Chapter Text
If Hermione had believed that breaking free of the “True Lovers Kiss” jinx would finally shift the school’s attention elsewhere, she couldn’t have been more wrong.
Hermione had barely left the Great Hall that morning, before she realized she had become the center of attention once again. Students stared openly; whispers erupted the moment she passed; heads tilted toward one another in hushed, conspiratorial murmurs every time she entered a room.
The mere fact that it had taken her seventeen days to give in was, apparently, enough to ignite half the school’s collective imagination. And with the identity of her mysterious “savior” still unknown, the gossip had only grown more absurd and rumors were spreading faster than Dragon Pox at a Renaissance Faire.
To her growing frustration, she heard most of it.
“It’s definitely Ron. I mean.. come on.”
“I could have sworn she was still pining over Krum!”
“I swear I saw her snogging Colin Creevey behind the greenhouse last night.”
“No! I’m telling you, it’s obviously Potter. Do you see the way she looks at him?”
“I think she just loves the attention. Who knows, maybe no one ever actually jinxed her.”
“I saw her making eyes at Justin Finch-Fletchley- If that were me, I’d be embarrassed too.”
Hermione’s grip tightened around her wand. Wrong, wrong, all wrong! But she couldn’t correct them- not without exposing herself... and exposing Bellatrix. And that could mean-
Her mind terminated the thought before it could fully form.
She passed a group of familiar Slytherins, her eyes darted instinctively toward Bellatrix, who was already watching her. Bellatrix didn’t smirk this time- only offered a brief, unreadable glance as not to cause suspicion, before she turned and disappeared into the sea of Slytherins.
A small, uncontrollable smile tugged at Hermione’s lips.
She missed her already. The feeling of Bellatrix’s lips moving against her own. The faint scent of parchment and cedarwood that clung to her. The warmth of her touch and that dangerous, magnetic smirk she always wore like a weapon even when she was trying not to.
She still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that she had actually kissed Bellatrix Black!
And for some unfathomable reason, that Hermione was still trying to comprehend, Bellatrix had kissed her back.
The memories of the night they’d spent together- kissing, touching, talking- until the water had long gone cold and they’d finally been forced to separate, lingered vividly in Hermione’s mind. She had replayed every moment a hundred times since. Chasing every detail. Every touch. Every breath. It was a night she wished she’d never forget.
Spending that time with Bellatrix had made her realize she wished she’d taken Prof. McGonagall’s advice sooner and kissed her. Of course, all in retrospect, knowing what she knew now.
Maybe one day, they could even go on a real date. Hermione hadn’t been surprised when Bellatrix made it abundantly clear that their relationship could only exist in secret. She wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, but she couldn’t pretend that she had expected anything else.
And if that meant, that this was the only way she got to spend time with Bellatrix, she couldn’t care less. She would give Bellatrix all the space she needed. Because everything was preferable to the alternative.
-
With Hermione still determined to keep the identity of her mysterious “savior” to herself, students were quick to redirect their attention to the next most obvious candidates:
Harry and Ron.
By lunchtime, the Gryffindor table was buzzing with speculation and Hermione had no idea how they had managed to survive the bombardment of questions without losing their minds.
Ron was loudly protesting his involvement, Harry kept calmly denying every rumor thrown his way and Ginny- Ginny was uncharacteristically silent, stabbing her potatoes with far more force than strictly necessary.
Hermione caught her eye, but Ginny offered only a thin, brittle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Hermione’s stomach sank. Ginny was angry with her. She was her friend and yet Hermione still refused to confide in her. They were meant to share things like this. Hermione was certain that was some sort of girl-code violation.
It wasn't that she didn’t want to tell Ginny. She did. She wanted to shout the truth from the Astronomy Tower for all to hear. But how could she admit that the person who had broken her silence wasn't Harry, or Ron, or some shy Gryffindor boy, but Bellatrix bloody Black? Pure trouble wrapped in a Slytherin uniform.
And so she stayed silent. Let the rumors whirl. Let the castle talk itself into circles and make up it’s own stories.
“Mione, look… you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But people are driving themselves mad! Just… give them something.” Ron muttered, shoveling more gravy into his mouth. “Everybody thinks it’s me. If they find out it’s not, imma look like a right git!”
Ginny didn’t even bother hiding her glare as she rounded on Hermione. “Why won’t you just tell us? I understand keeping it from the others, but us? I thought we told each other everything. Or have we lost your trust somehow?”
