The fight was over just as quick as it’d begun. The pirate scoundrels had made quick work of all the guards, and for all Rodolphus’ showboating and pageantry his swordsmanship wasn’t trained for the dirty, desperate techniques of a real foe. Bellatrix herself could have bested him- she was trained by a professional fencer for exactly these situations, after all- but that was neither here nor there, because he was the man of the house and it was his duty to protect her.
Fat lot of good that did, Bellatrix thought, as the intruder behind her tightened the ropes around her wrists. She dug her bare heels in as she was frogmarched down the hill; a fire was spreading across the way, and she had no doubt that the distraction was keeping the town’s pathetic excuse for law enforcement busy.
Rodolphus was yelling expletives next to her, to the point that a pirate decided to wrap a dirty cloth around his head and fastened it behind his teeth. Bellatrix cringed in disgust, resolving to keep her mutinous thoughts to herself. She’d bite anyone who dared put a filthy rag anywhere near her face. She nearly tripped up when the voice of her own captor chuckled in her ear, a decidedly feminine sound. The dark of midnight had hidden the shapes and faces of the assailants, but there was only one female pirate renowned in these waters. And if there was any doubt left in her mind, the sails of the Brigantine known as Orion’s Sword loomed in the distance.
Captain Hermione Granger was perhaps the only pirate with a set of morals and little greed for gold. She fancied herself as something of a Robin Hood of the seas, which explained the current hostage situation. If there was a poster boy for corruption and overindulgent decadence, it was Rodolphus. And Bellatrix, crown jewel of the Black family, wasn’t much better.
The parade of pirates towed them down the docks and then hauled them up the accommodation ladder, their sharpened and bloodied swords securing their free passage. Bellatrix watched as they tied her husband to the mast, awash with a vague sense of dread. Oh, she didn’t care what they did to the bastard, but her own sense of self-preservation was ringing like the town’s alarm bells. In fact, that probably was the town’s alarm bells.
“Neville, keep the lovely lady warm for me, would you?” Captain Granger said, and Bellatrix made a futile attempt to struggle while the hands holding her were replaced by a larger, heavier pair.
Granger strut forward, wearing her tricorn hat, mottled cloak and loose trousers as proudly as a naval officer’s uniform. Her belt clinked as her boots thumped against the deck, a pair of cutlasses and a pistol sheathed loosely around her waist. With her hands on her hips she turned on her heel, staring down Rodolphus’ impudent glare with a scowl that could curdle milk.
“Rodolphus Lestrange. How’s your brother?” she asked, her lips splitting into a cruel smirk. Her crew erupted into a cacophony of laughter, and Rodolphus shouted something that sounded like ‘Pirate scum ’ behind the rag.
“The Lestrange family is a microcosm of all the corruption in the world, and I trust that your father’s coin will be better spent in my pocket than yours,” Hermione sneered. Rodolphus growled behind his gag, and the entire crew erupted into jeers.
Bellatrix kept her head held high as Granger turned around to face her. Her snarling face contorted into a cocky grin, and she strut forward as if the ship’s deck were her stage. Keeping her face schooled in a well crafted mask of indifference, Bellatrix watched Granger with hawkish intensity. No amount of swashbuckling arrogance would daunt her; between this and the Machiavellian scheming of nobles and politicians, she’d take the pirates any day. Captain Hermione Granger, under all that dirt and sea salt, was just a woman like any other.
“Bellatrix Lestrange, eldest daughter of the Noble Black family. A pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance,” Hermione said. She mockingly took her hand in her palm and brought the back of it up to her lips, the formal gesture obviously well practiced.
“My name is Captain Granger, but please, call me Hermione.”
“I know all about you , Granger,” Bellatrix drawled, snatching her hand back.
“The famous Pirate Princess who couldn’t stand being betrothed to a Weasley, so she ran off to marry the seas instead,” she finished with a scoff.
“And can you honestly say that spending your life as an animate ornament is so fulfilling?” Hermione asked with a coy grin.
Bellatrix glared up at her, her bare feet toe to toe with thick heeled leather boots, which caused a further disparity in height that didn’t exactly lend itself to intimidation. Still wrapped up in naught but a thin nightgown, Bellatrix knew she didn’t make an imposing figure, but she’d never willingly display anything other than complete confidence.
