Chapter Text
Dear Hydra,
Don't worry, I understand you're busy, I don't hold your late reply against you. I'm just happy to have heard from you at all, I was worried after hearing those rumors about you and Harry Potter. I just wanted to remind you that my code name will be Jess whilst you are staying with Druella so we can communicate. If she finds the letters, under no circumstances mention me, I don't want you getting in any trouble. Just try and keep your head down. I'm appealing you staying with Druella every step I can, but the Ministry haven't been co-operating, as per usual.
If she does anything, let me know immediately and I'll get you out of there.
I'm sorry you couldn't do your exams, I'm sure you would've done amazingly. Next year, I'm sure you'll get all Outstanding's. Just don't forget about me when you're famous, alright? But seriously, I believe in you. If you need any help, I'd be happy to assist you, or I could ask my daughter Nymphadora to tutor you, she's a famous Auror, you know. Well, she's not famous yet, but she will be, mark my words.
I understand more than you know how hard it is to stay there. Please, just keep in mind everyone you have on the outside, all your friends, Professor McGonagall and me. No matter what lies she tells you, we are here for you. It's easy to feel isolated in a place like that, but you must try your best to remember all the good things in life. I'm sorry it's come to this, I'm sorry I can't come and take you away from there myself. I just hope to God you'll be alright. If you can, reply and tell me how things are.
If you can't, there's no pressure. Just do your best to stay safe. Keep your head down, be good.
Love,
Healer Tonks
---
Druella led her up the white marble stairs, up and up to the very top floor, the fifth floor. That was a good sign. Arcturus had put her on the top floor. She didn't let her guard down yet, though, her shoulders tense as she loyally followed behind her grandmother. "That's where I pushed your grandfather," Druella told her, frankly, staring at her face. Another test. She was pushing the boat out this time, from implication to straight up confessing murder. There was an expectant air to her, she wanted Hydra to respond. "Must've been a lot of blood," she replied, glancing down the flight of stairs, completely emotionless.
A nod of approval. Yet another good sign. "Nothing a good Scourgify couldn't clean up. Let that be a lesson, sweetheart, no matter the situation there's no need for any pathetic crying. Just pull yourself together and keep your chin up, is that clear?" Druella snapped. "Yes, I understand."
Her grandmother gave her a small smile, before her features smoothed out once more into a cold mask. She beckoned her to follow and Hydra obeyed. At the very end of the hallway were three green doors. The first had the name Bellatrix painted on in black cursive, the third had Narcissa's written and the middle door was blackened around the edges as if burned, with a name that had once been there messily painted over in black. Druella opened the first door, her mother's room.
There was a clear teenage atmosphere in the room, with black clothes still splayed all over the floor and posters of the Weird Sisters defiantly stuck over the plain, floral wallpaper. If not for the strange shrine dedicated to a snake-like man that eerily resembled Lord Voldemort, it could've belonged to any angsty teenage girl.
"This will be your room," Druella declared. Her whole body froze up. She didn't like it here, she didn't want to be here. She wanted to be Hydra, not her mother.
Nervously, she licked her lips. Maybe Druella would understand, she didn't seem to like Bellatrix and she made her distaste of the décor very clear with her sneering. "Um, excuse me… Could I maybe… Sleep somewhere else? Like Narcissa's room?" Hydra stammered. Immediately, there was a switch in Druella's demeanor from neutral annoyance, to downright thunderous anger. "What did you just say to me?" Druella demanded. "N-Nothing!" She cried. But, it was already to late. She felt a hand smacking her across the face, to the ground, like cold, harsh reality rearing it's ugly head. This was life outside Hogwarts.
---
Hydra stared at herself with a blank expression. The bruises fit her pale face disturbingly well, like they belonged there.
She startled at the change in reflection, her own face fading and replaced by the redhead. Her relieved smile dropped at the sight of Hydra. "What happened?" Lily demanded, frowning deeply. She didn't dare say a word, there was no excuses she could make. The simple truth was that Hydra had deserved it. Instead, she turned the tap on, drowning out anything Lily might say and washed away her pure blood. When she was finished, Lily was still there, staring at her with alarm and anxiety. "Did they hit you?" Lily asked, her words echoing off the marble walls.