Hermione’s chest tightened painfully. She wanted to scream the truth, but what would happen then? Bellatrix Black- proud, untouchable, Slytherin’s whirlwind- ruined by whispered mockery for kissing a Gryffindor Mudblood. Hermione couldn’t do that to her. Not when she knew what it could cost.
So she kept her silence.
She said nothing.
-
By dinner, Hermione had barely taken her seat at the Gryffindor table when shadows fell over her.
Fred and George Weasley slid onto the bench across from her in perfect unison, identical grins already plastered on their faces.
“Well, well, Granger.” Fred drawled, resting his chin in his hands. “Word around the castle is, your silence was broken. You’re keeping secrets.”
“Terrible habit.” George agreed, shaking his head. “If you tell us, we can share the prize.”
Hermione sighed, reaching for a piece of bread. “Prize? If you two think I’m going to tell you-”
“Oh, no no no.” Fred interrupted, wagging a finger. “We’d never dream of forcing you.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it.” George echoed. “We’ll just… deduce.”
They exchanged a look of promised mischief before leaning closer. Fred pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and George tapped it with his wand.
“Operation: Identify Hermione’s Mystery Smoocher” was written in bold letters at the top.
Hermione froze, bread halfway to her mouth. “You did not.”
“Oh, we did!” George said cheerfully. “Question one. Was it a Gryffindor?”
Hermione glared at both of them, refusing to answer.
“Ah, silence. Interesting.” Fred mused. “Highly suspicious silence!”
“Fine. Question two.” George went on unperturbed. “Did they use tongue?”
Hermione nearly choked. “GEORGE!”
“What? It’s vital data!” He said innocently.
“Fine, fine.” Fred cut in with mock seriousness. “To be fair, this is child’s play compared to what the Ravenclaws cooked up.”
Hermione frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do I- What do you mean?”
George grinned, enjoying the dramatic pause. “Oh, just that they’ve got a whole blasted chart. The betting pool is growing by the minute.”
“Big parchment monstrosity. Names, odds, columns. They’re running it like an accounting firm.” Fred interjected. “I’m afraid our humble efforts pale in comparison. We’re amateurs compared to Ravenclaw’s statistical obsession.”
Hermione groaned, pressing her forehead into her palm. “You have got to be joking.”
“Not even a little.” George said cheerfully. “They’ve got your entire social history mapped out. Cross-referenced and footnoted. They even factored in Krum.”
“And, uh-” Fred coughed, suddenly gleeful. “Money is on the Prefects at the moment.”
“Let’s just say, current rumor is, that it happened in the Prefect bathroom.” George added conspiratorially, elbowing Fred. “Oh-ho, is she interested now?”
“She’s blushing.” George smirked. “It’s confirmed.”
“How scandalous!” Fred gasped dramatically.
Hermione’s grip tightened around her fork, glaring daggers at both of them. “If you don’t stop, I’ll hex you into next week.”
“Temper, temper.” George sing-songed.
The twins got up in perfect sync, leaving the parchment behind, covered in ridiculous scrawl: Gryffindor? Used tongue? Prefect? Malfoy? Too obvious?
Hermione snatched it up, crumpling it furiously though she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips.
-
Within a single day, there wasn’t a student at Hogwarts who hadn’t heard about the Ravenclaw chart. The castle had gone full detective mode to uncover the mystery of Hermione’s secret “True Lovers Kiss”. Even students who hadn’t initially been invested eventually joined the effort, none wanting to be left out of the loop.
By pooling their observations, they managed to construct an almost hour-by-hour timeline of the night in question. The students shared Hermione’s last known locations, cross-referenced sightings and debated theories with a ridiculous academic vigor. Soon they had enough data collected to narrow down the most likely setting of the so-called ‘incident’- the Prefects bathroom.
Meanwhile, the betting pool had grown to an impressive amount of money and by this point, no one was willing to lose their stake- fueling increasingly elaborate and often absurd conspiracies.
With their combined information, it was the first time Harry and Ron’s names were removed entirely from the list of possible culprits, too many witnesses confirmed they had spent the entire evening in the Gryffindor common-room playing board games.
Naturally, suspicion pivoted toward the other prefects, or anyone sly enough to sneak into the Prefects bathroom. And just like that, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were crowned the Ravenclaw board’s new joint number one suspects.
