𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 || 𝐇.𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hermione felt bold that day.

After a week of gathering up her courage and looking for the right time, she had finally spoken with Lestrange in the library. And it had gone well, Lestrange had managed a few smiles at her.

And Hermione was just so caught up in excitement that she just had to touch Lestrange's shoulder. She only realized that she did it when she was out of the library.

Well, too late to change things.

She hoped that Lestrange wouldn't be too furious, and she hoped that the Slytherin would forget it ever happened.

Ugh, the more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she got.

Now Hermione didn't even know how she was going to face Lestrange. Would Lestrange laugh at her the next time they saw each other? Or would she jinx her?

You're overthinking, everything will be fine.

That's what she told herself, but obviously she wasn't calming down.

Stop worrying, you have exams, O.W.Ls coming up. This isn't the time to be worrying about Lestrange or how she's feeling right now. You need to focus your time and energy making sure you and your friends get good marks.

Right, that was what she was supposed to be focused on.

So, instead of going to the library, Hermione stayed in her dorm room. She knew it was inconvenient, but if she went to the library then she might see Lestrange and get distracted all over again. She couldn't allow that to happen.

And plus, her roommates were studying at the library anyways, so she was alone.

So she began her study and review.

However, while reciting the steps of turning into an Animigus was interesting, it wasn't as fun as that day, smiling next to Lestrange.

---

    Bellatrix Lestrange sat on the chair, resting her elbows on the table, hands covering her face. This was her thinking position, and while it looked highly unprofessional, it was the only way she could get any real thinking done.

    She had already met with the Dark Lord already, and found herself interested as he described of what he thought of her daughter. The Dark Lord didn't say anything disappointing, but the fact that he didn't say anything extraordinary disappointed her as well.

   There was something wrong--she could practically feel it. Maybe it was her maternal instinct, or maybe she was just that good at reading Eleanor, but she didn't exactly like what she was feeling about her.

    When Bellatrix had met Draco, she could tell that he was Lucius' junior, just like his father in every shape and form. She could tell that Draco was the type of person to jinx a mudblood for them simply existing, rightfully so.

      While Bellatrix did sense some power in Eleanor, she didn't sense a wild desire to use it, unlike her cousin. That is what concerned her.

    At first, she thought the worst. But after speaking with Cissy she learned that her daughter was practically Slytherin royalty, someone who had earned the respect of her housemates. Even Snape, someone Bellatrix disliked, as she didn't see him as loyal enough, spoke of her with a hint of admiration.

    Cissy had told Bellatrix that she worried too much, and that she had released her little girl perfectly.

    And Bellatrix wished for that feeling to wander away. Because she wanted to believe her sister's words.