As soon as her feet touched the stone floor of the fireplace, Hermione slid out of her lover’s arms. The overwhelming news from the Dark Lord hit her hard. She couldn’t emotionally deal with the closeness of anyone, even Bella. She was angrier than she’d ever remembered being in the past. Without thinking she stormed towards the gardens, leaving the dark witch trailing behind. Seeing Narcissa and Draco practicing combat spells, she drew her wand. She needed to feel the rush of blasting off spells. She needed not to think, but just to feel. The two blonde heads snapped in her direction upon hearing the doors bang open. Doing her very best imitation of her lover she growled,
“May I cut in, Cissy?”
Narcissa paused, wondering when she and the girl had gotten familiar on the level of her sister’s pet name, but nodded slightly and stepped aside. Noting the odd behavior, she started to remind the teenagers of the rules of conduct, but she was cut off by Hermione rapidly firing spells at Draco. He managed to deflect them, if just barely. Hoping to catch the fuming witch off guard, he returned with several of the new spells he’d spent the morning learning under his mother’s tutelage. Hermione blocked them as though she’d seen them thousands of times before. Stunned at the failure of his new spells, he let his focus slip for only a moment. Seeing his distraction, Hermione hit him with a strong stupefy, flying him backwards into the hedge. Instead of immediately releasing the spell, she held him a meter above the ground and she stalked towards him.
Narcissa recognized the darkness in the girl’s movements and threw a spell at her feet in an attempt to draw her attention away from Draco. He was a sweet and smart boy, but he was no match for the raw talent of the witch, particularly not when fueled by rage. As the girl rounded, she released her hold on the boy, allowing him to drop unceremoniously to the ground. He prepared to re-enter the fray, but backed away at his mother’s warning look.
Narcissa’s wand hand shook slightly, but she hoped it didn’t show. She had seen this type of magical aggression on a few occasions in her sister’s worst moments. Those days were different and Narcissa had been a fearless teen back then. Bellatrix, even in those dark moments, loved her baby sister above all others. Steeling her nerves, she gripped her wand tighter than before and raised her chin, putting up her haughty mask to hide her nerves. She held her stance, allowing the girl to make the first move, hoping to force her outside of her comfort zone. After blocking two reductos, Narcissa’s fears were confirmed. In the present moment she was out powered and she saw nothing of the sweet young woman who had found her way into her heart. Hermione was blasting her back towards the house with the obvious intent to pin her there. Suddenly Hermione was blown sideways by a powerful spell, her hold and momentum toward Narcissa halted.
“Your anger isn’t with them, Love. If you want to fight, you fight me.”
Hermione spun at the sound of Bellatrix’s voice. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she growled.
“Oh, I see. Afraid you can’t match up to the big bad Death Eater? It’s easy to take on those you know you can beat. But me, Love, you can’t even hope to best me,” the dark witch taunted.
Hermione threw a flipendo jinx trying to throw her lover backwards. Bella’s protego bounced it directly back at her. The young witch flew back several meters from the power of her own spell. The dark witch threw a petrificus totalus binding the girl’s limbs. She glided over to the girl and straddled her hips.
“There are better ways to resolve our differences, little one,” Bellatrix purred in her ear, gripping her tightly and apparating them away. Dropping the girl unceremoniously on the bed, she moved both of their wands to the other side of the room before unbinding her. Hermione jumped up and pushed her witch roughly against the wall.
“How long did you know, Bellatrix? Tell me,” Hermione growled.
“Not significantly longer than you.”
“I don’t believe you. How long?” she ground out while pushing her body flush against her lover, holding the older witch’s hands against the wall behind her.
“We suspected since the day you ran into Cissy in Hogsmeade, but we had no proof... until after the blood test.”
“How did you get to the Ministry’s records so quickly?” Hermione said, slipping her leg with purpose between her lover’s legs and grinding sensuously against her core.
“We didn’t. We did our own before,” the dark witch challenged. “Who do you think put the idea in the Ministry’s head? We had to know. I couldn’t take the risk of a normal courtship. If I developed feelings for you and we were wrong, my world would crumble. I wouldn’t survive another stint in Azkaban.”
“You played with my life, Bella. Everything I’ve ever thought was true was a lie.”
“I didn’t do that, Love. I didn’t take you away from people who would have raised you as a MacCarthy. And I didn’t change your birth date. If I had known, you would have been raised by my sister until I could return. I would never have abandoned you,” she replied fiercely.
