A/N: It's been a year since I wrote my first anything in English. And if I was going to write anything, I wanted it to be a fanfic. I read this story a couple of days ago and thought: Oh, wow, this is kinda bad. So, I decided to write another chapter, just to see if I have improved in my writing or remained the same. Anyway, here it is.
"Now I understand why Bella is so attached to you." Soft lips grazed along her back, feathered touches that dissipated the lulled trance she was in. Tiny kisses peppered on her shoulder blades. "You are so annoyingly beautiful." The blue-eyed woman murmured on her ear as if she was sharing secret not meant to be echoed on the walls of the room.
Hermione opened her eyes, thinking how Bellatrix wasn't actually attached to her in any form. Yet, if she were to, the idea was somewhat appealing. To think that the eldest Black liked her, it gave her a twinge of hope and certainty among everything else in her life filled with uncertainty and hopelessness. "When is she coming?" She asked between the padded pillow and cover fisted under her chin.
"Why are you asking?" A lustful kiss was placed on her spine, followed by a small bite and chuckle. When the silence stretched, Narcissa added, "Oh my, don't tell me you miss her?" Avid hands reached for her hips, taking a fist of skin. Nails dug lightly into it.
"Do you miss her touch, perhaps? Do you like it better when she is the one on top of you?" There was an unfamiliar tone on Narcissa's voice. It sounded like giddiness or certain playfulness that despite her choice of words, couldn't be described as taunting. Perhaps the wine she drank previously, boosted her mood. No matter the reason, it was quite the change from the seriousness and sometimes harshness that normally her experiences with the woman were based on. The blonde has been in a pleasant mood today's morning and afternoon. And now, in bed, she was even more content and relaxed.
Hermione pressed her lips and hid her face between the pillow and cover under her chin. Did she miss Bellatrix? …No. There was only one thing she missed in her whole life: her freedom. She wanted her normal life back. Not that she ever was going get them back. She has been gradually resigning to her fate, especially right after this whole new affair began. And despite her life here wasn't as miserable as it was at the beginning, she ached for more. Anything that wasn't this. This was just too depressing.
Bellatrix made sure to teach her to not fight against this, and the more she rebelled the more the black-haired woman made her understand that she existed only for the woman's enjoyment. The last time she was in that burgundy room and met with the tar eyes looming above her, she rebelled against it. She fought with the body pressing on top, something for what Bellatrix punished her for it. Then, when she fought it a little more, the woman would smile at her. It was a satisfied smile as it was tainted with cruelty.
"Yesterday she sent me a letter." Said Narcissa, "If you answer my question, I'll let you know the contents of the letter." Her ear lobe was softly bitten by the blonde, sending chills all over her body. "So, tell me, do you like it better when she touches you? Better than my touch?" The mattress sank further as the body pressed behind her. Two soft pebbles caressed her exposed skin, a clear reminder of the previous activities.
Narcissa's touch was delicate, tender most of the time. These past days, since this sordid affair began, there have been two encounters where Narcissa treated her like a doll. As if she was made fine porcelain, one wrong touch and she would fall into pieces. And when it wasn't in the mood for delicate, the force she used, couldn't compare to the one Bellatrix used on her. The times when she was rough, the touch, more often than not, couldn't compare to her sister's ferocity.
Hermione turned around to face the curious woman. The flush of her cheeks was slowly dying, and the sweat on her forehead had dried up. "You are tender, I like it."
Bellatrix made her feel like a possession, a war trophy. Something that she deserved to have for all the service she gave to the Voldemort. With Narcissa, she felt something entirely different. She made her like something to be cherished and relished. To enjoy, to indulge, and to play with.
"I promised to never sully your flesh, didn't I?" One free ran across from her thighs to her chest, cupping one of her petite mounds. "The marks on your skin had almost faded." The sweet smell of wine still fresh lingered in Narcissa's breath.
Did she miss Bellatrix? …Not really.
"However, that doesn't answer my question."
The brunette frowned, why was the blonde woman so insisting in getting an answer out of her? Wasn't enough that she was here on her bed? Every night they spent it together like this, mornings too. Wasn't that enough? She didn't think her answer could truly influence anything. It made no difference which touch she preferred, because in the end, she didn't get to decide if she wanted to be touched or not. "Does it really matter?" she muttered timidly.
The young witch knew it was the wrong answer as soon as she faced her.
