A/N: Wow, it took me ages, Im so sorry. The last part was a real struggle and the beginning even more so! It's about 2,5k words of description only. I mean, EXCUSE ME?! I don't do descriptions, I barely read them! I don't know what's happening…
Now, my intention is not to write a bdsm story. This is NOT a bdsm story. It will have elements of it now and then, but we won't call it that because everything that should be sacred to bdsm doesn't apply here and therefore it's not that. I hope it makes sense.
So, let's agree we won't call it sub/dom relationship, we'll call it abusive relationship ;) that's all, thank you for reading
Anxious. That's what Hermione had been all day.
One big pile of anxiety, bottled up in her chest and squeezing the sanity out of her. She didn't understand what was happening to her. The soul healer did everything to prevent this. She didn't go to see Bellatrix at all today in order not to get overwhelmed. And yet here she was, at home staring at the glass full of red wine for a good ten minutes, trying to breathe through the current episode.
The more she thought about how she avoided that particular cell on the fifth floor, the worse her chest tightened. In the morning she swore to herself she wouldn't go see that woman. Ever again.
And that's when it started.
Yesterday when she got home after that 'session', she was angry. Angry at herself, angry at Bellatrix. Clearly that witch must have put her under some spell. She'd felt relaxed when having her head in the criminal's lap, she'd enjoyed the touches and caresses immensely. It felt right. But that was the problem. It wasn't right. It was everything but right. Could the older witch cast Imperius without a wand? The spell was ancient and powerful, very complicated without a doubt, but Bellatrix was from the Ancient House of Black. Powerful pureblooded family. It was clear the witch had no problems with wandless magic, but could she cast Imperius that way? Hermione had no idea.
She downed a glass (three) of fire-whiskey and went to sleep. Of course, her dreams revolved around the raven-haired woman doing unspeakable things to her. Of fucking course.
So, in the morning she went to work, happy that Ron didn't have a shift because she surely didn't look her best, and decided to avoid the woman.
Her chest tightened only slightly at the thought, but she ignored it. She carried on through the day and finally went to fetch the ingredients for the potions because she did no such thing yesterday. Slowly the tightness was harder and harder to ignore until it was downright impossible. The pressure in her chest became suffocating. She was in no state to brew potions now. The soul healer flooed home and filled up her glass with wine. After the tightness loosened a bit, she vanished the wine with magic and summoned the fire-whiskey instead. The young witch needed something stronger, just like yesterday.
What's happening to me?
Of course, deep down Hermione knew the answer. She already analyzed it. But she was not ready to face it yet. So what that she wanted to see Bellatrix with every fiber of her being. So what that there was a need to see her right now. Did she want to be touched in a way that only Bellatrix knew how to? Yes, definitely. But would she? No! Hell no, she would not engage with that dangerous woman ever again.
And just like that her chest tightened again. Fuck fuck fuck.
Fine. Maybe she shouldn't be this resolute. Bellatrix needed her after all. The criminal was her patient. Beautiful, wicked patient. Ugh, make it stop. She groaned and downed the fire-whiskey in one gulp. Surely this had nothing to do with the fact she wanted more. Despite everything, she felt safe yesterday. Cared for. She desperately wanted to be touched by the woman. Soft caresses were lovely, but not quite enough. Hermione was ready to strip herself of all her clothes and be taken right there and then.
No no no.
What the hell are you thinking right now?! She downed another shot of fire-whiskey to keep her desires at bay. This was highly unprofessional. She couldn't be thinking this way about her patient, dammit. But Bellatrix wanted it just as much. She knew that. She could smell her desire after all. Hermione moaned at the memory. Fuck.
The soul healer poured herself another shot and took it to the living room. She sat down, drink in hand and turned on the TV. It was supposed to distract her from her thoughts, but it never worked. She had no idea why she thought that it would be any different now.
