Hermione flinched. She had trouble getting a hold of Lestrange's memories as they were tumbling through her mind, so she struggled to find whatever it was Voldemort would be looking for. What would the mad witch fantasise about? How could she ever imagine anything like what the disturbed mind of a loyal lapdog of the Dark Lord came up with?
But she also knew her time was up. Voldemort had studied her like a specimen under a microscope, his gaze following every little movement she made. And now he stood to the right of the bed, lazily stroking his cock as he watched her. Expectantly. Hungrily. She had to say something.
Maybe if she told him how she wanted him to hurt her, he wouldn't do that? From everything she witnessed through Lestrange's eyes, she hated the pain while Voldemort revelled in it. Maybe he would lose interest if she suddenly pretended to want it? It was her best bet at keeping him from touching her.
For a moment she closed her eyes. Recalled the vivid dreams she had had last night. Heat crept up her cheeks as embarrassment took hold of her whole body. She licked her lips. She was a Gryffindor, for crying out loud. Courage and determination were in her blood.
Then she met his gaze, stared right into his dark eyes that seemed to want to swallow her whole. "I want you to bind me until I can't move a single muscle. I want you to spank me until I bleed." She forced a breath out, shaking from the heady mixture of fear and arousal at the images her own words summoned in her mind. "I want to gag on your cock until I pass out."
Her heart hammered in her chest. Voldemort seemed to be frozen where he stood. The silence rang loud in her ears while she waited for his reply. She prayed that her gamble paid off. There was no way someone like Voldemort would enjoy a willing victim. He would simply bark out insults and then leave her alone, thinking that his dismissal would be a punishment for Bellatrix.
"Is that really what you want?" His voice sounded thick and dark, like he had trouble even forming the words.
It sent shivers down her spine. That tone spoke of promises, of pain to come. His eyes seemed black as he devoured her with his gaze. Hermione could only nod.
It was a gamble to dissuade him from touching her.
It was the truth, buried deep in her subconscious.
She watched as Voldemort stretched out his hand almost in slow motion and without so much as a gesture or a spoken word, he summoned his wand into his hand. She hated how easy magic seemed to be for him. How much control he had over the fabric of the world. She wanted that. Magic was never easy for her, she had to study long and hard and relentlessly because it never came to her naturally. It was unfair that this monster had such a command on the craft. She resented him for it.
But her body reacted to this display of raw power in its own way. Heat bloomed between her legs, making her rub her thighs against each other in an effort to release some of the tension.
"I can give you everything you want, my sweet," Voldemort growled, pointing his wand at her. "I like the fantasy you told me. So let's make it all come true, mh? We have a whole night ahead of us."
Before she could say another words, conjured ropes slid across her body. Like sensual conscious being, the ropes caressed her thighs and her breast, weaving around her ankles and wrists, forcing her arms to her back where they pulled tight. With each knot that formed, Hermione could feel the rough texture bite into her skin, leaving angry red marks behind even now. Every part of her body tingled in anticipation and burned from the pain.
When a last rope firmly attached her ankles to the knot around her wrists, she realised that her ill-conceived wish came true: She could not move a muscle without causing herself pain. A sob, half pain, half fear, escaped her throat.
"Perfect," Voldemort purred, carelessly discarding his wand once more.
He stepped closer to the bed and reached for the bushy mess of her hair, pulling her up into a kneeling position at the edge of the mattress. Wide eye, she looked up at him. Her heart beat loud and hard in her chest, but despite her panic, she still felt the heat pulse between her thighs. This was all wrong, so very wrong.
"What do you want first?" Dark amusement laced his rough voice. "Gag on my cock until you lose consciousness? Or get spanked until you bleed?"
More than before Hermione wished she could end the stupid ritual and just return to the safety of the cottage. There was an eagerness in Voldemort's eyes that made her skin crawl. She had completely misread him. Right in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to hurt her. Really hurt her.
"Please," she desperately cried out, "I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to provoke you."
He gently stroked her cheek with one of his long, cool fingers. "Now, now, sweet girl. I am just fulfilling your fantasy, remember?"
"No, I'm sorry, I lied. This isn't what I want. Please. I don't want this." She could feel tears forming despite her struggle to remain in character for Bellatrix Lestrange. She did not want to blow her cover, but she really, really didn't want him to touch her any longer.
"Oh, dearest, I don't think that's the truth." He grabbed her throat and pressed his thumb under her chin, forcing her head even further back. "For the first time, I feel like you actually do want this. And I would be a very bad lover if I denied you now, wouldn't I?"
His other hand closed around his cock again, bringing it close to her lips. Unsure of what to do, Hermione looked up. Those dark eyes watched her closely, studying her face. He could see the hunger in them, but it was controlled. Even now, his hard length in hand, he held back, following whatever plan he had in his mind. Every move was calculated. The few times she had watched him in bed with Bellatrix, this was the one thing she always noticed. He never truly let go.
He was surprisingly patient as well, Hermione realised. While she sat here, despairing about what to do, he simply waited. She took a slow, deep breath.
"You're not going to kill me, right?"
