Warning This Chapter contains: mentions of sexual activity. Assault.
Warning for every chapter: Slavery. Dubious consent. Violence. Mentions of rape. Death. Assault. General gore warnings. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Chapter Ten
Her chest burns with every breath, her eyes watering, as she struggles to find her feet. Dazed, confused, she can barely see through the fog or is it smoke. Breathless, her throat aches from exertion. Shouting, people are shouting, moving shadows in the mist that grasps her.
Bleeding, she's aware she's bleeding blood pooling between her fingers, gripping her side in pain. The ground is hard beneath her knees, fear, strikes her stupid. Keeps her still. Mistress. She needs to see her mistress and find her. Doesn't she?
"Hermione!"
The voice jerks her from her slumber, jolting her awake, a hand on her bicep shaking. Blinking, she stares around the small, enclosed cabin she shares with Theo Hawthorn. His violet eyes unnerving in the little light of the cabin.
"Are you okay?" He asks, pulling his hands back.
"I'm fine," Hermione replies rubbing her face, removing the sleep from her eyes.
"Are you sure?" He replies, moving back to his side of the cabin.
"Honestly, Theo is just a nightmare." Just the promise of her death to come.
"Hell of a nightmare," Theo comments. "I could see your heart pounding."
Hermione manages to hide her grimace when choosing a servant to join them in the Assembly. She needed someone reserved, quiet, someone she could trust not to cause a scene. Angelina would be perfect so would Mr Locks, but they are both needed back at the manor to ensure it remains running smoothly. Creevy wasn't an option, too curious, and would ask too many questions. Her mistress would punish him for even talking. No, she needed someone quiet, that's why she chose Theo. Unassuming, smart, and neatly presented. It mattered little whether he was an alchemist or specialised in Herbology. Hermione isn't even sure her mistress is aware of his existence.
All that mattered was, that Theo would be respectful and most importantly quiet. Theo is a loner, more than happy to be left alone, and perfect for the job. Also, someone not scared easily, which made her life so much simpler. She may be putting him out of his comfort zone, but she couldn't risk bringing anyone else.
The only issue being, that she forgot about his ability to see people. Literally. She cannot recall his family tree, or how he has the ability. Regardless, Theo's eyes allow him to have a transparent vision. Able to see inside other witches and wizards, it's why she usually put him in charge of security at certain events.
Now though, she feels scrutinised in the tight space, with those violet eyes, knowing they can see everything her heart is doing. She never went into too much detail about what he can see. It's the reason not many servants make friends with him at the manor, too scared of his ability, it freaks them out.
"Can I ask?" Theo questions turning to gaze out the train window. "Why did you choose me to come?"
"Your quiet," Hermione answers honestly. "Assembly's can be… intense sometimes. I need someone who appreciates solitude and silence. Not everyone can."
"Like Arthur."
"Like Arthur," Hermione answers with a roll of eyes.
They had all heard the story of Arthur, Lily had chosen him to go to an Assembly with her and Lady Lestrange. Had hand-picked him, a lovely middle-aged wizard. In the house, he was respected and firm. Hermione had only known him for a year when he left. He never came back from the Assembly the same again. St Mungo's was the last time Hermione had heard he ended up, muttering to himself. Sectioned.
Lily never spoke of the Assembly not long after that, Hermione had started to attend with her. Every year they're different, every year it becomes harder to anticipate. Last year Angelina went before Mrs Hicks passed away and she was promoted.
"There are some basic rules, these rules will keep you safe," Hermione states calmly. "Attend to our mistress, listen to her instructions, this is what you already know. However, at the Assembly, it's all about power presentations. We need to be fast and anticipate our mistress needs. To show we are attentive, it's all about the show. They are looking to undermine one another, wanting to impress him. Don't trust any of the other servants. No one. They are there for their master's best interest, don't believe a thing they say. Secondly, do not look any in the eye, especially Snape and Him. They can enter your thoughts much faster if you make eye contact. Keep your occlumency shields high. Never share information. If the Dark Lord asks anything of you, always look back to Lady Lestrange for permission. Always."
"Sounds like fun," Theo quips.
"Solitude will be your friend," Hermione reassures. "I need to check on our Lady, we have a few hours till we arrive. You should get some rest."
Rising to her feet, Hermione pulls the rickety door open, stepping into the corridor, she pulls it closed behind her. Moving along, she heads from the servants' quarters of the train to first-class, nodding to others on her trek.
Stepping through the mahogany door to first class she stops showing the crest on her neck for the Wizard to check. He waves her on, she pauses outside her mistress's cabin. Pressing her hand to the door, she waits for the charm to recognise her, with a click the door unlocks. With a swish, the door moves to allow her entrance to the large cabin.