One too many thoughts were running through her head and even though the alcohol helped to numb her wit, it didn't help completely. Red lips, wild raven curls, bottomless eyes and soft hands that held her rather roughly. She groaned. Hermione didn't even question her sexuality anymore. She just scolded herself for not realizing it sooner. It burned her how daft she could be in some things while still maintaining the 'smartest witch of her age' title.
But then again, one's mind was a subject she studied. It wasn't hard to analyze this little mishap. It was called denial. She would be a fool if she said that wasn't the case. She was in denial about many things. Her sexuality at the start and 'no I don't want to see her' at the end of it.
She spent the whole day being in denial about Bellatrix and it got her a solid dose of anxiety and near panic attacks. Sure, she was angry at first, but maybe the anger was there only because nothing more happened. Could that be? Well yes, it very well could. She sighed and summoned the bottle, her shot being empty again. She was getting drunk.
Empowered by the alcohol, her thoughts took another turn. She wanted to go see Bellatrix right now. She hadn't seen her the whole day and she was lonely. Oh, so lonely. Where did that come from? It wasn't so long ago that she was trying to convince herself she wasn't lonely. That the fact she was alone didn't mean she was lonely. Hermione groaned again. Fucking Bellatrix. Her chest tightened some more and she suddenly felt lonely and overwhelmed and sad. She would need to see the older witch. First thing in the morning, she promised herself.
Apparently, the older witch was a cure to her problems now. The soul healer chuckled bitterly as she downed another shot. But then again, maybe Bellatrix was a cure considering she was also the reason why Hermione felt this way. You're going to see her first thing tomorrow, Hermione. She promised herself again and turned off the TV to go to sleep.
Somehow, she found herself in front of the Floo instead of in front of her bed. Traitorous legs and fire-whiskey. She gripped the chimneypiece to steady herself because she was a little wobbly after all the alcohol and then tried to convince herself that this was a bad idea. She hiccupped and started to laugh. Well I can't go now. What would Bellatrix think of me if I hiccupped like that…
She hiccupped again and laughed even more. Oh Hermione, you've became utterly pathetic. Before she could spiral into her own mind a patronus appeared in front of her. It was a Jack Russel terrier and it delivered a message: "Hermione, my mom invited you for breakfast tomorrow, if you want. We don't have to go to work so mom thought you could visit. It's Ron, by the way," the dog said and awaited her answer. She groaned. Tomorrow is Saturday. We don't have to go to work on Saturday. Well, I don't at least. She would just go make the potions then. It was long after the due date. And see Bellatrix.
The dog jumped at her, trying to get attention. "Right, sorry," she apologized to the charm. "Please answer that I won't be able to make it. I have work to do. But I'm very grateful for the invite," she said and finally left the Floo when the patronus disappeared.
Hermione made it to her bedroom on very unsteady legs and passed out in her clothes once she hit the mattress, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion finally catching up with her.
Hermione woke up around 11am with a massive hangover. Her head was pounding, her whole body felt abused. She groaned and went to retrieve the hangover-relieving potion. While magical drinks had a much better kick, the consequences were also a true punch in the gut. She was happy that she decided yesterday to go to Azkaban because had she not, she would have to be at the Weasley's for breakfast toady. And that was not an option. Not by a long shot.
The soul healer downed the potion and groaned. It tasted disgusting. It was bitter and sour, hurting all the way to her stomach. Thankfully it always worked wonders, though. That's why everyone went through with the taste rather than dealing with the hangover. Gone was the sickness, gone was the headache. Her body didn't ache all over. She was good to go. Well, for the most part.
She realized that after her pity party she'd passed out on the bed without a shower. Nor cleansing charms. Hermione, you pig. That wouldn't do, she still wore yesterday's clothes too. New low. This is your new low. She made her way to the bathroom and started the bath. Technically no one expected her in Azkaban, she wasn't even supposed to be there today. She had time for a bath. And you wouldn't go see Bellatrix smelling like a drunk.
