lunalelle (lunalelle) wrote in hpdesmutathon, @ 2008-05-21 19:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | bellatrix, fic, hermione |
FIC: Turning Back Time (Hermione/Bellatrix) for tristesses
Title: Turning Back Time
Recipient: tristesses
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,607
Pairing(s): Hermione/Bellatrix, implied Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Gabrielle
Summary: Post DH. Hermione finds herself in a frightening predicament – but who could be holding her captive, and why? And if it's who she fears it might be - how could this be happening?
Warning(s): Explicit f/f sex, D/s, bondage, scratching, biting, mind games, dub-con, AU
A/N:: Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
Hermione tried to open her eyes, but found herself still in darkness. Something soft and silky was tied across her face, something tinged with a sensual and heady perfume. It was a scent of musk and roses, very beautiful but somehow sinister, a scent that Hermione would never wear, nor encourage any woman she cared for to put on. Hermione struggled to remember where she knew that smell from. Despite its loveliness, it was beginning to make her feel ever so slightly sick. It was cloying and overly heavy, like the profusion of flowers at costly funerals. Yes, it was funereal, as if poured over to mask the stench of a corpse. It was utterly evil, Hermione thought, even though she knew that such a notion was ridiculous.
She attempted to move her hands, but to her stomach-plummeting fear she realised they were bound above her head. The ropes that tied her were not uncomfortably tight, but there was no way she could move away from the spot where she was pinioned. With a start, she felt the chill in the room and suddenly knew with a jolt of shame that she was also stark naked. Her nipples were erect, but only from the cold, she told herself. She shivered, and bit her lips to keep from uttering a sob or scream. I mustn't panic, she thought. I will not let myself panic! I will be released. There must be a rational explanation for this!
Her heart was hammering. Who could have captured her like this? The Death Eaters were long defeated and Lord Voldemort long dead. She and Ron had never involved themselves in any bondage games in the past, and despite now being on cordial terms after their divorce, their erotic times together had long since ceased. And her relationship with Gabrielle Delacour had not even reached the stage of more than kisses and the occasional fully clothed caress. For all she knew, dear Gabi was probably just as vanilla in her sexual tastes as Ron.
Not knowing what was really happening was terrifying her- this not being able to tell if it was only a lover's kinky games or something truly dangerous was making her mouth dry, and her skin was crawling with a vaguely creeping fear that made her tremble and begin to breathe harshly.
Was this even real? Was it merely a dream, a memory or a hallucination? If she was in peril, were her children and other loved ones safe? The slight fear began to build up into full-blown terror, but she forced herself to keep calm. She had to keep her sanity for the sake of those very ones she loved so much.
"Who's there – who are you? Why am I here?" she heard herself demand hoarsely. At least she was not gagged – thank goodness for small mercies...
She heard the rustle of fabric from a distant corner of the room, and a slow, dark chuckle. The voice was definitely female, and not Gabrielle's. Gabi had a lovely, light and lilting sound to her voice when she laughed. Pure and innocent, like a loving, trusting child, or like the angel she was named for. This woman sounded frightening, almost insane. Something wicked and rapacious lurked in her tone – there was something familiar about that sound...
Hermione gasped. She definitely knew that voice, and it was not the voice of any beloved one. Far from it, in fact. A dreadful image began to form in her mind's eye. An image of a dark-haired woman with a demented gaze, once beautiful perhaps, but ravaged by suffering and madness, consumed with her vicious need to cause pain and to please her Lord.
This was no game, then. No lover's elaborately constructed fantasy of capture and sensual teasing, no carefully planned illusion to produce a pleasurable kind of fear. This was all too grimly real. It was a trick, then? A cruel joke of some kind…
It had to be, Hermione thought desperately, because the alternative was unthinkable. It could not be her, Hermione told herself, trying not to shake too much with her mounting dread. That bloody madwoman was dead, long dead. Molly Weasley had killed her, the dead could not be brought back to life and a ghost could never do this to her...
There was no way it could be Bellatrix Lestrange.
If only she could see and be sure of who had her bound and helpless! If only her mind was playing tricks on her because her sense of sight was impeded. But this was no mere fancy, her instincts told her.
