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For months the Weasleys had been asking Hermione who she was secretly dating, Molly in particular. Over and over, she insisted there was no one, she was happily single, but they wouldn’t believe her.
Of course, it hadn’t helped when she’d forgotten to cover up a love bite on her neck when she came to visit baby James, or when a mysterious black owl had tapped on her window, carrying a bunch of forget me nots and a letter, while Ginny was having coffee with her. Of course, she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, so the whole family had known about it by the next time she visited the burrow.
The worst offence was when Ginny had used the bathroom in Hermione’s flat and spotted two toothbrushes by the sink. She’d questioned Hermione immediately, and, ever mature, Hermione had simply darted into her bedroom, locking the door, and waiting for Ginny to disappear.
That had caused Molly to sit her down at the kitchen table for a good talking to.
‘Come on sweetheart, he can’t be that bad. You can tell us.’ She assured her.
Hermione knew that denying it all was futile, the evidence was there. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it, so she maintained that she’d simply forgotten to throw out her old toothbrush after buying a new one. There was no one in her life.
Molly frowned. She’d been a little sad when the relationship with Ron hadn’t lasted, but she’d gotten over it, provided that Hermione promised not to avoid the family. And in her opinion, right now, Hermione was doing worse by not letting them meet her new man.
She scolded her playfully, reminding her that whoever it was, he was welcome at the burrow, and she and Arthur would be on their best behaviour, they promised.
They’d never pressure her, Hermione knew, Molly was just … enthusiastic about love and marriage and babies, and who could blame her? She’d had so many children to worry over, and now she wanted to see them happy, and if she was lucky, get a whole new generation of little ones to dote on.
The only problem was, Hermione’s relationship was a little more complicated than that.
Eventually, George had enough, and told Hermione to just bring the fella to Friday night dinner, before she was banned. Of course, Molly assured her that she’d always be welcome, but she did agree that it was about time she let them meet the lucky man.
She did her very best to get out of it. She didn’t want to be a bother; it would mean another seat at the table, another mouth to feed, to which Molly was greatly offended. The more the merrier, she always insisted - they had enough to feed six Weasley men every week, and that was a feat in itself.
So that was that, she’d have to invite her.
It wasn’t like they had reason to hate Bellatrix, she’d reformed years ago.
Getting thrown into Azkaban for him had seemed like an honour at first, but when months passed with no attempt to break her out, too set on his own goals, Bellatrix had lost faith in the cause. What good was it to fight for a half-blood that didn’t even respect his betters by keeping them from incarceration?
14 years in, her bitterness towards him had increased, and she had renounced the beliefs he enforced. When a clerical error set her free early (the Prophet had dubbed it an escape, sensationalist pricks), she sought to rehabilitate herself - the ultimate fuck you to the man who caused her to end up there in the first place.
The healers encouraged her to divorce - Rodolphus still believed, and her efforts to persuade him were in vain - so she did. Unfortunately for her, in a choice that she’d learned in therapy to admit was not her best, one last shag to commemorate the divorce left her a single mother - not her finest hour, but Delphi was a welcome distraction.
Maybe without her, she’d have fought for the other side, made up for her past, but she couldn’t take the risk. Instead she stayed away from the war, locked away in the Malfoy guest room, learning how to be a mother, hiding from her old friends, from him.
Only her sister had known they were there. She played the role well, of the pureblood wife, but seeing Bellatrix so broken from Azkaban and so changed, she too fell from the cause.
When Hermione visited the manor to interview the Malfoys for their pardons, she’d bumped into a dishevelled looking Bellatrix, and was immediately smitten.
They’d talked for hours - Narcissa kept Delphi entertained - and it wasn’t long before they were going on weekly dates. It remained their little secret, of course, with only the Malfoys and Andromeda aware of their romance.
A few months in, Bellatrix had introduced Hermione to Delphi, and the toddler had taken to her instantly. She adored Mione, some days more than her mother, Bellatrix suspected. She loved staying with Aunt Cissa when mummy went out on dates with Mione, but she loved being included even more.
Bellatrix had stayed over at Hermione’s flat countless times, and the first time she’d invited Delphi for a sleepover, Bellatrix had almost said no, almost darted from the room - it felt so soon. But they’d had a ball, letting Delphi stay up far past her bedtime, eating muggle sweets and introducing her to television, and Hermione had almost considered asking them to move in that very night. It was too soon, though.
Still, Delphi ended up with her own bedroom (which doubled as Hermione’s library), and slowly, more of Bellatrix’s clothes seemed to end up in Hermione’s drawers, more of her books and lotions cluttered the flat.
Now, almost a year since they first met, here they were, in their bedroom (though officially, it was still Hermione’s flat) putting the finishing touches on their appearances.
As Bellatrix expertly laced up her corset, tightening it around her already small waist, Hermione sat in front of the mirror applying a tinted lip balm.
‘What if they hate me?’ Hermione sighed, snapping both of them from their thoughts.
Bellatrx looked over and caught her worried expression. She stood behind Hermione, wrapping her arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck.
‘Then they don’t deserve you.’ She answered. Straight to the point, as usual.
‘You’re feeling rather confident about the whole thing.’ Hermione noted. It was true; she’d expected Bellatrix to be at least a little worried about their announcement.
Bellatrix shrugged. ‘If they hate me, they hate me.’
Hermione furrowed her brows.
‘I know I fucked up, not everyone wants to forgive me. But they forgave Draco, and he did far worse than I ever did.’
It was true, Draco had done terrible things, and it was probably thanks to Hermione’s pardon that he was forgiven. She hadn’t given Bellatrix one, because she didn’t need one, but hopefully their love for one another would be enough to persuade them.
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Hermione lay her head on Bellatrix’s. They stayed there for a moment, still, silent, enjoying their last moments of secrecy. Soon everyone would know about them. Hermione only hoped they approved.
‘Besides,’ Bellatrix smiled, ‘I don’t need anyone but you and Delphi.’
Hermione pulled out of her embrace to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. With her nerves calmed, she had more important things to worry about.
‘Did she go to Cissa’s okay?’
‘Oh, she was fine. I sent her with that recorder you gave her and told her Uncle Lucius would love to hear her new songs.’ Bellatrix laughed.