A/N: Hullo :) if you're asking me the plot for this one, then... Plot? What plot? This is Bellamione smut, people. Plain and simple. I cant give you better warning than that. So kids, if you're reading this, then dont go as far as this author's note okay?

I want to give so much love to imperfectionisunderrated who prompted this and even beta for me *hugs* thanks a bunch, dearie!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I just borrow them for a quickie.

Fasten your seat belt and hopefully you'll enjoy this ride ^^

It was 17 years ago when the Dark Lord won the Wizarding War.

It took him 3 years to fully destroy the Order of the Phoenix and imprison Dumbledore, opting to keep the old wizard alive as a symbol of his ultimate conquest.

His ambition, however, didn't stop there. He led his dark army in a campaign of conquest and terror. After conquering the entire magical community with only a few token of resistance, he then moved to conquer the muggle world as well. All united under his rule.

The Dark Lord held his empire in a painful grip. The pure bloods rose to power and the half bloods became second class citizen, the blood traitors and muggles who weren't born with magic became their slaves and the muggles who dared to be born with magic, well… they never got the chance to practice it.

Bellatrix Lestrange is standing in front of Lord Yaxley's luscious establishment, eyeing the manor with undisguised contempt.

After the war ended and the Dark Lord's reign was established, the world had turned into a pure blood playground, and that's what Yaxley's establishment was for. What the brothel was for. Another playground where half blood wasn't even allowed in and the muggles were the plaything, bound to serve.

The dark witch knew all about the establishment. She knew that Yaxley had the support of the Dark Lord because he always gave his best slaves for their King, even though he eventually lost them after the Dark Lord was finished. She knew because her husband frequents this establishment.

All heads turn when she walks through the door, but she ignores them, her onyx eyes idly scan the room for one particular figure. She has to admit that Yaxley has a sense to maintain a level of elegance. Up-holstered wall, thick Persian carpet, scented room with chandelier sparkling above her, it was all very rich, no wonder the pure bloods prefer to spend time here rather than anywhere else.

One slim eyebrow rises when she sees the look of horror cross over Yaxley's face when their eyes locked and the white haired man rushes over to greet her.

"Lady Lestrange, how lovely to see you here." A nervous smile graces his face as he takes her hand into his and kisses it, "Bellatrix, please… I don't want any trouble. The last time you were here, you killed one of my best slaves." He whispers vehemently, his hand still clasping hers in his.

"Ah yes, I was meant to blast my husband's penis off, unfortunately your slave's head was very near to it. My apologies for my poor aim." She calmly removes her hand from his grasp and looks around.

"Where is my dear husband, really? Already retired to his room so early?" her dark eyes prod his, challenging him to deny the truth.

"Now, now, I'm sure we can settle this matter privately. I…"

She raises her hand to stop his speech, "I'm here as a patron."

"No need to….I… What?"

Bellatrix snorts at his perplexed look and repeats her words, "I said, I'm here as a patron tonight."

Yes. After years of enduring humiliation of whispered gossips about her husband's fondness to frequent brothels and the implication that he cannot find any satisfaction at home, tonight was the last straw. She could endure all of the gossips. It is the truth after all. As if she would let Rodolphus anywhere near her after all of the whores that he fucked. She already passed any indignation of killing off his whores, after all they were mere slaves for his filthy sex crave. It was simply beneath her to display any petty jealousy.

It was one thing to brush off such talks, but to have Rabastan slip into her bed chamber and for him to have the audacity to even suggest that he should warm her bed since her darling husband refused to do so was the final straw. The nerve of that little sniveling bastard. She smiles as she recalls the state that she left him in. Writhing in pain on her floor.

No. Tonight, tonight shall be different.

Yaxley watches her with bemused albeit confused expression before nodding his head in approval, "Of course, I will send you my very best slave. Please, my Lady, Norbert will show you the way to your chamber."

She nods, a small motion of her head before she follows the bowing young wizard to the deeper part of the manor.

###

To say the room was beautiful would be an understatement. Brocade walls, fire place burning steadily, filling the room with warmth. She breathes in deeply the aroma of scented candle and takes off her gloves before her eyes land on the four poster bed with plump pillows on Egyptian cotton sheets and she swallows.

What was she thinking?

Bellatrix shakes her head slowly. She will go through with it even if it's just to prove a point. Let her husband have his fun, she would have hers.

A soft knock distracts her from her thoughts and she calmly answers, "Come in."

The large oak door opens to reveal a bejeweled dress witch with a smirk on her face. She curtsies before entering the room followed by a young girl dressed in a silk emerald robe.

Bellatrix's eyebrows rise. Good God, how old is she?

"Good evening, my lady. Lord Yaxley told me to send you his best slave for your entertainment tonight. I hope you will be pleased."

