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Bellatrix leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbow on the unforgiving wood of her desk, and propping her head up in her hand. She listlessly looked around her cluttered office, feeling a particular drop in her heart as her eyes passed over all the things that made her think about Hermione.
There was the potted plant that Hermione had gifted her when she’d finally got promoted to Head Auror. Hermione had shown up as she was moving in her meager possessions and presented it with shining, smiling eyes. Bellatrix’s new office had a window, a rarity for any office within the Ministry of Magic, and Hermione had situated the little plant herself, playfully ordering Bellatrix to take care of it. Bellatrix had done so faithfully, watering it, and turning it on a weekly schedule to ensure it received adequate sunlight.
There were a few photographs around; one of herself and Hermione at a Quidditch game, both of them more absorbed in their conversation with each other than the revelry around them. In the photo Hermione scowled at whoever was sitting next to her as they boisterously celebrated some event in the game and knocked over her drink. Next to her in the photo Bellatrix handed her drink over without being asked, shooting the unknown person a dark glare as she did so.
There were books, of course, but at this point it would be impossible to tell which were hers and which were ones Hermione had bought for her. They exchanged books frequently and Bellatrix’s two bookcases were proof enough of that. They were all work-related, of course. Books on Muggle criminology, tomes on defensive spells, and a few scattered biographies of past Head Aurors that Hermione thought Bellatrix might be interested in.
She sighed. Hermione Granger. She was all Bellatrix thought about anymore. She’d wake up in the morning wondering how the other witch slept. She couldn’t sleep if she didn’t know where Hermione was. Sometimes she would be in a guest room at Black Manor, a mere two doors down from Bellatrix’s own room. Or she might be on the couch in the library, curled up like a cat with a stack of books before her and one open against her chest. On the rare occasion that Hermione went out with her friends and stayed out later, Bellatrix couldn’t rest until Hermione’s otter patronus sprang into her room to tell her she’d gotten home safely.
They’d known each other for a few years now, and Bellatrix had spent most of that time falling in love with her. She’d spent the last year trying to tell her, but she could never seem to find the words.
When it became clear that she couldn’t tell Hermione her feelings she thought to write them down. But she ended up wasting so much parchment in the endeavor, never quite satisfied with what she wrote. And thus, she had begun the ill-fated and completely unproductive quest to enlist Hermione’s friends for advice.
///
Nine months prior, at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place
Bellatrix held back a frown as she watched Harry Potter’s face take on an expression of smugness. He grinned and she rolled her eyes.
“I knew it,” he said, chuckling a bit. “Ginny owes me fifty galleons!”
“Oh, shut up, Potter!” she growled. “Or I’ll take you into the garden and duel that grin off your face.”
He held his hands up, playfully placating her, “Alright, alright.” Laughing again he asked, “So, what’s the problem? Can’t figure out what to say?”
She shook her head, “No. Couldn’t figure out what to write either.”
“How can I help?”
She tried not to scoff at his offer of assistance, forcing herself to see him as Hermione’s loyal friend and not the kiss-ass he could sometimes be at work, eager to be in her good favor. She’d trained Harry when he’d first joined the Aurors – and he was capable, but overzealous at times. As a Slytherin she admired ambition, but she was occasionally irritated by his puppy-like need to please others and aid them in any way he could.
“Looking for advice on how to make her realize that you love her?” He guessed.
She pursed her lips, answer enough.
He nodded, “Yeah, Hermione can be a bit… hard to get to sometimes.” He reached his hand up to rub at the stubble along his chin and jawline. “Have you thought about getting her a book?”
She raised an eyebrow, “A book? What book would accomplish that?”
“Realizing your best friend is in love with you and has been for years… for dummies?” He laughed.
She was about to take offense on Hermione’s behalf, but he waved her away.
“Just a Muggle joke, don’t worry about it. Hermione’s the smartest person I know but she’s a bit clueless about relationships. What if you got her a romance book? Something that mirrored your situation?”
