The warm presence of Bellatrix’s palm still splayed against her stomach was a reassuring comfort. Sharpened claws dug into her skin to toy with scratches and let red lines crawl outwards from her navel. The older woman’s black eyes were tempting something within the pit of Hermione’s core, a need arising as she looked upwards from her position and nuzzled a cheek against the softness of Hermione’s thigh.