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There was something about Molly Weasley that most people didn’t know.
Even as the epic events of the still fairly recent Wizarding War were beginning to fill contemporary history monographs, one little fact had escaped most of their authors:
Molly Weasley had destroyed a horcrux when she killed Bellatrix Black Lestrange.
Bellatrix had been the eighth, eight for infinity, for unending loyalty. The Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Molly didn’t like to brag about her deed, but every now and then during her knitting, she allowed herself a smug little smile.
The days were leading up to Christmas again.
Her sons would be home, and so would her daughter and Harry of course, and they would bring Hermione and Hermione would bring - her.
Unfortunately for Molly, not all the vermin she killed with the miraculous help of Gilderoy Lockhart’s handbooks truly stayed dead.
"You don’t have to go if you don’t want to", Hermione said for the 100th time, burrowing deeper into Bella’s side.
"I know", Bellatrix sighed. She looked down at Hermione in her arm, who was looking up at her with big puppy eyes.
She sighed again.
She felt different than she had before.
She had been free of Voldemort’s soul for one and a half years now. She had become a horcrux shortly after joining the death eaters, more than 20 years ago...
Over two decades of her life, lost to the service of one, committing the darkest and most devious of crimes. Enjoying them, with every fiber of their shared, twisted soul.
Even if she was possessed, there was no excuse. It had still been her hand that held the wand which cast the killing spell each time.
And she still looked the same as she did back then. Tall, dark, intimidating, raven curls falling to her waist, a mad glint in her eyes from time to time. A goblet of red wine frequently held in her hand that stained her lips like blood. And yet Hermione had somehow fallen for it. For all of it. The incredible skill, the pale skin, the easy confidence. The downright sadistic, predatory, teasing side that still surfaced in bed sometimes.
But especially, Hermione had fallen for moments like these, when she was lying in Bella’s arm. This new, magical, utterly simple contentment.
Wordlessly, Hermione looked up at Bellatrix until Bella bent down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Hermione reached up and ran her hands through Bella’s hair, through those long, luscious, obsidian strands. Against all rhyme and reason, she felt perfectly safe. There were no death eaters in this bed in her mind. Only a once brilliant student and the woman she loved.
When they broke apart, Bellatrix said, "I’ll go with you if it makes you happy."
Hermione beamed at her.
When Molly Weasley received the news that her least favourite person on earth was going to spend Christmas with her and her family, she looked about ready to take someone’s eye out with her knitting needles. Most likely that of Bellatrix Lestrange. Since Arthur Weasley didn’t think another duel between his wife and the former death eater was the best idea (especially at the Burrow, on Christmas), he tried his best to calm her down.
"They’ll only stay on until after dinner", he reassured her. "That’s less than a day, and then they’ll be out of our way again for another year".
Molly did not look appeased in the least, and so Arthur quickly swung his wand to summon a shot of firewhiskey from the kitchen. He handed the glass to his wife, who downed it in one go.
"Ready?", Hermione asked nervously, when they arrived in front of the Burrow on a late Christmas morning.
They were heaped with gifts for everyone, trying to make up for the fact that Hermione was bringing along a former enemy with the sheer mass of them. Hermione was wearing a festive red sweater, hopping from one foot onto the other, as Bella remained cool and calm in a long black coat that made her look criminally attractive. Her slender fingers intertwined themselves with Hermione’s as she replied, "ready".
They knocked, and a moment later the door opened to Harry’s unruly hair and huge smile.
They stepped inside, and before they knew it, half a day went by in an incredible blur of unwrapping presents, toasting with eggnog, and Molly running back and forth between her guests and the kitchen with a stressed, sour expression, shooing away anyone in her path who tried to help her. Hermione reassuringly held Bella’s hand, and let her palm rest on Bella’s thigh during an early dinner to show her constant support. Half of the day, Celestina Warbeck played in the background.
Bellatrix was staring daggers at both the radio and Mrs Weasley each time another song came on. As the fifth repetition of "A Cauldron of Hot, Strong Love" began to play, Hermione quickly distracted Bella by kissing her under a mistletoe. She deemed it entirely too likely that Bellatrix would make the radio explode with nothing but the power of her mind and magic otherwise.
Dinner went by, and eventually they picked up all the gifts they had gotten (or well, the ones Hermione had gotten), said their goodbyes and went out into the winter night to apparate back to their London apartment. When they arrived, Hermione searched her pockets for the enchanted key to their unblastable door, and Bellatrix wrapped her arms around her from behind, eliciting a small smile on Hermione’s face.
Snow was beginning to fall, catching on Bella’s curls and her coat, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she turned around, for she had never seen anything so lovely.
"Welcome home", Bellatrix rumbled lowly, and Hermione echoed, "welcome home".
They kissed then, on the doorstep still close to the snow there in the quiet winter night, and it was the most perfect, all-encompassing thing.
"Thank you for coming with me", Hermione whispered when they broke apart.
"My pleasure", Bellatrix replied smootly with a crooked little grin. She reached into her pocket and took out a little parcel.
"I got you this", she said. Hermione took it, too stunned to reply, simply looking down at the elegant little box in her hands. After a long moment, Bellatrix gently brought her fingertips to Hermione’s chin, tilting it upwards until their eyes met.
Looking at her young lover, she said, "merry Christmas, Hermione Granger."
And Hermione looked at the woman she had fallen for, against all odds, against all expectations, and said "merry Christmas, Bellatrix Black".