FicWad

Chapter 3: Narcissa

The morning dawned bright and early, but the two lovers slept in till noon, still entwined in a passionate embrace. They were awoken by a house-elf popping into the room and gingerly shaking them awake.

Scowling, Harry swung his foot out, kicking the filthy creature in the head and sending it sailing across the room. The pitiful wails of the creature as it impacted against the wall awoke Bellatrix, who mumbled something, and slowly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Coming to, she saw Harry lying next to her, and smirked. The fact that the happenings of the previous night were far from a dream was good news to her...her husband and his worthless brother were dead.

Harry shot one last scowl at the house elf before he got out of bed. "Tell your master that we shall meet him for lunch as soon as possible." The house-elf, with a large bruise on the side of its face, bowed deeply and scurried away.

Bella laughed, and turned to Harry, whose lip was curled into a sneer as he stared at the spot that the house-elf had been standing.

"Filthy, disgusting creatures they are," he muttered, reaching for his robe. An odd buzzing was ringing in the back of his head, and it felt like he was supposed to know something, but didn't. It wasn't irritating, but it got slightly distracting. Perhaps, he mused, a headache potion was in order...this was no side effect of the bonding.

She eased herself out of bed, and sidled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaning her head on his shoulder. For the first time, he realized that she was quite tall, being a bare three inches shorter than he was. Her 5'10 made her look commanding and powerful, and increased the lovely proportions of her body to perfection.

Lips pressed against his shoulder blade, she asked "A shower?" He nodded, and took her hand as he led them over to the bathroom. A slight exhaustion that would surely be compensated for by a large lunch still lingered, for after all, the bonding was a trying experience on both the demon and his alpha.

As he washed her hair, fingers gently running through her dark tresses, he pondered the topic of his mother. She was a succubus, as her letter had said, but yet she had limited herself to one mate. She had not elaborated, but Harry knew she was truthful...she had, after all, signed the letter in blood with a magical oath. Perhaps, he thought, the females of his species could only have a single mate...demons, of course, were a vastly patriarchal society. Although it was hypocritical of him to think thusly, he felt a certain relief that his mother had not been as loose as he would be; that she had not mated with many men. Considering the men of her generation, he could easily think that it was not out of choice that she had done that. Hers was the generation full of highly irritating, undesirable males like Lupin, Snape and Longbottom. Arrogance aside, his father was easily the most desirable male of the generation, with Sirius coming in a not-so-close second. Pictures of his father had cleanly shown that he was a very handsome man, the only negative influence on his looks coming from the chunky glasses he wore. Although she went under the guise of a muggleborn, she felt true contempt for those of the muggle ilk...her letter had quite descriptively stated that the muggles were filthy, and that he should never even dream of copulating with one of such filthy lineage and blood.

Bellatrix felt the water wash the shampoo out of her hair completely, and turned in his arms, burying her head into his neck and interrupting his train of thought. Steam rolled around them in puffs, the hot water feeling relaxing and invigorating at the same time as it cascaded down their bodies. Pulling herself flush against his body, she murmured "Why don't you hate me, Master? I killed your godfather."

He laughed harshly, replying "I couldn't care less, Bellatrix. You see, at first I was rather pissed off. Then, I weighed my desire for you against taking revenge on you for Sirius, and I'm afraid that there was no competition whatsoever. I only talked to him a few times...and he never really struck me as a decent sort. He had a really filthy mind. You, on the other hand, I wanted more than anything else."

She shivered as his words struck her, and pulled herself against him even harder. "Thank you, Master," she murmured, dropping to her knees in front of him. He was about to tell her to stand again, but she didn't take him into her mouth like he had thought. Instead, she turned her head to the side, and rested her cheek against his crotch, wrapping her arms around his thighs to hug his legs tightly. Water fell off his body onto hers, but she paid it no heed, simply nuzzling his member with her cheek and humming contentedly.

"Bellatrix," he growled, roughly grabbing a fistful of her hair, "cease your stupid behavior immediately! You are no house-elf, so do not act like one of those disgusting things."

Chastised, she quickly clambered to her feet, and stood demurely in front of him, unsure of what to do next. Irritated, he turned off the flow of water from the shower, and took her hand. Without bothering to dry them, he pulled her into the room and threw her on the bed face down. Her ass, rounded and fleshy, rested on the edge of the bed, her knees on the ground. Angry, he mounted her from behind, his flaccid cock pressed between the cheeks of her ass. He bit down hard on her neck, holding her arms outstretched against the bed, and resting his full weight on her. She moaned in pain, but felt herself get wet nonetheless.

He gyrated his hips slightly, pressing his cock against her beautiful posterior, and using it to excite himself. A few minutes of fondling her body with light caresses and hard pinches made him rock hard, straining against her nether hole with force. Pursing his lips, he squeezed out a few drops of spit, hoping it would lubricate her enough for the passage to be easier. He remembered seeing the same thing in one of Dudley's movies once.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out as well as he had expected, for she screamed in pain as he thrust the first inch of his cock inside her. Alarmed, he stopped all movement, and grabbed the wand from the bedside table. Quickly, he cast a healing charm, and was satisfied as her whimpers turned into even breath. Then, he cast the same charm that he had cast on Rudolphus, widening her hole ever so slightly and lubricating her.

Met with some resistance, which seemed insignificant to the incredible tightness that he had experienced in the first thrust, he slid in. A few seconds of warring with her involuntary muscle contractions later, he bottomed out inside her, having pressed in as far as he could reach. Her fists had tightly bunched up the sheets on the bed, and she was moaning into the bed. He felt a slick sensation enveloping his balls, and reached down to find that her pussy was incredibly wet, leaking droplets of fluid onto his sac. He bent over again, resting his chest against her back, admiring the feel of the contours of her body against his.

A twinge of guilt rang within him as he kissed her shoulder, whispering an apology for the pain. Her response was to buck her hips against his, proving to him that he was wrong...there was space for him to move in further. His hands found her hips as he raised his body once more, and began rocking against her. With each thrust, he could feel her becoming warmer and more energized, as she began reciprocating his movements by slamming herself back onto him. He gritted his teeth, his moan coming out as a hiss as he felt his orgasm approaching.

Through the haze of pleasure enveloping his mind, he felt it dawn on him that she certainly would not appreciate him coming inside her, for the sensation of leaking fluids would irritate her all day. He felt his sac constrict, and pressing a kiss to her lower back, pulled fully out of her, and exploded upon her back. His cock jumped again and again as he felt the semen jerk out of him, splashing against her back. When, at last, he was dry, he waved the wand, cleaning his come off her back. He fell to his knees, hands still gripping her hips. Her ass was raw and red from the pounding he had given it, the flesh hot to the touch as blood pumped in her veins. His fingers ghosted over the flesh of her ass cheeks, caressing it delicately. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the small of her back, the sharp contour of her body looking beautiful under the sunny light from the windows. His hand found the ends of her hair, gently stroking the silky strands in an admiring fashion. He kissed each cheek of her ass, the heat throbbing under his lips.

Gingerly, she rolled over, exposing the wondrous sight that was her body. Drops of water, remnants from their shower, glistened on her skin, the slight tan making her look delicious. Her skin was flawless; entirely unblemished by even scars or moles. Her nipples were puckered and tight, areoles crinkled in her state of pleasure. Her body was contorted seductively, hanging off the bed slightly to expose the well formed muscles of her stomach. Her hips were twisted slightly, her left leg thrown over her right.

He bent down and caressed her cheek, noting the look of longing and desperation in her eyes. Her orgasm had not struck her, but she was poised on the brink, and desperately wanted the relief that only he could offer her. She whimpered, leaning into the caress, and pleaded "Master, please, help me!"

