Work Text:
Hermione tumbled through the door in a flurry of snowflakes, her nose red above the knitted scarf wrapped around her lower face and neck. She shivered as the door closed behind her and the smell of roasting coffee and baking wafted over, enveloping her senses.
Walking towards the counter, glad of the warm and relaxed ambience inside, she pulled off her scarf and the matching hat, shaking out her hair as the snowflakes that clung to it melted.
“Hermione!” Draco grinned at her from behind the counter. “You look like Rudolph.”
“You are so complimentary,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Why are we friends again?”
“Because you love me and I give you free coffees and hot chocolates that get you through your PhD.”
“Ugh, you’re right. About the love part; I’d be your friend even if you didn’t basically fuel my existence.”
“You know, you should take a night off. Do something fun.”
“When was the last time you saw me have a night off?”
“Never, which is exactly my point. You should. It’ll give you a fresh perspective, reset your batteries… I don’t know, something like that. Besides, you’re off for a few days for the holidays, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I want to get ahead.”
“Why don’t you go out and get head instead?” Draco smirked, passing over a steaming mug of hot chocolate topped with cream and chocolate shavings. Hermione almost dropped it.
“Draco!” She gasped, looking around to make sure no one had heard. “You can’t say things like that!”
“Sure I can.” He turned to one of the managers. “I can say that, right Fred?”
The red-haired manager grinned at him from where he was checking stock and pretended to think.
“I don’t know, George, what do you reckon?”
George popped up from the other end of the counter.
“I reckon he can, Fred.”
“Looks like you can, Draco,” Fred grinned, sending a wink to Hermione. She rolled her eyes but could help the chuckle that escaped her.
“You two are worse than him.”
Fred and George both put their hands against their hearts in mock indignation, gasping.
“Well, I for one am hurt. Aren’t you, Fred?”
“Deeply wounded, George.”
“Shut up,” Hermione chuckled. “I’m going to grab a table and get on.”
“Got a pianist coming in soon,” Fred said. “Should make working a bit more fun at least.”
“Nice,” Hermione grinned. She turned and looked for a spare table, finding one not too far from the piano in the corner. She liked when the boys got musicians in to add to the vibe of the coffee shop, especially around Christmas.
Perching herself on the chair, Hermione placed her hot chocolate down before opening her bag and collecting her laptop, notebook and textbook and spreading them out.
Twenty minutes later, buried in her work with nothing left of her hot chocolate, Hermione noticed the piano come to life. She glanced up and found her eyes transfixed on a woman with incredible black hair with streaks of grey running through the chaotic curls, long pale fingers stroking the keys as a Christmas melody began to drift from the instrument. Hermione could only see part of her face from her vantage point, most of it being covered by her hair, but she could see that her eyes were closed as she played, her head moving with the music and it made Hermione’s heart flutter.
Oh.
Hermione was transfixed and as such, didn’t notice when Draco approached her until the sound of a mug rattling against a saucer sounded right next to her ear. She jumped, almost sending it crashing out of his hand.
“Jeez, Hermione, jumpy much?”
“Sorry,” she apologised as he set the new mug of hot chocolate down in front of her and then sat in the seat opposite with his own. “I was… thinking. Erm… You’re on your break?”
“Yeah,” he grinned, taking a sip of coffee and closing his eyes briefly. “Finally. It’s been a nightmare all afternoon.”
“How much longer are you here?”
“Two hours. Then I’m taking my Aunt for dinner.”
“Your aunt’s visiting?” Hermione asked, taking a sip from her mug and trying to not look obvious as she shifted her seat, allowing her to glance at the piano player again over Draco’s shoulder. “Which one?”
“Bella,” he shrugged and then twisted to look at the piano player before turning back to her and jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s her.”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“That’s your Aunt Bella?”
“Well… yeah. Why?” Draco’s eyebrow rose.
“Nothing I just… you didn’t say when Fred mentioned a new piano player. She’s… uh… very good.”
“Yeah, she said she’d get bored wandering around aimlessly and I suggested she could come in and get a drink. When she heard about the piano she offered to play if the slot wasn’t filled.”
“You never mentioned she played piano.” Hermione took another sip of her hot chocolate gratefully.
“Didn’t I?” Draco frowned and then shrugged. “I told you she goes on tour though, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t realise you meant… I thought you meant like... as a tour manager or something.”
“But I’m sure I played you one of her albums…” He trailed off, thinking. “Yeah, it was that night we ordered pizza and talked about what we’d be doing in ten years.”
“Wait, no, when I said I liked the album you didn’t tell me it was her!” Hermione said, leaning forward. “You just said I could put it on my laptop if I wanted. I listen to her all the time.”
It was true. Hermione found the sultry, slightly rough voice of the singer to be quite enticing and she could often be found dramatically dancing around her small apartment to her music, pretending to sing into a hairbrush or seduce a non-existent lover with a dance.