There was the smallest twitch in the hand around her throat, but otherwise, he remained calm and kept his superior grin. She wished she could read him better, but the little she could glean from Lestrange's memories, the woman never learned how to read him. He shook his head once. "You are about to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. You are too valuable to kill off, even if you displease me."
Right. As long as he thought that she was Bellatrix, he would not actually harm her. She would survive this. She could get through this. Maybe he was somewhat human still. She just had to conceal that she was absolutely inexperienced in all of this.
"I can see every thought reflected in your eyes, darling," Voldemort told her then. "It's time to stop thinking. Open up."
The last words came out as a rough growl. Instantly, another wave of heat shot through Hermione's body. Without another thought, she opened her mouth wide, staring up into his eyes.
His cock touched her lips and she realised that she had to open even wider. Hot and heavy, he slid over her tongue. Still, one hand held her throat firmly in place, while the other now grabbed a handful of her wild locks, practically fixing her head in place.
He no longer smiled. His dark eyes burned with indescribable emotions that spoke of all the things he wanted to do to her. He pumped slowly into her mouth, shallow, languid movements, not even touching the back of her throat. His intense gaze never leaving her eyes, binding her to him.
Suddenly, there was the lightest touch all over her body, as though a satin blanket lighter than a feather slid over her skin. It felt cool and burning at the same time. His magic. He channelled his magic to probe hers, not even holding his wand to do so.
She moaned around his cock. The power she felt in his lightest touch of magic made her shiver. She always heard that the only one superior to Voldemort was Dumbledore, but she never realised what that truly meant. He lived and breathed magic. The power he commanded was like nothing she had ever witnessed before.
It was intoxicating.
His movements became deeper, pressing further into her mouth. His eyes remained dark flames intensely focused on her, no other emotion present in his face. He used both hands to angle her differently, then he pushed further. Trying hard to keep breathing and relax, Hermione held his gaze as if it were a lifeline.
The feel of his magic on her body grew stronger. With each thrust of his hip, she could feel his cool magic pulse around every inch of her skin. Still probing, testing, coaxing her own magic out. She didn't know how to answer that and even if she did, she was to focused on his hot and hard length in her mouth.
In what felt like one single movement, Voldemort pulled harder on her hair and dug his fingers deeper into the soft skin of her neck while at the same time slipping deeper into her throat. Simultaneously, his magic suddenly seemed to ignite on her skin, burning with a cold heat that threatened to consume her.
Wide eyed, she stared up at him. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. He stared back, mouth slightly open, his own breathing heavy and hungry. For a moment he remained still, his cock buried deep in her, as she fought desperately not to gag. Tears and drool ran freely down her cheeks and chin, but the only thing she felt, the only thing she knew was the feel of his magic against hers.
Then he pulled back again for just a moment before thrusting back into. It hurt and almost made her gag and still she could only moan. Still she could only stare into his eyes, where a slight crease was now visible between his eyebrows. The rest of his face remained calm, but she could feel in his magic that he was not so unaffected. The hunger in his eyes grew. With each thrust, he got more reckless. Not allowing her enough time to breathe, the grip around her throat becoming harder, using her mouth for his own pleasure without a care for her.
It was addicting. To be witness to such power, reckless and all-consuming and still so in control. Hermione didn't care that her vision began to blur. She didn't even notice when her eyes fell close on their own. She wanted more of his magic. More of him.
Then everything went black.
He felt her go limp beneath him. He had to struggle to let go of her. When he did, she fell backwards onto the bed, still bound by his ropes.
Blinking, Voldemort struggled to catch his breath. This witch was full of surprises. He liked to probe the magical aura of wizards and witches around him, as it often told a story of power – or the lack thereof – that his followers didn't want him to know. He especially liked it since nobody ever noticed it. He could dissect their magic and evaluate their level without being detected.
But this witch, whoever she was, she had noticed right from the first careful touch. Even Bellatrix, so accomplished in Occlumency, never knew that he regularly tested her. One had to have enormous magical potential to even be aware of one's own magical aura.
He wanted nothing more than to slip into her mind and find out everything right now. At the same time, he wanted to continue with her fantasy. Her hatred of him was delicious, he could almost taste it in her aura. And yet, she moaned around his cock so beautifully. Taking him so well, never protesting, giving herself to him fully.
This was what true submission looked like. Not the unwilling fake kind that Bella showed him. The thought of having this witch in his bed at all times instead of Bellatrix was tempting. Maybe he could go out and find her once she left Bella's mind.
Wouldn't that be glorious? Have someone from Dumbledore's very own people for himself, turning her into a perfect little doll and using her vast potential for his personal goals.
Voldemort shook his head and instead climbed onto the bed with her. He was getting ahead of himself. First things first.
The witch was still unconscious. He rolled her onto her back and spread her legs. Instantly, he could smell her arousal, wet and sticky between her legs. He couldn't help but grin. Yes, this was a witch that wanted to be used.
He leaned farther over her and lower his face until he could suck one of her nipples between his lips. At the same time, he sank two fingers into her hot wetness.