He lifted her bodily and moved her further onto the bed, clambering on top and settling himself between her legs. His head was poised above her chest, and he smirked at her desperation, replying "Slowly, Bella. Have patience..."

She whimpered again, a piteous sound, and reached up to touch his body, hands roaming everywhere. Ignoring her desperation, he bent down. Curiously, he studied her breasts, touching them ever so gently. They were large, the flesh creamy and smooth in texture, and fit the grip of his hand quite well. The nipples were neither small nor large, being rather perfect in the manner in which they tautly stood erect, her arousal more than evident in the way she mashed her breast against his hand, yearning for him to complete her.

Gently, he tugged on a strand of her hair with another hand, playfully admonishing her, saying "Patience, Bella. Trust in me." She fell silent, but the look of desperation never left her eyes. He could sympathize with her; it would he just as hard for him if she was to work him almost to climax, but then stop, and forbid him from following through.

He placed a kiss on her nipple, licking it, but then left in entirely alone as he ventured to other, unexplored parts of her chest. He sucked on the creamy skin that lay above her breast, and trailed his tongue to the side near her arm. Surprisingly, she found this even more pleasurable than when he touched her nipple, as she mewled desperately, thrashing under his body rigidly. Still, he continued, paying her no mind. He pressed kisses to the underside of her breasts, massaging them with a feather-light grip. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he circled his tongue around it slowly, tugging at it slightly.

She groaned, fingers laced into his hair tightly. It took minutes before he had moved from his worship of her chest, using the lightest caresses and tentative licks and kisses to drive her into a frenzy. She was mumbling incoherently, clutching at him tight enough for her nails to pierce his skin. He paid no heed to the crescent-shaped cuts that marred his back, and continued to take his time.

She was a vision of beauty, utterly perfect in all ways. Lightly grasping her breasts in his hands, he slid down her body to find her abdomen. His nose nuzzled her body as he trailed his tongue in random directions, licking and kissing her body. She tasted perfect, for there was no other way to describe it. He was able to derive his own pleasure from his actions, finding the twisting of her muscles as she writhed under the onslaught of his tongue to be incredibly erotic.

When he finally found her pussy, she was so wet that she was dripping. He placed a kiss on the trimmed triangle of hair above her center, and lightly trailed a tongue down her slit. She tasted musky, the scent nearly overpowering his senses in such close quarters. She let out a scream as his tongue made first contact, accidentally crushing her sopping pussy against his lips. He laughed, and gently lifted her legs, placing them on his shoulders. His tongue gave another slow stroke, lapping up her juices, and flicking out at her clitoris. She bunched his hair in a fist, grabbing it tightly as he began attacking her cunt, exploring her thoroughly.

She whimpered and sobbed unrestrainedly, unable to hit that crucial point that would send her over the edge. Already, she had been battling to orgasm for over twenty minutes, feeling an odd love/hate relationship for the pleasure she felt. While on one hand the pleasure was incredible, and the sensation of his mouth working his magic on her absolutely intoxicating, on the other hand, it was almost cruel how he forbade her the ultimate release.

Finally, almost thirty minutes had passed since he had started on her, and her whimpers had now turned into resigned sobs as she gave in to him entirely. He felt pity in his heart, black as it was, and stopped entirely for a second. Leaning up, he gently kissed her lips, easing them open without force. His tongue found hers as his fingers held her head, twisting into her hair. She sobbed into his mouth, reaching for his tongue eagerly as a respite from her torture. He finally pulled away, noting that his jaw felt sore from his ministrations and from the kiss, and trailed his fingertips down her body. She looked at him mournfully, the desperation never leaving her eyes.

Then, he re-attached his lips to her cunt, and flicked his tongue into her. One last caress was enough to send her over the edge, and she met her orgasm with extreme force, bucking in his grip and thrashing about as it struck her. For Bellatrix, it seemed like every single nerve ending in her body had ignited in pleasure all at once, assaulting her brain with so many different sensations that it nearly knocked her out. Breathing heavily, almost panting, she flopped back onto the bed after rocking up into a sitting position.

Harry clambered to his feet and got onto the bed with her. He pulled her into his arms, resting her head against his chest, where she snuggled into him unconsciously, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her eyes closed as she tried to stabilize her breath, and she eventually managed to do so. Sighing, she nuzzled his cheek with her nose, whispering "Thank you, Master."

He pulled her tighter against him and laid back on the bed. "I hope that was worth it...my mouth feels like I just got punched repeatedly."

She laughed, replying with a kiss that soon grew heated. He broke off, wincing and rubbing his jaw on reflex, despite knowing that the action was futile in its attempt to exercise the soreness out of it. She reached for his wand, and cast a pain-dulling charm on his jaw, and followed it up with a well placed healing charm. His problems solved, he pulled her back in for a kiss, making no attempts to discourage her sudden energetic response.

The buzzing in his head still persisted.

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Finally, they returned to the shower to get cleaned up, having cast numerous drying and cleaning charms on the mattress and sheets. Once they looked presentable, Bellatrix led him down to the main dining hall, explaining the history of the manor. Apparently it used to be a royal castle until the 16th Century, when it was placed under the Fidelius by a Dark Lord. It had then been handed down through the ages, each Dark Lord placing his own Fidelius on the structure once the previous ones faded with the death of their caster. Since the Muggle-repelling wards were still in place, it was never recovered by them.

They entered through the large doors, finding an ornately appointed room. It was large, larger than the Dursleys' entire house, and twice as high. Chandeliers glittered, the light reflecting off the crystals to play upon the walls in a symphonic medley of light, a soothing aspect despite the presence of the one called Lord Voldemort. Near the Dark Lord, it seemed as if the very light turned darker, creating an aura of hate and power that billowed about him like a cloud. The man's head lifted to regard the two latecomers, and Harry was struck by the fact that the light seemed to bend at his will, as he seemed to unconsciously manipulate it into a dark halo, framing his bald head majestically.

Harry inclined his head in greeting to Voldemort, who smirked in response to the dumbstruck looks on his Death Eaters' faces. Waving his arms magnanimously, he said, "Welcome to my abode, Harry Potter. I believe you didn't have much time last night to examine your surroundings?"

Harry inclined his head in reply, wand suddenly darting out. "Stupefy!" he muttered, flicking the wand at a certain Death Eater. The man in question was lifted out of his seat by the power of the spell, and smashed against the far wall with a sickening crack, where he slumped to the floor in a daze.

Voldemort was on his feet now, wand aimed at Harry's heart. His Death Eaters followed suit immediately, similarly training their wands on the young man.

Harry, looking entirely unconcerned, pulled out a chair at the foot of the table, and sat down easily. "One would think," he drawled, "that a certain degree of gratitude would be in order for exposing your spy."

There was an outcry of voices, some screaming in disbelief, others in hate, as the Death Eaters spoke in an irritating clash of screaming voices. They were silenced as Voldemort snarled, and snapped his wand to the sky, releasing a loud bang. They quieted, and retook their seats, but kept their wands ready.

The Dark Lord placed his palms flat on the table, and leaning forwards, hissed in a deadly voice "Explain." His voice brooked no argument, and even though he didn't show it, Harry was intimidated for a second.

Harry, who was munching on some rather delectable chicken at the moment, swallowed easily, and leaned back in his seat.

