"She wasn't complying, Cissy!" Bellatrix hissed, her eyes ablaze with fury at the idea that her sister was upset with her for the new addition of injury to a one Hermione Granger. The pair of sisters stood opposite one another in a kitchen decorated with calm greys and blues, specks of gold catching their eyes as they desperately searched for something to distract their thoughts. "What was I supposed to do?" The elder sister added, folding her arms across her chest. Narcissa, on the other hand, stared at her sister with disbelief, shaking her head.

"Not bite her ear off, Bella!" The blonde scolded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's not Rodolphus; she's a girl!" She spat, still not sure how her sister, one of the brightest witches of her year and amongst the Death Eaters, managed to do something so stupid. When the younger Black brought up the mention of Bellatrix's late husband, the raven haired woman rolled her eyes and scoffed. "The more blood she loses, the more information we lose!" Narcissa added knowingly, her voice growing dangerously quiet. Bellatrix finally felt the shift in her sisters mood and grew solemn, leaning back against the counter of the sink and staring down at the ground.

"And what if we don't find him? What if she doesn't know?" She asked, and for once, it was as if Narcissa had complete control over what Bellatrix did, as if Narcissa was going to call all the shots to this plan.

There was a silence.

"He took Draco. We have to find them." Narcissa replied, the paint evident in her voice, as well as the expression on her face. A mothers love for her son was something that could not be challenged, not in this world, not in any. Narcissa was determined to bring Draco back home, no matter what it took. And if that meant pumping Hermione for information, whatever method that may involve,she was willing to do it. Her last image of her son was his face as Harry Potter grabbed his arm before he disappeared, taking the platinum blonde teenager with him, a look of apology on his face. "She's my only hope, Bella." Bellatrix, aware of how important this was to her baby sister, glanced upwards, as if her eyes could see through the ceiling straight into the room where Hermione resided.

"He took Draco?" Both women were utterly surprised to hear Hermione's quiet, healing voice ringing through their ears. Narcissa physically jumped, her eyes coming down on Hermione as she slowly drifted in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at both women with a blanket wrapped around her body. She'd felt lightheaded and dizzy; admittedly she wasn't entirely ready for physical activity just yet, but she'd been awake for quite a few hours, and was getting rather antsy sitting in bed, waiting for her next punishment. Her eyes ran over Bellatrix, images of what had happened hours-days? Weeks?- ago projecting through her mind. The lightness of the woman's lips, her breath, Hermione's groans...then blood and pain, and Hermione's shrill scream sounding through the home.

"You're walking." Narcissa pointed out, ignoring the girls question. Bellatrix's eyes bore into the brunette's, a wicked smile growing on her lips as her eyes caught a glimpse of the forming scar on Hermione's ear. The Gryffindor simply nodded, too weak to say anything else as she stood before the pair, suddenly realizing that nobody had actually given her permission to get out of bed; and then wondering if she even needed it. From what she could put together, and from what she had heard of their conversation, Hermione seemed to be rather safe for the time being after Bellatrix's little stunt.

"He took Draco?" Hermione repeated, her curiosity getting the better of her. The question, though verbally unanswered, seemed to be addressed in the silence as Narcissa stared on at the young girl, her face stoic. Hermione could only imagine what Harry-and Ron, if he'd anything to do with his disappearance-had wanted with Draco; from what Hermione remembered, the blonde hadn't seem so very loyal to the Dark Lord in his last few moments, so she wasn't sure if Harry really had a motive. Or perhaps this was it. Or rather, Hermione was it. An eye for an eye; Hermione for Draco. She'd figured it was an even a trade as any; the Malfoy's had their son back, and Ron and Harry got Hermione back. From what she could tell, it seemed like a win-win situation to her. And then fell into place Bellatrix's role in the entire situation; her lord and master had been killed, and Hermione was her ticket to redemption. If Draco was never found, Hermione would be killed, and she was sure nobody would take as great a pleasure in performing the deed than Bellatrix herself.

"Yes, and if we don't get him back," Bellatrix began, advancing towards the girl who couldn't muster up the energy to try and escape, "it'll be your pretty little brains on the pavement." She breathed, back Hermione up against the doorframe with her piercing glare and low voice. If that was an indirect compliment, Bellatrix didn't notice, but Hermione certainly did, trying her best to ignore it. "So what are you going to do about it, hm?" The dark haired woman wondered aloud, quirking a dark brow as if she were challenging Hermione to keep silent about Harry's whereabouts.

