|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: parakletos Story: The Sins of the Fathers Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 5 Words: 104,346
A/N: Thanks once again to Sherry for her help on this chapter and to Michelle for providing Bellatrix with her pre-conquest dialogue. ~*~ Slipping into Hogwarts was ridiculously easy. Just why people were so in awe of Albus Dumbledore when he allowed multiple access points into the school was one of the many mysteries that remained unanswered for her. Still, with the knowledge that she had gathered from the coterie that hung on the Headmaster’s every word, she had learned of several ways into the school, including those considered to be no longer accessible. It pleased her no end that her chosen route involved the very spot where her idiot of a cousin had kept the Bumblebee’s favourite mongrel company during their school years. Undone by your own mawkish kindness, Dumbledore, and they called Voldemort mad. She’d often wondered what would have happened if she had followed her husband and her family deep into the Dark Lord’s inner circle rather than rejecting it. Madness, she supposed, given the over indulgence in Dark magic so characteristic of his followers. Even her sister Cissy had found it difficult to curb her darkest urges once they had been given free reign. Her own propensity to give in to extremes had taken her to places she’d never thought possible. Her role in the raising of The Boy Who Lived had given her influence that she’d never dreamed of, all of which was now, regretfully, slipping through her hands. Perhaps she had been greedy or careless, or both, but she did not regret seeking pleasure from the boy. If, as she had increasingly believed, she had now lost control of him, she would take her revenge on him. As a pureblood witch, she could control her cycle and indeed the outcome of any successful fertilisation. Awaiting, dormant for now, in her womb was the child that would be his downfall. Time was currently on her side, but she would need to decide by Christmas whether the pregnancy would be allowed to continue. She was under no illusion that she would have further opportunity to impregnate herself, not unless things changed dramatically. The Weasley girl had been the one factor she had never properly addressed. A mistake, yes, but she had believed that, once controlled by the contract, she would never prove to be anything other than an attractive alternative to self-gratification. A few children might have prolonged the relationship, but soon, after many patient hours of comfort, her Harry would return to her side. No, the girl would have to suffer too, and any encounter which left her alive would need to make sure only the blind and the desperate would give her the time of day. The dilapidated building’s location on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, coupled with the fact that it was also shunned by anyone who those they had any sense, meant that today there was no rush to find a way in. The location of the door changed frequently and always reset after opening. So far, she had discerned no pattern to the changes and so finding the entrance was a matter of trial and error and patience. After five minutes or so of prodding and probing with her wand, she was all set to blast the thing to rubble when finally a door appeared and she slipped in. The passageway under the grounds of the school contained no traps or wards and she made swift progress despite the many roots that tried to trip her up. She found her temper beginning to rise and had to force herself to be calm. She had not made the advances she had by relying on brute magical strength or blasting her way through every difficulty and yet today that had been her instinct. No, she told herself, today you must be as subtle as the proverbial serpent; crafty enough to ensnare Eve and waylay Adam. As she neared her first real obstacle, she calmed herself, forcing her irritation from her mind and composing herself. Ever since Harry had returned from Hogwarts, her control over him and everything else had been slipping. Well today, she announced to no one in particular, things begin to change. Once she reached the door leading into the school, she turned and sent a flurry of charms back up the passage to the Shack to remove all trace of her movements. She had no concerns that anyone would actually check, but it never hurt to take precautions. Before entering the school proper she cast her final set of charms to disguise herself from all but the most powerful and conscientious of mages. She tapped the door with her wand and watched the combination dial appear in the wood. There were three ways through the door; the first, to tap the numbers in the correct sequence, something that was only known to the long-deceased creator of the door; the second was