Day 12 - Semi-Public/Bratty Sub Bellatrix

Day 12 - Semi-Public/Bratty Sub Bellatrix

The hustle and bustle of the Ministry of Magic never ceased to amaze Hermione. As Minister, her days were filled with meetings, reports, and endless tasks, all of which she managed with her characteristic efficiency. Today, however, the pressure was different. Her eyes flicked up to the clock on her office wall, the second hand ticking away with an irritating slowness. The day had been exhausting, not because of her workload, but because of the attention.

It seemed like everyone—male and female—had decided to flirt with her today. The sideways glances, the lingering smiles, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) comments. It had always been this way, ever since she had taken on the role of Minister. People admired her for her intelligence, her power, her beauty. But today, it had been relentless.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her mind wandering to her wife. Bellatrix.

Their marriage had always been controversial. After the war, Bellatrix had been pardoned, her crimes excused under complex circumstances Hermione had argued for herself. Many people couldn't wrap their heads around it. The age gap, the past, Bellatrix's role in the war—it was enough to keep the whispers going long after the public had accepted her new life as the Minister's wife. And Bellatrix had promised—promised—to behave herself, to keep her possessive nature in check.

But Hermione had seen the looks Bellatrix had been giving her lately. The possessiveness bubbling just under the surface whenever they were out in public. Especially when people flirted with her.

Today, Bellatrix had been more on edge than usual. Hermione could feel it. She knew Bellatrix was keeping a close eye on everyone who spoke to her, watching every touch, every smile. But she had to be on her best behavior, working diligently as her secretary. It was part of the deal. No slipping back into the old ways, no losing control. Not in public.

And yet... Hermione could feel the tension building.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on her office door. Before she could respond, the door swung open, and Bellatrix strode in, her eyes dark and filled with something Hermione immediately recognized. She closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Bella," Hermione said softly, a warning in her voice. "You know you can't just barge into my office during our work hours."

Bellatrix didn't answer right away. Instead, she crossed the room in a few long strides, her gaze never leaving Hermione's. There was something almost wild in her eyes, something possessive and needy. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she watched her wife approach, that familiar tension crackling in the air between them.

"I tried," Bellatrix said, her voice low and filled with frustration as she stopped in front of Hermione's desk. "I tried to be good. I tried to let them have their little moments with you. But I can't."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned back in her chair, taking in Bellatrix's bristling energy. "Can't what?" she asked, her voice calm, even though she already knew the answer.

"Let them flirt with you like that," Bellatrix growled, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Let them look at you, touch you, as if they have a chance."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's lips. She knew how much it drove Bellatrix mad when people flirted with her, even though she would never consider another in a million years. The dark witch was it for her.

"They don't have a chance," the Minister said simply, trying to hide her smile. "You know that."

"I don't care," Bellatrix snapped, stepping closer, her voice almost trembling with frustration. She did not kill anymore. Did not maim anymore. But Merlin, was she tempted today. "I want them to know. I want them to see."

The younger witch studied her wife for a moment, her gaze traveling over the other woman's flushed face, the slight tremble in her hands. She could see how badly Bellatrix was holding herself together, how much it was costing her not to act out. The urge to remind everyone that Hermione was hers was too strong to ignore.

With a sigh, Hermione stood from her chair, walking slowly around her desk until she was standing directly in front of Bellatrix. She didn't speak, just stared into her wife's dark eyes, waiting.

"I can't stand it, Hermione," Bellatrix whispered, her voice softening, her possessiveness bleeding into desperation. "I need to—"

Before she could finish, Hermione grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. Bellatrix's breath hitched as Hermione's hands slid down her body, possessive in their own right, but it was clear who was in control. Bellatrix may have been possessive, but she was always submissive to Hermione. Especially in moments like these.

"You want to mark me, Bella?" Hermione murmured, her voice low as her fingers traced the curve of Bellatrix's hips. "Is that what this is about?"

The older witch shivered at the touch, her head nodding almost imperceptibly. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with longing. "Please, Hermione... let me."

Hermione's grip tightened on her wife's waist, pulling her even closer until their bodies were pressed together. "On your knees," she commanded softly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The eldest Black daughter dropped to her knees without hesitation, her eyes gleaming with a mix of submission and hunger as she looked up at her wife. She was eager—always eager to please Hermione, to show her devotion. Just as she once was for Voldemort. Always the servant, never the master.

Hermione's fingers tangled in the other woman's dark hair, tugging lightly as she stared down at her submissive wife. "You want to prove that I'm yours?" she whispered, her voice firm but filled with obvious affection. "Then show me."

Bellatrix let out a soft whimper as Hermione's fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her closer. She was desperate now, her need to claim Hermione, to mark her as hers, bubbling to the surface in a way that left her breathless.

"Yes, Hermione," Bellatrix whispered, her voice trembling with desire and reverence as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the shirt over Hermione's stomach. "Please... let me show you."