"I do believe that you have known of a spy for quite a while. I find it rather improbable that you would choose to ignore the fact that every attack he was privy to culminated with Dumbledore's presence. Well, there he is. Snivellus Snape is spying for the Order, and he has been doing so since before the end of the last war. I saw him in the Order Headquarters last summer, and I heard from the lips of more than one Order member that he was the one passing information. Ah...I have a request, if you would. You see, Snivelly and I never got along too well, and I must confess, it would be rather entertaining to take part in the torture, or at the very least, watch it."

Voldemort nodded, satisfied. "I have known about this for the past month now. My spy in the Order told me about it as soon as she joined my ranks. Currently, his glass of mulled mead contains Veritaserum, as I wished for the whole truth to be heard. But, it doesn't matter anymore, as you have just corroborated her story. I think you know the spy, Potter." He waved his hand towards a young woman sitting right next to Harry.

She turned towards him, a smirk on her face, and whispered "Wotcher, Harry." He raised an eyebrow, apparently unsurprised.

"Tonks," he nodded, greeting her without a single emotion on his face. "Good to see you here."

She seemed surprised that he knew of her infidelity, and said "We will talk tonight." He nodded, a slight smirk on his face as his eyes raked her body lustfully. He leaned in, his lips millimeters from her ear, and whispered "I've missed you, Tonks. I haven't seen you in a week. You always kept my bed so delightfully warm."

She blushed as he nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and kissed the line of her jaw. Her hand sneaked under the table to cup his crotch, and she whispered back "I told you that I'd see you again. Why do you think I'd been trying to change your mind about Dumbledore the whole time?"

He grinned at her, and whispered "Have you taken the mark yet?" She shook her head, pulling her sleeve up to expose a charm bracelet that had the Dark Mark dangling from it. He looked around, seeing that the other Death Eaters were once more engrossed in their food. Leaning back in, he gently kissed her lips, and whispered "Good. I told you before, Tonks. You're mine."

She shivered, and squeezed once on his crotch before returning to her meal.

Voldemort, who had a thoughtful expression on his face while Harry had been talking to Tonks, looked up from his plate, and said "Very well. It couldn't possibly do more harm to let you take part in his torture. Whatever secrets he had, he must have given up already."

Harry nodded, a pleased expression on his face. "And what of Wormtail?"

The Dark Lord laughed cruelly, replying "He will return tonight. He's been running a few errands for me. I shall inform him that a special guest, a reward for his services, is in the guest room. I'm sure you'll be pleased by his initial enthusiasm."

Harry laughed coldly, a frightful smirk on his face as he envisioned the bloodbath that would take place that night.

Harry grinned as he returned to his own meal, and looked over at Bellatrix.

She raised an eyebrow, and he beckoned her to lean in. As she did, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and whispered "She is your subordinate, Bellatrix. I have not marked her yet, for I wanted you to be my Alpha."

Smiling slightly, she locked lips with him, and returned to her meal.

Once the marking was done, loyalty was something that Harry did not have to worry about at all. The mark ensured that his mates' full loyalty rested solely in him, and they would never accept another as their master. Demonic magic was entirely different from Wizarding Magic. It was vastly more powerful, dwarfing it in the same manner that Albus Dumbledore's power dwarfed that of a Muggle newborn. While it was incredibly powerful, it was also rather limited. Demonic magic, in simple terms, was entirely destructive. Apart from shields and curses, there was no other use for Demonic magic. Transfiguration and Charms were impossible to perform with demonic magic; any attempts would simply ruin the item being spelled.

The letter had only conveyed the basics to him, teaching him how to transform, and utilize the barest of Demonic magic: the sexual allure of the Incubus and the marking of mates. Harry would have to make a venture down to the vault in Gringotts, for his mother had secreted a book under the piles of money. The book would teach him how to use the magic, about the culture of the Incubi. By far, though, it was the magic of the Demons that was valuable to him. His mother's letter had explained very little, and he ached to learn more.

It was a black energy that was manipulated by the Demon. There were no spells, per se, simply power. The destructive force of the spell relied entirely on the amount of magic used in the attack. Similarly, to defend, the Demon had to gauge the strength of the spell targeting him, and create a shield made of more magic. It was simple and straightforward.

Unfortunately for Voldemort, immortality was something that could not be achieved by a Wizard. Humans were unable to bear the strain caused by Immortality, for it leeched their magic to the point where it did not regenerate fast enough to fuel the demands of Immortality. The Philosopher's stone, however, conferred immortality by investing the user with that additional magic. Was it achievable by a Demon? Easily. A simple Ritual was all that it would take to freeze Harry's body in its current state for all eternity. The beauty was that he could easily undo the ritual once he tired of life, and this would not occur anytime soon. He had decided to avoid doing the ritual until he was a little over twenty. With the marking, his mates were sealed into their current forms as well, and once he completed the immortality ritual, they too, would live as long as he. The demon and his mates were bound in the most primordial fashion; their very souls were entwined around a shared life force.

It was the divine intervention, as Muggles would call it, the gift to the Demons from the Lord of the Darkness. The Demons, his trusted servants, were the recipients of the gift of life from Lucifer, the Darkness. It was from this Lord that all Dark Magic stemmed, whether conducted through the wand of a human, or the core of a creature. It was to the Darkness that Harry James Potter, Incubus, owed his allegiance.

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A golden haze filtered through the windows, reflecting the colors of the rainbow across the ceiling as they played upon the shiny floor, mirror-like in its quality. Sunlight, the Demon mused, extending a clawed hand into the rays, was something unfathomably powerful. Eons ago, this light would have scarred him, tearing through muscle, tendon and bone alike in its eternal quest to destroy the Darkness. Now, with the trembling détente between light and dark, it was loathe to incite the anger of one so dear to the Darkness.

Mixed-blood he might be, but the Incubus still retained his power and position. He came from the First, from the most powerful echelon of Demons, and he would eternally retain his position as one of the Lord's dearest. It was a native loyalty that appeared in him the night he transformed for the first time, a fixated knowledge that the will of the Lord was to be carried out flawlessly. It was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to resent. It was a simple acceptance that a higher power, one possessing unfathomable might, existed, and that he owed his allegiance to it.

He was still free to establish himself as a Dark Lord, knowing that his rule on Earth in no possible way harmed the Lord, who controlled the darkness of eternity itself. The Lord would not begrudge his servant some fun, knowing that the Incubus' first allegiance was to him. While lacking a body, the Lord in no way lacked omnipotence. A simple word could rend this existence to naught, but Harry did not fear that, for the treaty between light and dark would crumble. The balance of power, the neutrality that currently existed was far too important to damage. It enabled free will, allowing freedom of thought and action.

A rapping on the door cut off Harry's musing, and he hurriedly transformed back, his wings disappearing as the door opened.

It was Bellatrix, clad in a simple robe. Locking the door firmly, she walked around to his front, standing a few feet in front of the couch he was reposed on. She blocked the sun, her head firmly replacing the orb of golden light that hung suspended in the skies. It gave her a halo much like it had the Dark Lord, a shimmering golden light that reflected off the strands of her hair, adding an ethereal element to her beauty.

He smiled at her, beckoning her to him. Gently, she slipped onto his lap, and rested her head against his shoulder, nestling it under his chin. He wrapped his arm around her back, holding her to him tightly, and kissed her forehead. His right hand rose, and slowly unbuttoned her robe while she sat on his lap sideways. As he finished, he slipped it off her shoulders, baring the ethereal sight that was her body. Her nipples were tense, straining as she stared at him. His hand gently fell on her breast, stroking gently. She leaned back into his embrace, once more molding her body against his.

The golden light of the sun streamed in through the window, coating her skin with a glow. She pressed against him harder, excited by his touch, but he gently calmed her down. Removing his hand from her breast, he threaded his fingers through her hair, letting the silky strands flow between his fingers.