Bellatrix dismisses her with a wave of her hand and the witch curtsies once more before leaving her with the girl who is already kneeling on the floor before her.

The girl has yet to look up, but somehow Bellatrix knows that Yaxley has been true to his word to send up his very best.

Long wavy dark honey locks cascade down and around the girl's shoulders to her mid-back. From where she stands, the witch could smell the rose oil that was applied to her young body. The silk robe is tight enough that she can see the silhouette of the body beneath it. Guess she's not as young as Bellatrix's predicted before if the curves that she is seeing are any indication.

"Look at me."

The girl looks up shyly and Bellatrix swallows. Hard.

Her face is exquisite. The almond shaped eyes are the preamble to the straight nose and full rose colored lips. Long loose ringlets frame her oval face down to long elegant neck. Her skin shines against the warm glow of the fire, like she is made from the finest ivory marble while the line of her body forms a perfectly elegant curve. However, it is her eyes that Bellatrix keeps coming back to. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, are bright. Glittered with intelligence that is rare amongst broken slaves.

"Will my Lady desire a bath?"

Her soft voice filters Bellatrix's suddenly fuzzy brain and the older woman can simply nod.

A soft 'pop' can be heard from beside the fireplace and what once was an empty space, is now occupied with a sunken marble tub. Steam raises from the water and jasmine scent reaches her nostrils, beckoning her to merge deep into the warm water.

"If it pleases you, may I disrobe you, my Lady?"

Bellatrix nods once more and watches as the young girl rises from her kneeling position to stand before her. Her eyes still held down cast, she murmurs a soft apology as her nimble fingers reach toward the laces and nimbly unlace Bellatrix's corset. Freeing her from the restricting material before letting it fall to the ground, revealing her body to the slave.

She works on the skirt as quickly as the corset before kneeling once more beside the tub, "Please my Lady, before the water turns cold."

Bellatrix sighs as the jasmine scented water rises to the surface in billows around her frame and she merges deeper into the tub. The warm water already does wonders to her tired body. Soft hands touch her shoulders and Bellatrix tenses.

"May I bathe you, my Lady?"

Bellatrix nods and tries to relax, letting the girl's hand rub jasmine scented oil on her shoulders before kneading them with firm hands, forcing a groan to escape from her lips.

"Are you a mudblood, whore?"

Bellatrix knew that Yaxley didn't just procure muggles as his slaves. Sometimes, the greedy bastard also took on an impoverished half blood as his merchandise and then used them as the entertainment for the pure bloods that were too proud to bed muggles. She wonders whether she's considered amongst such category.

"Yes, my Lady." is the soft spoken answer and Bellatrix frowns. She wonders what makes Yaxley think that she would be amendable to bed a muggle? Did he think that she would have the same proclivities as her husband who enjoyed torturing his plaything and his bordering sadistic fucking? Bellatrix shudders and curbs her train of thoughts, focusing instead on the firm hands that now work on the muscle of her back.

"Mmmmm…" Bellatrix moans audibly as the sponge plays on her skin, cleansing the excess of bath oil from her body. She sucks in a breath when she feels fingers brush on the underside of her breast. She grasps the offending fingers in a painful grip and growls, "Did I give you permission to touch me there, mudblood?"

The girl winces in pain, "Forgive me, my lady… I was just…"

Her grip tightens, "How old are you?"

She doesn't share her husband's tendency to bed youngsters either.

"Please my lady.. I… I turned 19 just two months ago. Please…."

Bellatrix regards her silently before she rises from the tub, letting droplets of water glisten on her body as she stands there in all of her glory. She steps down from the tub, silently drying herself off with magic as she walks towards the bed and reclines on it.

"What's your name?"

She's not sure why she asked, but tonight she's unsure about everything.

"Hermione, my Lady. Hermione Granger."

Her gaze makes a leisurely sweep of the girl's body. She's not sure why Yaxley sent her a girl, she knows that he caters to pure blood witches as well and provides them with stud service, why a girl for her?

"Disrobe for me."

Hermione's hand calmly tugs on the ties around her waist. Bellatrix notes that she doesn't even hesitate, so she pleasured women before? Her dark eyes watch on with appreciation as the silk kimono slides off the slave's shoulders and drops to the ground in a pool around her feet. She takes in the smooth long legs and her eyebrows rise with approval when she sees that the apex of her thighs is bare. The slave has small hips, not surprising, considering she's barely out of her teens. She also has a tiny waist, smooth lean stomach that leads to high pert breasts with pink colored nipples, smaller than her own but not too small. What would those breasts feels like against her own?

"Why did Yaxley send you to me?"

