One last vial. Only one. All day she had been reliving her time with Bellatrix through the other woman's eyes. These vials were a safe path backwards. She adored them. And she cherished them. Hermione held the last vial in her hand, watching its silvery contents swirl back and forth with the gentle movements of her body. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. One last vial. She had kept it for last. All the other memories that Bellatrix had saved would seem insignificant to this one, this last one. The young girl's heart had sunk when she had read its label hours ago. Not through any unbearable weight of sorrow, but simply because of the significant and heavy reality that were her feelings for the dark witch. She never would have thought of Bellatrix as sentimental. She would not have ever expected such a collection of memories to exist anywhere but outside her mind, and even then Hermione had doubted whether she recalled them at all. But here, resting gently in her palm, was proof against all that she had previously thought. In the weeks and months and years to come Hermione knew without a doubt that she would revisit the memories in these vials countless times, like reading a love letter over and over until it became soft and pliable as fabric. But the memories themselves would never tarnish. They would stay as they are now, as brilliant as gold, endlessly. Hermione had one more memory left. One more dip into the Pensieve. One last vial.

It was surreal to see herself from the dark witch's perspective. It was surreal to sit inside her head and watch and listen and feel. Bellatrix always had such an impenetrable wall around her. Hermione never knew what she was thinking. It was remarkable to experience, then, all their moments together from the other perspective. These vials, these memories, were an endless sequence of revelations. And they made her miss the woman terribly. She was so sure now of how Bellatrix felt. She was so sure now of everything. It was agony. It had been years since she'd seen the woman. Years since her fingers had entwined with hers. Every now and again a delicate whisper of scent would come to her that reminded her so strongly of the dark witch that it brought memories of all their meetings flooding back to her. As vividly as was contained in these vials.

It felt as if, now looking back at her past with the woman, that somewhere unseen she had made a terrible mistake. Like she had taken a wrong turn along the way and now had to watch all her alternative lives sweep off into the all-too-prosperous distance. There was no way to get back there now, and she had to face all this life alone. Without Bellatrix. The notorious sadist and Death Eater who had taught her so much. Who had given her so much. It felt all wrong. It felt like a cruel joke. It felt hopeless.

With her legs folded uncomfortably beneath her Hermione sat on the hard stone floor. She held the vial in her hand and let her eyes fall over the Bellatrix carved into her arm. It had been with her for so long now that she couldn't imagine being without it. It had become a part of her as much as her freckles or the colour of her eyes. Bellatrix was always with her now. On her skin. In her mind. At night was when the witch was closest to her. After the sun had set it seemed like no time had passed between the last moment gone, and the last moment she was with Bellatrix. She dreaded these hours that might bring the witch close to her. Her heart was raw in these hours.

Hermione holds the glass vial close to her chest and closes her eyes. Feeling the cold touch of the thing press lightly against her skin.

Hermione was aware of herself. Which was unusual for these memories. She was overcome still with a feeling of preciousness, which had not subsided when she'd immersed herself into the silvery liquid. It was as if the beginning of this memory were not fully formed, perhaps Bellatrix had forgotten, or simply not remembered, what happened first. Hermione recognised the lavish interior around them as the Lestrange Manor. It was different to the Malfoy's. Less spacious, but somehow even more decadent than the ornate fittings encrusted to every surface there.

Stalking through the house quietly, with intimate knowledge of which floorboard would set of a creak or a groan, the dark witch advanced through several open doorways. Ascending the disused stairway towards her own bedroom she allowed her footfall to sound throughout the hall. A gentle way of letting her company know that she was on her way to the door. Pushing aside the enormous slab of polished, dark oak beams of milky light poured into the hallway. As Bellatrix crosses the threshold she sees Hermione standing at an open window on the far side of the room. In any other situation the dark witch would have hexed and cursed and beaten an intruder into the ground, she would have brimmed and spilled over with rage. But in this situation she felt nothing of the gnawing ache of rage. And as tears roll down Hermione's cheeks as she walks over to the woman Bellatrix feels a twinge in her stomach, and in her fingers, that could only be described as totally the opposite of rage.

Hermione throws her arms around Bellatrix's shoulders, holding the woman close to her. It's a desperate sort of action, wanting to extinguish the loneliness she'd felt seconds before cradling herself by the window. Bellatrix wraps her arms around the girl's waist and feels the quick breath come in and out of her. The dark witch closes her eyes and revels in the sensation, unsure of when she might get the chance to embrace the girl so freely again.

Sobs wrack through the younger girl, Bellatrix can feel them against her body. "You cant. You can't. You can't."

"I have to. You know I have to." It was an inevitability that left a bitter sorrow in either woman's mouth. It was useless to fight, they both knew the world was unchangeable.

