Title: lace and scars
Author: tryslora
Characters/Pairings: Lavender/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: lacing
Other Warnings: scars, D/s, orgasm delay, anal plug, anal fingering, cunnlingus
Word Count: 2,246
Summary/Description: No one can wear lace like Lavender can.
Author's Notes: Oh my goodness, I went to search for pictures of corset lacing, and I was instantly enchanted (hello there, new kink I never thought of before). I couldn’t resist the opportunity to write this kink with my post-attack tough-as-nails Lavender. Sadly, fitting their final outfits into the story didn’t work out. In my mind, Lavender’s wearing a backless dress with a short skirt and long sleeves. Chic, semi-formal, and shows off every bit of lace and muscle. Hermione is in a Muggle suit with heels, her hair pulled back and tamed. At least until they manage to undress each other again.


Lavender isn’t often thankful for Greyback’s attack, but she has her moments. She’s not a werewolf, not exactly. She has scars—including a vicious one stretching from just above her eyeball down the side of her face—etched into her body from the event. She craves raw meat around the full moon. She’s a little faster sometimes, has a temper that’s quick to ignite. She’s stronger than the average girl.

And she heals quickly without magic.

Her wounds don’t close as soon as she gets them, but they heal more quickly than normally, the skin turning pink and knitting together overnight, scar tissue forming before two days have passed.

She never thought it would be an advantage, the way scars twist and turn over her body. There are pale pathways from small scratches, and thick ropes from more grave injuries. But it’s an advantage as an Auror—she has a better field success rate than those who need to Disapparate as soon as they’re injured. Lavender fights through, broken and bleeding, and lets herself heal once the enemy has been taken down.

There are other advantages as well.

Like the tiny rings that dot her body in a pattern that seems to make no sense on first viewing. They zig-zag in and out along the line of her spine, narrow at the nape of her neck and wide across her shoulders, narrowing again until they widen over the top of her hips. There are matching sets in an hourglass on the backs of her thighs. The ones on her face are made of crystal, the rings shining where they are set around her scar, outlining it with a shimmer that calls attention to the stark remains of her injury.

Most days they are just rings. Some days they become more.

Lavender lies on her stomach on the bed, wearing only a pair of frilly black knickers that stretch tightly across her bum. Hermione is perched on the curve of her hip, straddling Lavender as she leans forward, three lengths of lace in her fingers. Hermione lets the tips trail across Lavender’s back, and Lavender shivers at the soft, tickling sensation.

“I think you like this,” Hermione murmurs, wriggling a little until Lavender reaches back and clamps her fingers over Hermione’s thigh, digging in slightly until she goes still.

“It’s pretty,” Lavender says as she lets Hermione go. She crosses her arms, pillows her head and tugs her hair out of Hermione’s way. “It’s a fashion statement, and there is no one else who can do it the way I do. And I like the way the pain reminds me that I’m alive.”

“And you like the way knowing that you being in pain reminds everyone else that you’re strong.” Hermione’s fingers drift down the line of rings, gently tugging, and Lavender feels an answering rush of warmth between her legs.

“That too,” Lavender admits. “Lace me up, love.”

She can’t see what Hermione does, but she can feel the gentle but insistent pull as Hermione threads the lace through each ring in a painstakingly careful pattern. She knows what it will look like when it’s done—it’s not the first time they’ve done this, although it’s the first time they’ll be taking their art out in public to show off. The tugs closer to her spine burn slightly, where there will be green and blue intricately interwoven along the line of her spine in thick ribbon. When the tugs come to the smaller rings on her shoulders, shoulder blades, and ribs, she knows the bright silver outer pattern is being set.

The rings that are used for both colors—pulled in two directions at the same time—hurt the most. Lavender bows her back, arching up into Hermione’s touch while she works. It takes time to make it right, delicate work so she doesn’t pull the design out of its careful order, and so she doesn’t pull any ring too tight.