Hermione shakes her head softly. She knows why her master sent her here, because she's the best in terms of pleasing women, but the beautiful lady in front of her doesn't know that. She doesn't know that she hates pleasing wizards who only wish to hurt her before finally taking their pleasure from her. She doesn't know that Hermione worked hard to master the art of pleasuring women to ensure that the witches talk among themselves about her service. Securing the patron of customers is one of the many ways for a slave to survive and she did it.

A prickle of electricity seems to burst in her brain, prodding and searching before the intrusion ends with a soft command.

"Pleasure me then, slave. Show me why you are deemed as the best."

Finally, the part where she knows exactly what to do.

Hermione walks gingerly towards the bed, straddling one of the dark witch's thighs with her own. She wonders briefly why a woman as magnificent as this would need the service of a whore, but it is not her place to ask. She keeps her expression neutral, innocently leaning in and taking an earlobe into her mouth, nibbling at it slowly before trailing soft kisses down the bare neck.

A throaty sound leaves the older woman's lips and Hermione smiles. Her hand trails down the length of the witch's body, marveling at the softness of the skin beneath her fingertips, warm and slightly damp from the bath and naturally silky. She revels at the slight quivering she induces from her caress.

She feels the witch's pulse leap as her hand explores higher, cupping the full breast with the palm of her hand, massaging it slowly, in sync with the movement of her lips on the older woman's neck. Her fingertip teases the woman's areola, careful not to touch the already erect nipple. She nips at the woman's collarbone as she brushes the hard tips of Bellatrix's nipples with her thumb, causing the older woman to arc into her touch, demanding more contact.

She flicks a nipple before tugging and rolling it with her fingers while her mouth makes its way downward to the woman's right breast when the witch makes a noise.

"Am I displeasing you, my Lady?" Hermione stops, her eyes searching for any sign of discomfort and what she finds floors her.

The dark eyes that hold hers are dark with hazy lust and an answering pull of her lower gut takes her by surprise, even more so when she feels moisture begin to gather on her core.

"Stop teasing."

Hermione bites her lips when she hears the husky timbre of the woman's voice. A shudder of desire runs through her and the urge to touch the woman becomes overwhelming. She takes one nipple into the warmth of her mouth, suckling gently before grazing the tip of it with her teeth and soothes it with her wet tongue.

Bellatrix's hips jerk at the pleasure and she wants the girl's talented mouth elsewhere, everywhere. She pushes her hips upward, seeking more friction to lessen the edge of her need and give hint to the girl to move lower, much lower.

She spreads her legs apart when the girl stops teasing her breast and drops tiny kisses onto her stomach. The girl's hair tickles her already sensitive chest and abdomen as she goes down.

Bellatrix groans when a soft warm tongue separates her wet folds and dips deep into her opening, before moving in a slow circle, teasingly drawing out another gush of wetness. She feels the tip of the tongue leaving a trail along her labia, slowly moving up before making another journey down, never touching the small bundle of nerves that's already swollen, ready to be touched.

A light flick of a tongue against her already sensitive clit causes the dark witch to gasp and then groan in frustration when the girl drops her tongue back to the bottom of her slit and retraces her path, her touch changing from soft to firm as she works her tongue over and over through Bellatrix's folds.

Bellatrix shifts on the bed, grabbing a handful of sheet into her clenched fist, wrinkling the material under her sweaty palm. She spreads her legs wider to give the girl better access. A fine sheen of sweat starts to cover her body and the musky odor of sex permeates the air, along with soft grunts of pleasure.

The probing muscle circles her swollen clit before full lips close around it and the tip of a tongue flicks slowly back and forth over the hardened nub, sending jolts of electricity through her taut body. Bellatrix groans inaudibly, releasing the sheets from her hand and reaches out to tangle itself into the girl's hair. Her grip sending a silent command for the slave to lick harder as she can feel the impending climax deep inside of her.

She digs her heels into the mattress as her body arcs into the mouth that's still firmly attached to her heated center and she moans as the muscles in her body contracts. She moves her hips wantonly, desperate to find sweet release. Her knuckles turn white as the slave suckles her clit, her lips parted as waves of pleasure run through her body and she groans loudly as the pleasure rises and explodes, consuming her in a blinding orgasm.

Hermione's tongue continues to lap at her, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible and although her body is already spent with release, she can feel another orgasm building.

Hermione's hand deftly slides between Bellatrix's legs. Her middle finger easily slides into the slick core as she strokes. Bellatrix squirms, her head turns to the side to muffle her moan against the sheets as her over stimulated body begins to respond. Hermione slides in another finger, thrusting and curling her fingers to stroke deeper and makes Bellatrix's body tremble and her head spinning.

Bellatrix whimpers as the muscle of her core clench around the fingers, sounds of passion escapes her throat with every breath. She writhes with every plunge of Hermione's fingers into her, she can't find the words to describe the intense feeling burning at the pit of her stomach.

