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Red.
Bellatrix could remember the first time she had ever met Hermione.
She’d known who she was, obviously- they were in constant competition with each other in all of their classes, but they had never actually talked in the year that they’d been going to school. But at the start of their second year- or, really, more towards the middle- they interacted for the first time.
She’d just finished the first Quidditch game of the season (her first ever ), and, though Slytherin had put up a good fight, Gryffindor had still beaten them. Her team was a bit dejected as a result, and she had broken off with them to walk on her own. Somehow, she didn’t much feel like being with the team just then.
She must have looked pretty upset, because a concerned Hermione Granger came up to her, bushy hair bouncing behind her, and tapped her arm. “Are you alright?”
She’d frowned, thinking who does this girl think she is? “I’m fine.” It came off a bit more snappish than she’d meant it to- she didn’t like the girl, but she didn’t hate her either.
“It was a good game,” she said cheerfully. “I actually thought you did really well.” Did she mean the team? Or her, specifically? (Had she been watching?)
Bellatrix shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. “I- thanks. Still could’ve done better.”
“Well, Gryffindor is very good.” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her cheeky expression.
“Hm. Agree to disagree. Though I will admit that Potter is much better than Draco.”
Granger smiled at her. “Malfoy is, ah- lacking, a bit. In that particular area.”
She covered up her snort with a hasty cough, and Granger’s eyes widened at the sound. “Oh, dear, are you cold? You look cold, and it’s practically freezing outside, here-” Bellatrix tensed up as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and draped it over Bellatrix’s shoulders. “You don’t want to catch a cold.”
She narrowed her eyes. If she were a Slytherin, she would suspect something was wrong- some ulterior motive, or something - but. Granger was looking at her with a genuinely concerned expression, and seemed to actually want to help , which was- which was so weird , why was she being nice?
Bellatrix realized that she had been standing still, and that Granger still had that concerned look on her face. She suddenly felt very not cold at all, an unfamiliar heat rushing to her face. “I-”
She ran for it. Hurried away from Granger and her genuine eyes and bushy hair and back into the warmth of the castle, all the way down to the Slytherin dorms. Where she paused. Took off the scarf from where it was still sitting on her shoulders. Ran her hands over the deep red material, where there were a couple of holes from overuse. It smelled like lavender.
She never ended up returning the scarf.
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Orange.
She found herself out here more often than not nowadays. The grounds were so peaceful in the early morning when no one else was awake, and in the stress of her third year, Bellatrix had taken to walking around them in the morning.
The air had a slight chill to it, even though it was only September and the weather had yet to turn to winter- the dementors were roaming the castle grounds. She was always careful to avoid them, she didn’t need a repeat of the train ride where she’d nearly passed out at the things it had brought-
“Bellatrix?”
She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice behind her, and she had her wand in her hand in an instant (one could never be too careful with Sirius Black on the loose). Who would be out here this early?
Apparently, Hermione Granger.
They hadn’t talked after the Quidditch match except when they had to for class, but sometimes she found herself glancing over at her when she didn’t think she was looking, a part of her wanting, at least a little, to go and talk to her but having no idea what she should say.
“Er. Granger. Hello.”
“I didn’t think anyone else stayed out this late.”
She frowned. “This late? Granger, it’s 6 in the morning, don’t you mean early?”
Granger got a look of horror on her face, and looked up at the sky, where hints of orange were starting to peek over the hills. “Oh my god.” Bellatrix studied her closer. She knew Granger was taking a ridiculous amount of work that year- was she not sleeping? There were bags under her eyes. And she was swaying a bit where she stood.
“It’s Saturday, Granger. Go take a nap or something. You- kind of look like shit.”
Granger’s eyes widened a bit at the curse (honestly, they were thirteen ) but regained her composure pretty quickly (likely because of Weasley). “I do not - I’m fine. I have work to do, anyway.”
She scowled. She didn’t care about Granger, necessarily, but the girl was clearly running herself ragged and- and. She still owed her for the scarf (even if it hadn’t really been that big of a deal). “Nope. Come on. We’re going to the library and I’m doing your homework for you and you’re going to go to bed.” The glare she sent her, she felt, left no room for argument.
Granger still looked like she was going to argue, but Bellatrix heightened her glare, and she sighed. “Fine. But I’m not going to let you do my homework for me, that’s cheating!”
“Granger, don’t act like you don’t do Potters and Weasleys homework. There’s no way they would pass their classes without it.” Granger’s stare was unrelenting. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it with you, happy?”
