Pairing - BellatrixHermione

Warning - Smut, fairly graphic at that.

AN - I'm not sure if I'm terrified at the fact that I wrote this, or proud of the fact I wrote this. It's perhaps a mix of the two. Either way, I hope you enjoy, and if you are under the age of eighteen, please heed the warning and don't read.

Domination

You're drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and in this case, that is so true it makes you laugh. She could burn you so badly you might never recover from it. You don't care. You can't stop. You don't want to stop. So why should you even try and fight it?

It was unexpected the first time you felt it. You were warned before you entered her room that she could try something. It's her way of trying to gain control over her captors, they told you. It worked on the healer treating her before you. That is why you are here. It was decided that with the history you share with her, you are the least likely to fall for her seduction. They couldn't have been more wrong.

She caressed your skin, light touches that tickled as much as they taunted. You batted her hands away as you carried out her weekly physical exam, keeping your thoughts strictly professional as your eyes moved over her marred skin. She bore the marks of a battle hardened warrior and whilst you fought on opposite sides of the same war, you have a healthy amount of respect for the woman before you. After all, she was a part of making you who you are.

Each time you enter her room you can feel the tension building inside of you, a terrifying mix of fear and desire. You tell yourself that she cannot harm you. She cannot do magic, she has suppressant bracelets on both of her wrists, and has no access to magic infused knives. You refuse to acknowledge that she can hurt you in other ways than physical because that is not why you are here. She shouldn't have any power over you, she is a prisoner, you are a healer. This is strictly business.

At least, that is what you tell yourself.

The weeks pass and each time you see her, she tests you further and further, each time worse than the time previous. Her fingers graze your thighs as you lean close to her. Her lips whisper against your fingers as you check her teeth. Ironically, it is her hands dancing over the scar she gave you that caused your control to snap.

She smirks at you when your eyes meet her and her hand rises to your neck as she smashes your lips down on hers. You could try and fight for dominance of the kiss but in this, it would be a pointless act. You are at her mercy and you both know it. So you surrender to her completely. In this, you are hers and only hers and you will enjoy having her possess you so firmly.

Her hands move over your breasts, and she is done being gentle with you. She twists on your nipple even as she swallows the moan you let out at the pleasurable pain. She bites your lower lip and you can taste the metallic tang that tells you she has drawn your blood. She is pulling at the skirt you wear, and you shift, allowing her hand to slide under it enough to pull it up to your waist.

She is hard and she is rough and it is wonderful as she slides first one and then another finger into you, her thumb playing firmly at your clit, pushing and circling around it as you plead for more. She has reduced you to a begging whimpering mess but you don't care because she is invoking feelings in you that you have never experienced before and it is only getting stronger with each passing movement, each passing second.

She devours your neck with her teeth and her tongue as you make noises you didn't even know existed. You are so close, so close to the oblivion her actions are promising you. So close that you can almost taste it. She gets faster and harder, and you loose track of everything but the pleasure that is growing inside you and then it explodes and you know nothing.

You are limp. Lifeless. Exhausted.

She is smug. Smirking. Exhilarated.

You move as soon as the feeling returns to your limbs and you are straightening your blouse and skirts, gathering your notes and refusing to meet her eyes with your own. You will be fired for your actions, you fear. You will be exiled when the Wizarding public find out just how wanton she made you with just a few flicks of her fingers.

"Hmm, you taste...divine," she tells you, licking her fingers clean of your juices. This is the first time you have heard her voice since before the end of the war and it is different to how you remember. It is quiet but demanding, velvety and seductive, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise. Desire for her is still coursing through you, and the sound of her voice makes it spike again.

"See you next week, Healer Granger," she murmurs, and you cannot tell her that you won't see her because you are going to be fired. You leave her room and head for the staff room where you are sure your bosses will be waiting for you.

They aren't, and you finish your shift in a daze.

You are called in three days later and you are sure this is it. This is the end of the life you've worked so hard for.

"Ah, Hermione, it's good to see you," says Healer Spiller when you enter. He gestures to a seat in front of his desk and you sit down on the edge, hands on your knees, preparing yourself for the blow that will surely come.

"Healer Spiller," you reply quietly.

"How are things down at the Mental Medical Care Unit?" he asks, leaning on his desk with a friendly smile.

"Everything is fine, thank you Sir."

"Marvellous news, Hermione. Now, I am sure you are wondering why I called you here?"

"Yes Sir."

"Ah, well you see, Healer Attaway has put in for retirement, and we've been discussing who would be the best candidate for Head Healer over at the Mental Med Unit. Your name seems to have come up a lot in conversation."

"My name, Sir?"

"Yes, Hermione. We want to make you Head Healer. Is that something you would be happy about?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you very much."

And so you got away with it. And you know now, if you are the boss, you can get away with it again, and again. Of course, you try and resist the urge to see her again, but you have to give her her physical. You cannot allow anyone else to do it. You cannot... As much as she dominated you, she is yours to enjoy. She is waiting for you with sparkling eyes, taunting you as you close the door behind you. You have barely reached the bed when her hands are on you, stroking and scratching at your bare skin.

Again, you submit to her, because what else are you to do. She is your weakness, and you can't deny her her pleasure. You cannot deny yourself the pleasure you know she will bring you. And why would you want to? There is something about her that draws you too her, and as she sucks at the skin she herself carved Mudblood into, you wonder if you will ever be able to give her up now that she's had you.