Day 3 of Hermione's captivity
Bellatrix shook Hermione awake, her fingernails digging into the girl's shoulder. "Mudblood. Get up." She held out a cup of green liquid.
Hermione blinked the hour of restless sleep and nightmares away. Lost hope bled the color from her eyes, and Bellatrix's torture had reduced her to an aching mass of scars and bruises.
"Drink this," the witch ordered. Hermione felt her nasal passages constricting. She opened her mouth to gasp for air and had the mysterious liquid tossed down her throat. It burned on the way down, but reduced the stabbing pain to an almost bearable, consistent throbbing.
"Restoration Potion."
Hermione swallowed. "Why don't you just kill me?"
"The Dark Lord values you. He knows you'll break. You're an invaluable source for information, and will help us achieve total victory sooner or later," she breathed.
Bellatrix's black eyes took on a light sheen as she drank in the possibility of her deranged fantasy world coming to life. Hermione took a deep breath, shot down any doubts in her own ability, and summoned her considerable willpower and newfound energy into one thought.
"Legilimens!"
She'd never tried to cast without a wand before, and the spell was rather ineffective. This particular magic, though, could be honed through mental strength. Getting something was better than nothing, and so, as if she was gazing through prison bars, Hermione glimpsed chinks of Bellatrix's past.
Bellatrix stirring to life in an unfamiliar bed, biting her lip to keep from asking aloud why Tom had left her there so early in the morning. Bellatrix unable to conjure a Patronus to keep the dementors at bay. Bellatrix…
The image flickered. Hermione shifted her focus to self defense, preparing for…
"CRUCIO!" Bellatrix screamed, jabbing her wand in the young witch's face. Hermione crashed heavily into a wall.
"I can make you feel worse, you know," she panted through the blinding pain.
"CRUCIO!"
"D'you know his mother…"
"CRUCIO!"
"Is like me? He's not pureblood," she gasped before completely collapsing.
"You lie!" Bellatrix shrieked, her eyes bulging. "Your words are as filthy as your blood. You will regret your insolence." She flicked her wand out like a dagger. "Clever girl."
Hermione gulped, ready to throw herself sideways in a vain effort to dodge another curse. But nothing came.
"I see quite a bit of me in you," Bellatrix continued, her cloak swishing along the ground as she approached the girl.
Hermione laughed, or, more accurately, gave a short bark.
"Like what, exactly?"
"Cleverness. And…" Bellatrix walked over to Hermione and ran a long finger along a visible vein in her arm. "A bit of Slytherin is in every Gryffindor. Though you stash it away, there is a thirst, a lust, for greatness."
Hermione answered with silence, because what could Bellatrix draw from nothing?
Apparently, a lot.
"So you don't deny it? That it would hurt to be forever seen as little more than the nerd, to forever play second fiddle to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, that you crave full and total…" She ran her fingers along the side of Hermione's face and down her seated frame, all the way down her jeans. "Appreciation?"
The young witch closed her eyes, avoiding Bellatrix's hungry gaze. "No." She gritted her teeth, creating a makeshift barrier against the whispered words, but she'd already started to enjoy their taste and how they wormed around her brain. Three years ago…what if people had given her some of the praise they'd so lavishly heaped on Harry upon his completion of the first task? She wouldn't have asked for more than Professor Flitwick squeaking excitedly, "Spot on job teaching Harry that Summoning Charm, Ms. Granger!" It wasn't so bad, to want a tiny patch of the spotlight shining on her, was it? And there had been the Yule Ball…warming up through the frosty glares of girls who'd lost their dates' gazes to her before the night had even begun. And she hadn't had to say a word. That type of power was…well, shallow, but delightful to revel in every once in a while.
"Tell me I'm wrong, mudblood," Bellatrix commanded. "Tell me I'm wrong about you."
Hermione fixed her with a glare she'd previously reserved for Rita Skeeter but didn't open her mouth, refusing to rise to the bait.
"Do as I say."
"You're wrong."
WHAP!
"You bitch. You dare to presume you know better than me?" the Death Eater answered testily, happy to exploit Hermione's fall into her painful paradox. "And now I just dirtied myself, touching your mudblood skin…oh, you will pay for that. CRUCIO!"
She craved more of the Restoration Potion, but wouldn't be reduced to begging.
Bellatrix followed her gaze to the empty cup. "Does the mudblood want more? Is she not strong enough to play with Bella?" She tilted her face close to Hermione's, looking for all the world like a caring, eccentrically dressed aunt caring for her sick niece. "Do you want Bella to make you feel better?"
Hermione screwed up her courage. "Go to hell."
The older witch gave a twisted smile. "Already been there. Funny thing, surviving Azkaban…dementors stick in your soul. You, like them, wish to have total power over others," she breathed, her mouth very near Hermione's ear. "Tell me you've never wanted that kind of control."