"Master," she whispered, gently touching his bare chest, "why did you get angry this morning?"

He caressed her cheek, looking into the submissive, emotional eyes with a frown. "Bellatrix, what happened to you?" he asked, still frowning as if she represented a puzzle that he couldn't work out. This was true, in a way.

Confused, she asked "What do you mean, Master? Do I not please you?"

A dawning light appeared in his eyes as he understood. He kissed her lips slowly, and pulled back. "You are Bellatrix Black, my Alpha. Bellatrix, I wanted you for your fervor. If I wanted a submissive woman, I would have picked someone else. I lusted for you because you were so powerful in mind and action. Do not act submissive, you are not my slave. You have all the acceptance you could need from me...I desire you for who you are, and I certainly didn't want you to try and satisfy me by discarding your true nature. Express yourself, Bellatrix."

A slow smirk spread on her face, and as he saw it, a similar expression crossed his face. "You mean it, Master?" she asked, the touch of coldness back in her voice, though it wasn't directed at him. All of a sudden, it seemed, the Bellatrix Black who was revered and reviled seemed to return, the spark of insanity once again resident in her alluring, misleadingly pure eyes.

His hands cupped her cheeks, his eyes glinting as he whispered "Yes."

She laughed, a warm laugh despite the slight tinge of coldness in it. Leaning in, she kissed him, caressing his cheeks lovingly. Her lips were warm, soft and smooth, gently pressing against his. He pulled away, and drew her back into his arms. She nestled into his chest gratefully, and asked "Can I help you with Wormtail?"

He laughed cruelly, replying "You need not ask, Bella. I, however, will be the one to kill him."

She nodded, and stayed silent for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of his fingers slipping through her hair.

"How many women will you have, Harry?" she asked, the lack of accusation in her voice somehow indicating that she was looking forward to it.

He looked down at her, and asked "I cannot tell. Why do you ask?"

A devious smile spread on her face as she asked "Do you remember what you offered me yesterday? You offered me a slave..."

He laughed, saying "Of course. Do you have someone in mind?"

Her eyes glittered as she said one word: "Narcissa."

An image dawned in his mind of the Black scion that had married into the Malfoy Family. Long, blond hair, cascading down her back beautifully. An aristocratic face, angular and attractive, sneering derisively, but regarding him curiously. Creamy, porcelain skin lightly accented with makeup, beautiful under the lights of the stadium. Cold, expressionless countenance, slight malice directed towards everyone, including her husband and son. Beauty in the true sense of the word, her cold blue eyes scanning her surroundings distastefully. Tall stature, upright and straight-backed, a commanding gait that bolstered the aristocratic heritage she had. A black dress, hugging her frame perfectly; displaying, yet hiding the wonderful curves of her body. The bodice, almost a corset, but far more elegant, supporting large breasts that shook gently as she breathed. The incredibly sexy voice, smooth and cultured as she spoke to Fudge, the bulge in his pants growing involuntarily.

A virtual duplicate of Bellatrix Black, save for the fact that she had blonde hair.

A slow smile spread on his face as he echoed her, whispering "Narcissa."

She smirked at his expression, and leaned in, lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. "Narcissa is my sister, Master. My half-sister. She is three years younger than me. I love her dearly, and by your expression a moment ago, I'd say that you will, too. She would not really be a slave, Master, simply my aide. She, of course, will be yours at any time you desire her, and I will most gladly help you take her however you desire. I don't know why I ask this, Master, for I know you would not treat her as a dog, but it is something I want. She is dear to me, and times have kept us apart."

He laughed again, his hand gently stroking her breast, and whispered "Very well. She will be your aide, and she shall answer to none but you and I."

She smiled, kissing him deeply. "Thank you, Master. Should I arrange for her to come here?"

She made to rise, but her held on to her. "What of her husband and child?"

Bellatrix laughed. "Her husband? He was rather well acquainted with my ex-husband, Master. I think you understand me. Her son? She cannot stand him. He, like his father, is obnoxious. And, there is another aspect that you will like."

He raised an eyebrow. "What would that be, Bella, dear? And Lucius and Rudolphus? Interesting, but disgusting; an image I really didn't need."

Smirking, she said "With Lucius' incarceration, she is in control of the Malfoy finances. Her son must wait for another month to become of age, so until then, she is the Head of the Family. If you have her, you have the power of the Malfoy Family with you. Also, she went through the Ritual of Restoration like I did; we did it together, but I haven't seen her since."

He laughed, saying "Brilliant, Bella."

Her eyes glittered as she said "Her son, Master. What of him? He was conceived immaculately-" She paused at the look of disbelief on his face.

"Bella," he moaned, "please tell me that Draco Malfoy is NOT some sort of second coming!"

She laughed, a truly amused, warm sound erupting from her mouth. "No, Harry. He was conceived without intercourse; it was magically done. Since Narcissa never lost her virginity, in the true sense of the word, the Ritual of Restoration would have restored her hymen. She will be tight enough for your tastes, Master. And a question, if you would...would she obey me as she does you?"

He looked at her, slightly shocked by the forwardness she was displaying. "Of course, you are my Alpha, so your word is law, unless I personally deem it otherwise. I shall have to think on what I will do with dear Draco. I suppose I should ask her opinion, too. Very well, you can arrange for her to come here, but you must first be rewarded. Your help will prove to be invaluable."

She shivered as his eyes sparked, and gently folded into his embrace. He kissed her slowly, and then kissed her neck a few times.

"This will not hurt," he whispered, stroking the skin on her hip. She relaxed further, giving him complete control over her.

He kissed her neck one last time, and transformed even as he held her. The aura suddenly blanketed her mind, sweeping her away into a wave of ecstasy. She sighed, melting against him, and he bared his fangs. Gently, he sunk them into her neck, the wound causing little pain, and released some of his toxin.

She screamed a few seconds later, luckily just after he withdrew his fangs from her. Thrashing in his arms, she climaxed fitfully, crushing her body against his tightly.

His hand soothed her, gently stroking her lower back. Her muscles seemed to spasm under his palm as she climaxed, shaking fitfully in his grip. He felt his leg get wet as his Alpha leaked on him, her fluids creating a wet spot on his thigh. Her arms jerked into movement as they wrapped around his torso, tightly embracing him.

She leaned into him, indulging in the security he seemed to radiate once more. Eyes closed, she breathed with her face pressed against his chest, her breath ghosting over his skin. "How do you do that?" she murmured, vaguely indicating the invisible sense of security and comfort that he exuded.

He replied "My magic responds to my mate. I am a sexual creature, Bella, and being my mate, my magic does what it must to make you comfortable."

She nodded, cheek brushing against his nipple. His fingers caressed her cheek, gently trailing across her features. She was beautiful...the sunlight seemed to enhance her allure to an impossibly greater degree, making her look celestial, divine goddess of perfection.

Slowly, she rose, and slipped her robe on again. She stared at the spot on his leg, a slight blush on her face, and he laughed.

"Forget about it. You...might want to wear something more than that robe, Bella...my robe, it seems."

She blushed again, and quickly kissed him before ducking into the bathroom. He shook his head, murmuring "Don't even kid yourself, Potter. You will never understand women."

Her mood swings were odd to him, as until a few hours ago, he had never seen her look anything but strong and defiant. From Dumbledore's pensieve to the Black Family tapestry to the event at the Ministry, her cold, harsh eyes had always stared at him from under heavy lidded eyebrows, the aristocratic posture of her body radiating defiance and superiority. This morning, however, she had been like a slave, going out of her way to please him in ways that would never work. Hopefully, he mused, she had understood that he wanted her for who she was, not as a simple slave. Other women could be brought into his fold for that purpose.