"Glad to hear you've found your voice then, pretty thing," her captor whispered harshly, drawing closer. "And that you know who's got you. My, my, but you are a clever one indeed... but they always said you were, little Mudblood with your everlasting books!"
With a sinking heart, Hermione realised that she'd spoken the she-fiend's name aloud.
That overpowering, sickening floral scent seemed all over her, and Hermione knew that Bellatrix was standing very close. She gasped once more as she felt a cold hand on her arm, and then a sharp nail tearing through the skin. Hermione screamed, and the hand was swiftly removed and struck her again and again across the face.
"Not a sound out of you, unless I command it!" Bellatrix snarled. "You're mine now, Mudblood bitch. Mine to do whatever I like with!" Hermione bit back another cry as her nostrils filled with the scent of her own blood. She forced herself to obey this demonic witch, uttering not even a whimper as Bellatrix's chilly fingers pinched one of her nipples, and then those razor-like nails were tearing the soft skin of Hermione's breasts.
"You bleed so prettily, my little whore," Bellatrix purred darkly. "I could almost lick you up, but I don't want the taste of mud in my mouth." Another slap across her face stunned Hermione and made tears come to her eyes.
"Just think, Mudblood slut – if I can come all this way across time to do this to you, then what his Lordship can accomplish with this power will be magnificent!" Bellatrix gloated, winding her hand in Hermione's hair and pulling it viciously as Hermione fought not to sob aloud with the pain. "Nobody can stop him – he is going to finally conquer the world with this new power of his. I am only his messenger, and what I do here tonight is only a foretaste of the future." Bellatrix's lips were cruelly on hers then, and Hermione again tried not to scream as she felt the skillful hands of her captor sliding over her naked flesh. Despite her repulsion for this evil woman, Bellatrix's caress was almost pleasurable, and there was no way that Hermione could fool herself that her hard nipples were caused by the chill in the air. One finger slipped towards Hermione's cunt, stroking the outer lips with a wicked, tantalizing slowness. Hermione again bit her lips, this time to hold back a moan.
The finger flickered over Hermione's clit, and then slid down and inside her. Soon it was joined by another, stretching her and filling her with a skill that was driving her to the edge of madness, making her burn with a desire she did not want to feel. Her mind was full of so many conflicting feelings – helplessness, rage, dread at what Lord Voldemort might be planning and what might at this very moment be happening to the ones she loved… and this lust, this horrifying lust that was beginning to consume her.
Bellatrix growled as she worked another finger into Hermione. "Oh yes, little plaything – you like this, even if you don't want to," the Death Eater snarled. "Mine, all mine – and I will have so many more playthings when the Dark Lord steals the future from the Mudbloods and all the Mudblood-loving scum! There'll be plenty more little toys for me when I've worn you out, my pretty little whore!" And sharp teeth abruptly closed upon Hermione's neck.
Hermione couldn't hold back a cry of fear and anguish then, struggling to resist the orgasm that swept through her, making her flush with shame even as she almost fainted with pleasure. The fingers inside her were roughly withdrawn, and she flinched as she anticipated the stinging slap that was sure to follow. If only she could see, Hermione thought desperately, if only she had some way of knowing what was truly going on!
But instead, Hermione heard an outraged scream of "No!" The noxious flowery stench of Bellatrix began to fade from her nostrils, and Hermione knew with a shock that Bellatrix, incredibly, was gone. She was alone in the room.
Her head felt suddenly dizzy, and a black swoon overcame her.
It was Gabrielle who found and freed Hermione. Her tenderness and outrage at what had happened to her lover was a source of comfort to Hermione. But Hermione did not have time to luxuriate in her darling's sweetness and sympathy. She had a plan to implement, an idea that was burgeoning into obsession.
Bellatrix had failed this time, but she could succeed the next. Hermione had no idea how the Death Eater had accomplished so much, but Hermione was not about to let her do it again. She was going to visit Minerva McGonagall as soon as she could – the Professor had helped her with a Time Turner many years ago, and she would surely help her the same way now.
Hermione was going to turn back time and stop Bellatrix Lestrange – and hopefully gain some pleasurable revenge…