And that was how, two hours later, she found herself in a Muggle bookstore, looking through lesbian romance books, a dismally small section. She sighed and put another book back on the shelf.
“Anything particular you’re looking for?”
She turned to see a younger woman, shorter than her, wearing one of those shiny name badges that Muggle workers often wore. She had on an outrageously ugly green apron, which Hermione had once explained to her was a uniform, not unlike the specific Auror robes she had to don at work herself.
“I’m looking for a book about two friends who become lovers.”
The young woman’s eyebrows raised as she looked over the section, “Well… that’s quite a lot of these. Is there anything that could help narrow your search?”
Bellatrix thought about it a moment, “Well… one of them needs to be older.”
“Ah,” the store clerk nodded, tapping a fingertip against their bottom lip thoughtfully. “That does help, you’re looking for a May-December romance.”
May-December? Bellatrix almost shook her head, she wasn’t after a calendar, but the woman had reached out for a book and turned it to read over the back.
“What about this one?” she offered. “It’s an older-younger pairing where they fall in love after working in the same hospital.”
Bellatrix shook her head, “No, no… not working together.”
“Ok,” the woman nodded, putting it back on the shelf. “Any particular jobs they should have? Or maybe a certain type of woman?”
Bellatrix bit her bottom lip as she tried to remember what Muggle job Hermione had once said was the most like hers. “A… detector?” She grimaced a bit.
“What was that?” the younger woman hadn’t seemed to have caught it. “A detective?”
Bellatrix brightened - that was it! “Yes, a detective! A mean one.”
“A mean detective?” the clerk’s expression told Bellatrix she’d said something odd.
“Not mean,” she rushed to say, trying to think of a better word.
“Aloof?”
“Yes!” Bellatrix relaxed, feeling her pulse calming as the young clerk looked through the bookcases slowly.
“Ah, try this one!”
Bellatrix took the little paperback from the young woman, looking over the cover carefully.
“It’s about a closed-off detective that falls in love with the criminal examiner. It’s a bit of a slow-burn too if you’re into that.”
Bellatrix was not into fire or being burnt, but she wasn’t going to judge this woman for whatever she got into when she wasn’t working. “What’s a… criminal examiner? The villain?”
“No,” the young woman looked amused. Bellatrix felt herself flush at her own ignorance. The woman’s expression softened a bit, “They work with detectives. They do all the science and stuff to help the detective solve the case.”
Bellatrix nodded, that was close enough to Hermione’s job as a Junior Solicitor in the Wizengamot.
She bought the book.
A week later she sat next to Hermione on the younger witch’s couch, both of them reading over a book when Hermione suddenly stopped and said, “You know, I really enjoyed that romance story you gave me.”
Bellatrix’s pulse sped up and she swallowed nervously, “Did you?”
“Yeah,” Hermione grinned at her, “it’s nice to read something like that every now and then, you know?”
“Hmm,” Bellatrix agreed, hoping Hermione would say more.
She didn’t though, simply went back to reading and then ten minutes later stood and asked Bellatrix if she was staying for dinner. Bellatrix agreed and they’d had a wonderful dinner, despite the sense of disappointment stewing in Bellatrix’s stomach.
Bellatrix’s glare at Potter during their morning meeting the next day was enough to make him shrink back to his desk and do his paperwork, making no noise and pretending he didn’t exist.
///
Seven months prior, at The Leaky Cauldron
Ron Weasley hid a belch behind his hand and Bellatrix felt her stomach turn. She supposed she should have been grateful he didn’t just do it outright in her face, with what she knew of his manners.
“So, you want what – some advice?” He asked, grabbing another chip from the basket between them.
Bellatrix nodded.