Pulling back from their embrace to look Hermione in the face Bellatrix can see the unchangeable inevitable inscribed in the girl's face. Their love of magic had brought them so unbearably close together that their parting was like losing a limb. Bellatrix had grown so fond of the girl. She had become so proud of her. She was so much stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for, and she had ultimately redeemed herself. Exalted herself. The younger witch, and her capabilities, had become so inexpressibly sublime to Bellatrix. And for all her life, the dark witch thought, no one had understood her quite like this girl. It should have crushed her that for so long there was not a single soul by whom she felt understood, but to have a simple and impossibly strong connection with Hermione now made her… happy. It was remarkable that after so many years withering in Akzaban she could use that word to describe herself now. She was happy.

"It could never have lasted, pet."

Hermione's eyes are red with sorrow and her began to tremble as if she were about to burst into tears. The girl covers her own mouth with her hand to hide the sobs as they come. She reaches out tenderly into the space between them and places her free hand on Bellatrix's cheek.

"But I love you." The dark witch could hear the ache in the girl's voice, as if in some naïve world she had been told that love conquered all, and as long as you loved someone everything would work out alright. Hermione was looking life in the face at last, and didn't like what she saw. "I wouldn't have done this for anyone but you." The dark witch hears the anger rise in the young woman's voice, as if she had a tremendously bitter taste in her mouth.

Bellatrix simply stares at Hermione for a moment. Immobilised by her confession. She felt great and unshakable tethers around heart flex and crush the scarred muscle, as if the two were bound together. She was overcome then with a sense of belonging. Terrible, terrible belonging.

Slowly she snakes her arms around the girl's waist and pulls her in close. As close as her arms allow her to, without hurting the shaking creature.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." At the utterance it was as if the gnarled and battered gates of Bellatrix's heart were at once thrown open. As if some great force had pushed its way against her body and out the other side and now felt open air on her bared interior. All of this had started because Bellatrix couldn't stand the thought of a Muggle-born being capable with magic. She never could have predicted how much Hermione would mean to her, here now at the end.

Bellatrix draws back from the witch, and covers her face with her hands. Trying, in a way, to push and force her emotions back into place. As if some joint was out of place. When she opens her eyes again Hermione is looking at her as if she were bleeding to death right there. Her eyes are glistening and full of tears.

"It has to end." Bellatrix says quietly.

"But you haven't taught me everything yet." Hermione was trying her best to form a logical argument that the dark witch couldn't contest with. She was used, of course, to having the answers to everything, or at least within reach. "I can't learn what you know from books. I can't."

"You don't want to learn everything I know." The dark witch spoke frankly, trying desperately to push herself back into her usual unreachable composure. She wanted to put a barrier between them again. To separate Hermione's heart from her own. It was all she could think to do.

"Don't tell me what I want."

"You don't-… you don't want that." Bellatrix brushes the remark off as if it were nothing, to try and show Hermione that she shouldn't care. That she shouldn't want to be close to the notorious witch. Bellatrix could practically feel the girl's desperate pleas to keep her close.

The dark witch feels her heart pounding in her chest. In that moment she doubted her own strength. Unsure if she would simply collapse in on herself rather than facing life without this wonderful creature near her. Looking at the witch in front of her Bellatrix knew that in this moment Hermione was infinitely stronger than she was.

The dark witch steps away from the girl and walks to her bed, throwing herself down on the covers. She lifts her arms up and covers her eyes, hiding from this situation that made her feel like she might burst into whirl of cinders. Somewhere by her feet Bellatrix feels Hermione's weight settle on the bed. It pauses there for a moment before moving closer towards her. A gentle falling of curls meet the exposed skin of the woman's chest, followed by the all too familiar weight of Hermione's head. As if instinctively Bellatrix's arms come down and hold the warm body as close to hers as possible.

The gentle rise and fall of her own breathing soothes the body that's pressed against her side. The dark witch feels slender fingers snake around her waist and bury themselves at her back. In this precise moment all that really mattered, or all that Bellatrix wanted to matter, was her and this glorious creature hovering weightlessly above the surface of the earth. Nothing was real here, while everything outside the window, which Bellatrix's eyes lazily scanned, was painfully real. Allegiances. Wars. The dark witch imagined them somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Some imaginary realm where their pasts didn't matter and all that mattered was that their bodies fit perfectly together when they lay like this. Hermione begins to nuzzle Bellatrix's neck softly, bringing the dark witch's thoughts back into the room. She drags her nails along Hermione's forearm, from the crest of her elbow to the tips of her middle finger. Over and over again to commit the limb to memory.

Tenderly, slowly, and softly Hermione's lips parted and were pressed against the hot skin of Bellatrix's neck. The rhythm of it was so different to that first time they had kissed. Then it had been consuming and fast and desperate, but now it was desperate for another reason. And as if she were a precious and valuable commodity Hermione Granger kissed Bellatrix Lestrange's neck so slowly she feared she might implode from the bolts of electricity coming from the girl's mouth.

"I'm so happy you chose me." The hot and unexpected words were whispered against her neck.

"I didn't chose you. You looked at me in the Ministry like an insolent child. I thought I should put you in your place." She speaks frankly, thinking back to the young girl she had seen in that moment.

At her neck she hears Hermione scoff, "And where is my place?"