Hermione undressed and stepped inside the tub. She melted into a puddle when the hot water touched her whole body. She preferred the water to be so hot that it nearly hurt. Thousands of needles attacked her skin before it dissolved into nothing and she was only surrounded by warmth. She would have to wash her hair too because it smelled.
God, how much did she drink yesterday? Probably a tad too much. The potion helped enormously, but only on the physical aspect of the hangover, no one could help with the emotional toll. Well, someone actually might, she thought and smirked. Apparently, she did that now when thinking of Bellatrix. She would see her soon. Raven hair, porcelain skin… Hermione's hand lazily crossed from her neck over her breasts and continued south. Her skin was red, oversensitive from the hot water so she already felt lightheaded from the touches. She bit her lip and spread herself with two fingers. The hot water immediately spread through her folds and she gasped, needing to get used to the temperature. Would Bellatrix laugh at her? Would she tell her to keep going? The soul healer groaned. What the hell are you doing, Hermione?! She's your patient! Stop this. And she did, even if very reluctantly. She would not repeat what happened three nights ago. She was not even horny. Well, not that much anyway. Damn Bellatrix.
After a long hour in the bath Hermione finally left it, feeling reborn. That's probably an exaggeration - she was just happy she didn't smell anymore. She dressed and went to make some brunch. French toast sounded good enough to satiate her hunger and the sweet tooth she was sporting this morning.
After eating that while reading newspapers (relieved there was nothing about Voldemort), she cleaned the table and finally left her flat.
A storm was raging outside her office walls. Wind, rain and thunder assaulting all of her senses. She was happier than ever for the constant warming charm. Yet she wished for actual fire to light the place up a bit. Nothing like the heat of fire and its orange light. It was early afternoon, but this place was always so dark and gloomy. She wondered if the Ministry was controlling the weather here.
The soul healer placed all the ingredients for the potions she needed to brew on her desk and decided to visit Bellatrix. She just couldn't wait any longer. Sure, she really needed to work on the potions since it was supposed to be done by now, but she also needed to see the older witch. The storm was unforgiving, what if Bellatrix was scared? Yeah, Hermione. Keep telling yourself that. Good job. She huffed, being frustrated with herself and left her office. Potions can wait a little longer.
When the soul healer reached the isolated cell on the fifth floor, she saw Bellatrix pacing back and forth, muttering something to herself. Chanting something like a crazy person. Which she wasn't!
"Hello, Bellatrix," Hermione started, the older witch hasn't even noticed her presence yet. She turned to look at the soul healer after the greeting, eyes cold and unforgiving like she wasn't even there. Then she started to pace again. "Can we talk?" the young woman asked, unsure of herself.
"Busy," the criminal barked out between her constant chanting.
"How can you be busy?" she chuckled. "You're locked up in a cell, remember?" she smiled, trying to ease the atmosphere. Bellatrix looked at her again, her stare giving Hermione goosebumps. And not in a good way. It was chilling, calculating… her smile dropped.
"Leave," she hissed and turned her back to the soul healer before she started pacing again.
The young witch's stomach clenched; her chest tightened… after a good minute she finally convinced her legs to take her out of there. Why was Bellatrix suddenly so cold to her?
Thinking of it, she was either hot or cold. Never something in between. Fire or ice. Well Hermione surely preferred fire, even if she was bound to get burned. When the fire licked at her skin, she was all confused and hot. She wanted more no matter what. When Bellatrix dropped her in ice, she was panicking, unsure of herself and in pain.
What did I do to her? Why is she like that all of a sudden? Hermione ran to her office on autopilot, not registering anything around her. This was not how her visit was supposed to go. Not by a long shot. The soul healer was afraid she would end up bent over the desk, she didn't anticipate being thrown out. Not at all. That was never a possibility in her mind. And she did come up with about five different scenarios.
