Hermione/Bellatrix
That was fun, so here is some more:)
Deadlands. II.
When Bellatrix awoke, two things registered rather quickly. The first, was that her right hand was shackled to the bed’s headboard. The second, was that her left hand was shackled to the bedside table. It did not necessarily concern her. She had expected something of the sort from Hermione. Her headboard was made of a twisted wood gathered by memory from a riverbank like the one where she had discussed the circumstances of her death with Tonks, her murdered niece. Tonks had forgiven Bellatrix, which seemed fine at the time, entangled in that dreamscape, but absurd now, back in this world.
Bellatrix nudged the sheet aside with her nose and looked to her window over the world. Well, over London, at least. Something flew in the air outside, tweaking her memories. The color was purple today. And the strange little jolts of blue were increasing in intensity. They were tinged in powder blue with electric insides.
“do you see that?” Bellatrix asked quietly. She sensed Hermione somewhere behind her.
Hermione grunted her disapproval at being asked a question under such circumstances. But she was a terrible villainess and curiosity always won out.
“The sparks.” Bellatrix continued. “They began three moons ago. They jolt people. Muggles, I mean. Jolt them and make them do terrible things. I won’t describe those things to you now, but I will say that an entire group of people, all being jolted at once, watched as a man did terrible things to another, in the middle of the streets of London. They watched and did nothing. He was practically lit up with blue.” She tested her shackles with a silent spell and nearly hummed her own disapproval. Hermione really didn’t put her heart into doing terrible things. It made life dangerous for the girl. “Now listen.” Bellatrix turned over at once, the shackles now undone.
Hermione leapt off the chair and backed against the wall, her wand drawn. She wore nothing but a pair of rolled up jeans and a pale orange bra. Bellatrix swallowed desire at the sight. She avoided glancing at the wand that lay inches from her head, tucked into the wall. It would not do, to scare Hermione any more than she was already scared.
“Now look.” Bellatrix cleared her throat and gestured to her hands which she held above her head. She uttered a chant clearly and concisely, knowing that Hermione was gifted enough to catch it all. Her hands were instantly done up again, only much more firmly this time. Much more firmly. Bellatrix wiggled her hands and smiled.
“you are an odd creature.” Hermione whispered. Her eyes darted to the new ties on Bellatrix’s wrists. A material she had never seen before, wove through wooden threads which were smaller versions of the ones on Bellatrix’s bed. They appeared to be a new signature in her magic, whether conscious or not. “What is that?” Hermione pointed to the other mysterious material.
Bellatrix smiled at her curiosity. She felt the stirrings of something at it. Something which she might have called affection, at one time. Or maybe it was caring. Or, perhaps, it was lust. Well, of that one she was certain. She rubbed her thighs together and looked at Hermione’s bared torso.
“Bellatrix!” Hermione scolded, reaching down to pull a t-shirt on. Still, she bit her lower lip and did not seem entirely disinterested. Her own eyes roamed as well. But she quickly shook her head and rethought it. “I have to go. Before I do, I wish you would answer some questions for me. Why have you returned, for one? Who did you see when you were on the other side? Is there still…business, that you must attend to, for your old…” She stumbled with her words. “your…old group…family…whatever…” The anxiety was returning. Hermione could only lean over and take deep breaths, her hands clenched into fists.
“Come here.” Bellatrix begged. “I won’t hurt you.” She rattled her restraints. “Actually,” And then there was dawning realization on her face. “I cannot quite recall the spell to release these.”
Hermione choked on laughter, but still, her breathing was shallow and rapid. She did move closer but only perched on the side of the bed.
“I don’t know why I’m here.” Bellatrix began. She watched as Hermione curled up at her feet, one wary eye still upon her shackled hands. “When I died, I was pulled to a place where I was forced to deal with certain things. Not just the things that I had done, but the things that I had felt. Or had not felt, I should say. I did speak with Tonks and oddly enough, she had already forgiven me by my arrival.”
“Did she make you call her Tonks?” Hermione asked. Her voice was calmer now, which relieved them both. She still took shallow breaths though.
“yes.” Bellatrix replied. “Oh, and this may interest you. I spoke with Sirius. He was slightly less forgiving, but perhaps it was because Tonks had called him from some important business in whatever parts he prefers to occupy. Tonks, for her part, prefers to spend her time now near a long and winding river. She made me trace my steps back to the time when I first met…you know who.” She was at least going to be sensitive on that particular topic. “Sirius wanted to know something about…the methods that had led to my, shall we say, particular brand of madness.”
