Her Rose

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Barely two weeks after the Dark Lord's victory, a decisive blow was dealt to the resistance: Remus Lupin was captured. The werewolf had taken over as leader after Harry Potter had been killed, and by a slight of overconfidence, had gone out with his girlfriend Nymphadora Tonks on a stroll around Lyon where he was captured. The Dark Lord had guessed their new headquarters would be there. After all, Bill Weasley had a house in Lyon, and seeing as in London they had used Sirius Black's house as a base, Voldemort had stationed a handful of spies in the southern French city. Bellatrix's train of thought was interrupted when the doors of the ballroom were opened, and a beaten and sullied Lupin was dragged in by two masked guards. Instantly, the sea of Death Eaters that filled the ballroom began jeering at the resistance leader. The ones that were closer to him, kicking or spitting. Bellatrix turned her head a millimeter to her right so as to observe her lord, expression on his face was lacking; he seemed to be staring at a point on the back of the ballroom past his sea of followers. Suddenly, his eyes blinked rapidly, and he turned his head to the right where his wife stood. Bellatrix noticed Hermione's hand find his as she whispered something to him, Bellatrix strained her ears to hear his response, but the jeers and catcalls of the troops made it impossible. Suddenly, she felt Rodolphus' hand giving hers a squeeze and pulling her towards him. Bellatrix turned to him looking vexed.
"Stop leaning over like that," Rodolphus hissed.
"I wasn't leaning over," Bellatrix replied.
"Yes you were, you just didn't notice," Rodolphus said hurriedly as Voldemort started going down the carpeted stairs until he reached Lupin who was made to kneel at the base of the stairs. Bellatrix heard the rustle of fabric and turned to look at Hermione who was slowly lowering herself in her throne, hand on her side. As she neared the end of her pregnancy, it seemed the woman couldn't be on her feet more than five minutes. Bellatrix looked back at her lord, a hint of a smirk on her face. Thank Merlin she had never had to deal with that. Bellatrix let out a sigh as she heard her lord's waltzing voice, she loved hearing him give speeches or simply talk at length. His voice was charismatic, compelling, commanding, and seductive. Like Orpheus with his lyre, Lord Voldemort and his voice could charm animals and humans alike. Currently, her lord was mocking the werewolf; Bellatrix smirked as he made a particularly vicious comment, he had exceptionally sharp thorns, her rose. Bellatrix turned to look at the mudblood's reaction, but was disappointed to see that her husband's actions hadn't illicited any changes in her eerily calm countenance. Bellatrix turned back to the action in front of her.
“I wonder how Harry, Dumbledore, Sirius, and James feel about your failure,“ Voldemort was saying, hands clasped behind his back as he strolled in circles around Lupin who was sitting slumped on the ground.
“You were their last hope, the last maurader and what did you do? Turn a blind eye on the war, for which so many of your loved ones gave their lives, and go out cavorting with your girlfriend.” He tutted and came to a stop in front of Remus. “Very selfish of you, wouldn’t you agree? But then again, werewolves are one of the most selfish,” he stopped and bent over, “vile, and odious creatures who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as a wizard, wouldn’t you agree?”
At this point Lupin looked up, a glimmer of fire in his tired eyes. “I do, but at the same time I think hypocrites are less deserving of that honor because at least us, vile creatures, accept who we are unlike hypocrites who revile themselves so much, they pretend to be someone they’re not.”
“Indeed, you after all tried to play wizard and head up the resistance and look where that got you,” Voldemort said nastily. Remus looked up and with the little strength that was left in him, said loudly, “well at least I’m not a half-blood pretending to be a pu –”
Before he could utter his dreaded last word, a jet of green light from Voldemort’s wand silenced him. Bellatrix turned as she heard a quiet gasp coming from the mudblood; her previously nonchalant countenance now tinged with turmoil. Bellatrix didn’t know what to make of it, did she gasp because of Lupin’s death or because of the slight done to her husband? Bellatrix tossed her black hair behind her shoulder, nostrils flaring slightly. How dare that wretched creature bring up that rumor as if it were true! She could see she wasn’t the only one angered by this abject attempt at sullying their great lord’s image. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Bellatrix saw Hermione’s blue form rise from her chair aided by her personal healer. She left the ballroom through her and the lord’s private entrance behind the thrones. Bellatrix turned to look at her lord, but he didn’t seem to be aware (or hopefully he didn’t care) of his wife’s departure. He was too busy addressing his Death Eaters.
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“My lady, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
Hermione nodded as she reposed on the bed. “Yes, Dora, don’t worry. I just need rest. I will ask you to open the windows though, it’s such a beautiful day.”
The healer went towards the floor-length windows that led out to a large balcony and opened them. Instantly, a warm summer breeze filled the room. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. “You may leave, Dora, I will summon you if I require anything.”
