Be warned, this chapter deals with some dark topics. There will be light though, eventually.
Enjoy and leave a review if you find the time.
np
Just like every second Saturday of a month, the sounds coming from the Shrieking Shack horrified the inhabitants of cozy little Hogsmeade. They would of course never dare to approach the old abandoned house atop of the small hill but the moans and groans, paired with the incessant howling of the wind, were making their fantasies run wild. Madame Rosmerta, owner and barmaid of the 'Three Broomsticks', had even whispered to some of her guests that she believed the ghosts that haunted the house were holding a Black Sabbath of some kind every second week. Madame Rosmerta's idea was one of the less adventurous…
However, if one would dare risk a look into the ruined building – hypothetically of course because of the barred windows – they would be in for the surprise of their life.
Yes, there was moaning and groaning as well as a great deal of sighing. But the inhabitants of Hogsmeade couldn't have been more wrong with their assumptions.
Inside of the Shrieking Shack, in a room on the first floor of the house that had obviously been a bedroom, dozens of candles were lit, giving off a warm glow. The old four-poster bed had been repaired and painted, the dark red bedding was new and made of a silky satin, and a soft bearskin covered part of the floor, a floor that was… clean.
And the noises the people of Hogsmeade were listening to with bated breath and worried frowns were a direct result of the lovemaking taking place atop the new linens.
In the soft glow of the candles, two bodies were moving together to a rhythm only they knew. A drop of sweat was running down between pale shoulders as fingernails dug into them, leaving behind marks on the unmarred flesh. Long curls were tickling the supple breasts of a blonde woman whose lips were latched onto the neck of the brunette on top of her. Both women each had a hand trapped between the other's thighs, working their magic with their long fingers, eliciting sounds of pleasure and desire. Soon, both of them fell over the edge, together, their walls clenching around their lover's digits in sweet release.
The two women panted and struggled a while to regain their breath. Finally, the blonde extracted her hand and slowly trailed her tongue over the wet fingers, her icy blues holding her young lover's gaze.
The brunette's breath hitched as she watched the intimate scene, her heartbeat accelerating and her stomach tingling. Remembering her own fingers still buried in the blonde's wet heat, she gently pulled them out, although not without mischievously wriggling them against the tightly clenched walls, drawing out a moan from the woman still lying beneath her. She smiled and rolled off of her, immediately missing the way their bodies had been pressed against each other. She propped herself up on her side and studied the form of her lover in the warm candlelight.
"Are you staring at me?" the blonde raised a brow in silent challenge, smirking at the young woman resting beside her.
"I might be," the brunette admitted, not even trying to hide her deep admiration.
"Hmm," the older woman reached out and trailed her index finger over a flushed cheek. Then, all of a sudden, she let her hand fall onto the mattress, her expression growing serious. "I know we've said it several times before, but this time I mean it. We really have to stop, Hermione."
Hermione's face fell and she covered the fallen hand with one of her own. "I don't want to."
"Now you sound like a petulant child, not like the brightest witch of your age," the blonde chuckled but it was not a happy sound. It sounded… sarcastic. "You know we can't go on like this. We both knew so from the start. This is not love, Hermione. This is…" The blonde broke off, uncertain of what 'this' actually was. Of what they were. They had crossed too many boundaries to know.
"I know it's not. I know it won't last forever – it can't," Hermione eventually agreed, albeit with a saddened tone. "But I enjoy this. Us. I don't want to lose you, Narcissa. Not just yet. There's a war just around the corner and who knows if we'll even make it out of it alive. Even if we do, everything will change…"
Narcissa laughed bitterly. "Don't you think I don't know that? It is exactly the reason why none of this should have ever happened."
"You- do you regret it?" Hermione asked, feeling a painful sting in her heart at the thought.
"No!" Narcissa was fast to reassure Hermione, unable to see those deep brown eyes so sad. "No, Hermione, I don't. I have no regrets. I… I enjoyed our time together – more than you will ever know – and I've looked forward to these nights… But it has to end now. It has to. The war… There is no way for me to change sides. Not anymore. My family needs me strong and focused. Your friends need you, Hermione. I- even if this means our defeat and probably even death… I wish you the best of luck, Hermione Granger. I know you can do it and I hope you will." Narcissa Malfoy leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the Gryffindor's lips, holding it until the need to breathe started to overwhelm her. "Goodbye, Hermione."
