"I'll update before the weekend" she said "I promise" she said.
-ahem-
I hope you can forgive me. I actually wrote chapter seven before this one. I scrapped chapter six at least twice and to be honest I'm still not 100% satisfied (it probably shows) though I hope some smut might make it up to you. Yes? No…?
I'm pretty sure my replies to your reviews sent but I'll just put some extra stuff here if you don't mind.
Kaiamz: I'm not entirely sure how long this will be. At the moment I'm making it up as I go along with a rough idea in my head for the plot. It may or may not continue after the end of the DH part 2 :)
Amaranta: Thank you, I'll probably ease back on some of the torture towards Hermione…for now xD The other day I was playing around with the idea of a Stockholm Syndrome-like effect between her and Bellatrix but I'll see if I can actually pull it off in later chapters.
Oh yeah, I made a few things up, you'll probably find them and the timeline doesn't align with the movies so smoothly but that was intended (I don't plan to follow it scene by scene…plagiarism yo.)
So yes, this chapter is a tad shorter than usual. I did treat it more of a filler/snapshots of scenes but you'll see that some things have seeded from here later on.
Chapter seven is done and it'll be up later in the week. Happy hump day! I'm off to do assignments.
Chapter Six
The tension was thick. Hermione's knuckles had turned white, gripping onto the desk as if her life depended on it. Perspiration beaded her exposed skin, her sensors on high alert. The woman had not moved her finger from above the girl's navel. It was the lightest touch – enough so that Hermione could feel her but without getting her hands dirty, if such a thing was even possible. Narcissa was poised above the brunette, her cold exterior shadowing the amusement she felt within. Hermione's chest rose and fell in deep movements. The curvature of her breasts had not gone unnoticed; the lady of the house had made no effort in pretending that she wasn't looking. Strangely, Hermione was more embarrassed by her choice of underwear than anything else. Mismatched cotton would not have been her first choice if she had any inkling that she would be standing naked in front of the woman who regularly appeared in her fantasies. But how could she have known? She didn't deem it possible.
Indeed, even with minimalist makeup, Narcissa's skin had remained youthful bar the few crow's feet in the corner of her eyes. Her features were exquisite. Without her coat, the silver dress revealed her neckline and the swell of her breasts. She was beautiful. Hermione noticed that Bellatrix had left more than one mark upon the woman. In the corner of the blonde's mouth, Hermione spied remnants of the Death Eater's lipstick. The very same she had wiped off her own lips.
"Is there something on your mind?" Narcissa purred as if reading her thoughts and Hermione wondered if she too was a trained Legilimen.
The student attempted to conceal the blush that had crept across her face by changing her mindset completely.
"Madame Malfoy, please, won't you tell me what your son has to do?"
The aristocratic woman removed her finger and arched herself over Hermione, her hands now on the desk, either side of the Gryffindor. Narcissa leant down and rested her cheek beside the brunette's. The difference in temperature was pronounced between the two women, Hermione's skin cooling against the icy pureblood.
"I did not come in here to discuss politics with you, Miss Granger."
Teeth lightly scraped the brunette's neck, sending shivers down her spine. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, a weak moan escaping her lips. Exploring hands worked their way around the girl's body, deliberately boycotting the two pieces of cloth that left little to the imagination.
"Your sister told you?" Was all that she could reply.
Narcissa hummed against the pulse point on Hermione's neck, her fingers dancing on her clavicle as Bellatrix had done earlier.
"I too have eyes, Miss Granger. I am not blind."
The blonde caressed the girl's fingers, easing them from the wood and placing them on her waist. She knew what she wanted and Hermione followed her instructions.
Narcissa lowered the bra so it was beneath Hermione's breasts, cupping the swell in her hands. Her pink nipples needed little stimulation as they quickly hardened to the woman's touch. The Gryffindor's breath was heavy, looking down at slender fingers pinching and massaging the swollen buds. Softly, the woman kissed her lips. She tasted of expensive wine and Hermione rolled her eyes back in ecstasy as her tongue invaded her mouth. As she moaned, Narcissa placed her other hand on her knickers, rubbing above the material.
"How much do you want it, Miss Granger?"
Hermione pushed her hips towards the woman, lusting for pressure. She was ashamed by her actions but at this point, when she was so close, she didn't seem to care. The brunette tightened her hold of the woman as fingers slipped under her underwear.
"Miss Granger,"
The blonde teased the girl, her fingers exploring the wet folds before focusing on her clit, rubbing in a circular motion.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione's core was burning as she massaged Narcissa's tongue with her own, loving the sound of her own name.
"Miss Granger!"