She got halfway done with her headshake and stopped it. Was denying Bellatrix's statement really worth suffering another Cruciatus Curse?
"Ooh, you have, then," Bellatrix simpered, relishing the silence. "C'mon then, you can tell me about your desire," she purred, her sickeningly sweet voice reminding Hermione of Umbridge. "It can be our secret."
Hermione didn't want to give the Death Eater a leg up into her psychology. The physical torture was enough. Lending her a key to mental anguish would be the height of stupidity.
Bellatrix smirked. "Cat got your tongue? Here, maybe I can coax it out for you." With that, she kissed Hermione on her slightly opened mouth.
It was soft. Very soft, unlike what she'd been expecting (if she'd expected a kiss from Bellatrix, that is). She found herself gripping the older woman's hands, squeezing the life out of them. She'd assumed her skin would feel like rough and crinkly, like ancient parchment or a frail quill, but Bellatrix's flesh, like her kiss, was warm and gentle. It exuded a quiet passion, very different (and, she couldn't help but note, much better than) the sloppy, tongue infested kisses Ron so clumsily delivered.
Day old bread and the Restoration Potion from earlier that morning churned in her stomach and threatened to reappear in an altogether unpleasant form on the floor. Hermione's face screwed up as she pulled back and bumped her head on the wall. She'd…they'd just…
"You're ashamed. Revolted. Shocked. And wanting more." Bellatrix analyzed, punctuating each observation with a quick peck.
"Get away!" Hermione failed to extricate her hands from Bellatrix's.
The older witch grinned. "You don't really mean that, do you?" She continued, "Your body's betraying you. Prefers pleasure to pain. So keep kissing me." And Hermione did, unconsciously. Given the circumstances, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action. One more kiss was hardly as bad as torture…and she had enjoyed it, so why not take one more? Of course, the "you can't have too much of a good thing" line of thought was terrible and ultimately destructive, but…
"Isn't this nice?" Bellatrix asked, connecting her mind and mouth with Hermione's once again. "No torture. No worries. No thinking. No…" A smirk played on her mouth. "Well, I can't say there's no tension. Just a better kind of it."
Hermione's disloyal hands shook as they grew much too close to the ruffled shoulders of Bellatrix's dress.
"You are eager to please. Have I mentioned you take after me, mudblood?" Bellatrix ran a hand through her messy hair.
"No," Hermione whispered, as if negating the remark would create a protective barrier.
That earned her another slap, although this one was light. "Don't insult my intelligence or my insight. You aren't as clever as I thought if you've never considered getting pleasure like this…" She rubbed a hand in the crotch of Hermione's jeans and elicited a slightly stifled moan from the girl. Bellatrix pulled away. "Does the mudblood want to have some fun?" Hermione began opening her mouth, but Bellatrix swept the potential answer away with her hand. "Don't bother answering. I'll let you figure that out for yourself. Let me know when you have an answer. I'll be back in about half an hour." She smirked and walked away from the girl, throwing a subtle shimmy into her hips as she left.
"N-Ye-" Total confusion, a previously foreign sensation, overwhelmed Hermione. She-she didn't, couldn't want Bellatrix, surely? But her greedy body ached for more, not caring who it used for precious pleasure. Her head spun. The physical torture was now assaulting her mental facilities, obviously. That was the only explanation for her behavior. And her body was a bit too pleased to receive a touch that wasn't intended to harm, that was all.
She rearranged her clothes and set her lips in a defiant line, steeling herself for Bellatrix's reappearance. Her breathing was even, and her head was screwed on straight.
She heard the footfalls of the woman's stiletto heels on the dungeon stairs. The Death Eater drew the oncoming torture out. From the sounds of it, she was discarding something in another small room…probably the dead body of someone who hadn't followed Voldemort's orders to the letter, or had spilled tea on his robe, or something like that.
The supposed corpse, Hermione found out just a few seconds later, was actually Bellatrix's dress. She was wearing nothing but a black lace corset and garters. The old witch's eyes grew wide as she approached Hermione, and the young girl looked away.
"Giving you a taste of your own medicine. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to stare?" Bellatrix demanded. "Though…it is flattering, rather than disgusting, since it's not coming from a man."
A few screws had come loose in Hermione's straight head, giving it a bit of leeway to bend. Why else would she find Bellatrix…attractive? Was there another reason her eyes kept roaming over her body? Looking for physical weaknesses to attack, she supposed…and there was quite a bit of exposed flesh to choose from.
"Got an answer to my question yet, mudblood?" she asked. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, and Bellatrix shot her with a Stinging Hex. "No. I want you to SHOW me your answer. A practical demonstration, if you will. And remember," she added, "there will be consequences to either choice."
Temporary insanity, surely brought on by the stress of torture, led Hermione to kiss her. Her body's inclination to please Bellatrix only existed because pleasing her meant less pain. The logic made Hermione's hands grasp Bellatrix's shoulders, pull her in closer.