to blow it off its hinges, and the third was the method that she had used ever since Harry had been capable of contributing his most vital of fluids to the liquid. Taking a crystal vial from her robes she began to anoint the dial, chanting as she did so. Once she emerged from the hidden passageway, she strode purposefully towards the Slytherin dungeons. The distance was short, and her husband, who had shown her the passageway in their time at Hogwarts, said that the area within which the passage opened had originally been part of the common area for Slytherin. But over time, things had changed, and as the other houses had become more accepting of Muggles, they had taken the decision to draw the common room back and away from the entrance. She had timed her arrival for the middle of the first lesson of the day and was pleased that her arrival, albeit one hidden from prying eyes, would not be revealed to over-inquisitive students. Rather than using the common entrance, she took out a small silver knife from inside her robes and used it to cut the palm of her hand. She cupped the hand to allow the blood to gather before casting a healing spell on the cut. She then placed the bloody hand onto a small indent in the wall and began to speak. “Ornirn in name Slytherines, mæsta Hogwartes meotoda..” Nothing happened immediately but then the wall shimmered slightly. Glancing around to make sure she was unobserved, she stepped through it and into one of the more obscure parts of the Castle. ~*~ Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, watching patiently as the devices on his desk tracked their visitor. The charms that he used to track movements in the tunnel owed more to Muggle technology than magic, and that was perhaps why everyone missed them. Still, today was all about opportunities, and Bellatrix was more likely to be careless if she thought she was unobserved. The added bonus of the day would be a calmer Severus if previous visits were anything to go by. Quite how she endured his touch Dumbledore did not know. By no stretch of the imagination was his Potions Master an attractive man and Miss Black was still a beauty, at least on the outside. Still, the workings of her warped mind were not a concern of his and he was sure the Gryffindor points tally would enjoy a resurgence thanks to the pleasure enjoyed today by their chief detractor. ~*~ Severus Snape had been waiting for Bellatrix to contact him for a number of weeks. Since Potter’s ignominious departure from the castle, he had waited to receive fresh instructions from her. The fact that she would spend time in his bed added to the desire to see her. A soft hiss as the tapestry behind his desk opened caused the normally unflappable man to drop his quill. His gown stirred at the thought that she was finally waiting for him. He did not bother checking his appearance as he was under no illusion to his lack of beauty. In some ways he knew that the physical side of the arrangement was purely transactional, but he also knew that she had a fascination about the way that Mother Nature had blessed him in respect of his manhood. Unlike the Mudblood Evans who had hexed him when he suggested that she might like to sample his wares, the former Mrs Lestrange had been all too willing to avail herself of the opportunity. She was sitting patiently in one of the armchairs when he arrived. As befitting their relationship, there was no embrace let alone a kiss, rather the formal kissing of her hand. “My Lady, do you have news for me?” “News, Severus, and instructions, and,” here she paused, “perhaps time for something else.” It was all that he could do to keep the smile off his face. ~*~ Bellatrix struggled to keep herself under control as Snape mentally undressed her. In the past, she had seen and participated in many events and trials that would have sickened the average witch or wizard. Even when her parents and husband had used her to forge alliances, she had been able to convince herself that the whole thing had been worth it, given what had been achieved. That she had lost her virginity to a man old enough to be her grandfather had meant little to her as her parents had achieved what they wanted from the deal. The fact that the man had returned to, as it were, take a second bite from the cherry, and her father had afforded her the pleasure of castrating him before her mother had killed the man, made the whole episode justifiable. She blamed Potter for the change and the fact that, since the boy’s twelfth birthday, she had obtained carnal pleasure from their encounters. Still, Snape wouldn’t actually see her naked, never mind actually touch her. They would talk first and she would enjoy his increasing impatience as he tried to shortcut the discussion and get on to the more physical aspects of the meeting. One of the things she enjoyed most was the