Dark Desires

Chapter 10

A/N: This chapter turned out quite long, but hope you enjoy, and if you do: vote and comment! <3

Hermione debated whether or not to join the former death eater at the balcony. Maybe she'd do best in returning to her makeshift bed instead? She was about to tiptoe back inside, when Bellatrix spoke, seemingly out into the darkness.

"Sit, for Merlin's sake", she began as Hermione froze in her tracks, "now that I'm stuck here anyway, we can't avoid each other forever, can we?" So Hermione made her way to the unoccupied chair, tugging her duvet close, the blood pumping quickly in her veins.

They sat in silence for a while, both witches too occupied with their own minds to converse. Hermione was the first to return to reality. She couldn't bear to think anymore of her friends. Tomorrow she would write a letter, but for now she'd let it rest. Instead, she studied the former death eater in front of her. The dark eyes were scanning the area above them, examining different stars it seemed. Yet her mind was a million miles away. There was something peaceful over her face now, something one rarely saw, and Hermione could not help but appreciate the utter beauty of her travel companion. Bellatrix's lips were slightly parted, her eyes glazed over and red, as though she'd been crying (at this, something in Hermione stung). Long, pale legs were positioned over the armrest away from Hermione, black curls fell unruly down her spine. She was only wearing a sheer, black undergarment - the one she always wore underneath her corseted dresses - but Bellatrix possessed a confidence few could match; she did not care to cover her assets. Hermione wanted to punch herself for noticing these details, for they were details that dragged her closer to the other witch, nearer to the dark abyss. There was indeed something ethereal about her whole figure, Hermione thought.

"Why are you staring, Muddy?"
There was something ethereal over her silent figure, Hermione corrected herself. She bit back the temptation of answering her with the truth: Because you're beautiful.
It was cliché, and therefore remained an unsaid sentence, and would remain so for a long time.
Instead, she cowered in her presence.

"Sorry", she said quietly and averted her gaze.  The silence settled over the pair once more as Hermione's eyes darted over the garden and came to a halt at the pond nearly hidden behind some trees and rose bushes. The pond itself stirred a sensation in her, though she couldn't put her finger on what. Of course, after she'd heard the story of the house, the pond had always drawn her to its depths.

"Will you tell me?" asked Bellatrix in a voice so unfamiliar that Hermione almost jumped. "About the family", she added in that same distant, almost inaudible voice. A warmth spread through Hermione's body when she realised that Bellatrix actually, maybe for the first time in her life, showed an interest in something other than herself. The youngest witch leaned back in the chair triumphantly, closed her eyes for a second, breathed and then began.

"Angela Bellini was a beautiful merchant's daughter from Venice. She was arranged to be married to Luigi Amoretto, only son of the wealthy Amoretto's, at the age of 18. She had dreaded her birthday, and the day they would take her away, for years. Luigi was 24 and thought she was the most gorgeous woman in all of Italy, yet she didn't share his enthusiasm for the wedding.

After the marriage, Luigi brought her to this villa, built especially for the two. The Amoretto family owned this whole district back then, along with several magnificent castles outskirts. By the time she was 22, Angela was pregnant with a boy, but unfortunately miscarried. They tried for several years after that, every time ending in a miscarriage. Soon depression overtook her and she came to think she was worthless as a woman.

The couple attended prestigious balls held by the Amoretto's every week, Angela's depression always looming in the background. They seemed like a couple in love, though in reality it was one sided. Angela felt repressed in their marriage, in this house and in her own life.

Our heroine had turned 28 when Luigi's estranged sister, Beatrice, returned to Italy. She had abandoned the family many years ago to live in France with a man from a lowly household, but now that he was dead, she came back. Angela met her at the celebration of her own wedding anniversary (10 stifling years of her marriage celebrated). It is said that as soon as the two laid eyes on each other, they fell in love." Hermione made a pause to glance at the pureblood. She was leaning back in the chair, her eyes closed, listening attentively with knitted eyebrows. So Hermione continued in a softer voice.

"No one in the family knew much about their affair, and Luigi knew less than anyone. All we know today comes from the letters they sent each other. They had a passionate relationship that lasted for more than a decade. They confided in each other through the letters, and made love in secrecy. Their first kiss happened right by that pond, the day of the anniversary." Hermione quieted down, staring at the pond with a sad expression. She could see a myriad of fireflies just above the surface of the shiny waters. She wondered if there had been fireflies that night when Beatrice kissed Angela.

"What happened to them?" Bellatrix was now leaning her arms on the railing, staring at the pond, mirroring Hermione. Her voice was hopeful. She seemed enticed by the story, by these women from the Renaissance who lived many centuries before her, yet somehow she could relate to.

"She committed suicide. Filled the pockets in her dress with rocks and drowned herself in that same pond. The voices of self-hatred became too much for her. Beatrice was left broken-hearted", said Hermione quietly, "I don't know what became of her."

Bellatrix grew silent. Her expression was soft, and for a moment, Hermione thought her eyes glittered with water. But then, suddenly and out of nowhere, her whole posture changed. She started staring intensely at the pond, her eyes turning venomous and mad. When she finally spoke, her words were laced with disbelief and hatred.
"That's ridiculous. People don't love like that."

"How do they love then?" challenged Hermione. She watched her carefully, stunned by this sudden change in behaviour.

"They control you, reward you for your successes and punish you for your failures. Like he did me. That is love. Not this stupid fantasy." Her eyes gleamed with madness and obsession. Gone was the woman who had listened so intently, who had understood and appreciated the story about Angela and Beatrice and perhaps even liked it. For Hermione truly believed that she'd seen intrigue in her face, merely minutes ago.

"That's not love. Voldemort did not love you; he abused you, don't you understand?" Hermione said in disbelief. She was shocked, hopelessly trying to understand how this tortured woman in front of her couldn't fathom the difference between love and abusive power.

"He did love me!" Bellatrix shrieked, but quickly took hold of herself and continued with poison lacing each word, "but of course, you don't understand. Filthy mudbloods seldom find people who love them."

And so the raven haired monster walked off, slamming the door behind her just as the first tear started to roll down the mudblood's cheek.