Chapter 1
How did my life come to this?
It was a frequent thought in the head of Bellatrix Black.
She knew the answer, but she just couldn’t accept what had become of her.
Her! The heiress of the House of Black, one of, if not the most talented dueler in the Wizarding World, the Slytherin with the highest N.E.W.T and O.W.L grades in Hogwarts.
Though that record had been broken. Bellatrix thought bitterly. By that bushy haired brat in her spot.
Hermione Granger was visible through the glass walls of her office.
The brat was diligently writing on a piece of parchment with a look of concentration that furrowed her brows and caused her tongue to peek out of the corner of her mouth.
There was one and only reason she was outside of the Minister of Magic’s office and not inside was the current inhabitant.
During the election, Tom Riddle, her mentor had ran for reelection.
He was a shoe-in for it. No competitors, no complaints, it was perfect.
Bellatrix hadn’t even bothered taking her belongings out of the brat’s office, it was obvious Tom would win again and she would remain his assistant so why would she?
Then it all went wrong.
That little swot had found a past article where Tom had said some albeit unsavory things about mudbloods.
She went on to open her big gob about it and cause a right stink.
A stink that allowed Kingsley Shacklebolt, a mere Auror, to swoop in and undermine everything her and Tom had worked towards.
Bellatrix had been demoted.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, as if the world was playing a cruel trick on her.
Shaklebolt had resigned after a whopping 6 years and in his place, they elected that mouse of a girl.
Hermione Jean Granger.
Even the name made her blood boil.
What a pretentious name. Naming your daughter after a Shakespeare play.
Yes, Bellatrix knew Shakespeare.
Then it’s ruined by the most basic, muggle name in the world. Practically rubbing the fact she’s a mudblood in your face.
‘God is gracious’. How tragically mundane.
Of course their daughter is a blessing, a gift, blah blah blah.
Finally, it was topped off by a French last name. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more pompous.
“Good afternoon, Bellatrix.” Hermione greeted cheerfully.
The older witch blinked.
She must have been so caught up in her criticisms she missed the Minister finishing up and heading out of her office.
Used to Bellatrix’s lack of responses, she continued walking towards the cafeteria.
Bellatrix sighed.
Truthfully, there wasn’t much to critique about the girl.
She was hard-working, diligent, caring, and motivated.
The Assistant almost always found herself bored seeing as Hermione almost never asked her to do anything.
Though that only made Bellatrix angrier.
How dare she.
How dare she be so perfect at Bellatrix’s job.
How dare she imply Bellatrix was useless and incompetent, not even giving her simple tasks.
How dare she have such a pretentious name.
How dare she reach beat Bellatrix out of her job at an age younger than Bella had been when she first got it.
How dare she come to the Ministry wearing those hideous baggy clothes and horrific shoes.
Clogs, she had called them. Sensible clogs.
Bellatrix snorted.
Cissy would have a fit.
By the time Bellatrix enlarged the packed lunch her dear, youngest sister had packed, the slip of a girl was merrily skipping back to her office.
That was an exaggeration, though Bellatrix still thought her footsteps were too happy for work.
“Good afternoon, Bellatrix.”
“Good afternoon.”
Hermione’s patterned steps faltered as she stumbled, ceasing her ‘clog-ing’.
“Wha-uh,” The Minister’s eyes frantically searched Bella’s face in disbelief.
“Thank you.” She finally squeaked out, ‘clog-ing’ at a faster pace back to her office.
Once the door closed, Bellatrix couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled from her chest.
What a sight that was, seeing that prim and proper girl flustered.
She probably thought I was mute. Bella wiped a tear from her eye. Oh, that was a treat.
By no means did Bella like the girl.
But she would definitely return her greetings more often.