Chapter 61

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Voldemort might be expecting plenty of things here in the bowels of Gringotts, but being tackled by his right-hand witch isn't one of them. Only quick spellwork on the part of the Dark Lord prevents her from sending them both off the rock ledge with her momentum.

While Voldemort is busy not falling to his death, Bellatrix is yanking at his robes - up, down, off. Wherever she can move them, or maybe just try and get beneath them. She's not particular. The look on her face is half-crazed. Desperate, agonised. Voldemort tries to bat her hands away but only has one hand with which to do this. The other is performing critical life-saving spellwork.

Draco just gawps, stunned. He'd known the crazy old bat had the hots for the Dark Lord, but this? Even with amortentia encouraging her, it's completely, obscenely absurd. He's not the only one staring. Hermione's now standing at his right shoulder, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I thought it had a chance... but I never expected - but they say it gets stronger," she whispers disjointedly, wide-eyed.

"What?"

"Slughorn. He said it gets stronger the longer it's kept. You've had it for almost a year. I wasn't sure I had the incantation right, but..."

She did. Draco wouldn't have doubted it. Others are beginning to stare, too, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Lupin and Bill exchange a glance and split up.

"Figures," scoffs someone from the shadows. Draco thinks it might be Crabbe Sr. "Just a slag underneath, like all the rest."

A one-two hit from their platform disarms Crabbe Sr and blasts him backwards, off his ledge. He falls, screaming, and the others realise they've been standing still too long.

Draco moves Hermione closer to the dragon, too riveted by the scene to begin a different duel. His previous target is occupied and he doesn't plan to miss a second of it. With a start, he realises his aunt's shadow has vanished. Maybe she couldn't maintain it with the amortentia's single-minded intent. It's the only guess he has and he casts furtive glances around to make sure he's not missing it somewhere sneaky.

"How did you know she'd go wild?"

He knew, of course. While he hadn't spent loads of time at the manor with both his aunt and the Dark Lord at once, it had always seemed obvious to him that Bellatrix's fixation on him wasn't mere adoration. But Hermione had never seen them together.

"Well, I wasn't sure... but her particular brand of crazy seemed well-suited to it," Hermione murmurs, eyes locked on the scrum. "And after all, she didn't have to have prior feelings of... whatever. It would work either way. But I bet it's stronger because she did."

Draco recalls the way his aunt had appeared to fight it, swaying on her feet. He hadn't known what to make of it at the time, but he's sure she'd been attempting to resist the overwhelming urge to... fondle Voldemort in public.

She's making a good effort, though Draco would have expected nothing less. The pair are practically wrestling in midair. The Dark Lord has decided not to put them back on the ground, which was probably wise given the treacherous footing. With his spare hand, he's pushing her away by the face and while he can't be sure, Draco thinks Bellatrix is adapting to try and get his fingers inside her mouth.

This is going to turn his stomach but he can't look away.

In their thrashing, she knees him somewhere vital and Draco's mouth drops. He'd have given 50/50 odds on the Dark Lord having anything down there to brutalise, but he howls in pain. His obvious fury cuts through Bellatrix's amortentia haze and she falls at his feet, pleading and wailing.

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