The redhead hummed and thought for a moment, long enough for Bellatrix to question why she came to him in the first place. He and Hermione had dated once, briefly, in school, though it had become clear quickly that they weren’t well suited for each other. Still, he remained one of her closest friends. Bellatrix sometimes wondered if he still held a bit of a flame for the bookworm, but that didn’t seem to be the case now, as he seemed somewhat bored.
“Not sure I could help, Black,” he chewed with his mouth parted slightly. “Not like I had much success with her in that department.” He laughed a bit.
She tried to pass off a grimace as a grin.
She’d never really liked Ronald, not during his brief stint in Auror training or when he’d left the program to work with his brothers at their joke shop. He rarely showed interest in anything other than food.
“Food might work,” he suggested, echoing her thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged, “Everyone likes food, don’t they? Take her to a couple of those fancy restaurants and… I don’t know… woo her?”
“Woo her?” Bellatrix looked at him with begrudging amusement.
He blushed, “Whatever, Black. You came to me.”
“I did,” she acquiesced, “you’re right.”
He smiled, “I don’t know why you don’t just tell her. She’s only got eyes for you, everyone knows that.”
“Did she say something?” The pathetic eagerness in her voice almost made her cringe.
“No, but she doesn’t have to. You spend all your time together already, you practically live together…” he trailed off. “What more do you want?”
She wanted to kiss her, obviously. And more. But she didn’t say that. She just blushed and looked down at the table.
His voice was kinder when it continued, “You should owl my mom and ask her how to make some of Hermione’s favorites. Maybe she’d appreciate that more than going out?”
Bellatrix nodded, sparing a glance up to send him a tentative smile, “That’s not a bad idea, Weasley.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk, “Glad to help.”
Molly Weasley was a woman of endless patience, Bellatrix had discovered. Despite the constant yelling at her children and the general chaos of their cramped household, Molly hadn’t raised her voice to Bellatrix or snapped at her once. Not even when the Auror had accidentally scorched off the matriarch’s eyebrows.
“Well… that’s what magic is for,” Molly laughed tightly and moved to the bookshelf in the corner of the kitchen, picking up an old book for aesthetic fixes.
Bellatrix rubbed her floured hand along her already soiled cheeks, “Molly, I am SO sorry.”
Molly waved her off, “It’s alright. These things happen when you’re learning something new.”
Bellatrix petulantly threw herself into a chair at the table and pouted, “At this rate I’ll burn the whole house down before I manage to make anything edible.”
Molly sighed and waved her wand to restore her eyebrows before joining Bellatrix at the table. “What’s so important about making pumpkin pasties for Hermione, anyway?”
Bellatrix wet her lips, regretting it as the taste of flour registered.
“Oh,” the answer seemed to occur to Molly, and she smiled warmly, “oh, Bellatrix. You don’t need to make a big to-do about it! Just tell her how you feel!”
Bellatrix exasperatedly put her forehead on the tabletop and groaned, “I can’t!”
“Oh, nonsense! You’re very well spoken, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that-”
A sudden POP of apparition startled both of them and Hermione’s voice rang out.
“Mrs. Weasley?”
Bellatrix stood abruptly from her chair, the legs shrieking against the floor as she did. She frantically looked around, her first impulse being to hide. But before she could choose a spot to try Hermione entered the kitchen.
“Bellatrix!” She looked happily surprised to see her there and gave the older witch a warm smile that Bellatrix hoped was just for her. “What are you doing here?”
“I… I was just-”
“I invited her over,” Molly cut in. “We’ve had a spot of trouble with one of the neighbors. I just wanted to ask for some advice, and I roped her into helping me bake a few things.”
Hermione laughed, taking in the room, “It’s not going so well, is it?”
Bellatrix’s lips formed a slight pout.
Hermione tilted her head as she assessed Molly with more scrutiny, “Have you dyed your eyebrows?”
“What?!?” Molly’s hands flew to her face as she moved out of the room in search of a mirror.