She blushed at the thought and glanced back at the piano player. Yes, she could well believe that she was the owner of such a sexy voice.
“Erm, earth to Hermione?” Draco waved his hand in front of her face.
“Hmm? Sorry, I just… I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”
“It’s alright,” he studied her and then a sly grin slipped onto his face. “You want me to get you her autograph?”
Hermione blushed hard.
“No! No, I’m fine.”
“Mhmmm,” he teased. “What are you doing tonight, anyway?”
“Studying.”
“UGH.” He groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “You’re impossible. You need a life.”
“I have a life.”
“I don’t know if this counts,” he gestured to her work in front of her.
“I have you too, and the twins. I’ve got hobbies.”
“Your hobbies are reading and listening to music, those are both solitary things and not ones that will get you laid.”
“Why are you so obsessed with me getting laid? Why don’t you get laid?”
“I get laid.”
“When was the last time you got laid?” She asked, although she had a horrible feeling that she knew the answer.
“Last night,” he grinned and winked at her. “And honestly, I have never been so thoroughly-”
“Ok I do not need to know where that’s going,” she interrupted, putting her hand up to stop him when he opened his mouth again. “No, don’t, seriously. Your hot chocolate’s are so lovely; I don’t want to risk bringing it back up.”
“”Gross,” he wrinkled his nose. “Listen, come out to dinner tonight.”
“What? No! I’m not going to interrupt your family time. You said you barely see your aunt.”
“I don’t, but you’re family too and this way I can introduce you.”
“But-”
“No buts. You’re not going home for the holidays and quite frankly, I don’t think you’re even eating properly at home. Half the time I see you working you’ve forgotten one meal or another. We’re getting dinner. I’ll go tell Aunt Bella.”
Before Hermione could protest, Draco stood up and headed over to the piano. He leaned against it and started talking to his aunt. Hermione watched and when they both looked over, Bella’s fingers still moving across the keys without missing a beat, she blushed and gave an awkward wave.
Bella was stunning. Her eyes looked black from where Hermione sat and thick eyelashes framed them, making them appear even bigger. Her lips were red and they appeared to quirk into a small smirk as she surveyed Hermione, before turning back to Draco and nodding. He grinned and returned to Hermione, who was buried her head in her hands as he sat down and announced that it was all sorted.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Please, I want you to come. Anyway, now you can discreetly ask her about her music,” he grinned.
“I don’t know whether to love or hate you right now.”
“Definitely love,” he grinned, finishing off his coffee. “Look, I have to get back to work, but don’t run off. We’re going to dinner.”
“Okay, okay,” Hermione gave him a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He squeezed her shoulder as he passed her and when she glanced at Bella again, she saw the woman studying her, before she turned her attention to the piano again.
***
Hermione glanced up from her laptop as the spare chair at her table moved and froze when she realised that Draco’s Aunt Bella was lowering herself into it.
“Hello,” the older woman said and her speaking voice was just as sultry as her singing one. “So you’re Hermione.”
“And you’re Draco’s Aunt Bella.”
“Bella, please. I hope you don’t mind me joining you, only I’ve heard so much about you from Draco that for a while I thought he’d become interested in women.”
“Draco’s gay?” Hermione asked and Bella’s eyebrow arched, eyes widening a little.
“You didn’t know?”
“No I knew,” Hermione grinned, allowing the teasing smile onto her face. Bella’s lips quirked into a smirk and she trailed her eyes over the woman in front of her, much to Hermione’s embarrassment. She had thrown on her favourite green, long-sleeved top with four buttons going down in a line between her breasts, a pair of jeans and a heavy black cardigan this morning, not thinking that she would be doing anything more than working and seeing Draco, Fred and George. Still, Bella’s eyes were not disapproving, although Hermione’s fingers twitched with the urge to pull her hair down from her messy bun, to try and make herself look more presentable.
“So, he wasn’t exaggerating about you being mischievous,” Bella replied, resting her elbow on the table and leaning on her hand; eyes never leaving Hermione. “Although I had anticipated some sort of shy bookworm who only opened up around close friends.”
“What has he been telling you?” Hermione found herself copying Bella, leaning forward on her hand. Bella’s eyes sparkled and Hermione realised that they were more like dark chocolate than black. She wasn’t sure why that comparison made her flick her tongue out to wet her lips, or why Bella’s eyes flicked to her mouth when she did.
“Nothing bad,” Bella’s tone seemed lower. “I’m sure he’s told you worse about me.”
“No,” Hermione murmured. “I only just found out that you’re the musician behind my favourite album.”
Amusement sparked in Bella’s eyes, only to be replaced with a flicker of hurt.
“Ah, well. I suppose I’m not around a lot.”
