Smut at the end

Chapter 7 – The Ministry of Magic – May 14th, 1947

His portkey arrived in the Ministry, and with a little flourish, Rodolphus Lestrange waltzed out, straightening his robes as he made to leave the office. His businesses in France were doing quite well in this post-war era, he personally managed multiple brothels across both the UK and France, and though France's laws made his more underhanded dealings difficult, the business was prospering sharply due to the lure prostitution and women of the night had on returned soldiers, both magical and non-magical.

Not many knew, but outside of trafficking, the Lestranges have had control over both muggle and magical brothels in almost every major city for centuries, long before they'd even tried their hand in other markets. In fact, their other ventures had never taken off until the British line of the family had started in the 1400s. This was when his ancestor, Romulus Lestrange, saw the rampant effects of inbreeding within pureblood families, which was a practice that had originally been perpetuated by muggle royalty.

At first, the inbreeding had simply resulted in the significant rise in squib births, more so than the severe mutations and illnesses that had come to make themselves known in more recent centuries. During that time, the magical population would simply abandon the child within muggle populations by bewitching whole families into accepting them, before once more attempting to breed viable, magical heirs.

A famous case of this was John of Gaunt, who was left with the then ruling family to be raised as a prince because, despite his lack of magic, the Gaunts had still believed themselves to be superior even then, having married into the Slytherin line in the 1300s, and still believed that their squib son had deserved the best. Rodolphus snorted, much was the same now with the current Lord Slytherin, a Gaunt by blood, believing himself worth more than his blood's station.

His ancestor, seeing the opportunity to build an empire, played on wizardkind's sense of superiority, and their hatred for muggles. Romulus Lestrange had settled in Britain and began his coup for power by birthing the perpetuation of muggleborn objectification, successfully turning their disdain for the ethnic group into an opportunity for their own benefit.

From there, Lestranges had spent centuries gently guiding the law from behind the curtain to further secure power in their British seat, even going so far as to spend outrageous amounts of galleons through the years to simultaneously keep the perception of muggleborn inferiority, strong enough, at least, to discourage the abandonment of blood supremacy. It, of course, worked seamlessly, as pureblood families paid top galleon to 'save' their legacy, and truly, what were the Lestranges offering but a service?

Unfortunately, with the advancement of years, came the advancement of 'human rights' that had caused them to put a pause in their work, incensing his later ancestors to shift the business model into a completely underground function, to the point of using a great extent of their wealth to blackmail themselves out of Azkaban.

Knowledge of the business only then became known to the head of house, and heirs henceforth, necessitating the need for unbreakable vows between themselves and every client to ever use their service.

As for muggleborns, they were generally compensated if they remained willing. The payout was enough for them to live comfortably for a few years, however, they would be obliviated after the transaction had been completed. And if they didn't? If there was a demand for a specific muggleborn? Then it was usually at the tip of a wand that they complied, usually to be disposed of once their usefulness had been spent.

He entered the lift, requesting the Atrium. He was heading home, having invited Mulciber for drinks. As he listened to the subtle 'dings' of the lift, his mind drifted towards his current...muse, for lack of better word. He'd known about her for a while, having had to listen to Bellatrix, his then, rather new, wife, spit the mudblood's name for daring to be associated with the half-blood Slytherin she was obsessed with.

He let her have her psychotic rambles, amused at the hypocrisy she showed on the daily in her burning hatred for muggles, and yet, her eager acceptance to fuck a half-blood. He wasn't surprised in the slightest, of course, the line of the Black family that had reared Bellatrix had refused their services for centuries, truly believing in the superiority of their blood. Eventually blinding themselves to the inferiority of their offspring, instead, proudly calling it 'The Black Madness'.

He scoffed, a ridiculous boast if he'd ever heard one. However, it was an appropriate moniker, seeing that as more years passed, so did more of Bella's sanity. She was intelligent, with a focus as sharp as a knife, he'd give her that, but her enthusiasm for sadism and cruelty grew to almost worrying degrees.