Reluctantly, she nodded. Lily's expression turned murderous, like a mother bear. "It's not her fault, I was being bad," Hydra quickly added. She winced at how pathetic and whiny she sounded. "I don't care if you were the biggest brat in the world, that's no excuse to hit a child." retorted Lily, clenching her fists. "I'm not a child! I'm almost twelve!"
The look Lily gave her was just sad. Without another word, Hydra turned away, slinking back to her mother's room. To her room.
---
She heard the floor outside her door creak. Quickly, Hydra wiped her tears away and sat up, pulling herself together as best as she could. The door opened, to a two foot tall house elf wearing a dirty rag cloth that barely covered it's wrinkly greyish-greenish skin and holding a silver plater. No, not an it, she. One of Hermione's books had said that one could tell an elf's gender by their ears - males had floppy ears and females had ears that stood up straight. Apparently, a house elf's foot size also showed their age, with feet shrinking as a house elf grew older. If that was true, this house elf couldn't be older than a few years, with feet so big she was almost tripping over them.
Hydra wondered if Arcturus would be proud of her, for knowing so much about house elves. He certainly seemed to be fond of the creatures, preaching her respect and care when it came to house elves.
It seemed Druella did not share this mindset. She winced at the bloody gash along the house elf's face, mirroring her own almost exactly. "Beastie brings Miss. Lestrange food. Mistress is with guests and says Miss. Lestrange is not to bother her," she croaked. Carefully, Beastie placed the silver platter on the bed, lifting the lid up to reveal a single strawberry on plate. There was a note beside it which simply read: A respectable lady must stay slim. - Druella
Her spirits lifted, quite relieved to have any food at all. She knew, if she were with Walburga she would've gone to bed hungry for the next few nights. Maybe Druella did care for her after all. Honestly, she thought, Lily didn’t know anything at all. Clearly, Druella still liked her very much. Hydra set the plate down, deciding to wait for later so she could truly savor the treat. There was a loud rumble and Beastie blushed in embarassment, holding her stomach. "Beastie is sorry," the house elf muttered, flinching away from her.
She wondered if that's what she looked like when she did the same.
"It's alright. You can have it, if you'd like," Hydra said, offering Beastie the strawberry. She shook her head, quickly. "No, Beastie could not take food from Miss. Lestrange," Beastie replied, sounding scandalized at the suggestion. "Well, you can have half and I'll have the other," she offered, pulling the strawberry apart.
Hydra held her hand out, with one of the soggy halves in her palm. Beastie glanced around, then snatched it away and put it in her mouth at the speed of light.
Once Beastie had swallowed the treated, her big eyes stared at her, inspecting Hydra closely for any signs of deception or aggression. "I'm not going to hurt you," Hydra asserted, her voice trembling slightly. The house elf looked shocked beyond belief. Bestie hesistantly shuffled closer, glancing at her carefully as she slowly lowered her head into Hydra's lap. Gently, she stroked Beastie's head which made her hum like a purring cat. She could feel Beastie's fingers gripping tightly at her legs, clinging on, wordlessly begging her to never leave.
As the sky darkened outside, Beastie's eyes fluttered closed, falling sound to sleep in her warm lap.
---
Disappointingly, the bookshelves were filled to the brim with books that did not interest Hydra, things about Dark Arts and blood sacrifices. With little else to do, she paced back and forth. Her mind was whirring, trying desperately to think of anything but her conversation with Lily. She was jolted from her thoughts when she stumbled. Hydra sat up slowly, glancing back at where her foot had caught. There was something out of place. One singular plank of wood that was a little too dark. From a distance, it blended in well enough but up close it was clear something was wrong.
She scooted over, hands prying it open. Hydra grabbed a hairbrush, hesitantly poking it in. Nothing happened. There was no burn marks or signs of curses. As she got closer, she could just about make out a leather book hiding in the darkness. Her hand reached out, pulling out the book lightning quick.