“But what a pretty ornament you make,” Hermione continued, brushing a calloused hand against Bella’s cheek and pushing a loose curl behind her ear. Her other hand wandered down to her waist, rubbing her thumb along the curve of her hip bone.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bellatrix hissed, struggling away but finding herself firmly locked in Neville’s grasp behind her.
“Claiming my spoils, of course. Unless you’d rather join your husband,” Hermione replied, jerking her head over to Rodolphus’ form, quaking in rage.
“I can arrange it- Lord knows you’ve got blood on your hands too- but taking the Lady Lestrange the way Rodolphus takes the livelihoods of innocents is much more poetic, don’t you think?”
Bellatrix’s lips curled into a silent scowl, but she made no protest. She wasn’t about to offer herself up like some common whore , but she’d take a bed in the Captain’s Quarters before subjecting herself to the mercy of the rest of the crew, and certainly not for Rodolphus’ sake. She doubted the girl could be any worse than Rod had been on their wedding night, in any case.
“Maybe I should make him watch?” Hermione mused, giggling as he strained against his bindings, his shouts only barely muffled by the gag.
“Ugh. Man or pirate, you’re all the same,” Bellatrix scoffed. Hermione scowled, her nails digging in deeper in Bellatrix’s side.
“You’re right. It’d ruin the mood,” she sighed. “He’ll just have to use his imagination.”
With that, she bent down and hoisted Bellatrix over her shoulder, securing her hold around her legs to keep them from flailing. Bellatrix huffed and folded her arms, shifting uncomfortably as Granger carried her away to the sound of her crew’s hooting and hollering.
The Captain’s Quarters were modest, but not as squalid as Bellatrix might have expected. She’d paraded around a few docked Naval ships before, each Captain entertaining her in their luxurious parlours with shelves lined with wine and spiced rum, and she would end up drowning in their silk cushions and fur blankets. Granger’s cabin wasn’t filled with antique furniture or gilded trophies, but the bed was the obvious centrepiece, and Bellatrix could appreciate her priorities.
Hermione pushed her over towards the bed with a surprisingly lenient force, and once she had the door closed behind her she loosened her belt and laid it and its contents on the bedside table. Then off came her hat, then her coat, and then the boots.
“Just get it over with already,” Bellatrix sighed, reclining on the bed. Hermione smiled weakly, and the pity in her eyes caught her off guard.
“I know you’re probably used to disappointment, but you won’t get it from me,” she said.
Bellatrix frowned doubtfully. Leaning over, Hermione hoisted her bound arms above her head and secured the ropes around the headboard.
“That’s not too tight, is it?” Hermione asked.
“You’re currently trying me to your bed as a hostage, and you’re asking if the ropes are too tight?” Bellatrix scoffed.
“I may be a Pirate, but that doesn’t have to mean I’m inconsiderate,” Hermione replied, settling down on Bellatrix’s lap.
“I have to wonder what your idea of ‘considerate’ is, Bellatrix muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Allow me to show you,” Hermione whispered, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned down to press an open mouthed kiss on a smooth, pale throat.
Hermione found Bellatrix’s body stiff under her fingertips, and gently massaged her shoulders as she gently nibbled at the junction of her neck. Slowly Bellatrix relaxed under her ministrations, whether she was conscious of it or not. Hermione worked her way to the underside of her jaw, then to her earlobe, and Bellatrix found her breath quickening against her will. Hermione’s hand wandered south and brushed over a hardened nipple through the fabric of her nightgown, eliciting an involuntary shudder.
It was a thin, almost sheer material, and outside in the cold midnight air the gown had done very little to hide the peaking buds, which had driven Hermione to near madness. Brazenly, she wrapped the thin fabric around her fists and stretched outwards, tearing the nightgown clean in two. Exposed on the bed, Bellatrix felt her heart jump in to her throat, then sink down between her legs. Hermione’s sun kissed hands roamed the porcelain flesh underneath, skin she doubted had ever seen a day of hard labour. Bellatrix tugged down on her restraints and Hermione smiled.
“Not too tight?” she asked, pinching a stiff, pink nipple in each hand. Bellatrix looked away with a childish pout, but the bucking of her hips was the only response Hermione needed. Hiding her smirk by pressing a kiss to her chest, she nibbled down on one bud and, once satisfied with its blossoming colour, moved onto the other. The diamond encrusted gold band around Bellatrix’s finger may be more expensive than a new sloop, but Hermione thought that her own marks of possession were prettier.