Hermione shook her head fondly as she watched the bewildered woman leave the room, then she moved closer to Bellatrix, grabbing a rag and handing it over with a smile, “I don’t think Molly’s ever let anyone help her in the kitchen before.”
Bellatrix licked her floury lips and muttered, “I wasn’t much help. As you can see.”
Hermione’s answering laugh was good-natured, and Bellatrix felt her mood begin to brighten, as it always did in Hermione’s presence.
“What were you making?”
“Pumpkin pasties,” Bellatrix supplied, resigning herself to accept the defeat of this attempt.
“Oh,” Hermione’s voice was tinged with disappointment. She lowered her voice and leaned towards Bellatrix as if they were conspiring, “Don’t tell Molly but I absolutely hate pumpkin pasties.”
Bellatrix mouth dropped open.
“I don’t like a lot of her cooking,” Hermione’s voice was still hushed, “but I felt bad when I was younger and told her they were my favorite.”
Hermione smiled sheepishly and Bellatrix hoped her answering smile was believable.
Molly reentered the room a moment later, her eyebrows now a much closer shade to her natural color. “Better?”
“Much,” Hermione laughed.
///
Five months prior, Golden Holdings café
“I can’t believe you didn’t come to me first!” Ginny Weasley’s voice wasn’t as shrill as her mother's could be but based on what Bellatrix was hearing now, it would come with age. “I’m Hermione’s best friend!”
Bellatrix levelled the younger woman with a blank look.
“Well, second to you I guess,” Ginny grumbled. “Still – the boys first?!? Are you mad?!? What in Merlin’s name do either of them know about romancing women, let alone Hermione?!?”
“Aren’t you dating one of them?” Bellatrix asked sardonically. “And didn’t the other actually date her at some point?”
“Details,” Ginny waved a careless hand. “I’ve already got the best advice sorted for you – you ready?”
Bellatrix nodded.
“Get her a cat.”
Bellatrix blinked. Somewhere in the café, a voice calmly recited a practiced order and the register clinked open. “Get her a cat?”
Ginny nodded, “She misses Crookshanks. You could get her a new familiar. And not to be indelicate but… with your funds, you could get her something really rare and interesting.”
Bellatrix tucked a stray curl back behind her ear as she thought of it. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. She’s never shown much interest in magical animals… not even owls.”
“I’ve already taken the liberty of reaching out to Hagrid, who informed me that there’s an expo this weekend at the open market. A few rare animal dealers will be there. You could take her for a stroll and see if anything catches her eye.”
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, “Well… what have I got to lose?”
Ginny’s unimpressed look made Bellatrix feel slightly better. “That’s the spirit,” the redhead said dryly, shaking her head in disbelief.
Bellatrix bit her lower lip in frustration. They’d been walking through this expo for a half hour, and aside from a few exclamations from Hermione about how cute something was or some outraged comment about the lack of regulations around magical animal care, Hermione hadn’t shown any interest in anything. She sighed. Looks like this was a wash too.
“Do you want to get something for lunch?” Bellatrix asked, as they neared the exit that headed back out into the street. She tried to uplift her mood by reminding herself that she and Hermione had plans for dinner tonight, so they had the rest of the day together and the older witch was sure she could salvage the day if they left now.
“That sounds great,” Hermione smiled.
Bellatrix let herself get a little lost in Hermione’s gaze. The younger witch was smiling, looking at Bellatrix with an expression that made the Auror feel hopeful that her feelings might be returned.
That expression soured a moment later, as they turned towards a loud screech behind one of the vendor tents.
Bellatrix, ever the professional, forced Hermione behind her and indicated she should stay put. She held her own wand out and called out as she entered the tent, “Aurors!”
“Oh, damn, you mangy shit! Look what you’ve gone and- Hello!” A man came around the corner, hastily trying to pull a stack of boxes over the entry of the room he’d just left. “Can I help you?”
“What was that noise? Everyone alright?” Bellatrix jutted her chin to the are behind him.
