Disclaimer: All characters, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I'm sure as hell not profiting from this work.
Thanks Pamela RR!
The questions suffocating her mind prevented her from hearing what was being spoken above. Warm tears started to descend down her cheeks and if she were being honest, she wasn't sure why. Was she jealous? Disgusted? If so, disgusted at whom? Him? Bellatrix? Herself? Hermione roughly pushed the offending tears from her face, looking at the clear salty liquid as she rubbed it between her fingers. Don't dwell on yourself, Hermione! What did Bellarix do? What did she put in her- Hermione slowed down trying to answer her own questions, as realization came. He's hiding them. The Horcruxes. She could feel the onset of tears forming again. It seems the opposite sex has a way of making me cry. No troll or Yule Ball required. Hermione proceeded to wipe her face as she thought about her past encounters. Particularly with a red-headed prat named Ronald. Not only was she trapped...literally, but she was trapped in her head and in her heart. The idea of Harry fighting for the greater good mixed with the thought of another witch, touching something she secretly claimed for herself, made every nerve in her body quiver with a dull pain. She closed her eyes, taking a minute to quiet her brain, deciding instead to tune into the conversation that wasn't playing in her head.
"Such desires are futile, Bella. There is still much that needs to be done and my time is very valuable. I refuse to waste it on such primal instincts." Hermione could feel a scowl stretch on her lips from her lover's hypocritical comment. Not that she minded. She just wanted the other witch gone.
"My lord, forgive me, but it was only requested in hopes that it might help you. Perhaps-" Hermione could hear the heels of the witch's leather boots as they clicked against the wooden floor. She realized the dark witch was coming around the desk as the hem of her dark colored robe came into view. Damn! Hermione pushed herself further against the desk, Voldemort's hand gripping her shoulder harder. She was unclear if it was supposed to be comforting, but in an awkward way his touch had become that to her.
"Remove your hand from my person, Bella. I don't believe I gave you permission to come near me."
"Forgive me, my lord. Hermione watched as the hem of Bellatrix's robe retreated from her view.
"Now, leave me. I have matters to attend to."
"Yes, my lord," answered Bellatrix. Hermione heard the sound of the heavy wooden door close and the mechanism of a lock setting into place. She released a deep breath, relieved that they were again alone. Voldemort pushed his chair away from his desk, providing a significant amount of space for Hermione to make an appearance. She swiftly moved from her crouched position, making sure to grab her robe from the floor next to her. Slipping the covering over her shoulders, she readied herself for whatever conversation was about to happen. As she turned to face him, her breath caught in her throat. The scene in front of her was utterly picturesque. His eyes bore into hers as he sat in his chair as though it were a throne. Silent. A sacrificial virgin being offered to an ancient god. At that very instant, something happened. Hermione wasn't sure if it was an epiphany or simply coming to the realization of her current position in life. All she knew was that she had a plan. Was it a concrete plan? Perhaps not, but she was a witch after all and there was magic in this world that she had yet to explore. Hermione made her way towards him, a grin emerging on her face. She raised her hand to meet his face, but before it made contact with his skin, she stopped and lowered her hand to her side. Voldemort's forehead furrowed.
"Forgive me," she so innocently said. "Do I have permission to touch you?" The speed of Voldemort's grip around her waist caught her off guard. The chuckle she was meant to release came out more as a gust of air. Her knees were now on each side of his thighs, straddling him on his would be throne. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
"I detest mockery," he hissed, sliding the unfastened robe back off her shoulders.
"Is that so?" inquired Hermione, grinding her center across his hardened length. "It doesn't feel that way." Voldemort's arms tightened around her body, instantly they were on his bed, his robes long vanished. Hermione melted into his arms, relishing in the feeling of his chest pressed firmly against her back. His long fingers weaved within her hair, holding it up for his tongue to explore the length of her neck, her jawline, her mouth. The stimulation was overwhelming in the most exhilarating way. Her response only to press her bum harder against him, wanting to feel his flesh cover every part of hers. His response, the moan she already knew so well. The sound that made her eager body ache for more. Voldemort's lips ensnared hers in a possessive kiss, his tongue thrusting deliciously in her mouth, promising to her what his member will be doing soon. His long fingers gripped her waist, then made their way around to greet her inviting center. Hermione moved her arm over her head, pulling his face down for another scourging kiss, his fingers now rubbing her swollen nub.
"Don't ever stop touching me," he whispered in her ear, right as she felt the force of his cock dive deep inside her. His arms were now around her, kneading her breasts while he moved in and out of her at a wickedly slow, but intoxicating pace.
"Never," cried Hermione, holding his hands that were locked on her chest. "I'll never stop." Her words seemingly causing him to expedite the motion of his hips. Hermione was dangerously close to her climax, trying hard with everything in her being to not come. She wanted to feel this for as long as she could. Her brain was mush and it was wonderful. Alas, her body gave up. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drown in the sweet ache that moved from her core to her belly and beyond. The sensation was so raw and different this time. Not only did she recognize her own release, but something else. Something hidden within it. The vibration soared through her body filling her insides with...His moaning intensifying, the sound intensifying the last wave of her orgasm as he came inside her. "I will be the only one now, to share your bed." She wasn't sure what made her say it at that very moment, perhaps, it was the fact that he was still inside her or maybe it was the feeling of his breath still playing across the sensitive skin under her ear. His embrace loosened around her. The sweat on her body started to cool from the chill in the air. Maybe silence is better. Hermione didn't turn her head to look at him, she merely repositioned herself, pulling her spent body underneath the heavy warmth of the blanket.
Hermione's eyes opened to meet a silver stream of moonlight, seeping through the gap of the drawn curtains. Her head moved to the brass skeleton clock sitting on the nightstand, the antique device's hands displaying a time of 11:25. With a huff, she dropped her head back on the pillow, turning her body to the wizard next to her. His back was facing her and from the sound of his steady breathing he seemed to be fast asleep. The glow from the fire mixed with the moon gave his skin an otherworldly look. A tinge of pale blue mixed with gray. The color looking more pronounced against the darkness of the covers. Hermione closed her eyes, remembering everything that happened in the course of the day. The pain he went through that morning, which she was definitely sure was due to the Horcrux. That only being verified with the arrival of Bellatrix at the most inappropriate time. The idea of Bellatrix with him caused her stomach to tie in knots. Did she make him moan the same way? Hermione shook her head, physically trying to remove the image from her brain. It had to happen. Even if the thought repulsed her, it managed to stroke the flame buried deep within her. The same flame that made her who she was. The after was perfect. Feeling him inside her, his power was a feeling one could not put into words. Hermione moved closer to his sleeping form, her bare chest pressed against his cool back. She slid her arm over him, instantly feeling his fingers wrap around her wrist, then loosening as he placed her hand over his heart, his fingers lacing with hers. She placed her face at the base of his neck rubbing her cheek on his skin, marking her territory like a territorial feline. Prophecies can go fuck themselves. Harry will win this war and I...will still get my wizard. Hermione closed her eyes, curling herself into his body, taking in their mingled scents as she drifted to sleep.