“Oh,” Hermione realised that she’d hurt her and rushed to explain. “No, it’s not that he doesn’t talk about you. He talks about you a lot actually, you and Andy and his mum and how you always turn up for his birthdays and the holidays no matter what, how you used to read him the best bedtime stories as a kid, that you’re on the road on tour a lot and that he’s so proud of you…”
She trailed off when she saw Bella’s lips quirk in amusement.
“I’m rambling.” Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment.
“I found it rather endearing. Adorable.”
If Hermione’s cheeks hadn’t been pink before, they were now.
“Um… thanks?”
“So one of my albums is your favourite?” Bella raised her eyebrow and smirked again, sitting back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other, one arm crooked and resting on the back of the chair.
“Yes… well… I’m not sure which. It wasn’t an official album or anything, just a CD, but Draco played it for me one night and when I said I loved it he let me copy it to my laptop.”
“That would be one of the demos I sent to him,” Bella replied, cocking her head to the side. “I never release the songs before he and my sister’s have heard them.”
“They’re really good.”
“Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” Bella’s voice coated each word in a layer of sultry teasing that made Hermione shiver.
“I’m just being honest.”
“Hmmm,” Bella studied her again. “Which is your favourite?”
“The Sweetest death,” Hermione replied, without hesitation, before blushing. That song was filled with rich vocals about seduction and the occasional breathy sound left in the unedited recording that had always made Hermione’s skin tingle. “At least, I imagine that’s what it’s called.”
“Sing it,” Bella hummed.
“Uh.. what?”
“Sing a few lines and I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t really sing.”
“Draco told me you’re a lovely singer.”
Hermione cursed Draco internally and glanced over at him with her brow furrowed.
“I think he’s exaggerating. I only sing in my apartment or on the rare occasion I have a drink.”
“What a shame,” Bella leaned forward again and Hermione’s throat went dry. “I was quite looking forward to hearing you.”
Hermione chewed her lip and then sucked in a deep breath, her cheeks pink. She leaned forward, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention and sang a few lines from the chorus, as quietly as she could.
“The sweetest death I ever knew
Was the one I found with you…”
Bella’s eyes were transfixed on Hermione’s lips and as she trailed off, biting her lip again, embarrassed, the older woman hummed and sang the next two lines in a low, yet breathy voice, as quiet as Hermione’s had been.
“Found my light between your thighs,
Where we spiralled into starry skies.”
Hermione realised she’d been holding her breath and let it go in a sighing rush that made the other woman smirk lightly. Hermione cleared her throat and nodded, eyeing her empty hot chocolate mug and wishing she had a drink to wet her throat.
“Yes,” it came out hoarse and she tried again. “That’s the song.”
“It’s actually called ‘My Sweet Death’, but I think I like your title better,” Bella mused. “Perhaps I should change it before the album releases in the new year.”
“It’s not out yet?” That explained why Hermione hadn’t been able to find the songs anywhere online; she’d been so disappointed to not be able to find any more songs by identifying the artist, but always forgot to ask Draco when she saw him.
“No,” Bella’s lips quirked. “My nephew would be in trouble if I didn’t find it so endearing that you like my work.”
“I do, I was upset when I couldn’t find the songs so that…” Hermione trailed off, realising that she was rambling again and would be admitting to searching for the artist for hours one night while listening to the album on repeat for hours.
“So that you could find more of my work?” Bella guessed and when Hermione nodded her smirk grew so wide that she revealed pearly white teeth. “Well, now you know.”
“I mean, I know your first name…” Hermione said, unsure of where she was getting the gall to ask this woman more information.
“Technically,” Bella smiled, leaning even closer so she could whisper conspiratorially, “my name is Bellatrix Black.”
“Bellatrix…” Hermione murmured and the name felt nice as she curled her tongue around it. Bella’s eyes dropped to her lips again and an amused and somewhat roguish grin appeared on her lips.
“Yes, Hermione…” She dragged out Hermione’s name, rolling it over her tongue much in the way that Hermione had just done with hers and it made the younger woman blush when she realised how it sounded. She sat back a little, suddenly feeling very hot and pulled off her cardigan, dropping it onto the back of the seat. Bellatrix sat back too, still grinning, and surveyed Hermione’s set up. “So, studying? Draco said that you’re doing your PhD?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied and when Bellatrix arched her eyebrow, expectantly, she continued. “In English. I’m planning to become a lecturer and write.”
“Hermione… I’m sorry, if Draco told me your last name it has escaped me.”
“Granger.”
“Hermione Granger, PhD. Has a nice ring to it. Doctor Granger… not bad.”
“Thank you,” Hermione replied, because she couldn’t think of what else to say when Bellatrix was saying her name. Before she could scramble to think of something else, Draco appeared.
“Oh good, you’ve met. Ready to go?”