As for Miss Granger-Riddle, his interest in her had first sparked days before Riddle won his Slytherin seat, with the Skeeter article that had debased her entire character to nothing but a whorish French immigrant. Under his grandfather's orders to turn the opinion of the article, because they needed Riddle to win the seat, he had sent her the undiluted bubotuber pus with the helpful note, through the muggle mail, on the assumption that either she or Riddle would have erected a mail ward. This had worked out wonderfully in their favour, because his tip to the Daily Prophet that had a reporter and cameraman at St. Mungos for an unrelated article, managed to capture the moment Riddle helped his poor, injured muggleborn cousin, turning him into the sympathetic character that won the Slytherin seat.

At the time, she'd only been marginally interesting, and so, he hadn't cared much for her existence aside from the curiosity of whether she would eventually end up in prostitution or not. But it was only when Slytherin had all but claimed her with his words, and proceeded to duel Malfoy—leaving the younger scion scarred for life—did he truly begin to look at her. Though it was her house-elf bill passing that had ignited his actual interest.

She was a lovely witch, but more than that, she'd become a forbidden fruit, a polished little jewel protected by a basilisk, and he'd been disappointed at the unlikelihood of ever being able to taste her. That all changed, however, when Slytherin made a move for power, disregarding the existing hierarchy that favoured him and his family. All of a sudden, his grandfather's favour upon the boy-lord had evaporated, and it was looking like her protection would follow suit.

Coincidentally, this happened around Bella's first miscarriage, igniting into his mind, a plan that, although outrageous, would sate this newfound lust of his, while also hitting multiple other targets at once. Chiefly, would be to cripple Slytherin by praying on an obvious weakness, taking her and daring him to act. Secondly, making use of Leta, which his grandfather was more than pleased with. And thirdly, giving him the heir he needed without putting undue stress on Bella. Though, it had only been when he caught her in one of these very lifts, that he'd brought the idea to his grandfather, gaining his blessing to finally begin his planning.

The lift opened, and he made his way to the floos, pulling his pocket watch out to quickly check the time, it was only five in the evening, Mulciber should be arriving by floo around six. Placing the pocket watch back, he padded his other cargo, a commissioned potion from Lord Severus Prince, a brew dedicated to temporarily raising the drinker's libido. It was something he'd paid for Miss Granger-Riddle before ever meeting her in the lift, but now he was uncertain if he even wanted to use it on her.

At first, he'd wanted to avoid a messy first time, but after witnessing her smart mouth, he felt like he wanted to encourage her to fight him, he wanted to see her fire, and he wanted to smother it. He wanted to see her fear, plain as day when she realized what the rest of her life would consist of. He played with the idea of letting her go after the child was born, but also considered keeping her, it truly depended on how everything played out.

He reached a floo, and grabbing a handful of powder, he tossed it into the fireplace, he walked through with a mind filled with thoughts of the future.

Diagon Alley – May 18th, 1947

Hermione browsed through fabrics at Twilfitt & Tattings, having gotten Leo's measurements during the spring hols to pick up some new robes for him, as he couldn't stand shopping, being uncomfortable with a seamstress taking his measurements. She was doing this because she noticed that he'd gone through another growth spurt, and his current robes were at his ankles, and his sleeves were above his wrist bones.

She'd told him she'd shop for him on her next leisure day, and sent it to him through the mail. So, here she was, looking through fabric swatches and books on current robes style. She would have liked to get him some muggle clothes, but living with Tom in that great big castle made that difficult, as he generally disliked anything muggle in the castle (a thought that made her scoff, but she dismissed it anyhow). She saw movement out of the corner of her eye when she went to look at different swatches of fabric on the opposite table and turning to it, she saw what distinctly looked like an elf ear dart around a set of pre-made hanging robes.

Another thing, it looked to be that Niti was following her. She thought she'd been hallucinating at the shoe store, but she was sure of it now.

She sighed and continued to shop, adding socks, pyjamas, and underclothes before going to the register to pay. She placed down the same-day items and the swatches for robes with the measurements, making sure to have at least five school ones made and a few different coloured casual styles. Paying for her entire order and placing the receipt with the pickup date in her pocket, she shrank her purchases to fit within her bag. Once finished, she turned from the register and stepped forward a few paces.

"Niti, please come out," she spoke calmly, and a few silent seconds later, the elf revealed herself nervously. Hermione's face softened, taking in Niti's shuffling, it was clear she was still expecting to be punished, even though her law specifically made corporal punishment illegal.