And before Hermione could hold her back, the blonde pureblood had magically dressed herself and disappeared on the spot.
Hermione stayed in the Shrieking Shack for another hour before she managed to pull herself together. She got to her feet and made her way into the tunnel that would lead her to the Whomping Willow, back to Hogwarts. She felt empty and abandoned, a coldness settling over her that she'd never felt before.
She'd always known that this 'relationship' between her and the Malfoy matriarch was doomed from the start, that it would have to end sooner or later. She'd thought that when the time came she'd be able to handle it; after all, this was only sex, no strings attached. But somehow, strings HAD formed and were now binding her to the woman she couldn't have. The woman who had been easily able to end things and leave her behind.
Hermione crawled out of the hidden entrance between the roots of the Whomping Willow and quickly covered as much ground as she could before the vicious tree came back to life. The moon was already high in the night sky and she couldn't suppress a shiver as it reminded her of that fateful night almost three years ago.
About 3 years ago, at the Quidditch World Cup
"Hermione!" Her friends' cries were echoing through the woods but she couldn't make out the direction they were coming from. In the panic that had gripped hundreds of people after seeing the Dark Mark sharply contrasting against the otherwise beautiful night sky, Hermione had been separated from Harry, Ron, and his family.
She had darted off into the woods, not knowing where else to go, and was currently cowering behind the trunk of a tree.
"Hermione!"
She shivered in her shorts and top, both from the fear and the cold. Herself and the boys had just changed into their pyjamas after the last Quidditch game when Mr. Weasley had barged into the tent, telling them to hurry up and come with him.
"Hermione!"
She wished the boys weren't calling for her so loudly. Hearing their voices was somewhat relieving, but more than that it was frightening her. Because the death eaters who heard them would know without a doubt that they'd been separated and that she had to be around somewhere, alone and vulnerable. It was only a matter of time until one of them found her.
She couldn't even follow the thought to its end. Because walking towards her was a slender woman with platinum blonde hair and pale skin. She was missing the typical death eater mask but Hermione found it rather fitting that she of all people didn't wear one. A Malfoy was way too arrogant to mask their face in their moment of triumph. The woman's wand was pointed straight at her and Hermione gulped in apprehension. She was about to die, there was no doubt in her mind. If only she hadn't lost her wand in the panicked crowd! At least then, she wouldn't die like a lamb in the slaughterhouse.
"Avada Kedavra!" Narcissa Malfoy's voice rang through the trees and echoed back from the thick underbrush. A green jet of light rushed towards Hermione and she squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaping her eye at the knowledge of what was to come.
"Ms. Granger," a warm hand settled on her shoulder, making her open her eyes in confusion.
She… She was still in the woods. Narcissa Malfoy was squatted down in front of her, her blue eyes staring at her. She- she wasn't dead?
"Ms. Granger," the blonde witch said the words with emphasis now, trying to get her out of her stupor. "Your friends should be here any moment now. Do not tell them what has happened – don't tell anyone about this." The older woman pushed a thin object into her hand and Hermione's fingers automatically wrapped themselves around it, recognizing it as her wand before her mind did. "You should be safe now." Mrs. Malfoy gave her shoulder a short squeeze and apparated away. Obviously she either didn't care about the law and the fact that one needed a portkey for inter-country apparition; or, being a Malfoy... maybe she actually had a special permission.
"Hermione!" Harry reached her and pulled his friend to her feet, engulfing her in a tight hug, Ron awkwardly coming to a stop next to them, scratching his head. "We were so worried after we'd lost you in the crowd." Harry Potter let go of her and gasped as his eyes fell onto something, or rather someone, right behind her.
Hermione turned around and saw the unmoving death eater, knowing without a doubt that he was dead. The curse that she'd been so sure was meant for her had gotten him right in the chest; a faint green glow was emanating from his skin.
"Blimey! Hermione did you kill that guy?" Ron looked equal parts amazed and shocked.
"I uhm- no, I didn't," Hermione shook her head, about to explain what had happened. "It was… I didn't see who did it..." She remembered that Narcissa Malfoy had told her to keep quiet and did just that. It was scarcely repayment for saving her life but it was a start.