Hermione looked at her pile of work, hesitating and then caught Bellatrix’s eye. The older woman was looking at her as though she wanted her to say yes.
“Sure, let me just pack this away.”
***
“Oh, I don’t know,” Bellatrix smirked, lounging back in her seat with her glass of red wine between her fingers. “I’m sure if I told you any more tour stories your mother would crucify me.”
“I am an adult, Aunt Bella,” Draco complained as Hermione hid her grin behind her own drink. She had quickly realised that Draco and Bella had an amusing dynamic, where Bella would be utterly honest and open about every topic, only to tease that she should walk it back in case he was too young or too innocent for the story.
“But Cissy still views you as her little baby.” Bellatrix grinned as Draco blushed. “Perhaps I should just tell Hermione.”
“She’s the same age as me!” He cried indignantly. Bellatrix winked at Hermione. “Well, a year older. But it’s basically the same.”
“A year older, my my,” Bellatrix took a sip of her wine. “So perhaps you’re as innocent as Draco.”
“I think that-” Hermione began, but Draco interrupted, delighted with the teasing turning to Hermione.
“More innocent if anything, because Hermione doesn’t… uh… date, much.”
Hermione shot him a look as Bellatrix’s chuckle reverberated in her chest.
“And by ‘date’, I assume you mean explore the many options of the city without restraint?”
“Hey! I have restraint!” Draco cried and Hermione chuckled again. “And how did this turn back on me?”
“Well,” Bellatrix replied, casting a look over Hermione as though she were considering whether to tease her mercilessly. Hermione shifted in her seat but kept her eyes locked on the woman, refusing to back down. “I suppose we could discuss why the future Doctor Granger doesn’t date.”
“We could. I doubt you would find the answer entertaining,” Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. She crossed her legs the other way and tried not to think about what it meant that she had angled herself more towards the other woman.
“Try me,” Bellatrix replied over the rim of her wine glass.
“I spend most of my time working on my PhD and when I’m not doing that I don’t want the stress of having to try and look perfect to find someone when I could just hang out with my friends or have some me time.”
“And by me time she means-” Draco began.
“-NO I DO NOT,” Hermione shot at him, tempted to throw the napkin by her empty plate.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little… me time.” Bellatrix purred and Hermione’s throat went suddenly dry as her eyes flicked back to her. “Granted, I have found that the experience is elevated by having someone to share it with.”
Hermione quickly took a gulp of her wine as Draco groaned.
“Oh come on. One thing I am too innocent for is to hear about the details of your tour escapades, Aunt B.”
Bellatrix chuckled and her eyes flicked to Hermione again, giving her a once over from under thick lashes, before she took another sip of wine.
“Well then propose another topic, Draco.”
“I’m going to let you two handle that; I have to nip to the bathroom.” He stood and looked at Hermione.
“You going to be alright?”
“Sure,” she shrugged, as though the thought of being alone with Bellatrix didn’t affect her at all.
“You say that as though I’m going to do something dreadful while you’re gone,” Bellatrix teased.
“Can’t be too careful,” Draco laughed and disappeared.
There was a moment of silence as Bellatrix turned her attention to Hermione and studied her over her wine class, while Hermione took a sip of her drink to give her time to think of what to say.
“So,” she said awkwardly, when nothing came to her and Bellatrix was still watching her with a lazy smirk on her red lips. “Um… you and Draco are really close.”
Bellatrix chuckled.
“Hermione, may I ask you a question?”
Hermione felt an odd fluttering in her chest.
“Sure.”
“When was the last time that you…” she smirked. “‘Dated’ anyone?”
Hermione could feel the blush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks before she could even open her mouth to respond. She considered avoiding the question, brushing it off or refusing to answer outright, but something in her wanted to answer.
“Around a year ago.”
“Hmm,” Bellatrix hummed and crossed her legs; Hermione felt the briefest brush against her leg and her heart-rate spiked. “Anyone particularly thrilling?”
“My ex.” Hermione’s voice was suddenly hoarse.
“And was… your ex,” the way she paused made Hermione’s muscles clench; it was as though she knew exactly what Hermione was saying. “...Capable?”
“Capable?” Hermione took another drink; she knew what Bellatrix meant but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for her. She was starting to get the sense that they were playing a game and if she didn’t play along, she might regret it tomorrow.
Bellatrix’s smirk twitched and she put down her glass, leaning closer.
“Yes,” she beckoned Hermione close with her finger, curling it back towards herself in a way that made Hermione uncross her legs and lean in. Bellatrix’s breath ghosted over her skin as the woman leaned past her face to her ear, inhaling breathily in a way that made Hermione’s eyelashes flutter until her eyes were almost closed. “Did she give you the sweetest death imaginable?”