“Mm. Fine. But-” She reached out, grabbing Bellatrix’s arm as she started walking towards the school- “Wait. Let’s stay here for a minute.”
“Why?”
Granger nodded off towards the hills. “Look.”
Rolling her eyes a bit, Bellatrix looked. And gasped, a bit. Because no matter how many times she walked the grounds in the morning, seeing the sky lit up with the bright orange of sunrise would always take her breath away.
She glanced next to her. Granger’s face and the front of her hair were lit up with the orange light. She’s very pretty.
She shook her head, and grabbed Granger’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
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Yellow.
“What is that thing?”
Granger looked up at her from where she was writing an essay. Bellatrix had taken to doing homework with Granger after that day - with someone else to help and talk about the material with, Granger was looking much less horrible and she actually got sleep every night. (Bellatrix tried not to show how relieved she was at this).
“What thing?”
“ That.” She pointed at the strange yellow- thing that Granger was holding and writing with.
“Oh. It’s called a pencil. It’s like- a muggle quill.” She tilted her head. Spending time with Granger meant she’d had some exposure to muggle- things- but. She didn’t know that they didn’t use quills. Why would they-
Granger saw her confused expression. “See, the ink is sort of- inside of the pencil. So I don’t have to dip it in ink every time I run out. It’s actually much more effective than a quill.”
Huh. She hadn’t known muggles were so- intuitive. She supposed, since they couldn’t use magic, they had to come up with other ways to get around. “But- why is it yellow?” That she couldn’t understand. Was it because their wood was dyed yellow? Were the trees different colors? Did it give it more efficiency?
“I’m actually not sure,” Granger frowned. “Er. They liked the way it looked?”
Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. “But it’s yellow. That’s Hufflepuff color.”
Granger rolled her eyes at her, but Bellatrix was almost sure she could see the hint of a smile.
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Green.
“ Pleeease?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But-”
“Nope.”
“Please please please please please pretty please?”
Granger glared at her, and Bellatrix gave her her best puppy eyes and held up the paint. It was the day of Slytherin’s first game of the season (since they had pulled out when Draco “hurt his arm”), and, since they weren’t playing against Gryffindor, she was attempting to convince her to wear some good old fashioned green face paint. “Harry and Ron would kill me.”
“Tell them you did it on a dare. They’ll understand that, right? Your whole ‘Gryffindors are too stupid to turn down a challenge’ thing?”
“Gryffindors aren’t stupid , they’re noble.”
“My point still stands. If someone dared Potter to wear green face paint, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t want to be seen as a coward, or whatever.”
Granger rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue with her. Ha. “I’m still not doing it.”
“I’ll give you something in return,” Bellatrix pleaded. “Just- come on, we’re gonna kick Ravenclaw’s arse, you’d look stupid if you didn’t wear the colors of the winning team. And besides, I’m playing, and I want you to cheer for me.” She amped up the puppy eyes- playing the friendship card always got Hermione to do what she wanted (though it was, admittedly, an actual reason for her asking- she didn’t have many friends, and Hermione was as close as it got, and since she wasn’t even playing against her house she wanted the support, was that too much to ask?)
Granger seemed to melt a bit. “I- oh, you know what? Fine. But I do get something in return.”
“Deal. What do you want?”
Granger considered it. “Hm. I’ll decide later. But you do owe me.”
“Whatever. Here, I’m putting this on.”
She privately thought that Granger looked rather nice with the green and silver painted across her face, but kept that to herself. “Alright, there we go. Now I have to get to the match-”
“Bella?”
She pointedly ignored the weird fluttery sensation in her gut at the nickname. “Yes?”
“I think I know what I want.” Granger was looking at her weird. She wondered if she’d gotten some of the paint on her own face by accident. She leaned in close and left a quick peck on her cheek, and Bellatrix’s brain immediately ceased its ability to function. “Win for me, ok?”
Bellatrix made a very undignified squeaking noise in the back of her throat, and Hermione smiled a bit, before walking off to join her friends in the stands.
Slytherin won the match, and her housemates threw a party that night (that she was only allowed to attend because she was on the team, they staunchly refused to let her touch the alcohol). When she finally went to bed, around 1 in the morning, her cheek was still tingling.
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Blue.
Hermione’s dress was blue.
