Black's House for Little Witches

2

A/N: The next chapter I have prewritten. 

Warning for: references of torture. 

There's a tinge of what can be construed as forced ageplay elements, but within this AU, it's technically a norm in wizarding society. 

French translations, courtesy of Google translate: Soeur - sister, Petit agneau - little lamb

If you see this, I hope you enjoy. :)

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Bellatrix Black was an intimidating woman. She radiated power underneath a beautiful, indifferent expression and striking gray eyes with the slightest tinge of violet. She held herself with a regal grace Hermione couldn't ever imagine possessing. Her hair, while curly like the girl's own, was wild and unruly while simultaneously being perfectly styled. It was a feat Hermione was incredibly envious of.

After introductions had been made, in which the woman insisted on being addressed as Madam Black, Hermione followed her to Headmistress McGonagall's office. She'd been able to argue her way out of being escorted home to talk to her parents by saying she was eighteen, above the age of majority, and technically no longer required her parents' consent for anything. The headmistress had relented but insisted Hermione send a letter home explaining things.

Hermione felt slightly bad about omitting some truths in her letter, but there was no way she was ever going to tell her parents about the utterly ridiculous classification system of the wizarding world. Instead, she wrote that the exams had been much more rigorous than she'd been prepared for, and the Ministry had offered her an extra year of study in order to retake the tests she'd underperformed in (leaving out the minor detail that it was nearly all of her exams). She also said that she would be housing outside of Hogwarts, and she would write again when things were sorted out.

Hermione stumbled out of the Floo and was caught by Madam Black before she hit the floor face first.

"Has no one taught you how to use the Floo properly?"

"N-no? I don't, I don't use the Floo often," Hermione stuttered.

"It's one of the most convenient ways to travel." The older woman shook her head. "We'll work on it. Come, it's almost time for lunch. Mipsy and the staff have taken care of your things."

"Mipsy? The staff?"

"Our house elves," Madam Black responded. Before Hermione could say anything, she spoke again, much more firm than before. "They are not enslaved, and they are not treated poorly. I've heard about your little campaign, Miss Granger." She fixed the girl with a stern glare. "There will be no attempts to free my elves. There is much you do not understand, and I will blame the Weasleys for that. But that means that there is much I have to correct."

Hermione didn't get the chance to reply because footsteps thundered down the hallway outside the room. The door to the receiving room burst open, and a girl about Hermione's age excitedly squealed, "Bella!" and threw herself on the older woman.

Madam Black chuckled softly. "Bonjour, petit agneau," she greeted, surprising Hermione with her fluidity in French. "Did you and Soeur have a good morning?"

The girl pulled back, and Hermione managed to suppress her gasp of shock at the scarring that adorned the left side of the girl's face and neck. A long, jagged and pink scar ran from the girl's jaw line to her neck, and disappeared under her shirt at her collarbone. She was dressed in soft looking shorts and a t-shirt, much simpler compared to the dress shirt and slacks Madam Black wore.