"You look like you've seen a banshee," a voice from a cell she was just passing on the third floor stopped her spiraling mind.
"Hi, Fenrir," she forced out. "I –" she swallowed. Hermione would rather see a banshee than angry Bellatrix, if she was honest.
"You smell nice," he stated as he gripped the bars and sniffed the air.
"We've talked about this," she scolded him.
"I know, I know. The full moon is coming, my senses are stronger."
"Right," she nodded and crossed her arms over her chest protectively. She wasn't afraid of him, though. She tried to protect herself from her thoughts. "Do you have enough potion?"
"Running out, boss," he informed after he checked his supply.
"I'll make more," she sighed. That's why she was here today after all. Not because of Bellatrix.
"That would be nice," he replied, studying her.
She had to stop scratching her forearm, she always did that when she was nervous, anxious, unsure of herself… ground yourself!
Hermione finally looked up at him and saw his curious gaze. She checked his cell - small, stony with one old bed. And most importantly, no window. "Why don't you have a window here? Don't you want to look outside? Sniff some fresh air?"
"Who wouldn't want a window?" he replied lightheartedly.
"Would you be okay to move to another cell? We still have few empty ones. With windows," she added. "But if you like this cell I think I can manage to –"
"I'll move, it's not a problem," he reassured.
"Good, that's settled then. It's enough you're in chains…" she murmured.
"You do realize we're all here for a reason, right?" he chuckled. "We all did something to get a one-way ticket to this place."
"Not Harry," she said under her breath.
"The Potter kid did kill someone too, didn't he?"
"But he's underage and with a serious disease. He should be in St. Mungo instead of here. Imagine being a kid… the dementors were still here back then," she sighed and shook her head.
"Well, we're all twisted in a way," he smirked.
"Do you regret what you did?" Hermione asked carefully. They haven't really talked about it in their sessions yet.
"I regret taking her life. I don't regret biting her, I don't regret claiming her. She smelled nice," he said with a creepy smile on his face. "Like you," he added with an intense stare.
The soul healer shuddered. He's locked up, you're safe.
"Ehm," she cleared her throat. "The potion helps, right?"
"It prevents me from getting turned, but all the side-effects remain. My senses are stronger few days before the full moon, my nails sharpen and turn to claws. That's why we often wear gloves in the public. If you see anyone with gloves, run," he winked.
"Unless it's winter," she replied with a smile to lighten up the mood.
"No, even in winter. You see gloves, you run. We're hot-blooded creatures, you see? We're hardly ever cold. No need for us to wear gloves unless we want to hide the claws."
"Well, that's actually helpful, thank you."
"Hmmm."
"From what you just told me though, you do regret taking the girl's life, don't you?"
"Yes. I didn't mean to kill her; I just couldn't control it."
"So, you have a conscience."
"We all do," he shrugged. "Well, except Bellatrix of course," he laughed.
"What do you mean?" Hermione furrowed her brow.
"Have you asked Bella about hers yet?" Fenrir asked, still laughing.
"It's complicated," she replied. "She has a disorder."
"She's mental, that one," he said amused.
"We don't use that word."
"Let me put it this way then," he replied thoughtfully. "I'm a big guy, twice her size really. I know how to fight. Yet I wouldn't want to cross her way."
"How do you know her anyway?"
"We've met couple of times. I saw her from distance. As I said, it was not my intention to get in her way."
"Right," Hermione sighed. Bella was surely not all bad. She just needed help. "Well, thank you for the information about werewolves and how to spot them. I'm gonna go brew your potion now."
"Thanks," he replied and went to sit on his bed.
Hermione spent the whole afternoon brewing potions, but she worked on autopilot. Her mind was quite absent. She couldn't forget what Fenrir said. We all have a conscience, except Bellatrix. She also couldn't shake off the dismissal from this morning. All she could think of was Bellatrix, in one way or another. She decided to brew some Calming Draught and also the hangover reliever potion because it seemed like she would be needing it again.