Her eyes snapped open; the icy eyes of the mistress had disappeared and were replaced with the taciturnity of her Transfiguration teacher.
"Miss Granger, look lively! Or is a wizard's skeletal disproportion when he unsuccessfully transforms from a toad boring you?" Her eyebrows knit as she peered at the blushing student from over her glasses. It was unlike Hermione to lose concentration in her classes, she was her top student.
"My…my apologies, Professor." She stammered, looking down. She could feel the dampness between her legs, a sense of shame washing over her.
"Your classmates will hope that you're sorry, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor."
McGonagall had been lenient, her bias saving the girl from what would normally be a week worth of detentions.
"'Mione!" Ron elbowed her in annoyance.
The Slytherins on the opposite side of the classroom snickered at their maroon dressed peers.
This wasn't the first time that Hermione had daydreamt in class. It was becoming a common occurrence. She couldn't shake the woman from her mind.
O~O~O
After lunch, Hermione left the Great Hall with her friends and climbed the stairs to the Hospital Wing. The trio finally had a free period that coincided with visiting hours and hoped that Madame Pomfrey would be in a cooperative mood. Two weeks ago, between Hermione returning to Hogsmeade and students leaving to go back to school, a Gryffindor named Katie Bell had been cursed by a bewitched necklace. She had been rushed to St Mungo's hospital but earlier this week was transferred back to Hogwarts. The incident had rocked the school. No one had expected a student to be targeted while on an excursion and as a result, all future Hogsmeade weekends were suspended until further notice. For Hermione, she couldn't think of anything worse. Without the weekends, all legitimate pathways out of the school grounds were closed. She couldn't afford to wait if Bellatrix called before the Christmas break.
As they entered the sanitised space, the three spied the hospital's matron who was tending to a student, his face a striking shade of violet.
"Looks like one of Fred and George's Bleaching Bloosberries. They dye ya whole body purple!" Ron couldn't contain his fits of laughter, remembering when he tried out the practical joke on his sister.
"Ah, Mr Weasley," the nurse left her post and made her way over to the visitors, pinching the ginger boy's ear "you can tell your brothers to stop recommending Bloosberries, Puking Pastels and Grow-Grow Beards. I am sick to death of having students coming in here and taking up beds for those who are actually ill!"
"Ouch, bloody hell! Yes, I will Madame Pomfrey!"
The stern woman released her hold of the wincing Gryffindor, a victorious smile spreading over her face. Harry and Hermione held their tongues, suppressing the hilarity of the moment as Ron rubbed his sore ear.
"I assume you're here to see Miss Bell? You're in luck, she woke up late last night but she is still very weak. No interrogating. I'm looking at you Mr Potter."
Harry nodded and the three followed the nurse to a private bed. She pulled back the curtain instructing them to stay put while she checked on the patient. After a moment she reappeared.
"You may come in." Drawing back the curtain, the three Gryffindors huddled around the bed where a frail girl lay.
Madame Pomfrey took out a golden pocket watch and observed the time.
"You have half an hour. No more. Her parents will be soon arriving. I hope you understand the importance of family." With that, she shut the curtain and left the four students alone.
Hermione was the first to break the silence.
"We're so glad that you're awake, Katie. Everyone has been so worried. How do you feel?"
The girl smiled up at her visitors, happy to have some familiar faces around her.
"Much better now that you're here, thanks. Madame Pomfrey said I had been here for two weeks; I had no idea that I was out for so long. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape came to see me this morning. They said I was lucky to be alive."
She encouraged the three to laugh, noting the obvious discomfort on their faces.
"We're very fortunate that Madame Pomfrey is such a good healer." Harry added. "Say, Katie, do you happen to remember what happened that day?"
Hermione shot Harry a warning look. This was exactly what the nurse had said not to do. He pretended not to notice and returned his attention to the girl. The trio had been in the room when Katie's friend told Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall what had happened. Katie had left to go to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and when she came out she was holding a package. She claimed it was for the headmaster but her curiosities got the better of her and upon touching the necklace, her body rose into the air before plummeting to the snow. The magic had certainly been powerful. Doctors at St Mungo's had worked on her for over nine hours and in the end she regained a stable condition. Harry was the first to accuse Draco of the attack, his suspicions never waning for the pureblood. Hermione had considered the allegation and couldn't help but panic as she thought of the vow.
"I'm sorry Harry, I can't. If I could, I would tell you everything, I swear. The doctors say it's unlikely I'll ever remember that moment though."
He nodded, unable to mask his disappointment.
"We're just glad you're okay, Katie."