"Yes, miss?" she asked, straightening her small robes, and Hermione sighed, not finding it in her to be angry or even annoyed with her at all. Instead, she decided to direct her ire where it belonged.

"Is the lord home?" she asked, not wanting to say Tom's name, as she was still in public, and at Niti's nod, she asked for her to apparate her home once they left the shop, which the elf agreed to nervously. As they were leaving, Hermione felt like she should reassure her.

"I'm not angry with you, I just need to speak to him urgently," she explained with a patient smile, causing the elf to relax marginally.

Once they cleared the shop and stood outside, the elf held her hand and with a pull at her navel, she was standing back in the entrance hall of Alcazar Deslizan. She thanked Niti and requested that she bring her bag to her room, before making her way to Tom's office, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She didn't understand what his problem was, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself (sure, she hadn't practiced or read up on defensive techniques since school, but she was certain she was skilled enough to get out of danger and get herself to safety). Furthermore, it angered her that he, apparently, thought she was in some kind of danger and yet wouldn't tell her what it was.

She knocked on his office door before opening—though she knew she wouldn't find him in any compromising positions due to the vow—that first time was enough to make her wary forever. She saw that she had his attention as she went to stand in front of his desk, crossing her arms and pursing her lips at him in annoyance.

He placed his quill down and steeped his fingers together, elbows on the desk, giving her his full, undivided attention.

"Yes?" he asked, clearly humouring her.

"Why is Niti following me?" she asked, watching as his borderline amused expression turned into a frown, "and you are not going to punish her in any way for being caught, I just want to know why," she continued, giving him a pleading look that he seemed to study for a moment.

"For safety," he replied finally, and she scoffed.

"Against what!?" she snapped, trying to keep her rage in check, "I want answers, Tom, I can take care of myself but not if you don't tell me what the threat is!" she ranted, and his expression quickly became unamused, but she didn't stumble or retract.

He stood up and walked towards her until he stood chest to chest with her, causing her to have to crane her neck to keep eye contact. His arm wrapped around her quickly, pulling her flush against him and she felt the pull at her naval. She closed her eyes as the office disappeared around them, and when she opened them again, blinking rapidly to stave off nausea, she realized they were standing in what looked like the duelling room. She made note of the scorch marks on the floor, shivering at the proof that he'd clearly used it and wondered briefly against who. She looked back up at him, slightly confused.

"Why are we here?" she asked, and his arms unwrapped themselves from her person and he took a few steps back.

"You say you can take care of yourself," he spoke softly, "show me," he commanded, magic pulsing around him in anticipation.

"You want me to duel you?" she asked, almost shocked. She hadn't duelled anyone properly since school, and she wondered how skilled she would be now, out of practice as she was. She then thought of all the possible threats against her person and decided she may as well rework the muscle now that Tom was offering, rather than later. He nodded and she noted the vicious calm that flashed in his eyes, while his magic crackled around him. She then took the requisite amount of steps back until they both were in the proper position.

They bowed and turned away from each other, pacing themselves to their spots before turning and taking stance. Instead of behind his back, his hand was out, and he indicated that she had the first move by quickly jerking his pointer and middle finger together, so she obliged him.

She sent a quick Confringo his way, which he deflected but it had been a diversion as she disillusioned herself and moved to the right. Seeing that she was gone, he cast Agua Eructo, causing water to spread itself along the floor, and seeing that she wouldn't be hidden for long before the water reached her feet, she silently hurled a Sagittatum at him from his right side.

This surprised him, and since the arrows were fast and very physical, he dodged by spinning forward, but while he did that, she doubled the water level with Agua Erecto Duo, controlling it to form a giant wave to crash into him.

He quickly shielded himself with a Protego Maxima, and once the wave passed, he jumped using Ascendio and (she assumed, as all his spellwork was silent) a Morbi a me to keep himself floating high above the ground, he snapped his wand quickly in a downward slashing motion.

Understanding that he was about to cast Fulgur Percutiens to electrocute the water she was standing in with a lightning bolt, she quickly cast a finite on the water, and an Evanesco to vanish any further droplets, before throwing herself out of the way to avoid the actual bolt that sparked where she'd been standing, as her finite had also undone her disillusionment.