Hermione pats Lavender’s bum, hooks one finger under the lace edge of her knickers and slides all the way back until her finger parts her slick lips. “You love this.”

Lavender laughs, low and dark. “And you’re going to get me off before we leave here,” she warns. “Aren’t you.” It’s not a question, and she feels the shiver, the small quiver of Hermione’s finger over her skin before Hermione murmurs her assent. “That’s my girl,” Lavender approves.

Hermione slides down Lavender’s legs, her skin catching on the rings set into her thighs, yanking slightly before Hermione moves on, settles against Lavender’s calves. Lavender feels a dampness pressing against her skin, smells arousal on the air. “Is doing this turning you on?” she asks.

“Having a plug in my arse is turning me on,” Hermione retorts, ending on a small laugh as she gently plucks at one ring. “And yes, watching you squirm is turning me on. I don’t get to do this very often.”

This is the only situation in which Lavender allows Hermione to take control in their lives, and even in this, Lavender is the one who holds the reins in the end. “Do this part quickly,” Lavender orders. “The last will be most difficult, and I want time for you to take care of me properly. If you do well, you might get a treat.”

Hermione’s whine vibrates through her body, and there’s a quick sharp tug on the two rings at the top of Lavender’s left thigh. She feels deft fingers interweaving ribbon, making it perfectly taut in a simple pattern of mixed blue and green on the back of each thigh. When she ties it off, the ends of the lace tickle Lavender’s skin.

Lavender waits for Hermione to climb off of her before she rolls over, feeling every muscle’s stretch and pull across her back. She moves deliberately, testing the amount of flex that she has before the pull becomes too much, threatening to tug a ring from its tiny sheathe of scarred skin. She stands and pads barefoot to the side of the room where a mirror stands, turning just enough so she can look back over her shoulder and see Hermione’s handiwork.

It’s perfect, of course.

“Beautiful, love. We’ve just got one more left to do.” Lavender perches carefully on the edge of the bed, making sure to lean her bum against it, but not catch the thigh lacings on the covers. She pats her knee, and Hermione straddles it, facing her. Hermione tries not to press down, but Lavender can already smell her arousal, see the darker blue spot where she’s soaked her knickers.

Lavender reaches up to cup one of Hermione’s breasts in her palm, thumb flicking over the nipple where an empty ring hangs. “I think I might need to add some weight to these tonight before we go out,” she says quietly.

Hermione blinks, brown eyes wide and more pupil than colour. “If you wish,” she says, and Lavender can taste the want in her words.

“I want you to be desperate by the end of this function,” Lavender murmurs. She bends forward, feels the pull of the laces across her back as she captures Hermione’s nipple in her teeth and tugs on the ring. She flicks her tongue across it, hears the whine in response and feels as Hermione grinds down against her thigh. “Don’t come,” she orders, and Hermione stops moving immediately.

Lavender gently suckles at her nipple, teases it turgid then moves to the other one. She summons two small gems from her jewelry cabinet and affixes them to each of the rings, adds a spell to weight them before she lets go and sees how they tug at Hermione’s nipples. “Beautiful.”

“I should do the last lacing,” Hermione says, and Lavender has to laugh at the way she squirms so carefully against Lavender’s thigh, trying to be subtle and scratch the pleasurable itch.

“You should,” Lavender agrees. She waits while Hermione collects the final set of laces, gossamer thin and shining, in shades of silver, green, and blue. As Hermione slides the first lace through one of the crystal rings on Lavender’s face, Lavender slides her hands down Hermione’s back, hooks a finger under her knickers. “While you’re doing that, I’ll just make sure that you’re ready for tonight as well.”

There’s a soft hitch in Hermione’s breath, an unwitting tug on the ring. “Of course.”

Lavender pushes her finger down between the soft globes of Hermione’s bottom, sliding through the slick lubricant that eases her way. There’s a slender plug, held in place by the wide bottom and magic both, keeping it from sliding out, but also keeping it from moving too much. It’s not too wide, but enough to keep Hermione’s bum slick and open and aching all night. Lavender wiggles it, just a bit, and Hermione stops, eyes closed as she grips the lace tightly.