Under the soft candle light, the book looked far more innocent. Dust clung to the plain leather and the initials BB were crudely carved into it. Still, she did not let her guard down. Using only the tip of her pinkie, Hydra opened the book, blinking in surprise at the sight. Dear Bella, I hope you enjoy! Happy (secret) Christmas! Love, Cissy +... Hydra could not make out the second name which had been furiously scribbled out.
Then, she turned the page. It seemed to be a scrapbook of sorts, with a picture carefully eased into golden border corners. The picture depicted a teenage Bellatrix lounging by the Black Lake in her Slytherin uniform smirking, leaning into her left side was a much younger Narcissa smiling up at her and on Bellatrix's right side was a girl in Slytherin Quidditch robes, her dark brown hair tied up into a messy ponytail with her face scribbled over. Underneath the picture on the clean white parchment, the words The Black Sisters, 1967 were written in neat cursive.
Bellatrix and Narcissa had a sister. Not a Squib, but clearly not close enough to the family anymore to dare be mentioned. Hydra's finger traced her obscured face. Who was she?
---
The door creaked open, feet scuttering across the floor, then Beastie dived into the comfort of the warm sheets, tiny fingers grabbing at Hydra needy. She had read once that house elf infants don't need comfort like a human baby. Hydra wasn't sure that was really true.
---
Dear Hydra,
I hope you're doing well. I've been doing some gardening over the summer, I just planted some strawberries. I hope you're doing something nice as well. Rumour has it, there's a beautiful field behind Swanville Manor, you should give it a look. It had plenty of space to run, with a forest and old town nearby. You can call for the Knight Bus if you just wait by the road and hope for it.
I'm sure you could find a lot of things in the woods if you looked hard enough. In the brambles, underground, high in the trees - everywhere.
Anyway, just remember your friends love you. We'll still be here for you. You just need to get through this summer and things will be a little better. Just do your best, try to stay positive even when it's hard. Hogwarts will be much better. In the meantime, try to do things to occupy your time - read books, run wild, play games. If it gets to much, you can always find your way to me. I'll be happy to help in any way I can. Remember that I'm there for you. We're all here for you and we miss you very much.
Love,
Jess
---
Hydra held Beastie close, still shaking and bleeding. Yet, she felt safe in the comfort of Beastie's warm arms hugging her tightly.
---
"Excuse me, Druella?" Hydra asked when she had finished up breakfast. Her grandmother glanced up from her newspaper with a disinterested look. "May I play outside please?" She continued. "Fine. But if there's one speck of mud on your dress, you'll be sorry," Druella snapped. Hydra nodded, eagerly jumping down and rushing out the door. "Be back for ten o'clock!" Druella called after her. Oh yes, her etiquette lessons... She still had bruises from yesterday. But, Hydra didn't like to think about that.
She focused instead on the path in front of her. There was a small, murky pond filled with overgrown daffodils, right beside it was an old stone bridge and on the other side, the meadow Healer Tonks had promised her. The grass was wild, having turned a dark yellow from years of neglect. Hydra waded her way through it, leaping happily over the stray brambles and nettles. There was a muddy patch which led to a forest filled with old oak trees.
Carefully, she lifted her dress and tiptoed across the mud, careful not to slip. Most of the forest was muddy, so Hydra clung onto the trees with one hand as she walked to keep herself from falling into it.
The very first thing she had noticed out of place was something sticking out of a wild blackberry bush, with it's thorny branches spreading across the forest like a disease. At this time of year, there was no ripe fruit to collect, only the bitter red blackberries that were not yet grown. This close, Hydra could see that there was a whole book hidden amongst it. Tentatively, she reached out a grabbed it, wincing at thorns scratching up her arm. She was pleased her dress hadn't been ripped or Druella would've been really upset.