The four of them continued talking, updating their friend on what had been happening while she was sick. When Madame Pomfrey told them that their time was up they said their goodbyes to Katie and left the hospital wing to get ready for their next class.
O~O~O
Gryffindor was in high spirits that night. The Common Room was full of maroon coloured jerseys and scarfs after the Quidditch tournament earlier that day. It was a time of celebration but that was the last thing Hermione felt like doing. She had attempted to join in on the festivities but a numbing sensation in her upper neck had deflated her mood and made her heart race. While her House mates cheered on their sporting heroes, the brunette found herself spacing out. She was calling.
The commotion in the confined space escalated. Hermione looked over at Ron just in time to see him snogging Lavender Brown. The room went berserk. A pang in her chest reminded Hermione of the comparison between Ron and Bellatrix's lips. He had been so rough and his maws were sloppy from sick tasting saliva. On the other hand, the Death Eater was soft, her full lips lingering on Hermione's and she remembered the flame that had ignited in her stomach before the dark witch pulled away. She was still unsure of how she really felt towards Bellatrix. There was danger and seduction that when combined, brewed a lethal sexual appeal however the cruelty was something that Hermione could bear without. If she had the composure of Narcissa…
She left the Common Room, hoping to go unnoticed. The unexpressed emotion had been building for quite some time. There was no one who she could talk to. Not her friends, not her teachers, no one. She had received specific instructions from Narcissa to keep their agreement in the dark but the pressures of life and death regularly ate away at her and now that the all so familiar pain had returned she worried for her own health. Sitting at the bottom of the stairwell, she cried. Alone, she took comfort in her own thoughts, confiding in the birds she had transfigured from discarded streamers.
The feelings for the blonde aristocrat had somewhat increased since their last encounter. It had become almost an obsession to take out the photograph before she slept; gazing at the young Slytherin she was bound to. How she longed to talk without the formalities and the blood-status segregations. Narcissa was an ice queen. Her alluring beauty – flawless. Yet though her persona towards Hermione was cold, the young witch couldn't help but feel the need to impress her. When it came to authority she was emotionally driven. There was a primal instinct inside her to be liked, to not be abandoned. Even Snape, who cared for no one but Slytherins, somewhat respected her. She felt like she had something to prove to the women.
Footsteps disturbed her thoughts. Turning around Harry was half way down the stairs, a concerned look spread across his face.
"What's with the birds?" He said, breaking the tension.
Hermione wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"Just practicing my charms, it's nothing really."
The Boy-Who-Lived sat down beside her, a comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders. Together they sat like that in silence, watching the birds dip and somersault above them. All Hermione could think about was Narcissa. The way in which she had saved her from Bellatrix's torture. The glacial magnetism of her eyes. The elegance of her demeanour. Her proud, statuesque composure. Despite it all, the woman would never associate with those who were not of pureblood status. Hermione had only the vow which tied her to the inner circle of the wizarding elites. Once it was broken, all bonds will be severed.
"How does it feel Harry? How does it feel when you see Dean with Ginny?"
Harry remained silent, a sadness washing over him.
"I see the way you look at her." Half talking to her friend, half to herself.
At that moment Ron and Lavender came hand in hand into the room, searching for a more comfortable setting. It was enough to push Hermione over the top and she sent the birds nosediving towards the couple. Yes, she was jealous but not over the ginger haired boy.
How can he get what he wants so freely? Without the stigma and the unreciprocated needs and the impossibilities…
The couple left as quickly as they had come and her body slumped against Harry's. She felt so worn down by the stress and emotion. The girl hung onto her friend's shirt as if it would stop her falling off the edge of the Earth and into a cavern of hopelessness. Sobs were muffled against the boy's jersey. He knew how it felt to love someone who he could not be with.
"It feels exactly like this Hermione."
The brunette took security within her friend's arms. Two hearts longing for something they each could not have.
"Maybe this Christmas you and Ron can, I dunno, make amends?"
Hermione's breath hitched. She could forgive Harry for assuming Ron was the reason behind her tears but he did not, could not understand that she longed to pick a forbidden fruit from its tree.
"I'm not sure if I'll be coming to the Burrow for Christmas this year, Harry. I haven't spent the holidays with my family in so long. Besides, with the way we've been fighting lately I doubt I would be welcome."
It's true that Harry had noticed his friends at each other's throats – more than usual. Often he had to step in to defuse the situation. It didn't help that Lavender had been tailing Ron for months either.
"You know that's not true, Hermione. Mrs Weasley would love to see you."
"I know. But I think I'd like to go home."
The numbness had faded and was replaced with a dull pain. The holidays couldn't come soon enough.