She kissed a line down between the valley of her breasts, trailing down to her navel, and then lower, until she reached her destination. Cheeks flushed with the most heavenly shade of red, Bella's eyebrows knit together as her teeth fought against her bottom lip to keep her jaw from dropping in ecstasy. It was a battle she eventually lost, and a weak cry escaped her throat as Hermione swiped her clit with her tongue. Then Hermione stepped back, and Bellatrix groaned at the loss of contact.
At the end of the bed Hermione pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a toned and scarred stomach and a pair of firm, tawny breasts. Bellatrix’s eyes flickered down her form, licking her lips approvingly. This she could appreciate. Then the trousers were gone as well, and Bellatrix found herself leering up at the full figure of a pirate Captain. Raking her eyes over Hermione’s body, Bellatrix found it was little wonder the Weasley clan had nearly launched a war to acquire her hand. Only for her to run off and launch a campaign of economic redistribution around the seven seas, but everyone had their flaws.
To her dismay Hermione didn’t immediately rejoin her, but rather turned to her bedside table and busied herself with something in one of the drawers. She struggled to see what it was, but the ropes around her wrist kept her pinned down to the bed and out of her line of sight. When Hermione came back into view, she was brandishing a black phallic contraption. She took Bellatrix’s perplexed expression in stride as she fastened it around her waist. Once in place, Bella understood its exact purpose.
“Please tell me you don’t also call it Orion’s Sword,” she gagged. Hermione stalled for a second, and erupted into a fit of jovial laughter.
“Oh, God no,” she wheezed. Bellatrix rolled her eyes.
“One would almost think you’re compensating for something,” she jibed.
“Keep acting smart and I’ll have to gag you too, unless you want me to shut you up some other way,” Hermione reached over and pinched Bella’s hip.
“Could you blindfold me too? It’d save me the trouble of having to look at you.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes and offered a thin, sarcastic smile. Placing her hands on Bellatrix’s shoulders, the rope provided just enough leeway for Hermione to flip her on her stomach. She admired those smooth planes before raking her nails down the tips of her shoulder right down to her waist, leaving angry red lines in her wake. Bellatrix squirmed as the sharp stinging reached her ass, and when a harsh slap stung her backside her gasp was laced with guilty pleasure rather than the pain she expected.
A pair of hands around her hips pulled her up on her knees, but without her hands Bellatrix could only lay bent over as Hermione teased her slit with the head of the strap. It glistened in the low lamplight as she coated it with Bellatrix’s dripping wetness, circling her entrance torturously.
“Will you just get on with it,” Bellatrix hissed, arching back. Hermione swatted her rear again, careful not to allow the toy to penetrate her.
“You admit you want this, then?”
“Yes, fine, just get on with it.”
“Say it,” Hermione ordered. Bellatrix let out an aggrieved groan, earning her another smack. Another cry of frustration, another smack.
“Fuck! I want you to fuck me,” she shrieked. She was rewarded with a thrust that plunged the strap-on inside her, and she finally let out a pleasured moan. The wide shaft stretched Bellatrix’s walls as Hermione sank in deeper, slick with her arousal. Slowly at first, Hermione rocked her hips, using her grip on Bellatrix’s waist to leverage herself deeper. She thrust rhythmically, and Bellatrix arched back to meet her, her hips following the motion like rolling waves.
Although she wasn’t born with such an appendage, Hermione wielded the extension with far more skill than Rodolphus could ever hope to achieve. It was a wonder, Bellatrix considered, that she could find such bliss on her knees as she was taken by the wench of the seas herself, Hermione fucking Granger. And with her climax fast approaching, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
A staggered cry tore from her throat as her orgasm slammed against her body, and she clenched harder around the toy to draw it out as long as possible. Hermione gently thrust a few more times, and Bellatrix reeled at the overstimulation. With a final jerk she collapsed forwards onto the bed and exhaled a deep sigh. Cracking an eyelid open, she caught sight of Hermione still standing above her, steadying her breath with dubious success as she removed the strap-on.
“Fuck ,” Bellatrix sighed, and shifted onto her back with the minimal movement her bindings still offered.
“I wonder what else that dirty mouth of yours can do,” Hermione mused, resting beside Bellatrix as a lusty haze swirled in her eyes.
“Unite me and I can show you,” she replied between heavy pants.
“You think I’m going to fall for that?” Hermione teased.
“I can return the favour,” Bellatrix suggested.