Upon retrieving the book, she could tell there was some sort of enchantment on it. Yet whatever it was seemed to accept her. The words on the front page were at first scrambled until they made themselves clear for her, they read GIRLS ONLY! NO GROWN UPS OR BOYS ALLOWED! Well, she thought, that explained why she had been allowed to read it. She wondered if Bellatrix and Narcissa would be able to see it anymore.
Maybe, they were too old and mean. Maybe, it was just for Hydra now. All hers, like nothing else in the world was.
She flipped the book open. There was a childish sketch there, imperfect yet so earnestly innocent. On the right side, was a stick figure with curly hair with Bellatrix scribbled under it. Clearly, it was done with the least care, probably only taking about five or so minutes. On the far left side, was a much more detailed drawing that must've taken hours of an idyllic model with a tiny waist and the name Narcissa written under it in curly cursive, though the woman in the portrait was far too old to actually be her. Even now, that woman didn't look anything like Narcissa. Her features were just a little too perfect to actually be real.
In the middle of them was a messy attempt of a drawing. The proportions were all wrong, with messy lines and dripping ink. The girl in the drawing was average enough, except for the dark spots drawn onto her face that looked like bruises. Underneath it was the name Andromeda.
Hydra frowned. She knew that name from somewhere, she was sure of it...
"HYDRA!" Druella roared, her voice reaching her all the way from the house. Her eyes widened. She was in trouble. Stuffing the book into her white tights, Hydra rushed back, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. The book dug into her supple, pale flesh as she ran and she just prayed that Druella wouldn't be able to see it. She didn't want to think of what might happen if Druella found out that Hydra knew about the ever mysterious Andromeda Black. Nothing good, that was for certain.
---
Making herself as small as possible, Hydra walked up the steps of Swanville Manor under her grandmother's disapproving gaze. "You're late," Druella snapped, with her arms crossed tightly. She said nothing, her head bowed as she stared down at the ground. Druella plucked her husband's cane from the wall, although she could not see this, Hydra knew the sound off by heart. It cut through the air, rising higher and higher, then with one quick motion it knocked her down, leaving her cheek stinging in pain.
Druella bashed the cane against the floor thrice. "Up!" She ordered. Immediately, Hydra scrambled back to her feet. The end of the cane was jammed under her chin, rising her head until her gaze was meeting Druella's icy blue eyes. "What position is the dessert spoon in?" Druella questioned, the cane pushed right up against her windpipe.
She could feel her palms sweat. Hydra knew this, it was one of those rules that had been drilled into her time and time again but her mind was blank, her body operating only on panic. She tried to picture it in her head, the same dinner placement she'd seen her whole life yet the only thought in her mind was the worry of if she got it wrong. Before she could get the chance to answer one way or another, she was knocked back once more, Druella pressing down against her neck. Hydra gagged and panted, every time she tried to wiggle away, Druella pressed down harder. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, her eyes welled with shameful tears. There was nothing she could say or do, except stare up at her grandmother's smirking, gleeful face just hoping for her stop. Darkness closed in around the edges of her vision, slipping closer to unconsciousness.
Finally, Druella pulled the cane away. She coughed, greedily taking in the air she'd been deprived off and wiping away her tears with a shaky hand.
There was only a few moments of reprieve before Druella lifted the cane above her head, hitting Hydra's face over and over. Red blood seeped from her head, dripping onto the pristine marbled floors and down her face, obscuring her vision. "Well now, look at what a mess you've made," sneered Druella when she'd finished, glaring at her. Hydra's head was too fuzzy to do anything but blink blearily up at her.
Druella's claws gripped the bloody cane tightly, staring down at her expectantly. "I'm sorry," she muttered.
---
The other side of the bed was empty. Hydra sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the door as she hugged herself close, waiting. Blood was dripping down her face, drops of red hitting the floor and joining those identical, faded marks from years before. Eventually, her feet made her way towards the door, shivering from the night air. She lingered there for quite sometime, until she found herself twisting the handle, spurred on by a need for a friend.
