warning for hints of rape and violence

Wc: 157


With her nose still turned up in the air, Bellatrix looked down at Hermione in disgust. Hermione was sprawled on her back on the cold stone floor, her warm blood pooling around her, her hair splayed around her head in a circle and her limbs out in a sort of star shape.

Bellatrix observed all of this with a grin. What did she expect, honestly? Did Hermione expect to be all right after Bellatrix was done with her? Perhaps that was why the girl came into the torture chamber defiantly, with that unique spark still in her eyes.

Now that Hermione lay there, conquered, Bellatrix wanted her even more. Bellatrix licked her lips as she thought about what she would do to Hermione, how she would spell away every garment that separated their skin, how Hermione would sink between her thighs and kiss her with bruised lips.

"My angel," she whispered into Hermione's ear. "My sweet disappointment."