“I don’t need to untie you for that,” she said, and kissed the corner of her lips before crawling up her body to the top of the bed.
Bellatrix growled when Hermione grasped a handful of dark, black curls and jerked her head back slightly. She swung her leg over to straddle Bella’s face and thrust her hips downwards, bumping her clit against her nose as she slid across her lips. Bellatrix was overcome with the smell and taste of her, and her breathing became disjointed as Hermione’s grip kept her from pulling back for air.
Hermione kept her jaw clenched shut, until a tongue darting between her folds roused a heady moan from her lips. Bellatrix dragged her tongue lazily around her entrance as Hermione rolled against her, lapping up the dripping juices that spilled into her mouth. She rocked her hips back and forth, aching to throw her head back and close her eyes but unwilling to tear away from the sight of Bellatrix buried between her thighs.
“Bella ,” she groaned, tightening her grip on the fistful of curls and pushed Bellatrix harder against her core. She continued to rut against Bella’s chin, gasping as her tongue danced underneath her. Hermione shivered when Bellatrix moaned into her, and desperately rode her face in frustration, eagerly seeking out the friction that would get her off. She leaned back and jerked her hips again, catching Bellatrix’s gaze as her eyelids fluttered open.
In that moment all time seemed to freeze, until Bellatrix wrapped her lips around her clit and lightly sucked, all while maintaining unblinking eye contact. Hermione came with a sharp cry, digging her nails into Bella’s scalp to the point of drawing blood. Bucking weakly, Hermione sighed as she came down from her ecstatic high. She slumped forwards on the headboard, and after drawing a few breaths she shifted off Bella and began to pluck at the ropes, finding the notches that would have them come loose.
“I thought you weren’t going to untie me?” Bellatrix asked curiously, licking the juices off her lips.
“You’re on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean by now, and you don’t seem to care all too much about the fate of your husband. So no, I’m not concerned that you’re going to try anything. I just wanted to watch you squirm,” Hermione teased, finally letting the rope slack. Finally freed, Bellatrix rubbed her raw wrists and sat upright. Hermione’s eyes lingered on her form as she stretched out, following the smooth lines of her back up to her extended arms. Bellatrix was surprised by the intensity in Hermione’s stare when she turned around, and could only sit and watch as she crawled closer.
Tenderly cradling Bella’s head with her palm, Hermione dipped down and pressed her lips against hers. Her lips were rough against Bellatrix’s plush, swollen ones, but Bellatrix couldn’t find it in herself to mind. Gingerly they lay down on the bed, reaching out to lower themselves without breaking contact. As tired as her jaw was, Bellatrix relished the ache as she slid her tongue into Hermione’s mouth. Bellatrix squeezed her thighs around Hermione’s waist, relishing the feeling of those muscles tensing between her legs. With a superior strength, Hermione gripped Bella’s arms and flipped them over, the pillows cushioning their rough tumble.
“Why don’t you allow me to appreciate you?” Bellatrix goaded, snaking her hands up to palm Hermione’s breasts.
“I wouldn’t be a very gracious hostess if I let you do all the work, now would I?” Hermione pointed out, but allowed Bella to explore her chest nonetheless. She hummed in approval as Bellatrix smoothed her hands over the muscles of her abdomen, but caught them in her own as they wandered further south.
She arched a single eyebrow and Bellatrix huffed in frustration. Hermione chuckled but released her hands, which instead found purchase on her shoulder as she lowered herself down. She crushed her lips against Bellatrix’s as her own hand slid down between her legs. She savoured the wet heat she found down there, rubbing softly as her fingers were coated in arousal. Bellatrix broke apart to catch the breath she so desperately desired, panting hot against Hermione’s cheek. Hermione brushed her thumb over her clit and Bellatrix let out a weak moan, digging her manicured nails into Hermione’s shoulders.
“Louder,” Hermione growled, and slid two fingers inside her. Bellatrix acquiesced.
Hermione built up her rhythm, plunging her fingers in and out as her thumb swiped at that little bundle of nerves that had Bellatrix coming undone. Her fingers curled in just the right spot, and this time Hermione could feel the spasmic pulsing of her walls around her digits. Bella’s chest shuddered as the aftershocks rippled through her body. It was a shorter but sweeter orgasm, and Bellatrix wondered if she’d ever felt so satisfied as she relaxed on the bed.