Narcissa's sky blue eyes adopted thundering gaze, the color darkened, like clouds filled with water. "Very well." One hand pinched the pebble between her fingers. Sending a dormant wave of arousal all over Hermione's body. When she opened her eyes again, Narcissa was already accommodating herself on top of her. One hand gripped her jaw and was forced to receive the aggressive kiss; avid tongue demanded entry. It was wet and messy, desperate and forceful. As if trying to state a claim. A claim that Hermione felt someone else had already taken.
"What it is that she does that makes wet?" The blonde woman murmured against her lips. "Or is she so barbaric that she fucks you dry?" Pale lips latched onto her neck, sucking and biting, smooth tongue drawn small circles on her jugular. "Does she open your legs?" The tip of her tongue tasted her lobule. "or you open them for her?" The brunette could almost hear the smile forming on thin lips. "I'll bet is the latter." Narcissa was so good at it. The stimulation on her neck always did the work; it sent enough moisture to her nether parts to begin these adult games promptly.
They kissed again, this time Hermione allowed the dizziness in her head drowned her senses, to focus only on the delicious sensations that this warm body brought to her. The kiss was languid, very sensual. Both women drank their moans as a battle of wills happened in their mouths. One knee forced its way into the girl's closed thighs, then another. Narcissa, surrounded by the girl's warm, reached with one hand to touch her heat. Her mouth stifled the girl's groan as one finger barely grazed her core.
"Does she bury her fingers on you first?" Long fingers teased, careful to not touch where she needed it the most. "Or do you get on your knees and service her?" The idea sent shivers to the young woman's whole body. She didn't know why, though. Was it because the image was embedded in her memory? Was it because she felt powerful when Bellatrix threw her head backward, barely able to hold back the moans her tongue and teeth provoked? Or perhaps it was because Narcissa was pulling her from the bed to do exactly just that.
The older woman chose to stand where the cheval mirror would provide them with the erotic reflection of having the young witch on her knees, with her face between her legs. "Is such a treat watching you like this." Her hand cupped Hermione's cheek, one thumb caressed her bone cheek. So soft, so tender, Hermione thought. Her attention slowly returned to the musky scent. Despite the little stimulation the blonde woman had received from the brunette, she was clearly in need. "So obedient, and ready." There was a hint of awe in that silky voice.
The moment the young woman opened a path with the tip of her nose, a sharp gasp filled the room. Her tongue tasted the salty moisture, readily began drinking from it. Her arms snaked around the woman's bottom, to ground the pelvis on its place. Narcissa reached for the bedpost, with the other hand she took hold of the girl's head. "I can't get enough…" A loud moan interrupted her loud thoughts. "…that mouth of yours."
The brunette's tongue ran up and down, trailing imaginary lines across rosy petals, leaving no corner from blonde's axis neglected. The bundle of nerves already begged for her undivided attention; the brunette made sure to give her enough of it. Narcissa's breathing was steadily increasing, with soft gasps and moans in between. Her nimble fingers prodded at the entrance when abruptly they were slapped away. "Don't! I want your mouth only." Commanded Narcissa. "Touch yourself, I want to see you." Hermione didn't hesitate and nested her hand between her legs as she returned to her task.
"Look at you, so beautiful." Said Narcissa as she looked at the mirror. Hermione didn't look, her eyes were closed, enjoying what her overheated senses were receiving. Besides, she didn't need to look, for she had seen it before. Bellatrix's mirror was wider. She modified it specifically just for that. It seemed to her that the Black sisters shared the same kink, or perhaps Narcissa was just discovering it herself.
"How often does Bella have you on your knees?" The older woman clenched her jaw as another wave of pleasure crashed on her body. "Does she have to force you on your knees, does she have to bind you? or do you readily drink from her sex as you are doing it for me?" Hermione wondered when was the last time Bellatrix forced her to do something? When she was truly forced, normally that involved Crucio, as well as tears and fear that came with the torture. It has been a long time since that. Now she just complied. Complying kept her safe, and allowed Bellatrix to remain as a docile viper. But Bellatrix liked to fight, docile not always worked. For the dark-haired woman loved conflict and confrontation, so Hermione gave her enough for her to release her dark desires onto her body with no dire consequences in the process.
The lower abdomen began to tense in short intervals, announcing that the woman was close. And so was she. She worked her fingers around her core as her lips latched into the most sensitive area of the blonde. Nobody knew who moaned first, only that one fed the other. Overlapping sounds of ecstasy soon reverberated in the room.
Narcissa's release arrived first. The moisture dripped from her chin; one drop traveled all across her neck and navel, mixing itself with the sweat gathered between her breasts. Hermione detached herself till the last pulse of the woman's sex came to an end. Her hand had stilled, her own need was still throbbing with desire. Her ears still rang from the woman's sharp moans and gasps.