“Of course, everything’s-”
A deep, angry growl could be heard, and the man’s eyes widened.
“Step aside,” Bellatrix’s iron voice ordered.
The man sighed, defeated, and moved out of the way. “I’ve got a permit!” He shouted as Bellatrix pushed aside the boxes and lit her wand to see better.
A black Kneazle paced in a cage, its fur matted messily with a substance Bellatrix decided not to identify just yet. Its ear had a notch out of it, and it was missing half its tail. Poor creature. It wasn’t illegal to have and sell Kneazle cats but there was a high standard of care, one that clearly wasn’t being met here.
She turned a glare on the man and muttered an incantation to bind him.
One patronus, two backup Aurors, and another half an hour later, she was bundling up the surprisingly agreeable Kneazle into her robes and leaving the tent, looking for Hermione.
“Oh, poor thing,” Hermione gushed. She reached for it, Bellatrix handing it over on reflex before realizing that the creature was technically now Ministry property.
“What’ll happen to it?” Hermione’s eyes were watery as she assessed the pitiful thing.
“It’ll go to a shelter until it’s healthy and then… I don’t know,” Bellatrix admitted. “Maybe released back to the wild or sold to another vendor. I’m not sure.”
The Kneazle purred contentedly as Hermione carefully pet its tacky fur.
“Can’t I keep it?”
“Can you keep it?!?” Bellatrix looked at Hermione incredulously. She had a whole pocket full of Galleons right now, she could have bought Hermione a unicorn – TWO unicorns - if she had asked! But she wanted this mangy, half-starved, coated in Godric-knows-what, Kneazle.
Hermione’s eyes were round and hopeful, and Bellatrix sighed, deflating in her defeat. She turned tentatively towards one of the other Aurors who shrugged and said, “Less paperwork for us.”
An hour later Bellatrix was wrestling the cat, trying to bathe it the Muggle way because Hermione insisted it was “more thorough” – though that remained to be seen.
Bellatrix finally cleaned it off enough to realize the cat was greyer than it was black and wrapped it up tightly in a towel despite its many protests. She handed it carefully to Hermione, who took it but remained close, looking up at Bellatrix from her eyelashes.
“Today was wonderful. Thank you, Bella.”
Bellatrix nodded, her gaze on Hermione’s gorgeous, pink lips.
“I’m going to name him Orion,” Hermione said cheekily, “after you.”
Bellatrix sighed but couldn’t stop a smile from overtaking her face. “Alright.”
///
Three months prior, the library in Malfoy Manor
The problem was Hermione’s friends. Bellatrix was sure of it.
Oh, they might say they were rooting for her, but they’d done nothing helpful over the course of the last six months. So now, Bellatrix had turned to an expert.
“You could take out an ad in the newspaper,” Narcissa’s even voice interrupted Bellatrix’s musings.
“No, absolutely not.”
Narcissa sighed wearily. This had been her fourth idea that Bellatrix had shot down. Then her eyes lit up, “We still have those box seats for the Magical Opera! You could take her to that, surely she’d understand it was a date.”
Bellatrix perked up. That was a great idea and certainly more helpful than anything Hermione’s friends had suggested.
“Of course, you’ll need something to wear…” Narcissa trailed off.
Bellatrix sunk into her chair with a groan.
The night of the opera Bellatrix had spent more time in the mirror than she ever had in her life. And she’d spent her whole day apparating to Andromeda’s, then Narcissa’s, then her own home; around and around again, forgetting one thing or another or wanting a second or fourth opinion.
Now she was standing outside Hermione’s door and poised to knock. She’d seen it on a Muggle film Hermione had shown her recently and hoped that it would help Hermione understand that this was a date, not an outing between friends.
She knocked on Hermione’s door, holding her breath and then releasing it in a noise of surprise when Hermione answered the door wrapped up in a blanket.
