Andy's lap. She transformed, leaning heavily against the chair and loosely wrapped her arms around Andy's leg.

Andy listened quietly while Bellatrix told her about the children returning from the hospital and what Sirius had said. When Bellatrix finished, Andy was quiet for a bit, thinking.

"I think Sirius is right to a degree," Andy said slowly. "I don't think it's the whole story."

Frustration rose in Bellatrix again. "But why? I didn't do this."

Andy stroked Bellatrix's hair. "If someone hurt Narcissa - " Bellatrix growled. " - and the person who did it was someone Hermione worked for or supported, how would you feel?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment. Being honest, she couldn't say. Perhaps a little hurt. It would depend largely on how Hermione herself responded.

"I would confront her," Bellatrix admitted. "Why hasn't she confronted me?"

"Would you want her to do that, Bella? How do you really feel about what happened?"

Bellatrix kept quiet. Truthfully she felt very little. Arthur had been kind enough to her. She did not hate him. But she did not particularly care about him either.

"I did not want him hurt," she said, which was true.

Andy pet Bellatrix's head. "I don't think it's the full story. She isn't talking to me either. Just be patient. She'll be ready to talk eventually."

Bellatrix had no intention of waiting patiently. She tried over the next few days to catch Hermione alone, stalking her through the house, but she spent most of her time in her room or with Ginny. Bellatrix did not give up. She may not have the patience to wait for Hermione to come to her, but hunting was different.

The only thing that distracted her was Kreacher turning back up in the attic. While Sirius was satisfied by the idea that Kreacher had merely been hiding, Bellatrix sniffed at him suspiciously. The smells that clung to him were familiar on an instinctual level even if the only one she could place was Cissy's. Her theory about his disappearance grew stronger.

It was a matter for another time. She had more insistent matters on her mind.

Eventually Bellatrix caught Hermione off her guard. Perhaps unable to sleep, assuming she was the only one awake, Hermione got up in the early hours of the morning. Bellatrix woke to the sound of a door opening and closing softly. She waited a minute before following.

Hermione's scent led her to the drawing room and carefully peeked inside. Hermione sat on the couch, right in front of the drawing room fireplace, books and parchment spread out on the coffee table in front of her. Periodically she turned to the fireplace and poked the logs with the fire tongs.

When Hermione's attention was firmly on her homework, Bellatrix crept closer until she reached the couches. She transformed. Hermione froze, watching her. There had been many times when Bellatrix hunted in the forest that the wind or a rabbit would rustle leaves and the deer would freeze, tense and ready to run.

Unlike the deer, Hermione did not run, and Bellatrix sat on the couch opposite her, a restless energy in her muscles, the instinctive desire to pounce. But this was a different kind of hunt, and Bellatrix needed to be careful.

Bellatrix spoke with some difficulty. "You...avoiding me. Why?"

"I don't know what you mean - " Hermione glanced at the door.

"Don't lie to me," Bellatrix nearly growled.

Hermione swallowed. A shiver ran down her spine. An internal battle played out across her face, and Bellatrix wondered which side would win: fight or flight? Pale, Hermione set her jaw and raised her chin.

"I know what you did to the Longbottoms."

Bellatrix tilted her head to the side, curious. Hermione thought the name should mean something to her, but Bellatrix did not recognize it.

Hermione paled, looking disgusted. "You tortured them."

Bellatrix stared blankly.

Hermione looked like she might be sick. "They went insane. You were supposed to go to Azkaban for it."

At that, Bellatrix's gaze sharpened, an echo of broken glass and a baby's wailing in her mind. It was followed by a flash of memories - a burn in her forearm, horror as her Mark faded, a thin wisp of a boy with a cruel gleam in his eyes saying, "They have to know something, they have to", and the sounds of piercing screams and blubbering sobs. Hermione swallowed, eyes wide, and shifted back in her chair.

Oh, Bellatrix remembered the Longbottoms, enemies of her Lord. But why did Hermione know them, and what did they matter to her? She watched Hermione, waiting patiently, unsure what Hermione wanted.

"Do you regret it?" Hermione asked quietly.

Watching her unwaveringly, Bellatrix pondered the question. Torturing the Longbottoms had been done in service of her Lord. He had needed help, had needed his truly faithful, had needed her . Did she regret trying to help the man who had given her so much? No. But she had regretted what it had cost her, what it had done to Narcissa.

"No."

Hermione stared at her, shocked and defeated. "No?"

Bellatrix shook her head.

"Why?" Hermione burst out.

Bellatrix tilted her head ever so slightly. "I did what I had to do." She spoke slowly and carefully, dispassionately, still not sure what Hermione's issue was with the Longbottoms. "My Master needed me. I thought...they had answers. They did not."

