Disclaimer: Alas, I do not gain any wealth, I am a poor student still. Every Harry Potter character belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: This story contains an explicit description of sexual intercourse (with mutual consent) between two women, one being significantly older than the other. There is an (obvious?) powerplay going on between the two, with flavours of BDSM. A heterosexual marriage is also hinted at in snippets.
The story below is a(n unforeseen) sequel to 'The Dead cannot Lie', I recommend you read that first before you continue with this. Though it is not a necessity.
Hermione ran, made her muscles strain. Despite this, she heard that the laughter still came from somewhere close behind, though it came out in ragged huffs between shallow breaths.
Bellatrix was close, Hermione did not have to look over her shoulder to know she was barely able to stay out of reach.
There was no magic to fly through the air and crash into the environment, no, this forest of furniture is not supposed to be damaged. She would not have it, Bellatrix preferred it the primal way. Hands and feet, the occasional bite; nothing else.
As Hermione ran through the living room she put a hand on the back of an armchair and jumped over it, in the hope to put more distance between herself and Bellatrix. The moment she landed she sprinted through the room into the hall and out of the, still open, front door. Dawn lightened the sky above, dew covered the grass and made Hermione slip and stumble when she turned the corner of the house which would lead her to the back door.
As she slipped with her bare feet over the grass she landed with her hands on the ground, keeping herself semi-upright and ready to dash off once more. Though before Hermione did she caught a glimpse of ebony curls and a feral smile. Bellatrix had gotten far too close in these last few seconds. It would not be long before Hermione would be caught.
Cat and mouse games were Bellatrix' favourites. As long as she got what she was after, and that was always Hermione.
The younger woman ran through the back door and dashed around the oaken table, through the kitchen back into the hall. Bellatrix was like a black shadow behind her; a prowling one, not a housecat, one that could roar, a panther.
Once in the hall Hermione blindly went for the stairs and ran two steps at a time. On the landing she dashed towards the study, where she could hide between the hundreds of bookcases.
She was about to reach for the door's handle when Hermione was jerked backwards, the collar of her summer dress momentarily cut her throat. Though as she stumbled backwards the sensation lessened and she gasped for oxygen whilst she collided with Bellatrix. Who lost no time to grab her wrists and pin them high above her head against the door of the study.
Hermione's face was pressed against the wood and her back was still towards Bellatrix. From the corners of her eyes she tried to watch the older woman, but it started to become harder to concentrate when she felt how Bellatrix' body pressed against her own. In the silence that followed their rushed breaths filled the air, they needed to regain their breath before they continued.
She could not help it, her weakness for loving gestures made her act without thought. Hermione leaned her head backwards and rested hers sideways against Bellatrix', their cheeks touched and she enjoyed the warmth. A pleased crooning escaped her throat unbiddenly and she unconsciously pressed herself more into the warm softness of Bellatrix' curves.
The older woman did nothing for a dozen seconds, but Hermione knew that meant little. Then she felt sharp little bites travel from her jawline to her earlobe. No broken teeth, no, those were long gone. Yet, the bites hurt. Though this was a merciful punishment. And Bellatrix never did 'merciful', there was more to come.
A hand started to feel her up and down and when Bellatrix finally let Hermione's earlobe escape from between her teeth she husked, "Wanted to hide between your books, Muddykins? Precious books can't hide you from me forever."
Hermione whimpered as Bellatrix grabbed one of her breasts roughly, nails dug into the soft flesh, her nipples hardened. She flexed her fingers, her hands, but her wrists were held in the steel grip of Bellatrix' other hand. It was fruitless.
Desire was heavy in Bellatrix' voice as she continued to taunt the younger woman, "So weak, yet believed to be the greatest of her generation."
Only weak for you, Hermione mouthed, but she kept herself from speaking the words. It was an admission that was better not made aloud.
"Something you have to say, Muddymine?"
The younger woman bit on her lower lip and shook her head. Another whimper was ripped from her as Bellatrix' hand travelled downward and cupped her womanhood through the material of her dress. A shuddering breath tumbled from her lips before she arched into the touch. Only to whine as the hand was gone. Instead, it took hold of her neck, where nails made sure she could not wriggle free once the other hand let go of her wrists in order to open the door.
