Hermione sat up abruptly, a noise woke her but she couldn’t place it. The room was dark but everything seemed quiet, except... there. She spun around, and stifled a gasp. Bellatrix. She swallowed hard. The dark witch’s lips curled in her signature smirk and Hermione couldn’t look away. She had never really had the opportunity to take her in fully in their past encounters. If there was ever a woman who embraced her reputation and dressed to match, it was Bellatrix. Bared shoulders, long leather sleeves, black corset that clung to her body like a glove and a flowing black skirt that showed off her curves with a long slit up the side that teased with glimpses of bared thigh as the woman stalked closer. She knew she was blushing and forced her gaze upwards, but got stuck on the raven skull necklace neatly framed by perfect cleavage. She whimpered, her throat dry.
She was unable to move, utterly caught by the woman’s gaze. When Bellatrix crawled onto the bed she made a half hearted attempt to reach for her wand, which lasted only until the dark witch caught her wrist and shushed her, “Shh, pet. I’ve got you.” She didn’t resist when Bellatrix grabbed her other wrist, or when both her hands were tugged above her head. She heard the older witch whisper a sticking charm and knew she was good and truly trapped.
Bellatrix was practically on top of her now, and it was getting harder to think. She closed her eyes, any thoughts of right or wrong forgotten, there was only Bellatrix. Her scent was all around her, something spicy with a hint of flowers, the same perfume she vaguely remembered from the manor. She felt hands under the thin camisole she slept in, mapping out her body and leaving trails of blazing desire in their path. Then the dark witch’s mouth was at her throat, soft lips tasting her, the feel of her tongue and a hint of teeth dragging a throaty moan out of her.
She felt like she was burning up, she tried to spread her legs, to arch her back, but she knew she was at the older witch’s mercy. One of the dark witch’s hands was palming her left breast but it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. When she felt kisses on her jaw, by her ear, then teeth and lips around her earlobe, it was like a part of her brain short circuited. “Please,” she whimpered. The other witch paused, and she could feel her soft breath on her ear. “You are mine”, Bellatrix hissed. The sheer possessiveness in her voice only served to stoke her arousal to new heights. She nodded, biting her lip hard to hold back another wanton moan. “Say it,” the dark witch commanded.
“I am yours,” Hermione whispered, and was rewarded with a sharp tug on her nipple. She hissed in a breath, the coil of her arousal tightening. “Please! I am yours,” she moaned. Just then, slim fingers pushed under her by now soaked panties and two fingers circled her clit, making her gasp as pleasure coiled through her body. “Come home, Hermione”, the dark witch whispered, before leaning in to suck on her throat. The world exploded in pleasure and Hermione screamed.
Hermione woke with a strangled scream. Desperately panting for air, she sat up in her bed and took stock. No Bellatrix, check. Early morning, check. Ruined panties, check. She collapsed back on the bed and covered her face, what the hell was that? That felt way too real. Had she been through some kind of latent sexual awakening that came with dream orgasms? She couldn’t discount it - apparently she hadn’t even known what true arousal was until she met Bellatrix. She idly scratched at the scar on her arm which still seemed to be almost alive, happily humming under her fingers. On the other hand, it could have been some kind of dream magic. Had Bellatrix been in her mind? They were connected through a soul bond, so it stood to reason a mental connection was possible too.
She needed more information but wasn’t sure where to find it, a feeling Hermione Granger definitely didn’t like. She tried to imagine asking Fleur about it, but what could she say? “Hey Fleur, do you know if she can send sex dreams through this Soul Bond, or am I just that gay?” She snorted. That would go over well.
No, she resolved not to think about Bellatrix bloody Lestrange ever again. She rolled out of bed with a sigh and snuck out of the room to find the bathroom, glad everyone else seemed to be still asleep. A quick shower later, as she brushed her teeth and dressed in some of Fleur’s old clothes - the skirt fit just fine, the shirt fit after a quick wave of her wand (which worked just as well as her own wand, and felt comforting in her hand for reasons she refused to contemplate) - she felt almost herself again.
She hummed under her breath as she went down to the kitchen and made some toast, and by the time her two best friends came down she was comfortably settled on the couch by the fireplace with a muggle mystery novel she’d found.