The portly blonde bowed slightly and exited the room. Hermione opened her eyes when she heard the door snap shut; she brought her hand to her face and began rubbing her eye forcefully as if trying to erase an image from her mind. Why had he done it? She had told him not to kill him in front of her, and he had agreed just moments before. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing, the effects of the calming draught she had taken had worn off the moment her old teacher was killed in front of her. Hermione almost wanted to scold herself, how could she have assumed that his instincts wouldn’t kick in because of her request? After all, if one has a snake for a pet, one oughtn’t be surprised when bitten. Still, Hermione countered, if he was always led by his instincts and emotions, then how would he react to their child when he misbehaved? Would he torture first and reprimand later? Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, why was her life so difficult? Why did he have to come into her life two years ago, and why did she have to fall in love with him?
“Are you feeling better? I hadn’t noticed you’d left.”
“I felt sick,” Hermione replied somewhat coldly; her eyes following the patterns on the Victorian canopy over their four-poster bed. She heard him coming towards her, and then the bed dipped when he sat down next to her.
“He left me no choice, I had to kill him.”
“You could’ve stunned him and killed him later when I wasn’t in sight!” Hermione snapped and rolled over onto her side so that her back was towards him.
“There was no further need for him, stunning would’ve made no sense, and –”
“Well then if you knew you were going to kill him, why did you make me go?!” Hermione yelled turning back to face him.
“Because it is your duty as my wife to attend all official events,” he replied loudly.
“Well, I’m seven months pregnant and I would think that would excuse me from attending all official events that involve carnage!”
“How hypocritical of you, wife, you don’t have a problem with your old friend getting killed so long as you don’t see it, but –”
“I do have a problem with it!” Hermione hollered, hoisting herself up on her arms. “But what can I do when him living endangers your own chance at survival!” Hermione finished, her breathing fast and shallow. Suddenly, her face contorted, and she sniffed as she turned away from him and began crying silently. She heard him shift and stretch his body so that his chest was on her back; one long-fingered hand went over her and encased both her small hands giving them a squeeze.
“Hermione,” he muttered, kissing the side of her head next to a tear-filled eye. She shook her head and pulled her hands out of his while scooting away from him. He groaned in exasperation and got off the bed. “I am going to be so glad when this pregnancy’s over.”
“Me being pregnant has nothing to do with it!” Hermione shrieked, her eyes widened in anger.
“What is ‘it’, Hermione?!” he yelled. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I love you!” Hermione hollered while sitting up with difficulty. “The problem is that I don’t know why I love you or even what type of love we have!” Hermione let out a small, high-pitched laugh. “I mean, what do you call a love that’s never mentioned? What do you call a love that doesn’t inspire passion or lust? And it’s all your fault!” Hermione yelled. “ You’re the one that manipulated me into falling in love with you when I was captured. You could’ve killed me or left me in a cell to die like you did all the others, but instead you waited until I was broken and suicidal to turn me to your favor!”
“I gave you a choice, and this is what you chose,” Voldemort replied simply.
Hermione stared at him like he had just grown another head; even her tears had stopped falling. “You can’t be serious. Join me or die is hardly a choice!”
“There are two different outcomes presented and you get to decide between one or the other; last time I checked that constitutes a choice. It’s not my fault if your idea of choice differs from mine.”
Hermione let out a nervous laugh, half mocking, half pitiful. “You don’t even care for me, you only seduced me to hurt Harry, and once he was dead, you were probably going to kill me,” her voice got louder and shriller with every word, “but then I got pregnant, and now you are probably just waiting until I have your kid so you can throw me aside like you have done everything and everyone when they lost their usefulness!”
“You are an ungrateful wench!” Tom yelled. “I have done everything for you that I have never done for anyone. I buy you everything you want, I gave you my title and position, I’ve never hurt you and you dare tell me I only care for myself? Don’t kid yourself, wife, if I had wanted you dead I would’ve killed you with child or without.”
No sooner had he finished, Hermione let out a shriek and with a swipe of her hand, caused a lamp on their bedside table to zoom towards him at breakneck speed. Voldemort jumped aside just as the lamp whizzed past his head and crashed against the double doors. Next came books and shoes which an infuriated Hermione aimed at her husband’s head and crotch. Voldemort, who had taken a few steps towards her, now put up a shield and backed out of the room. He made sure to slam the door hard so that it almost fell off its hinges. Hermione threw a pillow at the door with one last shriek and then collapsed into a sobbing ball.
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To say that Bellatrix was excited when she received her lord’s summon was putting it mildly. She was sure it wasn’t for business as her husband hadn’t been asked to come along, and that only left one delicious possibility. Bellatrix rushed to her vanity to make sure her hair looked presentable, she also quickly touched up her make-up. She didn’t want to keep her lord waiting, but she also wanted to look appealing. As soon as Bellatrix apparated into the maze where her lord had summoned her, she was greeted by a long bout of the Cruciatus which Bellatrix was sure had completely messed up her hair. She tried to run her hand through it as she stood up.