Just a little more, she wasn't so far behind.
Suddenly, Narcissa took her by the arm and wordlessly urged her to stand up. Her mouth was covered by hungry lips. Those lips cleaned away all the remaining essence she had captured a moment ago. In an abrupt movement, the blonde turned her around. Forcing the brunette to look herself in the mirror as Narcissa hugged her from behind. "You haven't come, have you?" One hand moved aside her brown curls, so she could bite the tense muscle of her pale neck. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you." She whispered against her wet skin. Her breasts were squished as thumb and index played with the hardened pearls on top. One hand began to open a path over her wispy hairs.
"Don't close your eyes, or look away from the mirror, I'll stop if you do." The blonde woman warned her, Hermione simply nodded, unable to do anything else. Her throat was dry, and her brain couldn't form any coherent thoughts to form a word. The wetness she had lapping at a moment ago, was now rubbing on her behind. She tilted her neck to allow more space where the blonde could nip and suck. That tongue was divine.
The picture in the mirror was quite arousing; Narcissa touching her lasciviously, fingers running through her boiling core, as her free hand switched from one mound to another, never neglecting her pink pebbles for too long. Her own hands tangled on the golden mane, while the other snaked to secure their bodies stayed pressed.
Being like this, aroused many past experiences where Bellatrix had the leading role. When she was positioned just as she was, there would always be a foreigner object pushing inside her while the ex-lieutenant would furiously pump her hips to thrust into her. Sometimes, their bodies met themselves in the middle. Instead of moans, Bellatrix would grunt, and whisper into her nape, telling her how tight she was, and how good it felt to be inside her. Then she would bite her available skin; she bit till it hurt and bruised. She'd bit everywhere she could, her shoulders, the upper side of her spine, the side of her ribs. She would mark the brunette at every opportunity she had. 'So you never forget to whom you belong to, little bird.' Then she would cruelly smile while taking in the artwork on her body.
Hermione opened her eyes when the assault on her body had suddenly stopped. "Didn't I say to not close your eyes?" Blue-eyed search her narrowed brown eyes across the mirror. She felt so dizzy with pleasure.
"Please…" Hermione uttered, breathless, her throat slightly sore just now. Has she been shouting?
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, questioningly "Please what?"
Hermione twisted her neck to steal a kiss from the smug lips. The young woman wondered if the blonde could taste her own essence on her lips or had it faded as her consciousness did a few moments ago.
"Please fuck me. I want to cum on your fingers." The young woman saw the moment those stormy eyes filled with fresh arousal.
Narcissa abided her request, a renewed strength came from both of them. Her core ached for release, for the delicious waves that lasted eternal seconds. Seconds where her tendrils went haywire, sending electrical shocks all over her body. The blonde woman kept gazing at her, hungry, darkened eyes like a golden lioness about to hunt its prey. The ferocious look in those blue eyes brought her again to Bellatrix. Hermione imagined having Bellatrix behind instead of her golden counterpart. Where black unlike golden would shroud her shoulders, like a shadow hugging from behind, and alabaster arms would shine in the dimmed room, void-like darkness contrasting with pure white light. Dirty, nasty things would be whispered behind her ears. Praises couldn't feel so utterly humiliating as to when the eldest Black spoke them to her.
Unconsciously, Hermione searched in those piercing blue eyes a piece of Bellatrix. The Black blood that tied them together was elusive in mind and body, but at times they would manifest all together. Narcissa would adopt the same colored eyes as her sister if deeply aroused. Under this light, they seemed to share the same nose and chin. Their mind varied in degrees of darkness, cruelty, arrogance, lust, selfishness; the blonde woman almost matched the ones of her older sister when in bed.
Tonight, she saw her. She saw Bellatrix in the mirror, and as soon as her brain recognized her, her nerves exploded. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed tight, were her lips moving very lightly. After that, waves crashed from her heels to the crown her head. Her walls tighten around the woman's fingers, feeling the delicious pressure that came with it. The electric shocks made her knees feel like pudding. Before they gave up, she had enough brainpower to reach the side of the bed for support.
The satin sheets felt like a cooling balm for her overheated body. Gradually, as she came back from her high and recovered her conscience, the brunette felt the unexplainable shift in the atmosphere in the room. The second thing to notice was the absence of Narcissa's proximity. She saw the slender figure pouring herself from the second bottle of wine. From this angle she couldn't see her face.
