Fic: The Downfallen and the Ascendant
Written for Nonconathon.
Title: The Downfallen and the Ascendant
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Pansy/Hermione, Bellatrix/Hermione
Word Count: 1,656
Summary: Voldemort won AU. Pansy keeps visiting Malfoy Manor not for Draco's company but for the chance to witness Hermione's humiliation at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Warnings: non-con, fisting, forced orgasm
Her relationship with Draco had died slowly in Sixth Year before it had ever really gotten the chance to bloom. They both knew it, but they continued going through the motions. Despite the fact that the Dark Lord had won, Draco seemed as haunted and quietly miserable as if he’d been on the losing side. Pansy kept visiting him at Malfoy Manor only as a pretext to observe his aunt Bellatrix and Hermione Granger.
Hermione should have been killed off during the clean up after the Dark Lord killed Harry Potter, like most of the rest of the traitors and undesirables, but Bellatrix Lestrange had asked for her and received her as a.... Trophy? Slave? Pansy wasn’t sure what exactly they considered Hermione’s legal status to be, but the reality was she was Bellatrix’s toy.
Sometimes Bellatrix dressed her in fanciful costumes, but today she was completely naked. Well, almost. There was a thick iron collar around her neck. Pansy knew that the spells that rendered her unable to attempt resistance or escape were modelled on the same compulsions that enslaved house-elves, that there was no need for bonds or collars. But Bellatrix seemed to enjoy the look of them, and Pansy had to admit it was a stirring sight.
She sipped her tea and continued staring at Hermione, who, after the initial glare she’d shot Pansy, seemed to be trying to ignore her. Pansy wanted to taunt her, but she knew better than to mess with Bellatrix’s property.
Last time she’d been here, Hermione’s arms had been bound behind her back, wrist-to-elbow and elbow-to-wrist, and she’d been hobbled by a short chain connecting the shackles around her ankles. But she seemed more miserable today than she’d been then. Pansy could see no immediate cause for her misery, which made her very curious.
“What has your aunt been doing to the mudblood today?” she asked Draco.
Draco shrugged.
Pansy had wondered how he could be indifferent to having a front row view of Hermione Granger getting what she deserved. But she now suspected it was worse than that, that Draco was upset by it, that he felt sorry for Hermione. She hadn’t voiced her suspicions yet, though.
Bellatrix swept into the room and dropped into an armchair with a sigh. “Bloody Fenrir. His kind is just as undesirable as mudbloods.”
She beckoned to Hermione, who went to her and knelt at her feet.
“Now, where were we before I was interrupted, pet? How many was that?”
“Five,” Hermione answered dully.
“Yes, right. Let’s see how long it takes to reach number six.”
Bellatrix waved her wand in a complicated pattern and it began to emit a stream of blue light. The light arced towards Hermione. Pansy watched as the light moved over Hermione’s body like a multitude of hands grasping her. Caressing her, rather, judging from the sigh that escaped her and the way her nipples peaked into points.
The light streamed between her legs and delved into her holes. Hermione had her eyes shut and she was biting her lip, but her hips began to buck. She rocked back and forth in rhythm with the magic pulsing inside her. Pansy could only imagine how amazing it must feel. She’d ask Bellatrix to teach her the spell, so she could use it on herself, but she had a healthy fear of the woman.
“Ah ah ah ah,” Hermione panted. Her orgasm was building.
Pansy would have stopped before it hit. She would have brought Hermione back down from the high and started anew. If Hermione was hers to do with as she pleased, she’d push her to the brink of orgasm and pull her back again and again. She’d make her desperate to come. She’d make her beg for it. She’d make her cry.
Bellatrix, however, seemed pleased as they all watched Hermione shudder and twitch. “Six,” she said.
Pansy was envious upon realizing what it meant. Six orgasms already and it wasn’t even noon yet. Hermione didn’t deserve that kind of delight.
But Hermione knelt there with her head bowed, her bushy hair falling forward to further hide her face. Bellatrix seized a handful of hair and used it to force her to face them. She looked utterly humiliated.
“Potter never made you come like that, did he?” Bellatrix demanded.
Hermione didn’t reply, she just glared at her tormentor.
“Such ingratitude,” Bellatrix said. She slapped her casually.
Pansy would have had her robes up and Hermione’s face between her legs, but Bellatrix seemed unaffected. She put her foot on Hermione’s chest and pushed until Hermione fell unto her back.