She tread through the corridor haunted by screams and sobs and screeches. Hydra could not quite make out the overlapping voice, but she could feel them. The anger, the pain, the sadness, the happiness, everything that these four walls had witnessed and hidden. She was light and speedy on her feet as she avoided the creaking floorboards. As she made her way down the stairs, towards the entry hall she'd been so desperate to avoid after that hideous morning, she could hear scrubbing.
Carefully, she peeked out, watching Beastie wash away her blood. She was struck at once by empathy and shame and guilt. If she'd just come back on time, Hydra thought to herself.
"Let me help," she said, making Beastie jump in fright. The house elf relaxed. "Miss. Lestrange does not need to," Beastie muttered, shaking her head. Stepping closer into the light, Hydra noticed the blood glistening against Beastie's skin, rolling down her face like tears and falling onto the floor, mingling with her own. They stood, two halves of the same coin. "Let me," she repeated.
Wordlessly, Beastie handed her a sponge. Her hand burned from the soapy, boiling water and when she withdrew it, blood was dripping down her hand like sticky strawberry juice. She pulled out her wand, watching as it glistened black under her spell. With a flick, the black bled out, until only the clear water was left behind. Another flick and her wand absorbed Beastie's bleeding cuts, leaving her wrinkly skin unmarred. One more flick, the scene of the crime was turned into an entryway once more, leaving behind no trace of blood or misery behind.
In amazement, Beastie was staring at her, though Hydra knew house elves were capable of much more fantastic feats. Then, Beastie crawled up her leg and clinging to her midsection as she held an ear to Hydra's steady, beating heart.
---
Mr Greengrass' office was on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, overlooking the polluted, dreary London streets. Inside there was only about six feet of space, the walls were a sickly yellow colour with the paint peeling off, the bin was overflowing, there was a strong scent of coffee in the air, the rickety desk was cluttered with papers and takeaway containers. Everything about it was unwelcoming, yet even as his co-workers returned home, Mr Greengrass remained there pouring over legal documents well into the early hours of the morning, running on caffeine alone.
Perhaps, it had been fate that had brought Druella Black knocking on his office door or maybe something else. Either way, Mr Greengrass had glanced blearily at the time of three in the morning and had opened the door. Druella had brushed past him, entering the office as if it were her own, her eyes taking the room in with great distaste.
The first thing Mr Greengrass had noted of Druella was her last name. Black. They may have been dying off, but the Blacks were still as powerful and proud as ever. "I require your advice in a legal matter. Can I be assured it will not leave this room?" Druella asked him, with a raised eyebrow. "Of course," He had replied eagerly, quite pleased to finally have some sort of recognition for years of labour. Still, she remained sceptical. "That includes the press and any court. This must stay between us." Again, he agreed.
With a smirk, she sat down on the edge of his guest chair, as if afraid to be infected by it. "Hypothetically speaking, if a girl I was caring for were to die... Who would be given her legal assets?"
"Well, if you are her legal guardian, you would," Mr Greengrass answered. "Yes, I thought so. And hypothetically speaking, what would be the best way to get away with murder?" Druella pressed on. Her hand was curled around her wand, quite ready to wipe his memory should he refuse to co-operate. But, he had no reason not to. Underneath his sleeve, there was still the covered up mark of his Master. Mr Greengrass was not a cruel man, but he knew to take the opportunities he was given in life when they came his way. If the death of another improved the lives of him and his family, what reason did he have to protest?
He thought his next words over very carefully. "That depends very much on how much you're willing to pay for my advice," Mr Greengrass said. A sack of gold was thrown onto his desk quite carelessly. This was a woman with money to burn. Unable to believe his luck, Mr Greengrass checked it for any signs of enchantments and then performed another spell to calculate the exact amount.
It was 10,000 galleons. Well, how on earth could he refuse that much money when it would make such a difference to his wife and daughters? Only a selfish man would refuse, he told himself.
"I would quite advice you don't carry out the murder yourself," he responded. Druella let out a disappointed sigh. "A henchman, then?" She asked. "I would suggest your House Elf instead. It's loyalty is a guaranteed so long as you have trained it well. When it confesses, it will be an open and shut case. No one has to know you're involved in any way."