After a few silent moments, the sound of glass hit with force on the table, confirming her original assumption. However, curiosity and sympathy weren't in the girl's mind. Hermione looked down at her sex, then her eyes scanned for a box of tissues so she could clean the residues still fresh on her inner legs. Her lower limbs, except for her feet, felt sore, and her neck was a little cramped after being tilted for that long. The idea of taking a bath to relax her muscles sounded so appealing by the second.
A subdued laugh came from her back; liquid was poured again into glass, again. Narcissa murmured something unintelligible under her breath, then more silence filled the room.
It was till Narcissa turned around when she talked to the young woman, "I thought you smarter than that, Granger." There was bitterness, and something close to disappointment. "Please don't tell me you have feelings for Bella?"
What? Where did that come from?
Hermione looked for the joke on the incredulous expression on Narcissa. Huffing at the ridiculous question, and too tired to engage in the woman's riddles. The brunette began to pick up her set of clothes from the chair. It was time to go. A drunk Narcissa wasn't fun, and while she didn't show display of being utterly drunk, she drank a bottle of wine all by herself no more than one hour ago.
"I don't know what you are talking about." She finally said.
Her clothes smelled of the blonde's perfume; sweet and fresh like a breeze coming from a snowy mountain all the way down to its skirts. It fitted her perfectly, unlike any of that intense perfumes that older women usually wore. Even her natural smell was erased by the woman's presence.
"You said her name." The accusation was as there, as it was the anger, but all behind a mask of indifference.
Did she? The brunette halted every movement of her body. She stood there, looking with mixed inherited guilt and confusion.
"Barely audible, but I heard it clearly. You said Bella." The woman visibly regretted taunting the girl with her sister's name. Her conviction was suddenly put into question. "You were truly thinking of her, did you?" A disgruntled smile formed on her lips, "She will get rid of you very soon, silly girl. That I can promise you." Narcissa looked her up and down, studying her, judging her. "I offered you a chance to keep you safe, and you still prefer her?" Whatever the young witch was feeling a moment ago, was quickly drained by the despotic look of contempt and superiority.
"What else do you want from me, Narcissa?" The frustration in her voice became tangible very fast. "I'm here, isn't that enough?" Hermione resumed her dressing routine, the last thing she wanted to do was start a discussion with an inebriated woman, who had probably misheard her uttering her sister's name.
"No is not." Narcissa reached for the young witch's arm, forcing her to turn around and fully face her. Cold hands firmly cupped her face. "Be mine. Not only in body." A demand, not a request.
Hermione averted the piercing blue gaze. The nerve of this woman! How dare she? How could she ask for more? The brunette had so little to give; nothing belonged to her anymore. The only thing that still hers, were her feelings because even her decisions have been snatched away.
"I know you can be happy with me." The voice has lost its sharpness, now sounded solemn.
Happy. Oh, how much she wanted to openly sneer at the word. It tasted like arsenic at the tip of her tongue. A cruel reminder of something she lost and was never meant to come back. Couldn't the woman let her mourn what little memories of happiness she vividly remembered? Because like anything else, they were destined to fade away into a distant memory. Soon to be forgotten, to be replaced with recent ones, unhappy, bitter ones. Why did she have to torture her like that?
"I know you are broken; she broke you. But I can fix it."
Rosy lips trembled. She rapidly pulled away from the woman's touch as if her hands held acid. "I'm not…!" Brown eyes slightly narrowed, but before they could adopt a hateful look, they lost their edge. Instead, her attention drifted to put her trousers on.
'I'm not your husband, nor your son…'
"…I'm not someone that needs fixing."
Recognizing her poor choice of words, the woman shook her head lightly, then made the motion to reach for the younger woman again. "I didn't mean to imply that—"
"Of course, you didn't." Said Hermione as she stepped away. This time the bitterness came out before she could erase it from her tone. Taking a short breath to temper her emotions, she continued "How do you plan, according to you, fix me, uh? With physical discipline? With a spell?" She chuckled at the thought, "You might as well better drug me with Amortentia. It'll save you a lot of time."
"I don't need Amortentia. Just give me a real opportunity."
"Just like you gave me one?!" Hermione quickly retorted, unaware that her hands had balled up tightly, she swallowed the rest of her words and instead waited for Narcissa to speak. She didn't know what to really expect from the woman's reaction. A large part her wanted and expected to see her displaying shame, shame at her own actions and selfish desires. Shame for her bloody hedonism. Guilt for being a participant in this madness. Or anything… Anything but the cold, stoic expression she was portraying right now. A complete emotional detachment from the loaded accusation.