A bed in the corner, Hermione makes out the limbs of her mistress, the gentle snoring. Moving quietly, she moves to the table in the room, summoning a glass, she prepares her mistress drinks for when she wakes. The sun is beginning to rise in the distance peeking out from behind mountains. With a flick of her wand, Hermione summons the kettle, casting a silencing charm she waits for it to boil.
A soft knock at the door, pushing it open she accepts the food from the servant who bows disappearing out of sight. Setting down on the table, Hermione prepares the fork. Not like their train compartment were the glasses of water slide along the ground. This compartment barely rocks could easily be mistaken for a house if it weren't for the moving countryside.
Setting the croissant aside, she prepares the butter, jam, orange juice, lobster, saffron-infused Greek yoghurt and peaches and truffle scrambled eggs. It smells delicious. The tiger bread is neat to the side of the plate. Summoning the kettle, Hermione adds the boiling water to the tea, adding three sugars and a tad of milk. Gently stirring, she nods satisfied.
A groan, her mistress stirring. She will not be happy, not one for early mornings it's why Hermione ensured her breakfast would be ready for her. Always much easier to distract Lady Lestrange with food, especially when the food is this delicious. The Dark Lord always treats his guests to the best food. At the end of the table, Hermione holds the blue lagoon biscuit, her mistress's favourite treat.
"Ugh," Bellatrix groans appearing from the depths of her blankets.
Black mane covering her face, Lady Lestrange swings her legs over the bed, a silk nightgown barely covering her modesty. Averting her gaze, Hermione steps back from the table, keeping her eyes focussed on the window. She's able to track her mistresses' movements while also able to avoid noticing her mistress's nakedness. The memory of the previous evening still burning in her mind. Hermione wasn't aware, people could bend let alone make such noises.
Blushing at the thought she focuses on the mountains, pulling the chair back as Lady Lestrange approaches the table. Stepping aside, Hermione holds her hands behind her back, waiting for any instructions.
She had managed to get a letter to Luna before she left, asking Angelina to post it on her behalf. Remember the concern on Angelina's face as she accepted the letter.
"Hermione, what game are you playing?" Angelina questions in a heated whisper.
"Nothing, my mistress is not aware of," Hermione had answered honestly, eyeing the letter in Angelina's hand. "Can you send this, or should I find another?"
"Of course, I can send it." White Rabbit is the name on the envelope.
Hermione wonders if the witch received the letter, and wonders if the witch misses her. Does the kiss keep her awake as much as it does Hermione? She cannot imagine someone like Luna playing games, but still the fear nags. She has never had anyone show any interest in her other than for her abilities.
"Paper?" Lady Lestrange's voice is gruff, weighed with tiredness.
Lifting the paper, Hermione hands it to the waiting hand, glancing at the food on the table. The eggs have gone, and Hermione fights off the urge to frown. Her mistress should learn to eat better.
"Yeah, not likely." Bellatrix scoffs at a headline, flicking to the next page.
Throwing the paper to the side, Bellatrix returns to her food. A choke, followed by a little cheer, as Bellatrix pulls the paperback. Turning to the last page there's a section for children, dot to dot and chase the dragon. Summoning a quill, Bellatrix bends overs, concentrating on the paper, biting her tongue as she traces the game.
Smiling to herself, Hermione tries not to show it. Forgetting sometimes how child-like her mistress can be. Cute. Nope, nope, not having those thoughts, not having those thoughts.
"Ha!" Bellatrix announces victoriously. "Best one yet."
Turning to the paper, Hermione is impressed with the rough drawing of the dragon, horntail by the looks of it. Not many know her mistress's passion for drawing, excellent as well for the arts. Some of the finer pictures that line Lestrange manor were painted by Lady Lestrange, always signing under a different name. Not so much now, she doesn't do as much painting or drawing as she used to.
"What's the point pet? It's a waste of materials, a waste of my time. For some stupid scraggily paintings to line a wall? Pathetic."
Sometimes though, she would catch her mistress staring at one of her pictures. A longing in those dark eyes. Maybe in another life, her mistress could have been an artist, perhaps following her passion for painting.
"We're not the only ones in servitude." Lily had reminded Hermione one morning when they made Lady Lestrange's bed. "We all have a role to play."
"Here," The word brings Hermione back to the present, looking down at the plate pushed across the table.
Swallowing, Hermione stares confused at the tiger bread sitting on the plate and the glass of orange juice. Has her mistress finished eating, but she's still munching merrily on her lobster watching her biscuit like a hawk?