The stroke gets bolder, faster and harder as Hermione fucks her deeper, moving almost roughly against the spot deep inside of her that Hermione seems to be able to find with ease. Her body writhes uncontrollably, grinding against the fingers deep inside of her. Her cries of pleasure echo through the room when Hermione takes a hard nipple between her lips, suckling it with her tongue before closing her teeth on it.

Hermione pushes down hard with her hips, using her own thigh to push herself deeper inside the older woman, her fingertips pressing against the slick spot that makes Bellatrix tremble violently, then a thumb circles her clit and strokes it rapidly, once, twice and all too soon Bellatrix screams.

###

Bellatrix has no idea how much time has passed when she finds herself flat on her back, breathing hard against the waves of pleasure that engulf her.

Unbelivable.

Feeling sated as she's never been before, she meets the smoldering dark eyes of the slave. Propped up at her side and looking down at the beautiful girl beside her, Bellatrix traces her hand lazily over the smooth skin, enjoying the sensation, when her touch meets the criss cross scars that run from Hermione's hip to her back.

"Who whipped you?"

"My master… He feels the need to remind me of my place, sometimes my tongue is quicker than my brain."

Another weird probing sensation fills Hermione's mind and she lets Bellatrix in, welcoming her to see the distant memory in the recess of her mind.

Bellatrix regards the young woman with new appreciation, "You never gave in. They could beat you, but they could never break you." She moves to straddle the young woman then, their eyes never leaving each other.

"Hmmm…. I like you under me, I like it very much." She moves her hands down the quivering lean stomach to the juncture of her thighs and cups Hermione's center before slipping a finger inside of her, purring when her finger encounters the slickness of arousal.

"Lady… I…" Hermione squirms uncomfortably, unsure what to make of the situation. All of her previous patrons never gave her another time of their day after they finished with her, "My Lady, please… I never… normally the others…"

"Hush, pet. I'm not your normal patron." Bellatrix says as she slides another finger deep into her, groaning when she feels Hermione's core clenched around her fingers and an incoherent sound escapes her lips. She thrusts again and again until a plea reaches her ear.

"Like it? Please what?" asks Bellatrix with a smirk, her heart racing in pleasure and excitement. She never knew that pleasing a woman could be this exhilarating and Bellatrix forgets everything, focusing only on these exquisite moments.

The way Hermione groans when she strokes her clit teasingly, the way she shoves her hips up with reckless abandon when Bellatrix plunges another finger into her, the way the stain of flush peppers her chest as she writhes under Bellatrix's hand.

Their eyes lock once more before Bellatrix leans in and kisses her for the first time of the many they will share that night, sealing the nameless, unknown bond passing between them through the touch of lips against lips, tongue against tongue and Bellatrix is there, her arms around the young woman when Hermione becomes undone.

###

It is already noon when Hermione finally wakes. She blinks sleepily as she waits for consciousness to come to her fully. She looks all over the room and finds that she is alone. The Lady is already gone. She blinks again, noticing that the heavy curtain over the window is only partially open, shielding the room from the bright lights of the day. She's certain that the house elves would open the curtain fully, unless… unless someone forbade them to.

To let me sleep in? She wonders.

Rising from the bed, she walks across the room to gather her discarded robe and slips it on. She looks back toward the interior of the room and sees only traces of the passionate night remain. A vague emptiness sweeps over her and she curbs it, there's no use in feeling anything, not when you're only a slave. Something on the table catches her eyes, something that was not there before.

Walking to the small table, Hermione sees a parchment and resting on top of it is a small stiletto with a crest on its handle. Moving the weapon aside, she picks up the note. Two parchments with neat writing greet her eyes.

Give the other note to Yaxley and keep the weapon. Don't let anyone touch you without your permission anymore.

Confusion engulfs her as her trembling fingers move to cast the parchment aside and read the other one.

I, Bellatrix Black, shall be the patron of this slave and no other.

A curving signature beneath the sentence glows and Hermione traces the signature reverently. Her fingers tingle when she feels the hum of magic from the signature under her fingertips.

Bellatrix Black

She now has a name to attach to the beautiful woman that stirs emotions inside of her that she doesn't particularly want to understand, for she is a muggle only meant to be a slave. A muggle that would be killed if they knew her secret.

Her gaze moves toward the thin stiletto and straps it on her thigh, murmuring a silent disillusion charm to hide it from any prying eyes.

She rolls both parchments and tucks them inside her robe, keeping them close to her broken heart.

No. No one can know….

A/N: So dearies, do you like it? hate it? scratching your eyes out and want to bleach your brain because of it? then drop me a line or two and tell me what you think. Reviews are love ^^