'I'm not the one that needs fixing…'
Narcissa stepped away, wandlessly beckoning the gown on the floor to slide onto her body. "You like her, that seems to be obvious." Tying a loose knot over her waist, she asked her, "Do you love her?"
The question itself angered Hermione more than it amused her. "What kind of bloody question is that? Of course not!" It was ridiculous to even insinuate that she could possess such an unthinkable feeling towards Bellatrix.
One blonde eyebrow raised defiantly, "And yet you think of her as I'm the one fucking you. How am I supposed to interpret that?"
"You think nothing of it!" the girl yelled. It didn't matter what the woman thought she heard because the mere idea was simply outrageous.
A dry chuckle left her tightened lips. "To love her— No, to even like her, it'll mean that somehow I wished to stay here. How preposterous! In case you have forgotten, let me remind you that I don't want any of this! If I had my way, things would be very different!" So, so different, she thought. She would probably be having dinner together on weekends at the Burrow with Ron and Harry. Or probably she would be at Hogwarts fixing the destruction of the castle, opting to finish her last year. She always wanted to finish her education. And her parents, God, her parents, how she terribly missed them. There were so many things she could be doing now. Anything but this! Bellatrix would be dead or living in the worst Azkaban cell the Aurors could find for her. And Narcissa… "Dammit! I wouldn't be here in the first place, and you will probably be rotting at Azkaban for being one of the followers of that monster!" Her breath was heavy with repressed anger, and her eyes reflected all the pain and frustration living inside her.
Narcissa, unresponsive to the outburst, walked slowly towards the girl, closing most of the space between them. Hermione focused on an empty spot behind the woman's shoulder. "Something similar happens to me, Granger." So softly, so tenderly, the blonde rested her forehead against the girl's. "More often than not I wonder, what would happen if only we had killed you and your two little friends at my home. I wonder where would I be? Probably sitting next to my husband in a booth at the Wizengamot, ruling next to our Lord." One arm snaked around the slim waist, the brought the brunette closer to her taller body. "I replay in my mind that moment when I let Potter disarm me. What a terrible mistake. It pains me every time I recall it." The free hand suddenly clasped Hermione's neck and squished lightly. Despite the alarm in brown eyes, the girl didn't fight against it, she knew better than that.
A half-smile appeared on those lips, "I regret that night when Bellatrix didn't succeed to slice your neck." The thumb ran across an invisible line on her neck, the breath of wine gazed her lips and thunder eyes pierced the earth-colored ones. "But here we are, filled with regrets." The blonde woman kissed her forehead. "Why don't we just make the best of it? Let's stop living in the past, and enjoy our present."
All this time, Hermione remained still. Not knowing what to feel or react. The pressure behind her eyes grew stronger, perhaps if she were to be alone, she would indulge in a moment of pure sadness. Even let herself shed some tears, despite the promise to never do it again. At the same time, the reluctance to show any emotion shoved away any sort of that silly sentimentalism. She wouldn't break. Narcissa didn't have the right to see her weak. So, she stood there, her arms hung from her body, while the woman held her in hers, like a child with her most loved doll.
"I like this blouse. It suits you." Said Narcissa, her mouth close to her ear. "It used to be mine if I recall correctly. Of course, you so look much better wearing it."
Narcissa didn't need to use her wand, neither to get physical. Her words cut and burned her as deeper as Bellatrix's angry spells used to do.
The blonde woman kissed unresponsive lips. "Stay with me tonight."
"I…" the brunette swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I don't think that's wise."
"In two weeks," The blonde kissed her temple affectionately "She'll arrive after two weeks more. She said something delayed her. No further explanations." The hand on her waist climbed up under her blouse, cold fingers caressed her ribs while the thumb dug under her bra. "Let me take care of you."
Everything was so tender, so soft. Hermione used to like tender and soft. This time she responded to the second kiss with the intensity that was required of her.
In this complex scheme, what Narcissa failed to see, was herself. She failed to understand how broken she was, perhaps even more than her. Hermione thought, that among the three of them, the only one that didn't seem to live with regrets and enjoyed the present, was Bellatrix. Nothing held that woman back.
'You are as miserable as I am, Narcissa Black' The thought consoled Hermione every night. Narcissa's suffering was equal or higher to her own. And as the woman dragged onto the bed, Hermione did so gladly, with a smile on her face.
Did she miss Bellatrix? … Perhaps.
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