Hermione’s brow furrowed and she looked up blearily at Bellatrix. “Bella?” The young witch coughed softly. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you get my owl?”
Bellatrix’s mouth hung open in surprise and she shook her head.
“Oh, Bella,” Hermione sighed, moving backwards to usher the older woman in. “I’m so sorry,” Hermione continued as she navigated the various piles of her living room to land in a heap on the couch. “I’ve come down with something and nothing I’ve taken has even touched it. I owled you hours ago trying to cancel.”
“Oh.”
Hermione’s mournful eyes peeked up at Bellatrix, “Oh, I feel awful. I’ve been sleeping or I would have sent you a patronus to be sure. I’m so sorry! You must be so disappointed.” Hermione sniffled.
Bellatrix moved closer and sat carefully on the coffee table in front of Hermione’s couch, leaning forward a bit so they were almost eye level.
“It’s alright,” Bellatrix assured her, keeping her voice low and soothing. “I’ve been running around all day so no wonder it couldn’t find me.”
Hermione sat up a bit and reached for an already wadded up tissue. She looked Bellatrix over through her watery eyes, “You look… stunning, Bella.” She sniffled again, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, “Andromeda helped me pick out a dress and I was going to wear my hair up and,” she groaned. “I was looking forward to it.”
“Another time,” Bellatrix promised.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Hermione asked, “Did you… did you knock on my door?”
Bellatrix thanked the low lighting in the room for hiding her blush, “I thought it would be novel.”
Hermione’s answering laugh turned into a coughing fit and Bellatrix leaned over further to rub her back gently.
Sighing, Hermione said, “That feels so good.”
Bellatrix bit her bottom lip and cleared her throat. “Do you want me to go so you can rest?”
Hermione pouted up at her, “I… well, I suppose you should. I don’t want you to get sick.”
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow knowingly, “Do you want me to cuddle on you on the couch?”
Hermione sniffled, her voice cracking emotionally as she answered, “Yes…”
Bellatrix chuckled and stood, “I’m borrowing pajamas,” she said as she moved towards Hermione’s room.
“You know where everything is,” Hermione said.
Bellatrix smiled, despite the change in plans for the evening. Holding Hermione on the couch, even if the other witch was feeling poorly, was way better than sitting a respectable distance apart in a theater box.
///
Two months prior, in Andromeda’s living room
“Do you want me to tell her for you?” Andromeda asked.
Bellatrix groaned and stood up, slamming the door behind her on the way out.
///
Present, Bellatrix’s office
A throat cleared in Bellatrix’s doorway, drawing her focus away from her pity party. She looked up and knew she wasn’t doing anything to hide her surprise from the woman standing in the doorway.
“Luna, right?” She asked, hoping she got it right. She’d only met Luna Lovegood a few times, through Hermione of course, but she’d never expected to see her here.
Luna nodded, moving almost dreamily into the room. “Hello, Bellatrix.”
“Hi…” Bellatrix had heard enough about Luna to be a little uneasy about this visit. “What uh… what can I do for you?”
“I’ve come to talk to you about Hermione.”
“Is she alright?!?” Bellatrix couldn’t help the edge of anxiety in her voice.
Luna’s head tilted slightly, and she smiled a faraway smile, “Oh, yes. She could be much better though, so I’ve come to help you.”
“Help me with what?”
Luna glided to the window and picked up the potted plant Hermione had given her. “Your plant needs tending.”
“It… does?” She folded her brow, trying to recall if she’d missed watering it recently.
“Yes.”
“Okay…” Bellatrix rose and started to approach, reaching for the plant, “I’ll just… water it then.”
Luna shook her head, “No. It doesn’t need water.”
Bellatrix dropped her arm. “What does it need?”
“I couldn’t say. Perhaps Neville would know.”
“Neville… Longbottom?”
Luna nodded sagely.
“You want me to… ask Neville… how to tend to my plant?”