“You’re going to have to work for the next one. Diddle yourself, mudblood.”
Hermione rose back onto her knees. “No,” she said defiantly.
Pansy heard Draco exhale audibly enough for it to be deemed a sigh. He tugged her arm. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”
“I want to watch.”
Bellatrix heard that. She turned to look at them and gave Pansy an approving nod. “Perhaps you’ll be a good influence, Pansy. My nephew is more tender-hearted than he ought to be.”
“How are you going to punish her?”
“Last time I put her in a full-body bind and left her overnight with a nice toy to keep her occupied. But obviously it was not an effective lesson and I must be harsher.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“Parkinson, you coward,” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re talking tough now, but you wanted to give Harry over to Voldemort because you were afraid. You’re afraid of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You’re afraid of her.”
Bellatrix slapped her hard. “Will you never learn? How dare you be disrespectful to my nephew’s guest?”
She turned to Pansy. “Would you like to see to her punishment, dear?”
“Yes, please,” Pansy answered eagerly.
Bellatrix conjured a set of leather straps that she used to bind Hermione’s arms behind her back, and then she shoved her towards Pansy.
Pansy pulled her into her lap. She admired the closeup view of her breasts and began groping them. She’d wanted to touch Hermione like this for much longer than she’d ever admit to. She grabbed a handful of her hair close to the scalp to help hold her in place and then she kissed her. Hermione didn’t kiss her back, not that Pansy expected her to. It was enough to suck on her lips and lick at her tongue and know that it was Hermione Granger she was kissing. Hermione Granger whose nipples she was pinching.
She forced Hermione’s thighs apart enough for her to get a hand between them. Hermione’s cunt was wonderfully wet and Pansy was easily able to slide two fingers into her. She added a third finger and then a fourth, until half her hand was inside her.
“Fuck yourself on my hand, Granger.”
“Fuck yourself, Parkinson.”
She couldn’t tolerate her speaking to her like that, certainly not in front of Bellatrix Lestrange. She had to do something that would not only put Hermione in her place, but impress Bellatrix too.
Pansy pried Hermione’s thighs further apart and began working the rest of her hand into her cunt. Once she’d gotten her whole hand in, she curled it into a ball and began fucking Hermione brutally. It was more intoxicating than her first butterbeer, dominating Hermione this way and knowing she was stretching her painfully, knowing her cunt would be left sore and she’d feel Pansy for days after.
Then she uncurled her fist. She used her other hand to twist Hermione’s nipples and she nibbled at her neck while she stroked her carefully from the inside.
“You’re going to come for me, Granger. I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to. I’m going to make you.”
What she was doing to her cunt had Hermione moaning, so when Pansy kissed her, her attempt to moan was almost like her kissing her back. It was a pity Hermione wasn’t broken enough to kiss her eagerly and a bigger pity that Pansy hadn’t mastered the Imperius Curse and couldn’t make her do it.
She wasn’t as certain as she pretended that she could force Hermione to orgasm, so she was relieved when she felt Hermione’s muscles spasming around her hand. She curled her hand back into a fist and fucked Hermione through her orgasm.
When Hermione had stopped shuddering and no more could be forced from her, Pansy pulled her hand out and wiped it clean in Hermione’s hair.
“She’s a good little fucktoy,” she said to Bellatrix, feigning casualness. “She’s clearly meant for it, she loves it.”
She desperately wanted to force Hermione’s head between her legs and make her eat her out. But she knew she’d make a better impression if she appeared unaffected. And she preferred that Hermione not know how much she wanted to have sex with her. Better she think that Pansy merely wanted to torture and humiliate her.
Bellatrix nodded to Pansy with a smile. “Where are your manners, mudblood?” she said to Hermione. “Thank Pansy for giving you such pleasure - unless you’d prefer some pain.”
Hermione said nothing. She had a stubborn look on her face.
Bellatrix grabbed her by her upper arm and hauled her out of Pansy’s lap. “I see it’s time for your daily round of the Cruciatus Curse.”
Much to Pansy’s disappointment, Bellatrix dragged Hermione away instead of conducting her punishment here in the drawing room.
She made conversation with Draco about their friends, gossiping about Blaise’s fling with a older witch he’d met on holiday and Millicent’s new job as an assistant to Dolores Umbridge at the Ministry. But Pansy’s mind was focused on calculating how soon she could visit again without her interest becoming transparent and what she would do to Hermione if given another chance at her. Perhaps she should inquire whether Bellatrix needed an assistant or if she would take on an apprentice.