Bellatrix couldn’t deny the butterflies in her stomach at the sight of her descending the stairs, back straight without the weight of books and hair shiny and smooth and-
She swallowed, hard. This was- oh, Merlin. She was so pretty, and her dress was blue, and she looked absolutely stunning and-
She wasn’t hers. She hadn’t acted soon enough, Viktor fucking Krum had swooped in and taken her despite the soft kiss on her cheek and occasional brushes against her hand or thigh or waist.
She watched on as the Champions led their partners on the dance floor (well. Most of them were leading their partners. The only exception was Potter, who was clinging to Patil in what looked like abject terror as she determinedly moved with him across the floor). Hermione smiled lightly and swirled around the floor with Krum. Once the song ended, he bowed down, kissed her hand, and then held his own out for another dance. She was about to resign herself to an entire evening of watching Hermione dance with Krum and possibly getting drunk off of the punch that she knew for a fact that Parkinson and Greengrass had already spiked when-
She shook her head, still smiling at him, and stepped away. He nodded, and grinned, and walked off of the dance floor and she turned and looked straight at Bellatrix.
Before she could get away, Hermione was already in front of her. “Hey.”
Bellatrix managed to stop herself from making an odd strangled sound by clearing her throat. “Er. Hi. You, um. You look nice.” It did not help that Hermione was much taller than her, especially in heels, and her chest was far too close to eye level for comfort.
“You do too.” She snapped her eyes up to hers. “Viktor’s off with his friends,” she said suddenly.
Bellatrix snapped out of it. “Right. Of course. You should go find him. Wouldn’t want him to be without his date.” She was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“He’s going to find someone else,” Hermione said carefully. Bellatrix’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I realized- there was someone else that I wanted to dance with.”
Damnit. “Oh. Well. You should probably go find him, then.”
Hermione laughed a bit. “I already have. Dance with me?”
Bellatrix’s entire world slowed to a stop. Was she- did she- she wanted to dance with her? Why- she- soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, playful smile and a softer one reserved especially for her, how did she never see it? How did she never- why did she never realized that Hermione-
She snapped back into reality with a jolt. “I- yes. Yes, I’ll dance with you.”
She took her hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling her onto the dance floor. People whispered around them, this would be the talk of the school and the very small part of Bellatrix that still cared about reputation and all the other shit her mother always drilled into protested. Told her to turn back and rip her hand away.
She brushed it aside firmly, and placed her hand on Hermione’s waist. They started off, ignoring the whispers and the shocked faces of Potters and Weasleys faces in the crowd and Draco’s snide comments. Hermione’s dress swirled around her in a dizzying whirl of blue.
Bellatrix lost herself in the almost mesmerizing color. 5 minutes later, she lost herself again in the feeling of the soft lips on hers.
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Purple.
The sky was purple.
Was the sky supposed to be purple? She wasn’t sure. She was sure she’d seen that shade before, maybe on one of her morning walks, but never this- much. It was the perfect moment where the sky should have been lit up in various different colors- including purple- except it was blocked out by the massive cloud of dust and the lingering energy from spellfire in the air.
Maybe purple was the normal after a battle. (It hit her then- she had been in a battle. She’d watched people she’d gone to school with fall under Death Eater’s spells, she’d killed people, been injured, could still hear the sound of yelling and blasting and probably always would-)
“Bella.”
That single word was like a breath of fresh air, and she whirled around. Hermione.
“Oh, god.” Her girlfriend all but sobbed as she ran towards her, enveloping her in a hug. Bellatrix melted into it- her year had been full of sabotage and punishments and running and fear but certainly not hugs. Not for her.
Bellatrix blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes, and pulled away a bit to brush away the ones that had fallen from Hermione’s. “It’s okay. We- we’re okay.” She was shaking, now, the tears coming back full force. “You’re okay.”
She hadn’t known, all year, if Hermione was okay. She had all but dropped off of the face of the earth as far as anyone was concerned, only to emerge suddenly, huddled together with her friends at Malfoy Manor and looking far skinnier than Bellatrix had ever seen her and-
And. And then her father had tortured her. And tried to kill her. And then they’d seen each other during the battle but there hadn’t been time to make sure she was okay.
But they were both here now. Alone. And they were okay.
Unable to wait any longer, she crashed her lips into Hermione’s, one hand grasping at her hair and the other staying wrapped around her waist. There was still rubble all around them, Bellatrix was shaking slightly and there was a cut on her side that would need seeing to. The world was a mess, and they were at the center of it.
The sky was purple. But they were going to be okay.
(And that was all that mattered.)