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It was very late, so late the fire had died on the hearth.
Hermione was drunk off wine and thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The woman was the embodiment of chaos.
She was dangerous.
But, still, Hermione wanted her.
Craved her.
Hermione was reaching for a quill and parchment to write to Lestrange when someone knocked on her front door.
Hermione paused.
Somehow, she knew who it was.
Not getting up, Hermione opened the door with her wand.
At the threshold stood Lestrange. Looking utterly delicious.
“You have some nerve,” Hermione murmured, still relaxed on her settee.
Lestrange stepped inside and closed the door. She approached Hermione slowly, her sexy black dress rustling.
“Oh, shut up, you know you’ve missed me,” growled the gorgeous woman.
“No, I didn’t,” Hermione lied.
Lestrange hesitated, and her beautiful face creased. “Well, I missed you. And at least I can admit it.”
“You don’t have any right to miss me.”
Lestrange hissed in displeasure. Her composure was failing.
Hermione sighed. She didn’t want to row with this woman. She didn’t.
No, she wanted them to fuck. Even if it were a bad, bad decision.
“I was thinking of you," Hermione admitted, feeling like an idiot to do so.
“I wrote to you, but you never responded.”
“Why would I? I have a reputation to uphold, don’t I?”
“Reputations are boring. I’m here to have fun. And to make you squirt.” Lestrange went to her knees before Hermione.
Hermione sat up straight. Expectantly. She didn’t think she would ever tire of Bellatrix Lestrange’s filthy mouth.
“I’ve been thinking of you too, darling,” Lestrange murmured, making room for herself between Hermione’s thighs.
Hermione couldn’t help but react. She was getting wet. And Lestrange knew it.
“I have no business fucking you,” Hermione growled, but her legs fell open as Lestrange ran her hands up and down her thighs.
Lestrange cooed. “I know I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you; but, please, I’m aching for you …”
“You’ll say anything if it means you can fuck with me. And fuck me.”
Lestrange smiled. “Perhaps.”
Snorting, Hermione finished her glass of wine, her head swimming nicely, and she let the murderess Bellatrix Lestrange continue to touch her.
Arouse her.
“Do you remember when you visited me in Azkaban?” Lestrange murmured.
“Of course I do.”
“I remember how you’d looked at me. With hunger. And shame. Because you never wanted to be attracted to someone like me, did you?”
“No,” Hermione answered quietly.
“Why?”
“Because it made me weak.”
Lestrange smiled. “My darling, I promise you, I am the weak one.”
“Hmm,” Hermione said, reaching out to caress Lestrange. It always electrified her to touch the other woman.
It was dangerous to touch her.
Lestrange leaned in closer. “Will you let me pleasure you? Please?”
“The mad and brilliant Bellatrix Lestrange saying please to a Mudblood,” Hermione said, using the offensive word on purpose. “Oh, I wish the entire world could see this moment.”
“You want the entire world to witness me eating your cunt? Tsk, tsk; I knew you were bad.”
Hermione had to laugh. And brightly.
She Summoned her favourite toy. A pink girthy vibrator. Then she took off her bottoms and her knickers, rather unceremoniously.
Spreading her thighs more, Hermione said, almost bored, “Well, go on. Feast.”
Lestrange hissed as she leaned forward. The first swipe of her molten tongue made Hermione cry out.
“Fuck,” Hermione growled, and her hands buried themselves in Lestrange’s black curls.
Lestrange, moaning, ate her with desperate hunger. Her tongue was greedy. So were her lips. As they suckled on Hermione’s clit.
Hermione couldn’t help but babble. “Yes, yes, fuck yes; just like that … Fuck. You know how to make me come. You do, you do.”
“Pretty little sweet,” Lestrange growled back, lapping up all her wet, teasing her entrance with her tongue. “And so fucking tight.”
Hermione handed over the toy. “I want you to destroy me.”