She watched as he skilfully floated down from where he'd levitated himself, and before his foot touched the ground, she conjured a flock of canaries with Avis, quickly hurling the birds at him with Oppugno, which he protected himself by conjuring a hard shield with a combination of Protego Maxima and Fianto Duri.

As the birds smashed into nothing against his shield, she whipped her wand in a circular motion above her head, conjuring a whip of flames from the tip with a silent Ignis Verberaque, before striking at him, causing the rope of fire to wrap itself around him.

Harry had always drilled into them to conjure and cast fast with curses and spells that would distract their opponents, to keep them busy by forcing them to protect themselves, which is why she stuck with projectiles, hoping for an opening in which she could disarm him.

She noticed he was unbothered by the rope of flames that were wrapped tightly around him, and surmised that he'd cast a flame freezing spell. She started the wand movements to the disarming spell, but then he'd moved faster than she'd ever seen him before, and she realized right then that he'd been playing with her.

He was out of the ropes with an Emancipare before she could mentally get to the 'm' in Expelliarmus, dodging before her disarming spell could hit him, but mid dodge, he cast a Flipendo Tria. Conjuring a small tornado, and before she could protect herself, she was sent hurling backwards, hitting the wall. She gasped at the impact but noticed that it didn't feel like she'd hit the stone, understanding immediately that he'd cast a cushioning charm before she hit it.

Before she could clear the spots from her eyes, her hands were bound above her head against the wall with a Fulgari, and her wand ripped itself from her hand and went flying towards Tom, who caught it nonchalantly. She was annoyed, here she was tied up, panting from exertion, and he barely looked like he'd been inconvenienced, she levelled a scowl at him.

"Alright, you won, will you let me out of this?" she asked, exasperatedly pulling against the bonds that held her wrists above her head. He titled his head at her, observing her, though his expression was inscrutable. His wand flashed as she blinked, and her robes ripped along the side, he'd sent a Diffindo, lightly nicking her waist, she winced, snapping her eyes to the new injury and tear to her clothing before bringing her gaze back to him.

"Tom! What are you doing!?" she shrieked at him, but he only regarded her pensively. She pulled at the bonds at her wrists with a vengeance, to no avail.

"What do you think happens when you're disarmed?" he asked, his voice low, taking measured steps towards her. She warily watched as he came closer, not answering his clearly rhetorical question.

"You say you can take care of yourself, but here you are, helpless," he murmured, looking down on her now. He traced his wand over her collarbone, and she decided she was really not enjoying this lesson of his. She glared at him as he brought his wand down gently, popping the buttons to her robes with a silent Diffindo, gently so that he wouldn't injure her, but enough to slice through her brassiere, as she could feel it loosen from the front.

She opened her mouth to berate him, but he hushed her, bringing his hand up to caress a breast that was now exposed from his destruction. Her eyes closed and she couldn't help as her breathing hitched when he began fondling her nipple into a peak, but snapped open again and she gasped when he pinched her, hard.

"Ow! Tom!" she exclaimed, pulling at her restraints some more, only to yelp when both of his hands gripped either side of her robes, where they were still buttoned up to her navel, and tore them. They now hung limply from her arms, and she was exposed entirely in the front.

"I am teaching you a valuable lesson here, Hermione," he spoke gently as he kicked her legs apart, bringing one of his hands down into her undergarment. He slowly began to stroke her entrance while she wriggled in place, and feeling the tension immediately begin to build in her core as he slipped two fingers in, she couldn't stop herself from grinding down on his hand.

"What lesson is that?" she gasped out when he hit a certain spot in her that made her see stars.

"That regardless of how prepared you think you are, there will always be someone more skilled, and when they win, who knows what they'll do to you," he explained, leaning down and kissing her lips gently, but she could barely hear him through the fog of her building orgasm. He continued like that for a while, and just when she was on the precipice, he withdrew his hand and stepped back, leaving her hanging.

"Do you understand?" he asked, and she gaped at him, watching as he sucked on his fingers, taking more steps back. She swallowed, took a deep breath to regain her composure and answered, bringing up his avoidance.

"Of course, but you still haven't told me what the danger is," she pointed out, using her bound hand to physically point at him.

"It doesn't matter what the threat is if you are not skilled enough to fight it off," he answered, deflecting her again. She stamped down her ire and decided to humour him.