Hermione inhaled sharply and Bellatrix drew back so that she was looking her in the eyes again, no trace of teasing left on her face. Hermione’s brain felt barren and alive all in one go; too many half formed answers darting across neurons that were no longer firing at their usual rate.
“She… how did you…? No?”
“No?” Bellatrix’s tongue flicked out to wet her own lips. “A tragedy like that should be corrected, don’t you think?”
Hermione was entirely sure that she had died. That could be the only reasonable explanation for the fact that her brain, usually so capable, had given up entirely on any kind of functionality. She had even stopped breathing.
Bellatrix withdrew with a smirk as Hermione wrestled with her tongue, trying to form a response.
“Alright, so what topic did we land on?” Draco reappeared, making Hermione jump, and dropped down into his seat. “Hermione, you alright?”
“We were discussing whether we wanted dessert,” Bellatrix said smoothly, picking up her glass of wine again for a sip. “Hermione is debating her choice.”
Hermione took another drink, grateful for the momentary grace period.
“Well, I got a message while I was in the bathroom. My… um, friend, wants me to hang out when we’re done. But I’m totally up for dessert if you two want it?”
“I’m…” Hermione tried to keep her eyes on Draco, because she had a feeling that if she looked at Bellatrix again, she’d lose her voice completely. “I’m happy to go.”
Bellatrix tapped her finger against her lips and studied Hermione, then smiled.
“Well, then let’s go. I’ll get the bill.”
“Oh no, you have to let me pay for my-” Hermione started, but Bellatrix arched an eyebrow at her that made her trail off.
“My treat.” She stood and headed off to the bar, leaving the two friends at the table.
“She never lets me pay either,” Draco said.
“She seems like the type of person who likes to get her way,” Hermione murmured, more to herself than Draco.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Did she say something to you?” Draco asked. “You were really red in the face when I got back.”
“Just a little wine down the wrong hole,” Hermione replied, wishing she was as smooth of a liar as Bellatrix. But really, had Bellatrix been lying? The metaphor hadn’t escaped Hermione, no matter how little of her had recovered from their interaction. “I’m fine.”
“Alright. Because you know, sometimes my whole family can be a lot to handle.”
“I can handle her fine,” Hermione chuckled.
“Oh you’re so lucky she didn’t hear that. She’s a master at turning anything into a sex joke.”
“That doesn’t surprise me either.”
They grabbed their coats and wrapped up, then headed to meet Bellatrix at the bar where she had just finished paying.
“So, Draco, where does your friend live?”
“Actually he’s just two minutes from here,” he said. “You don’t mind me ditching?”
“No, of course not,” Bellatrix hummed, pulling him in for a hug. “We have the whole holiday break to catch up. Go.”
“Thanks B. Hermione, you okay?”
“Yes, I can catch a taxi home or brave the snow,” Hermione smiled.
“Where do you live?” Bellatrix asked. “We could share a taxi.”
“Oh, yeah, Hermione’s place is a bit further than you but that’d be great,” Draco grinned before Hermione could reply. “I’d feel better about ditching you then.”
Hermione looked between her friend and Bellatrix and then nodded, attempting a smile. Alone, in a taxi, with Bellatrix? Her stomach flipped again and she could feel heat creeping through her.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
There was a taxi rank just down the street, so Draco walked them there through the snow that hadn’t stopped all day and they climbed in, shivering, waving at him as the taxi pulled away.
“Where to?” The driver asked.
Bellatrix gave her address and Hermione hers before they sat back and the silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the music from the radio and the taxi driver who was talking to someone on the other end of his bluetooth headpiece.
Hermione glanced over at Bellatrix and found her looking out of the window at the snow. She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. Should she mention what the other woman had said at dinner?
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Bellatrix’s sultry voice made her start in her seat and she glanced back over to find those eyes on her again. “I may be forward, but I would never do anything without you agreeing first.”
“What? I-”
“Hermione, I’m a grown woman. If you tell me that you don’t want to come up to my apartment then I will accept that in good grace.” She smiled at Hermione, cocking her head to the side before capturing her lip between her teeth briefly. “Of course if, when this taxi stops, you join me, I can promise you that I am more than capable of leaving you satisfied, should that be your desire.”
“You’re… Draco is my friend.”
“Yes, he is,” she replied simply.
“If he found out…”
“I’m hardly proposing, darling,” she chuckled softly. “I don’t expect that you’d want to explore anything past a night with me. I am much older than you and hardly a poster woman for stability with my lifestyle. Not ideal for a young, ambitious woman with the world at her feet. In fact I’m rather surprised that you considered anyone besides the two of us finding out at all.”
“I’ve never had a one night stand,” Hermione admitted. She turned to stare out of the window, scared that she’d be judged. There was a silence and then soft, cold fingers brushed against her neck and as she turned, with a small gasp, they followed her by one trailing along her jaw. Bellatrix’s eyes could have swallowed her; they drew her in so deeply.