“Are you still mad?” Hermione interrupted.
“Oh yes, quite.” Bellatrix shrugged but winced when her shoulders cramped from the stupid things on her wrists. She was growing weary of them but really would have to remove the entire bed to remove herself. “In a different way than before. I do not understand things that I never understood. Only this life around, I do not understand in less terrible ways.”
“Good lord.” Hermione’s mouth fell open. “What do you even mean by that?” Had she given herself, for her first time, to someone utterly insane? Well, she already knew the answer to that. She most certainly had. And now, Bellatrix was reminding her of a fully grown Luna Lovegood. She sat up, now calm and looked Bellatrix over again. The sheet had fallen and Bellatrix’s breasts were revealed, which did not seem to embarrass the other woman. Hermione could not interrogate someone in such a vulnerable state and so adjusted the sheet. She noted, not for the first time, that Bellatrix’s looks had softened. Her teeth were whitened. Her face seemed fuller, as though her skin had lifted. Hermione smirked and said. “You’ve given yourself the magical version of what the Muggles call plastic surgery.” Her hand unconsciously reached out and began to stroke Bellatrix’s ankle.
“yes, well.” Bellatrix squirmed again. Any touch from the younger woman seemed to set her off. The ache between her legs was growing. She licked her upper lip. “I used to be quite beautiful. I came back almost as I had been, before. Before…you know. All of it.”
“Before Tom?” Hermione sensed that this was the name Bellatrix wanted to use. She watched the slow nod that confirmed her words. “what did he do to you?”
“Killed parts of my mind, I suspect, as Sirius also voiced.” Bellatrix gasped as Hermione’s hands strayed higher up her calves and the backs of her knees. “Killed parts of me in order to keep the other parts controlled. I was quite good, at seeing things that he could not. At seeing ahead of things. He needed those parts of me to be quieted. The best parts, I suppose.” That was it, the realization at last. The colors in the air were things yet to come.
She whined suddenly as Hermione’s hands parted her legs and as the younger woman settled between them, kneeling while she splayed her fingers against Bellatrix’s thighs.
Bellatrix shook her hands against her restraints. She seemed to grow terrified. “Please.” She gasped. “Please don’t hurt me in the ways you might. With me, in this state.” She would rather be murdered, on the spot.
“I won’t. I wouldn’t.” Hermione soothed her with a hand on each side of Bellatrix’s face. “If you want me to stop, at any time, just say ‘butterbeer’.”
Bellatrix burst into relieved laughter which turned to a groan when Hermione’s mouth dipped against her center, licking gently, seemingly to enjoy the taste of her. When Bellatrix reached orgasm, she snapped her restraints off the backboard, though they remained on her wrists. She panted while Hermione moved away from her, wiping moisture from her chin.
“We’ll have to do something about that, later.” Hermione spoke as she backed away.
Bellatrix nodded in all seriousness, and wound her shackled hands around Hermione’s back, kissing her neck gently. She quickly found herself on the floor, Hermione’s fingers deep within her.
Afterward, Hermione tried to leave again, but Bellatrix conjured an enormous bathtub and a table of food. She had fun then, bending Hermione over the tub, arching one finger into her from behind while the water sloshed around them.
Just as evening fell, Hermione attempted to leave again. She yawned and half-heartedly dressed in front of the window.
“They can’t see in, right?” She asked of Bellatrix, who also dressed, though just in a short black dress, with no underwear on. Hermione was actually a bit sore, but the dress evoked a ridiculous amount of desire yet again. She sighed, feeling a bit frazzled about it all.
“No, they cannot.” Bellatrix joined her at the window where they stood and looked at a group of teenaged Muggles throwing something at a cat.
“What are they doing?” Hermione gasped.
“Throwing darts, I believe.” Bellatrix replied. Her eyebrows furrowed as Hermione began to cry. “I’m so sorry, my darling.” She had just called her that and Hermione had seemed to have a strange emotional reaction to it. It worked again this time, and Hermione leaned against her, letting Bellatrix stroke her arm.
“What’s happening?” Hermione asked quietly.
Bellatrix chose not to answer, just yet. She had only suspicions, not solid answers.
Hermione left, shortly after, and did not return for far too many Moons.
********
Bellatrix had not known loneliness as she knew it after Hermione left.
She sat by the window, watching the air, watching the movements of the eerie pink sky. Someone obviously thought the color pink to be soothing. But it did not cheer people, whatever this new magic was. It made everything feel anxious and strange.