Waving his hand and focusing hard, he cast a cleaning spell, removing the wetness from his robe. Standing, he stretched, allowing the robe to cascade off his body as he swept towards the bed. A few minutes later, he was dressed, just in time for Bellatrix to leave the bathroom. She looked elegant, and incredibly beautiful.

She wore a green skirt, knee-length and hugging her slender frame perfectly. A corset, made of black leather, lifted her voluptuous breasts, making the swell of her bosom look positively edible. A white shirt with sleeves that came to her elbows covered the corset, buttoned enough to accent her cleavage beautifully. Her robe was still open, as she had not fastened it yet.

She gulped at the look in his eyes, one of burning passion and desire. Striding over with impossible urgency, he took her in his arms, and crashed his lips against hers. She moaned into his mouth, but a second later, his lips slipped off hers, and down to her neck, where he sucked and kissed her skin with abandon. His lips crept lower still, finally finding the creamy skin of her cleavage. Her head was thrown back, her breath short as he held her, desire burning in her veins.

Then, he was gone, standing a good three feet from her and gazing at her with longing burning in his eyes. Incapable of regular speech, his words came out as a sexy growl. "I think you'd better leave, Bella. We can continue tonight."

Gulping down the disappointment, she nodded. Before leaving, she strode up to him, and grabbed him into a kiss, passionate and lengthy, while restraining his arms against the wall. Then, she pulled back, and flashing a smirk, disapparated. He thought that the fact that there were no apparition wards was a joke, but reasoned that with the Fidelius, there was no need to ward the place, since Voldemort's enemies would never know where the place was.

As he left the room, trying to find the dungeons, he remembered to ask Voldemort to tell him the secret. He had finally identified the buzzing in the back of his head. It was the fact that his brain was unable to comprehend where he was at the moment, for the secret to the Fidelius Charm had not been told to him yet. He existed somewhere, but his brain kept hitting a dead-end each time it tried to figure out exactly where he was.

Obviously, the Dungeons would be towards the lowest part of the castle, so he headed down several flights of stairs. It was to no avail, as the place was like a maze. He was getting irritated, and looked around to find a Death Eater to direct him. After bemoaning the utter dearth of valuable help in Voldemort's forces, he finally found a Death Eater with a rank high enough to actually know where the Dungeons were.

To his pleasure, it was Macnair who he found. The man, though haughty and prideful, was still cowed by the presence of the young Demon, to the point of going pale at the sight of him. To his credit, though, Macnair did not shiver or shake, and managed to keep both his anger and fear in rather respectably.

Five minutes later found Harry smirking at Macnair as the Executioner slipped away, his face still pale.

He threw open the door, and smiled wildly as the cacophony of screams hit his ears. They were musical to him, and for a moment, he indulged his insanity, waving his wand around like a conductor's baton. The scream cut off, laughter being heard over the whimpers that the ball of rags emitted.

Voldemort stood majestically, his wand pointed at the shivering man on the floor, cold laughter emerging from the excuse of an orifice that he called his mouth. Sharp, pointed teeth reflected the light in the room, the grin sadistic as he laughed at Harry's actions.

Pleased, the young Demon bowed gracefully, stating theatrically "Ah, music...a greater magic than what we do here."

The quote, stolen verbatim from one of Dumbledore's 'old man moments' set the Dark Lord off into another bout of creepy chuckles. Apparently, living in the back of Quirrel's head had not caused any lack of memory to the Dark Lord.

A magnanimous sweep of the hand accompanied the words "Enter, enter, my dear boy," as the Dark Lord made his own attempt at humor. It wasn't particularly funny, but Harry felt the need to laugh anyways, if only to appease the volatile temper of the Dark Lord.

A flick of his wand created the same cushy chintz armchair that he had employed the night before, and he reposed himself in it gracefully...by flopping into it rather noisily.

An amused expression crossed his face as the shaking man on the ground raised his face. His robes were tattered and torn, giving him the look of a rough-housed prisoner of war, which, of course, the man now was. Blood soaked the robes at various points, adding to the sadistic décor of the room, which Harry just noticed. The floor and walls were grimy, wet and covered in some sort of mossy substance in places. The light was low, a simple candle with a magically enhanced flame throwing flickering lights across the cell.

The face that was upturned towards him held a meld of emotions that Harry rather interestedly decided to decipher. There was a little bit of pity, which he nearly laughed at, a lot of anger, not a small amount of hate, rather copious amounts of betrayal...and was that pain? Here, he laughed, the sound decidedly mismatched when compared to the room around him.

"Hello Snape!" he called out cheerfully, "I do hope you're having fun...it would be a rather large waste of effort if you were bored. Can I get you something? Water, perhaps? Tea? No...such base items can hardly cheer a spy of your...caliber. A capital idea, then...how about some blood?"

The black eyes staring at him widened frantically as Harry's arm darted out, grabbing his face in a vise-like grip. His fingers parted the man's mouth open with some difficulty, and extended in, grasping the slippery tongue. It was hard to keep a hold of, so Harry thanked the darkness of the room, and extended the claw on his index finger, viciously stabbing it through the tongue, and ripping it out. As he pulled it out, he avoided the small spurt of blood, and retracted the claw. Quickly, before Snape could spit the blood out mid-scream, he slammed the man's mouth shut, and held it so tightly. Even so, some amount of blood leaked out from between the man's lips, and covered his hands.

The sound of a muffled scream and panicking were easily audible to Harry, as his position while holding the man's head caused his face to be a mere inch away from the side of Snape's head. Eventually, he was forced to swallow the blood, as it was impossible to breathe while holding the fluid in his mouth. Pleased, Harry let go of the man's head, and stepped away as Snape gagged, trying in vain to throw the blood back up. The coppery taste was disgusting to him, but he was unable to focus on it for long due to the pain in his mouth. Sobbing and whimpering, he collapsed on the floor, choking when he tried to scream because of the blood that repeatedly filled his mouth.

Harry looked up, a sadistic grin on his face, and was met with Voldemort's nonplussed face.

The Dark Lord blinked. Then, he blinked again.

Some emotion seemed to bubbling up in the red eyes of the quasi-monster, and Harry patiently waited for it to manifest, patting Snape's cheek like one would a dog.

The Dark Lord blinked again.

Then he laughed. A cold, chilling laugh, yet with the unmistakable ring of true amusement. It exploded out of his mouth, filling the tiny room with the reverberating sound that nearly made Harry wince.

Finally, the laughter came to an end, and Voldemort swiped a hand at his eyes, filching some wetness out of them. Shaking his head, a giggle...a GIGGLE...spurting out of his lips, he choked out "Excellent, Potter! Incredible. You have a flair for this, boy, you should have joined me a long time ago. I haven't laughed out of true amusement in over six months! The last time was when Wormtail soiled himself when I glared at him."

Harry grinned, pleased at the very least by the fact that someone appreciated his work. He gazed down at Snape, a smile still on his face, and slapped him back to consciousness, saying "Come now, Snape! This is no time to sleep! The humor is just getting good!"

He grimaced, noting that his hands were once more covered in blood, and shook them vigorously, causing small sprinkles to dot the greasy man's face. Irritably, he held his hands out to Voldemort, who obliged him by casting a quick charm to remove the filth from his fingers.

A sickened expression on his face, he turned to Voldemort again, and muttered "Christ...I just touched his tongue!"

The Dark Lord frowned at the use of the reference to Muggle culture, but said "I think that's enough for you. I shall finish here, though it will doubtlessly take a while. You've taken your revenge, so be satisfied with Wormtail...Snape has a lot to answer for, traitor that he is."