The scent of hundreds of books greeted them, wafted around them, a silent invitation to come and wander inside. Yet neither woman gave it much attention, their companion being that much more interesting. Still, they did go inside. With a deliberate slowness Bellatrix led Hermione towards the reading corner near the fireplace. Merely by using her hand on Hermione's neck, pushing right, left or forward. A tightening of the fingers meant that she had to stop in her tracks.
When they stood next to the sofa a downwards press from Bellatrix' hand forced Hermione to buckle her knees. At first, she made to sit on the sofa, but the painful tightening and deepening of nails in her neck made her falter. Instead, she made to sit on her knees. Though she was pushed further to sit on her hands and knees.
"That's my girl," desire dripped from the affectionate words, Bellatrix' voice low and husky. "On all fours is how I want you."
Hermione felt how the hand eased from her neck and how it travelled down her back, all the while she heard the sound of linen shift. Bellatrix had taken place on the sofa, though she must have seated herself on the edge of it, for her fingers trailed up and down Hermione's spine without it seeming as if Bellatrix had to stretch all the way out.
The sensation combined with the building anticipation brought goosebumps all over Hermione's skin. She wanted to ask what exactly was to come, but all that came from her lips was, "Bellatrix." Just her name, which rolled from her tongue with ease and pleasure. Her name was intoxicating, just like the woman herself.
And the sound of it was enough to still Bellatrix' roaming hand. Her fingers gently stroked the place on Hermione's back before she felt how both of Bellatrix' hands took hold on either side of Hermione's hips and pulled her body backwards. She was steered to end with her ass against the edge of the couch and... right between Bellatrix spread legs.
"Sit down," the older woman ordered. Hermione did so without missing a beat, but now her hands laid idly in her lap. All the while her mind was trying to anticipate what the woman behind her would want to do next. Would she like it if Hermione took the initiative? She would have to find out through trial and error.
She lifted her hands slowly as she had found a purpose for them, for Bellatrix still wore her luxurious boots. Which covered her toes, feet and shins, to her knees. The dark dragon skin gleamed in the glow of the fire that crackled in the fireplace.
Nothing happened when Hermione placed her fingers gently on the boot on her right. Well, she did feel Bellatrix' fingers slip through her curls and settle in her neck anew, but they did not move otherwise. Just a lingering touch, to make clear that Bellatrix was still in control of everything. The slightest hitch could end with nails dug deep in the skin of Hermione's neck.
Slowly the younger woman loosened the laces all the way down of Bellatrix' shoe, then she slipped her fingers between porcelain skin and the dark leather and carefully helped Bellatrix' foot out of it. Thereafter she put Bellatrix' foot on her lap and turned her attention to the other. However, the stretching and curling of the toes from the foot in her lap made Hermione smile and she paused in her ministrations to watch as Bellatrix circled her foot to loosen the stiffness in her ankle. As Hermione paused she felt the fingers in her neck stir, but nothing else followed. However, it was enough to remind Hermione of the task at hand and soon two naked feet lay in her lap. The boots had been banished to stand near the fire.
Bellatrix hummed in content as Hermione started to caress the ankles and shins on either side of her. She was always gentle and sweet with all her touches in regards to Bellatrix. Who could be cruel and harsh in return, yet there was often something else as well. Something barely hidden in Bellatrix' glances, in the lingering touches. A soft undertone to each command, or a warmth that had taken root after nails or teeth had left their marks.
Shudders danced over Hermione's spine at the memories, which did not go unnoticed. Bellatrix leaned forward, her mouth near Hermione's ear as she purred her question, "Such a well-behaved Mudblood." She played with her nails over sensitive skin, scratched Hermione's scalp as she spoke once more, her whispers promised, "Sit up, want to have you on your hands and knees again."
As she said this the older woman gave a push against one of Hermione's shoulder blades who toppled forward and landed on her hands. From the swish of cloth Hermione knew Bellatrix had left the couch and was standing somewhere behind her, but without the sound of Bellatrix' heels on the wooden floor it was impossible for Hermione to have a precise idea of where she was. Though she knew better than to look sideways over her shoulder. Her own breathing was all she heard, the drum of her heartbeat seemed to grow louder in her ears with every few passing seconds.