“You made me wait 53 seconds,” he hissed. Her rose was leaning against a yew tree, arms crossed over his chest. “I counted.”
“I wanted to look presentable for you, my lord, to look anything but would show a lack of respect for your greatness.” Voldemort sniffed, his lips tugging up into a lopsided smile. He pushed himself off the tree with his foot and came towards her. Bellatrix watched him with bated breath as he accosted her; he stopped suddenly and Bellatrix cursed inwardly at being deprived of the closeness she seeked. Voldemort smiled again, his usual tight-lipped smile. She had never seen him truly smile, a shame, Bellatrix thought, because he had such nice teeth.
“Your emotions will cause your downfall, Bellatrix, you must control them for one must never be led by the passions,” he said quietly as his eyes landed on her exposed cleavage. Bellatrix had never learned to be demure and low-key like other pureblood women. Flamboyant, shocking and passionate, Bellatrix was a blood red rose surrounded by daises.
“Strip,” he told her and sat down on the carved stone bench next to the yew tree. Bellatrix brought her hands to her chest and slowly started unbuttoning her dress; before long, the navy garment pooled around her feet.
“Come,” he said. Bellatrix tried to hide her smile as she walked towards him.
“Kneel.”
Bellatrix sank to her knees in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. Voldemort spread his legs suggestively, and Bellatrix didn’t need anymore telling. She conjured off his pants and enveloped his half erect member with her mouth. If there was one specialty Bellatrix claimed when it came to sex, giving head was it.
“Suck more,” he moaned.
Bellatrix did so, suctioning him as much as she could. He groaned and pushed her head towards his crotch making her take him in fully. Bellatrix contained a gag and focused on pleasing him, a salty taste on her tongue. Bellatrix sucked with more urgency as his moans increased along with his hold on her hair. Moments later, he came; Bellatrix swallowed in one gulp and took her mouth of his softening member just as he pulled her onto his lap and captured her lips. She took his shirt off as they kissed; Bellatrix moaned at his mouth’s expertise while his hands massaged her breasts. She longed for him to touch her in the most intimate region, but didn’t dare ask. Instead, she spread her legs slowly to invite him in. However, his hands never ventured south. Instead, he made her lay face down on the bench. He got on top of her, and she felt his fingers prodding her between the butt cheeks. She heard him mutter something, and cool wet lubricant entered her channel. He pushed into her eagerly, and Bellatrix had to bite back a painful moan. However, with her help, he was soon deeply imbedded in her. A moan escaped him as he started moving forcefully. Bellatrix too was aroused when he started hitting a particularly sweet spot deep inside her. She moaned loudly and spread her legs more, hoping to entice him to touch her there. She cried out in joy when his hand found her wet arousal and started stimulating her. Bellatrix gasped as he increased the force of his thrusts, she arched her pelvis off the bench and started thrusting towards him. Immediately, she regretted this for his hands went from her arousal to her hips which he held in place as his thrusts deepened, and Bellatrix writhed in agony at the lack of stimulation. She could feel that he was close to coming, but what about her? She was ready to hump a fence! Just as was her conjecture, he came with a stifled cry, and pulled out of her. Bellatrix slowly sat up, shaking from arousal. She watched him conjure his discarded robes onto his person and throw her dress at her like he’d done last time.
“You can disapparate straight from here, the wards are down for another ten minutes.” Then he left, Bellatrix felt angry tears well up in her eyes. She brushed them away before allowing her hand to travel down between her legs.
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Hermione woke up to find the light in the room was on; she sat up and looked at their walking closet from where she could hear her husband changing. Hermione bit her lip and began playing with a hangnail on her wedding ring finger, she felt bad about what she’d said to him previously. With a sigh, Hermione laid back down onto the pillows, she was simply too heavy for her arms to bear. Closing her eyes, she decided to pretend to be asleep until he came to bed. She heard him go to the bathroom and brush his teeth after which he entered their bedroom, got into bed and turned off the lights. Just then, Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at him, his eyes were closed. She brought her hand to his cheek, instantly his eyes opened and fixed themselves on her.
“I woke you up,” he whispered.
Hermione smiled. “It’s fine,” she said quietly, her thumb stroking his beautiful high cheekbones. “The lights are what woke me up, not you.” He stared at her, his gaze relaxed and appreciative of her touch. Hermione smiled, she loved being alone with her husband because with her, he was a completely different person.
“I’m so sorry about what I said, I was just emotional over Lupin’s death.”
“It’s fine.” He smiled. “We’ll just blame it on the hormones.”
Hermione laughed, quietly at first and then a bit louder. He grinned and brought his head down over hers. Hermione wrapped her arms around him as her hands weaved themselves in his hair, and their kiss deepened causing her heart to brim with love for him.