"There you are!" Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory came running towards them, Cedric in tow.
Arthur Weasley immediately took in the scene and crouched down low beside the deatheater's body, examining his chest before he pulled the mask from his face. The dead man was in his early thirties and had dark brown hair. His jaw was strong and his blue eyes were wide open. He had been rather handsome. Mr. Weasley knew that the appearance was deceiving.
"Rendall Ark," he muttered under his breath. "Who killed him?"
"When we found Hermione he was already dead," his son explained. "She didn't see the person who killed him."
Mr. Weasley nodded to himself. "Well, whoever it was, we all owe them more than a simple 'thank you'. Ark was well known to the ministry. Everyone only called him the 'Muggle Desecrator'…"
Hermione shuddered at the thought about what might've given the man his nickname. She was sure to look him up as soon as she was back at Hogwarts and could peruse the library.
Hermione hurried back to Gryffindor tower, suddenly feeling uneasy about being outside of the castle. It was dumb – especially because she was securely hidden under Harry's invisibility cloak – but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched that the old memory had brought forth.
She tiptoed into the boys' dormitory and shrugged off the cloak, placing it back into Harry's chest. Tonight had probably been the last time she'd 'borrowed' it… Quietly, she sneaked back out and into the girls' dorm, unaware of Ron's eyes on her back, following her out of the room.
NBHGNBHGNBHGNBHGNBHGNBHGNBHGNBHG
The manor was eerily silent when Narcissa appeared in front of the fireplace in her own personal study. She didn't move and just listened to the silence for a minute, trying to hear something she didn't want to hear. Ever since the Dark Lord had taken up residence in their home, screams of pain and desperate pleas echoed off the walls at every hour of the day or night. Their absence was so unusual, that the blonde couldn't help but feel wary.
Carefully, she opened the door of her study and took in the deserted hallway. She stood there for another moment before she finally stepped out, ready to return to the bedroom she'd shared with Lucius. Lucius had been taken to Azkaban almost six months ago and she would be lying if she said she missed his presence. However, it wasn't long after his involuntary 'departure' when another man had stepped up to take his place. Bella had been jealous of her and told her to feel honored when she'd come crying to her room one late February night. She hadn't talked to anyone about it ever since.
She'd despised the 'lovemaking' with Lucius for reasons like not being in love with him or the fact that he liked to take her from behind, showing her where her place was… She'd thought it to be a burden…
She hadn't known then what it meant to be the Dark Lord's favorite plaything. The snake-like wizard was a cruel, a harsh man. His desire rose as her screams rose in volume, as her struggle rose in strength and despair. He pulled her hair until her head started to bleed from hundreds of little red dots. He choked her neck until she was a mere second from passing out. He pounded into her until she thought her insides would rupture under the violent onslaught.
Narcissa dragged herself up the staircase and sat down on her bed, rubbing her temples. When it had gotten too much for her to bear, she'd gone to a safe haven with her mind, to Hermione. The meetings with her had helped her stay sane, stay alive. Her touches had had a cleansing effect on her body and mind, wiping away the lingering traces of HIM.
She'd always known that their affair couldn't last forever, no matter how much part of her wished for just that. Hermione was her only escape. But there hadn't been another possibility. The Dark Lord's interest in her had become more and more during the last weeks. He hadn't touched her in almost a month now but he would often summon her and she was certain she was being followed during the day. If they ever found her with Hermione or he saw the girl in her thoughts even through the walls of her Occlumency… She didn't even want to think about it.
"Ah, Cissy, there you are," Bellatrix came into her room, looking her sister up and down. "You're already dressed… who told you?"
"I-"
"It doesn't matter now. Come downstairs with me, our guests are about to arrive in about five minutes."
Wondering whom her sister was referring to with 'guests', Narcissa followed her until they stood in the Dark Lord's makeshift throne room, their former ballroom. Apart from them, only McNair, Greyback, and the Dark Lord himself were present.
She didn't have to wait long for their guests to arrive and had to hold back a gasp as she immediately recognized one of them.
AN: Sooo, what do you think? Should I continue? Who could be the 'guests'?