Suddenly hands grabbed the back of her dress and dragged her a metre away from the sofa. The wood bit in her knees and the palms of her hands. Hermione clenched her jaws upon one another, a frown settled on her features as she kept silent. She did not deign to give Bellatrix the satisfaction of hearing her frustration.
It was a mere second that she stood still on her new place when the rip of cotton registered in Hermione's ears, and with a gasp of surprise she realized that Bellatrix had ripped the back of her summer dress in two.
"Tsk, tsk, Muddy, such a dirty mind. Not a single sign of wearing undergarments," Bellatrix chuckled with glee, and with one nail she traced her Mudblood's spine. "You haven't been wearing knickers all this time. Or maybe you did not wear them out of fear for ruining them?" The older woman snickered again. Though the humour was soon lost and with a soft tap of her foot against the insides of Hermione's thighs Bellatrix said, "Wider, Muddymine. And bow down."
Hermione did as she was asked. First, she spread her legs, whilst she tried to keep her knees from hurting too much. Then she lowered her face and chest towards the floor. She rested her cheek against the wood and tried to see Bellatrix from the corners of her eyes, but she could only catch glimpses of wild ebony curls. Meanwhile, her hands went upwards as if she reached for something to hold on to. Though she knew there was nothing other than the floorboards.
Every movement she made was with a certain fluidity, an allure, a promise. Bellatrix was weak for displays of feminine grace and Hermione had begun to enjoy giving the older woman what she wanted a very long time ago.
Another rustle of linen announced Bellatrix' movements and soon Hermione felt the warmth from Bellatrix' body, it curled around her. The older woman's hands were almost restless in their search for feminine curves. It was not difficult for the hands to sneak underneath the ripped fabric of Hermione's dress. They skimmed over naked flesh. One took hold of a breast whilst the other circled in the curve of Hermione's waist and over her stomach.
The younger woman bit down on her bottom lip, stilling the whimpers that wanted to spill unbiddenly from her lips. All the while her fingers flexed, trying to get some kind of grip on something, but to no avail. She felt both her nipples harden at all the stimuli and the throb between her legs worsened.
Hermione closed her eyes, her other senses becoming that much more pronounced. She could hear Bellatrix' shallow breathing, ragged and husky with arousal. Bellatrix' breasts pressed against Hermione's back, the corset-like dress was more for show than anything else. And the way Bellatrix nipped at her skin made her squirm. Teeth bit, then Bellatrix pulled at the flesh, only to let it go and lick at the sore spot directly after.
By now the younger woman was panting, her thighs had begun to shake and she felt like going cross-eyed from the pain and pleasure combined in her body. Hermione wanted to move, to circle in Bellatrix' arms and face the older woman, instead of this... position. But she knew better than to do that.
Despite herself, Hermione whimpered and squirmed for her torturer, her match, her...
"No, please, no," it came out almost as a sob. Echoes from a past long gone. Tendrils of negativity were momentarily hooked to the words, but before Hermione knew what had happened the feeling was gone again. The name that followed brought her warmth. It whispered from within her chest, carried more to it than merely sound. "Bellatrix."
It was rewarded with a tweak of one of her nipples, it hurt. And in her neck, brown curls were carefully swept aside, the gentlest of kisses was planted. It softened the pain. Just before it was administrated anew.
Without any kind of warning Bellatrix entered her with two fingers, the shock of it made Hermione gasp. Followed closely with a pained whimper.
"So wet," Bellatrix whispered teasingly with glee, "all for me. Only for me." Hermione felt Bellatrix' teeth against her shoulder and could practically see her self-satisfied grin in her mind's eye. The fact alone brought a whole different kind of pleasure to the pain, it bloomed in Hermione's chest and spread tingles to the ends of her fingers and toes.
Though when Bellatrix curled the two fingers inside her Hermione stiffened, for the nails dug painfully in her sensitive flesh. She stopped breathing, opened her eyes wide, but she saw nothing. The pain was currently too intense. Her punishment.