Standing, Harry nodded, and moved for the door, throwing a last glance at Snape before he left. He stopped short, wheeling about sharply, and said "You realize that I will have to escape soon? Perhaps on Friday...that gives me three days."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow in response, clearly waiting for an explanation as to why Harry would want to 'escape'.

"I need to get back into Dumbledore's graces...and what better way than to valiantly manage to apparate to safety, after being held in the clutches of the Dark Lord for a whole week of torture? This was meant to be a vacation of sorts for me, but eventually, I need to get back there."

Voldemort nodded slowly, saying "I will allow you this. However, I expect you to give me a conclusive answer as to what your allegiance shall be by the 1st of September. We shall negotiate tomorrow, so that you understand exactly what I have to offer you."

Harry nodded his understanding, and left. As much as he hated to admit it, he rather admired Voldemort. The man inspired such terror, possessed such power, and commanded such force that it was unwise to even think of underestimating him. He was a leader, and he ruled with an iron fist. While he knew that joining Voldemort was impossible, he could recognize the fact that it was a lucrative option, at the very least.

Shaking his head, he discarded the thoughts, leaving them for later review. Right now, he mused with a spark in his eyes, he had a woman to tame.

********* *********** ********** ******** ********* **********

With a slight hiss of air, Bellatrix Black appeared in the Guest Hall of Malfoy Mansion. The opulent décor, as always, reminded her of what she had missed out in life. While her sister, married to a brute of equal idiocy, lived a life of plush luxury, she had languished in Azkaban, employing what little she knew of Occlumency to protect her vulnerable mind. Of course, she had failed, transforming one who was once a cold, ruthless yet moralistic woman into an insane, depraved maniac. The Ritual of Restoration had, to some extent, returned control of her mental facilities to her, but the wear of Azkaban still lingered within her; the darkness of thought and the perverse fascination with death and torture still held its own degree of sway in her mind.

But now things were different. She had a man, young though he was, who appreciated her for exactly who she was. He wanted every ounce of the woman that Bellatrix Black was, and she would give him exactly what he wanted, without having to become someone that she wasn't. With his power, fame and wealth, she would be the one who would live in a mansion. She would be an Empress.

While she loved her sister, some amount of malice and envy had always beset their bond. She envied the fact that her sister had enjoyed such luxury when she had been cast aside. Bella had always appreciated Narcissa's beauty...it was rather narcissistic, as the two looked almost entirely similar. Truth be told, she had always wanted her superiority over Narcissa to be firmly established, and having Narcissa be her slave would satisfy more than one craving. It would not mean that she would live like an animal, collared and domesticated. But she would not exactly live in the lap of luxury anymore. Bellatrix Black would have her, in any way that she wanted.

The wards on the house alerted Narcissa, who dispatched an elf to inquire as to who the visitor was. The elf, possessing some ridiculous name, bowed fearfully before Bellatrix Black, making her perversely proud because her reputation had reached even the massive, floppy ears of this pathetic race.

She snapped at the elf, commanding it to take her to her sister. The elf, terrified, immediately obeyed, in hopes of staying unharmed. Of course, considering the various scars that pockmarked its body, this was a rather unrealistic hope. Sure enough, as Bellatrix was shown into the massive living room of the house, she pulled on the door a tad too hard, causing it to rocket into the elf's head as it bowed her in. Squealing, it fell to the floor, grasping its head. Irritably, Narcissa snapped her wand towards it, a flash of green light ending its life.

"Disgusting little creatures. Always breeding, but they get stupider each generation," she muttered, banishing the elf to the kitchens, where more of its kind would weep and moan over the supposed 'loss of valuable life'.

Bellatrix greeted her sister with a hug and a kiss on each cheek, a smile on her face. "You look beautiful, Narcy. The Ritual worked excellently, it seems, on both of us."

Narcissa held her sister at arm's length, scrutinizing her closely. Finally, she roughly pulled her in for a hug, tightly grasping her as she said "It is incredible to see you looking this beautiful again, Bella."

She smiled, returning the hug.

Taking her hand, Narcissa led Bellatrix over to the opulent couches, where they sat down and spoke avidly about meaningless things, recounting what had happened since they had completed the ritual. They drank tea and talked, the atmosphere pleasant.

About an hour after they had sat down, someone entered the room. It was Draco Malfoy, looking smug as ever, swaggering into the room. Narcissa barely managed to hide the look of distaste on her face, but Bellatrix was unable to. Draco, of course, took this as a positive sign, an expression of her obvious love for him.

Draco sat extremely close to her, and smiled at her suggestively, putting his hand on her thigh. "Why hello. Mother, are you arranging my marriage to this beautiful lady?"

Narcissa's mouth fell open in shock, and Draco somehow took this as his mother agreeing with him. Smiling, what was in his opinion, a dazzling smile, he slid his hand further up her leg, saying "Why don't we adjourn to my room, then? I'm sure you don't wish to be bothered by my mother. You can show me you-urk!"

He was cut off as three things happened simultaneously. First, his hand reached a dangerous position on Bella's thigh. Second, she grabbed his hand in a tight grip, and twisted it hard, nearly snapping it. Third, her other hand shot up to grab his throat, squeezing hard and causing him to choke. Standing up, she pushed him away from her, causing him to sprawl on the floor.

He leapt to his feet, eyes blazing, and snarled "How dare you! Do you know who I am? You should be lucky that I'm even considering touching you!"

Bella smirked, and whipped out her wand, snarling "Crucio!" The unforgivable hit Draco in the face, and he went down screaming. For the first time in a long while, occasions with her sister not counted, Narcissa smiled out of true amusement.

Conversationally, Bella said "You forget your place, boy. I am Bellatrix Black, and you are a pre-pubescent, irritating little snot. It's almost laughable that you would think to touch me. Perhaps..." she mused, stroking her chin, "perhaps you should meet my lover, so you know exactly what sort of man I like."

At this, Narcissa choked, and Draco paled. He had heard about his aunt, the one who was the right hand of the Dark Lord. Cursing his stupidity, he tried to babble something, but she silenced him with a glare, and conjured ropes to tie him up.

Wheeling around, she was confronted by her sister, who asked with raised eyebrows "Your lover? And what of Rudolphus?"

Smirking, she answered "He killed Rudolphus. Then, he bedded me in the most amazing manner. Then, he killed Rabastan."

Narcissa's eyes were practically popping out of her head. "And the Dark Lord hasn't killed him? Amazing!"

Smirking, Bella said "I'll bring him over here. He wanted to meet you anyways. Oh...he doesn't like Draco much, so just leave him right there. I'm sure you will like how things turn out."

Narcissa nodded blankly, unsure of what to say. "I...uh...I'll have an elf wait for you in the Guest Hall to show you in." Bella nodded, and left for the apparation point.

Back in the room, Draco glared at his mother, and snarled "Free me from these ropes, woman! First you go through some ritual to make you look like a trollop, and now you allow your whore of a sister to restrain me? Release me at once, and hope that I don't let Father know about this!"

Narcissa crouched down, but instead of freeing him, she slapped Draco across the face. Sneering at his shocked expression, she said "Your dear Father, the bastard that he is, is a little busy right now, In fact, I hear he is in Azkaban right now, talking to his shadow, and shitting all over himself. Keep yourself silent, or I will end your life!"

"You wouldn't dare!" he gasped, fear in his eyes.

Sneering, she said "Don't doubt it, boy. There is no love lost between the two of us, and it would not hurt to let you die."

He gasped again, shaking slightly in fear from the expression on his mother's face.