"Oh, you missed me! Isn't that sweet?" Bellatrix murmured.
"N-no," Hermione shook her head.
"So you wouldn't enjoy it if I, say…" Bellatrix kissed Hermione a bit harder and eventually eased her tongue into her mouth. Where Ron rushed, as though kissing was a timed exercise, Bellatrix lingered, savoring the intricacies of fresh goosebumps on her arms and the taste of someone else's saliva sliding around her gums. She broke it off, and Hermione leaned forward, tongue still wanting to play, eyes still half closed. "Did that?"
She had to be normal, had to resist. "No."
"Crucio!" Bellatrix snarled. The curse held less venom than its many predecessors. "Stop lying, filth. The answer is staring me in the face. Your red face, your racing pulse, your shining eyes. Tell me the truth!" she commanded, before burying her face in the nape of Hermione's neck, driving her prisoner crazy with a flurry of kisses and tongue flicks.
She cracked when Bellatrix softly pulled aside the collar of her hoodie to gain access to her collarbone. The quietly intrusive gesture got to her. A hushed whisper. "Yes."
Bellatrix looked up, eyes glowing. "Yes, what? Address me properly," she demanded.
"Yes, Bellatrix." A shiver rippled through her body as she readied herself for the witch's worst…or best. Then again, this was Bellatrix Lestrange. Those two things were probably interchangeable.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Bellatrix whispered into her ear. "And now that you're a willing participant…" she unzipped Hermione's hoodie and tugged at the sleeves of her shirt. "It's time you learned my definition of fun."
The two spent what seemed like hours kissing, and Hermione became increasingly bolder with her touches. Bellatrix flipped her top off and found, to her dismay, she rather liked the mud blood's body. She frowned. Driving herself mad with lust had not been part of the plan.
Slowly, with limbs tangled and lips locked, the pair maneuvered themselves on to the cot. Bellatrix straddled Hermione, her bucking hips acting as gasoline to the fire between Hermione's legs.
"Like it, mudblood?" she panted as her hands ran circuits up and down her captor's body.
Hermione pulled Bellatrix into a deliciously filthy kiss and arched her hips up, pleading for release. The Death Eater could live with the mudblood's touches now. The contact meant she was getting addicted.
"Good girl, learning how to talk without words." Bellatrix rewarded her, unbuttoning her jeans, delighting in how the girl squirmed, desperate for friction. She slid Hermione's jeans down her legs and began playing with her pet.
Hermione's breath came in jagged gasps as Bellatrix's mouth heightened her pleasure. "Mmmm…God…yesss…" she hissed. She'd played with herself here and there (she was nearly eighteen, for crying out loud!), but the current sensations obliterated her previous, rudimentary conceptions of pleasure. Her fingers traced circles around her hard nipples, her abdomen refused to stop contracting, her hips continued thrashing, forever moving forward, trying to get Bellatrix's tongue even deeper inside her. She repeated the witch's name over and over in a fevered whisper as if it were an incantation. "Bella…Bella…Bella.."
The witch instinctively slid her fingers in between her own legs and felt wet. She…she wasn't getting turned on by this filthy slut, was she? She pushed those thoughts aside, content to continue torturing the mudblood with sex. "Yes…you need me, you crave me," she whispered. The witch nodded as her eyes rolled back in her head. And with that assertion, Bellatrix got wetter, topless, and on top of Hermione. Her alabaster skin burned into Hermione's weather hardened flesh, and her actions left her wondering who really was filthier: The girl or herself.
After it was over, she retrieved her clothes, got dressed, and tossed Hermione's wand on the floor next to the bed. "Here. Get going once you're presentable, mudblood."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Err…"
"I did what I set out to do," Bellatrix smirked. "You are…" She pointed her wand at Hermione's arm, and a single word burned into her forearm. "Mine." She hissed. "And you will be, til you repay your debt."
"I am, am I?" Hermione demanded, snatching up her wand, pointing it at the Death Eater's heart.
Bella cackled. "You really think you're going to do it? Go on then, have a go."
The sparks in Hermione's eyes died. She faltered. Bellatrix cackled again. "Nice thing, having total control over someone." With a crack, she vanished.
She reappeared again, right behind Wormtail. "Imperio," she whispered. He wheeled around, regarding Bellatrix with a blank stare.
"You are to inform the Dark Lord that the mudblood girl escaped under your watch, but not before I placed her under an Imperius Curse. Understand?" she asked.
He nodded dumbly. Bellatrix apparated back downstairs, quite glad to find the dungeon of Malfoy Manor deserted.
Hermione Granger was in her debt, and she'd just sent Wormtail to his grave, so Bellatrix Lestrange made her way to the kitchen for a much deserved Firewhiskey.