“Please,” Hermione whispers, and Lavender grins.

“Please what?”

“Please. I want to come.” Hermione’s cheeks are bright red, the skin across her chest flushed, her nipples a deep burnished rose. Her chest rises and falls as she ducks her head, and Lavender feels fresh warmth against her thigh.

It would be so easy to get her off like this. Hermione is so sensitive and so ready.

“Not yet,” Lavender murmurs. “Finish the lace.” She presses against the already filled hole, pushes just the tip of her finger in alongside the plug. “Now, love.”

The tugs against the rings that outline her scar are sharper now, quicker as Hermione weaves the laces, creating a light and airy web of color down the side of Lavender’s face. Lavender twists her finger, and Hermione gasps, moving more quickly yet as she ties off the lace at the bottom of the scar, creating a tiny bow on the edge of Lavender’s jaw.

“It’s done,” Hermione says, mouth slightly open in an O as she rocks back against Lavender’s finger.

Lavender slides her finger carefully out, wipes it clean against the sheets. “I’m not,” she points out. “My knickers are soaked. Help me change them.”

Hermione bites her lip and stands, slowly sinks into the space between Lavender’s spread knees. She slides the knickers down, the soft fabric catching as it slides over the piercings and lace in the back. Hermione lets her fingers linger over the piercings, drawing out the sensation before the knickers are removed and tossed aside. By the time she leans in, Lavender is shaking with need.

Lavender twines her fingers in Hermione’s thick hair, moans when Hermione grips her thighs, digs her fingers into the places around the rings and holds on. Lavender pulls her head forward, lifts her hips up to meet Hermione’s tongue. She’s already wet and swollen; it won’t take much. Hermione flicks her tongue against Lavender’s clit, slides down and thrusts it inside of her. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and Lavender growls softly, pulling on Hermione’s hair to try to get more.

Hermione circles Lavender’s clit with her tongue, catches it with her teeth oh-so-lightly, then manages to suck it into her mouth and Lavender’s coming, just like that, crying out as she thrusts towards Hermione’s mouth.

Her back aches as she comes down, and she feels the pull of every single little ring.

Hermione sits back on her heels, hands clasped in front of herself as she looks up at Lavender and doesn’t say a word.

“Take off your knickers.”

Hermione stands up and wriggles out of them, kicking them away. Lavender brings her closer, wiggles the plug slightly and stands up to catch Hermione as her knees buckle. Lavender cradles her close as she works one hand between them, rolls Hermione’s clit roughly and holds her while she shudders through a swift orgasm. It won’t be enough to bring her down, not as aroused as she is, but it’ll take the edge off. They’ll have plenty of time for Lavender to take her apart in leisure later.

Lavender noses against Hermione’s throat, sucks a light mark there. “When we get home later, after you take my ribbons out, I am going to use them to tie you down,” she whispers. “Maybe I’ll use pins, weave them on your skin. Take pictures of how beautiful you are laced up like a perfect little corset. But first, we are going to the Ministry. You are going to put on fresh knickers, and a nice tight bra with a concealment spell so no one can see your weights.” She flicks one of Hermione’s nipple rings. “Then you are going to put on your suit and heels, and be my escort. And whenever I need service, you will take care of me.”

“Of course.” Hermione kisses her slowly, gently, a dreamlike quality to her motions. She’s slipped down into that place her mind goes, and Lavender knows that she’s finally relaxed enough for a Ministry event. She can enjoy it, talk to everyone, and interact without the anxiety that being in charge brings.

And when they return here, Lavender will reward her by letting her unlace Lavender’s piercings. “Oh my beautiful, baby girl,” Lavender murmurs, and Hermione sighs, relaxing into her. “Are you ready to go show off your handiwork?”

Because it’s going to be a perfect night, with Lavender’s lace on display in public, and Hermione on display for Lavender when they get home.

And Lavender just can’t wait.