Chapter 2

Hermione's fingers trembled on her wand, her mind a chaotic whirl of panic and desire. She couldn't let this happen. Not like this. Not with her. But every second brought her closer to the edge, closer to...

"I'll give you one last chance," Bellatrix said softly, her voice thick with dark promise. "Submit, and I'll make it easier for you. Or…"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and she felt the weight of that truth pressing down on her, heavier than the thick, oppressive scent that filled the air between them. She'd tried to deny it for years, burying the reality beneath the layers of logic, spells, and potions. Being an Omega wasn't what had nearly destroyed her during the war. It had been Bellatrix—her Alpha. The one who had pushed her to the edge, who had shattered every part of her control in that one, defining moment when her magic recognized Bellatrix as something deeper, something primal.

But she had fought it. God, she had fought it. The moment that connection sparked, the ancient, terrifying truth had crashed over her—Bellatrix Lestrange was hers.

And she had never wanted it. Never wanted the bond that had burned itself into her magic like a brand, tying her to the very person she should hate more than anything. The moment Bellatrix's Alpha presence had triggered the deep, instinctual recognition, Hermione had pushed back with everything she had. Suppressants. Distance. Control. She refused to let it claim her, refused to give in to the part of her that was meant to join with a woman who had brought so much destruction.

But now, standing in the thick of the Forbidden Forest, with Bellatrix's Alpha presence flooding the air around her, Hermione wasn't sure she could keep denying it.

"I'll give you one last chance," Bellatrix's voice echoed in her mind as if it were a distant taunt. The world felt hazy, slipping between sharp moments of clarity and overwhelming sensation. Her hand gripped her wand, trembling as her willpower started to fracture under the weight of her instincts, under the inevitable truth that had been chasing her for years.

Bellatrix stepped forward again, and Hermione could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel the magic in the air between them crackling, as if it were charged with something dark and ancient. It wasn't just physical desire; it was a pull of magic so deep, so all-encompassing that it sent a shiver through Hermione's entire body.

"This has nothing to do with submission," Bellatrix said, her voice dropping lower, her dark eyes glowing with the full force of her Alpha magic. "This is about what was always meant to be."

Hermione fought the words, fought the truth in them, but every fiber of her being ached in response. The air was thick with the weight of that ancient, unbreakable bond—her Omega instinct screaming to give in, to let go, to stop the endless battle that had raged inside her since the war. But she couldn't. Not now, not ever.

"I will never be yours," Hermione managed to grind out between clenched teeth, though her voice was frayed at the edges, betraying the war that raged inside her. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, the flush creeping up her neck, and her pulse hammering in her chest.

Bellatrix's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "You've always been mine, Granger," she whispered, stepping even closer, her presence overwhelming now, a force Hermione couldn't escape. "You've been fighting it for years, but that doesn't change what's real."

Hermione's heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts over the rush of blood in her ears. The suppressant in her system was hanging by a thread, and Bellatrix's Alpha scent was weaving itself into her, through her, pushing her closer to the edge of something she'd been terrified of for years.

Bellatrix's hand brushed Hermione's cheek, fingers ghosting over her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Hermione flinched, but there was nowhere to go. Bellatrix was everywhere, in her mind, in the air, in the deepest part of her magic.

"I wonder…" Bellatrix's voice was almost teasing now, her lips brushing Hermione's ear, the barest hint of warmth grazing her skin. "How long can you pretend, little lioness? How long before your Omega instincts tear you apart from the inside?"

Hermione wanted to scream, wanted to push her away, hex her, anything. But the wave of need that crashed over her was stronger than any hex she could have conjured. Her suppressants had reached their limit, the potion's effects slipping completely away, leaving her raw and exposed to Bellatrix's power.

"You think this is about desire?" Bellatrix breathed, her lips brushing the curve of Hermione's jaw. "This is about magic, about what we were always meant to be. Our lines, our magic—they were meant to join. You know that. You feel it."

Hermione bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying to fight the primal instincts that were roaring inside her, demanding release. She hated that Bellatrix was right. She hated that she could feel it, deep in her bones, in her magic. The bond between them, forged by something older than both of them, was undeniable. It had nothing to do with choice and everything to do with the pull of ancient magic, the joining of Alpha and Omega, powerful bloodlines meant to intertwine.

But Bellatrix was still Bellatrix.

Hermione wasn't about to let herself be claimed by the woman who had tortured her, who had taken everything from her during the war. The woman who had laughed as she brought pain and destruction into the world.

"I… I don't care," Hermione spat, her voice trembling with the effort of holding herself together, of keeping her body and mind under control when they both wanted to betray her. "I don't care what magic says, or what was 'meant to be.' I am not yours."

Bellatrix let out a low, rumbling chuckle, her hand sliding down to grip Hermione's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Oh, darling," she purred, her eyes glinting with dark amusement. "I don't need you to say it. Your body is already telling me everything I need to know."

Hermione gasped, the force of Bellatrix's magic slamming into her, the sheer power of it enough to make her knees buckle. It was as if every defense she had carefully built around herself was being stripped away, one layer at a time, leaving her raw, vulnerable, and exposed.

Bellatrix's fingers trailed down Hermione's neck, the touch sending a shiver through her entire body. "You can fight me all you want, Granger," she whispered, her voice dark and thick with promise. "But you can't fight what you are."