“Since we are admitting things,” Bellatrix’s thumb brushed over Hermione’s bottom lip and Hermione’s breathing became shaky, “I have never been in a relationship.”
“Never?”
“No,” Bellatrix hummed, her eyes on Hermione’s lips. “I am not someone who many people find easy to be around.”
“In my experience,” Hermione replied, swallowing, “limited as it may be, I have come to the conclusion that nothing worth having is ever easy.”
Bellatrix’s lips twitched.
“Smart and beautiful, mischievous and kind,” she let her teeth graze her lip and then slowly removed her hand from Hermione’s face. “Whoever you love will be very lucky indeed.”
The rest of the journey was spent in silence, both women staring out of their windows at the snow, mulling over what had happened between them during the evening. When the taxi pulled to a stop outside a large apartment complex, Bellatrix leaned forward and pushed the money for the journey so far through the payment slot before Hermione could protest.
“You bought dinner, I should-”
“It was a pleasure,” Bellatrix looked at her, a small smile on her lips. “Good luck, Hermione Granger, PhD. Yes… I think that suits you quite a lot.”
She leaned towards Hermione and for a moment, the younger woman thought that she would kiss her, but Bellatrix’s cheek grazed hers and then her lips pressed briefly against her cheekbone before Bellatrix was climbing out of the car, leaving Hermione frozen in her seat.
The door closed.
“Alright love, what was your address again?” The taxi driver asked.
“Uh, it’s…” Hermione glanced out of the window and saw Bellatrix’s back as she hurried across the pavement towards the doors of the building, shoulders hunched against the snow. “Actually, I’m fine here. Thank you.”
Hermione practically threw herself across the taxi and into the cold, slamming the door behind her and hurrying across the pavement as the snow bit at her face with cold teeth. The door in front of her was swinging closed and she caught it before it shut, pulling it open and tumbling inside.
Bellatrix turned, her eyebrow raising in surprise, before a smile slipped onto her lips.
“I…” Hermione shook off the snow and stamped her feet on the mat so that she didn’t tread any into the building, which was far nicer than hers. “I decided that there’s a reason why that song is my favourite; you know, The Sweetest Death? I think I’d like for you to show me what you meant when you wrote it.”
Bellatrix’s smile turned into a delighted smirk.
“Well then,” she purred. “You had better come up.”
Hermione followed Bellatrix to the elevator and watched as a long, pale finger pressed for the ninth floor. They stood silently, although Hermione could practically hear the hum of tension between them as the floors slipped by. A few times, she thought about saying something, but then she would catch sight of Bellatrix in the reflective door and all thoughts of speaking died in her throat.
When the doors opened, she followed Bellatrix down the corridor to number thirty four and waited, twisting her fingers together, as the older woman smoothly slid the key in and opened the door.
“After you,” she murmured, turning her eyes on Hermione. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
Hermione straightened and stopped twisting her fingers, stepping through the door. She had not changed her mind, no matter how much her nerves were thrumming; so loudly she thought she could hear blood rushing in her ears.
The apartment was nice, sleek and stylish with a few elements that seemed to scream Bellatrix. It wasn’t particularly homey but she had made it comfortable; Hermione guessed there was little point in making it a home when she was hardly here. As they walked further in, Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the grand piano that filled a large section of the living room area.
“Wow… how did they even get that in here?”
“I didn’t ask,” Bellatrix chuckled, shrugging off her coat. “I was on tour. I suppose I’ll find out if I ever move and want to take it with me.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to take it with you?” Hermione whispered, admiring it’s sleek shape and gleaming top. “It’s incredible.”
Bellatrix hummed.
“Would you like me to take your coat?”
“Oh,” she turned away from the piano, remembering why they were here. “Yes, sorry.”
She slipped off her bag and coat and Bellatrix took them both, hanging them in a cupboard in the hallway. She slipped off her shoes and Hermione realised that she had left pools of water where she had walked across the wood floor. Bellatrix saw her eyes widening and pre-empted her apology.
“It’s fine,” she teased. “It may look like a showroom but when I’m here I don’t stand on ceremony. It only looks this clean because Narcissa sends cleaners in before I return and I only arrived this morning.”
She grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and laid them over the little puddles as Hermione took off her shoes and put them by the door, not wanting to warp the floor.
“I’m sorry, anyway,” Hermione said as Bellatrix toed the towels across the floor.
“Don’t be,” she hummed, picking them up and depositing them in a bin. “Really, if we had met at the end of the holiday, you would realise that my apartment is normally a disaster zone.”
“Somehow it seemed too... clean for you.” Hermione admitted. Bellatrix’s eyebrow quirked.
“Are you saying that I’m dirty?”
Hermione’s cheeks heated, but she smirked back.