"Bella…" Narcissa began, only to be silenced by a look from her sister. "Be careful. She is still healing." The blonde offered quietly, trying her best to make sure that her older sister didn't break what she considered a toy. The older woman snarled down at Hermione, taking a step back from her and turning away with a grunt. For what seemed like the thousandth time, Hermione was eternally grateful for the Malfoy's presence. Bellatrix had gotten a little to close a little too soon, and again Hermione felt herself being overwhelmed with thoughts and urges that she had tried very hard to repress. She was rewarded for her effort; neither woman commented on her approaching blush if they noticed it.

"Cissa, go on and tend to Lucius." Bellatrix ordered lightly, resting herself against the counter once again as her eyes began to burn into Hermione's. Narcissa looked at her sister curiously, unsure of what her demand meant. "Your husband is having a very hard time processing recent events. I suggest you go on and put your mouth to good use, if all you'll be doing here is ordering me around." Hermione could hardly believe that Bellatrix had had the gall to suggest such a thing, and by the look on Narcissa's face, Hermione assumed she wasn't to keen on the idea either. But Bellatrix was naturally rebellious in that way, and she stared down her sister, daring her to challenge her. Eventually, the blonde straightened her lips into a thin line, before snapping her fingers and disappearing. Once again, on a few too many occasions, Hermione was left alone with Bellatrix Lestrange.

For a few moments, nothing happened. The pair just stared at each other; Hermione unsure of what the older woman's next move was. But Bellatrix just stood still, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the marble countertop, and Hermione could hear the light 'tap' that her nails made as they drummed against the hard surface. The air was, in Hermione's opinion, thick with awkwardness and tension, though she supposed it had always been that way with Bellatrix Lestrange. But now there stood a large elephant in the room; Bellatrix had had her lips and hands on Hermione's body, and the brunette could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she had tried. "What are you thinking about, mudblood?" The older woman cocked her head to the side, sending ringlets of onyx hair falling over her shoulder. And just like that, Hermione was convinced that Bellatrix could read minds. A devilish smirk that could only belong to the older witch rested on her lips, as if she knew every thought and every desire that seemed to swim through the Gryffindor's mind.

"Nothing." In a sense, it was true. A large part of Hermione constantly thought about nothing; the state of it and it's being, and its effect on the way she went about her day. Especially during times such as these, Hermione felt that occupying her mind with nothing was exactly what she needed; in the sense that if she felt thought of nothing, she felt nothing, including pain. And confusion, as she so did in this moment. On the other hand, the young woman's thoughts were filled with hot kisses and wet mouths, roaming hands traveling down, down, down...snapping herself out of her own mind, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to catch up with the speed of her thoughts.

"That's quite a reaction to nothing." Bellatrix continued, knowing exactly what buttons to push and how to make Hermione squirm. And before Hermione knew, Bellatrix was again right in front of her. Unsure of how to react, the girl felt words being caught in her throat, unable to allow them to process due to the closeness of the pair. "I can see it, you know. You're not fooling anyone." Her voice was low and rather demanding, her eyes hooded by her lashes as she looked out between them, taking in Hermione's nervous and uncomfortable reaction. Hermione tried her best to formulate a response, to tell the woman to back off and that she didn't know what she was going on about. But then Bellatrix wrapped her thin fingers around the fabric of the blanket that hugged the young girl, sliding it off of her shoulders to reveal Hermione standing in an oversized t-shirt; Bellatrix was sure it belonged to Draco. The front was decorated in a green snake, supported by a silver background.

"I-I found it in a drawer." Hermione stuttered out the answer to a question that was never asked, not sure what else to say as Bellatrix examined it momentarily. A drawer that was otherwise empty, and for a moment upon discovering the article, Hermione had come to the conclusion that she was at some branch of the Malfoy-Black estates. To whom the home belonged to, she wasn't sure. And it wasn't like she had much of a chance at letting anybody know, even if she did figure it out.

And then, to Hermione's surprise, Bellatrix's hands were gentle on her waist. It was strange and new; consciously, Hermione hadn't felt a gentle touch at all since she'd been there; though she could only imagine that during her healing process, Narcissa was anything but aggressive with the girls wounds while she slept. What surprised her even more, though, was that the notion came from Bellatrix. Never had Hermione imagined that the woman was capable of touching something without breaking or bruising it, and yet her fingers tenderly wrapped around Hermione's waist as they tugged her closer to the raven haired woman. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the gesture, so she just held her breath, waiting for the woman to either bark in her face or push her forcefully up against the doorframe.

Neither came.