fact that the man, who had survived this long by paying attention to small details, had missed the charms and runes she had placed in the room and all she had to do was wait until they took effect and then she could start. ~*~ Snape was starting to tire of the woman’s endless rambling. Her instructions were quite clear, why did you have to go over them in such minute detail? “So, Severus, are you able to do what I’d asked?” “Of course, my lady, your instructions are crystal clear.” “And now, Severus, time, I think, for other matters.” She smiled at him and began to remove her robe. Snape watched transfixed as she revealed more and more of her nakedness to him. It never ceased to amaze him that a woman of her age could still possess such a body. She crossed the room and kissed him softly, her hands already fumbling inside his robes towards what he knew was her ultimate goal. ~*~ She stood at the door as Snape entered the trance and began to respond to the stimulus it was sending to him. She would not stay and watch; she had the first time to ensure that it was working and she swore never do it again. As she moved towards the door she felt her own frustrations rising in her body. It been several weeks since she had last availed herself of Harry’s charms. It wasn’t through the lack of desire, that was a strong as ever, but his eye was wandering, and because of his disobedience, she couldn’t bring herself to give him the pleasure he had enjoyed since the onset of puberty. Still, she had another call to make and with that young man, whatever failings he had, when it came to carrying out her instructions, the look of despair on his face as she straddled him gave her a type of pleasure that Harry never could. ~*~ Life for Ginny Weasley was improving. Today was a case in point as she walked through the castle unmolested. The message that, although she was available, she wasn’t interested, was slowly filtering through the male populace of Hogwarts until only the most arrogant and stupid of the boys still tried their luck. Even Neville Longbottom was no longer on her radar as Hannah Abbott appeared to meet all his needs when it came to both the mind and the body. After weeks of feeling like she was bailing out a rapidly sinking ship, she now felt the worst was over. However, there still remained the problem of Harry Potter. Their encounter in Hogsmeade had settled a lot of things, but it also brought a raft of unanswered questions. She had begun to understand the contract had continued to exercise a degree of control and effect over both of their lives and those around them. He’d also explained why her family had been on the receiving end of the worst month they could remember. But whilst things had returned to normal for the Weasleys, thoughts of Harry Potter would not go away. He not only appeared in her dreams, but she also found herself thinking about him during the day. She needed closure, and she would only get that when she could sit down and discuss it with him. Unfortunately, despite their more cordial meeting, she doubted that she was ever going to get that opportunity. She looked up from her musings in time to see Dean Thomas disappear around the corner. What was she going to do about that boy? He kept his distance, but his behaviour was getting on her nerves. ~*~ “Do I really have to go?” Harry stared at Black. “Yes, you do.” “And why is that? I don’t remember expressing an interest in going to such a stupid function. I can have just as much fun staring at the ceiling of my bedroom.” “You are going because I said you would.” Harry went to interrupt, but Black stopped him. “And we wouldn’t want the rest of the Ministry to think that Sirius Black can’t keep his word, do we?” “You are a bastard, Black, a complete and utter bastard.” “That’s as may be, but if you don’t hurry, you will be late.” “I’m not going.” “There will be plenty of young and attractive and unattached witches there, why would you not want to go?” Harry wanted to tell Black that he was still struggling to sort out just what was going on with Ginny post-contract and he had no desire to muddy the waters with any other women. But Black’s part in the deception that had sent him to Hogwarts meant that he no longer shared anything other than the most basic of information with the man. “Sorry, not interested. And anyway, they don’t want me, they want The Boy Who Lived.” “I promise you, Harry, that sort of woman will not get within fifty feet of you. Look, Harry, I need you to do this. After the incident at Hogwarts, you need to be seen out and about. There are some very nasty rumours going around at the moment.” “And?” “Harry, things are very delicately poised at the moment, with people beginning to question why we are we still trying to fight the war. Your defeat at Hogwarts has made many people question which side they should be on. You