-
Ginny couldn’t fathom why Hermione still refused to tell her who she was so hopelessly infatuated with. She always told Hermione everything -absolutely everything- and though she hated admitting it even to herself, Hermione’s secrecy felt like a full-on betrayal.
How bad could this mystery person possibly be? The two of them had clearly ended up kissing and with the main suspects already eliminated, Ginny had assumed it must have been some shy, quiet boy from another house- someone harmless, someone easily overlooked.
Her theory had been sound. Hermione was obviously protecting someone- herself or the other person. Either she felt embarrassed about it, or it was fear of judgment. Perhaps she’d kissed someone who didn’t return her feelings, or was already in a relationship with someone else. But even with all of those possibilities, one simple question kept lingering in the back of her mind: Why wouldn’t she tell her best friends?
Then the Ravenclaw chart had been updated, placing Draco and Pansy at the top, causing Ginny’s perspective to change. Suddenly, it kind of made sense. Either of them would be mortifying for Hermione to admit to. If not for one obvious problem Hermione despised them both.
Draco could be confidently ruled out. Hermione had denied it so fast it nearly had set off sparks.
But Pansy… Ginny wasn’t so sure. She had never seriously considered that Hermione might fancy girls. She had dated Krum, they had giggled over Cedric and Ginny had noticed the stolen glances Hermione occasionally cast at Ron. Even the night Ginny had kissed Hermione, it had been more curiosity than actual conviction, more a question than believe.
Draco’s reaction to the chart had only strengthened her believe. He had demanded his name be removed, threatening to involve his father. Pansy, however, had stayed unusually quiet. Ginny had watched her closely – a little too closely- only to discover Pansy’s gaze lingering at someone else. Bellatrix. Whatever Pansy was hiding, it wasn’t her interest in Hermione.
Yet despite everything, Hermione seemed unnervingly calm. Far too cheerful for someone who was supposedly going through a heartbreak. She had been radiant, smiling at books she was clearly not even reading, staring into space as if replaying some secret memory.
Ginny had never seen her like that. It was anything but heartbreak behavior.
-
“The Ravenclaws are going to pass out!” Bellatrix smirked, flicking her wand over the parchment.
“Wait until someone bets ten Galleons on it.” Pansy giggled, leaning in to shield what Bellatrix was doing.
“That’ll teach them not to put us back on number one.” Draco muttered.
It had only taken the combined effort of a few Slytherin students to break the charm protecting the Ravenclaw chart to mess with it. And just like that, every distributed copy featured Prof. Severus Snape at the top of the list with an absurd 86% likelihood of being Hermione’s “True Lovers Kiss”.
The discovery sparked chaos almost immediately. Crowds of students formed around the charts, voices rising in shocked whispers that rippled through the Great Hall.
Hermione had barely taken her seat at the breakfast table when Neville barreled over and slapped a copy of the Ravenclaw Probability chart on the table.
“Look! They updated the chart!” He announced excitedly.
Hermione leaned over, eyes scanning the Ravenclaw Probability Chart with growing horror. Rows of names, percentages, little scribbles in margin-like she was some kind of Arithmancy problem to be solved.
“A whole chart? This cannot be real.” Hermione breathed out, as her eyes took in the parchment.
“Oh, that’s not even the big one.” Luna said cheerfully. “The real chart in our dorm has graphs and color-coding.”
In disbelief, Hermione’s eyes skimmed the list-
Hermione Granger’s True Lover’s Kiss Probability Index
1) 86 % - Severus Snape
…
She stopped breathing.
Snape?
SNAPE? That almost made Hermione’s blood freeze cold. Hermione’s mind raced. There was only one person twisted enough to think this was funny. But if Bella had actually done this, that would mean that she was aware of the list. And that meant she had not only seen it, she’d left her mark, bold and unashamed, as if daring Hermione to notice.
Almost as if wanting to confirm her suspicions, she looked up, finding dark amused eyes already watching her.
Hermione’s stomach flipped at the exchange. Bellatrix was going to be the death of her. But before she had a chance to check out the rest of the list, a cold emotionless drawl came from behind her.
“Miss Granger.”
Hermione squeaked in mortification, whirling around to find Professor Snape, who looked like he was chewing on a lemon, standing there.
“Yes, sir?”