Hermione responded by kissing her with such ferocity that it stole the air from both of their lungs. A part of her knew the older witch’s intent was not to hurt her, but it did little to abate her anger. Bellatrix moved her head to bring her mouth gently against the girl’s ear to say huskily,
“There are other ways to feel better than fighting. Take what you need.”
The girl said nothing, choosing to respond instead with her body as she roughly kissed her lover, nipping at her bottom lip just enough to draw blood. Wandlessly she bound her lover against the wall, freeing her hands to roam the delightful body at her disposal. She began to unlace the bodice of the woman’s dress and, after a few moments of fumbling, she ripped the laces away cleanly. She drew her nails down the beautiful torso. Bellatrix moaned at the sensation, arching her back towards her lover.
“You can do better than that, can’t you? You’re angry. Take. What. You. Need,” the older witch barked.
Hermione growled. She tugged the flowing black dress away from her lover’s body, moaning at the dark witch’s propensity not to wear knickers. Without preamble she drove three fingers, hard, into the waiting depths. Bellatrix threw back her head in ecstasy, begging the girl to take her. The young witch obliged the pleas, setting a punishing pace by driving into the witch as hard as she could. She added her thumb, roughly grinding circles into the hard clit. Before Hermione’s muscles began to burn, her older lover shouted her name and every muscle in her body clenched. She released the magical bonds holding the panting woman’s body to the wall, reaching out her arms to catch her.
Instead she was thrown roughly back without magic and her clothes divested. Bella was on her before she had the chance to process the change in position.
“Did you like it, little witch? Did you like controlling me?”
“Yes,” she ground out.
“Do you want me to submit to you all of the time,” she asked teasingly, tilting her head to the side. Hermione turned her head, avoiding eye contact. Bellatrix took the girl’s chin in her hand, forcing her to look her in the eye.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me or I do nothing. I will leave you wanting.”
“No. That isn’t what I want.”
“Then what do you want?” Bellatrix paused, patiently waiting for the girl to find her voice.
“I want you, Bella. All of you. Anything you want.”
“Mmm, well done, pet. Then tell me, little one, to whom do you belong?,” she said, tracing her finger down a bare sternum, never touching where it was most desired. The girl struggled to resist the warm delicious woman taunting her. The dark witch responded by twisting her fingers through the soft warm locks, pulling her head sharply back.
“You. Just you. Oh, please, please.”
“Let go for me,” she purred as she began to dismantle the girl’s defenses to strip her bare.
Several rounds of sweaty, passionate, soul penetrating sex later, the two spent witches laid intertwined.
“Bella, we are going to have to get cleaned up and go down to dinner. I owe two of my three favorite blondes an apology.”
“I hope you are prepared for a bit of groveling. Draco will forgive you easily enough, but my sister... she won’t be so compliant.”
“Well if you haven’t noticed, I have quite a way with the Black women,” Hermione said, chuckling and rolling off the bed to get ready. She quickly bathed and dressed, hoping to catch the youngest Black sister before the family gathered for the meal.
Searching through the rooms on the lowest floor the manor, she found the blonde staring listlessly out a window. She approached slowly, but not silently, not wanting to frighten her. Praying she wouldn’t be rejected, she pressed her body gently against the witch’s back and rested her chin on the green clad shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered tentatively, placing her hands lightly on the woman’s hips. Narcissa took her hands, winding them around her until they were pressed against her flat stomach, preventing the young woman from retreating.
“Sometimes you remind me so much of Bella when she was a teenager. Willful, unaware of how powerful you are.”
“I was so out of control. I could have hurt you. I would have never forgiven myself,” she said, attempting to hold back a sob at the idea.
The blonde turned in her arms without pulling away to take her face gently between her hands. “I am unharmed. There is no reason for tears.” Hermione sighed at the comforting closeness. She hoped for forgiveness, but hadn’t expected it to be so freely given. Feeling the girl relaxing in her arms, Narcissa leaned closer, brushing her lips against the smooth cheek to whisper in her ear,
“I trust my sister informed you of alternative coping methods.”
Hermione blushed fiercely, but whispered affirmatively.
“Good. Then all is forgiven. I trust you will approach me more... appropriately the next time,” she responded, dipping her voice seductively. “Come, it’s time for dinner.”
Stunned, Hermione followed behind the blonde to sit down with the family that claimed her. She hoped that in sharing what they learned that she might find some clarity about what to do.