Hermione stared at her. She was shaking. "I met them. They're in St Mungo's. Neville doesn't have parents because of you, and you don't even care!"

"Neville?"

"Their son. We're in the same year. The same house."

A vague memory of a baby in a crib came to Bellatrix's mind.

"He is pack?" Bellatrix thought she understood the problem. "Like Potter?"

Hermione frowned. "We're not close, but I do consider him a friend."

Confusion gripped Bellatrix again. If Hermione was not close to him, she did not understand the force of Hermione's reactions.

"It was war."

Hermione blinked back tears. "So that makes it okay?"

"I did what had to be done."

"No, you didn't. You didn't have to do that," Hermione said, shaking her head. She stood up slowly, trembling. "You really don't care, do you? I can't believe..."

She fled the room, leaving her books and parchment without a backward glance.

Bellatrix stared at the doorway, bewildered and frustrated. When Hermione did not return, she slid off the couch, transforming into a wolf, and paced silently in front of the fire. I can't expect a mudblood to understand, she thought bitterly. Especially not one so young.

But she had hoped that Hermione would understand her like Narcissa understood her. Bellatrix wished she had someone to talk to about the thoughts whirling in her head. Someone like a pack mate, like a...a friend.

Did I ever have one of those? She paused in her pacing. Her ears twitched. She had to have had friends, right?

Or maybe not. A hollow empty feeling gnawed at her insides. Her friends had been her family, who had dwindled one by one, until Narcissa was all that remained. The Dark Lord had been her teacher, savior, and master but nothing like a friend...

Someone was missing...weren't they? A friend, a real friend. She wracked her brain, struggling to remember. Who was it? Rodolphus, once, but hadn't there been someone else? There was a glimmer of something, and she latched onto it. A short blonde woman with unrefined speech, opposite Bellatrix in nearly every way but for her magical talent and cruelty. A friend and ally and sometimes lover.

What was her name? Bellatrix whined. She would have understood. She did understand... Why can't I remember?

Being a wolf was not as calming as she had hoped. Transforming back to human, she busied herself with cleaning up Hermione's materials: closing and stacking her textbooks, capping her ink pot, blowing gently on the parchment to ensure the ink was dry before rolling it up. Once everything was neat and tidy, Bellatrix stood, lost for what to do next. She poked at the stack of textbooks as though she could make them any straighter then flopped onto the couch, stretched across it, felt dangling over the armrest and sighed in frustration.

What does it matter if Hermione understands? She's barely more than a pup! She has no idea of how things truly are. She'll learn.

But why then did Bellatrix feel so awful?

I don't regret what I did. I regret the consequences.

True and true. If given the choice, Bellatrix would not torture the Longbottoms again. It had not been worth the cost. If the end result was the same as if she regretted hurting them, did it really matter why she regretted it?

Hermione seemed to think so. She wasn't the only one either. Many people had been scared of her in school. Most had spoken in hushed whispers and rumors they thought she didn't hear. Only a brave few said it to her face, calling her a monster. A few more aggressively rejected suitors had spat crazy and bitch at her as they had run with tails between their legs. She had not cared much what they had to say. But even Andromeda and Narcissa had been intimidated by her from time to time, their discomfort evident in tense shoulders and clenched jaws. Whenever Bellatrix had seen those signs, she had eased off on the behavior that caused it, at least around her sisters. She did not know what to do here.

Was she supposed to regret doing everything in her power to try to find her Lord, the man who meant so much to her? No. She could not - would not - do that. Perhaps it was only the methods she had employed she should regret?

Bellatrix huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Tried to muster up some remorse for hurting the Longbottoms, for their fate caused by her hands.

Nothing.

Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows flicker on the wall as the fire burned to a smolder. She closed her eyes and took deep even breaths. How could she not have foreseen Hermione's reaction? How could she have forgotten that people had always thought that Bellatrix was strange, cold and unfeeling to everyone but her sisters. Only the Dark Lord had understood and not judged her. The Dark Lord and one other person...

Alecto, she remembered suddenly with a sense of relief. Alecto Carrow, her only friend outside her sisters, who had been there when her friendship with her husband had cracked and crumbled. She was like Bellatrix herself, caring only for her brother and the Dark Lord (and eventually they cared for each other). They were loyal and cared for those closest to them. Why did it matter how they felt about people who did not matter to them and to whom they did not matter in return?

Bellatrix had not appreciated Alecto's friendship as much as she should have, distracted as she was with the war and her service to the Dark Lord. Still, it was something to hold on to, something she could perhaps correct...she would understand where Hermione did not...