“I assure you, whatever Gryffindor delusion caused this-” He said, gesturing to the parchment in his hand, that was identical to the one laying in front of her. “- I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
The Great Hall was holding its breath, all eyes directed toward them.
“I- I know. I know, Sir.” Hermione stammered.
With a single sharp movement, Snape tore the parchment cleanly in half, before turning toward the Slytherin table. Almost instantly, every head snapped away, most of them becoming extremely interested in their porridge.
Bellatrix trembled with the effort not to laugh. Pansy bit her lip so hard Hermione wondered how she didn’t draw blood and Draco slid under the table, like a ferret seeking shelter, avoiding eye contact.
Snape’s eyes narrowed further. “Mr. Malfoy.”
A tiny voice from under the table muttered. “I am not here.”
Snape shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting a migraine. He then turned, but before he left, he said in a voice full of resigned suffering. “If I see my name on that chart again, I will be assigning detentions until the year 2074.”
The Ravenclaws scrambled as if their lives depended on it. The parchment in front of Hermione shimmered and shifted instantly.
Hermione took a deep breath, before looking at it once more.
Hermione Granger’s True Lover’s Kiss Probability Index
1) 81 % - Dean Thomas
2) 80 % - Pansy Parkinson
3) 79 % - Ernie MacMillian
4) 77 % - Anthony Goldstein
...
Hermione scoffed. The chart was absolute rubbish. They couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was relieved to see that Bellatrix’s name hadn’t even made the list.
The moment she had found out that the Ravenclaws had narrowed down the time and place of the incident, Hermione had felt a cold dread creep up her spine, but seeing the new rankings, the fear of being discovered had vanished almost completely.
Ironically, the fact that Bellatrix had messed with the chart had given Hermione a surprisingly peaceful morning. Everyone was too busy trying to figure out who had messed with the chart to bother pestering her. It had given her much needed peace.
Unfortunately, that peace ended at dinner. She had barely sat down, when Harry and Ron grinned at her like idiots.
“What?” She asked, squinting at them suspiciously.
“The chart’s newest number one.” Harry smirked, looking over at the bulk of students before taking an infuriatingly long sip of pumpkin juice.
“Who was that again?” Hermione asked, lifting her chin to see who everybody was huddling around.
“Dean Thomas.” Neville chimed in.
“Okay.” Hermione turned to look. Dean was surrounded by students, absolutely basking in the attention like he’d been crowned their new king.
“What about it?” she asked warily.
“He hasn’t denied it.” Neville explained, looking over toward the crowd. “But I know it’s not him. There wouldn’t be a reason to keep quiet. He is quite handsome.”
Unprompted, her gaze moved toward the Slytherin table. Bellatrix was watching, but not her- her eyes were set on Dean Thomas. Hermione could see the murder in her eyes. If Bellatrix was known for something, it was not being rational. Dean had no idea what he was getting himself into.
“Oh, Merlin.” Hermione muttered, getting to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Ron asked confused.
“Putting an end to this, I’ll see you guys later.” she said, already moving.
When she pulled Dean aside, he was all grins and even more smug when the crowd erupted into hoots and whistles.
But once they were out of earshot, Hermione crossed her arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m helping you.” Dean said innocently. “Taking the pressure off. They’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Dean.” She groaned. “Please stop. Today! Before something happens. I’m serious.”
“Don’t worry. What could possibly happen?” Dean asked, entirely too oblivious.
Hermione took in a deep breath. “Look. I get its probably hard to understand, but please. Just stop.”
“Alright, alright.” Dean relented, then pouted. “Maybe, just today?”
Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed before shaking her head in amusement. “It’s your call. But I’m warning you, you really should stop now! Truly. You never know what could happen.”
Dean blinked, puzzled. But before he could ask what she meant, Hermione sharply turned and left before she accidentally warned him that a protective, unhinged Slytherin with very good aim was probably already stalking him.
-
Bellatrix bristled as she watched Dean Thomas lounging in the Potions classroom, hands folded behind his head, grinning like he was on the cover of Witch Weekly’s “Most Eligible Bachelor” issue.
She wanted nothing more than to wipe that ugly, self-satisfied smirk off his face. Pansy had already intervened twice to stop her from costing Slytherin another handful of house-points; yet Bellatrix’s wand hand kept twitching with unmistakably violent intent.