The Minister's breath hitched slightly as Bellatrix's lips traveled lower from her navel to the waistband of her trousers. She knew she should make her submissive wait. Bellatrix was so enjoyable when she whined and begged. She had always been a brat and always would be, but Hermione loved that about her. Today, though, the younger witch wanted her just as badly. Something about using her wife's pretty mouth while locked together in her office at the ministry, witches and wizards working just beyond the door, that made her wet. Hermione quickly undid her trousers, pushing them and her undergarments down just enough to give Bellatrix access.

The older witch's eyes, which had been smoldering before, darkened further, biting into her lip with such pressure that it almost bled. With a soft, needy whimper, Bellatrix leaned in, her mouth pressing between Hermione's legs, kissing the wet folds possessively, eagerly. Hermione let out a soft moan, her fingers tightening in Bellatrix's hair as her wife began to worship her, her lips and tongue moving with an almost frantic need. Bellatrix was always so eager when she was like this, desperate to please, desperate to show Hermione just how much she belonged to her.

"You're so eager today," Hermione murmured, her voice a mix of affection and command as she guided Bellatrix's movements with the grip in her hair. A little to the left and higher. That was the spot. "Do you really need everyone to know that I'm yours?"

The dark witch moaned against her, her hands gripping Hermione's thighs as she worked her tongue against her clit, her desperation growing with every moment. "Yes," she gasped between kisses, her voice muffled. "Please, Hermione... I need them to see. I need them to hear. I need them to know."

Hermione's fingers tightened in Bellatrix's hair, pulling her closer until it was clear by her labored breathing that it was tough to get oxygen in that position. "Then make me come," she commanded. "Make sure there's no doubt who I belong with."

Her wife wasted no time, her mouth eagerly working between the Minister's legs, lips and tongue moving with fervor, as if her entire purpose was to fulfill Hermione's every need. Each flick of her tongue on her clit, her years of devotion to Hermione making her an expert at knowing exactly how to drive her over the edge.

Hermione's breathing became heavier, each exhale shakier than the last. Her grip tightened in the dark witch's hair, tugging at the roots, keeping her in place. She didn't need to guide Bellatrix too much. The woman was an expert at what she did. "That's it, Bella," she whispered, her voice low and breathy. "Right there."

Bellatrix moaned against her, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure surging through Hermione's body. She could feel it building inside her, that familiar heat coiling low in her belly, getting stronger with every flick of Bellatrix's tongue. The knowledge that they were in her office, just behind closed doors while the Ministry bustled on, made it even more intense. At any moment, someone could walk in or knock, and the thought only spurred Hermione on, making her want to be louder.

She could feel herself getting closer, the pressure building, her legs trembling as Bellatrix continued her relentless work. Bellatrix's hands dug into her thighs, her tongue moving in deliberate circles around Hermione's swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Don't stop," Hermione gasped, her voice louder now, echoing through the office. "Don't you dare stop, Bella."

The dark witch could feel the wetness between her own legs growing uncomfortable. She ached for her wife. Ached to please her and have the favor returned. Her pace quickened as she lapped eagerly at her wife, desperate to make her come. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps between kisses, and Hermione could feel her wife's possessive desire, her need to mark Hermione in front of everyone, spilling over into her every movement. It was raw, intense, and Hermione loved it.

The younger witch arched her back, her body trembling as she neared the edge. Her free hand gripped the edge of the desk for support, her knuckles turning white as her breathing became more erratic. She could feel it now, right there, just out of reach.

And then, with one final flick of Bellatrix's tongue, Hermione cried out, her body shuddering as her orgasm ripped through her, the intensity of it making her knees weak. Her fingers tightened in the dark witch's hair, holding her in place as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her, leaving her gasping for breath.

Bellatrix didn't stop, even as Hermione's body shook, her tongue still working Hermione through her orgasm, dragging every last drop of pleasure from her trembling form. Hermione's moans filled the room, loud and clear, making sure there was no doubt in anyone's mind who she belonged to.

"That's it, love," Hermione moaned, her voice breathless but still commanding. "Let them hear. Let them all know who makes me come like this."

Bellatrix moaned against her again, the vibrations sending another shiver down Hermione's spine as the older witch continued to lick and suck, her desperation clear in every movement. She wanted everyone to know. She wanted to leave no room for doubt.

As Hermione's body began to come down from the high of her orgasm, her breaths slowly evened out, though her grip in Bellatrix's hair didn't loosen. She tugged the older witch's head back, forcing her to look up, her eyes dark and gleaming with satisfaction even with Hermione's juices coating her chin.

"You did well, Bella," Hermione murmured, her voice soft but firm. She cupped her lover's face with one hand, tilting her head up as she leaned down, her lips brushing against Bellatrix's in a brief but heated kiss. "But I'm not done with you yet."

Bellatrix's eyes widened slightly at the promise in Hermione's words, her body still trembling with anticipation. "What are you going to do?" she whispered, her voice laced with both excitement and submission.

Hermione smirked, running her thumb over Bellatrix's swollen, wet lips. "Oh, you'll see," she whispered back. "But first, I need to remind you who's in charge. After all, my bratty girl thinks she can just come in here and interrupt the Minister's work. I can't allow that."