"Okay, so what's your solution? Just have an elf follow me around all the time?" she asked while trying to shake her arms awake, still annoyed that he hadn't let her finish. He regarded her pensively again, but she could see his gaze sweep her from head to toe, pausing briefly on her chest with hunger in them. This gave her an idea, so she decided to bargain with him.

"I don't appreciate the lack of trust or privacy with that solution, so instead, why don't you duel me, let's say...once a week, while I study more defensive techniques, so you can personally gauge my improvement?" she recommended, and he raised an eyebrow at her, a light entering his eye that only made her feel a tiny bit nervous.

"And what do I get out of it?" he asked and she juggled ideas. She was generally open to anything, so if she made it sexual only, he'd just point that out. Then an idea hit her, so she decided to go with it, hoping it didn't bite her in the rear.

"After each duel, including today, you can ask one thing of me, no limit of what that thing can be," she offered, and his eyes widened, so much so that she could practically see the gears turning in his mind.

"I accept," he consented before she could take it back. She wondered again if she would come to regret this, and figured, yeah, she probably would, but kept her calm facade anyway. Suddenly, her arms were free, and she brought them down eagerly, glad to get the blood flowing through them again.

"Come here," he ordered, his tone low, sending a fire right to her core, and cautiously, she did, stopping in front of him, wondering what he had in mind now.

"Give me your left hand," he murmured, and she did so, looking from her hand to his face and back again, curiously. He pulled the Gaunt ring from his hand and slid it onto her ring finger, the metal of the band shrinking until it fit her.

"I want you to wear this from now on, this is the thing I ask of you today, and you cannot take it off for any reason, ever," he intoned, and she looked worriedly at it.

"Okay, dare I ask why?" she asked, bringing her hand up to study it, analyzing the odd black stone embedded in it. It was warm, but she supposed that was because it had just come off his own hand.

"Nope," he replied, with a pop to the 'p'.

"And what will the stuck-up purebloods think when they see me, a lowly muggleborn, wearing your family ring?" she asked, and his arm reached around her, under her ruined robes, his hand grabbed her bottom and pushed her into him. She felt, once again, the pull at her navel, and when they materialized into his room, she was about to snap at him for now warning her, but found herself pushed back onto the bed.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows and watched as he slowly knelt in front of her, hands moving the ruined fabric of her robes as he spread her legs.

"What they think..." he began, with a kiss the inside of her thigh, "I couldn't care less what they think." another kiss, and she couldn't help the moan that tore from her throat. Tilting her head back, and closing her eyes, she felt him move back as he pulled her undergarments off and down her legs, closing them while he did this, before opening them and kneeling once more.

He yanked her hips closer to him and brought his tongue slowly from her entrance to the tip of her clit. Her elbows gave out and she laid back, letting him do as he pleased.

"What they'll know, however, is that you are mine" he stated simply.

"In every way." he licked.

"In every shape." he sucked.

"In every form." he thrust his fingers.

She was panting at this point, and her eyes were snapped shut in ecstasy. Her previously denied release started to rebuild with a vengeance, and all she could do was whine and grip at the sheets, while he continued to build her up. Finally, she cried out as she finished, her legs shaking and her hands gripping his hair.

'Good girl.'

She heard his voice everywhere around her but assumed that he'd simply spoken and she was having an out-of-body experience from the orgasm she'd just had, despite that he was busy lapping all of her up.

When he stood, he quickly removed his robes and as he leaned over her, she grabbed the locket from around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her, groaning when he used that moment to thrust up into her. A fog settled in her mind, and she hooked her ankles around him at the base of his back, until all they were doing was rocking together. With every thrust, she swore she could hear him say 'mine', even when his lips were on her, but she didn't question it.

Her second climax was building fast, and her arms were looped tightly around his shoulders. With every 'mine' she heard, she replied with a 'harder', until his thrusts turned hard, slamming into her and shuffling them both back onto the bed. They went like this until she pressed against the headboard, and she was sure his grip on her hips would leave bruises. Finally, she stumbled over what felt like the deepest cliff, that on the last 'mine', the only word out of her mouth was:

'Yours.'

Authors Note: Sorry for the little hiatus I took there, got bogged down with end-of-the-year assignments and exams for school. Until September I should be able to update once a week and not leave you guys hanging.

As always, hope you're all staying safe and healthy, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.