Cruelly, she said "Did you know how you were conceived? Let me tell you, Draco. You are unaware that your father is homosexual, correct?"

His answering look of disbelief was enough, and she continued "Now you know. He used a spell to impregnate me, he did not even deflower me. The spell made sure that you would be a boy, and that you would take on the majority of his features and tendencies. What part of you comes from me? As far as I can see, Draco, the only thing we share is blood type. So, you see, I am not particularly concerned with preserving the line of a man who treated me like shit, and forced me to spawn his virtual replica."

The sound of clapping made her turn, and she saw Bellatrix leading someone in. The man that followed her was tall, a good 6"1, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He seemed to be well muscled, going by the way his robe hugged his body tightly. He was so handsome that he almost seemed beautiful to her, the symmetry of his face somehow seeming perfectly aligned and incredibly attractive. Unblemished skin, tanned a light golden brown by the sun, stood out, increasing the vivid color of his eyes. His eyes were an incredible shade of green, and his hair was pulled back into a traditional pureblood ponytail.

She had to force herself to blank her emotions, but she was impressed. Her sister had found someone who looked utterly delicious, and was apparently very powerful, if he killed Rudolphus and Rabastan.

When he finally came close enough for her to see every feature of his face, she nearly fainted. There, above his eyebrow was a very famous scar.

Blanching, she turned to Bellatrix and asked "Is there something you want to say?"

Theatrically, Bellatrix sighed, her hand caressing Potter's rear. "What can I say, Narcy? I've always had a thing for the Boy-Who-Lived."

At those words, Narcissa raised an eyebrow, and Draco, from his place on the floor, choked in disbelief. He began stammering atrocities, trying to maneuver his body into a sitting position.

His actions were cut short as a boot landed on his chest none too lightly, and pressed him back against the ground. Harry Potter's face loomed over him, smirking at his misfortune.

"Hello, Draco, dear," he said, the smirk never leaving his face.

Turning to Narcissa, he scrutinized her closely, making no pretense of covering his appreciation. She blushed, feeling his gaze carefully raking her body, taking in every feature on her body. A slow smirk spread on his face as he saw her blush, and he inclined his head, saying "Very nice..." She blushed again, turning away slightly so she wasn't looking into his eyes any more.

"Please, take a seat." She obeyed unconsciously, entirely ignoring the fact that it was her house, and that he was at HER hospitality, not the other way around. He moved away from Draco and sat next to her, extremely close to her body, but not quite touching her. Turning sideways, he looked at her calmly, waiting for her to say something.

Although he wasn't touching her, she shivered under his gaze, feeling rather naked in the way he was gazing at her. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she pondered why he was looking at her like that when her sister, his lover, was standing just a few feet away. She made to say something, but her breath caught as her eyes found his again, and she closed her mouth silently.

He smiled at her, his fingers rising to gently stroke her cheek. She twitched, feeling his fingers touch her. His fingers were calloused, the fingers of a fighter...a real man, unlike Lucius, who pampered himself like a woman, practically bathing in salves to keep his skin soft. Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch ever so slightly, making his smile widen.

Bellatrix looked at them interacting, a meld of emotions within her. Of course, some amount of jealousy was present, he, after all, was her man. But there was also anticipation, security in the bond that she shared with him, and a tiny bit of guilt for what the fate of her sister would be. The last emotion, perversely, was arousal...seeing him in his element, doing what was native to his species, was a curious aphrodisiac for her. She reclined into her seat, fighting the urge to slip her hand down the waistband of her skirt.

His thumb gently stroked her cheek as he whispered "May I call you Narcissa?"

Heart beating wildly, she blushed like a schoolgirl when she replied "Narcy..." He smiled at her, still caressing her cheek.

"Do you love him? Do you care for him? Do you want him to live?" He was careful. He did not want to influence her opinion...something that he could easily do. All it would take was a simple compulsion laced into the aura of attraction that he was exuding, and she would melt at his feet, agreeing to anything he desired. But she was a mother, and out of respect for his own, he would not harm her son unless she truly wanted it.

Indecision reigned in her expressions as her eyes lost focus for a while, pondering events of the past. Sadness showed in her eyes as she whispered "I never loved him...he-he was my son, but not anymore. I can't-I won't!- feel anything for him! He is...his father, in all ways. Not mine...no, not mine at all. And he will kill...he already has. Innocents. Muggles...filthy, they are...but they don't deserve it. He doesn't even justify it...he isn't a Death Eater, he just captures them and tortures them. Disgusting. He doesn't deserve to live."

A tear rolled from her eye, sliding down her cheek and making a gentle splash on the palm that touched her cheek. He wiped the wetness away with his thumb, his other hand gently taking her hand in his. Then, her eyes became cold, unforgiving as always. "No. Draco Malfoy will not live. The line of Malfoy will end."

He moved closer to her, his thigh pressed against hers. "Very well. Will you kill him? Or shall I? Or shall we torture him...for all that he has done?"

A smirk spread on her face as she whispered one word. "Torture." He was not just a little surprised, she was apparently just as bloodthirsty as her sister. A similar smirk spread on his face.

"I have an idea," he said, now holding her face in both hands, gently touching her. She looked into his eyes, melting even further into his grip.

"What?" she whispered, now so entranced by the color of his eyes that her hand reached up to touch his face, fingers drifting over his lips with impossible gentleness.

"Let it wait. I want you, Narcy...do you want me?" His aura was playing about them in waves, at a low level of strength. At his maximum, all the women within a hundred meters would rush to his side, clutching at his skin for attention.

Her eyes went wide. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she continued touching his face. "N-N-Yes," she admitted, now clutching at his shoulders with urgency. He was impressed. Apparently, she was hard to convince. He had not attempted anything on Bellatrix...he wanted her to be his Alpha, and he would have her in no other manner except voluntarily.

Leaning in, he gently brushed his lips against hers, and was a bit startled when she responded energetically, latching onto his lips with hers forcefully. Perhaps, it wasn't conviction that had made her hard to sway, it was simply her innate desire to maintain her dignity. Of course, after having admitted her attraction, no such matters trifled her any longer.

She climbed into his lap, kissing him hard, her lips parting his, tongue immediately darting into his mouth to find his. Her fingers threaded into his hair, clutching tightly. He ignored the slight pain, gently taking her into his arms, one hand on her hip, the other stroking her back. She moaned as his hand squeezed on her hip, rutting against him wildly. Gently, he calmed her down, stroking her back.

"Slowly," he whispered, stroking her hair. She nodded demurely, relaxing in his grip. He lifted her, and set her down on the couch, and stood up. He walked over to Draco, grinning at the look of utter hatred on his face.

Bending down, he cast a silencing charm on him, and with a glint of malice in his eyes, whispered "Have fun watching this, Draco, dear." He screamed bloody murder, tossing around, but all that was heard was a slight rustling of his clothes. Harry grinned malevolently again, patting his cheek. Then, he hauled Draco's restrained body up easily, holding him by the throat. Applying a sticking charm to the wall, he stuck Draco to it. In this position, Draco could see everything going on in the sitting area. Throwing a smirk over his shoulder, Harry walked back to Narcissa.

Pulling her to her feet, he held her by the waist as he kissed her slowly, Narcissa responding with equal passion. Pulling away slightly, he reached behind her, undoing the fastening that covered the zipper of her sun dress. It parted easily, and he slowly slid the zip down, absently wondering when the Magical world had learnt about zippers. When it reached the bottom, about an inch above the swell of her buttocks, he pulled his arms up, gently fingering the shoulder straps of the garment. Flashing a smirk at Draco over Narcissa's shoulder, he slipped the straps off, and let the dress fall to the floor.