Title: The Downfallen and the Ascendant
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Pansy/Hermione, Bellatrix/Hermione
Word Count: 1,656
Summary: Voldemort won AU. Pansy keeps visiting Malfoy Manor not for Draco's company but for the chance to witness Hermione's humiliation at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Warnings: non-con, fisting, forced orgasm
Her relationship with Draco had died slowly in Sixth Year before it had ever really gotten the chance to bloom. They both knew it, but they continued going through the motions. Despite the fact that the Dark Lord had won, Draco seemed as haunted and quietly miserable as if he’d been on the losing side. Pansy kept visiting him at Malfoy Manor only as a pretext to observe his aunt Bellatrix and Hermione Granger.
Hermione should have been killed off during the clean up after the Dark Lord killed Harry Potter, like most of the rest of the traitors and undesirables, but Bellatrix Lestrange had asked for her and received her as a.... Trophy? Slave? Pansy wasn’t sure what exactly they considered Hermione’s legal status to be, but the reality was she was Bellatrix’s toy.
Sometimes Bellatrix dressed her in fanciful costumes, but today she was completely naked. Well, almost. There was a thick iron collar around her neck. Pansy knew that the spells that rendered her unable to attempt resistance or escape were modelled on the same compulsions that enslaved house-elves, that there was no need for bonds or collars. But Bellatrix seemed to enjoy the look of them, and Pansy had to admit it was a stirring sight.
She sipped her tea and continued staring at Hermione, who, after the initial glare she’d shot Pansy, seemed to be trying to ignore her. Pansy wanted to taunt her, but she knew better than to mess with Bellatrix’s property.
Last time she’d been here, Hermione’s arms had been bound behind her back, wrist-to-elbow and elbow-to-wrist, and she’d been hobbled by a short chain connecting the shackles around her ankles. But she seemed more miserable today than she’d been then. Pansy could see no immediate cause for her misery, which made her very curious.
“What has your aunt been doing to the mudblood today?” she asked Draco.
Draco shrugged.
Pansy had wondered how he could be indifferent to having a front row view of Hermione Granger getting what she deserved. But she now suspected it was worse than that, that Draco was upset by it, that he felt sorry for Hermione. She hadn’t voiced her suspicions yet, though.
Bellatrix swept into the room and dropped into an armchair with a sigh. “Bloody Fenrir. His kind is just as undesirable as mudbloods.”
She beckoned to Hermione, who went to her and knelt at her feet.
“Now, where were we before I was interrupted, pet? How many was that?”
“Five,” Hermione answered dully.
“Yes, right. Let’s see how long it takes to reach number six.”
Bellatrix waved her wand in a complicated pattern and it began to emit a stream of blue light. The light arced towards Hermione. Pansy watched as the light moved over Hermione’s body like a multitude of hands grasping her. Caressing her, rather, judging from the sigh that escaped her and the way her nipples peaked into points.
The light streamed between her legs and delved into her holes. Hermione had her eyes shut and she was biting her lip, but her hips began to buck. She rocked back and forth in rhythm with the magic pulsing inside her. Pansy could only imagine how amazing it must feel. She’d ask Bellatrix to teach her the spell, so she could use it on herself, but she had a healthy fear of the woman.
“Ah ah ah ah,” Hermione panted. Her orgasm was building.
Pansy would have stopped before it hit. She would have brought Hermione back down from the high and started anew. If Hermione was hers to do with as she pleased, she’d push her to the brink of orgasm and pull her back again and again. She’d make her desperate to come. She’d make her beg for it. She’d make her cry.
Bellatrix, however, seemed pleased as they all watched Hermione shudder and twitch. “Six,” she said.
Pansy was envious upon realizing what it meant. Six orgasms already and it wasn’t even noon yet. Hermione didn’t deserve that kind of delight.
But Hermione knelt there with her head bowed, her bushy hair falling forward to further hide her face. Bellatrix seized a handful of hair and used it to force her to face them. She looked utterly humiliated.
“Potter never made you come like that, did he?” Bellatrix demanded.
Hermione didn’t reply, she just glared at her tormentor.
“Such ingratitude,” Bellatrix said. She slapped her casually.
Pansy would have had her robes up and Hermione’s face between her legs, but Bellatrix seemed unaffected. She put her foot on Hermione’s chest and pushed until Hermione fell unto her back.
“You’re going to have to work for the next one. Diddle yourself, mudblood.”