out there pressing the flesh in all your glory would do wonders to reassure people and having a pretty girl on your arm wouldn’t hurt, either.” “What about the girl that I was supposed to marry?” “Times change, Harry, people move on and you need to do so as well.” “You are a complete bastard, Black.” “So you said. Oh, and you’ll need this.” He tossed a small vial at Harry which he caught with ease. “What’s this?” “Contraceptive potion.” “Black, I’m—” “So you say, Harry, but just in case, we don’t want any little Potters running around yet, do we?” Harry didn’t respond; anxious to be away from Black as quickly as possible, he stuffed the vial in his pocket and turned on his heels and left. ~*~ Harry stood in the corner, a glass of Elven wine in his hand trying to avoid making eye contact with the other guests who had already tried their annoying best to get his attention. Although he had said it many times before, this was the last favour that he was doing for Black. He had already decided to move out of Twelve Grimmauld Place, the only question was when. He was minded to move into a Muggle street so as to distance himself as far as he could from interference in his life. As much as he wanted the isolation, there were practical problems associated with such a move. Obtaining a Floo connection was the most problematic and he would almost certainly need Black’s help in setting it up in good time, something that he was most anxious to avoid. The only practical solution would be to find a remote Muggle dwelling and have it converted. That would take time and therefore he would have to grin and bear matters at Grimmauld Place, but that was something that he was used to and he could do it if he needed to. He was good at that, he reflected, a lifetime of imposed martyrdom had put him in good stead. “Still with us?” A voice behind him asked. Harry turned to see a young woman with long, curly black hair smiling at him. Her distinctive hair, coupled with her rather prominent chin, reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t quite sure whom. “Do I know you?” “Almost certainly not. Unfortunately, I am quite sure that you had the misfortune to have met my sister, Romilda.” When Harry looked puzzled, she continued. “Slightly taller than me; if such a thing were possible, too much self-belief for one of her intellect, and problems keeping both her legs and her mouth closed.” Despite his determination not to enjoy this evening Harry found himself smiling. “That’s better,” the woman said. “And you are?” “Romilly, Romilly Vane. Older and more,” here she paused for dramatic effect, a mannerism which Harry found surprisingly endearing, “mysterious sister of Romilda.” Harry took the extended hand and kissed the back of it in the manner prescribed for an unknown and unmarried female. She rewarded his efforts with an amused smile. “Someone has taken the trouble to teach you some manners; no wonder they didn’t like you at Hogwarts.” “And there was me thinking it was something to do with my removing the head of everyone’s favourite Dark Lord.” “Perhaps that too,” she conceded, her smile broadening as the byplay continued. Once again Harry found himself smiling. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so bad after all. It was gone midnight when the two of them left the ball on much friendlier terms than when they had first met. The decorum of the greeting had faded under the effects of several glasses of champagne, but also by the kindred spirit that Harry had found in Romilly. She possessed the sort of dry sense of humour that was rare amongst young women of pureblood society, coupled with an innate ability to make him smile. Smiles turned into chuckles and chuckles into laughter. As the evening had progressed, the distance between them slowly closed so that when they Apparated to her house it had been in each other’s arms. “Living on your own, Miss Vane? How scandalous!” “I do have more in common with my sister than just my appearance. The difference is that, whilst I like to pick and choose the gentleman I would like to get to know better, she measures her relationships in inches.” Harry waited until they were inside before pulling her close to him. For a few awkward moments they stared at each other, almost afraid to take the final step that they both wanted so desperately. As soon as their lips touched he pulled her to him, his whole body yearning for release. He hadn’t realised how frustrated he’d become and was painfully aware of how obvious his need was. He needn’t have worried. Her hand brushed against the front of his robes and her kiss turned into a smile. “I love a man who is ready for action.” Her hand returned and her touch was more deliberate this time. “Unless you want to go through that stupid routine where we both sit and drink coffee that neither of us want, I suggest that