“I don’t know yet, do I?”
Bellatrix’s lips curled and she stepped towards her.
“Do you want to find out?”
The air between them was suddenly charged again, as though a spark had been lit and now the air was alive with electricity. Hermione swallowed and pushed away the small, lingering hesitation.
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
Bellatrix’s hum made Hermione ache; a deep, pleased sound verging on a purr. She stepped a little closer to Bellatrix, who smirked and lifted her hand to push a stray strand of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as it escaped from her bun.
“What do you look like with your hair down, Hermione Granger?” Her voice, an octave lower than before, sounded almost wistful. Hermione found herself raising her hand to her hair and pulling at the hair band, unwrapping it from her hair and letting it tumble around her face. Having been up all day, it had curled more than usual, and Bellatrix’s finger wrapped around a curl, stroking down it between her forefinger and thumb before letting it fall against Hermione’s collarbone. “Beautiful.”
Hermione blushed and ducked her head, before Bellatrix lifted her chin with a finger.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Hermione murmured. Bellatrix smiled softly.
“It is not a competition, dear one.” She stroked her thumb over Hermione’s bottom lip and Hermione saw the softness in her eyes that accompanied the wistfulness she had seen. She was surprised at how gentle Bellatrix was being after how forward she had been earlier. Surprised, but not disappointed. The gentle way that Bellatrix considered her washed away the lingering doubts that she had been pushing down and she found herself parting her lips and pressing a light kiss to the digit, grazing it slightly with her teeth.
Bellatrix’s breath caught.
They stood, suspended in the moment, until Bellatrix breathed out again and her eyelashes fluttered.
“I must admit,” Bellatrix hummed as her thumb skimmed Hermione’s lip once more before she lifted her hand to the younger woman’s hair, running her fingers through it and behind her ear, her thumb cupping her jaw, “I have never been quite so determined to make someone mine.”
Hermione’s eyelashes fluttered and her eyes felt heavy and lidded as they were drawn to Bellatrix’s lips, honeyed words clinging to them; sticky and sweet.
“Please,” Hermione’s voice was almost unrecognisable, her throat thick with the desire filling her; coursing through every vein. “Make me yours.”
Bellatrix’s breath skated over her lips as she hovered, stretching the moment, her eyes flicking once more to Hermione’s before they returned to her lips as Hermione leaned in, desperate. Bellatrix held her still, eyes fluttering and then finally, closed the distance.
The first brush of those plump red lips against Hermione’s felt like slipping into a warm bath. The initial shock sent electricity through her, goosebumps lifting along her skin, and then she was enveloped in the heat that consumed her, as Bellatrix’s lips claimed her completely.
Hermione only became aware that her fingers were fisted in the material of Bellatrix’s shirt when they parted for air and she surfaced enough from her delirium to realise that they were shaking. Bellatrix glanced down and covered Hermione’s hands in her own, helping her release them.
“We don’t have to do this,” she murmured heavily as she smoothed her thumbs over the back of Hermione’s hands. “You’re shaking.”
“Why are we still talking?” Hermione whispered and leaned up to kiss her again.
***
Hours later, Hermione woke to an empty bed, the moon shining in through the open blinds. It had stopped snowing and she stared out at the bright sky with her hand stretched over the empty space beside her for a few moments before sitting up. She could feel her hair was in disarray, and as she moved she realised her thighs were sticky with the evidence of their last round of love making. She slipped from the bed and felt her way into the bathroom, where she used the toilet and cleaned herself up a bit, before taking a silk robe from the door and wrapping it around herself.
She padded into the rest of the apartment, drawn by the sounds of the piano being played softly. Moonlight spilled through the floor to ceiling windows, the curtains never drawn. The light cast odd shadows across the room, but Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the piano.
Bellatrix sat there, her eyes closed, and the song that spilled from the keys was Hermione’s favourite. She stood like a statue, frozen in moonlight, unwilling to break the spell. This had to be a dream; she had never seen something as beautiful as Bellatrix bathed in moonlight, lost in her music, her lips parted as she mouthed lyrics.
Without realising, Hermione stepped forward quietly, unable to resist the pull this woman had on her. As she got closer, she realised that Bellatrix was not mouthing the words; they slipped from her lips so softly that they almost drowned in the notes of the piano; music and lyrics moulding together beautifully.
Hermione had almost reached the piano when Bellatrix’s eyes slipped open and she saw her. For a moment, she froze, the melody interrupted, but then the notes continued and a soft smile played at her lips. Hermione took this as an invitation and closed the distance, hovering by the piano and looking down at Bellatrix’s fingers as they caressed the keys in a dance.
“Join me,” Bellatrix murmured. Hermione sank onto the seat without hesitation and Bellatrix’s fingers paused on the keys, before the song began from the beginning.