"Mistress?" Hermione questions.
"Normally, people eat the toast, don't expect me to feed you by hand as well."
"Thank you." Hermione gushes, reaching for the bread.
Lifting the plate she steps back from the table, despite Lady Lestrange's kindness, she is not meant to sit at the table. Eat the food maybe, but not eat at the same table. Tiger bread, it's her favourite, not that she would turn down any other kind of bread. She just particularly likes this one.
"Saves waste," Lestrange comments off-hand, sipping her tea.
Hermione doesn't mention it's never stopped her mistress from wasting food before. So happy to eat the toast, she dares not poke the bear this early in the morning.
"That boy, the servant… What's its name?"
"Theo," Hermione answers swallowing. "He works mainly in the gardens."
"Strange choice," Bellatrix mutters.
"His quiet."
"What's with his weird eyes?"
"It's complicated," Hermione responds.
"Oh, never mind then."
Smirking, Hermione returns the plate to the table, gulping the orange juice in one go. Long fingers curl around the biscuit dragging it down the table, grinning like a maniac. Moving past her Mistress, Hermione moves to the bed to make it presentable. In a few hours, they will be pulling into the station. It never escaped Hermione's notice how the Dark Lord's residence is like that of Hogwarts. She remembers reading or perhaps hearing somewhere that the Dark Lord has only felt Hogwarts was his home. It makes sense he would replicate his own.
A satisfied groan as Bellatrix demolishes the biscuit in one sitting, picking the crumbs off the plate. Smiling, Hermione tucks the duvet, they may be coming into the station, but there's always the chance something could happen. They could be forced to remain on the train before disembarking. This means stripping her mistress's bed, would leave her mistress with nowhere to sleep. Besides, the servants of the town, who'll be arriving in will change the bedding once everyone has left.
Fingers grazing wood, Hermione plucks the item from beneath the pillow. Her fingers trace the walnut wand, dragon heartstring strangely like Hermione's own wand. Studying the curved wand, she feels the familiar pulse from the wand. It always amazed Hermione how unyielding the wand could be. Not that she would ever dare to use it, but it always fascinated Hermione.
A hand curls around her waist, Hermione grows still, the familiar pressure of chin on her shoulder. The black mane fall around her shoulders, curious dark eyes staring down at the wand in her hands.
"Are you two bonding?" Bellatrix whispers.
"No," Hermione mutters forcing a quiet laugh. "I would never use your wand, nor would it let me should I dare."
"She is a disobedient minx isn't she."
"It's the walnut," Hermione answers holding the wand out for her mistress to take.
"I wasn't talking about the wand," Bellatrix replies, plucking the wand from Hermione's hand.
Biting her tongue, Hermione remains quiet, as the witch twirls the wand in her hand. That crooked wand can deal so much pain, she has felt its wrath, but it's just an instrument of her mistress's power.
"Your avoiding eye contact." Lestrange comments.
"Am I?"
"Don't play stupid, it doesn't suit you."
"I honestly didn't notice."
She flinches as a hex rush through her body, it's not painful, just uncomfortable, torment. It pushes her backwards into her mistress, the hand tightening of the hand on her hip. The chin was firmly in place, a small smile developing on her mistress's lips.
"Perhaps I know why," Lestrange continues. "Did last night make you uncomfortable?"
"It's not my place to be uncomfortable."
"Do you ever bore of the same script?" Bellatrix sighs in annoyance.
"My Lady?"
"It's not my place, it's not this blah, blah fucking blah. Ugh, it grows tiresome."
"You'd rather me speak my mind?"
"Surely your frightened little virgin mind can cope with that?"
"I'm not a virgin…"
She clamps her mouth shut, not letting herself finish the sentence, feeling her mistress grow cold against her. Why did I say that! Stupid, so stupid. The world spins, and Hermione turned on the spot, so fast she becomes disorientated, a hand curling around her throat. It forces her backwards, her legs hit the bed, and she topples onto her bum. Hands stopping her from falling backwards.
For second black spots appear, she clutches the hand choking her, her lungs gasping for air. The grip relaxes choking, she inhales air, her mistress furious, the wand pointed ever so dangerously.
"Say it again," Bellatrix hisses. "I didn't realise I had such a little whore as my Red Kite."
"No… I."
"Speak up Granger, last time I checked, you belonged to me." A pause, a strange look passing her mistress's features. Horror quickly morphed into anger. "That blonde little bitch, I knew should have dealt with her."
"W… a… ing"
"What?" Bellatrix demands.
Tapping the hand, Hermione struggles to talk, her windpipe trapped between strong fingers. Relaxing her grip, Bellatrix hints for Hermione to hurry and explain.