Hermione tried to push her away, to muster the strength to cast a spell, to do something, but Bellatrix's presence was everywhere, pressing in on her like a suffocating fog. The air was thick with the scent of Alpha magic, the primal, ancient energy that called to her, beckoning her closer, pulling her deeper into the inevitable.

Bellatrix's fingers dug into Hermione's chin, the grip sharp enough to bruise. For a split second, her dark eyes glimmered with pure, unadulterated malice, the dangerous thrill of control radiating off her in waves. Hermione could feel her heart slamming against her ribs, but she refused to flinch, refused to let Bellatrix see the fear twisting beneath her skin.

The roughness came without warning—Bellatrix's hand moving like lightning as she grabbed the front of Hermione's shirt and yanked hard, tearing the fabric down the middle with a vicious rip. The cool night air hit Hermione's exposed skin, making her gasp as Bellatrix's hand slid roughly across her collarbone, her nails leaving faint red marks in their wake.

"Such a disappointment," Bellatrix hissed, her voice low and mocking, though it was laced with dark humor. "I was hoping you'd put up more of a fight. Run, maybe. It would've been more fun that way."

Hermione's body jerked back, but Bellatrix was there, pinning her against a tree with a brutal force that made her breath catch. Her wrists were trapped, her wand slipping from her grasp and falling uselessly to the forest floor. Bellatrix leaned in close, her lips brushing Hermione's ear as she whispered, "I always did enjoy a good chase."

Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps, her mind racing to find a way out, any way out. She couldn't afford to lose control now, couldn't let her instincts—her Omega instincts—overpower her. But the closeness of Bellatrix's body, the raw Alpha energy radiating off her, was threatening to tear through every defense she had left.

"You were always going to end up here, Granger," Bellatrix growled, her voice a dangerous purr as she trailed a hand down Hermione's side, fingers pressing hard against her ribs. "From the moment I realized what you were… what we both are. You've been denying it, hiding behind your potions and your pride, but you can't run from me."

With a swift, vicious movement, Bellatrix's hand tore away the rest of Hermione's shirt, leaving her chest exposed to the night air. Hermione gasped again, heat flooding her face as she fought to keep her composure, her mind still desperately clinging to logic and reason.

Bellatrix's hands roamed over her skin, rough and demanding, her grip bruising as she traced the lines of Hermione's ribs, her nails scraping harshly against her flesh. The touch was forceful, controlling, but then, without warning, it shifted—softening for just a moment, almost tender as Bellatrix's fingers brushed lightly against Hermione's throat.

The sudden gentleness caught Hermione off guard, her breath hitching in her throat as Bellatrix's touch became something different. But just as quickly, the roughness returned—Bellatrix's grip tightening around her throat, her dark eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of pleasure.

"Does it scare you?" Bellatrix whispered, her voice dripping with malice as she leaned in, her breath hot against Hermione's neck. "Knowing that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to escape me?"

Hermione clenched her jaw, forcing the words past her lips. "I'm not afraid of you."

Bellatrix chuckled, low and menacing. "Oh, but you should be."

Her hand shot up, grabbing a fistful of Hermione's hair and pulling her head back with a sharp, painful tug. Hermione gasped, the sudden sting of pain sending a jolt through her body, but she refused to cry out, refused to give Bellatrix the satisfaction.

Bellatrix's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You can pretend all you want, darling," she purred, her grip on Hermione's hair tightening as she pulled her head back further, exposing the line of her throat. "But your body knows the truth, even if you don't want to admit it."

Hermione's pulse raced, her skin burning under the intensity of Bellatrix's gaze. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, a deep, primal need that she had spent years fighting against. It wasn't just desire—it was something older, something tied to the magic that pulsed between them, the ancient bond that had been forged the moment Hermione's Omega nature had recognized Bellatrix as her Alpha.

Bellatrix leaned in, her lips ghosting over the curve of Hermione's throat, sending a shiver down her spine. "So vulnerable," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with dark promise. "So mine."

The tenderness in her touch vanished as Bellatrix's nails raked down Hermione's back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Hermione hissed in pain, but it was swallowed by the overwhelming presence of Bellatrix—her scent, her heat, her magic, all coiling around Hermione like a suffocating fog.

Bellatrix's fingers hooked into the waistband of Hermione's trousers, yanking them down with a rough, brutal motion, the fabric tearing slightly as it gave way to her force. The cold air bit at Hermione's exposed skin, but she barely registered it—her mind was a blur, her senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations and emotions crashing through her.

This work is in large part thanks to a writing group I am part of that keeps me to a calendar of posting and betas my work. Please feel free to check out their website and learn more about them. I post chapters a day early there (also have six chapters written there) - https://fictioneers.thinkific.com/pages/blog

Otherwise updated weekly here.

Writing 31 days of kinktober for Bellatrix/Hermione - let me know if you have any prompts/kinks you want to see.

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Bellatrix's grip on her hips tightened even more, pulling Hermione back onto her with every thrust, deeper, harder. "Don't you dare hold back," Bellatrix snarled, her voice thick with dark command. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound, every moan. You're mine, muddy, and you're going to give everything to your Alpha."

Hermione's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she fought to keep her composure, her mind still clinging to the hatred she felt for Bellatrix, for what she represented, for the pain and destruction she had caused. But her body—her Omega—was betraying her at every turn.

A low moan escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to suppress it, and she hated herself for it. But Bellatrix's laugh was soft and full of satisfaction, a sound that made Hermione's skin crawl and burn at the same time.

"That's it," Bellatrix purred, her voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "Let go, little lioness. Let go and give in."