“Yes. It’s very important for Hermione.”
“For… what? What do you mean?”
Luna carefully set the plant on Bellatrix’s desk and smiled serenely at the Auror, “Neville will help and then Hermione will be doing much better. And so will you.” The white-blonde woman turned to head for the door, turning back once to say, “He’s here for a meeting and will be in the Atrium in six minutes.”
Then she disappeared.
Bellatrix looked at the potted plant and then looked upwards to the heavens, groaning. She knew enough of Luna’s reputation to quickly grab the plant and sprint towards the Atrium, hoping she’d catch the man in time.
“Longbottom!” she called out, coming to a stop and panting as the man in question turned to face her.
“Bellatrix?”
She held up a finger, indicating that she needed a moment to catch her breath. She handed him the plant, still breathing heavily as she said, “Hermione… plant…” and tried to gesture with her hands. It was clear from the expression on her face that even if she’d had the breath to explain, she still wouldn’t know what to say.
Neville laughed knowingly, “Luna?”
Taking in a heaving breath Bellatrix nodded, “Luna.”
Neville moved to the side of the walkway, where a short bench sat. They both settled on it, and he looked over the plant in question.
“She said it needed… tending and you would know… how to do it,” Bellatrix’s breath was slowly evening out.
“Ah,” Neville said. “Well, she’s right. It’s a Willowbloom. Don’t see many of these in offices. Most people think they require a bit too much attention.”
Bellatrix gave him a confused look, “What do you mean? I water it and it seems fine to me. Why do they call it a Willowbloom? It’s never bloomed.”
Neville nodded, still looking over the plant in interest, “Well, it won’t bloom on its own. It doesn’t know how.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small pocketknife, gesturing with his eyes towards the plant. “May I?”
Bellatrix nodded.
“See here?” He pointed with the tip of the blade to a small node that was at one of the junctions of stems. “That’s where it will flower from, but you’ve got to make it do it.” He snipped one of the stems off carefully and slowly a tendril grew out, quickly blooming into a beautiful, dark blue flower.
Bellatrix gasped. She handled the plant carefully as Neville handed it back to her.
“Isn’t it odd?” He mused, looking thoughtful. “It’s like it doesn’t even know that flowering is an option, so it just goes on as it always has. You just need to let it know it can flower and poof! It’s happy to do so.”
Bellatrix suddenly went very still.
“Are you alright?” Neville seemed worried about her change in demeanor.
“It… doesn’t know it’s an option?”
“Oh,” Neville laughed, “yeah. Pretty thick-headed for a plant, huh?”
They looked at each other for a moment before Neville seemed to understand something. He smiled sweetly at her, “I suppose some things just need to be told what paths are available.”
“Thank you,” Bellatrix said sincerely, rising quickly to her feet.
“I’ll owl you some more info about the plant,” he offered, smiling as Bellatrix turned to walk away. “And Bellatrix?” he shouted after her, “Good luck!”
///
Bellatrix Floo’d into Hermione’s flat as expected, wiping soot off her robes, and calling out, “Hermione?”
“In the bedroom,” Hermione answered.
Bellatrix charged towards the voice, on a mission.
Hermione looked up with a smile when she saw her, “Hey you! Have you seen my-”
Bellatrix cut her off by pulling her into a firm kiss, holding Hermione against her own body with a solid grip.
Hermione returned the kiss a bit but then pulled back. She looked at Bellatrix’s lips dazedly and said, “Oh.”
Bellatrix swallowed her nerves and waited.
Hermione’s brown eyes met her own and blinked rapidly for a few moments. Then, the younger witch broke into a dazzling smile. “Oh!” She laughed and kissed Bellatrix, who responded eagerly, until they were both smiling too much and had to pull away.
Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “I didn’t know we…” she trailed off.
“Yeah,” Bellatrix smiled, reaching to pull Hermione into another kiss. “I know.”