Draco thrashed against the wall in fury as Harry gazed at Narcissa in frank appreciation, swallowing audibly as he took in the beauty of her body. His palm covered her breast, gently massaging as he kissed her again, moving his lips off hers and down to her neck. His eyes were closed as he worked on her, indulging in the incredible experience that it was. When they opened, he had to fight to cover his smirk as he saw Bellatrix, gazing at them with fire in her eyes, hand mysteriously missing down her skirt, fondling herself with abandon.

He allowed Narcissa to slowly disrobe him, interspersing the movements of her hands with occasional kisses pressed to the newly uncovered parts of his body. When, at last, he was naked, she pressed kisses to his chest as she slowly dropped to her knees before him. His fingers laced into her hair, gripping gently as she took his cock into her hands, looking at it reverently. A smile crossed his face as he leaned his head back, her lips gently enveloping the head of his cock. Her ministrations were soft and gentle, coaxing him to hardness with her hands and mouth. She, Harry decided, was gifted in the use of her tongue, as she somehow managed to wrap her tongue around him.

The expression of dedicated concentration on her face was arousing to him, quickly bringing him to full mast, throbbing within the soft grip of her hands. Long fingers were curled around his shaft, stroking ever so slowly, and he was unable to stifle the gasp that rose out of him as she flicked her tongue out. He pulled her up, gently kissing her lips, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the definition of his muscles. Lifting her up, he laid her down on the couch. For the first time, Draco got a look at his mother's front, and he screamed silently, cursing Harry and himself as a bulge grew in his pants.

Noting Draco's expression, Harry smirked again. He moved Narcissa into a sitting position, and lifted her up, sliding under her so she was sitting on his lap, her back against his chest. She was facing Draco, but paid him no heed as she threw her head back onto his shoulder as he gently massaged her breasts, fingers grazing against her erect nipples. Draco's face was red in fury as Harry smirked at him, his hands roaming over Narcissa's body. He bit down on her neck, sucking on her skin as he hefted her breasts, utterly loving the feeling of the large orbs in his hands.

His cock, erect and throbbing, was restrained by her crotch, being pressed down along the length of his thighs by her weight. The lips of her pussy were against his shaft, and as she rutted against him, moaning desperately, her nether lips felt as if they were kissing the length of his member. Finally tired of the foreplay, despite having given her little in the way of real pleasure, he gently lifted her up in his lap. As if she were reading his mind, her hands found his crotch, her right hand aligning the head of his cock with her wet entrance, the other playing with his balls. In an agonizingly slow movement, she slid down the length of his member, taking his impressive size in inch by inch. Her head thrown back, she gasped loudly at the initial penetration, her hand leaving his balls to gently massage her clit.

Through gritted teeth, he hissed in pleasure feeling her hot snatch envelop his cock tightly. A few inches in, she whimpered as her hymen broke, and deciding to get the pain over with, plopped down on his lap, taking him in entirely. She screamed as the pain struck her, but was quickly soothed by his hands stroking her to calmness. A few seconds later, she began bouncing on him, slow at first, and building up her speed. Laying back, he let her take control, simply using his hands to fondle her breasts, or reaching down to her snatch to stimulate her clit.

Minutes later found her crying out in exultation as she came, climaxing with enough force for her to fall limp in his arms. Still hard, he gently lifted her off his lap, allowing space for some of their fluids to drip down on him. Moving her body, he laid her down over the arm of the couch so that her rear was pointed up in the air. A wicked smile played across his face as his hands gently massaged the cheeks of her ass, relaxing the tension out of her. He grinned at Draco, then Bellatrix, who was breathing heavily, panting from arousal.

He pressed a kiss to the small of her back, and then on each cheek of her ass. He wet his fingers in the fluid of her arousal, and slowly inserted them into Narcissa's bung, gently lubricating her. Even so, he cast a charm to make his passage easy on both of them. Pointing the tip of his cock against her hole, he slowly thrust in, allowing her to become accustomed to his size. She was moaning into the pillows of the couch, fingers gripping the fabric tightly. When, at last, he was all the way inside her, he paused, and turned to Draco.

Draco, seeing his mother being consensually sodomized by his worst enemy, nearly exploded in his anger, his rage more than apparent through the blush on his face. Even so, his arousal was equally evident, his hardness straining in his trousers. He felt sickened, knowing that he was aroused by his mother, but was unable to ignore the fact that she was painfully gorgeous...her naked body glistening with sweat, each inch of her body more voluptuous than the last. The smirk on Harry's face as he pounded into Narcissa again and again angered him increasingly, but the silencing charm did its work.

Harry was in heaven, his eyes closed tightly as he thrust into Narcissa, her tightness and heat incredibly arousing to him. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and a smirk spread on his face as he planned yet another action to anger Malfoy. The seconds passed, bringing on another apocalyptic orgasm for Narcissa. She screamed, a kaleidoscope of colors flashing in her eyes as her vision swam a little.

Almost at his peak, Harry pulled out of Narcissa, quickly telling her to get on her knees. Taking his member into her soft grip, she stroked him to completion, her mouth pleasurably enveloping his cock. He climaxed, firing streams of come deep into her mouth. Before finishing, he pulled out of her mouth, emptying the rest of his load on her face, in full view of Draco. Gasping for breath after the incredible orgasm, he slumped onto the couch, pulling her into his lap. A wave of his hand cleared the semen from her face, the rest being swallowed by Narcissa. Still breathing heavily, he kissed her, easing her lips open to find her tongue. The slight salty taste of the semen lingered, but he paid it no heed, stroking her cheek contentedly as they kissed.

At length, he pulled away, whispering "You will be mine, Narcy, won't you?"

She whimpered, pressing her body against his as she murmured her assent. He wrapped his arms around her waist, telling her to lean her head to the side. She complied, exposing her slender neck to him. Licking the skin on her neck produced a shudder, and he gently kissed her skin a few times. Then, he transformed under her, causing Draco's eyes to widen in shock and fear. The enveloping aura of sexuality called to Narcissa, who surrendered to it entirely, falling limp in his arms. Gently, he sunk his teeth into her neck, tasting her blood. To him, there was no coppery flavor, no disgusting tang...it was a beautiful sensation, a wonderful taste. He released the toxin into her body, feeling it seep into her bloodstream and spread through her body. He extracted his fangs a second before her orgasm struck, carrying her away in a maelstrom of pleasure as she screamed her ecstasy to the high heavens.

She fell limp against him again, slowly regaining her strength. She wasn't his alpha, so the bonding wasn't too hard on them. Respectfully, she kissed him, and whispered "Master."

He grinned at her, caressing her cheeks, and replied "Narcy, love, you are mine now." She smiled brilliantly, her beauty being impossibly enhanced by the simple gesture.

"Now," he whispered, caressing her cheek, "let's take care of two little problems, shall we?"

Bellatrix, who had managed to reach her climax a few minutes ago, slipped onto the couch next to him. She gently stroked her sister's breasts, pressing kisses to her nipples. Pulling away, she kissed Harry hard, and nipped at his lip as she withdrew. "Two problems, Master?"

A malevolent glint in his eyes, Harry smirked, saying "Of course. Dear Draco here, and, of course, Wormtail."

The malice glinting in their eyes promised true pain and suffering.

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Well, there you have it. Hope you liked the chapter, so read & review!

Draco and Wormtail torture, Tonks joining the harem, negotiations, and a Dark Revel coming up next chapter. I wanted to fit it in here, but I thought 'Hey, why not make them wait?'

Peace out.

-Apocalypso