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After serving 7 years under the watchful eyes of the Aurors at Hogwarts—The same Aurors who failed to see a link between Bellatrix and a certain Avian Apocalypse—Bellatrix was freed of her contractual obligations and had since moved out of the castle in favor of the newly restored Black Manor.
Likewise, Hermione moved in, as all friends do. Some of the daring people would say she was Bellatrix’s good friend, or perhaps even best friend. A best friend who would sleep together and also accompany her to a singles dinner for two. In other words, a friendly friend. The type of friendly friend that only the extremely dense believe in their solely platonic delusion.
The same type of friendly friend that noticed when her partner locked herself away in the library… planning something. Something that she didn’t want Hermione to see, something that Hermione was dreading.
After breaking the rather simple ward on the library doors—because nothing would stop her from reaching her love—Books, of course—And perhaps Bellatrix depending on the day—She found herself looking at Bellatrix hunched over the large library table looking over a world map.
There Bellatrix stood looking far too cute to Hermione who knew at that moment Bellatrix was probably storming up trouble as she twirled the quill in her hand and mulled over where else to draw another circle on the already cluttered and marked up map. Hermione walked up as Bellatrix decided to circle a location in North America. Nearby were a few worn books and judging by the open pages, they were atlases.
And the map was a war plan… of sorts which the targets included most if not all of Europe and North America.
“You can’t just take over Denmark,” Hermione remarked after looking down at one of Bellatrix’s targets.
“I wouldn’t be taking them over.” Bellatrix stressed as Hermione didn’t buy her excuse, and rightfully so as Bellatrix continued to explain. “I’d be liberating them from their oppressive monarchy.”
“They aren’t ruled by the monarchy, the people have power.”
Bellatrix grabbed one of the nearby books and pointed at one of the pages. “The KINGDOM of Denmark, from the sound of that it’s a monarchy.” Bellatrix flipped through a few pages. “Oh, look a page about the Danish Royal Family.”
Hemione pulled out a chair and flopped down in it. ‘Tonight will be a long one,’ she thought. “Bellatrix,” She sighed, “the UK, United Kingdom. Are we really ruled by the Queen???”
“She’s not my queen,” Bellatrix uttered in disgust. “Hermione,” Bellatrix reached out for her hand and stroked it. “Just for once, support me. I’m embracing my French roots. It’s time to overthrow kings and kingdoms. It’s time to decapitate some royalty and let the cobblestone streets turn red with their blood.”
Hermione returned the gesture as she reminded her of history. “You do realize they also decapitated the nobility.” She paused to emphasize the next part, “O’ Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.”
Bellatrix paused in her thoughts before shaking her head. “No, no. You misheard. We’re the most Ancient and Most Nebula House of Black.” Hemione had to give her credit for her ability to bullshit things on the fly with her attempt to weasel out of her family’s aristocratic ties. “Name another family with as many people named after the stars. You can’t. We're the most nebulous house in the wizarding world. There isn’t a single family that loves the stars more than mine.”
Hermione glanced down at the map trying to read Bellatrix’s messy handwriting. “So you’d overthrow a constitutional monarchy for what? A dictatorship!?”
“It would be a DUCK-tatorship!” Bellatrix countered, with a horrible pun.
“You said you wouldn’t use animals for your schemes.” Hermione got Bellatrix to promise never to cause mayhem with animals again after the Duck-pocalypse that turned the Ministry into disarray from the sheer number of duck on wizard-kind attacks.
“No, I said I’d never use living creatures in my schemes and quest for world domination.” Bellatrix stressed, pointing out multiple loopholes in her promise. “I have since then rebranded my ideas.” Bellatrix grinned, “I will now liberate select places from their oppressive governments by instituting my own form of government in which I am in charge with absolute, unquestionable, indisputable power.”
Hermione finally made sense of the scribbles on the map. ‘Kingdom of Denmark, Kingdom of the Netherlands, Kingdom of Belgium,’ she furrowed her eyebrow, ‘Kingdom of Germany, Kingdom of Canada, Kingdom of United States…’
“Bellatrix, you can’t just slap the words ‘kingdom of’ in front of a country, fight their government, and call yourself a freedom fighter.”
“I’d be a liberator,” she corrected, “Everyone knows freedom fighters fight freedom. Firefighters fight fire, Crime fighters fight crime, and freedom fighters - freedom. And you’re distracting me from the more important question, are you going to help me kill the King of Denmark?”
Hermione remained silent as she fought off the urge to laugh. “I’m sure you, General Quackula, and the duck army can accomplish it without me.” That and the Danish monarch was a woman, a queen, for nature had beat Bellatrix on killing the Danish King.
Hemione felt Bellatrix’s arms come up from behind and wrap around her. “But I want you at my side,” Bellatrix whined as she rested her head on Hermione’s shoulder. It was kind of sweet in a messed up ‘plotting the murder of a government figure and the downfall of governments’ way. Hermione breathed in Bellatrix’s scent, which was mixed with the smell of parchment and ink, and if she wasn’t mistaken, fire whiskey.
“Fire whiskey,” Hermione commented.
Bellatrix hummed in agreement. “So will you join me?” she asked.
“I’ll think about it,” Hermione answered. Not that she was thinking about joining Bellatrix in her quest for world domination—or as she would put it global liberation—no matter how sweet or cute she thought about Bellatrix’s desire to have her rule at her side, but because she was sure she could get Bellatrix to sleep and eventually forget about her plans. And even if Bellatrix continued with her plans, it wasn’t like anyone would be in real danger. At the very least, the very deceased King of Denmark was safe.