She’d caught wind of the rumor- that Dean was walking around Hogwarts, smug as ever, letting everyone think he was the one who kissed Hermione. By late afternoon, Dean was descending the staircase from the Astronomy Tower with a crowd of admirers trailing after him, all laughing at one of his embellished “Maybe I am… Maybe I’m not- I don’t kiss and tell.” stories.
This time- to Deans detriment- Pansy wasn’t there to hold her back.
He never saw the hex coming. A streak of red light crackled through the air, striking him square in the legs. Dean let out a startled yelp before tumbling spectacularly down the staircase, limbs flailing. He landed at the bottom in a groaning heap.
Gasps filled the corridor as worried students ran after him and before anyone could spot Bellatrix, she quickly vanished into the shadows.
-
Hermione was relieved when she entered the Great Hall the next morning and didn’t see a crowd gathered around Dean Thomas. That could only mean that he’d kept his word. But as she reached the Gryffindor table and noticed the enormous dark bruise blooming around his left eye, her stomach dropped.
“What happened to Dean?”
“Let’s just say... he had an unfortunate tumble down the stairs.” Ron said in between bites, looking surprisingly smug.
“What?” Hermione exclaimed, staring at him.
Neville leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Apparently some people saw Black hex him. Completely unprompted.”
Hermione’s gaze instinctively flicked to the Slytherin table. Bellatrix looked away so fast she might as well have been caught red-handed. Hermione’s heart lurched with panic and something too complicated to name.
Before she could form a coherent thought, an identical pair of shadows fell over her shoulders, peering at a piece of parchment like vultures spotting fresh meat.
“Well, well, well.” George said, grinning from ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to Hermione. “Looks like our dear Hermione’s romantic prospects are more exciting than the Daily Prophet.”
“Indeed.” Fred agreed, sliding into the other seat next to Hermione, tapping the parchment. “Though I must say, a 63% likelihood of me being the mystery smoocher? You should have seen McLaggen’s face when his name moved below mine.”
“You have to be joking.” Hermione groaned, dragging a hand over her face.
“Oh, we would never joke about statistics. And look- someone new made the list.” George said, savoring the moment, before he lifted up the parchment to read in mock drama. “Bellatrix Black. Odds: 1%. Notes: highly implausible, but can’t be ruled out after the staircase incident.”
Hermione nearly fainted, quickly grabbing her pumpkin juice in a desperate attempt to keep her hands occupied.
“Honestly.” Fred said grinning. “It is kind of poetic. The jealous Slytherin angle. All very dramatic. Almost romantic, don’t you think.”
Hermione nearly spat her pumpkin juice across the table.
George waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t suppose it could be true Fred, do you? Miss Goody-Toe-Shoe Prefect, swept up in a dangerous love affair with a Slytherin. The scandal!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time opposites attracted.” Fred mused, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Gryffindor’s golden girl and Slytherin’s troubled blood-purist… “
Hermione set her cup down very carefully, willing her hands not to shake.
Ron snorted. “Come off it. Black? She’d sooner hex Hermione into the next week than kiss her.”
George shot Hermione a sly look. “Stranger things have happened.”
Neville shifted nervously, his gaze flicking toward the Slytherin table. “Can we maybe change the topic? I don’t want to get on Black’s bad side again.”
Completely ignoring him, Fred went on. “Personally, I think we should bump up her odds. After all, Dean’s tumble didn’t come out of nowhere.”
Ginny, who had been silently observing Hermione’s increasingly panicked expression, finally cut in. “Or, just maybe- and hear me out on this- Black just hexed him because she felt like it. Honestly, you lot are hopeless.”
Hermione’s cheeks burned. They were far, far too close. Even if they were just joking.
She forced a laugh, aiming for casual. “Honestly, you two. This whole chart is ridiculous.”
“So true.” Ginny agreed. “Hermione and Black? Come off it.”
Fred smirked. “Oh, it is not. It is a castle-wide investigation!”
“You could also just tell us. If not Black, who’s the mystery snog?” George asked, eyebrows waggling.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but her heart was pounding wildly.
“Or, if they ever get too close, let us know. We’ll happily throw in a few red herrings for you.”
“Yeah. Nothing says misdirection like a rumor about Filch.” George smirked conspiratorially.
-
Hermione should have expected Bellatrix to be reckless. Standing still was simply not in her nature. Hermione couldn’t wait another day- not after seeing the bruise on Dean’s face, or the way Bellatrix’s eyes darted away from hers, caught somewhere between a smirk and an urge to flee.