Hermione rose back onto her knees. “No,” she said defiantly.
Pansy heard Draco exhale audibly enough for it to be deemed a sigh. He tugged her arm. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”
“I want to watch.”
Bellatrix heard that. She turned to look at them and gave Pansy an approving nod. “Perhaps you’ll be a good influence, Pansy. My nephew is more tender-hearted than he ought to be.”
“How are you going to punish her?”
“Last time I put her in a full-body bind and left her overnight with a nice toy to keep her occupied. But obviously it was not an effective lesson and I must be harsher.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“Parkinson, you coward,” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re talking tough now, but you wanted to give Harry over to Voldemort because you were afraid. You’re afraid of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You’re afraid of her.”
Bellatrix slapped her hard. “Will you never learn? How dare you be disrespectful to my nephew’s guest?”
She turned to Pansy. “Would you like to see to her punishment, dear?”
“Yes, please,” Pansy answered eagerly.
Bellatrix conjured a set of leather straps that she used to bind Hermione’s arms behind her back, and then she shoved her towards Pansy.
Pansy pulled her into her lap. She admired the closeup view of her breasts and began groping them. She’d wanted to touch Hermione like this for much longer than she’d ever admit to. She grabbed a handful of her hair close to the scalp to help hold her in place and then she kissed her. Hermione didn’t kiss her back, not that Pansy expected her to. It was enough to suck on her lips and lick at her tongue and know that it was Hermione Granger she was kissing. Hermione Granger whose nipples she was pinching.
She forced Hermione’s thighs apart enough for her to get a hand between them. Hermione’s cunt was wonderfully wet and Pansy was easily able to slide two fingers into her. She added a third finger and then a fourth, until half her hand was inside her.
“Fuck yourself on my hand, Granger.”
“Fuck yourself, Parkinson.”
She couldn’t tolerate her speaking to her like that, certainly not in front of Bellatrix Lestrange. She had to do something that would not only put Hermione in her place, but impress Bellatrix too.
Pansy pried Hermione’s thighs further apart and began working the rest of her hand into her cunt. Once she’d gotten her whole hand in, she curled it into a ball and began fucking Hermione brutally. It was more intoxicating than her first butterbeer, dominating Hermione this way and knowing she was stretching her painfully, knowing her cunt would be left sore and she’d feel Pansy for days after.
Then she uncurled her fist. She used her other hand to twist Hermione’s nipples and she nibbled at her neck while she stroked her carefully from the inside.
“You’re going to come for me, Granger. I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to. I’m going to make you.”
What she was doing to her cunt had Hermione moaning, so when Pansy kissed her, her attempt to moan was almost like her kissing her back. It was a pity Hermione wasn’t broken enough to kiss her eagerly and a bigger pity that Pansy hadn’t mastered the Imperius Curse and couldn’t make her do it.
She wasn’t as certain as she pretended that she could force Hermione to orgasm, so she was relieved when she felt Hermione’s muscles spasming around her hand. She curled her hand back into a fist and fucked Hermione through her orgasm.
When Hermione had stopped shuddering and no more could be forced from her, Pansy pulled her hand out and wiped it clean in Hermione’s hair.
“She’s a good little fucktoy,” she said to Bellatrix, feigning casualness. “She’s clearly meant for it, she loves it.”
She desperately wanted to force Hermione’s head between her legs and make her eat her out. But she knew she’d make a better impression if she appeared unaffected. And she preferred that Hermione not know how much she wanted to have sex with her. Better she think that Pansy merely wanted to torture and humiliate her.
Bellatrix nodded to Pansy with a smile. “Where are your manners, mudblood?” she said to Hermione. “Thank Pansy for giving you such pleasure - unless you’d prefer some pain.”
Hermione said nothing. She had a stubborn look on her face.
Bellatrix grabbed her by her upper arm and hauled her out of Pansy’s lap. “I see it’s time for your daily round of the Cruciatus Curse.”
Much to Pansy’s disappointment, Bellatrix dragged Hermione away instead of conducting her punishment here in the drawing room.
She made conversation with Draco about their friends, gossiping about Blaise’s fling with a older witch he’d met on holiday and Millicent’s new job as an assistant to Dolores Umbridge at the Ministry. But Pansy’s mind was focused on calculating how soon she could visit again without her interest becoming transparent and what she would do to Hermione if given another chance at her. Perhaps she should inquire whether Bellatrix needed an assistant or if she would take on an apprentice.