It made the older woman snicker, Hermione felt Bellatrix' shoulders shake with the joy of it. She could not see the humour in it and clenched her jaws upon one another, to keep herself from pleading for mercy. Hermione would rather bite her own tongue off.
The younger woman listened half-heartedly as Bellatrix began to murmur an incantation. Only when the two fingers were uncurled and removed did Hermione start to breathe once more. Bellatrix gave it no heed, her concentration wholly focussed on the spell. Her murmur slowly grew into a growl, and as it did Hermione realized what was happening. The realisation made an extra shot of adrenaline crash through her system.
Before long Hermione felt a growing hardness press through the fabric of Bellatrix' dress and against one of her thighs, a moan slipped from her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut and she licked her lips. The prospect of what was to come made her unconsciously try to widen her legs even further apart.
Her willingness coaxed Bellatrix to pant the last of the incantations, the growl afterwards hinted to the younger woman that it was not a painless transfiguration. A rustle of linen followed and for a moment there was not a single contact between the two women, Hermione felt bereft of Bellatrix' warmth and whimpered piteously.
Then a hand gripped her hip tightly, with this renewed contact it almost felt like Bellatrix' fingers made her flesh burn. A thrill went through her body and settled in her core. One which was answered immediately as Bellatrix penetrated her. Hermione groaned incoherent murmurs, which were joined by Bellatrix' hiss of pleasure.
When Bellatrix' other hand settled on her hip and gripped her tightly a slow phase was set. The first dozen thrusts were accompanied by grunts from the older woman, which made Hermione suspect that it had been too early, that this brought more pain for Bellatrix than pleasure. All the same, it felt so good to have her inside, to be this intimate with her.
When the grunts lessened and ultimately ceased the phase became faster, the thrusts deeper. Nails dug in her hips and Hermione became vaguely aware that Bellatrix started to bite and nibble at the skin of her shoulders again. But she had a hard time concentrating.
As the thrusts continued to become harder and deeper, she tried to arch her back even more, to accommodate to Bellatrix' needs. But high-pitched whimpers escaped from between Hermione's lips nonetheless, for it started to become too painful for her.
Bellatrix snarled as a response and bit down in the crook of Hermione's shoulder and neck, yet, at the same time, her phase became less frantic. Her hands eased their iron grip on Hermione's hips, and with one she even began to gently caress Hermione's waist and the side of her chest. Though all the while Bellatrix still bit her shoulder, there would be marks left for some time.
Hermione realized they were much like a lion with his lioness whilst mating, a reference Bellatrix would never want to hear, with her disdain for the Gryffindor house.
Teeth let go of flesh, though Bellatrix' mouth lingered near Hermione's ear and she easily discerned Bellatrix' panting from all the other noises that filled the air. It was her undoing, she was dripping and her inner walls tightened around Bellatrix. Gasps came with her halting breath, each thrust spurred her vocal chords on. Her thighs - no, her whole body - shuddered from the exertion it costed her to stay in this position for her lover.
The older woman moaned at hearing Hermione's noises and feeling her body's ecstasy. She sped up her pace, these last thrusts slightly harder despite earlier complaints and then Bellatrix had her own release. She came silently, though her breathing sounded choked.
Hermione's moans were practically purred as she felt Bellatrix' warmth spread inside her. And she felt her inner walls clench around Bellatrix anew. Shudders travelled over her spine, for her body was barely able to keep going like this.
It was probably this which alerted the older woman. For Bellatrix planted both her hands on the ground, one on each of Hermione's sides, and, between her breaths, Bellatrix began to murmur the counter incantations; to reverse the transfiguration of her womanhood. Whilst the older woman hovered above her Hermione slowly returned from her euphoric high.
There were no indications of pain this time, to Hermione's relieve. She would never like the idea of Bellatrix suffering.
A flash of a memory, but it was only there for a milli-second, far too short to see anything of meaning other than a green glow. And it was amidst the same feelings, another glimpse at what had been; forlorn and miserable. Confused loneliness lingered for a few more seconds within Hermione, then the sensations of her current pastime overruled it all once more.