Lestrange laughed as she turned it on. The toy was Muggle. “How … barbaric. And stupid.”
Hermione bared her teeth. “Stick it in me, damn you.”
“Yes, darling.”
Lestrange forced the toy inside Hermione’s tight pussy. Then she began to fuck her with it; and Hermione was so wet that it made an obscene noise.
It was the best kind of noise.
Lestrange watched the toy spread her pink lips greedily; she watched it force its vibrating shaft past her tight, tight opening.
And Hermione, thighs now quivering, squeezed around it.
Then Lestrange leaned back in to lick her clit, make love to it, and Hermione cried out and squirted.
Lestrange moaned. “Yes, yes, come for me.”
Hermione held her head down as she rolled her hips up, trying to fuck herself on the toy.
And Lestrange didn’t stop thrusting it, deeper, deeper; and Hermione felt herself squirt a little more.
“BELLATRIX!” Hermione cried out as she hit her peak.
The pleasure was so intense that her cunt did its best to push out the toy entirely.
“Mmm, mmm, yes,” Lestrange moaned, fucking Hermione through her orgasmic wave. “I love you, my little Mudblood. And your perfect little cunt.”
Hermione had to snort, even as she still quaked from her orgasm. “Do shut up.”
Lestrange captured her mouth in a desperate, claiming kiss.
“Can I touch you?” Hermione gasped after the thorough snog.
“Just a little,” Lestrange cooed, and guided Hermione’s hand under her dress, to her soaked lacy knickers.
They stared into each other’s eyes as Hermione stroked her burning cunt through the lace.
Then, feeling victorious, Hermione managed to locate her clit and rub it with her thumb.
Lestrange’s mouth fell open.
“Your pussy feels so plump,” Hermione cooed. “Plump enough to burst …”
Lestrange’s beautiful dark eyes rolled back. She released a flood of wet as she shook through her orgasm, utterly drenching her knickers.
Hermione delighted in her wet fingers, and she even stuck them into her mouth, tasting the forbiddeness of Lestrange’s release.
“Bad girl,” Lestrange hissed.
Afterward, they curled up on the settee again, enjoying the renewed fire—and the renewed bottle of wine.
“I hate my job,” Hermione announced suddenly.
Lestrange laughed. “You work at the Ministry. What do you expect?”
Hermione shook her head. “I just want to help people reform … but nobody wants to help me do it the proper way. Takes too much time and money. And patience.”
“Yes, well, you utterly failed to reform me,” Lestrange purred.
“No, I didn’t! You are my star example, thank you very much!”
Lestrange grinned darkly at her.
Hermione sighed again. “I just want to run away. Turn my back on everything. Fuck my way across Europe and Asia. The world.”
Taking up her hand, Lestrange gave her knuckles a hot, lingering kiss. “Run away with me, my darling. And I won’t ever stop making you come.”
At first, Hermione didn’t take her seriously; but then she thought about it. “Would you let me touch you? Properly? If I left with you?”
Lestrange smiled. “I’d do anything if it meant I could have you. Always.”
“But what would people think? If they saw us together?”
“Why should you care what anyone thinks of you? Of us. I know I don’t.” There was a moment of silence, then Lestrange continued quietly, “You know I meant what I said. I do love you.”
Hermione’s gaze snapped to hers. “But you call me Mudblood.”
“Only because it makes you hot.”
Hermione bit her lip and looked away. “I don’t know if I believe that you love me, but … I do want to leave. Get away. I—I shall run away with you.”
“Brilliant,” Lestrange hissed, and dragged Hermione into a hot kiss. Then: “Please don’t ever leave me.”
Hermione shook her head in amazement. “I won’t, Bella.”
It was early morning, and the world was blurring around Hermione.
And she had just promised to run away with Bellatrix Lestrange.
She would be utterly mad if she actually went through with it …
But, perhaps, Hermione was mad.
Very, very mad.