Hermione settled in behind her, wrapping her arms over her body and gently kneading her breast, and Bellatrix fought off the smile that teased her lips. When Hermione’s soft snores joined the roaring of the ocean, Bellatrix slowly reached out the belt resting on the bedside table, and removed the metal instrument as quietly as possible. Quickly checking that it still held bullets, Bellatrix shuffled the pistol down the side of the bed and out of sight.
Bellatrix awoke to the steady rocking of the seas, her bleary eyes struggling to make sense of her surroundings. Timber panelling, sparse furniture, a window that peered out over the open ocean- and the events of the previous night came flooding back into her mind. A lonely hand crept between her legs, and Bellatrix let out a raspy chuckle.
“Are you really so insatiable?” she drawled, rolling back on her shoulder to peer into Hermione’s mischievous brown eyes. A sharp knock on the cabin door interrupted them, and Hermione audibly growled in frustration.
“Captain, your prisoner has requested a parley,” a waifish voice crooned softly behind the door.
“I don’t think he’s really in the position to make such a request, but I’ll see to him anyway. Back to your maps, Luna,” Hermione replied. She sighed and shrugged at Bellatrix, getting up off the bed.
“Best get dressed, I’m afraid this ship doesn’t run itself.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to wear? You ruined my nightgown, if you remember,” Bellatrix pointed out.
“Here,” Hermione said, passing her a pair of trousers, “you’ll find they’re quite comfortable.”
Bellatrix shrugged them on, then took the blouse that was extended to her. Another advantage of these trousers, she realised, were the deep pockets. Hermione dressed quickly, strapping on her belt and pulling on her coat and hat, while Bellatrix struggled with the buttons that the maids typically fixed for her.
“Aren’t you coming? I’m deciding your husband’s fate, after all,” Hermione hung by the door.
“I’ll be a moment,” Bellatrix replied, now fiddling with her curls as she attempted to wrangle them into a a neater style, before giving up. Hermione nodded and marched ahead, leaving Bellatrix alone in the room.
The wind carried Hermione’s voice across the deck, and Bellatrix listened in as she closed the cabin door behind her.
“I think it would do you well to remember your brother’s fate,” Hermione said roughly. Rodolphus wore new bruises and slashes- nothing that would harm him permanently, but enough to make him feel very unwelcome.
“My father will have been alerted to my disappearance by now, and the entire Royal Navy is going to be out hunting for you!” He yelled, the cloth now loose around his neck.
“I’m counting on it,” Hermione purred. “I do hope he values you more than he did Rabastan…”
Bellatrix saw Rodolphus’ eyes flicker over the Captain’s shoulder to meet hers, but he was distracted when she backhanded him across the face.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Hermione spat.
Bellatrix stood behind Hermione, watching as she bloodied her fist against her husband’s nose. It was always an ugly nose.
But she couldn’t let this go on any longer. Reaching into her pocket, Bellatrix pulled out the pistol she had hidden the night before.
Hermione stiffened at the sound of a metallic click, and Rodolphus barked out a manic laugh. Slowly turning around she faced Bellatrix, standing with her arm outstretched and her own pistol in her hand. There was no emotion to be found in those black eyes, as if she had put up a complete mental wall. Bellatrix circled her like a vulture, only stopping once she stood between her and her husband. Hermione kept her gaze fixed on Bellatrix’s stare, the barrel of the pistol teasing her in her periphery. Without breaking eye contact or even blinking, Bellatrix swung her arm in an arc to the right and fired, the sharp snap of combustion drawing Hermione’s attention to the smoking tip of the gun. Like a siren call, a deep, strangled cry tempted her gaze further to watch the body of Rodolphus Lestrange crumple behind the ropes that bound him.
Bellatrix lifted the pistol up towards her lips and Hermione watched mesmerised as she blew softly.
“Well that’s great and all, but what are we going to do with the corpse?” Neville asked from aside, breaking the moment. Bellatrix raised a lazy eyebrow at him, and he just stared plainly back at her.
“I won’t be able to get any hostage money out of him now,” Hermione pouted.
“I’m sure you’ll live,” Bellatrix shrugged.
“Throw it overboard, maybe the Navy will find him after all,” Hermione turned to Neville, waving her hand nonchalantly. In the light of the morning sun, Bellatrix watched as the crew bustled around her, tying down ropes and swabbing the deck, hollering at each other and passing around food for breakfast. Hermione noticed her staring, and elbowed her in the ribs.
“Welcome aboard,” she grinned.