Shiver

Shiver

“We were born women—useless for honest purposes, but in all kinds of evil skilled practitioners.”—Euripides, Medea

Bellatrix stood at the foot of her bed and watched her sleep.

In sleep, she looked almost peaceful, curly hair spread over the pillow and eyelashes gently caressing her cheeks. Bellatrix smiled in the dark of the room as she walked soundlessly over to the girl, Azkaban and years of being a Death Eater giving her an edge when it came to moving silently.

Among other things.

She reached out and caressed her hand down the girl’s cheek, watching in pleasure as Hermione flinched slightly and then moaned softly in her sleep. The most perfect pet we’ve had yet, Bellatrix thought, her caress strangely gentle. It was fitting that this clever girl, who so easily understood the dynamics of pain and pleasure would become the Dark Lord’s bride.

“You will prepare her for me, you and Rodolphus.” After they had taken Hermione in the bed before him, the Dark Lord had commanded her and Rodolphus to further Hermione’s education.. “Intellectually she is my equal, but she does not yet understand the beauty and the pleasure of pain. You will teach her. Do not fail me.” His Crucio had been both a warning and a reward as she had eagerly fallen to her knees before him with the pain washing over her.

She knows now what it is to be cleansed by pain. She understood this when Malfoy bowed to her, after she was whipped for his pleasure.

There was one final lesson to teach her, and Bellatrix had received their Lord’s instruction to conduct this lesson without Rodolphus present. Her husband had told her in a frenzied moan as they had fucked against the wall in their chambers how Hermione had confessed her desire to dominate Bellatrix, to be the one wielding the knife.

The Dark Lord could read all; the thoughts of those who swore him their service were never their own. Her Dark Mark was but the physical manifestation of the brand he’d placed on her, body and soul, and from her mind, he had gleaned this hidden desire of his would-be bride.

“Teach her how to wield this power, Bella.” He had stared at her with those intense burning eyes, and through her blood had rushed the intensity of her devotion to him as she had bowed her head in acquiescence.

Rodolphus had kissed her in their chambers, the room that was only theirs, and told her in a dark whisper that he wished to hear every detail when she returned, that he would take her fast and furious while she spoke of their pet and her triumphant domination of one Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Wake up, pet,” Bellatrix breathed, her body humming with her purpose and the swirl of desire to surrender, to see how well their pet had comprehended their lessons. “It’s time for you to show me what you have learned.”

Hermione’s eyes opened slowly in the darkness, and there was confusion written on her face. She looked first to her lover, standing naked in front of her with her hair her only adornment, and then to the long, silver blade in her hand, held out hilt first to Hermione.

Hermione stared for a moment in consideration. Bellatrix fancied she could see the conflicting emotions going through Hermione’s mind. Should she take the knife and plunge it into the heart of her forced teacher, use it on herself and escape that which awaited her, or embrace her destiny? She was not surprised when Hermione reached for the knife, sat up, and said in an even voice, “On the bed.”

Bellatrix lay down and stretched languorously, before she raised her arms until they were over her head. “Show me what you’ve learned, pet,” Bellatrix cooed.

Hermione smiled. Then, she backhanded her sharply across the mouth.

“I didn’t say you could talk,” Hermione said pleasantly.

Bellatrix tasted the sharp tang of her own blood in her mouth and tried not to smile.

“This is very interesting, this power I suddenly have,” Hermione said, cocking her head. It did not surprise Bellatrix that the younger girl was struggling to understand it, to comprehend what was happening. Like the Dark Lord, she could dissect a situation while it was occurring. Bellatrix had seen her master ponder the finer points of torture while cutting out a man’s eyes. Indeed, they shall be well matched.

“Power is an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?” Bellatrix said and hid her smile once again as Hermione’s hand cracked sharply on her mouth once more.

“Perhaps you did not understand, Bella,” she said, unconsciously referring to her with the nickname only Rodolphus and the Dark Lord used. “I do not wish for you to speak.”

Bellatrix nodded once and twisted slightly on the bed.