One of Bellatrix' hand laid gently on the small of her back, pressed her downwards. "Lay down, Muddymine."
And as the younger woman did she was not surprised to feel pillows underneath her, which had certainly not been there before. The moment she laid down the tension in her body lessened, though the burning in some of her muscles was momentarily worse. A second later and her whole being was wrapped in the warmth of Bellatrix' body, who had laid down atop of her.
Both women were still breathing heavily, neither one had any desire to move. Hermione hummed contently as she felt arms wrap around her waist. She reached over her shoulder, behind her, to tangle her fingers in ebony curls.
Whilst the lovers laid there, regaining their senses, Hermione relived the last hour with a luscious smile on her lips. Her eyes closed.
A bang echoed thorough the house as the front door was thrown open and smashed against the wall.
The sound had a Pavlovian effect on Hermione, for adrenaline shot at once through her system. Hermione's head perked up from the book she had been reading and she turned in her seat on the couch to look at the study's closed door. Though without waiting for any other sounds to come from downstairs she stood up, walked towards the door and onto the landing. Her book was unceremoniously left without a marker between the pages, utterly forgotten.
Without making a single sound she closed the door behind her and padded on her bare feet to the top of the stairs to peer down into the hall. Though not a shadow was disrupted in the house, dawn was only just breaking through and the open front door did not enable a lot of light to spill inside.
Still, Hermione's shoulders were tense as she walked down the stairs, one hand on the bannister. She took several steps away from the stairs and stood in the middle of the hall. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Her eyes tried to find, but nothing kept them settled for long.
Then from behind, she spoke. "I am back, Muddykins," Bellatrix crooned, "Missed me?"
Both the word on her underarm and her womanhood throbbed in response. Hermione spun around and did not hesitate to take a step closer to the older woman. Infuriatingly close, yet not touching. She had found what she had been searching for and did not avert her eyes. Hermione recognized that crazed glint in Bellatrix' dark pools and the tone in her voice did not go unnoticed either. For a moment Hermione leaned forward and ghosted her lips onto those of the older woman.
"I suggest you start running, little mouse." And that is what Hermione did.
"Boo," Bellatrix murmured softly, her voice filled with a gentleness that always came after. As she spoke the one-syllable word her lips brushed against the shell of Hermione's ear. And the combination of Bellatrix' sultry voice, her breath on Hermione's skin accompanied with the feel of those lips made the butterflies in her stomach go wild again, they had rampaged through the darkest parts of her being all this time.
Hermione felt a throb built between her legs anew, but right now there were more pressing matters that needed her attention. She turned her head to the left so that she could see Bellatrix' face from the corners of her eyes, dark eyes stared back at her. After a soft faux gasp, she whispered hoarsely, "I am shocked senselessly."
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, said nothing and buried her nose into brown curls. She inhaled slowly and deeply, filling her lungs with Hermione's scent.
This made Hermione's desire for gentle gestures explode inside her. She had a craving for Bellatrix' lips, to feel them on her own. The younger woman squirmed a little and felt Bellatrix' hold on her tighten. She looked over her shoulder anew and saw that a frown had appeared on her face. Though the disapproving glower disappeared when Hermione spoke in the softest of whispers in a pleading voice, "Bellatrix, let me turn around, please. I want to see you, kiss you."
Bellatrix did not comply at once, instead, she bit Hermione's neck hard enough to make her squeak. Though, like before, Hermione felt how she tenderly licked the patch of skin that she had just bitten. The younger woman looked over her shoulder again and saw that Bellatrix inspected her handiwork with a Cheshire-cat grin on her face. Hermione really wanted - needed - to kiss those lips.
The moment Hermione felt Bellatrix' arms loosen around her she wanted to circle around, but she was bereft of Bellatrix' whole body. For the older woman had pushed herself up and away, all in a swift movement.
Hermione sat up, the tatters of her dress fell down her shoulders, and on the pillows and floor around her. Meanwhile, she watched with longing as Bellatrix wandered off in the direction of the fireplace, there was a sway to her hips that was far too enticing. Bellatrix was silhouetted against the light of the fire, still, there was not a detail that went unnoticed by Hermione as she watched how the older woman undid herself from her black garments. Pieces of clothing had become a path for Hermione to follow.