As Bellatrix began to sing, Hermione’s heart fluttered; the words seemed to trace over her skin like Bellatrix’s fingertips had earlier and as she reached the chorus, the older woman turned her head slightly to look at Hermione through lidded eyes.
“The sweetest death I ever knew
Was the one I found with you…
Found my light between your thighs,
Where we spiralled into starry skies…”
Hermione couldn’t help herself; she leaned in and captured Bellatrix’s lips with her own. The notes faltered as Bellatrix’s fingers abandoned the keys and wove their way into Hermione’s hair instead. When their lips parted slowly with a delicious tearing sound that had Hermione inhaling shakily, Bellatrix’s eyes glistened with unspilled tears, but she wasn’t sad.
“I understand now,” Hermione murmured. “What you mean when you sing that.”
Bellatrix smiled, a whisper of a chuckle escaping her lips.
“The sweetest death?”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered. “I’m sure I will never experience it again, if you never take me to bed again.”
Bellatrix held her gaze for a moment and then looked down at the piano.
“I didn’t promise you anything.”
Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, pressing her lips together.
“No, you didn’t.” She stood, intending to find her clothes and leave.
Bellatrix’s fingers closed around her wrist gently, pulling her back.
“Stay,” she whispered, a plea in the stillness of the night. Hermione hesitated and then tangled her fingers in the woman’s hair, stroking through it as her forehead rested against Hermione’s stomach. Bellatrix’s lips danced over her wrist and then her fingers began to pull gently at the tie of the robe until it came loose. Bellatrix lifted her head and looked up at Hermione before parting the material, revealing her nakedness underneath.
Bellatrix’s lips danced over her stomach, each kiss feather light but enough to make Hermione’s sore muscles contract again. She stroked her fingers through Bellatrix’s hair until the woman stood and captured her lips firmly.
The clashing keys of the piano under Hermione’s thighs as she backed against it were barely noticed as Bellatrix’s fingers skated over skin, holding her waist as she mapped a path up Hermione’s throat with hot kisses and grazing teeth. Hermione shuddered under her touch, so sad yet yearning and brought her back to her lips so that she could show her just how she felt. Bellatrix parted from her gasping and slid her arm around Hermione’s waist and the other under her thigh, lifting her slight. Hermione’s was pressed against Bellatrix’s stomach, shielded only by the robe Bellatrix wore and she put her hands on the piano behind her, lifting herself up further until she was deposited on the lid.
Bellatrix’s mouth explored trails she’d already tracked across her, circling nipples she’d already hardened and sucked and bitten, until they were hard in her mouth again. Her fingers urged Hermione’s legs apart and when her mouth trailed lower, across her stomach and then her hip bone, Hermione lay back, lost in the woman touching her.
The moonlight lit her, pale light on pale skin as it became pink with blush, as her thighs were kissed and then as Bellatrix’s tongue flicked out to taste the sweetness pooling between them. Hermione arched away from the cool surface of the piano, her fingers buried in Bellatrix’s hair as she was played like an instrument. Her muscles twitched, sending her heel against the keys, the only sound to join the gasping and moaning as Bellatrix urged her closer to a crescendo.
Hermione’s hoarse scream shattered the stillness of the apartment, her back arching completely off of the piano as she tightened around Bellatrix and saw thousands of stars shimmering across her vision. For a split second, she was suspended among them, no longer tied to the world, floating amongst the stars in a moment of ecstasy and then she collapsed, quivering. Bellatrix stilled and then slowly retreated, kissing her inner thigh and stroking her hip until she stopped trembling and lay still.
“You’re like a siren,” Bellatrix murmured against her thigh, her warm breath raising goosebumps and sending a shiver across Hermione’s skin. “Bathed in moonlight, beckoning me towards certain doom, and yet, all I want is to do as you ask.”
Hermione swallowed and then slowly sat up, feeling her stomach ache in delicious complaint.
“You are the one who called me to them by singing,” she murmured, looking down at Bellatrix softly, admiring the way her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. “But if you’re powerless to resist, I won’t complain.”
Bellatrix sighed and stood up straight, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s lips that tasted of them both and which lingered longer than she had planned.
“What if, in the light of day, I’m not what you thought? What if I’m not what you want?”
“What if you are?” Hermione murmured. Bellatrix’s lips twitched in a gentle smile and she shook her head.
“Draco will have a field day.”
“Draco told me to get laid,” Hermione chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We can just tease him with that until he gets over it.”
Bellatrix chuckled and pressed another kiss to Hermione’s lips.
“Where have you been all my life?”
“Waiting,” Hermione replied cheekily, wrapping her arms around Bellatrix’s shoulders and pulling her in for another long, lingering kiss as Bellatrix pulled her from the piano and lowered her slowly to the ground. “Take me back to bed, Bellatrix.”
And she did.