"With me and my charming personality." Bellatrix could feel the girl snicker at her neck.

The dark witch reaches down blindly for Hermione's arm, wrapping her long fingers around it and bringing it close to her face. She presses her full lips against the sensitive flesh, feeling under her lips the raised and healing wound she had left on the girl.

"Everyone says I'm mad for keeping it there."

"You are."

She feels Hermione smile against her neck. Bellatrix's fingers are toying with her golden hair in long and lazy strokes. She moves her hand down and entwines her fingers with the young woman's, who squeezes her hand.

"Come here and let me kiss you." She says plainly.

She feels the weight at her side shift. Hermione props herself up on her elbow and simply looks at the dark witch beneath her for a time, seeming to take in every detail of her face. Slowly she leans in and Bellatrix feels the muscles across her chest tighten as she reflexively moves her hand to Hermione's shoulder. The girl stops only a few centimetres short of meeting Bellatrix's lips, who holds motionless above her. The dark witch moves her hand to behind Hermione's head. She knows that she's being tested. Being teased. Bellatrix uses her strength to pull the girl's mouth down to meet hers. The woman parts her lips and moves her mouth slowly against Hermione's, making it agonising for the other witch to resist. Bellatrix flattens her tongue and runs it over the girl's top lip, and noises of pleasure slip from her. She rakes her teeth over Hermione's bottom lip, tugging the flesh into her mouth as she feels a sharp intake of breath at the sensation. Slowly the dark witch continues to kiss the girl, using her tongue and teeth to great effect, amidst the warmth and depth of the kiss.

Slowly, warmly, deeply Hermione beings to return the dark witch's kiss. The sensation sent shimmers of pleasure through her entire body. This girl made her feel luminous and glorious like a Patronus. Bellatrix moves her hand from Hermione's shoulder to the crest of her hip. Her long and dextrous fingers slipped easily under the girl's shirt. She had such warm, soft skin. As some kind of flower, with her hand under Hermione's shirt, the dark witch feels their kiss become deeper. Their breaths and tongues mingling during the action. Moving her hand further up Bellatrix can feel the swell of Hermione's chest as she pants from their kiss. Beneath the skin and bones the dark witch can feel her heart racing. She pulls the girl even closer to her, overcome with a desire to bring her impossibly near, while she slides her hand further up, towards her breasts. Hermione is moving against her now, pressing her hips hard against Bellatrix. The dark witch's breath comes in ragged bursts, while her breath comes trembling in and out of her lungs. Like a great tangle of serpents inside of her. The pads of her fingers come in contact with the soft give of Hermione's breath and the girl moans into her mouth, pressing more of their bodies into contact. Bellatrix toys with the flesh there. Teasing her. Always teasing. Hermione is kissing her hard, crushing their lips together. None of it would ever be enough. They could never be close enough to each other. It would never last long enough. Their desperate cups would never be filled.

When Bellatrix comes she tells Hermione that she loves her. She lies still, trembling from her core with Hermione's hot skin pressed against her. The dark witch gently runs her fingers through the girl's hair once more. The younger witch kisses her lightly wherever she wants. Her face. Her neck. Her chest. Anywhere. Their bodies belonged to each other.

"Did you mean it?" Hermione asks quietly.

"More than anything." Bellatrix's love for the girl was her undoing. It was heart-breaking and heart-mending all at once. It was marvellous and terrifying all at once. It was everything.

"I love you."

Bellatrix Lestrange was her undoing. She could never love anyone the way they loved each other. Not ever again. What could anyone offer her that could come close to the incredible majesty of a creature like Bellatrix. These vials and their memories would be her love now, and she knew nobody could ever possibly understand that.

It was over now. Letting out a deep sigh Hermione retrieves the box the vials were delivered in. It was ornate and heavy, the inside lined with a superb blue silk and trimmed with silver thread. It looked as if the ocean were contained in an old wooden box. Gently Hermione lifts the trembling rack of vials back into their box and deftly closes the lid. They were hers now. They were safe now. Her eyes fell again over the lid of the box, a yellowing piece of parchment was stuck to it. She had seen it when, with a pop, a house elf she had not seen before delivered it to her. It read:

Hermione Granger

c/o the deceased estate

Bellatrix Lestrange

Her heart had sunk like a great stone when she had seen it first, but with these vials now it was not all lost to time. Bellatrix still carried on, in a way, like this. Hermione noticed the lifting corner of the parchment and lifted it gently. She was not so concerned with keeping this particular message in good condition, it would do nothing but hurt her each time she returned to this oaken box. From beneath the parchment a second slip of paper fell and landed on the floor beside her. Slowly she stoops down and delicately lifts it off the stone.

Hermione turns the paper over to see an image of her and Bellatrix in the Lestrange Manor gardens. Bellatrix is kissing her on the cheek with her wild hair blowing in the wind. Hermione is smiling with her arms around the woman, looking somewhere off into the distance. The two figures stay like this. Together.

Hermione smiles quietly to herself.