Bellatrix changed her appearance, more than once, and walked among the crowds of tourists and Londoners alike. She hoped to find Hermione, to see her for only a moment. She did this more than once, to no avail. Finally, she let her mind’s eye relax, and found what she needed.
One night, she saw posters for a concert that she knew most Muggles would attend. A Lady who called herself baby sounds. Very strange. Bellatrix looked around her and planned an outfit according to the styles of those who looked most enthusiastic about the concert. She conjured a leather ensemble not unlike the black dresses and corsets she once favored. Her hair darkened. Once she realized how much she looked as she once had, she switched her hair to a lighter shade and placed pink streaks. Inside her flat, family members in picture frames muttered their amusement.
Luck was with her. Or perhaps it was foresight. Bellatrix somehow knew exactly where to walk, on the night of the concert. She did not sit in her assigned seat but wandered until she found Hermione.
Bellatrix did not expect to see Harry Potter with her.
“I can’t believe you dragged me to this.” He was huffing about, placing his wand in each ear to create small plugs. Hermione had obviously convinced him to dress for the event, and he wore black leather pants and a blue tank top. A number of attractive men were looking Harry over, which seemed to bother him only a little.
Bellatrix smiled at the sight of Hermione. Her hair was longer. Her stature even more confident. Her shoulders looked delicious as did her neck. The moment Bellatrix imagined herself kissing the younger woman there, Hermione’s back straightened and she looked around.
Bellatrix stared straight ahead. Her disguise was a good one, it confused Hermione. But then dawning realization spread across Hermione’s features. Bellatrix squeaked and glanced at her before shooting out of the seat she occupied temporarily, and walking quickly home.
It was forever and a day before Bellatrix heard the sound of the heavy metal door, sliding open. She had been sitting in her living room for months. Hermione had left her there, furious at her own lack of will power, angry that she had let the woman who had once harmed her so badly, fuck her repeatedly.
Months without. Without touch. Without care. Her cheeks were wet when she stood to meet Hermione.
And then there was that furious kissing again, and Bellatrix melted, and her cheeks grew wetter. Hermione breathed hard against her, grasping Bellatrix’s face in her hands, pulling away to lick her lips with the tip of her tongue before kissing her deeply again.
Without words even being exchanged, their clothes were flung about the bedroom. Hermione pulled away briefly at one point and spoke at last, just as Bellatrix had begun to kiss her breasts.
“You still…” Hermione gasped as a nipple was sucked wetly into Bellatrix’s mouth. She clasped darker, wavier hair than she recalled Bellatrix having the last time she saw her, and tugged her mouth over to the other side. Her breasts received rough but wonderful treatment. “You still…” She tried again. “Have those restraints on!” she began to laugh as Bellatrix nodded against her belly before lifting Hermione to the bed.
“do you want me tied up again?” Bellatrix asked.
Hermione shook her head and ran her hands over Bellatrix’s nipples. “No, not now anyway. Maybe later.” She grinned wickedly at some thought in her head.
Hermione still did not know what this thing was. She seemed to be trying to figure it out. Her eyes were open as their lips met.
She also seemed angry. Which did not surprise Bellatrix in the least.
********
Later, they lay by the window, on a couch that Hermione fashioned from a small pillow. She made the couch as long and wide as needed for the length of their bodies curved together.
“You know,” Bellatrix was propped on one elbow, her free hand winding through Hermione’s hair. “You’re awfully adventurous for someone who…” She faltered. She was about to assume, aloud, that she was Hermione’s only lover.
She was, but Hermione would not yet admit it. Instead, the younger woman replied, with a smirk, “I’ve just got an active imagination.” It had been nearly a year between their meetings, and Hermione’s active imagination had left her wanting Bellatrix immensely. She couldn’t help herself. There was something that drew her to Bellatrix, even in thought.
Outside, a shower of blue rained down suddenly. The wave was joined by a sound in the air. Like too many cars and voices and high pitched calls, all together.
“What is it this time?” Hermione whispered.
“Large scale attack.” Bellatrix replied frankly. She started, surprised when Hermione turned over to look at her square in the eye. “I think,” Bellatrix continued, “that those who once blurred the line between good and…well, whatever it was that I was…are blurring the line again.”
“Why are you back?” Hermione asked for the second time.
Bellatrix considered the question for a long time. She looked down at her hand which seemed to have drawn warmth from where it rested on Hermione’s hip. The skin furthest from Hermione was still cool, grey almost. Her voice cracked when she answered:
“I’m not sure that I really am back, as it turns out…”