we retire to my bedroom.” “I’m a tea man, myself.” “Oh, good. I’ll make sure I put a pot on in the morning.” And with that she took him by the hand and began to lead him up the stairs. Her steps were slow, but there was none of the exaggerated swaying of her hips that he associated with women trying to get his attention. Women who tried that were onto a hiding for nothing, as artifice was the biggest turn off he knew. Whereas Romilda had ‘enhanced’ her beauty to the point it stuck to her pillow at night, Romilly had been subtle in the makeup she had applied. It was the same with her conversation, she had entertained and teased him, flirted with him too, but he’d always felt that she knew what his limits were. If she had been excited about him being The Boy Who Lived, she’d kept it well hidden. Of course there was always the possibility that, in the morning, the press would have the full story, including details of his virility, but that couldn’t be helped, and he would just have to hope that his performance rated a good review. As they reached the top of the stairs, she let go of his hand and turned to face him. “There’s a bathroom down the landing where you can freshen up if you need to. Do blokes do that sort of thing?” She was teasing him again and he thought about replying but instead he kissed her. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” She turned and pushed the door opposite her open, revealing her bedroom. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but all thoughts about her choice of bedroom furniture disappeared as she started to take off her jewellery. Now that the moment had finally arrived, Harry found that he was nervous. His previous sexual encounters had been very one-sided. The women, often older than him, had taken control, and he had been only too aware that it had all been over more quickly than they’d hoped. The smart ones had used magic to deal with that, but all that meant was that, although this wasn’t physically his first time, he was at a loss as to how to play this. Unsure of what to do, he sat on her bed and watched as she placed her bracelet on her dressing table, hoping that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. Her jewellery safely out of the way, she turned back to him and began to undo the front of her dress, his gaze flitting from her hands to her face, all while resisting the temptation to rub the front of his trousers. As she undid the last button, she left her robes fall to the floor, revealing a surprisingly demure set of undergarments. She walked slowly towards him, her eyes never breaking contact with his. He stood as she reached the bed and took her hand. “Romilly…” “Shush… no need to talk.” All thoughts as to what he was going to say disappeared as they sank down upon the bed and lost themselves in each other. In the morning, Harry was the first one downstairs, and true to her word, there was tea in the cupboard and so he set about making a pot. The tea was nicely brewed by the time she came downstairs, her smile still as wide as the night before. “Good morning, tea-boy. How are you today?” “I had a rather agreeable evening and a very satisfying night, so I’m feeling pretty good.” “Only pretty good? We can’t have that, can we? I feel that I’m failing in my duty as your girlfriend if you’re going to be off doing Boy Who Lived stuff around all those adoring females and still unfulfilled in the bedroom department.” He was about to respond that last night was great, and that he was used to fending off that kind of attention, when he noticed her stroking her belly, a faraway look in her eyes. He froze, Black’s lecture about ‘little Potters’ coming back to him. “Anything the matter, Harry?” “No, everything’s fine. It’s just that I have a meeting with Black and the Minister for which I’m already late.” “The hectic life of The Chosen One, eh?” Was it his imagination or had the teasing tone that was present in such phrases last night now gone? He felt in his pocket and was reassured that Black’s gift was still there. “Before I go rushing off, how about I make you breakfast?” ”I thought that you were in a rushf?” ”I do, but that doesn't mean that I can't be a gentleman.” He forced himself to smile, hoping that he was doing a good job. “Sounds good to me,” she grinned and leaned in to give him a kiss. She caught him unaware and, as the kiss continued, he had to fight not to respond. Whatever else she was, she knew how to kiss. ~*~ Harry stayed longer than he'd wanted to and was helping himself to the leftovers in the pantry in an attempt to sate his hunger when Black entered the kitchen. “How was your evening?” he asked as he seated himself at the table that dominated the room. “Eventful,” Harry replied as noncommittally as he could. He didn't look up, choosing to focus on scrapping the last bit of piccalilli that was clinging