If the soul healer wasn't distracted once again, she would start to brew the potion for Bellatrix, but it was a tricky one. She needed to focus 200% and she barely made 50% as of now. It would have to wait, but that was okay. She didn't think the raven-haired woman fancied drinking anything yet anyway. She added the final ingredient to the wolfbane potion and sat in her chair.
She was lucky she's made the potion a couple of times already because wolfsbane was a little more advanced than any other potion she brewed today. She was sure she got it right, though.
The storm was still raging, but from afar now. It was still pouring and lightening illuminated the sky every now and then, but at least it wasn't directly above their heads anymore. Her mood didn't improve, though. She was sure a certain witch was to blame for that. She groaned. I really shouldn't go see her, but …
She should check up on her. What if something bad happened (and clearly it did). She didn't need to go inside the cell, not even in front of it. Just close enough to deduce if Bellatrix was okay. Yes, she should do that. She was responsible for her after all. The fact that she wanted to see her had nothing to do with this.
Hermione leaned with her back on the stone wall next to Bellatrix's cell and took a deep breath. So what that she wanted to see her? They needed to talk about what happened that morning. What if the raven-haired woman needed help? They also needed to discuss what happened the last time she was in that cell. What kind of magic was the criminal using on her…
They simply needed to talk. That was all.
The soul healer heard footsteps, but no fingers encircled the bars so the older witch probably just moved around in her cell. She was so close. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe the young witch shouldn't be here. Hell, she surely shouldn't be here, but she couldn't help it. No, no she could. She should just leave. It's Saturday. They don't have any scheduled session; Hermione shouldn't even be in Azkaban today. The sensible thing would be to walk away. Yep, she should do just that.
"I know you're there, little bird. Why don't you come to me, hmm?" Bellatrix cooed and the girl's knees nearly gave out upon hearing that deep rich voice.
Well there goes my sensibility…
Hermione pulled away from the wall and walked over in front of the cell. She saw Bellatrix standing few feet from the bars, pinning her with a burning gaze. The older witch smiled upon seeing her and breathed out: "Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Come here, my sweet," she said and pointed with her finger right in front of herself. Hermione didn't think twice and just obeyed. She closed the cell behind herself, but didn't lock it. They both knew the criminal could get past her if she wanted even with the cell locked.
Once she was in front of the older woman, Bellatrix pushed her by the throat to the metal bars and pressed her body flushed against hers. "Did you miss me?" she purred, almost kissing her cheek, but not quite. Hermione wanted to lean in, but a pale hand held her steadily by her throat. The older woman caressed her arm with her other hand and inhaled deeply of her scent, almost moaning.
"I – I did," the soul healer breathed out.
"I missed you too," she purred, closing her hand around a peachy neck even more. It still wasn't unpleasant, though. The only unpleasant thing was the metal biting into her back and the restraints Bellatrix had on her wrist.
"I was here just this morning," Hermione managed to say and closed her eyes, inhaling the woman's perfume.
"You were?" she asked with a furrowed brow.
"Yes. And you sent me away," she replied with a trembling voice. How pathetic.
"I did?" she replied barely above a whisper. "I should make it up to you then, shouldn't I?" Bellatrix asked as she moved her hand from the front of Hermione's neck to the side, making space on the other side where her jugular was pumping madly. Then the criminal leaned in and snaked her tongue out to lick the pulsing vein from bottom to top.
The young witch whimpered and bit her lip to suppress the moan that was ripping out of her mouth. She however couldn't hold it in when Bellatrix bit her jaw teasingly, not quite inflicting real pain. The woman in question smirked and whispered to her ear: "just how much did you miss me, pet?"
"So much that I came here on Saturday," Hermione breathed out, trying to ignore the wetness between her legs. The raven-haired witch barely touched her and she was already dripping. Merlin, will I flood England when she actually does touch me?
