Hermione lay naked on the cold stone altar, her body bound by invisible threads of magic that kept her completely still. She could feel the weight of the spell pressing down on her, a heavy, suffocating force that seemed to sink into her very bones. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, no matter how desperately she tried.
Bellatrix moved down to Hermione’s legs, her hands trailing along her thighs with an unsettling intimacy as she traced more symbols there, her grin widening as the magic flared again. The symbols, each one more intricate than the last, connected to form a complex web of magic that seemed to tighten with every chant, every whispered word.
Bellatrix’s wand hovered over her chest now, just above her heart, her eyes gleaming with a wild hunger. "This is where it all comes together," she hissed, her voice dripping with anticipation. "This is where you become ours."
Content Set to Go Live: Oct 7, 2024 on Ao3
Hermione lies bound by magic on an altar, as Bellatrix and Narcissa perform a dark ritual to reshape her mind, body, and soul into something that serves their will. As the powerful runes are carved into her skin, Hermione feels herself slipping away, becoming someone—or something—else entirely.
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Bellatrix’s laughter echoed through the room, sharp and manic, as she watched Hermione writhe beneath the weight of the spell. "Yes!" she cried, her voice filled with a twisted glee. "Feel it, little Mudblood! Feel yourself becoming something more!" Narcissa’s voice remained calm, almost detached, though her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she continued her chant, her hands moving with fluid precision as she guided the magic, shaping it, controlling it. Hermione’s vision blurred, her thoughts fracturing under the weight of the magic. She could feel herself slipping away, her mind unraveling as the ritual consumed her, pulling her deeper into its hold. She was losing herself, losing everything that made her who she was. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. The runes on her skin burned brighter, pulsing with the rhythm of the magic that now coursed through her veins. Every pulse, every flicker of light, seemed to pull her further from herself, further from the girl she had been, and closer to the thing they were turning her into.
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Bound by magic, will Hermione resist the Black sisters’ dark ritual, or will she become the obedient servant they desire?
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