Bellatrix put her arm under her head and heaved a sigh. She tried to put the matter out of her mind, but it swirled around her thoughts.

She didn't belong here. Not with the Order, who hated and despised her, who would never understand or accept her: her motives, her actions, who she was as a person as Hermione's response proved. They would keep her chained and locked away unless she bent her knee to Dumbledore soon.

Andromeda wouldn't allow that, she thought and then scoffed. Andromeda had allowed it so far, hadn't she? Andromeda would not allow her to leave, would not let her rejoin her Master.

But did she really want to leave?

Bellatrix rolled off the couch, grabbed the tongs, jabbed viciously at the logs in the fireplace. The fire jumped, flaring up, and died back down to little more than embers. Tossing the tongs aside, she started pacing.

For the first time, she could not be sure of what she wanted - but was that even true? There was still so much she could not remember. How could she say with any certainty who she was or what she wanted?

But in those dreams...those memories...she had been sure... She admired the Dark Lord even as she feared him. Always she had wanted to serve. Always. He had turned out to be better and greater than she ever could have imagined. He saw her true potential and personally unleashed it, guided her. Taught her. Saw her for herself rather than a marriage prospect or a broodmare or another man's wife. Had promised to help bring Andromeda back and repair her family when everyone else was content to pretend Andy had never existed. In return she devoted herself to him. It was the least she could do. It was the least he deserved .

How could she even question returning to him? How could there be any doubt at all?

She had people who understood her among the Death Eaters, and perhaps, even, it was not too late for her and Rodolphus to mend their friendship.

But her mind circled back to Hermione and Andromeda. Andy and her daughter would not serve the Dark Lord, would they? They would not stand by while mudbloods - while their husband and father, respectively - were treated as lesser ( As he should be, said a voice in the back of her head). As for Hermione, would Bellatrix be able to create a compelling argument for the Dark Lord why she - one of Potter's closest friends no less - was different for a mudblood? Could she swallow her distaste and do the same for Ted, if it would appease Andy and Dora?

Would the Dark Lord make her choose between her family or Hermione? Would any promises she could secure matter to any of them or would they still refuse to accept the Dark Lord's rule?

Temple throbbing, she wanted nothing more than to lash out, scream, break things. If she had someone to talk to maybe she could find a solution...

"Cissy... Want Cissy." She paced restlessly. Only Cissy could help her, but Cissy wasn't here. How could she get a message to Cissy without Andy or Sirius knowing?

She stopped pacing and snapped, "Kreacher!"

Kreacher appeared before her with a pop . "Yes, Mistress Bellatrix? How may Kreacher be of service?"

"You left...the house...didn't you? You weren't in...the attic."

Kreacher eyed her shiftily as though he did not know if he should or could answer her. Whatever the reason, it confirmed her suspicions.

"Can you leave again?"

Kreacher's expression darkened. "Not unless the Master orders it."

Bellatrix considered that for a moment. Sirius had clearly overlooked something, and that had allowed Kreacher to leave. What else might Sirius have overlooked?

"And if I order it?"

Kreacher shook his head bitterly. "Master forbid it. The blood traitors conspired to keep Kreacher from assisting Miss Bella in escaping."

Sirius and Andromeda were the blood traitors no doubt. A twinge of annoyance went through her at hearing Kreacher refer to Andy so disrespectfully, but she was too aggravated with her to bother telling Kreacher off.

"I assume you cannot take those kinds of orders from Narcissa either," she mused, staring at the wall, lost in thought.

"Kreacher cannot," he said ruefully.

Bellatrix tapped her fingers against her thigh. "I need Cissy. Need...to talk to her."

"Miss Cissy will visit soon," Kreacher said eagerly, pleased to be able to give her some decent news. "Miss Cissy told Kreacher she would visit Miss Bella as soon as possible."

Bellatrix frowned. As soon as she could...but when would that be?

She threw herself down on the couch, rolled over to face the back of it, and shoved a throw pillow over her head.

Hermione avoided Bellatrix entirely the following day to the point it was impossible to ignore. Even Sirius noticed when Hermione froze in the drawing room doorway after lunch, eyes locked on Bellatrix who was stretched out beside Andy's chair as a wolf, and she turned and fled when Bellatrix lifted her head to look at her. Uninterested in a repeat of that moment or in enduring Sirius's suspicious glares, Bellatrix retired to the library after dinner.

While Bellatrix was struggling to read the book Hermione had been reading to her before Christmas, Andy swept into the library and plopped down on the couch beside Bella. "What did you do to Hermione?"

A stab of irritation ran through Bellatrix. "What are you talking about?"