“Look at you,” Hermione murmured in amusement, as she stroked the knife delicately over her lower stomach. “You are so eager for the pain, Bella. Why is that, exactly? Is that the only way you feel the pleasure anymore?” She ran the knife over the woman’s skin with slightly more pressure, the blade making a slight scratching noise as it moved.

“You may answer me,” Hermione said, still running the knife up and down Bella’s torso. She climbed onto the bed beside the older woman, resting on her knees on the soft mattress .

“The pain is pleasure, Hermione. Just as you are learning, there will be no pleasure without pain, no pain without pleasure. It is what he wanted us to teach you,” Bellatrix said in a breathless voice.

At the word he, Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flush crept up her skin, and a breath hitched in her throat. “Oh,” she said softly, the hand holding the knife loosening slightly.

She trembles at the mere mention of his name, and it is not in fear. Bellatrix filed this information away to share with Rodolphus later, when she returned to their room. He would be most interested to know how the thought of the Dark Lord made their young pet shiver in longing…

Hermione shook her head slightly, as if clearing it, and increased the pressure of the blade. “You’ve done this to me so many times,” she said, watching the knife as it made slight indentations in the pale skin. “I like the sound it makes when it rakes down your body.”’

Bellatrix fought the urge to arch up into the knife, wanting to be cut harder. Just then, Hermione ran the tip around her nipple, which hardened as the cool steel caressed it. “Mmm,” Bellatrix moaned, closing her eyes rapturously.

The cold blade was immediately removed. “Open your eyes,” Hermione said sternly. “I do not want you to close them. I was punished when I closed mine, remember?”

“Yes,” Bellatrix said eagerly, shifting and biting her bottom lip. “You were…”

“How do I punish a woman who loves pain?” Hermione murmured, sliding the knife to trace the bridge of her nose and over the curve of her lip. “You would bleed me when I shut my eyes…” Lightly, she flicked her wrist, and Bellatrix felt a slight cut on her lower lip. Blood ran down toward her chin, and she went to lick it off, but Hermione shook her head and said, “You always did this to me, as if I were some treat you wanted to enjoy.”

She leaned down and licked the blood off Bella’s lower lip. She winced and shook her head. “I don’t believe that is an affection we share,” Hermione murmured, as she shrugged. She smiled and traced the knife across the woman’s nipples, applying light pressure. “Maybe the punishment for you is to be gentle.”

Leaned down, she ran her tongue across the nipple, and Bellatrix squirmed, unused to such light caresses. Her hands went to tangle in Hermione’s hair, and sensing her movement, the younger woman said lightly, “Don’t.”

Bellatrix dropped her hands, feeling a surge of annoyance that she was being forced to endure Hermione’s gentle kisses down her stomach, her small hands stroking her thighs lightly. The urge to roll the girl over and roughly thrust her fingers into her was overwhelming, but she fought it. I shall do as the Dark Lord wishes.

“Has he ever taken you, Bellatrix?” Hermione asked, fingers skirting dangerously close to her clit, but moving at the last moment to caress her inner thigh. The knife lay next to her on the bed, Bellatrix looked at it longingly.

“No,” Hermione said, amused, her tongue running up Bellatrix’s stomach. “Not yet,
Bella. Tell me, have you ever twisted beneath him, eager and willing?” She nipped Bella’s skin—not hard enough to bruise, but light enough to drive the woman mad with anger.

Hurt me, you silly girl, Bellatrix thought desperately as she clenched her hands in the sheets below her. “Once,” she said, slightly breathless as Hermione traced her finger up her thigh. “Before we were married, he claimed me in front of Rodolphus, so that he would always know to whom I really belong.”

“Did you like it?” Hermione murmured, hand reaching for the knife.

If I give her the correct answer, perhaps she will reward me. “The Dark Lord is gifted at pain,” she said. “Although he is so cold.” She shook her head. “I do not know if I enjoyed it, Hermione, but I learned my lesson, and I am his.”

It was perhaps the most honest thing Bellatrix Lestrange had said since the moment she had declared her undying loyalty to Voldemort the day they’d sentenced her to Azkaban.