"Aw, all because of me?" the criminal whispered and pushed her leg between Hermione's. The girl nodded, her mind going blank. She had a certain ache between her legs that only Bellatrix could soothe. "I can feel the heat radiating from your core, my sweet."
The young witch whimpered, trying to get any friction, but being unable to. The raven-haired goddess had her pinned between the bars and her body without any chance of moving her hips. And Merlin did she try…
"I'm almost tempted to let you dry hump me like the needy whore that you are," she husked, nibbing at a peachy jaw while observing the girl's reaction. The shock at her words was evident and she also tensed. "No, you're right. You are not a whore, you're my little soul healer, aren't you?"
Hermione nodded, eyes rolling back in her skull. She was absolutely desperate. She has never been so wet in her life, something about being a closeted gay probably. She was also never this aroused by another person. She needed Bellatrix to touch her. Her life depended on it. "Bella, please," she pleaded through a moan.
Bellatrix flexed the muscle in her thigh and the soul healer felt it directly on her clit. She moaned into her ear and gripped the woman's hips with her hands.
"Na-ah, hands back on the bars," she commanded and Hermione complied. "So obedient," the criminal husked. "I bet you would let me do anything now, wouldn't you?"
The girl just nodded, the ability to talk somehow left her.
"Just like the last time, isn't it? Did you want me to fuck you?" she asked and bit her neck to which Hermione moaned while trying to nod. "What a silly question, of course you did," she mused. "Hmmm, what to do with you…"
"Anything," Hermione choked out.
"Anything?" Bellatrix repeated with a smirk. "Would you strip –"
"Yes," she interrupted and if she had any space to start doing so, she would.
"Let me finish, pet," the criminal hissed, closing her hand around peachy neck in warning. "Would you strip and run around the prison naked for all the criminals to see?"
Hermione's eyes flew open at that and she gaped at the woman. She definitely didn't want to do that for so many reasons. No, there was no way she was doing it. Clarity returned to her and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She could not do that.
Bellatrix watched as the lustful haze lifted and groaned internally. She forgot her little soul healer was not conditioned yet. She was very submissive and obedient, but she still had her own mind and will. It would take more than one session to break her and bare all her barriers. "Of course, you don't want to do that. You know you're mine," she said, manipulating the girl back where she wanted her. "Only I can see you naked. Only I can touch you. My eyes and my hands only. No one else's."
Hermione nodded, but she observed Bellatrix through her lidded eyes. "You're not using Imperio on me then," she stated. She planned to ask at first, but the fact she didn't do mindlessly what the older woman wanted of her, was enough of a proof.
"Imperio?" the older witch cackled. "Oh my sweet girl, I don't need to."
"But would you be able to? Without a wand?" she asked as the haze slowly faded. She was still aching between her legs, very aware of the thigh pressing into her core, but she could see a bit more clearly now.
"Hmmm, I suppose a skilled Legilimens might be able to."
"Which you are?"
"Which I am, but I haven't tried it. Never needed it. You want to give it a shot?" she winked. Now this was even better than she thought.
"No, thank you."
"Then how will you know if someone uses the curse on you? You asked me if I did, so you clearly don't know how it feels. You wouldn't be able to tell."
"It's one of the unforgivable curses, no one will use it on me! They would end up – "
"In here?" Bellatrix grinned. "You are in a prison, my sweet. I don't think people have strong morals around here. I can teach you to fight it, but you first need to know what to look for."
Hermione was considering it. It's not like they would teach this at school. They barely touched mind magic. She tried her best on her own, but there was only so much she could read. It didn't mean this was a good idea, though. She's a criminal. Bellatrix could do just about anything. She could walk out of the prison for all Hermione knew. But then again, the older witch was here of her own will, they'd already established that.