When the younger woman blinked, she saw something else in the darkness behind her eyelids. Red which coloured patches of her clothes, the liquid trailed down her arm, hand and fingers, it pooled at her feet. Blood.
All this was in a split-second.
Before her Bellatrix had laid herself down onto the bearskin rug. She laid on her side, her head propped on the palm of one hand. The heated stare from underneath hooded eyes brought renewed tension in the air. Hermione made the first movement to crawl towards the older woman, though hesitation made her halt. She looked questioningly into two dark pools, searched for something.
The corners of Bellatrix' lips curled upwards, then she stretched out one arm and beckoned Hermione with her index finger. Her mouth opened and Hermione knew that Bellatrix said something, saw her lips move, yet all she heard was chaos. Suddenly noises of battle rushed through the air, though Hermione heard it as if there was still a wall of glass which separated them and the clamour. It was gone the moment Bellatrix' lips had stopped moving.
Hermione blinked several times, unlike before unease and fear lingered in her bones. There seemed to come chaos, dark shadows, at the edges of her vision, but whenever she looked there were none.
"Muddy, come here. Now." Bellatrix' voice had hardened, a glare darkened her face.
Hermione, gripped by a fear to lose this woman to an unknown force, scrambled on her hands and knees. And as she closed the distance she never took her eyes away from Bellatrix' face, whose colour was drained from her face the closer Hermione came. To her horror Bellatrix' posture sagged and she fell on her back. When she had reached her Hermione threw caution to the wind and she touched Bellatrix' cheeks.
A lump formed itself inside her throat, her lips moved to say Bellatrix' name over and over again, but no sound came from her throat. Her hands trembled as she gently cradled Bellatrix' face in her palms, she caressed stray ebony curls away with her numb fingers. But when her eyes locked on once black pools, she was now confronted with glassy unseeing eyes.
The woman awoke with a gasp, eyes opened wide in shock and unbelieve. All sorts of emotions rushed through her being. No slivers of sleep lingered in the corners of her eyes. Her breath came in shallow in- and exhales. Cold sweat covered her whole body and her racing heart drummed against her ribcage. Then, slowly, she grew aware of the burning pain from the word etched long ago in her underarm. Every letter throbbed to the rhythm of her heartbeat as if it had been sliced into her arm anew mere seconds ago.
A sound from the deepest parts of her being threatened to part from her vocal chords. She covered her mouth with a hand and stared at the ceiling, whilst she tried to take deeper breaths through her nose.
After a while she propped herself up on the elbow of her other arm and looked at the person lying next to her. Viktor's face was turned towards her, his features were relaxed and his long dark hair splayed over his pillow; a few wavy strands danced over his cheek. One of his arms was loosely draped over her waist, his other arm shoved underneath his pillow. His eyes were closed, his mouth only the slightest bit open; he was still fast asleep.
Liquid started to gather in her eyes, pain no longer only burned in her arm. For tendrils brought back what had just taken place... What had felt so incredibly real in her subconscious... With a person so utterly different than her husband. Bellatrix.
With careful movements, Hermione extracted herself from the loving arm of Viktor. All the while one hand still covered her mouth, for she did not trust herself to keep the sobs at bay otherwise. Her other hand she laid on the small swelling of her belly, unaware of doing it herself.
She found her way effortlessly through the darkened house. The path had been ingrained into her memory within the first few months that Viktor and she had moved in; the need for nightly wandering was a regularity for Hermione. Unbeknownst to all the people she held dear.
Only when she was inside the walls of her own study did the woman use magic, wards were erected and the room was silenced; no living being outside her safe haven would hear her nor suspect her presence.
The moment she felt the wards settle around her she gave way to the pain that was bottled up inside her.
Hermione staggered into an armchair and pressed her face against the hateful word, one she felt connected to with her whole being. She did not care about the increasing pain she caused for herself. Tears smeared down her cheeks as sobs racked through her body. Like a mantra, the same words fell from Hermione's lips as her mind was drowned with the few memories she had of Bellatrix.
I am yours.
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