"Broom." Hermione gasps.
"What?"
"I… A broom," Hermione blushes, the memory still painful to relieve, not because of losing her virginity, but to do so publicly. "We must learn to ride brooms."
"You don't ride, I remember that quite clearly," Bellatrix recalls.
"No," Hermione shakes her head with a shudder. "I… was learning to ride, and well I'm not very good at it. I landed awkwardly, I was bleeding, so they sent me to see the nurse. I broke my hymen."
"By flying?" Bellatrix replies sceptically. "You lost your virginity to a broom?"
"Technically, still a virgin, just without the well… you know."
A laugh breaks from red lips, howling, tears spring from dark eyes. Blushing, Hermione hides her embarrassment. The hand on her throat, turns from aggressive to passive, falling to her shoulder as her mistress continues to laugh.
"Fuck me, I needed a good laugh," Bellatrix whispers. "Why am I only learning this now?"
"Not a story I enjoy telling," Hermione mutters.
"Oh, I bet."
Wiping her tears, Bellatrix raises her wand, flinching, Hermione waits for the pain. A softness washes over her throat, peeking, Hermione notices the dark eyes focused on her throat. The tenderness, the pain slowly fading, her mistress healing her, the first time her mistress has ever healed her.
She had always wondered what would happen if she ever slept with another. It's not as though they can start a happy family, but it does make her wonder what would happen. Now she knows, her mistress will be kind should Hermione sleep with anyone else.
"That servant is outside," Bellatrix comments glancing to the door, the charms in place warning her. "He has been for a few minutes; does he not know how to knock?"
"He can see us," Hermione replies, glancing to the door. "His eyes, he can see us."
"Ah," Bellatrix comments. "That's helpful."
"Especially during events." Hermione nods, shifting uncomfortably.
Last night, she saw one of the women on the bed in a similar position. It makes her uncomfortable, but not for the reason it probably should. Bellatrix standing between her legs can still remember the blonde witch dropping to her knees in front of Bellatrix. She shivers from the thoughts blushing; she turns her eyes away from the scarcely dressed witch standing between her thighs.
A breath ghosts her ear, the heavy scent of her mistress's perfume. A hand grazing her hip, lips just out of reach. Penetrating dark eyes, watching, waiting for a reaction. Breasts on full show from the way her mistress is bent down.
"Now I know why you won't meet my eye." Bellatrix comments.
Blushing, Hermione throws up her shields, unaware she had dropped her guard. The memory of the night before, the sounds the witches had made.
"Maybe I should have let you join," Bellatrix whispers. "Would you have liked that?"
"No," Hermione breathes an answer.
"No?" Black scoffs pulling away to meet Hermione's gaze. "You wouldn't want to join?"
"No," Hermione answers brazenly. "I don't share."
With the slightest tilt of the head, Hermione hears the witch take a deep breath, the hand tightening, the only indicator the witch heard her answer. She knows if she met those eyes, knows they would be blown. She can't risk it, not with Theo outside the door, she can't risk looking her mistress in the eye. Cannot trust herself not to capture those red lips, can still recall the taste of them.
"Brazen," Bellatrix whispers.
Slowly, Hermione pushes to her feet, becoming aware only now of their height difference. Hermione is slightly taller than her mistress, which she has never noticed before. Those shapely thighs are still on show, Hermione knows she has the strength, she could easily lift her mistress. Have those thighs wrapped around her waist, push her against the table, kiss the exposed flesh. Intentionally she drops her shields, allowing the image, her fantasy to run with wild abandon.
A slight intake of breath, the slightest brush of skin, it's electrifying. Closing her shields, she forces herself to meet her mistress's gaze. Not prepared for the fire reflecting. Her hand moves, pressing against her mistress's waist, gentle, but firm, nudging the witch backwards. The hitch, Bellatrix's hand moving to Hermione's bicep, to push or pull away. Hermione will never know.
"I will clear the table, my Lady, we are nearly there." Hermione states.
Stepping past her mistress, she begins to clear the table, waving her hand at the door, knowing Theo will be watching. He needs to gather the bags ready for the departure. Plates stacked high; Hermione turns back to her Mistress.
"I will give you the room to change," Hermione replies. "I will be outside should you need assistance."
The door swishes open, and Theo has left. She allows the door to close behind her releasing a deep breath. The hell has got into her lately. Is she looking for a lashing? No, they are going to an assembly, she cannot risk letting her feelings show. She will need to speak to Theo to find out what exactly he saw during her encounter with Bellatrix. First, though, she needs to dispose of these plates.