Before Transfiguration class ended, Hermione scribbled a quick note on a torn scrap of parchment:
“Tonight after practice. Meet me in the Dungeons. You know where.”
As soon as the bell rang, she rose from her seat and walked straight into Bellatrix.
“Oh- I’m sorry.” Hermione stammered, slipping the note into Bellatrix’s robes in one smooth motion.
For half a second, Bellatrix looked genuinely startled. Then her mask slid into place.
“Watch where you’re going, Mud-!”
Her eyes flicked toward McGonagall, who was watching them like a hawk. Bellatrix grabbed Hermione by her robes, pulling her close enough that Hermione felt her breath brush against her ear. “You’re lucky McGonagall is here.”
Then, just before releasing her, Bellatrix gave a quick wink and swept away dramatically, her hair flying.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, Bellatrix just loved the theatrics more than the danger.
“What was that about?” Ginny asked, standing in the doorway.
“Oh, I… I just accidentally bumped into her.” Hermione replied quickly, forcing a casual tone.
-
After a quick detour to the kitchen for a late-night snack, Ginny, pockets full of sweets, was making her way back to the common room when movement at the edge of her vision caught her eye. A bushy head of hair slipping quickly down a shadowed staircase.
It was Hermione. Curious and uneasy, Ginny followed.
Hermione looked over her shoulder, as if she didn’t want to be seen. Frowning, Ginny checked the time- five minutes before curfew. She trailed Hermione all the way to the dungeons, a knot of unease settling in her chest. Ginny stayed hidden, careful to keep her steps light as she followed.
Rounding a corner, Ginny spotted a figure and froze. Instinctively, she pressed herself behind a pillar, wand at the ready, prepared to defend Hermione by any means necessary.
“Well, well, well. A Gryffindor in the dungeons. Should I be flattered or concerned?” The smug voice of Bellatrix Black echoed off the stone walls.
Ginny’s stomach dropped. She stepped forward, aiming her wand, only inches from launching a hex to send Black straight to St. Mungo’s.
But then-
“Shut up.” Hermione laughed -actually laughed- stepping right into Bellatrix’s space, wrapping her arms tightly around the Slytherin.
Ginny’s wand slipped in her grip. She barely caught it, quickly slipping back behind the pillar, shallow breaths rattling her chest, mind reeling at the strange scene before her.
What was happening?
She peeked out, watching with bated breath, as Bellatrix brushed a stray curl behind Hermione’s ear with surprising gentleness. “Shut up? Really? Now, that’s no way to greet a lady.”
“Why are you still in your uniform?” Ginny heard Hermione ask, her hands drifting appreciatively over Bellatrix’s Quidditch gear.
By this point, Ginny was convinced she had somehow stepped into an alternate reality. Hermione and Black? It couldn’t be real. It was impossible.
“Thought you’d appreciate the look.” Bellatrix said, a smug warmth in her tone that made Ginny’s stomach twist. She had to look away before she actually threw up.
It was unmistakable. But how? They were acting like… lovers? Merlin- Bellatrix bloody Black? Of all people?
Suddenly, everything fell into place. The silence. The hesitation. The embarrassment. The secrets. Ginny’s stomach churned as the horrifying thought struck her. Could Bellatrix Black actually be Hermione’s “True Lovers Kiss”?
Her world felt like it was turned upside down. She felt sick. She should have seen this coming. Should have intervened. Should have stopped it. And almost to reassure herself it wasn’t real, wasn’t too late, she peeked back at the two of them.
“...You almost blew your cover.” Hermione murmured, pulling Bellatrix closer by her robes and into a soft, slow kiss.
Bellatrix’s hand curled possessively at Hermione’s waist, tugging her just slightly closer, a teasing glint in her eye, while Hermione’s fingers tangled in Bellatrix’s hair as if she had been waiting all day for her touch.
Ginny let out a tiny squeak, slapping a hand over her mouth and pressing herself back behind the pillar. Heart racing, she stared at the wall opposite her in disbelief.
She didn’t know whether she was angry, betrayed or just utterly blindsided. But one thing was certain. Hermione was not escaping this conversation.
By the time Ginny returned to the Gryffindor Tower, her pulse was still pounding in her ears. Her mind was replaying every detail of the past few weeks. How could she have missed this?
Hermione would have some explaining to do once she returned to the dormitory and this time, excuses wouldn’t save her.