"She's been avoiding you more than before."

"Has she?"

Bellatrix kept her gaze on the book in her hands. Andy's skeptical gaze burned into her.

"Did you hurt her again?"

Bellatrix growled, glaring at her book. "No."

"Did something happen between you last night? I saw her things on the coffee table and you were asleep on the couch-"

"No," she said, flipping the page to give the illusion that she was reading. Maybe she should follow up with something else, but she did not wish to prolong the conversation any further.

Andromeda eyed her. "Then you have no idea why she's acting oddly?"

"How should I? If she's been avoiding me like you say." Bellatrix stood, tossing her book onto the coffee table. "Why don't you try asking her ?"

"I will, but I wanted to talk to you first," Andy said calmly. "Sit back down."

Bellatrix glared at her. Part of her wanted to storm out, but another part-a stronger part-still missed Andy and feared she would lose her. She sat back down, arms crossed.

"What are you reading?" Andy asked in an obvious attempt to soothe her.

Bellatrix frowned. "I'm trying to read this ridiculous muggle book you added to our collection but I..." Her cheeks burned slightly, and she cleared her throat. "Some of this sounds like complete nonsense, and I don't know if it's because I've forgotten what some of the words look like or..." She trailed off, embarrassed.

Andromeda leaned against her side. "Let's read together then."

Bellatrix rested her cheek against the top of Andy's head. She picked up the book, flipped to the right page, and relaxed against Andy, grateful not to have been judged. Would Hermione have judged her? The thought flitted across her mind. Irritably she pushed it aside.

It didn't matter anymore what Hermione thought, did it?

The night sky visible from the window of Narcissa's private study was clear and star-studded, the kind of night where she and her sisters had liked to star-gaze when they were younger, trying to find the namesakes of relatives. Narcissa barely glanced at it tonight.

Pacing back and forth, she pulled Bellatrix's leather jacket tighter around her for comfort. She seethed silently. Stupid Sirius. Stupid, stupid...unthinking idiot... How could he let this happen...? She was thankful that Sirius had been intelligent enough to forbid Kreacher from repeating anything that would reveal her involvement with the Order.

Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn't. If she didn't have to hide and sneak around anymore, to be able to speak freely with Lucius once more. Toying with the crow's skull necklace, rolling it between her fingers, she cursed the Vow, wishing she could ask Lucius for his advice.

If her Lord's plan worked, the Order would surely discover her part in it through Kreacher, and they would keep her from Bellatrix. She would have to think of a way to cover her involvement...

Or perhaps she could undermine the Dark Lord's plan in such a way that the Order would never discover there had been a plan in the first place. But that would be difficult, and if the Dark Lord blamed Lucius for the mission's failure...if he discovered she was behind it...

What would Bellatrix do? She snorted, remembering the massive risk she had taken in torturing the Longbottoms in her pursuit of the Dark Lord. Probably something stupid. Bellatrix was loyal to a fault, letting it cloud her vision.

What would Andromeda do? That was a far more reasonable question.

Taking a few deep breaths, she stopped pacing and tried to clear her mind and focus. Andromeda would talk to someone. Ted, perhaps. Or maybe she would go straight to Dumbledore. But I can't tell Lucius the truth. Not with the Vow.

As for Dumbledore, did she trust him to keep her family safe? She had his Vow that he would do all he could, but would it be enough?

Lucius was unlikely to follow her in undermining the Dark Lord's plan if she could not even explain to him why .

Could she come clean to the Dark Lord without violating her end of the Vow? Was there some way to entice him to explore her mind? If he found the information that way, it would not be her willingly divulging secrets...except if she knew the potential consequences of the Dark Lord sifting through her mind and encouraged it, would the Vow recognize it as a willing choice? She couldn't be sure.

No... No, she couldn't tell Lucius, couldn't trust Dumbledore, couldn't throw herself on the Dark Lord's mercy, Andromeda wouldn't understand... There was no one she could seek help from...

Except for Bellatrix. Despite her rashness, Bellatrix was Narcissa's only hope for finding a solution that would protect her family, Bella included. Narcissa eyed the black velvet bag on the desk. She would get Bellatrix her wand, and they would make a plan...

She just had to find a way to visit Bellatrix without arousing Lucius's suspicions. After Kreacher arrived, Lucius watched her a tad more closely than he had before as if gauging her reaction to each piece of information Kreacher provided and each step of the Dark Lord's planning. She wasn't sure what he was looking for or what he might suspect. She couldn't ask and knew he wouldn't say even if she did.

Bellatrix. Wand, she thought, recentering herself. Meet with Bellatrix. Create a plan. Deal with Lucius later.

It was all she could do.