Hermione leaned back and nodded once. “You are faithful,” she said. Picking the knife up, she placed it against her skin once more and pressed down hard enough to leave a thin red welt on her skin.

“I am,” Bellatrix moaned, as Hermione slid two fingers into her, roughly, her nails sharp on her heated inner walls. She curved her fingers, moving them in and out in a hurried, jagged rhythm as Bellatrix thrashed beneath her.

Hermione straddled her and in a low voice said, “Remove my shirt, Bella.”
Bellatrix leaned up and ripped her nightshirt off in one violent motion.

Hermione was wearing only her knickers now, and Bellatrix could feel the wet heat of her lover through the thin material of the cotton. “He will chill that warmth, Hermione,” Bellatrix said suddenly, staring up Hermione seriously, her eyes gleaming. “He will take you and your body will be suffused with cold, like you’ve never known.”

“Oh,” Hermione said again, eyes closed as she moved against Bellatrix, straddling her leg and rubbing herself frantically on the other woman’s thigh. “Make me come, Bella,” she said, almost hissing, and Bellatrix smiled when Hermione could not see and slid her fingers beneath the soaked cotton of the girl’s knickers.

“My pleasure, pet,” she cooed, and Hermione’s eyes flew open, glaring down at her.

“Harder,” she bit out and grabbed the knife, laying it next to Bella’s throat. It made Bellatrix tense all over, flushing as warmth suffused her body and desire raged in her veins. “And, Bellatrix, tonight you are my pet.”

“Yes,” Bellatrix said, wanting Hermione to come, wanting to be subjugated and dominated in a way she did not feel unless she was with Rodolphus.

Hermione cried out, muscles tensing around Bellatrix’s finger as she climaxed, collapsing on top of the other woman weakly. Bella shifted underneath her, and Hermione laughed weakly.

“I know,” she cooed, in a voice that reminded Bellatrix eerily of herself. “I know what you want.”

Hermione moved off of her, smiling as she ran the knife over Bellatrix’s clit. Bellatrix moaned, arching up into the chill of the steel, and Hermione leaned down to bite her nipples harshly.

“Come for me, Bella,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss her. “Let me hear you scream and know it’s for me. Let me hear you scream from the bottom of the soul you no longer have.”

Hermione leaned back, bit her lip, and pressed the flat of the blade ever so slightly against Bellatrix’s clit, the edge nipping at her folds.

Bellatrix screamed as the pain took hold and grabbed, as she died a thousand deaths, as agony and pleasure coalesced until she was arching off the bed, sobbing in her release, her eyes closing as the unbearable sensations swept over her. If she bled, she did not know it, nor did she care.

After a while, Bellatrix lazily opened her eyes and smiled at Hermione, who was seated on the bed looking smug. Bellatrix leaned up and took her chin in her long fingers, staring into her eyes. “Well done, Hermione,” she said, for the first time using her name. “You will make a fearsome mate for the Dark Lord.”

Hermione inclined her head. “I shall never forget those who trained me so completely,” she said, “and I shall be grateful for your lessons.”

Bellatrix smiled and inclined her head, feeling absurdly proud of the woman who stared back at her. “You’ve come so far from the woman who was chained on the bed beneath me and Rodolphus.”

Hermione laughed, the sound husky, but said nothing. Bellatrix released her chin and continued, “He asked me for this, Hermione. He wanted me to give you this control. I shall be most pleased to tell him you performed more than adequately.” At the memory of the knife biting into her clit, she shuddered slightly.

Hermione grinned, the expression surprising Bellatrix. “I don’t think you’ll need to tell him anything,” she said simply, as she pointed to the dark corner of the room.

For a moment, Bellatrix waited with bated breath, expecting to see the gleaming red eyes of the Dark Lord in the corner, but instead, she heard a slight hiss and watched as Nagini moved out of the shadows, across the floor, and headed toward the door, no doubt to report to the Dark Lord that his future bride was well-trained with a knife.

~Finis