---
Beastie was shaking as she entered Bellatrix's room, skin still raw and bleeding from a harsh beating. "Let me--" Hydra begun, pulling out her wand to heal the elf's injuries. She leaped back, wrinkly hands held up defensively. "Mistress Black says Miss Lestrange is not to heal Bestie. Beastie bad elf, Beastie does not deserve it," Beastie croaked, her head bowed. In understanding, Hydra placed her wand back in her bag. It wouldn't do to get both her and Beastie in trouble. It was useless, there was nothing she could do without alerting Druella. Even if she was subtle with her healing, Beastie was magically forced to her Mistress to tell the truth.
The elf had no freedom, no autonomy, everything she did had to directly follow her Mistress' orders.
She gripped at Hydra's arms with a surprising strength for only being two feet tall, pulling her into the bathroom. Hydra was placed into the corner, Beastie clicking her fingers to lock the door behind them. Silently, Hydra watched as she turned the taps on. Beastie's big eyes were welling with tears, pointy teeth nibbling anxiously at her swollen lips and her hands wringing as she waited for the tub to fill.
Something bad was happening, she could feel it, Beastie had never been quite this nervous before. Hydra glanced hopelessly at the door and then back at Beastie. Her limbs felt frozen in ice, fear thumping against her ribcage like a cornered animal. There were no coherent thoughts in her brain, only vague instincts being screamed at her - hide, run, hide. "Miss Lestrange?" A small, tearful voice asked. It was only then that Hydra realised that she was crumpled up on the floor, her head trapped between her knees as her body quivered. She couldn't move, anxiety overwhelming all her senses.
"Beastie is sorry, so sorry," the elf sniffled. She hugged her knees tightly, hoping this was just a bad dream.
She felt herself being pulled along the marble floor. Thin, wrinkly arms held her giving her a spilt second of comfort. Then, they let her go and she was submerged in water. It went up her nose, in her mouth, filling up her lungs. Uselessly, Hydra tried to life her head but it was pushed back down. Her throat burned, arms thrashing wildly, ears filled with a violent symphony of sobs.
Darkness was setting in, more permanent and real than it had ever been. Panic filled her as she tried in vain to breathe. "Beastie is sorry! Beastie is sorry!" The elf repeated over and over. Those words, heartbroken and tragic were the last she heard before Hydra felt her heartbeat slow. It was as peaceful as sleep, yet as terrifying as diving off the cliff's edge. Slower and slower and slower, until her heart had stopped entirely, sitting heavy and useless in her chest. Helena had told her stories about passing on, about leaving her body and meeting with Death.
Hydra Lestrange did not leave her body, her soul was still trapped, unable to move her stiff and lifeless limbs.
The water passed over her like a smooth rock, she was one with the tub, unable to feel anything at all but a steady numbness. Detached, she head the door creak open. There was a crack of bones as Beastie was kicked to the floor. Still, she felt nothing. "Pull yourself together," Druella snapped. Her sharp nails gripped at her cold skin, pulling Hydra out and onto the floor. Still, she couldn't move, staring up at the ceiling blankly - dead as a doornail.
---
Dear Hydra,
I haven't heard from you in a while. Of course, I don't hold this against you, I just worry. I always worry when it comes to you, especially in that house... That awful house... I'm sorry if I'm alarming you, that is not my intent. I've just been under the weather lately, I keep getting this feeling in the pit of my stomach, this deep sinking feeling. It's probably nothing, just a cold. But I've been forced to stay in bed, with only my thoughts on you to occupy me. I keep getting this creeping sensation that something is deeply wrong. But it isn't, is it?
If something's wrong, just tell me. I'll come right there and set Druella straight. Please, just answer me and I'll help you in any way you need. I can fix it, just tell me what's wrong. Tell me if you're hurt and I will heal you. I'll do anything for you, if you would just tell me what's wrong. Please answer me.
Love,
Jess