“Blimey, Hermione! It’s so good to see you are okay, Fleur wouldn’t say a thing”, Ron exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her which she tried to accept with grace. She offered a bland smile, “I’ve been better”, she admitted. She studied her two best friends as they sat down next to her, but they didn’t really look any worse for wear. Too thin and a little weary of course, but hiding in a tent and avoiding death eaters for months did take its toll.
“Are you two alright? You weren’t tortured?”, she checked, frowning when they both winced. “Not unless you count having to listen to your screams,” Harry said, which made Hermione flush. She hoped it was only her screams of pain they’d heard. “God Hermione, we thought you were dying!” he finished. “Certainly felt like it”, she muttered, feeling a strange satisfaction when they both flinched.
“Listen…”, she glanced to the kitchen where Fleur and Bill were just now making breakfast and coffee, and grabbed her wand to cast a quick muffliato. “I’ve been thinking.. we’ve been looking for months and we’ve only managed to destroy one Horcrux, we are no closer to destroying the rest. Don’t you think… ” it’s time to involve the rest of the Order?, she was about to say, when an insistent thought pressed, Would Bellatrix want her to do that?. She tried to open her mouth, to press on with what she wanted to say, but the feeling of sheer betrayal running through her made her choke, much to the confusion of her two friends.
She knew she was starting to hyperventilate, she could feel the panic attack coming from a mile away, so she quickly stood and managed, “I’m sorry, I.. don’t feel so good. I need to lie down.” She ran for the stairs, managed to get to her room and shut the door, before she collapsed on her bed and hugged herself tightly. She tried to get her breathing under control, but just as she managed, she broke down sobbing instead. She didn’t understand, was Bellatrix controlling her somehow? No.. it had been the feeling of her own mind protesting her actions, like she was betraying herself somehow. The problem was that she knew that Bellatrix would consider it a betrayal, something she had not even considered until then. Fleur had been right last night, she couldn’t be trusted.
She must be going crazy. She was fighting a war, while bound to someone on the other side - someone she couldn’t betray, didn’t want to betray, and for what? A master who would probably kill her as soon as speak to her? Would Bellatrix protect her from her master? Would she even want to? She laughed hysterically even as she sobbed. Gods, she wished she could see Bellatrix, just to talk to her, and wasn’t that fucked up? Did the Bond even go both ways? For all she knew, Bellatrix would kill her the moment she walked through the doors.
A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts, and she froze. “Can I come in?”, a soft voice. Fleur. She wiped at her eyes and tried to get herself under control. “Come in”, she called.
Fleur slipped in. She must have looked a mess because the woman took one look at her, then sat down and gave her a hug. “What’s wrong?”, she whispered. Hermione stifled a hysterical giggle, because really, what wasn’t wrong at this point? But she could hardly tell Fleur that she’d had a breakdown because apparently trying to stop Voldemort made her feel like she was betraying her heart and soul.
How much could she say? “I.. I think it’s only just hitting me.. that I’m bound to her,” she managed. She did have one question Fleur might help with, “Why me? Why did she choose me?”
Fleur held her for a minute, she seemed to be hesitating, until Hermione directed a frown her way. Fleur cleared her throat, “I think she must have seen something in you that reminded her of herself.”
She gasped, “We are nothing alike!”, she exclaimed. Fleur shushed her, “In some ways you are.. the Order has had briefings on You-Know-Who’s inner circle, and Bellatrix.. she had perfect grades when she went to Hogwarts, did you know?.. She has even been called the Brightest Witch, just like you. I am sure she has been following your progress throughout the years, she probably has a copy of your school records.”
The room was silent when Fleur finished, but Hermione’s mind was working a mile a minute. She had never thought of Bellatrix when she was young.. to her, she had always been the powerful intense woman she was now. Yes, she could see similarities when she thought about it. Bellatrix was a pureblood, but still a woman, she probably had to work twice as hard to prove herself. She suddenly burned with a desire to learn more about her.. Bonded? She decided she needed more information, so she smiled weakly to Fleur and curled up on the bed.
“Thank you, Fleur.. I think I will try to get some sleep.”
Tonight, she would sneak out and research.