Bellamione - her beloved monster

33. How To Fail And Almost Die

"Sit down, sit down, forgive the mess."

Hermione, aka Bellatrix, dropped into one of the old armchairs and crossed her legs. She could hardly believe she was in her friend's body.

Again.

Only this time, she felt much more alive. Almost braver, starring in the face of the dark lord.

"So, Bellatrix, what brings you to me? After all, the next meeting isn't for another week."
Hermione bit her lip, "My lord, I have a matter on my mind."
The dark lord curled his lips, "On your mind? Then it must be something extremely important, Bella."

Bella.

Since when had he called her that?
Since when did her nickname leave his lips?

"My lord, it's about my father."
"I am aware of his situation."

"Yes, and you are aware that a welcome into your ranks is quite urgent -"

Now Lord Voldemort settled himself in one of the chairs and rubbed at his knuckles.

"You are an excellent witch, Bellatrix, and we will take care of it. You can be sure of that."
"Of course, Master. I'm just wondering when I'll finally get the honor of wearing your mark on my skin?"

She sat as the blood-red eyes sparkled.

The dark lord reached for a whiskey glass and took a hearty swig.

"Your ambition is unique, and a special member requires a special initiation ceremony. As a shadow whispered to me, you are about to celebrate your eighteenth birthday."
"Yes - yes, my lord!" Hermione brushed a pitch-black curl from her forehead.

She couldn't be exposed. To do so would put her life and Trix's at risk.

"How about your birthday?" The dark lord put down his drink and eyed his student.

"Um - that's not good. I mean, my entire family will be present, and it would be too dangerous for you -"
"I'm familiar with your celebrations and traditions, Bellatrix. By midnight most will probably have left, and we'll have some time for your special moment."

But before she could object, the man of a monster leaned over to her and whispered in her ear, "I heard about the basilisk. You did a good job, Bella."

Hermione swallowed: "I failed, my lord."

Now Voldemort leaned back and looked down at the young woman.

"No, you didn't. We did. It was an accident, an accident, and you didn't die. You're lucky how it turned out for you. Didn't my parsel words I taught you work?"

What? Taught? - Parsel words?
The witch's heart began to pound.

"Um - um no, my lord."

"Don't worry, someday you'll get your chance to wipe out all those filthy mudbloods. Someday you will shine, like my little jewel."
A laugh tugged at his lipless face.

And then the witch with the now thick curls felt sick.

She held her stomach.

"Forgive me, my lord, however, I am not feeling quiete well and should return to Hogwarts. My professors are probably already wondering where I am." She rose and smoothed her robes with her hands.