to the bottom of the jar. “So I gathered; a little less frustrated, though?” There was none of the teasing that Harry expected there to be accompanying such a question, an omission that surprised him. “How did you know?” Black had spies everywhere, so it was just a question of whom and not how. There were no Tracking Charms on him, he knew that. Well-founded paranoia meant that he regularly checked for such things when entering and leaving an area. “I’ve always known.” Memories of his experiences as a teenager that he'd like to have kept secret flashed through his mind and it was all he could do to stop his face from flushing. “You mean…” he ventured, not quite sure how to respond. “Yes, Harry, all of them. It helped that you were underage and that gave us plenty of leverage. Most just fancied you, but a few had designs on more.” The thought crossed his mind that Black and the rest of his guardians had known that he'd been sexually abused as a child and hadn't done anything. He tried to get angry, but then realised that they'd all been caught and he had, after the initial shock, by and large enjoyed the experiences. What a messed-up world we live in, he thought, if I'd been a girl, the abusers would have probably been Kissed. “And what about last night?” “Miss Vane? Romilly is all right, best of a bad bunch, really. Her mother is a nightmare, worse than Romilda. All good in bed though, or so I'm told." “And the father?” he asked hurriedly, wondering just what he'd got himself into. What had, last night at least, seemed like the best decision he'd ever made concerning the opposite sex, was now turning into a disaster that promised to dwarf even some of the bigger cock-ups that had typified his life. “Dead, killed by Malfoy, I believe. Nothing to do with Voldemort, just a business deal gone wrong. Don’t judge the mother too harshly, Harry. She’s a bit old-fashioned when it comes to her girls. Thinks their future isn’t secure unless they’ve got a worthy husband.” An idea was beginning to form in his mind. Black had been insistent that he go to the Ball; he knew the family and that Harry had been with the girl last night. It stunk of a set up and yet more manipulation. It was time to find out just what the See You Next Tuesday was up to. “What do I do when she asks to meet again?” Black smiled. “She won’t. You did slip her some of the potion, didn’t you?” “Yes, I put it in her tea. Why, what was in it? Thought it was just a post-coital contraceptive thingy.” “It is, and a very strong one too, so a small dose will do the trick, even afterwards.” “And…” “It will affect her memory as well. Make things seem a little fuzzy. She’ll remember last night but will never quite be able to put a face to the man she bedded. And in time, the details she does remember will become even more unclear until she isn’t really sure that it happened. Plus we had Tonks, Polyjuiced as our would-be Mrs Potter leave before hand, complaining that you had turned her down." He looked at Harry, a smug grin plastered all over his face. Harry normally wanted to punch him when that happened, but this time he couldn't help but admire the man's thoroughness. Thorough or not, Black, Gryffindor according to the Sorting Hat, was proof that a leopard couldn't change its spots. “I don’t feel comfortable about this, Sirius, strikes me as wrong.” “Trust me, it’s better than having a rushed wedding so that baby Potter isn’t born out of wedlock.” “Trusting you hasn’t exactly paid dividends for me up to now, Black, why should I start now?” “Because, my dear boy, we are swimming with the sharks and you either have to get to the top of the food chain or get out of the sea.” “Dry land it is, then.” And with that, he picked up his sandwich and locked himself in his room, ignoring his aunt when she tried to engage him in conversation. The rest of the week was uneventful as he tried to catch up on his sleep and pondered over the myriad of choices available to him as a newly-qualified Auror. He didn't have to specialise, but doing so would keep him away from the Flatfoots that resented his 'unearned place on the squad'. Or perhaps being an Auror was the wrong choice after all? Quidditch would be fun, but too much in the public eye. Perhaps he should apply to Gringotts to become a curse-breaker. All they cared about was whether you could do the job and he was sure that he could convince them that was the case. To his frustration, his sleep was not as restful as he'd hoped, disturbed by dreams too vivid to be ignored. There were no wild erotic rides, only guilt. His every action since his arrival at Hogwarts was replayed in its most negative light. Worst of all, as the scenes of his recent liaison played out, he sensed, rather than saw, a forlorn figure standing in the kitchen, holding a child that wasn’t hers, asking him why he couldn’t wait for her.
|