Bellatrix watched amused as the wheels were turning in the soul healer's head and decided to make it easier for her. She pressed herself tightly against the girl again and shifted her leg so she brushed against the no-doubt sensitive core. Hermione moaned at that. The criminal lifted her hand and cupped a peachy cheek while nibbling at her jaw on the other side. When she reached her ear, she whispered: "don't you trust me, pet?"
And Hermione was torn. She didn't trust her, of course not. But then again, she kind of did.
"Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" the older witch husked out.
Every sensible person would see that this was definitely one of the reasons, but Hermione wasn't very sensible when it came to the raven-haired woman. "N-no," she breathed out.
"I'll take care of you," Bellatrix promised. "I'll just send you out of this cell and then back. Fully clothed, I promise," she smirked at her own joke.
"You do?"
"Pinky swear. Just that and then I'll give you your wand back."
"Okay," the girl relented. She did need to know how to detect and stop this curse after all. This was purely educational.
"Would you be a dear and hand me your wand then?" she asked quietly, afraid of breaking the haze again. She could probably cast it non-verbally, but she didn't want to take her chances.
The girl obeyed practically immediately and Bellatrix smirked before she murmured Imperio and pointed to her head. She watched as brown eyes clouded over, this time from an actual curse and not just lust and commanded: "leave this cell and retrieve my wand. Then bring it back to me."
It took about ten minutes before Hermione appeared again, but Bellatrix wasn't really troubled. Her Imperio was always very strong, even with someone else's wand. And it's not like something could happen to Hermione here. Everyone was locked up.
Her plan depended on Hermione's knowledge of the location of their wands, but clearly the girl knew where they kept them because she carried a black curved wand that belong to none other but Bellatrix herself. Clearly the soul healer also studied her file because she took only one wand – hers. If she didn't know which belonged to her, she would have just taken all of them.
"Close the cell, my dear," she commanded when Hermione went inside without a single care. Then she took her wand from the girl and hid it under the pillow. She went back in front of the soul healer that obediently awaited any other instruction and lifted the curse.
Hermione looked around, checked her clothes, her hands and then her eyes landed on the raven-haired woman. "Told you I wouldn't want you running around naked, didn't I?" she cackled. "So, how was it? What do you remember?"
"Absolutely nothing," she breathed out, trying desperately to catch any memory of the past few minutes.
Bellatrix hummed in agreement. "While you still remember what happened between us the last time you were here, correct? With your terrible taste in art and all that."
"Yes," she nodded, still a little out of herself. Did Bellatrix just erase some of her memories to trick her? No, that couldn't be because she did hear her cast the spell. This really was the aftermath of Imperius curse.
"So now you know the difference," she smirked. "As I said, I don't need to use it on you."
Hermione nodded absentmindedly. "What did you have me do?" she asked, almost scared of the answer, avoiding onyx eyes.
"Just as I said, you went outside of this cell and then back."
"Feels like I've been out for hours," she rubbed her forearm.
"Yes, time flies different when you're under a curse. Anyway, here is your wand, as promised."
"Right, thank you," she replied politely and took it back, eyes fixed on the floor.
"What is the core? It felt quite familiar."
"Dragon heartstring."
"Same as mine then," she nodded and when the soul healer didn't comment on it, she closed the distance between them. "Come here, pet," she purred and cupped a peachy cheek, lifting her chin. "While I am certain the floor is fascinating, I should reward you for being such a good girl," she said as she planted a ghost-like kiss on the other cheek. "What do you want?"
"Teach me how to fight it."
Bellatrix cackled. Of course, the teacher's pet chose this reward over any other. Well, so be it.
A/N: there's all kinds of wrong that Bellatrix did here. I'm aware. Sociopaths, huh? ;)
AND my plan is to have the next chapter from Bella's POV so wish me luck. Also, while she's a sociopath, she will have certain aspects that usually (never) don't come with that disorder. But I wouldn't want to read nor write about a character that gives zero crap about the other so…
As always, please feel free to join our lovely fb group Bellamione Land: fb/groups/398716687931372